#tetsu~

you told yourself you wouldn't end up here.

your friends all knew you would.

'careful,' they'd teased. 'you're gonna end up in his bed.'

in your defense, you're not in his bed.

you're in his car.

"fuck-" he grunts, pressing a hand against your navel and rolling his hips. "couldn't even wait to go home, could you-"

you hold your hands above your head, not wanting to hurt yourself on the car door. "this was your fucking idea."

"and you listened?" he laughs. "that's a first."

you groan, annoyed. "your voice is getting on my nerves."

"please," he snorts. "you seemed okay earlier with my mouth pressed against your ear."

he's not wrong.

the grad student happy hours have always been a bit of a grey area for you. lab meetings and department receptions? the line is clear.

seeing him in the hallway or in the grad library? it's never more than a roll of your eyes and a roll of his, shoulders roughly brushed and irritated greetings.

happy hours are dangerous.

the bar light is always low, which you're convinced is the only reason he looks good. alcohol is flowing, which you're convinced, again, is the only reason he smells so damn good. and words come easier.

which is how you always manage to end up in some corner, blocked from view by the towering frame of kuroo tetsurou, as you argue about things that never really matter.

last month, it was about which companies you're both applying to.

the month before that, it was about who has more publications and invited talks.

today — tonight, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his fingers cold with drink condensation when he cuts your thought off with a gentle nudge against your forearm — you're arguing about nothing.

literally nothing.

except for the fact that you'd both been accepted to and accepted the offer from the same company. the same company, in the same department.

it's already done. contracts have already been signed.

so the argument is about nothing.

but, still, when you start to get heated and declare that you just need to stay away from each other, he's quick to cut you short. cold, slightly wet fingers and his personal space mixed with yours. his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, like he always manages to do, even though the music in the bar is never really that loud.

he cuts you short, cuts that idea off — staying away from each other — before you can fully form it.

almost like he doesn't like it.

'how about — instead of being unreasonable — we learn to co-exist?'

'yeah?' you'd bitten. 'and how do you suppose we do that?'

his answer had involved dragging you to his car. you think. you don't remember.

everything after the surge of his lips against yours, in the shadows of that dimly lit bar, had been foggy.

and now you're here, right where your friends always said you'd end up.

the drag of his cock along your walls is marked by the wet plap of his thrust. he laughs when it starts to happen every time, but you can hear how breathy it is. how shaky he sounds when he mocks you.

"so fucking wet-ngh-" his fingers grip your waist tight and start to drag you down on him. "you like me that much?"

you want to deny that. but even years of fighting has left you unable to face this moment with your head screwed on straight.

so you just bite down on your lip and let your back arch when he starts to throb inside of you. "you gonna come already, kuroo?" it's embarrassing how weak your voice is. "can't last long, can you?"

you think you hear him whisper something that sounds suspiciously like "not with you", but it's cut short by the ringing in your ears and the creak of the car as he picks up his pace. the tip of his cock smacks against your g-spot, twitching every time you whine.

"where d'you wan' it?" he grunts. the metal of his belt smacks against the seat as his hips start to stutter. "c'n i get this pretty little dress dirty?"

you whimper, not sure why his question catches you off guard. "tetsu," you whisper, eyes falling shut as you imagine him calling you pretty like that.

his breath stalls on the inhale. "fuck," he breathes.

the edge is gone from his voice. almost like it was never really there.

"what'do you need?"

your chest heaves with each gulp of air your struggle for. "tetsu-"

"tell me," he starts, grip softening marginally. "c'mon, yn. tell me."

"need you to come-" you gasp. and then your breath falls out, pathetic. "-inside."

your body warms. warm and full and happy.

your orgasm is just as warm.

the car stops creaking, and the windows start to de-fog. you pant underneath him, and he does the same, eyes watching you hazily.

"come home with me."