Chapter Text
Oikawa feels a chill run down his spine as Tobio takes his fingers into his mouth. Those pretty blue eyes aren't on his face anymore, but angled down towards his wrist, watching the slight tremor of the veins across the top of his hand. Tobio's mouth is warm, wet with saliva as he presses his tongue between Oikawa's middle and pointer fingers. They are long and Tobio has taken them in deep, far enough that his tongue teases the sensitive arch between them at the tip and Oikawa can feel the hard curve at the entrance to Tobio's throat behind his teeth. Oikawa feels the constriction in Tobio's throat as he gags, lowering his tongue and closing his lips over the fingers to suck them in spite of it.
There's something that catches in Oikawa's abdomen watching Tobio like this. His lips shining under the harsh flourescent shower lights, spit spilling over onto his chin like he doesn't know how to stay neat, like he's too focused to care. His eyebrows are drawn in close and he sucks again on Oikawa's fingers, hard, his throat relaxed now and Oikawa can feel the rough back of his tongue. His cheeks pink at the gagged sound of it, and his hands on Oikawa's arm tighten. A shaky whine, barely audible against the buzz of the lights, slips out with his breath.
Oikawa's gut clenches. Tobio's mouth on his fingers is amazing, and the way his tongue presses against them when he sucks, and how rough it is--Oikawa can't help but imagine how that warm mouth would feel wrapped around other parts of his body. His free hand moves to cover his own mouth, not willing to let out a quiet moan when Tobio pulls off then licks up his fingers once before grazing his teeth over the side of Oikawa's finger. He closes them gentle by the nail and Oikawa shivers.
"Tobio, what are you--" Oikawa is interrupted by his own gasp. Tobio's bit into the fold around his nail, not deep enough to feel like much, but startling. "What are you doing?"
Without answering, Tobio continues to nibble at the fold until Oikawa gasps again, this time because he's bit deep and close to the cuticle. He holds the edge left between his teeth, careful not to bite through it, and moves one hand to hold Oikawa's finger in place.
Even having braced himself, Oikawa can't help a cry when Tobio jerks his head and pulls Oikawa's hand down, ripping off the skin around his cuticle. He squirms back against the tile wall of the shower and closes fingers not held by Tobio in a tight fist. The hand that had slipped from his mouth covers it again, muffling his hard breaths. He watches as Tobio closes his eyes, tasting the skin in his mouth. A stinging pain spreads through Oikawa's hand and arm, still held in place by Tobio despite jolting at the pain.
Something on Tobio's face looks so blissful as he savors the first bite. It's only a prelude, but already he's waited so long for the chance to take his senior in like this. The skin is thin and near tasteless, but this it's a safe place to start. He swallows and opens his eyes, wide enough his lashes are pressing against his lowered brow, looks at Oikawa as he brings his hand back down and presses his lips above the torn cuticle. Blood has begun to well in the open space and there is something about the warmth of Tobio's lips that's almost comforting.
Or, maybe it's the grip that Tobio has on him, tight enough to hold him still, strong from competition, stronger than Oikawa had realized. He could probably still fight him. Wait, until Tobio is about to bite again and surprise him, push him away, run home, away from the locker room and these freezing shower tiles--
But when Tobio does bite down Oikawa does nothing but shiver. A part of him rationalizes this. It's shock. I'm not moving because I'm in shock... and yet as he watches his rival bite down to the bone on the third try, another part of him chimes in. I'm letting him do this.
He whines again, high in his throat this time, shifts back against the wall. Tobio smiles.
While he's known the older for years now, long enough to know him inside and out (very soon, literally) he honestly didn't think Oikawa would be so compliant for him. A giddy feeling rises as he licks the torn edges of attenuated tendon. Callouses and knuckles will only satisfy so much of his hunger. Oikawa has so much more left to give him.
"Stay still," is the only warning Oikawa gets before Tobio pulls up his arm and bites down into his forearm. The muscle is tough, only a slight layer of leftover fat beneath the thick skin. Tobio pulls, and Oikawa squirms, trembling whimpers falling out of his mouth as his free hand hovers in the air. His fist is clenched tight, a shaking threat he knows won't follow through. Tobio pulls harder, separating the meat and bone before he slows and lets go of one grip on Oikawa's arm. With his newly freed hand he digs into the open wound and rips it wide.
Oikawa can't hold back a scream this time. He's never felt anything like Tobio's fingernails cutting into his flesh. He's never seen so much of his own blood, and not dripping down Tobio's lips and arm. The shower that seemed so cold before is warm, his back slick with sweat as he pushes against the tiles. What once was so sterile is humid and the smell of his body is choking him. Tobio takes the smallest bite of muscle and Oikawa moans.
This is what he's waited for. The sweet copper that melts against his tongue and fills his stomach. It's richer than he'd expected, and he knows that he won't be able to finish his whole meal. He savors every bite as he cleans between Oikawa's skin and bone, sucking for blood to help wash his food down, swallowing loud.
In spite of the blood that now covers Tobio's throat, bliss is still apparent in his face, and in the way he pants between his bites, face warm and flushed. It makes Oikawa dizzy, watching him. He's stopped shaking and the hand that was held in the air now scratches at the tile beneath him, the pain is doing something not undesirable to him--but it could be the blood loss talking.
The face Tobio makes when he's focused like this has always had some effect on him, though. It's something he noticed early on, the rigid line that sets in the younger's jaw, the tight knit in his brows, the eyes that sometimes flick up asking for approval. There's little Oikawa loves more than holding back just to watch Tobio push even harder. The desperate strain of his shoulders, the way he can't quite keep still when Oikawa is looking at him, it's flattering. Oikawa didn't think letting Tobio get a taste would be so satisfying.
Once the side of his forearm is left bare, Tobio lets go of it completely and shuffles forward. Oikawa swallows. The blood on his lips only makes his eyes that much more intense as he gives Oikawa the same questioning look as always, shoulder twitching with the onset of anxiety.
Tobio opens his mouth, closes it, scrunches his face for a second, then pulls off his plain shirt to wrap around Oikawa's arm. "You should keep pressure on that."
Oikawa almost wants to laugh, probably would if he weren't so focused on the feeling of his nails against his palm, trying to ignore his entire left arm. Instead he bites his lip and pulls his arm against his chest, trying to keep pressure on it like Tobio said.
"How thoughtful," he manages, and closes his eyes. He needs to move. Get up and go to the hospital, preferably, but he feels weak. He tries to push up against the wall and finds he's far too disoriented, slumps back down instead and leans forward over his arm. He doesn't fight Tobio's hands in his hair.
Tobio's thumbs rub his temple so gently, Oikawa can't connect them to the same hands that just held him down and pulled his skin apart, even though he can feel the wet of his own blood. Slow and deliberate, Tobio angles Oikawa's head back to look at him. Something in the hold is comforting, and delirious as he may be by now he feels almost safe. With his eyes still shut he misses Tobio leaning forward and pressing the ghost of a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He turns his head and, God, he shouldn't be as interested as he is in the warmth that earlier grazed his fingers now on his mouth, and he certainly shouldn't shiver at the taste on Tobio's tongue when it slides against his. He tastes sweet and rich and raw, and the low sound in the back of his throat comes as genuine as the cries of pain did.
The firm hold around his head is grounding, but he can still feel himself fading and his blood has soaked through Tobio's shirt. He stills, trying to get a hold of himself, and Tobio pulls back, kisses his jaw, his neck, then up against the center of Oikawa's forehead.
"I'll take care of you," is the last thing Oikawa hears before Tobio pulls his head against his chest. He lets himself relax there and sighs, trusting against the objective part of himself that Tobio is telling the truth.