Chapter 1 - Numbers

Oikawa's Song:

You better make me better

- "Numbers", Daughter

...

Iwaizumi's Song:

I can hear it in your voice

I can see it in your veins

- "Tired Tiger", Moving Mountains


Iwaizumi Hajime stared in abstract wonder at the head of wavy brown hair bobbing up and down between his legs and marvelled at how his life had turned out this way, that the crown prince of Aoba Johsai would be doing such a thing to him. Iwaizumi Hajime, nought but a mere knight graciously utilised in the protection of their realm, commoner by birth.

Perhaps, however, it was not such a strange thing if he considered who the crown prince of Aoba Johsai was. Oikawa Tooru, the man he'd known since birth, his best friend for as long as he'd had conscious thought, his confidant, his lover for almost three years.

Iwaizumi moaned deeply as Oikawa sucked his hard length deep into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. Iwaizumi's gripped a fistful of that wavy brown hair so he could control Oikawa's movements. Oikawa liked to tease and Iwaizumi had never had the patience – nor the fortitude – for it. Besides, he'd always preferred to be in control, and Oikawa had always been an eager recipient of it.

Which was why it was so unusual for Oikawa to be doing this for him. Over the years they'd more or less settled into a pattern of regular behaviour. When Oikawa needed him, Iwaizumi would come to him and satisfy that need. It was never the other way around – Iwaizumi never allowed it to be. Because despite who Oikawa was as a man he was also still a crown prince, so while it was acceptable for Oikawa to request this from Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi would never consider – had never considered – the thought of doing the same.

He knew Oikawa wished their relationship were more reciprocal, knew Oikawa wanted Iwaizumi to depend on him as much as he depended on Iwaizumi – both sexually and emotionally – but he also knew Iwaizumi would not budge on this. Knew the only way he'd have him was if it was in this way; Iwaizumi merely an object at Oikawa's disposal.

It didn't matter how they felt about each other, that Oikawa loved Iwaizumi as fiercely as Iwaizumi loved him. It never had mattered. This was how it had always been, ever since the start of it.

The start, huh? Iwaizumi thought with a cynical half-smile and rested his head back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as Oikawa continued to work him expertly.

It had all started because of Oikawa's need and because of Iwaizumi's inability to deny him anything he needed. A small smile – a more genuine one this time – appeared on Iwaizumi's lips as he remembered that night that felt so long ago now.

They'd been at war with Karasuno at the time, an old country that had become weak over time. However, it had suddenly grown stronger with the ascension of a new king skilled in the art of warfare and his knight who was almost unmatched on the battlefield, despite his young age and small stature. Aoba Johsai and Karasuno had engaged in a few border skirmishes over the years preceding the war – skirmishing Iwaizumi had helped put down himself – but it had escalated into a fully-fledged war the year he and Oikawa turned eighteen.

Oikawa had been sent to the battlefront to prove himself and Iwaizumi had been sent with him to keep him alive. There was an alternate heir to the throne – Oikawa's older sister had a son – but the life of a crown prince, heir apparent, would always be protected at all costs regardless.

Oikawa, Iwaizumi and the rest of Oikawa's personal guard had been thrown into battle almost immediately upon their arrival, and what a battle it had been. Karasuno had been ruthless, crafty and never gave up, even in the face of lesser numbers and greater expertise. They had managed to force Aoba Johsai to retreat. The only reason they hadn't been obliterated completely was due to Oikawa and his unparalleled skill as a tactician and strategist.

Oikawa had emerged that battle a hero, but with a broken spirit. Iwaizumi, as always, had been tasked with mending it. It wasn't a task anyone had specifically asked of him, but one he'd always volunteered himself for. He couldn't imagine it any other way. But that day, the process mending Oikawa had gone in an unexpected direction.


Three years ago…

Iwaizumi let the last of his heavy, burdensome armour drop to the ground, breathing a sigh of relief to be released from its weight and constriction. He felt like he could breathe properly for the first time that day. He was well used to the feeling – this had not been his first battle – but it had been one of the bloodiest. And Oikawa's first.

Shit, there's no way he's going to be okay, Iwaizumi mused as he walked over to his waiting basin of water. He dunked his head straight into the lukewarm liquid, wishing it was colder, in an attempt to rid himself of some of the blood that seemed to have seeped into his every crevice.

So much blood today. Too much. As bloodied water ran down his face in thick rivulets, Iwaizumi held his hand up and stared at it, wondering absentmindedly how many people's blood coated it today. He dunked his hands in the basin too, even though it was already stained red with the blood from his hair – he'd lost his helmet at some point during the day, a bad habit of his. Oikawa would need him soon and the last thing he needed to see was yet more blood.

Iwaizumi had only managed to clean his hands and face by the time Matsukawa strode into his tent. Iwaizumi didn't look up, just stared at the swirling red water in front of him, dreading what was coming next because for once he wasn't sure what to do to help Oikawa. He despised feeling so helpless.

"Oikawa finally back in his tent?" Iwaizumi queried with some frustration. Despite teetering on the edge of mental and physical exhaustion, Oikawa had insisted on going around to speak to the wounded – which wasn't a small feat, considering how many of them there were. Iwaizumi admired Oikawa's dedication and fortitude, but he also resented each moment and each man that kept him from the privacy he so obviously needed to process the events of that day. Or not process. Iwaizumi didn't know what Oikawa he'd come face to face with – the one who wanted to think, or the one who wanted to forget.

"He's asking for you," Matsukawa said in response. Iwaizumi sighed deeply and closed his eyes, attempting to mentally prepare himself for whatever Oikawa he'd find.

"You're dismissed, Matsukawa. Get some rest," he ordered.

Matsukawa didn't leave. "Make sure you get some yourself at some point, Iwaizumi. As much as I know you hate to admit it, you are human like the rest of us."

Iwaizumi's mouth twitched up into something like a smile but probably more like a grimace. "Fuck off, Matsukawa."

Matsukawa saluted lazily. "Gladly, sir," he replied drolly and did just that.

Iwaizumi inhaled deeply, once twice, and then left his tent to walk the short distance to Oikawa's – the big, ostentatious one right in the middle of the camp. It was a miracle Iwaizumi had even managed to get his own tent, so dead-set had Oikawa been on sharing. It hadn't mattered how many times or in how many ways Iwaizumi stressed the point that a knight couldn't share a tent with a crown prince, Oikawa had wanted him close, as always. It was one thing for Iwaizumi to sneak into Oikawa's bedchamber when he was a boy, when they were young and innocent and it was harmless, but it was an entirely different thing now because now they were none of those things and it was far from harmless.

Iwaizumi had refused to sneak into Oikawa's bedchambers since he was sixteen, despite all of Oikawa's incessant begging and cajoling and manipulations, which hadn't let up even to this day. Oikawa was nothing if not persistent.

It had been soon after his father's death that Iwaizumi had slipped into Oikawa's chambers for the last time. Unable to keep the nightmares at bay, he'd snuck into Oikawa's bed because that had always made the nightmares go away, ever since he'd started having them at fifteen – ever since he'd first starting fighting in battles and wars alongside his father, ever since he'd found out what it meant to take another man's life.

It had been a hot summer's night and over the course of it Oikawa had stripped off his shirt and kicked the blankets down to his feet. Iwaizumi had awoken first, as always – a conscious effort on his part as Oikawa was one of those annoying people who enjoyed waking along with the sun and had an overabundance of energy. Over time he'd trained his body to wake before dawn, mostly because he needed to sneak back to his own chambers before too much of the household awoke but also because there had been that one time Oikawa had woken first and used ink to stain crude patterns into Iwaizumi's face that hadn't come out for two days. Sure, he'd given Oikawa such a beat down that it was unlikely he'd attempt that stunt again, but Iwaizumi knew all too well that sometimes Oikawa's sense of mischief overwhelmed his common sense.

He'd awoken that morning while the moon still softly illuminated the large bed and looked at Oikawa's sleeping body beside him. And kept looking. As he'd tracked his eyes over Oikawa's naked flesh it had occurred to him that Oikawa's body had evolved from one of boy to man without Iwaizumi realising. He'd supposed that was what happened when you saw someone almost every day, you didn't notice those incremental changes.

Oikawa had always been long and lean to Iwaizumi's broadness and brawn, but his shoulders had still widened and there'd been more bulk than before, more corded muscle curving across his shoulders and chest, down his arms and abdomen. It was a man's body and Iwaizumi's gut had tightened at the sight of it. Then Oikawa had sighed in his sleep and turned his head in Iwaizumi's direction and it was if Iwaizumi saw his face for the first time.

He'd always known in an abstract kind of way that Oikawa was beautiful. Everyone – including Oikawa, especially Oikawa – had always said so and he'd supposed it was standard to acknowledge and catalogue the symmetry of someone's face. However, like everything else with Oikawa he'd grown accustomed to it over time. His blinding smiles and large, brown eyes and knowing smirks and smooth, unblemished skin hadn't had any effect on Iwaizumi. But at that moment Oikawa's beauty suddenly meant something to him. He hadn't known then what that tightening in his gut meant, what the flush of his skin signified. It had all been so new to him.

Without conscious thought, Iwaizumi had raised his hand and traced the soft and sharp contours of Oikawa's sleeping face. He'd reached Oikawa's lips before he'd realised just what he'd been doing, the softness of them taking him by surprise. He'd snatched his hand back as though it'd been burned, wondering what the hell he'd been doing.

He remembered sitting there, mind stunned into silence, racing without producing any conscious thought, watching Oikawa as the sun rose slowly over the horizon. He'd only snapped out of it when Oikawa had started shifting restlessly, his usual unconscious routine before waking. Without really deciding to Iwaizumi had all but run out of Oikawa's chambers, stopped by his own room only long enough to adorn his riding gear and collect his weapons, and then gone straight to the stables. He'd mounted his stallion Gojira and ridden out to the nearest town to the Royal City.

Iwaizumi had never engaged in whoring like all the other members of the army and Royal Guard. Oikawa had first gone to bed with a woman – an older woman, a thirty-one-year-old wife of one of the Lords – when he was fourteen. Iwaizumi knew this because Oikawa had come to him the next morning, beaming from ear to ear, and told him so. Iwaizumi remembered calling Oikawa trash and punching him in the face for sleeping with a married woman. Oikawa had not slept with a married woman since, though he'd certainly slept with a plethora of unmarried ones.

Iwaizumi had always figured his aversion to whoring had something to do with his parents, who no one could accuse of being happily married, mostly due his father's constant philandering. His parents had fallen in lust at a young age and married soon after. When the shine of infatuation had worn out, his mother had found herself as a lady's maid to a self-centred, selfish queen and with a baby in her belly. She'd been trapped in a life she hadn't quite wanted and she had resented Iwaizumi's father for it until the day he died.

While Iwaizumi's father had gone out on campaign after campaign Iwaizumi had heard of all his father's ills from his mother. But it was a hard thing to dissuade a young boy of his hero-worship of his father, especially when he didn't understand what whoring even was or what it meant to have mistresses. However, Iwaizumi had found out soon enough – after his father had taken him to a brothel for his thirteenth birthday. Iwaizumi had bolted from the premises, rode back to the castle on his horse, and run crying into the arms of his mother, who then had even more ammunition to use in her war of words against her husband.

His father had been a good man, in a way. He'd been kind and calm and steady. He'd never said a bad word about anyone, even his wife who so openly said the worst about him – though for good reason, one could easily argue. Perhaps he'd figured he owed her at least that. He'd also been a decent father in that he'd instilled in Iwaizumi what it meant to serve his king honourably, loyally and without question – though Iwaizumi had never quite managed the 'without question' part with Oikawa. Everything else Iwaizumi had learned about what it meant to be an honourable man, not just an honourable knight, came from watching his father and deciding that he'd be the opposite.

The profession of prostitution had never sat right with him either. He knew it was far too embedded in their society to be abolished, but unregulated as it was it allowed for the gross mistreatment of those who worked in the industry. Too often it was the poor and vulnerable that were preyed upon and taken advantage of.

So whoring was not an option for him. Besides, the female body had never appealed to Iwaizumi in the same way it seemed to appeal to other men. Sure, he appreciated its form, but he'd never had any real desire to take a closer look, to touch and taste and discover. So he'd never gone looking for a free sexual encounter either. He'd been propositioned by a few married court ladies, but he'd always turned them down on the basis of their marriage and hadn't put much thought into just how much he hadn't ever been tempted by any of the offers. Perhaps he'd thought cursorily now and then that maybe he should try it out to be sure, but it'd never seemed a pressing issue. He'd been far too busy going out on campaigns with his father and taking care of Oikawa – cleaning up after all the messes he made as he barrelled through life with little care to everyone else in it. Also, he'd always prided himself on his ironclad self-control, so leashing his libido – whenever it did arise and usually at the most unusual of times – had never been all that difficult.

That morning, however, it had suddenly become a pressing issue. He'd needed to figure out why he'd reacted to Oikawa's body when he'd never reacted to anyone else's. His first step had been to find female companionship without paying for it. It had been simple enough to pick an inn and flirt with the tavern's barmaid. She had wasted no time in inviting herself to his quarters later that evening. Iwaizumi had drunken himself into a near-stupor in nervous preparation, so when he'd been unable to perform he'd reasoned it was due to his severe inebriation. So the next night he'd gone to a different tavern in a different inn and done much the same, except this time he'd had no more than two pints of ale – an amount that would not affect his constitution at all. Yet the same thing had occurred…or rather, not occurred.

This had forced the realisation that he was not sexually attracted to women in the slightest. His following inability to even picture being intimate with a man other than Oikawa had then convinced him of one unavoidable truth – he was in love with his best friend, the crown prince of Aoba Johsai. In other words, he was fucked.

He'd used the ride home to shore up his defences. He could not act any differently, could not react to Oikawa's smiles, could not become aroused when Oikawa put his arm around his shoulders as he so often did, could not stare when he thought Oikawa wasn't looking, could not flush at the sight of his naked torso or body – as Oikawa was not one for modesty – and could not, could never, tell Oikawa how he felt. Because even if Oikawa ever felt the same way, it wouldn't matter. Not only were they two men, they were of completely different worlds, even though those worlds had collided in an unexpected way. Being raised alongside the crown prince due to convenience and the coincidental positions of his parents serving Oikawa's did not mean their worlds were the same, did not mean they were the same.

A distance had always existed between them from birth. They both knew it was there, but Oikawa had stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, much less pay heed to it. But then, Oikawa was the crown prince. Iwaizumi had never had the luxury of such stubbornness or selfishness. His place had been drilled into him ever since he could remember. His relationship with Oikawa was still highly unconventional in that Iwaizumi treated Oikawa just like any other person, but only in safe spaces and it had always been left to Iwaizumi to maintain an awareness of what those safe spaces were and were not. Oikawa acted how he wanted regardless, but how Iwaizumi responded to Oikawa's cloying affection or childish goading entirely depended on where they were at the time. Because Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa's father, the king, would only turn a blind eye to their unconventional friendship as long as they maintained proper decorum in public. Try getting Oikawa to abide by such rules, though – a lesson in futility, so it was up to Iwaizumi maintain it for the both of them, much to Oikawa's eternal frustration.

Maintaining that decorum was why Iwaizumi refused to share a tent with Oikawa on his first campaign, even knowing how much Oikawa needed him there for his continuing peace of mind. It was just too risky. They were surrounded by unfamiliar men, most of whom were not aware of the nature of their relationship, the closeness of their friendship – a word that had always seemed too small to capture whatever he and Oikawa were to each other. The only people who knew of it all were the rest of Oikawa's personal guard. It was only around them that Oikawa and Iwaizumi could relax. These men had earned Iwaizumi's trust a long time ago – trust that they wouldn't gossip and also that they were able to separate Oikawa as a man from Oikawa as a prince. They also had to know in what situations to treat Oikawa as a man or as a prince, and while there had been a few mess-ups along the way they had more or less figured it out after two and a half years.

However, it wasn't just the matter of decorum that caused Iwaizumi to argue fervently against sharing a tent during this campaign. He was still in love with Oikawa, two years on and with no signs of abating - not that he ever expected it to. Iwaizumi hadn't shared a room with Oikawa since that fateful night because while he possessed an almost inhuman amount of control, he didn't quite have that much. He used it all up by forcing himself not to react when Oikawa took him along as a guard for his many romantic liaisons with women. He used it all up to keep his face impassive as he heard the sounds of Oikawa making love with someone else in the next room, week after week after month after year. It was second nature now, to kill off the part of himself that wanted to shrivel up inside every time.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that Oikawa was in love with him too.

Back when Iwaizumi had first realised he loved Oikawa, he'd ridden back to the castle expecting Oikawa to rage at him for leaving so unexpectedly, without telling anyone where he'd been going and when he'd be back. But he hadn't. He'd merely smiled sadly at him and continued on as though Iwaizumi had been there the whole time. He'd acted towards Iwaizumi in exactly the same way as always, but even the best acting in the world would not be able hide or disguise the new awareness that crackled in the air between them. Even if it had, that first sad smile had told Iwaizumi all he needed to know.

Oikawa was in love with him too and had been aware of it for a while. He'd likely also known of Iwaizumi's reciprocation before Iwaizumi did, a thought which had frustrated Iwaizumi to no end.

He'd always hated it when Oikawa knew something about him before he himself did, simply because it made him feel like the world's greatest fool. Oikawa was the clever one. Iwaizumi was intelligent in his own way, but it was more in the realms of spatial awareness and common sense. Oikawa's mind was sharp and he read social situations and adapted himself to them as effortlessly as he breathed. His was the type of intelligence suited to a king, the type of intelligence far flashier and dramatic and overt. Iwaizumi's only method of maintaining some sense of intellectual equality to Oikawa was his uncanny way of knowing Oikawa better than Oikawa knew himself. It was in the way he could sense his moods and what he was thinking from a slight shift in his tone, a minute difference in his posture or facial expressions, the way he could see through every one of his false smiles.

Oikawa had come to depend on that and seemed to have no issue doing so. Iwaizumi, however, did not appreciate when Oikawa turned the tables on him because it made it that much harder to maintain some form of intellectual equality. It also that much harder for Iwaizumi to force himself to not depend on Oikawa the same way Oikawa did him.

That Oikawa had known they loved each other and hadn't acted on it in the slightest said it all, anyway. It said that even Oikawa knew it was hopeless for them; said that even Oikawa – who usually paid no heed to social conventions and decorum when it came to Iwaizumi – knew that this was crossing a bold, unmistakeable line. The crown prince could not consort with a man and he certainly could not consort with the captain of his personal guard, a knight, a commoner by birth.

Perhaps they could get away with it if it were only consorting, but Iwaizumi knew and Oikawa knew it'd never be that simple, that it would always be so much more, mean so much more. Too much.

Yet despite this unspoken agreement to never address the way they felt for each other, to never acknowledge the sexual tension that electrified the air around them, to never start something they couldn't stop, Oikawa still flirted with the line at every possible opportunity. Honestly, Iwaizumi would have been more surprised if he hadn't. Oikawa had always had an insatiable desire to know where all the limits were, part of his need to know everything about everyone and everything and every situation. It was also in part caused by his insecurity.

As much as Oikawa was Iwaizumi's weakness, Iwaizumi was Oikawa's, if not more so. Whereas Iwaizumi consciously prevented himself from depending on Oikawa, Oikawa was far too dependent on Iwaizumi. Whereas Oikawa would usually be completely confident in his assessment of a person's feelings for him, he always second-guessed himself with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi knew this was because he never gave any indication to Oikawa that he was in love with him, hadn't since that day two years ago. So as far as Oikawa knew, Iwaizumi no longer felt the same way. However, Oikawa refused to accept such an outcome so he constantly pushed Iwaizumi to the limits of his self-control, just to be able to prove to himself that Iwaizumi still loved him. He always had been a pain in the ass.

So Oikawa still asked Iwaizumi to stay with him, taking Iwaizumi's refusal as confirmation of his feelings, despite Iwaizumi arguing against it on the basis of decorum. The day Iwaizumi would be able to stay the night in the same bed as Oikawa again would be the day he no longer felt the same. Yet if Iwaizumi tried to disabuse Oikawa of this notion by shoring up every iota of his self-control and staying the night anyway, Oikawa would go to every length to ensure Iwaizumi really didn't love him anymore. And because Iwaizumi knew Oikawa, he knew he would not be able to withstand those lengths.

They were at a stalemate, one Oikawa constantly tried to break by attempting to tempt Iwaizumi with physical proximity and an overabundance of affection. If that didn't work, he'd turn to women and make sure Iwaizumi was there to witness it in the hopes of garnering a jealous reaction. Nothing had worked so far – Iwaizumi's self-control was reinforced by the terror and panic he felt at the thought of something happening just because Oikawa wanted reassurance. There would be no coming back from that. Oikawa knew this, yet it was as though he couldn't help himself from pushing and prodding Iwaizumi anyway and Iwaizumi was tiring of this game, wasn't sure how long he could hold out. He understood why Oikawa wouldn't leave him alone, but he also wished he would anyway – wished Oikawa would just let this be.

But that would never be enough for Oikawa, Iwaizumi knew. Oikawa always needed to know that he was the most important person to Iwaizumi and that Iwaizumi was his in some abstract way. In Oikawa's mind if Iwaizumi was in love with him then no one else would be able to take him away. Also, Oikawa had too much pride to be able to stand being in love with someone who didn't love him back.

As Iwaizumi reached Oikawa's tent he could only hope that Oikawa wasn't in the mood for games today, that his form of processing or distracting himself from what had occurred on the battlefield did not include riling Iwaizumi up. Because Iwaizumi, still sticky with sweat and the blood of his enemies, was not in the mood for their game. He was also too tired – emotionally, physically, and mentally – to shore up his defences against whatever attack Oikawa could think up. He could only hope Oikawa was too exhausted himself to bother thinking of one.

He entered the tent to see Oikawa standing in full armour facing his basin of water, off to one side in the huge space. There were no servants in sight, which hardly surprised Iwaizumi because Oikawa always had liked to be alone when he was feeling vulnerable or unsure of himself. Being with Iwaizumi had always been Oikawa's preference to being alone, though.

Iwaizumi briefly considering leading with an insult, but the fragile way Oikawa was holding himself made him decide it was not the right time for half-hearted attempts at bad jokes. Then Oikawa turned and Iwaizumi's heart clenched at the look on his face.

He looked lost.

Iwaizumi would just have to help Oikawa find himself again. That's what he did best, after all. So Iwaizumi immediately retracted his first thought – nothing brought Oikawa back to himself like being insulted.

"Hey, Trashykawa!" Iwaizumi growled as he stalked over to Oikawa. Then he flicked him on the forehead.

"Ow! Iwa-chan, so mean!" Oikawa whined, but far more subdued than he usually was when Iwaizumi got violent, like his response was more reflex due to numerous years of repeating the same interchange than a genuine response.

"Your hair's all flat. You look like an idiot," Iwaizumi stated before running his fingers through Oikawa's brown hair – ignoring the matted blood as he attempted to get it closer to its usual meticulous state.

Oikawa sighed quietly. "I suppose even a crown prince can fall victim to the evils of helmet hair."

No over-confident rejoinder about the ability of his charm and charisma to overcome even the direst of circumstances? This was worse than Iwaizumi thought. The day Oikawa passed up an opportunity to provoke Iwaizumi by blatantly overestimating himself was a day Iwaizumi never thought he'd see – had never wanted to see. Oikawa without his infuriating and terrible personality was like a night sky without stars.

For once Iwaizumi was at a complete loss. Usually if Oikawa was feeling down about something – and there had been many of those times over the years – Iwaizumi was able to bring him back to himself by treating him like shit. In other words, by treating him like he was literally any other human being; treating him worse than Iwaizumi would treat any other human being, even, like there was nothing special about him at all. It made Oikawa feel normal, feel like he didn't have the weight of a whole country resting on his shoulders; made him remember who he really was, not what he was.

Iwaizumi analytically regarded Oikawa, who was gazing off to the side, eyes unfocused. He was already inside his own head, unaware of his surroundings. This is not good. Iwaizumi knew he had to do something to distract him, and fast.

"Well, let's get that armour off you and clean you up, yeah?" he offered. He figured he could keep Oikawa distracted with his proximity and touch – Oikawa always did get flustered despite himself the rare times Iwaizumi initiated any non-essential physical contact. He'd just add a few brushes of his fingers against Oikawa's skin as he helped him with his armour. Iwaizumi was confident he could handle that much, and Oikawa's state of being called for such measures.

Oikawa merely nodded and stood passively and silently, awaiting Iwaizumi's ministrations. Iwaizumi debated talking, but couldn't think of anything to say. Oikawa was the talkative one, not him.

Iwaizumi slowly and cautiously divested Oikawa of his larger and heavier outer layer of metal armour, systematically disconnecting the heavy plates and depositing them off to the side. Next, he painstakingly removed the cumbersome chainmail, not speaking but to instruct Oikawa to lift his arms and then bend forward as Iwaizumi was not quite tall enough to slide it off vertically. Iwaizumi only started paying attention to what he was doing when Oikawa was down to the leather padding strapped across his chest, stomach, back, shoulders, forearms, and thighs. It would be simple enough to remove them all perfunctorily, but that wouldn't give Oikawa any incentive to exit his endless cycle of thoughts and re-enter the physical world.

So when Iwaizumi unbuckled the straps at Oikawa's forearms, he made sure the tips of his fingers trailed against the soft fabric of the shirt underneath. And when he removed the upper arm pads, he skimmed his knuckles along the inside of Oikawa's bicep. Oikawa's head snapped to the side Iwaizumi was working on and his gaze sharpened.

He was back.

To keep him there, Iwaizumi repeated the same motions on the other side, his breath shallowing under the weight of Oikawa's heated gaze. He could feel Oikawa's intelligent eyes follow his every move, could see the heavily beating pulse in Oikawa's neck, could hear the hitch in his breath every time Iwaizumi touched him. Iwaizumi could almost hear the thoughts spinning and circling around in Oikawa's head, quickly figuring out what Iwaizumi was doing and just as quickly deciding it didn't matter before dropping into blessed silence. He felt Oikawa's whole body relax as he allowed himself to simple enjoy Iwaizumi's touch, to focus on that and nothing else.

Iwaizumi's mind too was completely blank, only functioning enough to decide just when to touch Oikawa, just where and just how. Just enough but not too much. Never too much. But this was okay. This was the closest he'd allowed himself to Oikawa in months and the first time he'd initiated any sort of contact that went beyond simple friendly affection.

This was not friendly affection. Friends did not seductively run their fingers and knuckles and palms across the body of their friends when helping them removing armour. Friends did not become short of breath or painfully aroused while doing so, either.

When Oikawa was finally down to just his linen shirt and trousers, Iwaizumi stopped and looked and swallowed a sob that threatened to escape. Oikawa's shirt was covered in blood, soaked through. Iwaizumi knew none of it was his own – there had been no breaks in Oikawa's armour. No, this was the blood of all the men Oikawa had slain that day, so much blood that it had managed to find all the narrow cracks between the metal plates and coat itself over his skin. It painted bold red streaks up his graceful neck and splattered haphazard patterns across the smooth skin of his cheeks.

Iwaizumi knew he probably didn't look much better. He hadn't even thought to change his own shirt before coming here, so accustomed was he to being attired in bloodied clothes, so accustomed was he to the feeling of blood forming a flaking layer over his own skin. This was his life, this was what he did, who he was. This was never what he wanted for Oikawa.

He wanted Oikawa to remain safe and untouched in his high castle tower, not segregated from the world but segregated from this. Though perhaps that was an unreasonable goal, seeing as much of the world seemed to be at war. The only reason he'd not suffered an emotional breakdown at the thought of Oikawa on the battlefield was because he had confidence in his own and his men's ability to protect Oikawa from all potential enemies. Iwaizumi had refused to leave Oikawa's side on the battlefield, but they had become overrun and Oikawa had had to get his sword christened after all. It had only been Oikawa's quick thinking and clever strategies that had both saved their lives and won them the battle.

Iwaizumi realised he'd been staring at Oikawa for too long. Oikawa was staring back, a small, sad smile curling his lips.

"I always wondered how you looked, these past three years."

"What?" Iwaizumi hadn't been expecting Oikawa to say anything. Verballing acknowledging unnecessary and dangerous things had never been their way.

"After battle. When you came back home you looked as you always did. Perhaps a few bandages here and there, especially at first, but you looked the same, like war hadn't affected you at all. I figured maybe that was just because you'd had time to collect yourself between the battlefield and the castle." Oikawa paused and Iwaizumi was too surprised to even think of saying something.

"But here you are, just after battle, and you're still exactly how you always are." He laughed, but the sound was brittle. "Just covered in blood and people's insides, of course."

Iwaizumi cleared his throat uncomfortably. "How…how did you expect me to be?"

Oikawa laughed again, self-mocking this time. "I'm not entirely sure now. Perhaps…shaken, upset, unsure of yourself. Things you never usually are."

Iwaizumi shrugged, knowing what Oikawa was getting at. "I have been all of those things, but I'm not anymore. At least, not enough to be unable to put them aside."

Oikawa's eyes softened. "You don't need to put them aside, not with me."

That was where Oikawa was dead wrong. Iwaizumi couldn't allow himself to depend on Oikawa that way, because that would lead to dependence in other things. Like having his nightmares soothed by Oikawa's presence as he'd once done, which would lead to other things – dangerous, forbidden things. Things that were brewing in the air around them now.

"What I need to do is clean some of that blood off you," Iwaizumi replied, not even bothering to be subtle about changing the subject. Oikawa smirked, all bitterness and cynicism, and let the topic go. He knew better than anyone when Iwaizumi would budge and when he would not, knew when he'd reached the line both of them refuse to acknowledge but both knew was there.

Without saying a word Iwaizumi moved to the basin, wet the provided cloth, and turned back to Oikawa to see he'd already removed his bloodied shirt. Iwaizumi was well accustomed to the sight of Oikawa's naked torso so he barely reacted to the sight of it then. He hadn't touched it, though. Not in two years.

Iwaizumi inhaled bracingly and approached Oikawa. Without meeting his eyes, he started to methodically wipe the drying blood off Oikawa's chest and shoulders. He ignored the way they trembled. When he started wiping Oikawa's neck he noticed Oikawa was swallowing deeply and more frequently than he needed to. When he reached Oikawa's face he knew what he was going to see and he knew it would break every restraint he'd ever placed on himself, but he was powerless to do anything but continue, because like he'd so bluntly indicated to Oikawa, this wasn't about him, this wasn't about his needs.

Iwaizumi's eyes met Oikawa's to see they were overflowing with tears that tracked pathways through the blood splatters on his cheeks. Iwaizumi wordlessly used the cloth to wipe them and the blood away, but they didn't stop.

"I could have saved more," Oikawa whispered hoarsely, his voice tortured. "I could have prevented -"

"Don't," Iwaizumi ordered sharply. If Oikawa started going down that road of thought he'd never get off it, he'd never be able to be to move on from that day, never be able to repeat it over and over again on other days. And he needed to be able to do that because that's what was going to happen. This was war, after all.

"But…"

Iwaizumi abandoned the cloth and cupped Oikawa's face firmly in his battle-calloused hands. "Don't. You don't need to do this to yourself, Oikawa." He used his thumb to wipe a new tear-track away. "I won't let you."

Oikawa inhaled a shuddering breath. "What would I do without you, Iwa-chan."

One side of Iwaizumi's mouth lifted up into a small smile, but his eyes were complete serious when he promised, "You'll never have to find out."

Oikawa's hands, previously lifeless by his sides, moved to gently rest on Iwaizumi's hips. Iwaizumi's pulse leaped at the contact, and again when Oikawa closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi's eyes closed reflexively and they stood there, just breathing each other in. Iwaizumi had never been so aware of Oikawa's location in conjunction to his own before, never been so aware of Oikawa's slender hands and where they were situated, never been so aware of so small a space as the one that separated their lips. He knew if he opened his eyes he'd be opening a door that could not be closed again.

So he didn't open them when he felt the tentative brush of Oikawa's lips against his own, even as his heart jumped in his chest and fire lit up his body from the inside out. He didn't open them when Oikawa kissed him again, firmer this time, surer, even though his fingers desperately pressed into the back of Oikawa's neck. He didn't open them when Oikawa tightened his hands on Iwaizumi's hips, digging his fingers into the flesh there, and whispered, "Open your eyes." He didn't open his eyes but he didn't move away either. He felt as though he'd been caught in suspension, unable to move forward, unable to move back. Every particle of his being was screaming at him to open his eyes, to close the gap between them, both physically and metaphorically. But he didn't open his eyes, weighed down by years of strict conditioning and far too much fear.

Fear because they were at the precipice of something unknown and terrifying in its enormity. Fear because they meant too much to each other to ever come back from taking a step too far, from taking a step over the line and into the forbidden. Fear because Iwaizumi wanted it so damn much. Too damn much. It had always been too much with them.

He needed to move away, needed to leave, needed to preserve the fragile space between them.

But then Oikawa kissed him again, desperate now. Hungry. Full of want and need. Iwaizumi groaned. "Tooru." He hadn't known Oikawa's first name – a name he hadn't called him since they were kids – was on the cusp of his lips, ready to escape and condemn them both.

Oikawa's breath caught on a sob and he pressed his forehead harder against Iwaizumi's, so hard it was almost painful. "Hajime, please. I need you."

And Iwaizumi opened his eyes, because those were the three words that ensured Iwaizumi would do anything, cross any line, and Oikawa knew it. He knew it and as childish as he could be, he would never use those words against Iwaizumi as part of a game, as part of some manipulation he was engaging in. Oikawa would only ever use those words if he really meant them.

So Iwaizumi opened his eyes, looked into Oikawa's a scant inch away, and saw all the things in them he'd both so desperately wanted to see and never wanted to know. And he'd opened the door now; the floodgates holding back everything he'd suppressed for two years had been released. So when Iwaizumi roughly pulled Oikawa's lips to his own it was with all the pent-up passion and desperation and hunger and loneliness and anger and hopelessness and obsession and joy and longing and need and love – overwhelming, all-consuming love – that he'd never allowed himself to express before.

It was not enough and all too much all at once. They gripped onto each other as though all the forces of nature were trying to tear them apart. Their arms wrapped around each other like vices, lips opened and tongues seeking the other as their bodies struggled to keep up with the all the overflowing emotions their hearts were attempting to communicate. Now they were finally able to express what they felt it seemed they didn't know how to manage it, unable to cope with everything they were feeling. So Iwaizumi pulled back, pressing soft kisses against Oikawa's seeking lips and tenderly brushing his hair back from his face.

If they were going to do this – and it was irrefutable now that they were, gone too far to turn back – Iwaizumi didn't want it to be so rushed that he barely knew what was going on. He wanted to savour it, every single moment, so when he was back in his own bed, back to his old ways, he could pull out this memory whenever he needed it and replay it over and over, second by second. It needed to last him a lifetime.

So he took his time as he kissed his way down Oikawa's neck, making sure to catalogue and file away the feel and taste of the skin there. He traced his hands slowly over the contours of Oikawa's ribs and abdomen, in awe and wonder because he was finally touching Oikawa's body how he'd longed to. He marvelled at the way Oikawa's breath hitched as he sucked over the pulse in his neck, the way his heart pounded underneath Iwaizumi's hand, the way he flinched when Iwaizumi rubbed his hand across the muscles of his back.

"Off," Oikawa begged in a hoarse whisper and tugged at the base of Iwaizumi's shirt impatiently. Iwaizumi quickly tore it off over his head and brought Oikawa's lean, supple body against his own, marvelling at the sensation of skin on skin.

Oikawa's hands roamed restlessly across the expanse of Iwaizumi's broad back as Iwaizumi gripped his face and kissed Oikawa deeply, dipping is tongue in to taste every corner of Oikawa's mouth. Oikawa gasped into Iwaizumi's mouth as their now-hard lengths brushed against each other. Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and pressed his face into Oikawa's neck, fighting for self-control.

Oikawa cupped Iwaizumi's face with one hand and brought it up to his own, kissing him lightly before pulling back and smiling at Iwaizumi as though everything in the world was right. If that was meant to calm Iwaizumi down, it completely failed – had the opposite effect, even. Iwaizumi groaned and wrenched Oikawa against him, devouring his lips, urgently rubbing their bodies together.

"Hajime…" Oikawa gasped when their lips finally parted and followed it with a low, pleading moan. "Please…"

Iwaizumi bit at Oikawa's nape and rubbed the pad of a finger across one of his nipples, making Oikawa hiss with pleasure. "It's okay, Tooru. I know what you need."

Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa and started walking backwards towards the bed made up of piles of blanket and furs, guiding them almost subconsciously so his lips did not have to be separated from Oikawa. When his calves hit the bed he sat and Oikawa straddled him, hips aligned with hips. Iwaizumi gripped at Oikawa's ass and pulled their groins together more firmly, shifting his hips rhythmically to garner the friction his body so badly craved.

Iwaizumi tongued Oikawa's nipple, eliciting a sound that made Iwaizumi suddenly very aware that as much as he wanted to prolong and savour this experience, if he didn't move this along he wasn't going to last much longer. With that in mind he reached for the opening of Oikawa's pants and struggled to undo them with clumsy, trembling fingers. He hated that his fingers, usually so easily managed, felt thick and unwieldly now when he needed them the most. He swore under his breath in frustration and Oikawa's hands – those graceful hands with those long, slender fingers Iwaizumi had always admired – covered Iwaizumi's own.

Oikawa gently brushed Iwaizumi's hands aside, kissed Iwaizumi's forehead and said, "It's okay, Iwa-chan. I've got it."

Iwaizumi screwed his eyes shut and fought against a sudden onset of tears. God, I love him so much. So much. I can't…I…

Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around Oikawa's waist and buried his face in his neck, just feeling him and breathing him and never wanting to let go. Oikawa encircled Iwaizumi's shoulders and neck with his arms and rested his cheek against Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi didn't know how long they stayed like that for, just holding each other while Iwaizumi struggled to control his emotions, but it was long enough for the touch to shift from comforting to something more, something darker.

Iwaizumi open his mouth against the skin of Oikawa's neck and Oikawa's fingers dug into Iwaizumi's shoulders. Iwaizumi bit down and Oikawa ground his hips into Iwaizumi's. Their mouths sought each other openly and came together sloppily with tongue and teeth and moans. Iwaizumi picked Oikawa up by his thighs and turned them around, hastily pushing Oikawa's against the bed. Oikawa reached for him, but Iwaizumi moved down to tug Oikawa's pants off and quickly rid himself of his own.

He allowed himself a second – just a second – to admire Oikawa's naked, aroused body before he slid against it with his own, skin against skin. Oikawa opened his legs to accommodate Iwaizumi's weight and they rutted against each other, kissing and biting and grasping.

Iwaizumi so badly wanted to fill Oikawa up, but he wasn't entirely sure how. He'd heard enough talk around the barracks to know that the woman had to be wet otherwise it would be painful for her, but Oikawa wasn't a woman and…

"Wet your finger and put it inside me, Iwa-chan. Stretch me out," Oikawa gasped, obviously feeling the hesitancy in Iwaizumi's actions. Iwaizumi wanted to be grateful for the guidance and not question how Oikawa knew such a thing, but he couldn't stand the idea that Oikawa had done this with someone else, someone who wasn't him.

As if predicting Iwaizumi's questions, sensing his jealousy, Oikawa put his palms on either side of Iwaizumi's face, looked into his eyes and said seriously – more serious than Iwaizumi had ever seen him, "You're the only one, Hajime."

Iwaizumi exhaled a shuddering breath and decided that after that, questions could wait. He needed to be inside Oikawa, needed to be connected to him in every way. So he did as Oikawa had directed, hissing out a breath as he pushed past the initial resistance and felt Oikawa contract around him, envelop him.

Oikawa gasped and threw his head back as Iwaizumi moved his finger inside him. "Does it hurt? Should I stop?" Iwaizumi queried worriedly. He hadn't known what to expect, didn't know how this was supposed to feel, so he wasn't sure if Oikawa was enjoying it or not – was supposed to at all.

"Don't stop," Oikawa reassured him. "It's just…ah! Just been a while since…um…since I've done this to myself."

That stopped Iwaizumi in his tracks. He stared down at Oikawa's face in confusion. "You…do this to yourself?"

Oikawa flushed red and covered his face with his hands. "Yes…"

Well, that answered that question from before. But Iwaizumi still had more. "Why?"

"Not telling," Oikawa mumbled stubbornly.

Iwaizumi scowled and wiggled his finger inside Oikawa in displeasure. He felt a spongy spot and pressed against it out of curiosity. He must have done something right – or wrong, it was hard to tell – because Oikawa yelped and twitched violently.

"Oikawa?" Iwaizumi kind of wanted to do it again, but only if he knew it didn't cause Oikawa any pain or physical discomfort.

Oikawa exhaled a few short, sharp breaths before answering, "That's why."

"Huh?" Iwaizumi grunted and moved Oikawa's hands from his face.

Oikawa's eyes met Iwaizumi's briefly before he looked away – colour was high on his cheeks. "I do it because of that, Iwaizumi. Because it feels good. Because I was curious. Because I'd always hoped it'd be…always wanted it to be…" His eyes met Iwaizumi's again. You, they said. I'd always hoped it'd be you. Always wanted it to be you.

Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa hard: It is now. For now, but Iwaizumi wouldn't think about that yet.

"Can I put another one in?" Iwaizumi asked, mostly to distract himself from thoughts he didn't want to acknowledge.

Oikawa nodded. "Just…ah…make it wetter. And touch me."

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly and approached the task as though he were preparing to go into battle – full concentration, paying attention to every little thing, carrying out each task meticulously, methodically.

He sat back on his knees and watched with a strange kind of detachment as he pushed another finger inside Oikawa's wet and loosening entrance, as they disappeared inside him. He moved them in and out, brushing that spot he now knew Oikawa really liked, as his other hand worked Oikawa's erection, slick with moisture.

It was after a third finger was inside that he heard Oikawa's soft laughter.

"What?" he questioned distractedly as he moved his fingers in and out and around.

Oikawa's thumb lightly brushed the space between Iwaizumi's eyebrows. "So serious, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi blinked at Oikawa in confusion, looked back down at his fingers that had disappeared inside Oikawa, then back up at Oikawa again. "Huh?" Was he not supposed to be serious about this? He just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt Oikawa.

Oikawa smiled at him and it was a smile so full of tender fondness that it actually took Iwaizumi's breath away. "You were scowling."

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. "I was?" He flushed; he was always scowling when he didn't mean to. People had always found him intimidating because of it. Now seemed like the worst time of all to be intimidating. Oikawa must have found it really unappealing. "Sorry."

Oikawa smiled again, that same smile that took Iwaizumi's breath away, and pulled Iwaizumi towards him. "Don't be. I think your scowl is cute."

Iwaizumi, his face now hovering over Oikawa's, look down at him in something like horror. "Cute?"

Oikawa laughed. Iwaizumi didn't think he'd ever seen him so happy, so carefree. "Yes. You're so cute, Iwa-chan. It makes me want to kiss you."

Now that was something Iwaizumi could get behind. "Then kiss me," he whispered against Oikawa's lips, shifting the mood from playful to intense in the space of a few seconds.

But Oikawa didn't kiss him. He bit down on Iwaizumi's bottom lip and drew it out between his teeth.

"Fuck…" Iwaizumi groaned and hungrily took Oikawa's mouth with his. He started moving his fingers inside Oikawa again, brushing against that spot over and over, making Oikawa moan and cry out.

"Hajime," Oikawa cried out, part pleading, part scolding, after the fourth time Iwaizumi brushed against that spot. "I'm ready."

Iwaizumi pressed a quick kiss against his lips: I know.

Iwaizumi positioned himself at Oikawa's entrance and tried not to think too hard about what he was about to do, afraid the realisation would make him falter. He was about to be inside Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru, his first love. His only love. His soulmate. He trembled.

Don't think about it. Just get it done.

Oikawa placed his palm against Iwaizumi's cheek: It's okay.

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and turned his face into Oikawa's palm. It was now.

He pushed inside, slowly, steadily, aching with every inch. It was only when he was fully seated inside that he dared open his eyes, dared look at Oikawa.

Oikawa had his eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth parted. Iwaizumi took advantage of Oikawa's inattention, allowed himself to stare hungrily at Oikawa's face contorted with pleasure, painted a picture of it in his mind so he would never forget it.

Too soon Oikawa opened his eyes, saw Iwaizumi gazing down at him, and smiled. "Hey."

One side of Iwaizumi's mouth tipped up into a fond smile. "Hey."

"You're inside me," Oikawa observed calmly.

Iwaizumi's smile widened at the absurdity of this conversation. Typical Oikawa. God, he loved him. "I am."

"And you're smiling," Oikawa accused.

"I am." Iwaizumi was outright grinning now.

"I wonder if that has anything to do with me," Oikawa mused with false ignorance.

Iwaizumi laughed and Oikawa's face blanked out in shock. He'd obviously been expecting Iwaizumi to insult him, but Iwaizumi was feeling pretty generous.

"What can I say?" He smiled down at Oikawa, a smiled imbued with everything he felt for this infuriating, incorrigible man. "You make me happy."

Oikawa closed his eyes, turned his head to the side and groaned. "You can't say those things to me and expect me to…"

Let you go.

Iwaizumi didn't need to see Oikawa's eyes to understand that one. He felt exactly the same. So he tenderly turned Oikawa's face back to his, kissed him, and started to move inside him.

I know.


Present

They'd made love to each other slowly that night and even though it'd been almost three years Iwaizumi remembered every touch, every sigh, every gasp, every word that went unspoken but was communicated by his body moving inside Oikawa and Oikawa's bottomless brown eyes.

Their eyes had never left each other; their gaze had never wavered. All their awkwardness and hesitation had melted away as they'd focused solely on the connection between them, on that meeting of their hearts and bodies.

They'd climaxed together – clichéd but unable to be any other way – gasping each other's names, kissing each other's lips. Then they'd lay there in each other's arms, not speaking – neither of them knowing what to say, not having words to capture nor describe what had just occurred between them.

Oikawa had eventually drifted off to sleep, too exhausted by all the events of that day to remain awake any longer. Iwaizumi had watched him breathe, fighting off his own exhaustion, and cried for the first time in his adult life. Cried for the men they'd lost that day, cried for the loss of Oikawa's innocence by taking his first human life, cried for himself, cried for them. Because they were hopeless – he and Oikawa. Completely and utterly. Unable to be together yet unable to stay away. But Iwaizumi had tried – oh, how he'd tried. And he had decided, as he'd finally left Oikawa's tent to seek out his own, to continue trying to maintain that distance.

Iwaizumi had felt so old back then, so matured, so sure of himself, but it had been so laughably arrogant of him to think he could prevent such an occurrence through the strength of his will alone. He'd only been eighteen, after all, and Oikawa was his first love – first everything.

He'd also been unbearably naïve to think that night would be the only night, that time the only time. Now, almost three years on, he'd savoured Oikawa's body too many nights, woken up to him too many times, unable to deny himself the pleasure of Oikawa being the first thing he saw the next day. Not that he would ever let Oikawa know that, of course.

He hadn't known the wet heat of Oikawa's mouth that often, though. Hadn't known it for years, in fact. They'd completely explored each other's bodies during that first year together, so Iwaizumi had allowed Oikawa to perform this act a few times, choosing to think of it as indulging Oikawa's curiosity instead of accepting it as a service for his own benefit. Eventually, however, Iwaizumi had stretched his definition of curiosity far enough and ensured from then on that Oikawa would be the only one of the receiving end of such a selfless act.

But today Oikawa had been oddly insistent. He'd sent a servant to Iwaizumi in the barracks, requesting his presence. Iwaizumi hadn't been expecting it – Oikawa knew to leave him be after he'd been training and drinking with his men unless it was a legitimate emergency, and Iwaizumi knew there was only one thing Oikawa could want at this time of night. But he'd come, if for no other reason than to scold Oikawa for still being awake so late at night when he had to resume treaty negotiations with Karasuno early the next morning so they could finally end this damned war.

When he'd arrived at Oikawa's bedchambers, mouth poised open ready to let loose, Oikawa had desperately kissed him into silence, stripped them both faster than Iwaizumi had ever seen him move in his entire life, and had Iwaizumi laid back on the bed and his cock in his mouth before Iwaizumi could really process what was happening.

Iwaizumi had immediately recognised it would be completely pointless to attempt to disabuse Oikawa of his chosen course of action – there was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Iwaizumi had also immediately recognised that something must be seriously wrong for Oikawa to be so single-mindedly insistent about giving Iwaizumi pleasure and he knew wouldn't find out what it was until Oikawa had indulged in this compulsion.

Which all meant that Oikawa was currently doing everything in his power to make Iwaizumi climax and Iwaizumi, in turn, was doing everything in his power not to while still allowing Oikawa to do what he pleased. But he was fast approaching his limit.

Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa's head away from him with the hand already gripping hair. "Enough," he stated, trying to keep his tone even and authoritative. If he gave an inch, Oikawa would take a mile.

Oikawa frowned up at him. "But I'm not done."

Iwaizumi frowned back. "I am."

Oikawa pouted. "But I want to make you cum, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi scowled, pulled Oikawa up from his position between Iwaizumi's legs and flipped them over so Oikawa was on his stomach on the soft bed. He gripped a fistful of Oikawa's hair once more, exposed his neck, put his lips to Oikawa's ear and said in a low voice, "I decide when I want to come and I've decided I want to come when I'm in here." He ground his erection against Oikawa's ass so Oikawa was perfectly clear just what here he was referring to.

Iwaizumi felt Oikawa's whole body shudder beneath him and he smiled in triumph as Oikawa moaned an 'okay'. He would never tire of the affect he had on Oikawa, this ability to bend him completely to his will. It wasn't a power anyone else had and it was a power no one other than Iwaizumi could have, because Iwaizumi was the one person who would never take advantage of it, only use it in the right circumstances.

Like now.

He reached down to Oikawa's entrance and was shocked to find it was already slippery and loose. "You prepared yourself?" he asked incredulously. The question of when was silently implied.

Oikawa moaned into the pillow and gripped the bed sheets in his fists as Iwaizumi pushed a finger inside him. He mumbled an answer into the pillow.

"I didn't quite catch that," Iwaizumi said as he lightly brushed his finger over the bundle of nerves that always made Oikawa jolt in pleasure.

Oikawa quickly turned his head to the side and clarified, "When I had you in my mouth."

"Jesus," Iwaizumi groaned into Oikawa's neck and pushed a second and third finger inside him. Watching Oikawa finger himself usually drove him crazy, so he must have been really far gone – head stuck in the past like a fool – to have missed that.

"It's a sin to take the Lord's name in vain, Iwa-chan," Oikawa scolded teasingly, his voice light, as he bore down on Iwaizumi's fingers.

Iwaizumi huffed out a laugh despite himself. "Says the man who just had my dick in his mouth and is currently riding my fingers."

"Says the man who'd prefer to be riding something else," Oikawa challenged.

Far be it from Iwaizumi to reject such a challenge. "Allow me to help you with that," Iwaizumi replied and spread Oikawa apart.

"No, wait!" Oikawa cried out suddenly and Iwaizumi froze. He waited for Oikawa to indicate what he wanted Iwaizumi to do, but silence prevailed.

"…Oikawa?"

"I…I want to be on my back." Oikawa's voice was small and uncertain – completely out of character.

Iwaizumi wordlessly flipped Oikawa over, searching Oikawa's face for the answer to what was wrong with him. Oikawa, however, only looked up at him with a soft smile – one of his rare genuine ones. Iwaizumi scowled down at him and didn't move.

After a few moments Oikawa shifted restlessly beneath him. "I'm ready, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi scowled some more and pressed a quick, firm kiss to Oikawa's smiling lips, an action that said I know something's wrong and you're going to tell me what it is.

Oikawa chuckled and kissed away Iwaizumi's frown. Iwaizumi received the message loud and clear: I know, Iwa-chan. I'll tell you later, I promise.

Iwaizumi's scowl deepened: You'd better.

Oikawa smiled serenely in response and pressed his thumb to the deep creases between Iwaizumi's brows. Iwaizumi let out a long-suffering sigh. Oikawa had been doing that to him ever since they were kids, usually accompanied by something like "You're scaring the wildlife away, Iwa-chan" or "If you keep doing that you'll get premature wrinkles, Iwa-chan" or "I know you're not beautiful like me, Iwa-chan, but that doesn't mean you should give up on your looks completely". And then there was that one time... "I think your scowl is cute." But Iwaizumi wasn't going to think about that night anymore – he was feeling unbalanced enough by Oikawa's actions as it was.

This time the familiar gesture was accompanied with an impatient rub of erection against erection.

Iwaizumi's hips responded reflexively. Message fucking received. He leaned back to rest on his knees, tilted Oikawa's hips up and spread him apart before slowly breaching his entrance. Iwaizumi let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding when he was finally fully sheathed. It didn't matter how many times he did this, it always felt as good as it had the first time.

Stop thinking about that, already! he scolded himself.

Oikawa moaned and shifted, signalling for Iwaizumi to move. Iwaizumi dug his fingers into Oikawa's hips as he slowly thrust in and out of his tight heat. He'd threw his head back and closed his eyes as he allowed himself to savour the feel of it before it was time to fully focus on giving Oikawa as much pleasure as he was able. He'd always allowed himself these precious moments to just feel before he turned his attention away from himself – he felt like they'd kept him sane all these years, made everything else he had to deal with as a result of this relationship easier to bear.

He opened his eyes only to find Oikawa looking intently up at him. Oikawa started slightly when he saw that Iwaizumi was looking back.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him: What are you doing?

Oikawa flushed and covered his face with his arm. Iwaizumi scowled, not only because it was very unlike Oikawa to cover his face – his self-admitted favourite part of himself – but also because Iwaizumi wanted to look at Oikawa's face while he was moving inside him. It was his favourite part of Oikawa too, after all – something he would never admit to aloud.

Iwaizumi shifted off his knees and leaned forward over Oikawa so he could promptly remove the offending arm. However, as soon as he did so Oikawa abruptly wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi and pulled him down so they were skin-against-skin.

Iwaizumi braced his forearms on either side of Oikawa's head for balance and looked at him in surprise. "What…"

Oikawa gazed up at Iwaizumi with some indiscernible emotion – though if Iwaizumi were to take a guess, he'd go with panic. But that didn't make any sense.

"Like this. I want to do it like this," Oikawa whispered as he pulled Iwaizumi's face down to kiss him and started slowly shifting his body up and down Iwaizumi's hard length.

Iwaizumi was completely confused and extremely concerned by this point, but he didn't know what to do other than what Oikawa wanted him to. So he hugged Oikawa to him, cheek pressed against cheek, and made love to him slowly, even though they hadn't done that since that first night. Iwaizumi had never allowed himself to, knowing that doing so would obliterate the last flimsy barrier that still existed between them.

When Oikawa had summoned Iwaizumi to his tent the second night, Iwaizumi had known why immediately and just like he had on that horse ride back to the castle following his realisation of his feelings, he'd used the walk over to shore up his defences. He and Oikawa had crossed a line and Iwaizumi had not been able to change that – wouldn't, even if he could have – but he had been able to control what occurred from there on out.

He'd known he couldn't have a complete partnership of body and soul with Oikawa, not long term. Everything in their lives prevented it, so if Iwaizumi gave himself over to Oikawa fully again and again, he knew he'd never be able to let go. And one day he'd have to let go because Oikawa was a crown prince, heir to the throne. He'd have to marry one day, likely a day not so far away, and produce an heir and there was absolutely nothing Iwaizumi could do to prevent that. He'd known that if he engaged in a partnership of body and soul with Oikawa – a continuation of the previous night – neither of them would be able to let go when the time came. Iwaizumi had known he couldn't make Oikawa's choice for him, but he could make a choice for himself, one that would protect both himself and, more importantly, Oikawa in the long term. So he'd chosen to give his body, as Oikawa demanded, but not his soul.

So Iwaizumi had fucked Oikawa that night, and all the nights since. He'd kept it purely physically, consciously disengaging his heart from their actions. That wasn't to say he didn't show any affection during these times, but he kept the motive physical, not emotional.

He knew Oikawa wasn't entirely satisfied with how things were, knew Iwaizumi was withholding his heart from him, but being able to have Iwaizumi's body had seemed to be enough for him. Until now, anyway.

Iwaizumi didn't know what was going on with Oikawa, but he couldn't help but respond in the only way he knew how – by giving Oikawa what he needed.

He didn't know how long they made love like that, wrapped in each other's arms so tightly it was a wonder they could still breathe. Iwaizumi felt as though he could stay that way with Oikawa forever, just pause that moment in time and never let it resume. It was just him and Oikawa and their bodies saying all the things they never dared say out loud, just like that first time, but also different because this wasn't an inexperienced, exhausted fumble in the dark as they desperately tried to manage their overwhelming emotions. Their bodies knew each other now, fit together, spoke to each other softly and patiently and with the familiarity of experience.

Iwaizumi didn't think anything could possibly make him want to stop, to lose those feelings, until he felt wetness on his cheek that wasn't his own. He lifted his head and looked at Oikawa. His eyes were scrunched shut, tears running down his face.

Alarmed, Iwaizumi cupped Oikawa's face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears, but they kept falling. "Oikawa! What's wrong?"

A sob escaped Oikawa's throat, but he kept his eyes shut and stubbornly shook his head from side to side.

Iwaizumi remembered their current position and fear shot through his body. "Am I hurting you? Did I hurt you?" he asked urgently as he moved to withdraw from Oikawa's body.

"No!" Oikawa cried out suddenly and tightened his legs around Iwaizumi, firmly pulling him back inside. Iwaizumi looked down at Oikawa in shock and confusion; Oikawa's eyes were open but bright with unshed tears.

"Please stay. Please don't leave," he begged in a whisper, voice tortured.

Iwaizumi tenderly stroked Oikawa's face with his hands, trying to erase all traces of tears. He'd never been able to handle Oikawa's tears. "I won't. I promise. So tell me what's going on," he requested gently.

Oikawa scrunched his eyes up again as a silent sob heaved his chest and another set of tears ran down his face.

"Tooru…" Iwaizumi breathed, deeply concerned as he desperately tried to clear the tears away again.

Oikawa brought his hands up to his face, brushed Iwaizumi's aside and pressed his palms against his eyes. "Damn it…I promised myself I wouldn't do this…"

"Do what?" Iwaizumi inquired gently, running his fingers through Oikawa's hair.

"I told myself I'd do this tomorrow, talk tomorrow, break down tomorrow," Oikawa rambled, more to himself than Iwaizumi. "I just want tonight, that's all, just one more night to pretend this isn't happening."

Icy cold dread seeped its way into Iwaizumi's chest and filled up the pit in his stomach. "Oikawa," his voice was low and urgent now. "What's happening?" A demand this time. He needed to know now.

Oikawa inhaled a shaky breath, took his hands away from his eyes, and met Iwaizumi's unflinchingly. "I'm engaged to be married," he said tonelessly, lifelessly. Iwaizumi forgot how to inhale. "The engagement will be announced at my birthday celebrations next week. The wedding will happen in a month."

Breathe. Just breathe, Iwaizumi. "I…I don't…" I don't understand. How could this happen? I was meant to have more warning, more time.

Oikawa looked off to the side, breaking eye contact, giving Iwaizumi a much-needed respite to ensure he didn't have a breakdown too. Later. Do that later.

"It's to the daughter of Karasuno's previous king, Princess Shimizu Kiyoko. It's a non-negotiable part of our peace treaty. I've been trying for weeks to persuade them otherwise, but Ambassador Tsukishima insisted it was by orders of King Kageyama." Oikawa relayed all this information bluntly, as though describing the weather.

Iwaizumi used the time to collect himself, so when Oikawa met his eyes again he was confident they weren't giving away the panic currently constricting his chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Iwaizumi. It's just…I just…" Tears welled up in Oikawa's eyes as his voice failed him.

Iwaizumi used his knuckles to gently brush them away, desperately hoping Oikawa didn't notice how they were trembling. "You just didn't think I needed to know unless it was made official. I know. It's okay."

Apparently, those were exactly the wrong words to say because Oikawa promptly abandoned his failing attempt at calm and starting crying for real this time, sobbing and hitting his fists against Iwaizumi's chest.

"H-how can you say it's okay? How is this okay?" he cried.

Iwaizumi captured Oikawa's fists in his hands and held them down beside his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I know." God, how he ever knew. He couldn't fathom a future in which anything would be okay.

Please, God, don't let me lose him. Don't take him away from me like this!

Oikawa drew in deep breaths, attempting to calm down. "I don't want to do this, Iwaizumi! I don't!" Oikawa's eyes begged Iwaizumi to understand, to believe him, as though Iwaizumi didn't already know.

Perhaps Oikawa just needed to hear it, so Iwaizumi said it again, "I know."

Oikawa closed his eyes again and inhaled shaky breath after shaky breath. "I don't…I don't want her. I want…I want…" he opened his eyes and for once Iwaizumi wished he couldn't read them so well. You. I want you.

Iwaizumi couldn't let Oikawa say it for real, he couldn't. It would destroy him. So he crashed his lips against Oikawa's, silencing him, consoling him. "I know," he whispered once they finally parted.

He didn't need to say that it didn't matter what Oikawa wanted – what either of them wanted. They both knew already.


A/N

Okay SO. This fic. I saw a picture of Iwaizumi sort-of in knight's armour on Tumblr (I'll try to find the link again and post it on here) and the idea for this fic was born in all of 2.5 seconds. I know exactly where I want this story to go, exactly how it ends and how it gets there, but I feel I must give all potential readers fair warning.

I'm not known for finishing fics (I'm not known at all, really, but if I was known it wouldn't be for finishing my fics). This is going to be a monster of a fic. I'm talking multiple LONG chapters like this one. Perhaps not quite as long as this one, seeing as this one is half back-story, but still. Long. It's not going to be an easy ride either (note all the 'Angst' tags up top). So, feel free to jump off this depressing ride now if you so choose! I won't hold it against you, promise. Technically one could consider this a oneshot if one so chose (albeit a VERY depressing oneshot, but whatever).

However, if you choose to stick with me on this it's more likely I'll keep updating! I'm a full-time university student so whatever writing I do will have to fit around my schedule. I am feeling REALLY into this story at the moment and IwaOi is my Ultimate OTP, so it's looking good for this fic right now. My levels of Haikyuu! obsession know no bounds. I fear it's an incurably sickness at this point. Don't really care. So for those who do continue with me, a few words.

This is a Medieval/Fantasy AU. I'm pretty shit at intricate plots and world-building so don't expect much of either of those things. World-building will be loose, I'll only describe enough to make sure everything makes sense. The plot is entirely based around Iwaizumi and Oikawa's relationship, not around wars and battles and such. Don't care. I HAVE tried to limit my use of modern-day slang, but I'd just get to points where trying to think of correct terminology just fucked up my flow so I just wrote how I usually would. Sorry (sort of - it's not like I'm a professional writer or anything). This story is all about the FEELs. Just feels, all over the place. Everywhere. So if you like feels, you're in the right place!

That's all for now. Hope to see you next time!