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Oikawa loves his boyfriend.
That’s what he’s thinking as he watches Suga run his fingers through Astral’s fur and turn the next page of the book he’s reading. His head is bowed, eyes on the novel. He has his legs curled up into the armchair.
And he’s borrowed Oikawa’s reading glasses because somehow — and Oikawa likes to joke that it must be the close proximity — his eyesight is nearly as bad as Oikawa’s is now.
God, he looks cute.
He really does. Oikawa is far past being embarrassed by how smitten he is on a daily basis. He can’t deny that Suga is extra adorable wearing those glasses.
They sit on the bridge of his nose, sliding down occasionally so that the other man has to use his index finger to push them back up. Paired with an oversized t-shirt of Oikawa’s that Suga has decided to steal for the night and shorts, Oikawa is content to just sit here and stare.
Suga reminds him of things he can’t describe in this moment — sweet voices, handwritten notes, bright eyes, coffee and tousled hair and lace-up boots. Thunderstorms and ticket stubs.
That’s so cheesy, he can’t help but think but he doesn’t really care.
Oikawa loves nights like these. He loves sitting here in their small living room with soft music on in the background and the lights down low while they enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes in silence, like tonight, or loudly — laughing and talking, watching something on tv curled up together on the couch.
The only thing that would make it better right now would be if Suga — in his borrowed glasses and oversized t-shirt — were close enough to reach for.
Oikawa wants to run his fingers through Suga’s hair. He wants to drop kisses all over the pretty curve of his neck and watch Suga’s eyes darken from honey to copper.
Deciding that his boyfriend probably won’t mind being interrupted from his reading, Oikawa gets up and stretches. He walks across the small living space.
Suga’s eyes flick up to look at him. Astral’s do too, his emerald gaze cracking open to rest heavy on Oikawa’s face.
He’s going to hate me for this, Oikawa thinks, eyeing their adopted cat warily.
"Hey," Suga says, smiling. Oikawa licks his lips. Suga’s eyes behind those glasses are highlighted in their intensity. Honey-gold framed by thick, black lashes.
Yeah, Suga won’t mind being interrupted from his reading. Oikawa’s fingers itch to feel warm skin.
There’s only one thing standing in the way…
"Hi," Oikawa answers, smiling winningly at Astral. Astral’s eyes narrow.
Suga’s gaze flits from Oikawa to the cat and back again. His smile grows. "Oh boy," he murmurs, bookmarking his page and setting the book on a side table. "Did I just get sucked into the middle of something?" His fingers continue to stroke through Astral’s pretty black fur, paler in comparison.
They remind Oikawa briefly of the white crests at the tops of dark waves in the ocean and he remembers the picnic they had taken out there last week, when the weather had been cool enough to enjoy the sea-salt spray.
He remembers laying out the blanket in the shade of a small, private cove he’s sure only they know about. He remembers Suga stretching out on it, eyes closed contentedly, freckles just barely visible along the arch of his nose, the curves of his cheekbones. He remembers kissing sun-warmed skin and tasting salt and crawling over Suga on that blanket until they were just a tangle of limbs and hot, wet kisses and muffled gasps of pleasure.
Flushing hot at the memory of Suga’s lovely, long legs wrapped around his waist, Oikawa blinks and quells the memory.
"Why would you think that, Suga-chan? I just came over to see my two favorite boys," he answers, trying again to charm Astral with a loving glance. The cat’s ears flatten. Oikawa pouts.
"I think Astral can smell lies," Suga teases, crossing his arms over his chest and peering up at Oikawa with a sly grin. "He knows he’s about to lose his warm, comfy seat in my lap. Even I know what you want."
Oikawa’s pout grows. "So? He can always go commandeer our bed. He does it all the time anyway."
Suga laughs at that, eyes wandering over Oikawa’s childish expression. "You’re such a big baby," he coos and God, if Oikawa could have his way right now, he’d kiss him quiet.
"And you’re a tease," he shoots back, reaching out to trace his fingertips through Suga’s bangs, pushing them back from his face. Suga smirks.
"How so?" he inquires sweetly. The air conditioning hums in the corner, mixing with the drone of their fridge in the kitchen and the more distant sounds of the city not so far away.
Oikawa’s lips quirk up at Suga’s obvious bait. His boyfriend’s hair is so soft, like silk, between his fingers.
"Mm, I don’t know, Suga-chan. Why don’t you tell me?"
Astral growls low in his throat then, breaking the banter. Both of their eyes drop to him apologetically but Astral has obviously already had enough of his owners interrupting his nap and he gets up, stretching indignantly.
"Ouch," Suga hisses, probably because Astral is digging his tiny paws into his thigh with his claws outstretched — but the cat merely gives them one more disdainful sniff and then jumps down, stalking with his tail held high towards their bedroom door.
"Wow," Oikawa says flatly once the spiteful presence has eased from the room, melting into the shadows. What a spoiled little prince.
"That was your fault, I hope you know," Suga is complaining when he turns back around. "I bet I have two paw-shaped bruises there now."
"Aww," Oikawa coos, stroking down from Suga’s hair to his cheek and using his other hand to pull Suga up from the armchair. Suga rolls his eyes at him, but he’s grinning now too and he lets Oikawa draw him off of the chair to stand in front of him.
"I’ll make it up to you," Oikawa says. Suga hums. Oikawa’s fingers slide up to thread into the hair at the back of Suga’s head, tipping his face up.
"How so?" Suga murmurs, echoing his words from earlier. Oikawa’s glasses slip a little down his nose and Oikawa imagines Suga’s pupils blown wide behind them, watching him. His stomach twists with heat.
"Why don’t you tell me, Suga-chan?" Oikawa teases, and he makes his voice go low and sultry the way he knows Suga can’t ever resist reacting to.
On cue, Suga’s eyes flicker from Oikawa’s gaze down to his mouth and back again. He licks his lips. Oikawa’s grin deepens.
"Well," Suga says quietly, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s waist, "for starters you could shut up and kiss me, you know."
"Kiss you? Where? Here?" Oikawa asks. He’s in the mood to tease now, draw this out as long as possible. Now that he has Suga here, pressed up against him, he wants to take it slow and enjoy every bit of it.
He ducks his head, runs his lips over the shell of Suga’s ear, breath hot. Suga shivers against him but his eyebrows are furrowed when Oikawa pulls back.
"No," he starts, but Oikawa isn’t finished.
"Here, then?" he asks quietly, laying an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Suga’s jaw. "Or here." Another kiss, lingering, to the corner of his mouth, just close enough for Suga to try to turn into it. He moves away before his boyfriend can kiss him fully.
"Tooru," Suga half-whines, knocking his forehead against Oikawa’s chest, butting into him.
"Mmhm?" he asks, keeping his voice nonchalant even though his body betrays how much he wants to keep touching Suga. He slides his hands down Suga’s back, wrinkling his t-shirt, feeling out the ridges and knobs of Suga’s spine, the curve of his hips.
"And you said I’m the tease," Suga groans. Oikawa jerks a little when his boyfriend bites unexpectedly at his shoulder through his t-shirt, light and quick, just the barest imprint of teeth.
"You are though," Oikawa argues. He begins to step backwards, dragging Suga with him, edging his fingers up under the baggy shirt to stroke soft, hot skin at the top of Suga’s sleep shorts. Suga follows easily, crawls into Oikawa’s lap when he sits down on their couch.
"Stealing my shirts, lounging around in my glasses," Oikawa continues, palming Suga’s sides, relishing in the squeeze of Suga’s thighs around his hips. Suga looks down at him now, eyes bright behind the black-rimmed glasses and Oikawa’s pulse is a nice, quick hum under his skin.
"Oh?" Suga asks innocently. He runs his hands through Oikawa’s hair. "You like these on me?"
Oikawa sticks his tongue out. He flushes, pushes up into Suga’s touch. "Yeah, yeah. As if you didn’t already know that."
Suga lets go of him to readjust the glasses on his face. His eyes are the epitome of wicked underneath them and Oikawa’s heartbeat skips a little. Maybe he’s asking for trouble a little too late tonight.
"I know you’d been staring at me for a good fifteen minutes before you came over," his boyfriend answers coyly. "Took you longer than I expected."
"You little -," Oikawa half-growls, disregarding his previous thought, but Suga chooses that moment exactly to shut him up in the best way possible.
Oikawa feels the kiss in his bones. Their lips finally meet fully and Suga kisses him harder than he’d been expecting but God, Oikawa isn’t complaining.
He grips Suga’s hips under the shirt, tugging him until they’re flush against each other and Suga is breathing into his mouth, lips curved up into a smile that burns against Oikawa’s lips.
He’s so soft, so hot, under Oikawa’s fingertips. So familiar.
Everything about Suga feels like home.
His lips are a constant, always pressed just like this to Oikawa’s. Searching and seeking, moving in a rhythm. Oikawa kisses back slow and languid, lets Suga control the pace, following his boyfriend’s actions.
Suga doesn’t waste any time. He sucks at Oikawa’s lower lip, a sensation that has butterflies cartwheeling through the pit of Oikawa’s stomach — that makes him feel like he just went over a sharp dip on a rollercoaster.
Oikawa groans and Suga swallows it, nipping at him gently then returning to kissing, his thumbs under Oikawa’s jaw to keep his head turned up towards his. His thighs tighten around Oikawa’s waist.
And when Oikawa digs his fingers into Suga’s waist to keep him steady — to drag him down against him — Suga complies, grinding down lightly.
The heat in the pit of Oikawa’s stomach flares. Suga does it again, mouth busy against Oikawa’s, parting to breathe and coming back together quickly.
Oikawa loses himself in it. He loves having Suga like this, in his lap. It’s so easy to reach his neck like this, to suck marks into his collarbones, but for right now he keeps their lips together. He keeps his hands there at the waistband of Suga’s shorts.
And he focuses just on this. On the breaths that pass between them. On Suga working his mouth open with his own, shifting closer to kiss him harder, deeper. And when Suga slips his tongue out to trace the inside of Oikawa’s mouth his brain goes hazy, like static on the tv.
God, he feels so good against him. His tongue in his mouth feels so good and Oikawa sucks on it, getting that noise he loves to slip from Suga’s throat. It’s a little whine, a little moan. It’s perfect and it sets Oikawa’s blood on fire, hearing that little, perfect whimper drop from Suga’s pretty lips.
"Kou," he breathes when Suga pulls back, teasing, the hot, wet heat of his mouth gone too soon. Opening his eyes, Oikawa stares up at him, licking his lips. His skin is flushed, he can feel it, but so is Suga’s.
He’s flushed a beautiful rose and it clashes so perfectly with the black of Oikawa’s borrowed shirt, with the silver of his hair. It stains the skin under his eyes, under the glasses. His pupils are blown just like Oikawa had imagined.
Suga runs a hand over Oikawa’s cheek and Oikawa turns into it, kissing his palm gently. He inhales the scent of Suga’s skin — sandalwood soap and their laundry detergent.
"Why’d you stop?" he can’t help but ask, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He strokes Suga’s back with his hands, sliding his palms up and down his smooth skin, smiling when Suga shivers.
"Just wanted to hold out on you a bit longer," Suga answers, like Oikawa had known he would. His eyes crinkle with his smile, that splash of a beauty mark that Oikawa loves so much disappearing. "Make you wait for it."
"Mm, oh really?" Oikawa plays along. He runs his hands around to Suga’s stomach, slides them down towards his legs, gripping his bare thighs. "In that case…"
Without warning, Oikawa shifts and he has Suga on his back along the couch before his boyfriend can protest.
Suga stares up at him, the smile wiped clear off of his face. He’s breathless but when it starts to curve his lips back up, returning, Oikawa kisses him again, coming home.
I love you, he thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He’ll have time for that later.
Later, after he finishes choosing a ring at that shop a few streets over. Later, for as long as he can imagine.
Later… but for right now, all Oikawa is focused on is right in front of him.