oikawa is just short of busting the door down when he arrives, utterly unfazed by the cold, shedding his ill-fitting shoes and inside-out shirt as he walks so that by the time he’s barreling into iwaziumi’s room, he’s just in his sweats and when he enters the room, he nearly doubles over. most notable is iwaizumi’s scent-- peach, black currant, lilac, and an edge of vanilla that blends seamlessly into michi’s sea salt vanilla-- but michi’s is there, too, wrapped up around it, and it all coils around him and stokes in him a desire that he almost can’t handle.
god, he wants them. so much he feels like his skin might split at the seams in a failure to contain what boils beneath it. in this moment, oikawa sheds himself, steps out of the skin that preens and fusses, and allows himself to follow his alpha instincts.
“hajime,” he all but growls, practically diving beneath the covers to get close to both of them, immediately finding the iwaizumi’s neck to scent him because it is literally the only thing on his mind, he can’t function around it even as he cups michi’s neck and presses a thumb to her pulse to keep her close. normally, iwaizumi would knee him for using his given name, but now, it elicits a sound that’s somewhere between a grunt and a whine into michiko’s mouth, and oikawa is so, so, so helplessly turned on by that single noise that he swears he’s gonna rip his sweats from the force of achieving erection.
“took you long enough,” he pants, still licking at michi’s lips, like the thought of doing something other than kissing her is a physical impossibility.
“you had michi here and she took good care of you,” oikawa shoots back coolly, even as he threatens to boil beneath his skin. he wants to knot iwaizumi so bad the base of his dick hurts and he fucking swears he feels it swelling in preparation. “isn’t that right?”
iwaizumi’s eyes are glassy when they meet oikawa’s, dazed, like he’s seeing him through a fogged mirror. “yeah,” he replies, voice hazy, “she did. love kissing michi.”
“yeah?” oikawa turns to thumb at michiko’s lower lip. “she likes kissing you, too, right?” except then he can’t think about anything else, and leans in to kiss michiko himself, like she is the only drink he has had after days of wandering through the desert. he’s so close to the edge of his control.
iwaizumi groans. it’s equal parts desire and discomfort, and oikawa can’t fight the instinct to curl up around him, pull him and michi close and kiss them both simultaneously in a messy, wet kiss with too much tongue but he needs it, needs them both, right now.
