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Tsukishima remembers the first time they kissed. It was underneath the same moon, on the same roof, nearly two whole years ago.
It was warm then, a hot summer only intensified by the tension that had clung to them like a wet rag. The nights were cooler, but still warmer than they should have been.
There, on Tsukishima’s roof, they’d shared an intense yet somehow gentle first kiss. Kageyama had quickly become addicted to his nicotine-stained lips and the way his piercings moved as they slid their tongues together.
Now is no different, except their somewhat hesitant kisses have turned into makeout sessions that last what feels like hours, and might as well be.
They clamber up to the roof when they know the rest of Japan is sleeping, only confident in their escapades when there’s no one else to see them. Maybe, when Kageyama’s professional volleyball career is over, they’ll have the guts to do this when the salarymen are walking home.
“Come here,” Tsukishima mumbles, placing his glasses down next to him. Kageyama obliges, sliding into Tsukishima’s lap like it’s the only place he’s meant to be. Tsukishima grabs a cigarette from the packet.
“Open.”
Kageyama lets his bottom lip fall open. Tsukishima places the cigarette into his mouth. They both know that the words
good boy
goes unsaid. Grabbing the lighter, Tsukishima watches as Kageyama’s dilated pupils focus on the flame that lights the cigarette, that creepy concentration completely drawn to the way it flickers in the light.
Tsukishima puts the lighter down and pulls the cigarette from Kageyama’s lips, putting it in his own. He takes a drag, doesn’t miss the way Kageyama still has his mouth open, obedient.
Tsukishima presses their lips together and breathes out, letting the smoke pass between them. Kageyama doesn’t even flinch anymore, unlike he used to. Back when they were only just getting into this routine, he’d cough and splutter and generally be a nuisance. Now? In a way the king was only there to serve.
Kageyama looks beautiful like this, he thinks, mouth propped open with a thumb on his bottom lip and eyes barely focused. It’s something about the soft moonlight, the way the blue-white colour gets swallowed whole by his deep blue eyes and his pitch-black hair, that makes Tsukishima love him a little more.
Not to say he hadn’t loved Kageyama for a long time.
Their first training camp was when it all began. After a long day of training, Tsukishima had desperately needed a smoke. He had found himself a spot behind one of the gyms, the only light the moon, seemingly cowering in the face of being known much the same as him. Tsukishima pulled a cigarette from the box in his jacket pocket and lit it, allowing himself a smile as the tendrils of smoke clambered out of his nose and into the sky. But all good things come to an end.
Kageyama had stumbled upon him when looking for an enamel pin, eyes widening in shock as his tiny brain made the connection.
“What are you looking at,
king
?” Tsukishima had spat.
“N-Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring?”
Kageyama fell silent and looked away, “you know those aren’t good for you, right?”
“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot.”
Kageyama had walked up to him and placed a hand on Tsukishima’s cheek, the first form of kindness he’d ever offered the taller boy.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he had mumbled, barely audible above the chirping of the crickets.
After that, Kageyama Tobio had become the rock that kept him stable.
“Kei,” Kageyama whines, blissed out from the smoke.
“Mhm?”
“Kiss me, please.”
How could Tsukishima say no?
He takes a final drag of his now finished cigarette before tugging Kageyama’s jaw open even more and sticking his pierced tongue in, smirking as Kageyama gets to work worshipping it. Kageyama’s tongue presses the piercing up before licking around the top, making out the shape of a crown that Tsukishima’s been sporting all week.
Tsukishima gives a content hum, wedging the tip of Kageyama’s tongue gently between his own and his bottom lip, pleasantly surprised as Kageyama lets out a barely understandable groan of his name.
Kageyama’s hips slowly rock against his own, only adding fuel to the flames. Oh, how lucky he is.
Kageyama starts to get a little cocky, attempting to take control, but a firm bite to his top lip has him once again opening that pretty mouth. Tsukishima’s trained him well. Slowly but surely, he trained Kageyama to be submissive with his cues. Biting his lip meant the same as ‘open’, trapping Kageyama’s tongue meant ‘you’re doing good’. He knew that Kageyama understood that he was being trained, though he also knew that Kageyama was too far gone to care.
One of his hands, previously settled in the back of Kageyama’s teasingly short shorts, drags up his back to grab his hair and tugs .
Kageyama obeys, tilting his head back until all he can see is the moon. Tsukishima rewards him with harsh kisses down his neck, coming to rest on his prominent collarbone. The first bite is gentle - it’ll be forgotten by morning, by them and the moon.
When Kageyama only gives a whine in response, Tsukishima lays claim on the moon-blessed skin in front of his, his for the taking. He bites, hard. His teeth dig in, but don’t draw blood. As he drags his mouth shut, the pleased whimpers coming from the boy above him tell him he’s done a good job.
He pulls away, giving himself a second to admire the wreck of a boy he has the honour to call his own. Kageyama has way more hickeys than Tsukishima thought he would, but some possessive part of him loves them.
“You did good, Tobi,” Tsukishima whispers, purposefully skipping the o. It’s their tradition, finding their favourite syllables in the other’s name and holding them close.
Kageyama smiles at him, warm.
“I love you, Kishi.”
Tsukishima hums, looking back towards the moon and thanking it for the light.
“I love you too.”
If Kageyama whacks him over the head the next morning for leaving so many visible hickeys, he’ll pretend not to remember it.
Besides, all of their important moments happen in the moonlight.