the moon holds what light she can

iwaizumi remembers exactly how it started.

he'd been on his last set of deadlifts when you'd walked into the gym, looking a little unsure. but he figured he'd wait until you asked for help, if you needed it. his eyes track you as you make your way over to the squat rack where mattsun thad been spotting oikawa.

iwaizumi watches you wait until oikawa had finished his rep before you begin talking to mattsun — asking for help? or a spot? either way, mattsun only seems glad to be of service, a smile spreading over his face. to someone who doesn't know him, mattsun's expression might appear sleazy. but iwaizuni knows that that's just what the guy's face looks like. not his fault, really.

and so, seeing you taken care of, he returns to his own routine. and that would've been it if you hadn't gotten to chatting with mattsun and oikawa. he'd been beckoned over by a yell of oi! iwachan! which had echoed across the (thankfully) empty gym.

iwaizumi strode across the floor to where you were stood with the two doofuses, his towel around his neck. incredibly aware of the fact that he was drenched in sweat and probably reeking.

not the greatest first impression.

oikawa spoke first, annoying voice liIted like it always got when he was playing up his gregarious personality. 'iwachan! say hi to our new gym buddy!'

you gave him a tiny smile, introducing yourself as having just moved to the city. you looked nervous, he noted, even as you stick your hand out to him.

he'd grasped it, extremely conscious of the fact that it was probably sweaty and oh no, he should've wiped it off before coming over, and he really should be introducing himself too, but your eyes were expectant & inquisitive and your hand fit in his really well, and oh no, he'd been shaking it for too long-

thankfully - and he can't believe he was having this thought - oikawa saved the day.

'this is iwachan! don't mind him, he has the social skills of a barely domesticated hedgehog.'

ah, that was more like the oikawa he knew.

slapping the back of his head was second nature to iwaizumi at this point, but then you'd let a laugh escape you before clamping your hands over your mouth. and he froze again, hand suspended halfway on it's path to oikawa's head. you looked at him, eyes wide and bright, afraid of offending him, and suddenly iwaizumi knew that all crimes would be forgiven if you'd keep looking at him like that. he lowered his hand, plastering a (hopefully) friendly smile on his face.

(oikawa & mattsun later tell him that it had, in fact, been a dopey grin.)

apparently, the two doofuses had taken a liking to you, and had invited you to their regular post-gym lunch.

great, more chances to embarass himself.

lunch had turned into an invitation to makki's 'i got a job!' party, which turned into an offer to help with moving, which turned into you and iwaizami splayed out on opposite ends of your new couch, beer cans in hand (and a few on the floor), panting but proud of the boxes stacked in your living room. turns out the apartment you'd rented was a block away from iwaizumi's place, so he'd volunteered to stick around and help you unpack after everyone else had left.

the clock precariously balanced on an overturned box showed that it was nearing ten. you huffed a tired little sigh, turning to look at him.

'hey, it's getting pretty late. you sure you're good to stay?' your lips were slightly party, concern etched across your features. something in iwaizami's stomach flipped when he realized that the concern was for him.

'yeah, i'm good. got my bike parked downstairs, and it's barely a minute's drive from here,' he reassures you. he leaves out the fact that he would have driven for as long as it takes to get to you.

honestly, the fuck was wrong with him?

you sigh again, slapping your hands on your thighs as you make to get up, but immediately slump back into the cushions. 'if you say so, iwachan.' you turn to look at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and teasing because you know he hates that name. at least, you think he hates it. he's just not worked up the courage to tell you that he'll take whatever you call him, as long as you don't stop calling him.

yeah, he's pretty sure no amount of liquid courage would ever get him there.

but he's just tipsy enough to let himself lean into the coy lilt of your voice, mind just the right amount of fuzzy to allow himself to scooch closer to you, your thighs touching. he can feel the warmth of your bare thigh through his jeans, a heat washing through him. touching you was far more intoxicating than anything he'd ever experienced.

his voice is gruff when he says, 'come on, if you're tryna tease me, you can do better than that.' and he can tell you're not expecting that. your brows shoot up and you fumble slightly on your next words, which come out as barely a whisper.

'yeah? and what lengths am i allowed to go to?'

your hand, which had been lightly resting in your lap, lands gently on his knee. he has to swallow when it starts to creep up his thigh, your nails applying just the right amount of pressure to make his throat dry up.

'do what you want, darling,' — and he wills his voice to not crack — 'you set the pace. i'm yours. do whatever you want.'

apparently, that had been all the assurance you needed, because you immediately leaned in, open mouth pressing against his. and he lets himself go, accepts your kiss as your tongue licks into his mouth. you taste of cheap beer and vanilla chapstick — the same goddamn chopstick that had haunted his dreams when he'd seen the way you puckered your lips after applying it — as the kiss grows more fervent, one of your hands winding up his neck to rake through his hair, the other bunching his shirt to tug him closer.

his own hands must have been still all this while, because you break the kiss to mumble against his lips, 'touch me, hajime. need you, please, touch me.'

hearing his name spill from your lips snapped something inside iwaizumi. he immediately grabbed your waist and guided you onto his lap, pulling you closer by the small of your back. his hands sweep all over your body, exploring it. he tentatively reaches a hand under your shirt, goosebumps erupting all over your warm skin.

idly, he thinks that the beer must have been colder than he'd expected.

he reaches over to the small of your back again, this time with full access to your skin, and pulls you in even further, right over his already hard cock, almost groaning in response. you must've felt it too, because you moan into the kiss, and the hand nestled in his hair tugs — and he's a goner.

he begins to move your hips against his, pressing your core right over his cock. his hand comes up to tug at your nipples, and he's rewarded with a moan, your head thrown back, pretty neck exposed for the taking. he sinks his teeth into it, and you press your hips down further, leaving no space between your bodies.

as he laves over the bite mark with his tongue, he can't help but think of what a vision you were above him — back arched, chest pressed to his, eyes shut in bliss. he wonders about how wet you must be — were you soaked? would you be able to take two of his fingers? what about his cock? could he slide it in? or would you struggle to fit it all, squirming as you can't help but try to escape even as you sink down on him further?

the thought has him groaning into your neck as you increase the pace of your grinding against him. you pull at his roots again, a silent plea for more, and hajime's all too happy to give it to you.

his thumb finds the crest of your sex, and he nudges it through your shorts, and oh, you keen at that, and he presses down further.

'ha-ah, haji, so close, don't stop, please—'

he couldn't stop even if he tried, his hips thrusting up into yours as he keeps drawing little nothings over your clit, trying his best to push you over the edge.

his efforts are rewarded when your thighs clamp down around his, head thrown back as broken, wanton moans escape your throat. your pretty little throat, which he'd marked up for everyone to see, for everyone to know you were all his, and his alone.

the thought sends him over the edge too, hips still canting up into yours as he rides out his high. the comedown is blissful, your forehead pressed against his, as you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms.

slowly, reality sets in.

iwaizumi had just made out — and beyond — with you. you, who had never even flirted in his general direction before today. you, with your gorgeous smile and bright eyes, who could have anyone you wanted and chose him tonight because he was the only one around. it could've been oikawa or mattsun or makki or that cashier who'd rung up your beer. bile rises in his throat at the thought of someone else being in his place. he's suddenly stone cold sober.

he's suddenly too hot and the stickiness in his pants is uncomfortable and he needs to be anywhere but here.

so when you pull back from where you'd been resting on his chest, and sigh out, 'that was — something. guess i should've taken the onus to tease you earlier, huh?' — he doesn't want to stick around for you to dismiss him as just a quickie. he doesn't think his heart could take it.

so he pushes you off, gently as he can, and doesn't — can't — meet your eyes when he mumbles out some excuse about having to water his plants, and barely remembers to grab his keys before leaving.

he doesn't think about the fact that you know he doesn't have plants. that he only owns one half of a pair of succulents, the other sat upon the coffee table you guys had put together today. doesn't see your face crumpling as you blink back tears, wondering what happened all of a sudden.

doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking over his own.

the next time he sees you, the wall's been put up. he refuses to get attached to you, refuses to let himself think about your vanilla chapstick, or the way the sunlight reflects in your eyes, or the way your hands grip your drink when you're cold, or about how he could hold your hands in his own to warm them up—

nope, he refuses to think about that.

you still end up sleeping together, drunken encounters leading to seeking each other out, even while sober. and he sometimes lets himself think about what he could cook for you after a long day, or what it would feel like to have you drift off in his arms while watching a movie. he sometimes plays with the idea of taking you on a late-night like ride that's not the measly two blocks from your house to his.

but he knows it's all a pipe dream. something to tide him over while he tries to get over you.