Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oikawa Tooru stops in his search for an escape when the wall in front of him illuminates as a huge screen. They all stop actually.

Oikawa is thankful that Iwaizumi stops. Him throwing his shoulder into the wall is doing nothing about their predicament other than to spread bruises over his skin. Ushijima had also been hitting at the wall, but Oikawa could care less about any of his injuries.

Kageyama had taken the route of non-compliance, shell shocked from the kidnapping and simply remaining crouched on the floor unmoving.

He is younger than them, Oikawa has to remind himself, and their situation is absolutely terrifying.

He’s not sure how it happened. One moment he and Iwaizumi were leaving the stands after watching the Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa match, the next they had accidentally bumped into Oikawa’s two mortal enemies, and then suddenly the world had gotten very very dark.

They were all in a room now. Nondescript white tile floor, tall white walls with no markings. They couldn’t even find the outline of a door let alone any kind of escape path.

And then one wall had become a screen.

In big bold letters, it reads:

Room 1:

The choice is yours, pick one to be fucked, and fucked, and fucked again.

Then the door will be revealed.

All four men in the room bristle.

“How crude,” Oikawa huffs to cover up the way his skin begins to prickles His eyes glance around to catch the others’ reactions. Ushijima is as stone faced as ever, Iwaizumi looks righteously angry, and Kageyama…Kageyama looks terrified.

Oikawa looks away.

Iwaizumi is shouting at the screen, questions, obscenities, jeers—none of them useful in anyway. Ushijima has returned to fighting the wall. Kageyama still hasn’t moved.

Oikawa purses his lips, standing up to start gliding his hands along the giant screen, looking for some sort of button or gap between it and the wall. But it looks like it just is the wall.

He fears he has touched something, because there is a sudden screech and he jumps back. The screen glitches, and underneath the first command, a countdown appears.

It’s counting down from 4 hours.

Underneath that, in the same bold font, reads:

Fail Condition: Removal of Iwaizumi Hajime’s hand.

Iwaizumi stops shouting when he reads it. He brings his hands protectively toward his chest. Oikawa feels his heart build in its slow panic: how do they know Iwaizumi’s full name?

The countdown keeps falling.

“We will not allow them to take your hand,” Ushijima says, with a certainty he can not possibly back up. Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Kageyama is shaking.

Oikawa grits his teeth and then starts unbuttoning his jeans.

All three pairs of eyes turn to him at the sound.

“What the hell are you doing?” Iwaizumi shouts.

“Well, in light of the information—or lack there of, and your hand on the line. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says again, color flooding his face as Oikawa’s jeans drop to the floor. He’s still has his boxers on at least. “This is insane.”

“Yep,” Oikawa replies, hoping the nonchalant answers will cover for how much his body is shaking. He throws his dark blue peacoat off to the side. “The directions are clear. Someone needs to get a dick up their ass three times, and I at least, have experience in that department.”

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi strangles.

Ushijima and Kageyama are both staring at him, similar wide eyed expressions on their stern faces.

“Look,” Oikawa grouses, “We’ve been kidnapped. But this isn’t some juvenile operation, this is a high tech scheme, full of money backing its perversity, and they know our full names. Who knows what other information they have at their disposal. I don’t think we have any cards to play with, and I am not letting them take your hand when the alternative is just to have you fuck me three times, which is a good Saturday evening normally.”

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi screeches, covering his face.

Ushijima is staring at them.

Kageyama is a red tomato, hands doing a poor job of covering his mortified face.

Oikawa is red too, but he’s pretending like he isn’t. “Look, I’m sure Kageyama and Ushiwaka can find the decency to look away if its their lives on the line too.” He flashes the two a fierce look and Kageyama quickly wrenches his whole body around to face the wall. Ushijima seems to hesitate, his whole mind slow to process the rapid fire information he is receiving. Finally, he turns around in a stilted fashion.

“This is crazy,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“I agree,” Oikawa continues, leaning against the wall. His elbow hits something, a loose tile, and from it tips out a bottle of lube. Unscented. He bristles, looking around. He tries to find the loose tile again but its lost to the wall.

Iwaizumi picks up the bottle from where it has rolled to his feet.

“How considerate,” Oikawa murmurs. From his vantage point against the wall he can see the whole expanse of the large room. Can see both Kageyama and Ushijima pointedly looking away. It makes his stomach churn.

He turns around, bracing his forearms against the wall and letting his ass jut out. This is easier. It’s easier to pretend it’s just him and Iwaizumi if they’re like this.

“Hurry up,” Oikawa huffs, “We haven’t got all day.”

Even though he says that, he still feels his heart leap into his throat in surprise when he feels Iwaizumi’s hands on his hips. They’re warm, but unsure, so unlike their normal fun escapades.

This isn’t fun.

“We don’t have to do this,” Iwaizumi continues.

“Yes, we do,” Oikawa snaps, getting frustrated. Every protestation just drags this whole nightmare out longer. He juts his ass out further, rubbing it against Iwaizumi’s groin—which is soft. Figures, upstanding perfect Iwaizumi Hajime would have a hard time getting it up under these circumstances.

Iwaizumi pulls back slightly, and Oikawa is about to shout at him again until he feels him peel back his boxers. It’s cold in the room against his skin, and he shudders.

He hears the pop of the lube bottle, and soon he can feel Iwaizumi’s warm fingers prodding at his entrance, circling the puckered edges tentatively. As they enter him, Oikawa lets out a breath he did not realize he was holding, head dropping against the tile. He spreads out his legs, helping to accommodate as Iwaizumi works him loose.

He brings a hand up to bite against his palm, stifling the noises threatening to escape him. He’s trying not to think about Kageyama and Ushijima in the room.

“Just, just fuck me already,” Oikawa hisses.

Iwaizumi pauses, and Oikawa can tell he’s stiffened slightly against him, but not nearly enough to be ready for this. Oikawa’s own dick is only at halfmast, forced to come to life because of Iwaizumi’s fingers, but not sold on the idea of being forced into any of this—he has no room to yell at Iwaizumi for his lack of desire.

Iwaizumi removes his fingers to rub himself, hunching his shoulders forward to try to bring himself to attention. His breathing grows more labored, his forehead leaning against Oikawa’s shoulder, and that alone is able to stir desire in Oikawa’s gut.

Finally, he feels Iwaizumi’s cock press against his entrance, and he pushes back impatiently, swallowing him whole with a cry he forgets to stifle. Iwaizumi growls in his ear, like he also doesn’t want Oikawa to speak, doesn’t want the others’ to hear him, when only Iwaizumi should have the pleasure.

The thought makes Oikawa’s knees weaken, and he melts closer to the wall, breathing heavier with every new thrust Iwaizumi drives into him. Iwaizumi’s hand comes to cover Oikawa’s mouth, forcing his head slightly back. He closes his eyes, embarrassing sounds muffled by Iwaizumi’s fingers as he’s fucked hard into the wall.

It’s clear Iwaizumi is trying to finish quickly. He’s fucking hard and fast, with little care of Oikawa’s comfort at the moment. OIkawa appreciates it, the last thing he wants his two rivals to see, is an intimate and sweet moment between him and Iwaizumi. Clinical, in this moment, is infinitely better.

He squeezes around Iwaizumi, trying to milk the cum out of him as best he can, and finally he can feel the shorter man tense up behind him. The hand around his mouth clenches tighter, and it aches Oikawa’s jaw in the best kind of way. Hot cum floods inside him, and he groans, loudly at the foreign feeling. They’ve only ever fucked with condoms on before this.

Iwaizumi removes his hand, slipping out of him wetly. 

Oikawa’s knees give, and he slides to the floor heaving. He’s hard now, precum leaking obscenely from his tip. He blinks tears from his eyes and shudders at the feeling of Iwaizumi’s cum slipping down his thighs.

They hear a ding, and all four look up at the screen to see one of the fucks has been crossed out from the statement.

“Good,” Oikawa heaves, wiping at his face and refusing to look over at Kageyama and Ushijima. He trusts they aren’t looking at him. He can’t bear to acknowledge the alternative. Ignorance is bliss. “Just two more times. Come on, Iwa-chan.”

“Give me a sec,” Iwaizumi groans, his sweaty head leaning against the tiles, “I have to, I have to wait a minute.”

Oikawa bites his lip because it’s only natural. But he is impatient. He wants nothing more than to end this humiliation. Get his clothes back on and be free to go home. But he can’t speed up Iwaizumi’s body.

Or can he?

He crawls up to Iwaizumi, where he is catching his breath against the wall, grabbing his soft dick in his hands. Iwaizumi lets out a surprised shout, sensitive as he is, and glares down at him.

Oikawa ignores him, starts to pump his fist against it, hoping to bring it back to life.

“Oikawa—”

Oikawa bends his neck down to lick him, and if they were anywhere else, he would have preened at the way such a simple action makes Iwaizumi’s tree trunk thighs quake. He feels the cock in his hands stir slightly, and that too emboldens him to swallow down the head.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses, and he sounds like he might start crying.

It’s cruel, what Oikawa is doing, but he is impatient, and Iwaizumi’s hand is on the line, and the clock is ticking aggressively downwards, and he can feel the judgement from the other two men in the room, so the faster they get this over with the better.

It takes a good deal of work on Oikawa’s part, hollowing his cheeks, sucking and licking to get Iwaizumi hard again. But once he feels the cock in his mouth has swelled enough, he releases him with a wet pop. Saliva connects him to Iwaizumi, and he feels disgusting. He pulls away, snapping the thread and having it hit his chin. He wipes it away quickly and tries not to think. If he thinks, the shame will become too much for him.

This time they are on the ground, facing each other, with Iwaizumi on top of him. Iwaizumi looks like he’s already going to burst, so Oikawa is excited for the round to be short—he’d never thought he’d think that. Iwaizumi slips into him easily, slicked up by Oikawa’s saliva and his already loose hole.

Oikawa groans, legs kicking out and arms groaping to take hold of Iwaizumi’s shoulders. His back arches with every thrust Iwaizumi gives him, and just as he predicted, it doesn’t take much for Iwaizumi to spill inside him, hot and dribbling and spent.

There is no ding this time.

Iwaizumi is laying against him, a heavy shaking weight. Oikawa cranes his neck to see the display has not changed. Two fucks still remain. A panic starts to build in him.

“Why didn’t it work?” he says. He knows why. He just doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want it to be true.

Iwaizumi summons the strength to look up, brows furrowing at the screen. Oikawa brings his hands to cover his own face. He’s still horribly hard, but the mere thought of what is being asked of him is enough for him to forget the pressure in his gut. He feels a sob rip from his throat.

Iwaizumi seems to understand too, at that moment, and in retaliation seems to tug Oikawa impossible closer, even with his dick still inside him.

“This is insane,” Iwaizumi growls, “You’re not doing this.”

“Your hand,” Oikawa insists.

“I don’t give a shit about my hand,” Iwaizumi snaps right back.

Oikawa still has his face covered, but he shakes his head. He takes in a deep breath, tries to compose himself. He sits up, slipping on the wet semen coating his thighs and ass, and he feels disgusting. Pathetic. Used. His shoulders quake and he tries to be strong,.“It’s fine,” he forces out.

“It’s not fine!” Iwaizumi insists.

Oikawa pushes him away because he can’t look at him much longer knowing what he’s going to have to do. He feels sick to his stomach when he forces himself to look at Ushijima and Kageyama who—bless them—have remained completely turned away.

Both thoughts make him want to vomit. But one seems slightly more palatable. Because at least Ushijima is as old as him and not…

Jesus Christ, Kageyama is just a child really!

“Ushiwaka, come here,” Oikawa orders, but his voice breaks and betrays him.

“Oikawa—” Iwaizumi insists.

Ushijima seems to hesitate. The tips of his ears are red. After a moment he finally stands, turning around to face them.

He flushes at the sight of them, and Oikawa wants nothing more than to hide in the dirt. But he stands—sits, really—his ground. Ushijima, for his part, keeps his eyes on Oikawa’s own, and doesn’t let them stray further down.

“If we want to get out,” Oikawa continues, trying not to hyperventilate, “You need to fuck me too.”

Ushijima stares at him.

Oikawa looks away. He instinctively tries to look at Iwaizumi, but Iwaizumi is busy glaring at the ground like he’s about to cry. Oikawa reaches for him and takes his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Iwaizumi growls back, and he is crying.

Oikawa looks away, but he grips their fingers tighter.

“I can’t,” Ushijima says.

“No time for chivalry,” Oikawa barks, deciding to get on all fours so he doesn’t have to look at Ushijima at all. He glares at the tile floor.

“No,” Ushijima continues, “I have never—”

“Great,” Oikawa interrupts, “Well, lucky for you it’s not rocket science.”

Ushijima makes some sort of strangled noise, and Oikawa normally would have loved making the tall man squirm. But not now. Not when he’s half naked and covered in cum and laying on the ground.

“Iwa-chan, help him.”

“What?” Iwaizumi shouts, nearing on hysterical.

Oikawa doesn’t want to look at him. He doesn’t want to look at anyone. So he stares defiantly up at the ceiling, bending his neck back to let gravity keep his tears inside. He spreads his legs wide, “Ushijima you need to fuck me before they cut Iwaizumi’s hand off, so fucking get to it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he hears the sound of fabric bunching. A zipper pulling. Oikawa shudders and keeps his burning gaze up high. His hands around nothing.

“Not dry!” Iwaizumi shouts, and Oikawa would have laughed if he wasn’t busy trying not to cry. He hears the bottle of lube opening again. He hears Ushijima let out a hiss.

Iwaizumi’s face comes into view, red and tear stained. Oikawa wants to kiss him. He also wants to cry into his shoulder. But if he does, Iwaizumi will shove Ushijma away and lose his hand.

He can’t let that happen.

So he smiles at him.

He feels pressure against his ass and sucks in a breath. Ushijima feels big, which is upsetting in more ways than one. His back arches and he groans, stretching around Ushijima’s girth despite being fucked twice already. Iwaizumi cards his fingers through his hair, and it’s so sweet that Oikawa can’t stand it. He shakes the touch away.

“Hurry up, Ushiwaka,” he grits out.

“Are you certain?” Ushijima mumbles back.

Oikawa’s body is shaking, but he ignores it. “The faster the better.”

Ushijima pulls back and slams right into him.

Oikawa howls, legs stuttering at his sides and his forehead smashing into the floor. Iwaizumi scrambles, maneuvering himself to cradle Oikawa’s head lest he crack it open. “Slow down!”

Ushijima stops with a groan and Oikawa squirms, tears flooding his mouth making his speech garbled, “No!” he says, and it sounds like a sob as he twists in Iwaizumi’s lap, “Just—Just get it over with!”

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi shouts back, “It’s hurting you.”

“I don’t care!” Oikawa screams and then he does sob, curling up as the force of his cries wrack through his shuddering body.

Ushijima has pulled out, murmuring apologies hurriedly. And it only makes Oikawa cry harder, because the last person he wants to see him like this is Ushijima. Iwaizumi has him in his arms, and Oikawa wants nothing more than to melt into him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, with Iwaizumi shielding him from the world as the sobs wrack his body, but it’s long enough for him to regain feeling in his numb arms.

Iwaizumi has wrapped Oikawa’s peacoat around him again, and Oikawa doesn’t even care that semen has probably coated the inside, dried and flaky now. He is grateful for the armor.

He pulls away and wipes at his eyes, trying to regain some pieces of his shattered dignity. Ushijima is still crouched there, hugging his sides tight and looking ashen. Oikawa has never seen Ushijima’s face contorted in such agony. If he were anywhere else, he would have found pleasure in it.

“I’m so sorry,” Ushijima says again.

Oikawa has never heard Ushijima apologize to him before, despite all the wrongs Ushijima has committed against him. But he doesn’t want this apology. “It’s fine. I told you to do it.”

Ushijima looks like he wants to argue, but there’s a blaring horn and they all look up to the screen.

There’s one hour remaining.

Oikawa’s fingers squeeze against the hem of his coat.

Iwaizumi stands up to return to his useless brutalization of the screen. It does not so much as glitch under his hand. The hand they’re going to cut off.

“We need to try again,” Oikawa says quietly.

“Absolutely not,” Iwaizumi snaps.

Oikawa glares at him, “They’re going to cut off your hand.”

“We don’t know shit,” Iwaizumi growls right back.

“They have money. Power. They’re gonna caught of your hand and send it back to Auntie for ransom!”

“I’m not letting you do this!” Iwaizumi snaps right back. “It’s my hand. I should be the one, the one getting, you know.”

“Fucked?” Oikawa says flatly, “It’s too late for that Iwa-chan. We made our decision. It has to be me.”

“This is insane,” Iwaizumi continues.

Oikawa stands up and he wobbles, legs weak and sore. Ushijima catches him instinctively. Oikawa hates that he doesn’t have the strength to pull away.

“We do it differently this time,” Oikawa continues, eyes catching on the screen. 55 mins. “I’ll sit on him. I’ll be in control.”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi pleads.

Oikawa ignores him, finally feeling sure enough on his legs to pull free of Ushijima, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna talk to Tobio-chan. Iwa-chan, get Ushiwaka ready for me.”

Ushijima and Iwaizumi stare at each other, equally horrified.

Oikawa doesn’t spare them a glance. Instead he wobbles to the spot where Kageyama has not moved for more than three hours, crouched and terrified. His cheeks are stained from dried up tears, and Oikawa feels his stomach roll.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa starts.

“I don’t want to,” Kageyama hisses back, keeping his face covered with his hands, “I want to go home.”

“That’s why you have to,” Oikawa replies.

Kageyama turns away.

Oikawa grits his teeth, “Do you think I want your dick up my ass!?”

Kageyama sqwacks in horror, physically trying to roll away. Oikawa grabs him though, keeping him in place and pushing him down onto the ground.

“No!” Kageyama screams.

“They’re going to cut of Iwaizumi’s hand, Kageyama!” Oikawa screams right back as he sits  on his chest, using his weight to pin him down.

“Why is this happening!” Kageyama shouts, and he’s crying again, Oikawa sees. And he can’t stand to look at it. But they dont have time.

“Stop it!” Iwaizumi orders, interrupting them both and shoving Oikawa off the poor boy. Oikawa is about to scream more, when he’s grabbed by Ushijima, and the press of Ushijima’s stiff cock against his back can be felt through his peacoat. He swallows.

Oikawa concedes, turning around to face Ushijima with a frown. He hates that he’s flushed. He hates that Ushijima is taller than him. He hates Ushijima, really.

“Lay down,” he orders.

Ushijima obeys, laying down on the cold tile.

This is better. Oikawa feels less a victim and more a clinician. He’d prefer if Iwaizumi were with him, so he could look at him instead of Ushijima’s stony face, but, if anyone could get Kageyama to stop screaming and comply, it’s Iwaizumi.

He places his palms on Ushijima’s chest, using them as leverage to slide himself down Ushijima’s large shaft. He’s still loose, from earlier, but Ushijima is huge, and he has to bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut while trying to fit him all in. His fingers dig into Ushijima’s skin, and he hates him. He hates him so much, of course his cock would be massive. What an asshole.

He lets out a gasp when he’s fully seated, and the world is blurry from the tears lining his eyes. “Fuck,” he hisses, curling forward and trembling, tears falling down to Ushijima’s chest.

“Are you alright?” Ushijima whispers.

“Don’t be decent,” Oikawa huffs back, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

He swallows, taking a few quick breaths before lifting himself off Ushijima’s cock and letting himself sink down. Ushijima groans, a long guttural sound from his throat, that makes Oikawa’s flush spread down his own neck. He tries to ignore Ushijima, sliding up and down, up and down, until he can feel his own cock twitch back to life.

He closes his eyes. It’s easier to think he’s somewhere else. At home, at Iwaizumi’s home, anywhere but here. He speeds up, trying to keep his teeth gritted so no embarrassing sounds escape him. Noisy breaths puff out of his nostrils.

It’s getting harder to set the tempo. His thighs are straining from the effort. His arms shake where they are. Ushijima makes his own tentative thrust, and the force pries Oikawa’s mouth open to scream.

Ushijima stops, but Oikawa shakes his hand, “Keep going,” he orders.

Ushijima is holding his hips now, and Oikawa feels his back arch involuntarily when Ushijima fucks himself with Oikawa, able to lift him up and down so easily, like Oikawa isn’t a six foot tall athlete atop him.

It doesn’t take long after that for Ushijima’s movements to become sloppier, needier, harder. Oikawa shouts again, arms giving way when Ushijima cums inside him, hot and fiery and too much. He ends up splayed out atop him, more jell-o than human. He sobs again, and his hand darts to handle himself, desperate for his own release denied to him thus far. He cums on Ushijima’s stomach, and almost falls right off of him if Iwaizumi hadn’t been there to catch him.

There’s another noise from the screen. Only one fuck remains.

Oikawa can’t even parse words, he merely gazes at Iwaizumi’s concerned face, lost in his green eyes, and wanting to sleep. But he knows he’s not finished yet.

Kageyama is in front of him now. He’s red. His skin all one bright shade. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks puffed out and his mouth puckered in misery. Oikawa would feel bad if he was less delirious.

Iwaizumi shifts him, so that Oikawa is resting on him, so that Oikawa’s full weight is on Iwaizumi’s chest. Oikawa thinks about telling him how good a chair Iwaizumi makes, but that would involve being able to speak coherently.

Ushijima is here too, and he has a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder which makes the boy tense before forcing it to relax. He’s whispering something into Kageyama’s ear, perhaps guiding him? Comforting him? Oikawa doesn’t know. He’s too busy looking into Iwaizumi’s eyes and trying to count the little freckles peppering his nose.

Kageyama slips in easy.

Oikawa groans, low and throaty, legs kicking out. He might have slipped all the way down if Iwaizumi didn’t have a tight hold of him around the waist, keeping him up right. Kageyama is not small, but he’s not Ushijima, or Iwaizumi for that matter. And Oikawa is as loose as he’s ever been, so Kageyama struggles through little friction as he builds his momentum.

Oikawa is loud. He can’t help it. He’d used up all the muscles in his jaws earlier when he tried to clamp himself shut. Now he can’t do anything, but stare up at Iwaizumi and cry and moan and curse and writhe. He’s drooling, leaking from every orifice. He’s a mess. A disgrace. And he sobs at the thought, and how there’s nothing to be done about it.

Iwaizumi doesn’t let him go despite this, and Oikawa loves him, he realizes. Loves him more than he ever could have thought.

Kageyama is young, inexperienced, and nervous. It doesn’t take long for him to release a strangled noise, and for that now sickeningly familiar feeling of hot cum to flood the inside of Oikawa’s ass.

There’s another ding and the screen shuts off, plunging them all into darkness.

Kageyama startles backward, slipping out of Oikawa’s sopping loose hole, causing the elder to let out an uncontrollable whine. Iwaizumi pulls him tighter against his chest.

The lights come back on.

There is a new gap in the wall.

Oikawa catches sight of it mere moments before he passes out.

Chapter Text

Kageyama scrambles to his feet, shoving his pants back up and glaring at the floor. The color has not dissipated from his face. He can’t look any of his senpais in the eyes. He is just walking shame at what he has done.

Iwaizumi has Oikawa wrapped in his dirty dark blue coat. Oikawa looks dead. Passed out in Iwaizumi’s arms, head rolled back and mouth parted. His face is still wet from all sorts of fluids. Kageyama can’t bear to look at him for long.

Ushijima goes to investigate the new opening, and then turns back to wave them all through. Kageyama trudges over, Iwaizumi trailing behind him.

They aren’t free.

It’s just another white tiled room.

Kageyama wants to scream.

Iwaizumi lays Oikawa down on the ground carefully. He then proceeds to start kicking at the walls again. Ushijima is patting at the wall behind them, where the gap has disappeared, trapping them anew.

What a joke.

Kageyama decides to help too, running his hands against the walls looking for something, anything. A tile shifts, but before he can figure out why, or which one moved, something falls from the sky.

He gasps, thick scratchy rope suddenly encircling his neck. He pulls at it, but it only grows tight around his throat. He chokes, scrambling onto his tiptoes desperately to keep it from crushing his windpipe or snapping his spine. Or both.

Ushijima sees him and he shouts in alarm, running toward him and hefting him up. The pressure leaves, and the rope drops down to rest closer to his clavicle. He takes in a gasping breath.

“Are you alright?” Ushijima asks, not daring to put him down. He has his arms wrapped around Kageyama’s legs, hoisting him up.

Kageyama doesn’t bother responding, just starts clawing at the rope to get it off him. The moment he does, the slack on the rope tightens, and he is strung up yet again. He flails, kicking out as he chokes. Ushijima seems to panic, trying to hoist him up higher.

Then, suddenly, the rope gives, and without the tension Kageyama falls onto Ushijma, and both end up on the ground. Kageyama heaves, spitting at the floor. He moves to yank the rope off again but Ushijima’s hands stop him, “Don’t…that, that seems to force it to tighten.”

Kageyama stares at him, bug eyed, but decides not to argue. His throat burns. He wipes at his wet face.

A screen lights up, taking up the entirety of the far wall.

Room 2:

Stretch him good. Stretch him wide. All three in Kageyama Tobio’s behind.

Kageyama doesn’t get it.

Ushijima looks over at Iwaizumi, and both look pale.

Another flash on the screen. Yet another four hour countdown. And underneath that:

Fail Condition: Kageyama Tobio’s death by hanging.

Kageyama wheezes, eyes wide. He claws at his own knees to prevent himself from fighting at the rope.

“This is insane!” Iwaizumi shouts again, it’s become his useless mantra.

There’s enough slack on the rope for it to trail down Kageyama’s back and pool on the floor. It still rises up, high into the vaulted abyss of the ceiling of this room. He wonders if he could climb it and escape. But he’s scared it will merely tighten and he will die.

Kageyama does not want to die.

He covers his mouth to stifle a sob.

Ushijima squeezes his shoulder and it is comforting in a way that Kageyama would not expect from the rival player.

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says quietly, “Do you still have the…the lubrication.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, “He’s fifteen Ushiwaka!”

Kageyama flushes and looks away.

“What choice do we have?” Ushijima continues. “They will kill him.”

Iwaizumi growls, frustrated and angry. He kicks at the floor. Oikawa shifts in his sleep. Iwaizumi quickly scurries to the brunet’s side, brushing away his sweaty bangs from his forehead. Oikawa blinks a bit in the stark light. Iwaizumi sniffles slightly in relief.

Oikawa lets out a long groan as he tries to sit up. His backside aches, his thighs shake, he can still feel cum dribbling from his ass. Disgusting.

Kageyama won’t look at any of them.

Iwaizumi rubs circles around Oikawa’s back, but returns to his conversation with Ushijima, “There’s no way we can all, can all fit. We’d kill him ourselves.”

Oikawa tilts his head  in confusion at the statment. Iwaizumi points up at the screen for Oikawa to read himself.

“I don’t want to die,” Kageyama says.

“We will not let you die,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa grimaces at the screen. He rubs his temple and then pushes Iwaizumi away to crawl to Kageyama’s trembling side. He reaches for the noose coiled around the boy’s neck, but Kageyama slaps his hands away fearfully.

“It tightens up when touched,” Ushijima explains.

Oikawa sighs and he looks at Kageyama, “You’re a virgin right?”

Kageyama squawks at him.

“Or, were, I guess,” Oikawa huffs. He swallows, trying to let the redness drain from his cheeks. He changes tactics, sitting close to the terrified boy, “You don’t want to die.”

“I don’t want to die,” Kageyama repeats.

“Okay,” Oikawa says, “You’re going to have to relax.”

“What? How!?” Kageyama shouts back, and the rope begins to wrench upwards. He gasps, lifting himself onto his knees now so it doesn’t cut of his air supply completely. He feels tears threatening to spill from his bulging eyes.

Oikawa bites his lip, “Tobio, if we’re supposed to do what it says we need to do, you need to relax, or it’s going to tear you apart.”

Kageyama tightens his fingers into fists where they rest on his thighs. He’s forced to keep his head up by the rope. He wants to scream. He wants to run. He wants to go home.

“I’m scared,” he hisses. A few tears do fall from his eyes.

Oikawa ignores him, coming to rest behind him. He tests something, wrapping his arms around Kageyama’s waste and tugging him slowly down against him. Kageyama stiffens, as the rope catches harsh against the under side of his jaw, but then it slackens, and Oikawa is able to have the boy rest his body against his chest. Oikawa’s long legs stretch out on either side of Kageyama’s.

Oikawa tucks his chin on Kageyama’s shoulder, ignoring the way the boy tries to shrug him away. Instead, he locks his eyes on Iwaizumi, “We have three and a half hours to ease him into this. We can go slow.”

Iwaizumi looks like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch straight through the wall. Probably does. But instead of doing that, he walks over to where he chucked the bottle of lube, picking it up and heading over to kneel between Kageyama’s legs.

Kageyama is tense, and he tries to turn his head to look away, only bump against Oikawa’s cheek. He closes his eyes, feeling the cold air hit against his bare skin as Iwaizumi removes his track pants.

He bites his lip, feeling Iwaizumi’s fingers wet and slimy in the cleft of his ass. Oikawa’s fingers run along his sides, “Relax, Tobio. You need to relax.”

Kageyama lets out a muffled whimper, keeping his eyes sealed shut. Regardless, Iwaizumi circles his entrance and slowly lets his first digit push in.

It’s weird. Foreign. Kageyama doesn’t like it. He squirms, but he has no where to go, trapped by Oikawa’s grip around him. He tries to curl forward, but then the rope around his neck jerks upward and he chokes, seizing up tight.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses. “Relax,” he urges.

Kageyama takes in a heaving breath when he’s given slack, laying back into Oikawa. Oikawa’s fingers keep rubbing his sides and he hates it but also doesn’t want it to stop.

“Breathe, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

Kageyama swallows the thick glob of saliva stuck in his throat. He feels dizzy. He tries to breath in, deep through his nose and then out again from his mouth. Oikawa hums by his ear, and he repeats the rhythm.

He lets his shoulders loosen, lets himself sink back into Oikawa.

Iwaizumi still only has one finger in him, pushing it in and out slowly, sometimes letting it spin in a circular motion, testing Kageyama’s rim. It doesn’t hurt, Kageyama thinks. It’s just odd.

“I’m putting in another one,” Iwaizumi warns, and Kageyama tries not to tense up again. Two fingers cause him to stretch, and it stings. He grits his teeth, but Iwaizumi pats his knee comfortingly and that seems to help.

“Did you find it yet?” Oikawa asks.

Kageyama doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“I think we’d know if I did,” Iwaizumi replies back, his eyes don’t veer from Kageyama’s ass. He’s biting his lip, “He’s really fucking tight,” he says.

“Of course he is,” Oikawa snaps, tightening his own grip on Kageyama, pulling him closer, almost possessively, “He’s the most tightassed brat I’ve ever met.”

Kageyama wants to yell at him. But he’s scared. So he stays quiet and still.

“Ushiwaka,” Oikawa turns, “Come be useful.”

Ushijima had been sitting beside the trio, watching intently while remaining incredibly still. He crawls closer, tentatively, movements unsure.

Oikawa tilts his chin up to  point at Kageyama’s half hard dick.

Ushijima frowns. But then he lifts his large callous hand and wraps it around Kageyama.

Kageyama jolts, leg kicking out in surprise. The rope pulls him up and he chokes, so high that Iwaizumi’s fingers slip completely out of him. Oikawa shifts from pulling him down to pushing him up.

“I am so sorry,” Ushijima is saying.

“Hold him higher!” Iwaizumi shouts.

Oikawa struggles, but finally the rope slackens and Kageyama can breathe. He coughs, hacks really, as he falls back onto Oikawa.

“We should have warned him,” Oikawa growls, mostly at himself.

Kageyama takes in another heaving, crying breath, “I don’t want to,” he begs, “I don’t want to die.”

“God damn it,” Iwaizumi curses, and it looks like he’s crying too.

“Let’s, let’s shift around,” Oikawa decides, taking his own calming breath. Something about seeing Kageyama—a boy he hates, but still just a boy—being strung up and flailing has started to wear upon his heart and nerves.

“Ushiwaka, you take my spot. You’re taller. You can hold him up higher if needed. Iwa-chan, you’re good where you are. Tobio, Tobio look at me.”

Kageyama looks at him, trying to swallow down the build up of saliva and tears that have flooded his mouth. Oikawa squeezes his fingers into his palms, “You need to relax.”

“I’m, I’m trying,” Kageyama sobs.

Oikawa’s breath catches as he tries to shush the boy, “I know, I know,” he says, with a softness he didn’t think himself capable of, especially directed at Kageyama Tobio. “It’s scary. And it hurts. But we’re going to, we’re going to get you out of this. Trust your senpais to take care of you.”

Kageyama shudders and tries to nod.

Oikawa smiles at him, “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through his hair, “Now, you need to trust us okay? We’re going to make you feel good so it doesn’t hurt. Okay? There’s no need to be scared. We’ve got you.”

Oikawa is talking out of his ass, but the words comfort Kageyama enormously. He nods again, sniffling. He sits himself down again, right in Ushijima’s lap and spread his legs nice and wide.

Oikawa rubs his thigh, “Good boy,” he praises, “That’s a very good boy, Tobio-chan.” He looks back at the clock. They’ve lost an hour. Kageyama is still too tight for more than two fingers. They need to speed this train up. “Iwa-chan, keep going.”

Iwaizumi hesitates, but dips back down, working his two fingers back in. Kageyama twitches slightly, but Oikawa keeps talking to him, cooing soft words of encouragement and holding his attention, to the point where Iwaizumi is able to  slip in a third and then a fourth with little protest.

Kageyama is making little noises of pleasure, curled slightly forward against Ushijima’s broad chest. Iwaizumi finds his prostrate, finally, stroking it as best he can. Kageyama groans and stiffens, letting out a surprised squeal of pleasure. The rope tightens its slack, but not enough to haul him up, just enough to coil tension around his throat.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa murmurs. “I’m going to touch you too. You want to cum right, Tobio-chan? You want to be a good boy and cum for me?”

Kageyama whines, his face a deep shade of red, at times bordering on purple. He kicks out slightly when Oikawa wraps his elegant hand around his throbbing cock, pumping in time to Iwaizumi’s thrusts.

“Put your fist in,” Oikawa orders Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi hesitates, but then he lets his thumb push in, shoving his fist into the boy.

Kageyama howls and cums, the rope tightening dangerously around him. Ushijima lifts him up a little, to alleviate the pressure, while Iwaizumi scrambles to follow so he doesn’t slip out. 

The rope slackens and Kageyama falls limp against Ushijima, his face a wet, leaking disaster. He doesn’t even have the energy to cough. Thick saliva hangs from his mouth that Ushijima has the courtesy to wipe away with his sleeve.

“Good boy,” Oikawa is praising, wiping his cum drenched hand on the tile floor, “That was very good Tobio-chan. That was so very good.”

Kageyama can barely keep his eyes open.

“We’ll have Ushijima go in first,” Oikawa decides. “Help me lift him, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi unclenches his hand, letting it slip out from Kageyama’s trembling hole. There’s no way, Iwaizumi thinks, there’s no way we’ll all fit in there.

Kageyama is dead weight between Iwaizumi and OIkawa, as they haul him up slightly. Ushijima scrambles to take his pants off. He’s hard.

Pervert, Oikawa thinks, except that he’s hard too.

Thanks to Iwaizumi’s work, Kageyama slides down smoothly over Ushijima’s thick shaft. Kageyama whines, high pitched, but he does his best to stay still so that the rope remains slack. Ushijima groans, wrapping his arms around Kageyama’s waist to pull him flush against him.

“Don’t fuck him yet, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa says quickly, and Ushijima nods, keeping his brow furrowed as if it takes all his concentration not to thrust into Kageyama’s hot virgin heat.

Kageyama squirms, and Oikawa strokes his face, “Be still, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama swallows a breath of air and tries to hold himself still. It’s harder now, with the hot stretch of Ushijima inside him. To be filled like this, he wants nothing more than to move. 

“Iwa-chan, keep stretching him,” Oikawa orders.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, but he kneels down obediently between Kageyama’s legs. Iwaizumi’s fist is wider than Ushijima’s cock, so he’s able to slip a finger in beside without much extra work. Ushijima flinches, rutting up instinctively at the touch, and Kageyama lets out a garbled noise.

Oikawa shushes him sweetly, while sending Ushijima a warning glare.

Iwaizumi ignores them all, pouring more lube on his hand as he tries to stretch Kageyama out enough to accommodate his fingers yet again.

It’s a lot. It’s a lot and they’re no where near to where they need to be. Kageyama is in perpetual tears, overwhelmed and scared.

“It hurts,” he cries, when Iwaizumi manages to fit four fingers beside Ushijima.

“I know,” Oikawa murmurs, “You’re being very brave, Tobio-chan. So very brave and good.” He says these comforting words, while motioning Iwaizumi to fist him.

Oikawa has stroked Kageyama back up to full mast, and once again, as Iwaizumi works his whole fist in, stretching the poor boy impossibly wide, he cums with a scream.

Again the rope pulls taught, and he tightens around Iwaizumi and Ushijima so tightly that Iwaizumi worries his hand will be severed and that Ushijima will be castrated. Ushijima has to fight not to come right then and there.

The boy’s face turns purple as he spasms through his orgasm, breaths stilted and chocked until he’s released with an uncaring drop. He collapses back on Ushijima, sobbing and shuddering, his asshole fluttering around the obstructions still within him.

“You’re okay,” Oikawa soothes, wiping his tears away, “Look, you’re okay.”

Kageyama has lost the ability to form words. His face is but salty tears and thick spit. He cries again, loud and desperate. But Oikawa just pets his head soothingly. He lets his hand rest on the back of Kageyama’s head pulling him into his chest so he can sob there. Even as he does so he gives Iwaizumi a look, get in there.

Iwaizumi slowly removes his fist before pulling his jeans completely off his legs. He tries not to think about it, just slowly eases himself in beside Ushijima.

It’s an insane feeling. Ushijima and him both groan at the way their cocks slide against each other, and Kageyama screams, writhing in Oikawa’s steady hold.

Oikawa holds him still as his body wracks and shudders to accommodate both cocks, “You’re okay, Tobio,” he murmurs, “You’re okay. You’re almost done. Be a good boy. You want to be a good boy right?”

Kageyama nods weakly as he sobs. Oikawa gives him the time to adjust, petting his hair. He lets his eyes glance over to the screen. They’ve broken into the one hour mark. He tries not to think about it.

Once Kageyama isn’t shaking violently anymore—only trembling now, but that seems to be a permanent fixture—Oikawa lets him lull back against Ushijima’s chest.

Carefully he maneuvers them, having Ushijima lie down with Kageyama lying on top of him, back against his chest. The rope has gone slack enough to give them room enough to do this. Iwaizumi completes the sandwich, doing his best not to crush them both with his additional weight.

Oikawa crawls behind them all, and his stomach squirms in horror mixed awe at how far they’ve managed to stretch the poor boy. His ass flutters around the two cocks stuffed in him, but Oikawa knows he still needs to make room for himself now.

He’s bleeding too. Not much, but redness has swirled with the huge amounts of lube leaking down Kageyama’s body. Oikawa is glad Iwaizumi didn’t mention it. It would have just made it worse for Kageyama.

“Tobio-chan, we’re almost there,” he says, bringing his hand up to his ass. There’s only a little bit of lube left, but he pours it on himself and his hand. He works a digit in, biting his lip at how tight it all is. He hears Kageyama cry again, but he also hears Iwaizumi murmur to him.

Oikawa doesn’t waste time. There’s no way to make the rest of this comfortable. They are going to be stretching him way beyond his limits, and so maybe it’s better to just get it over with. He sticks his next finger in, pausing only when Kageyama jerks upward from the noose, spluttering and choking. A second later he’s released, and his ass loosens once more.

Oikawa sticks in his third. Kageyama is letting out a constant cry of agony, high pitched and disoriented. Oikawa commends him for not passing out.

He removes his fingers. He’s just going to go in. They don’t need to fuck him. The task is to just get them all in at once. He can slide in quick, wait for the ding, and then get out.

He gets up on his knees, lining himself carefully between Ushijima and Iwaizumi, and starts pushing in.

Kageyama thrashes, howling, pleading, sobbing. Oikawa ignores him, pushes the sounds far from his mind, focuses just on the impossible tightness and sliding in.

He’s in.

Kageyama screams. The rope jerks and he chokes, a wet purple red mess with his head forced upward. It’s too much. It’s too much for any part of his mind to ever comprehend. He can’t breathe. He can’t see. He cums a third time from it, this one mostly dry, and the spasming tightness his ass too much for the other three not to cum as well.

The force of their seed has them all slip out, one at a time, leaving Kageyama gaping and flooded, unconscious but still trembling uncontrollably.

The lights shut off.

There is a terrifying thump, and the rope falls in a heap beside them, missing Iwaizumi by a mere inch.

The lights flicker back on and there is a new gap in the wall to walk through.

Chapter Text

The next room is a reprieve. There are water bottles. There is a bowl of plain rice. There is one twin bed.

It looks heavenly.

Ushijima carefully picks Kageyama up in his arms, trying not to think about the wetness seeping out of him onto Ushijima’s legs. Kageyama whines in his sleep, a pitiful sound that they all try not to think about. Iwaizumi is helping Oikawa to his feet, but Oikawa’s legs are still too shaky and he has to lean heavily on Iwaizumi to stagger through to the next room.

No one protests when Ushijima lays Kageyama down on the bed. Iwaizumi does pull the sheet away, using it to wipe up as much of Kageyama’s mess as he can. Oikawa downs a bottle of water, tossing his co-prisoners their own.

“So is this it?” Iwaizumi huffs, “Trapped in room after room?”

“These rooms can not go on forever,” Ushijima insists.

“Do we have anything sharp to cut the rope off his neck?” Oikawa asks.

Their pockets were emptied before they woke up in the first room. They have nothing. Iwaizumi walks over to Kageyama’s dormant side. His neck has blossomed with dark black-blue bruises, and it’s sickening to see. He twists the rope around trying to see if it would be possible to untie it, but the knot is fastened too tight.

“We could bite through it, maybe,” Iwaizumi contemplates, “It would take a while.”

Oikawa grimaces.

Iwaizumi sighs and leaves Kageyama to return to the other seniors. He looks at Oikawa, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” Oikawa replies, “Sore, but fine.”

Iwaizumi looks down at the white tiled floor. Useless. Powerless.

“What will they make us do next?” Ushijima asks.

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to think about it.

Neither does Oikawa, who decides, “I’m going to sleep too.”

He shuffles over to Kageyama, shifting him ever so carefully to the side to slip in beside him. Kageyama doesn’t stir, other than to lean into Oikawa’s warm body.

Kageyama ends up waking up in the middle of the night. Or day. There are no windows in this place. The lights have mercifully dimmed. Oikawa is spooning him in his sleep. His hold is loose, and Kageyama wishes he would hold him tighter, like that grip could protect him. And then he thinks he’s stupid for thinking that.

He can see Ushijima and Iwaizumi sleeping on the floor, using their jackets as pillows.

Kageyama feels disgusting. The ache of his backside is fiery now. Ever present. Torturous. He feels empty. Used. Worthless.

A sob tries to escape him. He wants to kicks his legs out in frustration, but his body hurts too much to do much of anything.

He wants to go home.

“Tobio,” Oikawa murmurs, and Kageyama stiffens. He can’t tell if Oikawa is awake or talking in his sleep. “Just sleep,” he urges.

And he must have obeyed, because he doesn’t remember anything after that.

They all awaken hours later, from the bright flash of a new screen with new orders.

Room 3:

Iwaizumi Hajime prove your strength. Hot and cold, you must stay strong, you must not fall.

The room is different than when they slept. There is a wooden rectangle left on the floor. The panel has notches carved into it, where fat candles rest unlit. Beside the table is another candle, this one very long, thin and a blood red. On the other side there looks to be a cooler. Perhaps with more water.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go forward to investigate. Kageyama tries, but sitting up is an ordeal that brings fresh tears to his eyes. So he remains in bed, trying to steady his breathing. Trying to stave off more panic from gripping his soul.

The wood slab does not just have indents for the candles resting in it. Each corner also has a slight dip. Two hand prints. Two feet prints. Guidelines. Directions.

Iwaizumi frowns, tracing a finger along the hand print in the top right corner. The heel of the palm is parallel to the top edge of the wood with the fingers pointing downward. He’d have to be sitting or kneeling outside the table to line his hands up correctly.

But then he wouldn’t be near the footprints.

He moves down the table to examen those, finding them similarly directed, with the heel pointed toward the top of the table and the toes millimeters from the southward edge.

“Fuck,” Oikawa hisses.

Iwaizumi looks over to see Oikawa has opened the cooler. He crawls over to see. Inside is a long, thick, dildo. Glassy and clear, with a stick embedded in the end for ease of use.

He touches it and then draws his hand back. It’s not glass. It’s made of ice.

He swallows.

Oikawa is examining the table again with a severe frown.

Ushijima is here too now, looking at the candles. In the process he finds a lighter, flicking it on and blinking as it produces flame.

“Let me see that,” Oikawa says, and Ushijima hands him the lighter without question. Oikawa stumbles back to the bed, motioning for Kageyama to turn around.

Kageyama’s eyes widen at the lighter and Oikawa works quickly to shush him, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Kageyama still looks like he’s on the verge of tears but Oikawa ignores him, lifting the trail of rope attached to him. Kageyama flinches when Oikawa flicks the lighter, so Oikawa hisses, “Stay still.”

Kageyama obeys, fingers gripping the edge of Oikawa’s coat for purchase. He squeezes his eyes shut as Oikawa starts gliding the flame along the underside of the rope, almost like a saw. Every time it catches, Oikawa blows out the fire, for fear of it suddenly engulfing them, but after a minute or so, the lengthy end of the rope drops. Severed.

Kageyama still has the noose, but it does not trail dangerously behind him for yards and yards. Instead, the length ends barely halfway down his back. Oikawa would try to burn off more, but the screen flickers again, almost impatiently.

Another countdown, this one only 1 hour. He bristles, standing up.

Fail Condition: Iwaizumi Hajime is burned alive.

“We need to hurry,” Oikawa immediately says.

“What am I even supposed to do?” Iwaizumi responds, panic hitching his words higher.

“Do we have any lube left?” Oikawa asks, ignoring him.

Ushijima shakes his head.

Oikawa curses. “Okay, okay, stay calm everyone,” Oikawa says, mostly to himself. “Ushiwaka, can you bring Kageyama over here, we’re going to need his help.”

Ushijima nods, strolling over to the bed. Kageyama needs to be carried over, his legs still jelly beneath him, and the pain of his backside too much for him to bear. Ushijima sets him down carefully next to the table, beside the red candle.

Oikawa forces Iwaizumi to lie down on his back beside the table and starts taking off his crusty jeans.

“What am I supposed to do?” Iwaizumi continues, but he makes no move to stop Oikawa. He doesn’t have the time to not trust him.

“Hot and cold. We’re supposed to, supposed to cover you in wax and, and fuck you with that ice pop dildo at the same time.”

Iwaizumi swallows down the panic increasing his heart rate. “Doesn’t seem so bad,” he decides, glancing over at poor Kageyama, dry cum still flaking off his skin. The rope hangs down from his neck, revealing the darkness of his mottled neck.

Oikawa spits into his hand, trying to get any kind of slipperyness to make the next bit more comfortable. Iwaizumi hadn’t bottomed yet, they were planning it out for the next time. This isn’t how Oikawa had imagined it going.

“What’s the wood slab for,” Iwaizumi continues, wincing a bit when he feels Oikawa prodding at him. He does his best to try to relax, staring up at the sky, “The prints dont line up correctly.”

“They do,” Oikawa murmurs, trying to be fast and thorough at the same time. “On your back, arched up. Like a bridge. That’s where the strength comes in.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi grunts, closing his eyes as he feels Oikawa’s second finger enter him. It’s a foreign  feeling to him, but he knows it can feel good, has seen how good it can feel, but nothing feels good in this hostile place.

Oikawa manages a third finger, grazing against that spot inside Iwaizumi that makes his whole body shudder momentarily. He bites his hand to keep the sound from escaping his mouth, and Oikawa rubs his thigh, and it’s almost a sweet moment between them. Almost.

But then Oikawa removes his fingers and Iwaizumi is left feeling weirdly empty.

“Okay,” Oikawa says slowly, “Iwaizumi will get into position. I’ll light the lower candles. Ushijima you can, you’re in charge of the, of the ice pop,” he grimaces as he says it. Iwaizumi wishes Oikawa would be doing that, but he doesn’t want to argue. The clock is ticking fast. He’s afraid. When he’s afraid he’s always just leaned on Oikawa. Now is no different.

Oikawa is still talking, “Tobio-chan, all you need to do is hold the red candle over him, okay?”

Kageyama nods numbly. He hasn’t said a thing since waking. Oikawa wonders if the rope damaged his windpipe and vocal chords. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask.

They move the fat candles from their notches in the wood so that Iwaizumi can comfortable lie down on his back. He brings his knees up so his feet line up with the imprints on the panel.

Oikawa tugs at his shirt, “Wait, take it all off. We don’t want anything catching on fire.”

Iwaizumi hates the idea of being completely naked, even though only Ushijima has his clothes still on. Oikawa is only wearing his open peacoat. Kageyama only has his jersey on.

Iwaizumi pulls his shirt overhead, throwing it over to where his jacket sits. He swallows and lays back down. Tentatively, he lifts his arms up, bending them back. He feels blindly for the prints in the wood at each corner above his head, letting his hands line up with them.

It isn’t comfortable, and he hasn’t even put any weight on them yet.

He takes a deep breath. There’s no use in delaying this. There’s barely any time for this mission.

He lifts himself, arching up high in a commendable imitation of a bridge. He’s strong. He’s always had good balance. The position holds.

Oikawa and Ushijima replace the fat candles in their notches quickly, and then Oikawa lights them all up with the lighter.

Iwaizumi feels the warmth at his back, dangerous and burning. One slight dip and the flames could lick at his bare skin. He grits his teeth and focuses on the ceiling above them.

“Slowly, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa murmurs, and that’s the only warning Iwaizumi gets before the head of the ice cock pokes at his entrance. He startles, almost losing balance, muscles seizing at the temperature difference. At the violation. He lets out a shout through his gritted teeth, and he most likely would have fallen if not for Oikawa’s arms darting under his back to hold him up.

“Stay steady,” Oikawa whimpers.

“Oikawa—”Ushijima starts.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa bites back. “Keep pushing it in. Hajime, can you hold?”

Iwaizumi groans, but he arches away from Oikawa hands, keeping himself up. Ushijima pushes the cock in again, and it is excruciating. Pure ice entering him freezing his insides and sending jolts up his spine. A pressure he’s never felt before fills him up, making his legs rattle as they do their best to hold him up.

He can’t bite his hand now. So his whines come out loud and agonized.

“You’re doing great,” Oikawa murmurs into his ear. “Kageyama, I lit the candle, just hold it over his chest.” Oikawa’s lips return to Iwaizumi’s ears, “Brace yourself.”

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut but he still curls inward at the splatter of hot wax that suddenly drips on his bare skin. He shouts, his body sinking, only to touch at the flames below and rocket him upwards. He cries out and despite the rocking waves he’s doing, Ushijima is able to pull the ice cock out and then force it right back in.

Iwaizumi spasms, the cock shoving in right as hot wax splatters on his nipple. He cries, and almost crumples in again, if not for Oikawa’s arms propping him up, “You’re doing great,” Oikawa continues, through gritted teeth.

Iwaizumi tries to arch higher and Oikawa removes his hands again. Iwaizumi’s arms are shaking. His legs are shaking. He can’t keep his mouth shut. Water drips down his ass in a disgusting river. The wax hardens along his skin, pulling taught with each new twitch and spasm. Ushijima keeps fucking him, unrelenting, and it’s so cold, and so hot, and his arms hurt so much.

He sobs, he can’t help it. Each drop of wax bows his body inward, threatening to topple him. Each thrust of the melting ice cock has him arch upwards in delirium. Everything hurts. It’s too much, it’s all too much.

Suddenly, he feels Oikawa’s lips on his. It takes him away from the moment, to someplace kinder, safer, nicer.

It’s a weird kiss. Upside down. Oikawa’s hands are warm around his cheeks, and his mouth is insistent at his lips. It’s distracting. The ice cock twists inside him and he moans, loud, but the sound is swallowed by Oikawa’s and he is grateful.

“You’re okay,” Oikawa murmurs against his lips when he pulls for breath. It sounds like he’s crying, but Iwaizumi can’t tell. He can barely see through his own suffering tears. Ushijima shoves the cock in him, his rhythm growing faster as it melts, creating a flow of water to slide through. With each thrust his body shudders, letting out groan after groan after groan, most now eaten up by Oikawa’s hungry mouth.

It’s a surprise when he cums. The ice cock is almost completely melted, so that Iwaizumi is being impaled with a hard unrelenting wooden rod. Kageyama’s candle is almost gone, but the last large pools of wax hit at his quivering thighs. And all of that together has him cry out. It feels like the climax is ripped from him, and it hurts more than anything. Everything hurts. 

“Fuck,” Oikawa shouts. Iwaizumi feels all his muscles give way at the same time he shouts it.. He crumples, but luckily Oikawa has shoved him to the side, so that he topples next to the table instead of atop the bed of candles. Iwaizumi curls inward with a sob, but that just makes him spasm, the wooden rod still stuck in him, straight and painful. Ushijima quickly rips it out of him.

Iwaizumi sobs again, curling up on his side, his legs throbbing, his arms throbbing, his back throbbing, all of him, throbbing. He can’t stop crying. He can’t even move.

“Do we still have water?” Ushijima asks.

“I dont think so,” Oikawa replies.

“Your arms,” Ushijima says.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa replies.

Iwaizumi forces himself to turn so he can look at both of them properly. Moving is an ordeal, skin tugging on red wax coating his chest thickly. He turns and he sees Oikawa’s arms, vines of dark red climbing over his forearms. The pathways lined with white skin already blistering.

Burned.

Iwaizumi looks horrified.

Oikawa doesn’t look at him, but can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze. “It doesn’t hurt,” he lies.

“You should have let me fall!” Iwaizumi screams, useless, angry. Powerless.

Oikawa doesn’t look at him.

“Why did you let me fall!?” Iwaizumi shouts again, covering his face with his hands.

“Look,” Kageyama croaks, voice scratchy and barely above a whisper. He’s pointing at the screen. It flashes once, twice and then reads:

Half-success.

The lights don’t go off this time. But a chute does appear, right by the screen, and from it tumbles a new little bottle. More lube? And then the screen grows dark. No gap in the wall appears. No new room. Perhaps that’s what a half-success entails.

Ushijima walks over to where the bottle rolled, examining it closely. He brings it back over to where the trio are and explains, “It is cream for burns.”

“How kind,” Oikawa says.

He doesn’t mean it.

Chapter Text

Oikawa lays on the bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Kageyama is curled up against him. The boy seems to have regressed slightly ever since he’d been the victim of the screen’s whims. Unable to raise his voice higher than a hiss, he mostly just kept his head down and latched a hand onto whoever was closest.

Oikawa supposes he’s changed a bit too, because pre-screen Oikawa would have shoved the boy away immediately. Post-screen Oikawa is now more occupied with ignoring the pain in his arms, which Ushijima—Yes, Ushijima—had carefully tended to with the burn cream.

Iwaizumi won’t talk to him.

Oikawa won’t talk to him either.

It had been hours now, trapped in the room with little to entertain themselves with. They’d eaten all the plain rice. The water bottles were empty.

Both Iwaizumi and Kageyama had gone the sleeping route. Oikawa can’t sleep, not with the fire that tingles the skin of his arms.

Ushijima also can’t sleep. He’s occupying himself by doing pushups in the corner. Oikawa wonders if the man is scared. Logically speaking, whatever horrid thing the screen asks of them next will be centered around Ushijima.

Oikawa wonders what it could be, and he tries not to dwell on the fact he might be looking forward to whatever humiliation may befall his worst enemy.

And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, the screen flashes on. Ushijima and Oikawa both look over to read it.

Room 4:

The baby needs his milk. Who will provide?

They squint. “Men can not lactate,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa nudges at Kageyama to wake him up. The boy whines, blinking his eyes open slowly.

A tile on the far wall flips, revealing a sign: Cow Stall

Oikawa ignores it, standing up to nudge Iwaizumi awake. They don’t exchange words but Iwaizumi rubs at his eyes and looks at the screen.

“What kind of milk?” Iwaizumi asks to no one in particular.

“Something gross,” Kageyama croaks. He’s hugging himself in lieu of holding onto anyone else. No one is close enough for him to latch on to.

“Well, looks like we get the privilege to choose,” Oikawa sighs.

“I will do it,” Ushijima says, before anyone can suggest it. “It is only fair.” Oikawa is pissed at him for being so decent about it.

“None of this is fair,” Iwaizumi reminds.

Ushijima doesn’t respond, instead he strides over to the Cow Stall sign. A gap appears in the wall and he hesitates. But he walks through it, never one to show weakness. The gap disappears.

“I don’t like this,” Iwaizumi says.

“I haven't liked any of this,” Oikawa snaps. He sits back down on the bed. Kageyama’s hand immediately fists the corner of his peacoat. He lets him. “At least it’s Ushiwaka.”

“No one deserves any of this,” Iwaizumi argues back, “Not even Ushiwaka.”

“Yeah, well,” Oikawa spits, “He should suffer just as much as we have.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head but decides not to reply, catching sight of Kageyama’s miserable face. There’s no point fighting in this prison. All they have is each other.

The screen flashes, please standby.

Oikawa lays back down on the bed. There is no countdown on the screen alerting them to when this standby will end. He does not want to give the screen more attention than it deserves.

Kageyama lays back down too, turning the rope collar around his neck so the tail rests against his clothed chest instead of his back. Oikawa watches him, bringing his own hand out to touch the rope. Kageyama flinches, but forces himself to relax, as Oikawa runs his hand along the itchy material to where the knot rests against Kageyama’s Adam’s apple.

They hear the rattle of a bell through the wall. There is scuffling. Muffled shouting. Iwaizumi stands up, moving toward the wall where the noise is emanating.

The screen flashes again, and suddenly, right in front of Iwaizumi, a gap appears in the wall.

“Ushiwaka!?” Iwaizumi says, and steps in.

Oikawa can’t see what he sees, but his curiosity pulls him. He helps Kageyama out of bed. The boy whimpers terribly when he puts weight on his legs, but at least he can stand now.

Oikawa half carries—half drags him through the opening. The gap in the wall disappears behind them.

Kageyama sinks to the ground to sit, only to wince and shift to lay on his side. He covers his face as if he doesn’t want to see what’s in front of him.

So Oikawa follows his non-gaze and finds his mouth dropping.

Ushijima is naked. He’s bound, arms pulled back taught. He’s forced to kneel on the ground, back bent so his arms can rest more comfortably. He’s breathing heavily, the sound wet from the spit gathering in his mouth. There’s a wooden rod between his teeth, gagging him, a string tying it tight around the back of his head. He’s collared too, with a golden bell dangling from its center.

There’s a frantic look to his eye. Scared.

Iwaizumi is beside him now, untying the cord around his head. He manages to loosen it and the bit in Ushijima’s mouth drops to his clavicle, clanking hard against the bell. He sucks in a breath, and then spits out the built up saliva in his mouth. Some of it drops down his chin but he is incapable of wiping it away.

“Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asks.

“They,” Ushijima starts, “They injected me, with, with something.” His voice shakes. Oikawa has never seen Ushijima’s face so open. So terrified. He looks young. Younger.

Oikawa remembers Ushijima is younger than him, by only a month, but still. He always seems to forget that.

“Inject you?” Iwaizumi repeats, “Like, a needle? Drugs?”

“I don’t know,” Ushijima responds, trying to keep his breath from speeding up. “It was painful.”

“Did you see them?” Oikawa presses, “Our captors?”

Ushijima shakes his head, “All covered up. There were too many of them.”

The screen in this room flashes. The previous order repeats with greater clarity.

Room 4:

The baby needs his milk. Dress the cow and put him to work.

A countdown pops up. Three hours. Better than last time.

Fail Condition: Ushijima Wakatoshi will be slaughtered for dinner.

Iwaizumi puts a hand over his mouth to stop from gagging at the thought. Because of Ushijima’s position he’s unable to read the screen. He can read the atmosphere of the room, however. “What does it say?”

“The same as before,” Iwaizumi mumbles.

With the shock of Ushijima’s present predicament waning, Oikawa’s vision expands to catch sight to a thick cloth draped over some sort of crate. He moves over to it, lifting the cloth away.

He swallows.

There’s a butt plug, but one that ends in a long cow tail. He picks it up, fingers pressing a button he hadn’t noticed, and it comes to life in his hands. He startles, quickly shutting it off. Iwaizumi comes up beside him looking at the crate with a severe frown.

“What the hell is this stuff?” he mutters. He’s not talking about the butt plug.

Oikawa has an inkling. But he’s not sure. He takes the bundle of tubes, suction cups and bottles. He lets Iwaizumi grab the power brick. They bring the items over to Ushijima, still kneeling and trying to keep himself calm.

When he sees the items he winces, “This does not make any sense.”

“Do we have any more lube?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“I’m assuming you’ve never shoved anything up your ass before, right Ushiwaka? Despite your stick-up-the-ass attitude?” Oikawa asks.

Ushijima glares at him. Oikawa ignores him. Instead, he waves at Kageyama, forcing the boy back into reality.

“Tobio-chan, come be a good boy and help us.”

Kageyama reddens, but crawls over carefully to sit by his senpais. He is unable to look at Ushijima.

“Open your mouth, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa orders, and the boy hesitates before complying. When he sees Oikawa bringing the butt plug toward him his teeth clack shut noisily and he rears away.

Oikawa frowns, “We have no lube, Tobio!”

“So!?” Kageyama croaks, flame red, “I don’t want that in my mouth!”

Oikawa sighs, “So you want us to just shove it into Ushiwaka dry? The only reason we don’t have any lube is because we used it all on you!”

Kageyama glares at the ground. Oikawa is about to argue some more, but then Kageyama, keeping his eyes downcast, slowly opens his mouth again.

“Good boy,” Oikawa says, and he slides the toy into his mouth slowly. Kageyama gags, and Oikawa brings the toy back. Kageyama grabs it himself, so he can control how much he takes in. He doesn’t pull it out. He keeps it in obediently, hollowing his cheeks to try to coat it with as much spit as he can.

Oikawa has a hard time looking away.

“How does this work?” Iwaizumi huffs.

Oikawa shoos him from the contraption. “Go get him ready for the plug.”

Iwaizumi sighs but rises all the same. Oikawa works on the tubes intuitively. One end into the power brick, the other end into the bottle with the pump attached. He screws on the suction cup to the bottle. And then he repeats the process for the second bottle.

He presses a button on the battery pack. One of the pumps comes to life noisily, startling them all. He brings his palm to it, and watches as the pump tries to latch on. He turns the machine off.

“Men do not lactate,” Ushijima says again, desperately.

“Who knows what they gave you,” Oikawa counters, “Are you ready?”

“Of course not!” Ushijima growls back. His eyes wince, and Oikawa sees that Iwaizumi has finally started to finger him. There’s redness coloring Ushijima’s face now, and Oikawa can’t deny it’s a pretty color on him.

Oikawa kneels infront of him. He lets his hand graze down Ushijima’s toned chest. He finds his right nipple, little bead in the cold air. He rubs it with his fingers, feeling Ushijima tense beneath him. He pinches and Ushijima seems to be reaching his humiliation mark, “Is that even necessary?”

Oikawa huffs,. “Fine, if you’re so impatient.”

He brings the first pump up, trying to line up the suction cup to Ushijima’s nipple. He wonders if it will hold. He’s pretty sure this breast pump is designed for breasts. Although, he realizes, Ushijima’s pecs are quite defined, perhaps more so than a flat chested girl.

Ushijima jolts in his binds. Iwaizumi must have added another finger. Oikawa presses the button on the machine. The pump comes to life in his hands, suctioning onto Ushijima hard and fast.

The man makes a strangled noise, reeling up almost akin to an unbroken stallion. The cow bell rings loudly, creating a cacophony with the whirring machine. Oikawa keeps his hands close, worried the pump will fall, but it holds, rhythmically pumping, open, close, open, close.

Ushijima drops back down, head hanging as he lets out the breath he’s holding. He shifts in place, tense and straining.

“Does it hurt?” Iwaizumi asks.

“It is unpleasant,” Ushijima responds through gritted teeth.

“Kageyama,” Iwaizumi calls. Kageyama looks up, pulling the plug out of his mouth. Saliva connects the pair, and he wipes the strands away quickly. He keeps his gaze low. Iwaizumi doesn’t comment. Iwaizumi is merciful like that. “Let’s put it in.”

“Why?” Ushijima asks, trying to turn his head back, even if it makes the bell clang against his skin, “Why must I wear that as well?”

“Would you rather be dead?” Oikawa snaps back, “I don’t care either way,” he adds.

Ushijima glares at him, and there’s something visibly hurt in his expression. It prickles Oikawa’s skin. He swallows and tries to let it roll of his shoulders. He fondles Ushijima’s other pec, rolling his free nipple between his fingers. Ushijima can’t complain this time because something much bigger is grabbing all his attention.

He sinks forward, groaning loudly as Iwaizumi slowly pushes the butt plug in to the hilt. Ushijima arches and then he seems to fold in half, almost crushing Oikawa with him.

“Stop that,” Oikawa hisses, “You have to kneel or these aren’t going to stay.”

Ushijima has his eyes shut, like he has to focus completely in order to even understand the words Oikawa is saying. After another deep shaky breath he tries to straighten back up.

Oikawa lines the next pump up and with little ceremony and presses it’s corresponding button. It latches and Ushijima hisses, crumpling forward again.

“Fuck,” Ushijima curses.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, mouth dry. He’s never heard Ushijima curse before. He’s hissed it so close to his ear too, it tickles the hairs by the nape of Oikawa’s neck.

Suddenly, Ushijima is jolted upwards, letting out another groan. The cow bell rings. Oikawa blinks and sees Iwaizumi behind Ushijima, tugging the lines that dangle from his arm bindings. His hold forces Ushijima erect, even as his body shakes to bend forward.

The pumps are noisy, mechanical sounds, open and closed, open and closed. Ushijima is struggling to keep his groans to himself, unable to hold his mouth shut for long.

Nothing is coming out of him.

Oikawa looks at the power brick with the buttons. There is a dial in the center. He turns it.

Ushijima actually shouts, whole body shuddering as the pumps speed up. Oikawa turns the dial more and Ushijima actually lets out a cry, and the sound is quite pleasing to Oikawa’s ears.

He finally takes notice of Ushijima’s cock, heavy and swollen between his legs. He slinks forward, letting his hand wrap around the shaft. Ushijima bucks and does crumple forward, the bell clattering against him.

“Woah!” Iwaizumi shouts as the bindings slip through his fingers. He grips them tighter, reigning Ushijima back to his kneeling position. Ushijima is breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, which can’t be comfortable with the pumps working at his chest. Open, close, open, close.

And then he lets out another cry, louder, more desperate, and he cums into Oikawa’s fist. Iwaizumi keeps his hold on his binds, even as Ushijima writhes, and then Ushijima shouts again, like a strangled cry is being pulled right out of his throat.

And then Oikawa sees it.

The sudden drops of white that bead out of Ushijima’s swollen nipples. His eyes widen and he releases Ushijima’s dick to get a better look, “Holy shit.”

Ushijima’s head is hanging as he catches his breath. He lets out another throaty moan, face red and sweaty. The only reason he’s upright is because of Iwaizumi’s tight grip.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, unable to see.

“It’s…It’s working,” Oikawa says, almost in awe.

Ushijima lets out an actual whimper and Oikawa realizes in that moment he’s hard. He buttons up his peacoat as if that can hide his predicament.

“This does not make sense,” Ushijima murmurs through his breath. He’s sweating, and each breath comes out noisy. He shifts uncomfortably on his knees.

Oikawa turns the dial all the way.

Ushijima shouts and the beads of milk quicken as they drip into the bottom of the bottle. “Too much,” Ushijima bites out. It almost like a beg. Is it possible for Ushijima Wakatoshi to beg?

Oikawa shakes his head, “If we want these full before the timer, we need it on the highest setting.” He says it for himself too, as if it is the only reason for speeding up the pumps.

Ushijima can’t close his mouth, his breaths are too rapid. The noises escaping him pained and pleasured and shameful.

“It started when he, when he came right?” Iwaizumi says, still uncomfortable talking about their deplorable acts, despite the fact he’d shoved a butt plug into his rival’s ass only moments earlier.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. He wonders if Iwaizumi’s hard too. He doesn’t want to ask.

Iwaizumi ducks down, fiddling with the plug in Ushijima’s ass until it roars to life. Ushijima actually jumps, letting out a surprised howl. He folds forward, the bell ringing and Iwaizumi has to pull him back to attention.

Ushijima sobs.

“That’s good,” Oikawa says, keeping his eyes on the milk bottles, “We’re a quarter there.” He licks his lips. Ushijima’s gaze is cloudy, heady. His face is red. His bangs cling darkly to his forehead. He’s heaving. His cock has sprung back to life, probably thanks to the vibrator buzz deep inside his ass.

“Tobio-chan, come here,” Oikawa calls.

Kageyama slinks over, keeping his gaze down, “What?” he asks hoarsely.

“Remember what you did to the plug?” Oikawa asks, “How you did it so well?”

Kageyama looks over at him with a furrowed brow.

Oikawa nudges him toward Ushijima’s cock.

Kageyama shakes his head quickly, “That’s gross!”

“Leave him alone, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi snaps.

Oikawa huffs, “Fine, then I guess I have to do it.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look happy with this decision either. Good, Oikawa thinks. He’s still mad at him.

He leans down. It’s a weird angle, with Ushijima forced to kneel in place. Oikawa has to be on all four and crouch very low to get his mouth anywhere near Ushijima’s cock.

He licks the head, salty and dribbling heavy amounts of pre-cum. Ushijima makes another strangled noise. Oikawa would grab his thighs for purchase, but his arms still ache from the burns and he’d rather not put weight on them.

He licks down the shaft, trying to map it out in his mind. Ushijima is big, bigger than Iwaizumi. He’s not as thick, however, and so when Oikawa licks back up and brings his head into his mouth, he doesn’t have to stretch his lips as wide.

Ushijima lets out another cry and Oikawa wishes he could lift his head to see how much milk sloshed out of their cow.

He feels something nudge his head, and he opens his mouth to release Ushijima’s cock. Kageyama’s stern red face comes into view. He looks determined, angry and embarrassed all at the same time. What an endearing brat.

Oikawa raises a brow.

Kageyama can’t hold his gaze. Instead, he lets his mouth fall open, and very tentatively tries to bring Ushijima’s cock into his mouth. He almost gags, but his pride holds him still. Oikawa grins, “What a good boy Tobio-chan’s being,” he praises.

Kageyama flames up more, but he closes his eyes and tries to suck.

Ushijima writhes, letting out another bark of a moan, and Oikawa lifts his head to see the milk sloshing up the sides of the bottle. Halfway.

“And what a good cow, we have,” Oikawa continues, giving Ushijima a nice pat on his side.

“Fuck you,” Ushijima growls, or he would have, if he hadn’t been pulled forward by his sudden orgasm.

Kageyama pulls back, coughing and spitting, wiping at his face and hands. Ushijima sobs again, trying to sink down until Iwaizumi pulls him right back up. His head lolls back, mouth wide and wet as he gasps.

“Almost there,” Iwaizumi murmurs, patting Ushijima’s ass like he would at a sport’s game.

Ushijima groans. He turns side to side, shaking.

They’re very close, Oikawa notes. That orgasm brought them up to about 3/4 of the bottle on each side.

“Again, Tobio,” Oikawa says.

Kageyama hesitates, “But—”

Oikawa places his hand on the back of Kageyama’s head, guiding him back down. Kageyama doesn’t push back. He trembles slightly, but obediently opens his mouth to swallow down Ushijima’s softened cock.

Ushijima groans pathetically.

Oikawa keeps his hands on Kageyama’s head, grabbing onto his black strands. He uses this new leverage to guide the boy up and down, slowly but steadily. Kageyama is tense at first, but then he forces himself to relax and be used. Oikawa never makes him go too deep. He isn’t that cruel.

“That’s a good boy,” Oikawa murmurs, his other hand traveling down to his own cock, running his fingers along the shaft with a hitched breath. Kageyama makes a noise around the member in his mouth, and it sends Ushijima reeling again.

Kageyama pulls back against Oikawa’s hand to spit, gasping and wiping at his mouth. Oikawa lets him go, and lets himself go to see that the bottles are full. He scrambles back to shut the machine off. Without their suction, the bottles clatter to the floor. And so does Ushijima, with a cry, as he falls down.

Iwaizumi is able to catch him before he face plants. He helps him turn onto his side. Ushijima is breathing heavily. Curling up on himself. “Please,” the man begs, shuddering horribly, “The, the plug.”

Iwaizumi scrambles, shutting the vibrator off and pulling it out. Ushijima lets out another cry, legs kicking out at the sudden emptiness. The sudden stillness. He is sore. His chest aches. Iwaizumi rubs his side, “You’re ok,” he says, “It’s over.”

“It’s not,” Oikawa reminds, picking up the bottles and unscrewing the suction cups from them, “The baby has to drink.”

“What baby, though?” Iwaizumi sighs.

Oikawa falters, “I thought, maybe, another sign would show up for us to put the bottles in.”

The clock only reads that they have ten or so minutes left. No such sign appears.

Oikawa frowns.

Iwaizumi busies himself with trying to undo the rest of Ushijima’s bindings.

Kageyama keeps wiping at his mouth.

Kageyama.

Oikawa looks at him. “Oh,” he says.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, slowly.

Oikawa swallows, “The baby. I think. I think the baby is Tobio-chan.”

“I’m not a baby,” Kageyama snaps.

“You’re much younger than the rest of us,” Oikawa reminds.

Kageyama frowns severely.

The countdown keeps ticking. It glares down at them. Ushijima is heaving on his side.

Kageyama swipes the bottle from Oikawa’s hand and downs it before he has to think too hard about it. His eyes widen as he does, his swallowing becoming more frantic. The three others can’t tear their eyes away from the hungry display.

Kageyama pulls the bottle from his lips when it’s empty. He blinks. His eyes fall to the second bottle in Oikawa’s hand. Oikawa’s grip on it tightens.

“Is it...good?” Iwaizumi asks.

Kageyama nods, “I…I like milk.”

Oikawa brings the bottle to his own mouth to take a sip. It tastes like…milk. Plain milk. But, after the days trapped here with just sips of water and handfuls of rice, it tastes heavenly. He passes it over to Iwaizumi to try. The man hesitates but takes a swig.

“Damn,” he says. He offers it to Ushijima. Ushijima waves him away, keeping his eyes closed and his sweaty forehead pressed to the tiles. Iwaizumi hands the rest to Kageyama who drinks it up greedily.

The screen flashes and the room goes dark.

Chapter Text

There’s more burn cream in the next room. There’s bandages. Theres a real bed, even. A giant one so that no one needs to sleep on the floor. There’s water bottles and rice—this time it’s even fried!

The food is delicious. The water a God send. Oikawa lets the cream soothe the burns covering his arms. No screen has appeared in this room. Nothing is asked of them yet. They are at peace.

Kageyama gasps when he finds that one of the walls is lined with shower faucets. They remind him of the locker room back in the Karasuno gym, and he is struck with homesickness. He pushes that down in favor of the real comefort of washing away the crust of cum and spit and sex caked to his body.

The water is even warm!

The sound of the sudden downpour has the other three captives racing over.

They don’t have soap, but the water is more than enough for them to at least feel better. Less sticky, less dirty. It simply feels good.

Iwaizumi finds bathrobes for all of them at the bottom of the water bottle crate and the fluffy fabric blankets their skin.

Kageyama lays down on the bed, stretching out despite how his backside still aches. Iwaizumi flops down near him, and Kageyama instinctively reaches out to hold a piece of Iwaizumi’s robe.

Oikawa breaks the tether by weaseling in between them, ignoring the giant expanse of bed on Iwaizumi’s other side. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he brings his fingers up to shift Oikawa’s hair out of his eyes.

“Do you think we won?” Kageyama asks.

“Won?” Iwaizumi repeats.

“The game. We did all the challenges and now we’re getting a reward? So, did we win? Can we go home?”

“Who knows,” Oikawa sighs.

“This is a poor prize for what they have forced us to do,” Ushijima mutters, coming to sit on the corner of the bed. He still rubs at his chest, sore and achey and swollen. “Perhaps we have only finished one set of this match.”

“Not everything is about volleyball,” Oikawa snorts.

Kageyama blinks. He fiddles with the sheets. He looks like he has something to say, but he remains mute. He turns on his side, so he looks away from everyone.

“Should we sleep?” Iwaizumi wonders aloud, “I feel like that’s all we do anymore. Of our own volition, at least,” he adds quickly.

“What else is there to do?” Oikawa counters. He lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Iwaizumi’s anger at him has subsided. Oikawa knows he was never really angry at him, more angry at himself. Which Oikawa thinks is worse, probably.

“We can run laps around the perimeter of the room,” Ushijima states, “We can do other basic exercises.”

“We could keep searching for a way out,” Iwaizumi insists.

Kageyama presses his face into the mattress, like he doesn’t want to hear any of them.

“As our self appointed leader,” Oikawa begins, “I think it best we keep our strength. Who knows when we’ll be given a bed again?”

“Who said you were our leader?” Iwaizumi snaps, but the usual playfulness has returned to his tone. Warm water can do wonders to anyone’s mood.

Oikawa giggles, “Iwa-chan, your listening comprehension is getting worse. I did say self-appointed didn’t I? And I am captain.”

“I am also captain,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa ignores him.

“Only you would keep inflating your ego in a hell hole like this,” Iwaizumi growls, but there’s no bite in his bark. In fact, he’s smiling.

Oikawa smiles too, because it means their back to normal. And any kind of normalcy is precious in this prison. He drags a finger down Iwaizumi’s nose, a sudden urge to touch him. Intimate.

He really does love him.

They fall asleep like that, all of them, on the comfy bed with their bellies fu;l, dreaming of a better place to be.

It’s unclear how long they’re able to sleep, but sooner rather than later they are awoken by the bright light of the screen.

Room 5: Oikawa Tooru’s head is too big. He must be disciplined and put in his place.

Fail Condition: Kageyama Tobio will lose his legs.

Kageyama looks down at the ground. Oikawa tries not to let his face show his fear when he sees his name. He simply shrugs at the screen and gets up off the bed. A door has revealed itself in the wall, and it’s time for them to move on.

The countdown hasn’t begun, so they all take their time trying to gather as many of the luxuries they’ve been provided as they can. They grab their day clothes from the piles they’d made and fill up more bottles of water from the shower faucets. Then they step through the opening and into the new room.

There is a wooden desk in the center of the room. Similarly to the plank Iwaizumi had been forced to use, this desk has handprint shaped indents near the edge. A paper sits atop the desk and printed on it in big bold lettering is further instructions, Once hands are placed they must not be removed—or else the assignment has failed.

Oikawa decides to wait to commit to this order.

Iwaizumi and Ushijima go through the desk drawers. Ushijima finds a pile of leather straps. He realizes after a few moments of staring that it is actually a complex blindfold. Iwaizumi finds a wooden paddle and a whip.

Oikawa swallows.

Kageyama fiddles with his rope collar instead of looking at any of them.

“I’m guessing I have to wear that,” Oikawa sighs, hoping he sounds nonchalant. He waves at the blindfold in Ushijima’s hands. “I hope it doesn’t ruin my hair,” he jokes with a forced little smile.

No one laughs.

Ushijima walks over to Oikawa and asks him to turn around. Oikawa complies. Ushijima slips the black leather over his eyes. One leather strap runs over the top of his scalp and down to the back of his neck. There is a collar component that Ushijima carefully wraps around his neck and clicks into place. The two straps that dangle from the ends of the actual blind fold than click into the collar.

Oikawa can’t see anything.

He tries not to panic, tries to restrain the shaking of his hands as he runs his fingers along the leather. There’s no give to the straps and he’s unable to move the blindfold at all, not even to peek.

He is in darkness. Total darkness.

He tugs at the back of his neck where he felt Ushijima click everything into place. There’s no release button, no clasp mechanism. Nothing.

“I can’t take it off,” Oikawa says.

He feels Ushijima’s fingers at his neck again and he shudders. They’re not as rough as Iwaizumi’s, but their larger, thicker. They work at the meeting point of the straps but Oikawa remains trapped in darkness.

“It seems to have locked in place,” Ushijima murmurs. His voice sounds deeper than he remembers it.

Oikawa swallows.

“They’ll give us the key when this is done.” Iwaizumi quickly says. Oikawa nods, because that thought is all that’s keeping him from panicking.

“So let’s get this over with,” Oikawa continues, “Tobio-chan, be a dear and guide me back over to the desk.”

Kageyama shuffles over and Oikawa feels his slim long fingers wrap around his wrist. Kageyama walks them to the desk, unaware that he should probably go slower, and Oikawa curses himself internally for asking Kageyama to guide him of all people. Regardless, they make it to the desk with Oikawa stubbing his toe only once.

“Where are the prints?” Oikawa asks aloud. “Wait, no, let me, let me take off the robe first.”

The three men trapped with him have seen him naked countless times now, but for whatever reason, he feels more vulnerable and shameful than ever before as he disrobes. Most likely because he can’t see them. It’s unfair, really.

He lets the robe fall to the floor. Kageyama helps line his hands up with  the indents in the woods He’s forced to lean over the desk to do so, ass jutting out slightly. He tries to relax his shoulders. He takes a deep breath in and then out.

There’s a clicking sound.

He stiffens, “What was that?”

“The screen,” Iwaizumi says, from behind him somewhere, “More instructions.”

“What does it say?” Oikawa asks.

“Kageyama Tobio will be first. Ten spanks with his hand. Hard. Oikawa Tooru must keep count,” Iwaizumi reads out awkwardly. He’s moved closer to his right side.

“Aren’t you lucky, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa grouses.

“I don’t,” Kageyama starts, but something stops him. He hears a click from the screen. Then shuffling around. Oikawa opens his mouth to ask what’s going on when the first slap hits his bare ass. He jolts into the desk, more from surprise than pain. His hands do their best not to skip forward on the wood and out of the indents.

He doesn’t make a sound other than the release of breath from his gasp.

“You have to count,” Ushijima’s voice says, sounding slightly hurried, “Or it, it starts over.”

Oikawa grits his teeth, “One.”

“Too late,” Ushijima murmurs, apologetic. “Kageyama, start again.”

Oikawa is ready this time, braced on the desk for the next spank. His fingers twitch. “One,” he says, sternly.

Kageyama hits him again. Two. Again. Three. Again. Four.

His ass is starting to sting, the air between his skin and the palm of Kageyama’s hand electrifying. The boy is hitting the same spot, creating a concentration of pain in the darkness Oikawa’s in. On the seventh slap Oikawa makes a pained noise without meaning to, before rushing to say, “Seven.”

He expects Iwaizumi to comfort him. To check in on him. But there is only silence. No one has spoken since Ushijima asked Kageyama to restart. Oikawa can only hear himself, breathing heavily and counting.

Eight.

Nine.

His legs wobble on the tenth, and he feels his chest crumple onto the desk. “Ten,” he hisses, pressing his forehead to the wood. “Fuck,” he groans, sore.

“Straighten up,” Ushijima orders. His voice is harsh in Oikawa’s ear. More akin to what he would hear from the other side of the net. Not now. Not anything like the softer voice he’d become accustomed to in the prison.

“What?” Oikawa argues.

“Get back in position. Now.” Ushijima snaps.

Oikawa bristles, “Fuck you,” he says. “Where’s Iwa-chan?”

“Do as he says,” Iwaizumi says. He’s further away than before. His voice distant in more ways than one. Oikawa feels cold sinking into his chest. Why? Why the sudden sternness? Is the screen ordering them to do this? Oikawa can’t see. Why won’t they tell him?

He feels his heart beating faster.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi shouts and he sounds angry. Upset. And Oikawa straightens himself up quickly. Obediently.

“Ten more now,” Ushijima says, but it sounds like he’s talking to the others instead of Oikawa. Like he’s reading. Maybe from the screen?

“You do it,” Iwaizumi says softly, like he doesn’t want Oikawa to hear. But Oikawa can’t see, so all he can do is hear, and he picks up the tremble in Iwaizumi’s voice. Fear.

Oikawa frowns.

“Remember to count,” Ushijima says and it’s the only warning Oikawa receives before the whip hits his lower back.

Oikawa screams, pain and shock swaddling together into burning streaks across his skin. He hears Kageyama let out a shout too, maybe a whimper? Ushijima doesn’t apologize, instead he just orders, voice even louder, “Count!”

“One!” Oikawa shouts back. He can’t think anymore. He can’t analyze the situation nor his fellow prisoners’ changed behavior. He can’t think at all. He is just in darkness with only pain for company. It’s hard to count with every additional horrid strike.

Two. A shout.

Three. A scream.

Four. A shriek.

“No more,” Oikawa sobs, knees buckling and knocking into the wood. “No more!”

Someone’s hands—they must be Iwaizumi’s from how rough they are— shove him back up to position callously. Don’t they hear him? He can’t. He can’t anymore.

Ushijima slashes him open again. Oikawa cries.

“Count!” Ushijima repeats, and he sounds like he’s nearing to be as hysterical as Oikawa has become.

“Five!” Oikawa screams. He feels blood dropping down his back. He wants them to stop. He needs them to stop. But Iwaizumi is holding him up. Why won’t he talk to him? Why won’t he tell him its okay? Why? Why? Why is this happening?

Had he done something wrong?

Six. Another ripped sob.

Seven. He can’t differentiate from the spit and tears running down his mouth.

Eight. A wail, like nothing he’s ever let out before.

The blindfold is soaked from the tears being pressed into the skin of his cheeks. He’s choking on his own spit. He wants to fall down. His legs don’t stop their shaking. He keeps twisting his head, side to side, begging for reprieve.

Ushijima gives him none.

Nine. His throat is hoarse.

Ten. Oikawa shrieks when the last hit comes. At the same moment Iwaizumi steps away and he is allowed to crumple. Except, someone has a hold of his wrists, keeping them firmly in place on the wooden desk. He does not have the strength to pull away. He falls to his knees in a heap.

He heaves, pressing his cheek against the wood. He’s trembling. His back is on fire, “No more,” he pleads again, “No more.”

No one answers his plea. Where are they? Are they gone? Someone’s holding his hands, but what if it’s one of their captors? He can’t see. He can’t see.

He tries to pull free but the hold on his wrist is strong, fingernails digging into his skin. He feels his heart racing. “Please,” he begs, and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’m sorry,” he adds, like that might help. Had he done something wrong? He can’t remember. But he’ll say anything for this to end. If only he could see. “I’m sorry please, please no more.”

No one answers him.

Is he alone?

Then there are hands on his sore back. Dressing his wounds? No. Trying to get him to stand again. He can’t. He won’t.

“Get up,” Iwaizumi says. He sounds so cold.

Oikawa shakes his head, “No, no, no.”

Iwaizumi is forcing him up, “Come on. Get up. Now.”

“Stop,” Oikawa weeps, “Stop! Why? Why are you, you being so mean.” It sounds childish from his mouth. But his brain can’t think hard enough to come up with better vocabulary. The pain coursing through his system is too much to process. This isn’t the Iwaizumi he knows. This isn’t the Iwaizumi he loves.

Iwaizumi’s hands seem to waver, but then he tightens his grip, using his superior strength to force Oikawa up. Whoever has Oikawa’s hands keeps them in place. Oikawa is shaking his head, “Take the blindfold off! Please! I don’t—”

Iwaizumi spanks him.

Oikawa chokes on his words, rocketing forward in surprise. Pain lights fires through his nerves all the way up his spine.

“Do as we say,” Iwaizumi snaps.

Oikawa wants to argue. This makes no sense. What’s going on? Why is this happening. This isn’t Iwaizumi. Is it?

“Ten more,” Iwaizumi says and then he swallows. Oikawa doesn’t think he can do ten more. He can’t do a single more. He can’t. This is crazy. He wants to run. He’s scared. He’s so fucking scared. He can’t think. Everything is out of his control. He hates it. He wants the blindfold off. He needs someone to tell him what’s happening. He needs a moment so he can just, just fucking think. But the hands and voices are insistent.

“I can’t.” Oikawa whispers.

“You will,” Iwaizumi responds. He seems to falter and something in Oikawa’s mind wants him to hold on to that fact. That there is something wrong. Iwaizumi can’t mean any of this. He’s being forced. Right? Right? Why won’t he just say so?

And then he feels him, stiff cock up against his ass. He blinks behind the sopping blindfold, letting out a gasp. He shakes his head. They don’t have lube. He hasn’t been fucked since the first room. What’s happening? The screen didn’t say anything about getting fucked. How can Iwaizumi be hard right now? What’s going on? Why won’t they tell him?

“What are you doing?” Oikawa cries, feeling the burn as Iwaizumi pushes himself in.

“Using my,” Iwaizumi takes in a breath as he slides into Oikawa’s impossible tightness. Or maybe he’s delaying what he’s about say, “Using my stupid bitch.”

Oikawa stiffens completely, rigid like stunned stone, “Wh-what?”

Instead of answering, Iwaizumi spanks him—this time not with his hand. It’s much harder, and Oikawa remembers the sight of the wooden paddle. He shouts, rocketing forward, only for Iwaizumi to force his hips back. Fucking him without mercy.

“Count!” Iwaizumi shouts.

Oikawa doesn’t even remember what numbers are, but he manages to spit out, “One.”

“Good little bitch.” Iwaizumi forces out. Oikawa sinks his head lower, feeling his ears and face burn. He doesn’t want them to see. He doesn’t want any of them to see him.

“Don’t,” Oikawa hisses, “Don’t call me that.”

He’s spanked again and he shouts, folding onto the desk. Iwaizumi keeps fucking him, never missing a single beat.

“Count, you stupid bitch,” Iwaizumi orders.

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut beneath the blindfold, turning his head so his cheek rests against the wood, “T-two.”

“That’s a good little slut,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa wants him to stop. His chest is heaving. He feels like he’s going to drown in his own tears.

“You’re hard,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa says nothing. But he is. He hates it. Everything hurts. But Iwaizumi fucking him has his own cock coming to life, brushing up against the side of the desk.

“Pathetic,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa tries to pull away. The hands on his wrists and Iwaizumi’s grip on him keeps him in place. He’s spanked again. He doesn’t need to be reminded this time, “Three,” he whispers.

“Good. Very good,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa swallows down the saliva building up in his mouth.

“Tell me what you are,” Iwaizumi orders.

“Stop,” Oikawa murmurs.

He’s spanked again, hard. Oikawa shouts, knocking his forehead against the desk. “Four!”

“Tell them what you are,” Iwaizumi repeats, louder.

OIkawa doesn’t want the reminder that Ushijima and Kageyama are seeing him like this. Undone. Sobbing. Bleeding. Hard. Getting fucked. It’s humiliating. It’s beyond humiliating.

“Say it!”

“I’m,” Oikawa starts, interrupted by his own groan when Iwaizumi’s next thrust is especially deep, “I’m a stupid bitch.”

“And a slut,” Iwaizumi prompts.

Oikawa groans again, back arching slightly as Iwaizumi hits his prostrate and makes the pain lessen for one blessed moment. It comes back like a train with the crash of the paddle on his red ass.

“Five!” Oikawa says quickly.

“What else are you?” Iwaizumi continues.

“A slut,” Oikawa whimpers. It’s so dark. The words feel louder in his ears than they really are. Like they are tangible things in the air. Real and all encompassing.

“Worthless,” Iwaizumi continues. “What are you?”

He hits him again, hard. Oikawa cries, “Worthless.”

“Count!”

“Six!” Oikawa sobs, “I’m worthless! I’m sorry! No more, please!”

“Again,” Iwaizumi continues regardless. He hits him, even harder it feels, or maybe Oikawa has become too sensitive. Saliva rains down his chin and he’s surely making a mess of the desk he has been forced up.

“Seven,” Oikawa hisses, “I’m worthless,” he repeats. Each time he says it, it feels more true. What kind of person would let this happen? Without even a fight?

“A worthless slut,” Iwaizumi continues, “A pathetic bitch.” He hits him again. Oikawa groans. His cock is throbbing against his permission. Maybe he really is a slut, to find pleasure in this hell. He’d gotten hard in the other rooms too. Why is this happening to him? Did he deserve it?

“Count!” Iwaizumi shouts, “Or do you want to restart? Is that it? You want this to keep going?”

Oikawa cries, shaking his head quickly, “No, I’m sorry! Eight. Eight!”

“And what are you?”

“A, a worthless slut,” Oikawa gasps, his hips pushing back against his own volition. “A pathetic, a pathetic bitch.”

Iwaizumi hits him again.

Oikawa can’t feel his legs. The only reason he’s able to hold this position is because Iwaizumi has him pinned against the desk. He doesn’t miss a beat this time, “Nine. I’m a worthless slut. A pathetic bitch.” Like a mantra, almost.

Iwaizumi hits him again, one last time and Oikawa crumples because it’s timed exactly with Iwaizumi’s thrust. Oikawa cums against the desk with a pained sob, before quickly spitting out, “Ten. I’m, I’m a worthless slut. A pathetic stupid bitch.”

Iwaizumi cums too, deep into his ass, and Oikawa cries again at the feeling. The hands on his wrist let him go. Iwaizumi pulls out. Without either support, Oikawa falls to the ground in a wet sobbing heap. No one rushes to his aid. He doesn’t understand.

Maybe he does.

Maybe he is worthless. Maybe he’s undeserving of their aid. Maybe they see how disgusting he is now. How pathetic. He’s always been pathetic, hasn’t he? Unable to take his team to nationals. Unable to even stop a child from taking his place. Pathetic. Worthless. Even Iwaizumi thinks so.

He brings his hands up to cover his face to try to hide. His fingers dig at the blindfold but it does not budge.

He hears a ding. The screen, maybe?

And then suddenly he is back in someone’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, please forgive me, Tooru,” Iwaizumi is begging in his ear, voice a far cry from what he’d heard just moments before. It’s startling. Oikawa doesn’t understand. He tries to pull away. What’s going on?

“The key,” Oikawa hears Kageyama’s voice. His voice sounds heavy and cracked, like he too has been crying.

Someone moves to the back of his head and unlocks the blindfold, letting it fall  away from his face with a metallic click.

Oikawa squints at the brightness of the room.

Iwaizumi is still holding him like a lifeline. Oikawa doesn’t find it very comforting. He pulls away again and this time Iwaizumi lets him. He scurries toward the wall, giving him the space he suddenly, desperately needs. He doesn’t want to look any of them in the eyes. He doesn’t want them to look at him. To see him.

“Forgive us,” Ushijima says quietly. He’s the one holding the key. Oikawa does not recognize his face. He looks, broken almost. Face split in half and eyebrows heavy on his face. He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t.

Regardless, he’s not as broken as Iwaizumi, who now Oikawa can see is crying. Has been crying, from the staining on his cheeks. Kageyama too. Silent and far, far away.

Oikawa doesn’t know what to say. Or how to wrap his head around it. His brain feels muddled. He suddenly wishes to return to the darkness, where at least it was easier to focus on one thing.

“We need to dress your wounds,” Ushijima finally says.

“Why?” Oikawa asks, but not in response to Ushijima’s question. It’s not his back that hurts the most. He’s looking at Iwaizumi, “Why were you so mean?”

“I had to be,” Iwaizumi replies, unable to meet his gaze, “Or they’d, they’d keep…they’d keep adding on the tallies.”

“We had explicit instructions to keep from you,” Ushijima adds, “Anything not followed would result in more lashings.”

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, hugging himself tightly with his arms. “I want my robe.”

Kageyama rushes for it, like he had been praying for something to do this whole time. He hands it over to Oikawa. Oikawa takes it, slipping it on with a shaky grip. He can’t look any of them in the eye.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi starts, cracked, desperate.

Oikawa crawls further away, wishing he could faze through the wall to be somewhere else. Somewhere alone.

He just wants to be alone.

Chapter Text

Oikawa remains swaddled in the corner of the room, eyes staring off into nothingness. It is the quietest he has been. The quietest he has ever been, perhaps.

Iwaizumi paces the other side of the room. His knuckles are bloodied. He has returned to his initial strategy of punching the wall despite its lack of any result. Perhaps he is punishing himself. Ushijima does not know.

Ushijima waits for the next door to appear. That is usually what happens now. None has appeared yet in this odd reprieve.

Kageyama sits beside him, uncomfortably close despite the size of the empty room they occupy. He fiddles with the rope around his neck but is sure to keep his side glued to Ushijima’s. Ever since his room the boy has become dependent on tethering himself to someone.

Ushijima would prefer him to attach himself to someone else.

Unfortunately, Iwaizumi would probably fight the poor boy off and Oikawa…well, Oikawa would not let anyone in the vicinity of him. Even as blood stains his robe.

Ushijima bites his lip and rubs his chest.

His pecs are swollen still from the abuse. They are sore. Have been since he woke up, but the heaviness has increased. He can feel the way his robe rubs against his nipples. The room is not particularly cold, but his nipples stand at attention.

He shivers when his fingers brush against the sensitive nubs.

Kageyama shifts beside him, looking up with his blank blue eyed stare, “Ushijima-san?”

“Yes?” Ushijima responds.

“You smell like milk,” Kageyama says.

Ushijima frowns, “Do I?” He brings his hands back to his face, but before he can even smell them he sees the little droplets on his finger tips he’d hoped were just beads of sweat. He swallows.

Kageyama is staring now, much more keen.

“Do you have…Again?” Kageyama murmurs, bringing himself up to his knees. His interest has Ushijima uncomfortable, pulling back slightly into the wall.

“I,” Ushijima hesitates, “I do not know.”

Kageyama is bolder than Ushijima expects him to be, tugging Ushijima’s robe to the side to reveal his chest. His chest is definitely swollen, and now in the light he can clearly see the translucent white liquid beading at his nipples. He swallows shakily and feels the panic returning to his face.

Is what they gave him permanent? Is this his life now? This can not be. This can not be.

“Does it hurt?” Kageyama asks, staring openly.

“It is uncomfortable,” Ushijima says, fighting the urge to wrap his robe back up, “But not necessarily painful.”

Kageyama looks down and Ushijima sees his face has colored red.

“Can I…” Kageyama starts, awkwardly fumbling through his words, “Can I have some?”

“Some what?” Ushijima asks, blinking.

Kageyama looks pained at the question, “It might help,” he continues, edging closer, “I’m sick of lukewarm water.”

“You want to—” Ushijima can’t even bring himself to say it. Kageyama won’t meet his gaze.

He feels a bead of milk drip down his chest, flowing lightly toward his navel.

He swallows.

He looks away from Kageyama to stare strictly at the wall ahead of him.

Kageyama leans forward, climbing into Ushijima’s lap. He bends down, eyes glued to the pearly white beads before wrapping his lips around Ushijima’s engorged nipple. Then he gives a tentative yet firm suck.

Ushijima groans, loudly, back arching slightly at the relief in pressure. His hands comes up to cup Kageyama’s head, keeping him close. The boy is hungry, fueled by the taste on his tongue and the rumble in Ushijima’s chest. He suckles greedily, eyes closed and content for maybe the first time since awakening in this prison.

Ushijima closes his own eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. His free hand climbs up his chest to massage his other pec. Part of him wants to urge Kageyama to switch, but he also doesn’t want him to stop. Another part thinks to call for Oikawa or Iwaizumi, but the very notion is mortifying.

Luckily, instead he lets out a shout as the next doorway opens against his back, forcing him to fall. Kageyama falls with him in a heap, pulling away and wiping his mouth. His eyes are black, caught in a daze. Ushijima rolls away and tightens the robe around himself.

They’re in a new room. Very large but with little room to walk. Almost the entirety of it is taken up by a large tank of water. The panels of glass are crystal clear. The walls stretch up high, smooth and without purchase. There is a ladder on one side however. Are they supposed to climb in? Across from the tank, against the wall they just fell through, is the screen.

Kageyama stares up at it.

Selecting…

The elipses bounce on the screen, as if loading something. At this point Iwaizumi steps through the doorway after them, carrying some of their supplies in his arms. Ushijima catches sight of Oikawa gathering the last few bottles before the door seals shut.

The screen beeps.

Selection Made

Iwaizumi drops the meager rations in his arms, whirling back around to pound at the wall that once was a door. “Oikawa!?” he shouts. “Can you hear me? Oikawa! Answer me!”

The wall doesn’t respond. The screen beeps again, more ellipses animating its pixels.

Preparing…

The screen is stuck like that for several minutes. Kageyama sits down to better hug his knees. His eyes shift from the floor to Ushijima and Ushijima tries not to look at him.

The screen finally changes, revealing their instructions.

Room 6: Kageyama Tobio use that mouth, suck them both dry. As long as your mouth is filled with cock, Oikawa Tooru can breathe.

Fail Condition: Oikawa Tooru will drown.

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says, interrupting the man from his fight with the wall. Iwaizumi looks over and finally reads the screen.

“What does that mean?” Iwaizumi says, panic in his voice, “Are they suffocating him?”

As if on cue,  the ceiling opens up above them and Oikawa is unceremoniously shoved out of the sky with a startling screech. He’s bound tightly, unable to move his arms from his sides or his legs apart. He can only manage to flick his feet. One of the straps around his chest has a thick metal loop on the back. From there a sturdy rope—not unlike Kageyama’s collar—is tied, the end trailing up into the abyss of the ceiling.

The rope is taut, suspending Oikawa’s legs mere millimeters from the tank water.

Iwaizumi races toward the ladder, taking the rungs two at a time. Oikawa is still trying to catch his breath from his scream.

“Get away!” Oikawa shouts, rearing back from Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand, making the man go rigid. “Don’t, don’t fall in!”

“I’m trying to get you!” Iwaizumi shouts back.

The rope drops and Oikawa plunges into the water up to his knees. He screams, the water icy against his skin. He shakes his head at Iwaizumi, “Follow the instructions or I’ll die!”

Iwaizumi swallows. His knuckles are white where they hold the edge of the tank. Oikawa glares at him.

“He is right,” Ushijima calls. The screen now only holds the timer. One hour.

Kageyama presses his face into his hands. He has yet to get up from the ground. Ushijima swallows.

The timer starts with a splash.

Everyone looks at the tank, seeing Oikawa’s struggling form through the glass. He worms around, incapable of getting back to the surface. Bubbles bleed from his sealed lips.

“Kageyama!” Iwaizumi shouts, jumping from the ladder.

“I know!” Kageyama cries. He’s trembling but he’s forced his hands away from his face. He turns onto his knees, and with shaky hands grabs at Ushijima’s robe.

Ushijima is flaccid and Kageyama is unsure and ill equipped. The last time he had done this Oikawa had been beside him, guiding him, coaching him.

Oikawa might die.

He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a sudden firm grip of Ushijima’s cock and wraps his mouth around it.

Ushijima groans.

Oikawa gasps.

The rope reels him up, enough to reveal his head and chest. He coughs up water. His breath wet and noisy as he sucks in as much oxygen as he can.

Kageyama pulls back with a cough and Oikawa is dropped back down into the pool’s depths.

Kageyama doesn’t swallow Ushijima down again of his own volition. No, instead, a firm grip takes hold of the back of his head and forces him down. He chokes and tries to pull back but he can’t.

“Relax!” Iwaizumi growls, and it does not sound comforting or encouraging. It sounds nothing like Iwaizumi, actually. Kageyama struggles, “Use your nose!”

Tears prickle at Kageyama’s eyes and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

It feels as though the scratchy rope around his neck has come back to life to choke him. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to die!

Ushijima shoves Iwaizumi away and the pressure keeping Kageyama in place leaves. He rears back, coughing and spluttering. He brings a hand up to quickly wipe at his eyes and mouth. He heaves and does his best to hold back the sudden need to sob.

“He’s going to drown!” Iwaizumi insists.

“You were suffocating him!” Ushijima snaps right back, voice loud and angry. His teeth are gritted.

Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to care. He struggles against Ushijima, hellbent to force Kageyama back into choking down Ushijima’s cock.

Kageyama tries not to look at him. Iwaizumi is stressed. He isn’t thinking clearly. Iwaizumi is nice. He wouldn’t be so callous to him.

“Kageyama, I am sorry but you must hurry,” Ushijima says, much more softly. Kageyama swallows but nods. He can’t bear to look at the tank where he knows Oikawa is struggling. Instead, he just settles back and takes in as much of Ushijima as he can.

He can hear Oikawa coughing. His voice sounds hoarser. Kageyama hitches his shoulders up, guarding, praying Iwaizumi won’t grab him again. The fear is almost enough to constrict his throat for him.

He tries to slip more of Ushijima in but he can’t help but gag. He pulls back and coughs.

“Kageyama try to breathe through your nose,” Ushijima murmurs, “You don’t have to move up and down. Simply focus on holding still.”

Kageyama nods slowly. He wipes at his nose. He’s crying, he realizes. He feels pathetic. The rope feels tight against his skin.

“Hurry,” Iwaizumi hisses harshly. Kageyama flinches but obeys, quickly bending down to take in Ushijima. He doesn’t want Iwaizumi to touch him.

He goes more slowly, easing the girth in as best he can. He swallows around, nose flaring. Ushijima lets out another throaty groan and Kageyama feels emboldened to hold still and suck.

“Tooru, are you okay?” Iwaizumi asks desperately.

Oikawa doesn’t answer as far as Kageyama can tell. All he does is cough and heave. Ushijima can see him shake head, not in answer, but in order to get his plastered bangs out of his eyes. He fails at the endeavor.

“Hang in there,” Iwaizumi urges, powerless.

Oikawa lifts his head up then, teeth gritted and eyes hidden under his dark soaked locks. “Shut” —Oikawa inhales desperately—“Up, Iwaizumi!”

Kageyama pulls back to breathe, trying to ignore the splash of Oikawa falling back into the tank. Ushijima puts his hand atop Kageyama’s head, and Kageyama freezes. Instead of shoving him back down, he is just petting him. And he doesn’t hate it. Kageyama looks up at him.

“You’re doing well,” Ushijima says, “A little more.”

Kageyama bites his lip, determination setting into his brow. He dives back in with a bit more ferocity than before.

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says, although his voice sounds strained and winded, “Do you think the screen is implying he must…forgive my crudeness, swallow everything?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer.

“Iwaizumi?”

Kageyama flicks his gaze as best he can, while keeping his lips on Ushijima. Iwaizumi’s expression is vacant and lost in the depths of the tank. He’s not listening.

Kageyama pulls back to take in another breath. The screen says to suck them dry. He doesn’t know what else it could imply. He can not risk Oikawa’s death. He can not.

“I can do it,” he mutters when he takes his next breath.

Ushijima looks at him as if he’s about to protest but Kageyama cuts him off by taking him in all the way to the base. He chokes a little but pushes through the discomfort. He lets his throat constrict and spasm, pulling back only slightly so he doesn’t gag. Ushijima stiffens, letting out another groan.

That is all the warning Kageyama gets before his mouth floods. His eyes widen and he almost pulls completely away, before his stubbornness kicks in. He holds still, trying to swallow it all. Luckily, it’s not as if Ushijima’s been celibate recently.

He pulls away and is able to take in a deep breath.

Ushijima is looking at him and Kageyama doesn’t know what emotion lies in the stone face. Admiration? Concern? Unclear. Kageyama can’t think much about it. He feels dizzy. His face is wet. His tongue feels slimy.

But there isn’t any time.

“Iwaizumi, hurry,” Ushijima orders.

Iwaizumi seems to come out of his daze only when Kageyama forces his robe open himself. He’s also flaccid. Kageyama takes a deep breath, more to push away his thoughts than anything and dives back in.

He’s terrified Iwaizumi will force him down and hold him there. He’s terrified of Iwaizumi. The thought is new and foreign. But Iwaizumi has made it clear the hierarchy of people in his heart.

Kageyama tries not to think about it. Tries to remember how surreal and awful the situation is that has forced Iwaizumi to be like this.

When he tries to pull away Iwaizumi’s hand pushes him back down. Kageyama panics, rearing back quickly and luckily the grip gives away.

“He needs more time to breathe!” Iwaizumi cries.

He’s not looking at Kageyama. Only Ushijima.

“Keep going, Kageyama,” Ushijima says.

Kageyama swallows but returns to Iwaizumi’s cock. He’s smaller than Ushijima, but stretches Kageyama’s lips uncomfortably wide. No hand comes back to rest on Kageyama’s head. He closes his eyes and tries to focus.

“Let go of me!” Iwaizumi shouts.

Kageyama blinks his eyes open to see Ushijima holding Iwaizumi hands away. He immediately feels himself relax. The impact is Iwaizumi is able to slip in deeper, and a moan is pulled from his chest without his permission.

“Let the boy be,” Ushijima snaps harshly.

Kageyama feels his ears redden. He wishes Oikawa were here too and not in danger. Oikawa might even say he was a good boy right now.

Oikawa might die.

Oikawa might be dying.

Kageyama hollows his cheeks, trying to move faster.

And then, sooner rather than later, Iwaizumi comes too. Kageyama is better prepared. He takes him all in, even gives his cock one last suck to make sure he’s gotten every last drop before pulling away.

As he pulls away to take a deep breath he hears the screen let out it’s signature ding. And then the haunting sound of a rope snapping free and one last loud splash.

Kageyama and Iwaizumi both look to see Oikawa’s body falling straight to the bottom of the tank.

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi cries out. He sounds strangled. Kageyama, now that he looks, can tell he’s been crying.

Ushijima, having had more time to recover, is already on his feet. Before Kageyama can even register what he is doing Ushijima has scaled the ladder and jumped into the water.

They watch him swim down to Oikawa’s flailing form and grab him before hauling him up to the surface. They both gasp.

Iwaizumi races to the ladder as well, leaning over the edges to grab the long limp rope still attached to Oikawa. He hauls it in, letting the trail fall back behind him.

Ushijima swims to help, and together they’re able to haul Oikawa up and out. Kageyama helps from the ground to bring Oikawa down to the floor.

The man is still heaving and he is deathly cold to the touch. Once he’s on stable ground, Kageyama gropes for a way to get the binds off Oikawa. They all seem to be attached through buckles, and it takes them several minuts to get them all off.

Oikawa shivers uncontrollably in the heap he’s in once they free him. He doesn’t even have the energy to bring his body into a ball. Ushijima wraps the robe he threw off before diving into the water on top of Oikawa. And when he sees the man has no strength to grip it, wraps him up himself.

Oikawa lets him. No biting words able to come through his clattering teeth. His eyes are heavy. He manges just to turn his face into the crook of Ushijima’s neck. There, he falls asleep.

Iwaizumi kicks the wall until his foot goes numb.

Chapter Text

Oikawa doesn’t wake up for a long time. Iwaizumi doesn’t know if its the fact time feels slow in the white tiled room, or if it’s been literal years since he’s heard Oikawa’s voice. Regardless, the man remains bundled up on the floor, his chest moving rhythmically with his breaths.

Kageyama hasn’t spoken either. He sits by Oikawa’s sleeping form and keeps his gaze on the floor. Iwaizumi can’t bring himself to talk to the boy. Guilt and self loathing wreak havoc on his guts.

Ushijima is using the ladder by the tank to practice pull ups.

Iwaizumi knows he’s next. He longs for it. A reprieve from the guilt of being the inflictor. All things considered, he, out of everyone present, had been given the most leniency. If anything, he’d failed his own task and Oikawa had taken the brunt of the pain.

He was supposed to be reliable. An ace. A protector. But all he had done so far is hurt.

He can’t stand it.

He glares at the dark screen as if demanding it alight to punish him.

Punish me, he thinks, hurt me. Make this fair.

The screen beeps.

Ushijima lets go of the ladder.

Kageyama looks up.

Oikawa does not stir.

Room 7: Iwaizumi Hajime make them all yours, mark them up, don’t let them make a single noise.

Fail Condition: Ushijima’s tongue shall be severed.

And with those words, a new doorway opens in the wall.

Ushijima’s lips press into a thin line.

Kageyama nudges at Oikawa, but the man does not awaken. Iwaizumi moves, but Ushijima is faster, picking up the sleeping man in one easy motion. He cradles him in his arms and Iwaizumi hates it.

He says nothing.

They all move on to the next room.

The next room is smaller but with a greater amount of space for them to move. A large wooden table sits in the middle, with ominous shackles attached at each edge. Beside it sits a cabinet. Otherwise the room is empty.

The screen in this room repeats the same order, and below it another countdown. This time, for 2 hours.

It has already begun.

Ushijima sets Oikawa carefully back down on the floor. He nudges at him again, a bit more sternly, and finally Oikawa’s eyes flutter open. He looks dazed but after several more blinks, the color starts to return to his face.

“Already?” he murmurs. His voice is quiet and hoarse. He sounds younger than he is. He is young. Freshly eighteen. They are all young. Ushijima feels his hands fist at his sides. He wants to go home. He can’t. Instead, he just nods and motions with his head toward the screen.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say to Oikawa so he busies himself by opening up the cabinet.

He wishes he hadn’t.

There’s what looks to be a portable propane gas burner on the bottom largest shelf. Beside that sits a roll of sterile wipes. Above it, a long steel rod. Next to that, a wooden case. He takes it, but in the process the steel rod rolls off and clatters to the tile floor in a loud clang.

He pales.

The end of the rod flattenes out into a disk. It’s more of a ring, with the center cut out except for two shapes that, upon sickeningly closer inspection look like an I and an H.

He swallows and picks up the rod to take a closer look.

It’s a brand.

It’s a brand with his initials on it.

He can’t do this.

He won’t do this.

He’d rather pull it on himself.

Kageyama takes the wooden case from Iwaizumi and opens it up to find a series of clamps, needles and two small metal rings.

“What is this stuff?” Kageyama asks.

“Let me see,” Oikawa croaks.

Kageyama obliges, dutifully carrying the case to where Oikawa sits. Oikawa purses his lips, glancing back up at the screen. “I think, these over here are piercings. Nipple piercings. This must be a kit to, to uh, do it.”

Ushijima frowns, rubbing at his already sore chest at just the thought. “Are there more pairs? Or is Iwaizumi to choose who will receive these?”

“The command is plural,” Oikawa says, ‘There must be more.”

“Whoever doesn’t get those,” Iwaizumi hisses, coming over, “Gets….gets this.”

He hands the rod to Oikawa but can’t bare to be there when the man realizes what it is. Instead, he moves to kick at the wall beneath the screen as if that may somehow force it to change its instructions or better yet, turn off completely.

Oikawa doesn’t realize what it is. Ushijima does.

“This is insane,” he says, “Unsanitary. Dangerous. Inhumane.”

“What is it?” Kageyama asks.

Oikawa traces his fingers along the end of the rod, realization turning his face into a grim line after a long moment. And then he squints, anger surging in him, paranoia flooding his sense, and he sets his eyes upon Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Why does this have your initials?” Oikawa asks, gathering the strength to stand up, “How did they prepare this? How far ahead did they know we would be here. Why you?”

Iwaizumi looks over at him, “How would I know?”

Oikawa stares at him. Hard.

Iwaizumi’s face crumbles, “You can’t be serious.” He shakes his head, “Tooru, that makes no sense! You think I’d….I’d be a part of this?”

Oikawa looks away, a bit disgusted with himself, but unable to shake away the thought completely. It settles in his gut, fermenting in acid. Because it isn’t fair. Each round grows more and more unfair.

“What is it?” Kageyama asks again.

“How do we decide who gets which?” Ushijima continues instead of answering, “There is only one pair of piercings. But all three of us are included in the orders.”

“What’s the other thing?” Kageyama begs to know.

Oikawa tightens his grip on the rod in his hand, “Well, we know who doesn’t have to suffer at all this round,” he spits, unable to keep all the poison inside him.

Iwaizumi wilts completely to the floor, a sad heap with his fists trembling on the tiles. But he has nothing to say. Oikawa turns away from him and looks up at Ushijima instead. His gaze is firm unlike the state of his shaking hands. “Tobio-chan is not getting branded.”

“Branded?” Kageyama squeaks.

Ushijima swallows thickly and after a moment gives an acquiescing nod, “Agreed.”

Oikawa snorts, and it’s the closest he’s come to smiling in a long time.

“Branded?” Kageyama repeats.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa sings instead, “Have you ever gotten your ears pierced?”

The boy shakes his head.

Oikawa tuts, “Well, it only hurts for a moment. Probably. Anyway come here.”

Kageyama looks terrified, but regardless, he steps up to Oikawa’s side.

“Good boy,” Oikawa replies, and Kageyama feels better immediately.

“I assume this is here to keep us still,” Ushijima says, examining the table.

Oikawa nods, taking hold of one of the shackles, which, upon closer inspection, is just a thick leather strap with a metal buckle. They look similar to the bindings that had surrounded him. In the tank. The darkness and sudden attack when the door had shut in front of him. The disorientation. The efficiency of his bondage and then sudden drop into water. The coldness. The darkness. The pain.

He shudders. His hands shake. He takes a deep breath. He tries to push back the fear.

“Tobio-chan, can you hop up on here?”

Kageyama nods, using his hands to hoist himself up onto the table. He scooches himself into the center and, with Oikawa’s coaxing hand on his chest, lays down on his back.

Ushijima digs through the cabinet for anything else. He frowns. “There is nothing to, to gag him with.”

“That would be too easy wouldn’t it?” Oikawa sighs. He keeps his focus on Kageyama, taking hold of one of his wrists and guiding it up above his head to buckle in place. Kageyama stares at him as he does so, doing his best to not to look like the scared child he is. Oikawa can’t hold his gaze for long.

“Kageyama can you be sure not to make a noise?” Ushijima asks.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Oikawa replies for him, moving on to the other arm. Ushijima looks unconvinced and Oikawa supposed he can’t blame him. It’s Ushijima’s tongue on the line.

“I won’t scream,” Kageyama says, gritting his teeth and looking up to stare at the ceiling.

“Good boy,” Oikawa murmurs, without even thinking. The words just slip out of him now, but he can almost feel the way the boy seems to preen at the positive attention. It’s cute. He pats his head before moving down to this legs.

Iwaizumi has not moved.

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says, “Do you know how to do this?”

Iwaizumi does not move.

Ushijima frowns, “Iwaizumi, we do not have time to waste.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. He gets up slowly, numbly, and makes his way back over to the table where Kageyama is tied down and splayed. His stomach swirls. Ushijima moves beside him with the case. “We should do our best to disinfect these needles. I can set up the propane flame to do so.”

“Have you done this before, Ushiwaka?” Oikawa asks, moving back to Kageyama’s side and undoing the knot of his robe. He asks it as a tease but Ushijima nods sincerely.

“I have done similar things to cattle.”

Oikawa’s lips purse into an o shape and decides not to comment. Instead, he tugs Kageyama’s robe open, so his chest is bare to the world. He can see the quick breaths the poor boy is taking. His panic is clear to him.

He’s going to end up screaming.

Oikawa bites his lip.

“Do I have to be tied down?” Kageyama suddenly asks, testing his binds.

“Do you want Iwaizumi to stab you somewhere else if you move?” Oikawa counters.

Kageyama grows still.

Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa, caught off guard by the name. His full name. He hates how much it hurts to hear it from Oikawa’s mouth. He turns to Ushijima and narrows his eyes at the needles in the case, “Walk me through this.”

While Ushijima and Iwaizumi get to work on sterilizing the needles, Oikawa stays by Kageyama’s side. The boy’s breaths  are quickening with each anticipated moment. His face remains grimly set on the ceiling.

Oikawa puts a hand on his heaving chest, and the boy startles. Oikawa shushes him. At first he’d only meant to urge the boy to breathe by the motion, but now that his hand is here, on the smooth toned skin, he sees another potential issue to mitigate.

His hand migrates to the left, long fingers gliding along Kageyama’s nipples. The boy practically jumps, legs jolting in place.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa snaps, perhaps more roughly than necessary, “You can’t move.”

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks, straining to lift his head up to look.

“Iwaizumi needs something to pierce, doesn’t he?” Oikawa responds, flicking his gaze back to Kageyama’s chest. He brings his hand back to the nipple, pinching it almost clinically. Kageyama lets out a strained squeak and Oikawa almost smiles.

Slowly, the nub comes to life beneath his fingers, but he doesn’t stop. He rolls between his fingers, even gives it a firm pinch. Kageyama flushes, snapping his head to the side and letting out another muffled noise.

“You have to be quiet, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa reminds. He says it teasingly despite how necessary the order is.

Iwaizumi and Ushijima return to the table and Oikawa moves his hand to the other nipple. He decides to bend down, close to Kageyama’s face, “I’ll tell you when,” Oikawa whispers.

Kageyama stares at him. He winces, as Iwaizumi takes his erect nipple and secures the clamps over it. His neck strains back, gritting his teeth.

Oikawa glances back at Iwaizumi’s shaky hand holding the needle, the other gripping tightly to the clamp.

Ushijima looks pale behind him.

If Kageyama shouts, Ushijima loses his tongue.

What do you even care, a thought pops up in the back of Oikawa’s mind, It’s not like Ushiwaka has ever said anything worth hearing.

Iwaizumi stabs the needle through. Oikawa sees it slowly. He works without thinking. He rushes forward and grabs Kageyama’s face in his hands and swallows any possible sounds that could come out of him.

Oikawa has only ever kissed Iwaizumi. Even after the countless hours in this hell doing unspeakable things to each other, they haven’t crossed this boundary. And here he is, willingly pressing his lips to his stupid, stupid kohai’s.

When he pulls back, Kageyama looks at him dazed.

When Oikawa looks over at Iwaizumi he looks just as shocked. Looks like he’s about to say something.

Oikawa doesn’t want to hear it, “Hurry up and do the next one!”

Iwaizumi blinks. Oikawa looks away, still holding Kageyama’s face in his hands, and leans back in.

Kageyama is less tense this time, but just as unmoving. It’s like kissing a dead fish. Wet, slimy, and unresponsive. Or at least at first.

Kageyama has always been a quick learner when it comes to the body. It’s his tongue that swipes across Oikawa’s lips this time, shocking him enough to open up and give the boy the upper hand. He falters though, most likely as the needle pierces him, and Oikawa gets to claim his mouth.

When they pull back Kageyama is heaving, his face completely burnt. And Oikawa does smile then. He even lets out the lightest of chuckles.

Kageyama gapes at him.

Oikawa simply moves to unbuckle his bindings.

“Easy parts done,” he announces.

“Oikawa—,” Iwaizumi starts.

Oikawa ignores him, looking at Ushijima instead, “Any preference on who goes first, Ushiwaka?”

Ushijima swallows, “I have branded cattle. I feel I should walk Iwaizumi through it for the first time.”

Oikawa nods. Kageyama is still sitting their, rubbing his wrists and trying his best not to look down at the metal rings dangling from his red and sore nipples. He looks like he might faint, but time is of the essence. He tries to close his robe, but even the soft fabric against his chest is enough to have him shuddering. Ushijima helps him climb off the table.

Oikawa hops up and lays himself down.

Ushijima stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “The more fat the less it will hurt. We should have you turn around.”

“I’m not doing this,” Iwaizumi says, “I’m not branding you. Either of you. This is insane.”

“Iwaizumi I would rather have a burn than lose the ability to speak,” Ushijima replies.

“I can’t,” Iwaizumi pleads, “I won’t.”

“Get over yourself,” Oikawa growls, making a point to turn and shove his robe off with little ceremony, “All you have to do is hold it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Iwaizumi insists.

“That didn’t stop you before!” Oikawa shouts right back, and he hates the way his voice cracks. He hates the way now that he’s on all fours they can see the marks of the whip along his back and ass. Most of all he just hates himself.

Useless.

Pathetic.

“Just hurry up,” he hisses, “We’re running out of time.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond.

Oikawa rests his forehead on his forearm. Someone straps his ankles into the shackles. He doesn’t let them tie his wrists. He can’t stand being bound again completely, even for a moment. He promises he won’t move. Something in his steely gaze has them believing it.

The heat of the propane flame can be felt even from this distance. He swallows.

Kageyama appears by his face.

“Do you need…” he starts, awkwardly, still flushed.

How dare Kageyama Tobio be so sweet?

“Don’t worry, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa replies, “I’m made of much stronger stuff than you.”

Kageyama frowns but decides to stay close.

A hand presses against Oikawa’s back. Ushijima’s he guesses. Making sure he stays still.

“Prepare yourself,” is all the warning Oikawa gets from Ushijima before hot searing iron is pressed against his ass.

He almost screams, but is quick enough to bite down on his forearm. His vision whitens. The world deafens. He feels like he’s in the blindfold again, confused, hurt, and his skin is on fire. He tries to jolt away, but Ushijima holds him firm.

Copper floods his mouth but all he can do is bite down harder. Salt runs onto his tongue from his streaming eyes.

And then the iron leaves and he collapses onto his stomach. Someone takes his arm out of his mouth, and through his bleary eyes he can see the blood streaming down over skin.

He can hear Iwaizumi cursing and apologizing. He sounds far away. Why is he so far away?

A water bottle is held to his mouth and he drinks. He wishes it was cold and not lukewarm. Anything to distract from the fire burning his ass.

“Oikawa, can you stand?” Ushijima asks, and Oikawa doesn’t know, but he nods. Someone’s still got a hold of his arm and now that he can open his eyes more he sees that Kageyama has ripped the tie off his robe to wrap around Oikawa’s bleeding wound.

His skin stretches uncomfortable when he gets down from the table. He realizes that no he cant stand. Not at all. So, as gracefully as he can, he falls down onto the floor to lay on his stomach.

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi cries.

“Don’t!” Oikawa shouts back, wondering if banging his head against the floor would give him a reprieve from the constant burn, “Just hurry up and end this!”

“He’s right,” Ushijima says, “Kageyama, stay with Oikawa. We will be quick.”

“Do you need—”

“No, you have given me an idea,” Ushijima cuts the boy off, as he slips off his robe to climb onto the table. However, he grabs the tie from his robe, folding it in half and in half again, so on and so forth until it’s small and thick in his hands.

“Iwaizumi, do as I just instructed you,” Ushijima orders. Iwaizumi looks hollow, his gaze far off and his eyes glassy. Ushijima has to shout his name several times before Iwaizumi finally acknowledges him.

With that, Ushijima shoves the makeshift gag into his ow mouth and bites.

Oikawa can not be bothered to care what is happening above him. All he can think about is the pain of his ass. The fiery agony. All he wants to do is scream and cry and sob. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed. He does not know if that would be considered a failure if he does.

“Tobio,” he hisses—pleads—really, with an outstretched hand. Kageyama doesn’t comment on it. He just appears, obediently in front of his face, eyebrows earnest and drawn tight against his eyes.

Oikawa grabs at him. He feels disgustingly needy. Pathetic. Worthless. How low of him, to use this boy for comfort. But he can’t help it. He drags Kageyama’s obedient body down and kisses him again.

He sobs into the kiss, hoping Kageyama is able to swallow the noise. He shakes, fingers digging into Kageyama’s hair. The boy’s own hands move to Oikawa’s face, and he does not pull away. If anything he pushes impossibly closer, like Kageyama has wanted to do this for a long time.

He’s much more animated this time. Greedily swallowing down every pained noise that Oikawa lets out. Oikawa has no strength to take the lead, but Kageyama forces his way through by determination alone. Their teeth clack occasionally, but what Kageyama lacks in skill he makes up for in passion. In the need to get it right.

Oikawa actually moans, into the kiss, the soft feeling a blessed reprieve. He’s so preoccupied that he barely registers the ding of the screen.

Chapter Text

Ushijima does not remember the last time he has cried. It must have been when he broke his ankle in elementary school. Ushijima Wakatoshi does not cry.

He cries now.

The pain is fiery and hot and all consuming. Even long after the iron is gone it is agonizing. He can not stop the stream of tears from his eyes, even as he grits his teeth and refuses to make a sound. Even after the ding allows them to scream he refuses.

Oikawa is similar to him. His face is also wet. He stifles his whimpers with curses and an incessant need for Kageyama’s lips. Ushijima wonders if it helps. If Kageyama is like a salve. If it could give him any of the reprieve he is desperate for.

Iwaizumi has said nothing. The moment the screen dinged Ushijima heard him throw the iron rod at the wall in a loud upsetting clang. Ushijima does not know what he is doing now. He does not have the strength to lift his head from the table.

His face is turned to the side as he takes in his ragged breaths, eyes staring at Oikawa and Kageyama on the ground beneath him. Oikawa desperate and miserable. Kageyama almost ravenous.

If he wasn’t in so much pain the sight might have stirred something in him. For now his vision grows hazy and blackness invades all corners, until there is no more.

And he feels nothing.

When Ushijima awakens he is surrounded by softness. He lays on his stomach, atop a thick comforter of a massive bed. He can’t help the pleased moan that rumbles out of his chest. The luxury. How he had missed these simple pleasures.

His ass still burns, but the pain is manageable now. His skin feels tight and taught. He turns his head to breathe better only to find Oikawa’s sleeping face beside him. His skin is pale and smooth, thick eyelashes laying prettily on his cheeks.

Oikawa is beautiful, Ushijima can’t help but think. If he was not so tired, he would lift his hand to touch his brown hair.

He turns his head to look to his other side but sees empty bed space. Kageyama’s face appears in Ushijima’s view, “Are you okay?”

Ushijima licks his dry lips. “I am better.”

Kageyama nods, “There’s water. Can you sit up?”

Ushijima lifts himself up onto all fours, despite the stretching of the burned skin on his ass. He grits his teeth. He won’t be able to sit for a while.  Nor stand. “How did I get here?” he asks,  pitching foreward to rest on his forearms.

“Iwaizumi-san carried you,” Kageyama responds, “After he carried Oikawa-san.”

Ushijima can’t help but be impressed.

A water bottle is thrust into his hand and he takes it. He gulps it down, feeling his parched throat rejuvenate with the river flowing down it.

“Where is Iwaizumi?” Ushijima asks.

Kageyama frowns, scratching his arm, “He’s on the other side of the room. He slept over there.”

Ushijima hands the empty bottle back and lies back down on his stomach. He is exhausted. Their moments of relaxation are so brief, he must take advantage of them.

He feels drowsiness begin to take him again, muddling his thoughts. With the pain of his ass duller, he notices the pressure in his chest more and more. He decides to turn completely onto his side. His non-branded side, so he is facing Oikawa’s sleeping form.

He rubs his chest and feels the growing familiarity of his swollen nipples and the little beads of milk slipping his skin.

“Kageyama,” he murmurs, sleep making his voice all that much deeper.

Kageyama moves a bit closer, and as carefully as he can weasels his way between the two sleepy men. Ushijima does not open his eyes, he simply lifts his hand to cup the back of Kageyama’s head and guide him to his chest.

Kageyama latches, almost instinctively and begins to drink.

Ushijima lets out a drowsy moan, the pressure in his chest releasing, as he falls back into a deep sleep.

Iwaizumi looks at the screen with dull eyes.

Room 8: Ushijima Wakatoshi can not cum. He can not wake. But you all must use him, fill him and paint him white.

Fail Condition: Iwaizumi Hajime will be beheaded.

Iwaizumi has the urge to just wake Ushijima up. He wonders how fast it would happen. Would a blade swing from the void of the ceiling and end this? Would it set everything right?

No, he reminds himself, the others would still be trapped. Again you would have gotten off easy. Again.

He hates himself.

He’s never really hated himself, he realizes. Not until this moment, when he looks at the three sleeping men on the bed. When he sees the pink scarring on two of them, blaring back his initials. His doing.

He hates himself.

He should have taken the iron onto himself.

The timer starts.

He closes his eyes and takes in a breath before nudging Oikawa’s shoulder.

The man groans and Iwaizumi resists the urge to cover his mouth. Instead, he just presses a finger to his own lips, a message, be quiet.

Oikawa squints at him, and Iwaizumi hates the animosity he feels radiating toward him. At least Oikawa won’t be hurt this room. He’ll make sure of it.

Oikawa glances over at the screen, and after a moment lets out a silent sigh. He nods, and does his best to sit up. He grits his teeth, pain surging up his spine, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, “You don’t have to move. You can be last,” he whispers.

And then Oikawa does something Iwaizumi has never seen him do. Ever. He looks down. He doesn’t put up a fight.

He gives up.

“Okay,” he says softly, laying back down.

Iwaizumi wants to say more but Oikawa has decided to turn his face the other way.

He’s looking at Kageyama.

Iwaizumi’s stomach squirms.

Oikawa lifts his hand to brush at the hair at the nape of Kageyama’s neck. He does it tenderly and Iwaizumi hates it.

Kageyama turns, drowsily, blinking his blue eyes at Oikawa. Oikawa points up at the screen so that Kageyama can read it himself.

“Okay,” he says quietly when he finishes.

“I think each of us has to do one of those things,” Oikawa whispers, “Someone uses him. Someone fills him. Someone paints him.”

“Paint?” Kageyama questions.

“Don’t worry about it,” Oikawa shushes. He looks at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi wishes he would never look away. He misses those brown eyes. He misses Oikawa.

“How do we make sure he doesn’t cum?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa looks back at the screen, “Is there anything in this room?”

“I can look,” Kageyama offers.

Oikawa stops him with a hand on his shoulders, “We shouldn’t move. We might wake him.”

Iwaizumi swallows and takes the cue. The room he had moved everyone into was small, almost entirely taken up by the giant bed. He places his hands against the walls, trying to see if anything comes lose. There are no cabinets. No loose tiles. Nothing.

Just the bed.

The bed.

He crouches down and looks under and finds a small little box.

He opens it up. There’s a bottle of lube—a mercy they haven’t been afforded in what feels like ages—and a ring too big for a finger.

Ah.

He sets the little box down on the edge of the bed. Kageyama carefully extricates himself from between Oikawa and Ushijima to crawl over.

“Kageyama.”

Kageyama flinches, even though Iwaizumi is whispering, and the sight makes him sick.

“What do you want to do?” Iwaizumi pushes through, “do you want to…” he falters. Even now, he can’t help getting tongue tied around these topics, especially when Kageyama’s gaze is so blank and all-consuming.

“Tobio,” Oikawa whispers, not bothering to lift his head, “He’s asking if you want to fuck or be fucked.”

Kageyama reddens, squeezing the sheets beneath his fingers.

“I’m not as heavy as Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama mumbles, grabbing the bottle of lube from the case. “He won’t wake up with me on top of him.”

“How clever,” Oikawa murmurs.

Kageyama reddens more, but his hands shake less as he unscrews the cap.

Iwaizumi swallows, “Do you need help—”

Kageyama shakes his head quickly, practically rearing back and away from Iwaizumi. “I can do it.”

Iwaizumi frowns.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa says, like a knife in his heart, “Get Ushiwaka hard.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi says, after a moment. He hesitates, watching Kageyama lay back beside Oikawa and spread his legs. Oikawa’s lips so close to Kageyama’s ear, his hand placed a top the boy’s metallic nipples.

Iwaizumi squeezes his hands into fists.

He climbs onto the bed carefully, moving to Ushijima’s other side. The man is still sleeping.

But he’s on his side.

Iwaizumi bites his lip.

Slowly, carefully, he places a hand on Ushijima’s shoulder. He bites his lip, puling the man until he rolls onto his back. He waits, fearful the fresh brand will making this position impossible for Ushijima to stay asleep in. Luckily he doesn’t stir. He must be exhausted. That, or the plush bed and comforter is providing enough support to keep the pressure from centering on the wound.

Iwaizumi pulls Ushijima’s robe to the side and doesn’t waste any more time.

He wraps his hand around Ushijima’s cock and tenses, staring intently at the man’s face. Ushijima’s face is stone. Iwaizumi lets his hand glide up and down, slowly, carefully. It feels clinical. Ushijima’s face remains passive.

He hears a shaky, breathy whine.

It’s not Ushijima.

“You must be quiet, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa whispers.

He’s got his hand on the boy’s cheek, forcing Kageyama to turn his face toward him. Iwaizumi can’t see him from this vantage point, but from how red Kageyama’s ears are he can only imagine.

Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed.

Kageyama’s hand is in between his legs. He’s got two fingers in him, and Iwaizumi realizes he’s getting hard just from watching.

Oikawa looks at him from over Kageyama’s shoulder. His brown eyes are dark. Iwaizumi swallows.

And then Oikawa kisses Kageyama, again, without taking his eyes off Iwaizumi.

It hurts.

It’s also, undeniably, really fucking hot.

Iwaizumi tears his eyes away to focus back on Ushijima. He pumps him, watching as the cock slowly stiffens in his loose grip. Once he’s half hard he takes the cock ring and rolls it down the shaft until it fits snugly at the base.

Ushijima’s eyebrows furrow, but other than that, he remains asleep.

“No, Tobio,” Oikawa hisses, hand moving from the boy’s face to grab his lubed hand, imprisoning it in his hold, “You can’t cum yet.”

Kageyama swallows, thickly. His chest is heaving and he’s trying his hardest to be quiet.

“Oikawa-san,” he whispers and it almost sounds like he’s begging to Iwaizumi’s ears.

Oikawa’s dark gaze flicks to Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi shudders. But he gets the message. He grabs Kageyama’s arm and leads him away from Oikawa and helps him to straddle Ushijima. The boy feels like jelly in his arms.

“You have to be quiet,” Iwaizumi reminds, hands digging into Kageyama’s hips as he lines him up, “Try not to touch him.”

Kageyama nods. His eyes are teary. His blush runs down all the way to his chest. Iwaizumi has him facing away from Ushijima, so that Iwaizumi can also straddle Ushijima’s legs and offer Kageyama some leverage. Kageyama places his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and, without much ceremony, sinks down onto Ushijima’s cock.

He does it slowly because Iwaizumi has the control here. He can tell Kageyama is impatient. Wants to get it over with. But Iwaizumi holds his hips tight enough to bruise, forcing him to sink slowly down.

“If you need to make a noise,” Iwaizumi whispers, “Bite my shoulder.”

Kageyama doesn’t even trust himself to respond verbally. He just lets his forehead fall to the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck as his body shakes.

From over Kageyama’s shoulder, Iwaizumi can watch Ushijima’s face. His mouth has parted, but that is the only noticeable change.

He picks up the pace. His muscles strain as he lifts Kageyama up only to control the speed of his descent back down. Kageyama’s breath hitches against his shoulder. His spit or tears is starting to rain on his skin.

Kageyama’s fingers dig into Iwaizumi’s back as he lets out his ragged puffs of breath. The noise is amplified so close to Iwaizumi’s ear, and it is deafening.

Still, Ushijima does not stir.

“Ah,” Kageyama can’t help but hiss, back arching slightly. Iwaizumi growls, and the sound of it makes Kageyama tense up and squeeze. Ushijima lets out a gasp.

They all freeze. Iwaizumi holds his breath.

Ushijima turns his head to the side, but does nothing more.

Iwaizumi pushes Kageyama back down. The boy whimpers, silencing himself by mouthing at Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi thinks about kissing Kageyama to shut him up. Thinks about how Oikawa keeps kissing him. Why does he keep kissing him when it’s not necessary? Why? Is he messing with him? Does he like it?

Kageyama let’s out another quiet gasp.

Iwaizumi lifts him almost entirely off Ushijima’s cock, and drives him all the way back down.

Kageyama chokes out a sob into Iwaizumi’s shoulder when he cums. Iwaizumi almost topples over when Kageyama falls onto him, but he’s able to catch the shaking boy and keep them both on the bed. Kageyama groans quietly and Iwaizumi works to lift him off Ushijima’s cock.

He lays Kageyama back down near Oikawa and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Oikawa is staring at him. Iwaizumi waits for him to say something, but Oikawa doesn’t. Just looks away, taking the edge of his robe to wipe at Kageyama’s cum splotched stomach.

Iwaizumi leaves them after grabbing the bottle of lube, pouring some onto his fingers before moving to Ushijima’s legs.

He frowns, carefully taking hold of Ushijima’s calf and lifting it up, letting it bends at the knee. He hooks the ankle onto his shoulder.

When he looks back up, Oikawa is there.

He almost shouts in surprise but catches himself. Oikawa kneels beside Ushijima’s body now, and he helps lift up the man’s other leg, constantly checking to make sure Ushijima remains asleep.

“I don’t think he’s ever been fucked,” Oikawa whispers.

“Do you want to?” Iwaizumi asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Oikawa shakes his head, “You’ll do a good job. You always do.” Is that a tease of a smile?

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi croaks and he wants to talk. He wants to tell him he loves him. He wants to apologize. He wants to make things okay. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know what t say.

So he says nothing.

Oikawa looks away, “Hurry up and fuck him, Iwa-chan. We don’t have much time left.”

Iwaizumi bites his lip, and gets to work stretching the sleeping man out. Ushijima is tight, very tight, and the angle isn’t fantastic. That and he can’t help pausing every second to make sure he’s still asleep.

Once he’s able to scissor his two fingers comfortably he deems it enough. He slathers his own cock, embarrassingly hard from watching Kageyama, and lines himself up.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he slips into Ushijima’s heat. He bites his lip, pitching forward to squeeze the sheets instead of Ushijima’s thighs. He hears Ushijima make a muted noise, head tilting back. He waits, fighting every urge to thrust. He can feel Oikawa’s eyes on him.

“Fuck him,” Oikawa hisses. He sounds hungry and Iwaizumi looks up at him to find him palming himself. He’s hard. Very hard. Maybe he has been the whole time. “Hurry up, he’s gonna wake up eventually. As long as we both cum before that, we’re fine.”

Iwaizumi takes in a deep breath and nods, pulling back just to thrust back in. He still does it slowly, trying to create a rhythm that won’t make Ushijima stir. Regardless, he’s definitely responding. His breaths coming a bit quicker and his eyebrows furrowing.

Iwaizumi keeps his head down as he thrusts, and all he can see is the angry red of Ushjima’s stiff cock, leaking precum and waiting impatiently for release. How has that not woken him up?’

Ushijima makes an aborted noise, head twisting to the other side. What’s he dreaming of, Iwaizumi wonders. A nightmare? What could be worse than where they are?

“God,” Oikawa hisses, and when Iwaizumi looks at him he sees he’s as red as Kageyama had been. His hand is tight around his own cock, pumping in time to Iwaizumi’s thrusts.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi breathes.

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, “Seeing you,” he whispers, voice wet and heavy with his own build up of saliva, “Seeing you fuck Ushiwaka-chan, is so, so fucking hot.”

Iwaizumi groans. He can’t help it. It’s been so long since Oikawa’s given him any sort of positive attention that it may just be that statement alone that drives him over the edge. He spills himself into Ushijima, unable to hold back the exhale of pleased relief.

Oikawa cums too, his semen splattering against Ushijima’s bare chest, even some landing on his chin. A disgusting white tableau.

The screen beeps, loud and startling. Louder than it’s ever beeped before. The shock of it rouses Ushijima up from his slumber, bleary and disoriented.

Iwaizumi lets out a pained noise at how tight Ushijima is around him. He hasn’t yet  managed slipped out.

“Wh-what?” Ushijima says, out of breath. He groans, leg kicking out and almost sending Iwaizumi sprawling.

“We had to fuck you,” Oikawa says quickly, using another edge of his robe to wipe his dirty hand, “While you slept.”

“What?” Ushijima says again, sleep addled mind unable to catch up. “What—”

“Let me—,” Iwaizumi grunts, trying to pull out.

Ushijima groans, thighs moving to squeeze at Iwaizumi’s sides to hold him in. Iwaizumi curses, trying to take in a steadying breath before he cums again too soon. Ushijima convulses around him, needy and hot and it is too much.

“Why,” Ushijima starts, chest heaving harder now as he grows more alert, “It, God.”

Oikawa seems to understand better than even Ushijima, what he’s trying to communicate, “You need to cum, dont you, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Ushijima’s eyes flutter open and closed again as he arches, “Yes,” he hisses, almost like a prayer has been answered.

Oikawa snorts, leaning forward to slide the thick black ring off Ushijima’s straining cock. The man actually shouts then, and when Iwaizumi shifts, he cums, hard, and suddenly. It doesn’t look pleasurable. It looks like it was ripped right out of him.

Iwaizumi curses as Ushijima tightens even more around him before finally going completely limp. Then and only then is he finally able to slip out.

Ushijima is breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut and one hand pushing his sweaty bangs back and off his face. After a few moments he seems to finally regain himself. Sticky and full and sweaty. “In my sleep?” he asks, mind wrapping around the words as he says them.

“That’s what it said,” Oikawa replies.

But when Ushijima looks at the screen there’s nothing there. He just has to trust them. He trusts them. Right?

Why?

Why should he trust them?

He doesn’t know them.

They are rivals. He only met Kageyama a few weeks ago. The only persn here he may consider a friend is Oikawa. But Oikawa has never been trustworthy.

“I didn’t know you would—” Ushijima starts, but it’s a dumb statement. It’s not like the others wanted to do what they did. Right? He doesn’t know. What even did they do? He can feel what Iwaizumi has done to his insides, but who else? For how long?

His voice is strained as he tries to find the words to understand the sudden crashing wave of emotion in his gut. They’re too complicated for him to fully understand.

Ushijima can not remember the last time he cried, but now he seems to be making up for all the lost time.

Chapter Text

Oikawa groans, sore and pained. His ass still stings, but there’s not much he can do about it. When he blinks his eyes open he finds Iwaizumi and Kageyama nuzzling into his shoulders on either side of him.

He wants to go back to sleep.

He sits up instead, realizing the glow of the screen in the room is what woke him up to begin with. He rubs his eyes, seeing that Ushijima is sitting in the corner of the room. He looks as stone faced as ever—an improvement from the crying he had witnessed earlier.

He always thought the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi in tears would fill him with glee.

It didn’t.

It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He looks at the screen,

Choose your side.

He blinks, squinting at the screen in non-understanding. What could that even mean? What side? He nudges at both Kageyama and Iwaizumi, sleeping on either side of them, but neither stir. They must be exhausted. They all are. There’s no timer on the screen and so Oikawa decides to leave them be.

Instead he crawls out of bed, hissing as his legs stretch the skin around his brand. He takes in a breath and keeps walking.

Ushijima watches him.

When Oikawa reaches him, Ushijima actually flinches and Oikawa is taken aback. He does not think he’s ever seen Ushijima flinch. He pauses. He takes in his red eyes, and the strain of his hands fisting into each other and frowns.

But he doesn’t know what to say to Ushijima. He’s never been nice to Ushijima. He doesn’t really want to start, even as the sight of him so undone tugs at his heart.

“Did you read the screen?” Oikawa asks.

Ushijima nods.

And then a loud mechanic screech.

Kageyama shouts himself away and Iwaizumi springs up. Oikawa and Ushijima booth whirl around, just in time to see a wall fall straight down from the ceiling bisecting the room in half.

Oikawa curses, banging the wall. He should have known. He’d walked over to Ushijima’s side of the room. He’d picked a side. Stupid. Stupid.

“Are they going to be alright?” Ushijima asks, and Oikawa doesn’t want to think about it.

“Iwa-chan can handle anything,” Oikawa lies.

Ushijima believes him. A new screen turns on in their small room ordering them to move forward. They walk slowly, legs still bearing the brunt of the pain of their matching brands. Oikawa almost wants to laugh at the absurdity. What would his past self had thought of him now? Walking side by side with Ushijima, limping and half naked?

Who was that past self? How long has it been, stuck in this labyrinth? Days? Weeks? Months?

Oikawa doesn’t want to think about it.

They reach the end of the corridor to a door. Oikawa opens it and the room before them is tinier than their last, but well furnished. There’s a nice double bed with plushy pink comforter, a heart shaped shaggy rug underfoot that feels like heaven on the soles of his feet, but most excitingly of all: a hot tub.

“Is this a trap?” Ushijima says warily. “I do not understand. What are we being rewarded for?”

Oikawa hates that he agrees with Ushijima. Something’s not right. He frowns, looking around for any clues. He’s distracted, when of the walls flashes on to illuminate a new screen.

Room 9: The Honeymoon Suite

Enjoy yourselves to the fullest and bring yourselves to completion.  If your experience is not to your satisfaction, we will forward your complaints.

The tiles on the opposite wall begin to shift and rotate, spreading apart to reveal translucent glass underneath. It’s a window, but not to the outside world they both long to see. No, this window faces into the adjacent room.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shouts, pressing his face into the glass. Iwaizumi has been strapped down into a seat, teeth gritted and looking as furious as ever. Beside him in another chair is Kageyama, eyes big and terrified. He isn’t strapped down, leading Oikawa to believe Iwaizumi only is because he’s not complying.

Kageyama meets Oikawa’s gaze but can not hold it. He says something that Oikawa can not hear, and then Iwaizumi is looking at him, and the anguish in his green eyes is more than Oikawa can bear.

The screen in their room beeps, and a timer begins for three hours.

“I don’t understand,” Ushijima says, digging the heel of his palm into his eye, “What are we meant to do?”

“Enjoy ourselves,” Oikawa parrots, tearing his eyes away from Iwaizumi. He can still feel his gaze burning his back regardless.

“How can we enjoy ourselves when we are trapped in this hellscape?” Ushijima spits, anger boiling over. “How dare they ask of us that?”

“Ushiwaka—” Oikawa hisses.

Ushijima shakes his arm off.

A shout blares through a speaker in the room, familiar and pained. They whirl back toward the room to see Kageyama’s wide eyes in his chair. But the room had cut the sound once the pained noise had stopped so they could not hear him speak. Iwaizumi is saying something too now, face turned toward Kageyama.

Oikawa cups his hands around the glass, squinting to try to see. There is more to the chairs than he initially thought. There are cords and wires all around it, inflicting who knows what on them.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa says, “It seems if we don’t get along, they get hurt.”

Ushijima swallows.

“How can we enjoy anything, if we have no choice,” Ushijima hisses. And oh God, he’s starting to cry again. Oikawa stares at him, this giant brick wall of a man, the greatest obstacle in his life, crumbling before him for the second time in less than a day.

What is he supposed to do?

Another scream blares through the speaker in their room, and Oikawa sees Iwaizumi arching in pain in his chair.

Oikawa sinks to his knees and brings Ushijima into his arms with all the strength he has left. “Listen to me,” he whispers into his ears, “I don’t, I don’t have the answers. But we can’t let Iwa-chan and Tobio-chan down.”

But Ushijima isn’t listening. He’s lost in his sleep deprived head, overwhelmed with one emotion too many to come to his senses. It won't be long until the punishments worsen and Oikawa needs to take back control of the situation.

So he does something he never thought he would ever do.

He takes Ushijima’s face between his hands and kisses him.

Ushijima is motionless against him, his cheeks wet from his tears. Oikawa pulls back, “Is that the best you can do?” he asks, forcing his cheekiest of grins.

Ushijima sees through him. He’s not stupid. His eyes dart back over to the adjacent room. He squeezes them shut and pitches forward to kiss Oikawa back.

They sink to the floor like that, with Oikawa’s fingers threading into Ushijima’s hair, and tugging him down.

Ushijima has never kissed anyone, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for in sheer force of will. It’s embarrassing how quickly he summons an honest moan from Oikawa’s throat.

Oikawa pulls away, flushed red, in order to breath. He chances a glance at the other room, but Iwaizumi has turned his gaze away from the window. Oikawa bites his lip.

“Oikawa, the timer,” Ushijima murmurs.

“I know,” Oikawa says, “But we can’t rush it if we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Here, come on, let’s…let’s get in the water. That should relax us.”

“Are you sure?” Ushijima says carefully and Oikawa is surprised by the question. He looks at him with a raised eyebrow, forcing Ushijima to explain, “I don’t think you had an excellent time when you were last submerged in water.”

Oikawa blinks. Oh. Oh. Ushijima was being considerate, is all. Worried. Watchful. Oikawa looks away, “I’ll be fine.”

Oikawa moves to the the hot tub, checking the water and letting out a pleased noise at the warm temperature that hit his fingertips. He slips out of his bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor before easing into the tub with a pleased gasp.

Ushijima follows him soon after, closing his eyes when he sinks into the water. They sit on the seats for a moment, savoring it. Oikawa can feel the tension in his shoulder dissipating, the constant thrum of pain throughout his body diminishing. He could fall asleep here if he wanted, easily.

But he can’t. The timer would run out.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa murmurs, his relaxed mood making his speech slower, “Tell me what you like.”

“Volleyball,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa snorts, “I knew that.” He lifts himself up a bit, so his shoulders are out of the water and he can better appraise his cellmate, “I mean for this challenge. If we have to enjoy ourselves, it might be a good idea to exchange the things we like.”

Ushijima frowns his gaze directing down at the water, “I…I do not have experience, or, I didn’t before—”

Oikawa waves the sentence away, “Even if you were a virgin, you still must have had some preferences.”

Ushijima looks down. Oikawa takes the moment to slide closer.

“I do not know,” Ushijima says, looking back at Oikawa, “What about you?”

Oikawa purses his lips, “Well, I like being pleased.”

“Does Iwaizumi please you?” Ushijima asks.

Oikawa blinks, not expecting the question, “Of course he does.”

Ushijima nods thoughtfully, “I apologize, earlier, for breaking down. I have been…I do not know how to explain it.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Oikawa says. Ushijima nods. “Come here,” Oikawa orders. Ushijima leans forward, and Oikawa captures his lips again. This kiss is much nicer than their first, slower and thorough. The warmth of the water has loosened all the knots in Oikawa’s back to the point he does not mind leaning heavily into Ushijima. To the point he does not mind the taste of him.

“I think,” Ushijima says slowly, when they pull away for breath, “I would very much like to try pleasing you.” He digs his rough fingers into Oikawa’s hips, earning a groan from him as he settles onto the taller’s lap.

Oikawa keeps Ushijima’s mouth occupied with his own, using his hand to guide Ushijima’s down his chest to his cock. It’s all the prodding Ushijima needs before he fists the hardening member in his hand. Oikawa lets out a gasp, breaking apart from the kiss in order to rest his head against Ushijima’s wet shoulder.

“Good?” Ushijima asks quietly.

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his cheeks darkening. Instead of answering he mouths at Ushijima’s slick skin, sinking his teeth into the flesh when Ushijima speed up his hand.

Ushijima lets out a groan, but he tilts his head to the side to give Oikawa more room. Oikawa can’t help the excitement that bubbles in his chest at the invitation to mark up his rival with his teeth. He sets to work, red paintings blossoming beneath his ministration.

“Can—”Ushijima tries, but his words are aborted by another low groan.

Oikawa lifts his head, mindful of the watchful screen’s order,  “Use your words.”

“Bed,” Ushijima supplies, motioning with his head.

Oikawa hums, but he doesn’t move to get off. Instead he sinks in closer, looping his arms tightly around Ushijima’s neck. “Carry me,” he hisses.

Ushijima stands up and Oikawa hurries to wrap his long legs around his torso in order to find purchase. It forces their cocks to press against each other, earning simultaneous moans. Ushijima squeezes Oikawa’s ass to keep him from fallin, carefully not to grab the marred cheek.

The trip t the bed is short. They do not bother drying off, letting the sheets soak up the wetness of the tub. The bed is soft and welcoming, and part of Ushijima simply wants to sleep. He had not slept for more than a day now, he estimates.

“Fuck me,” Oikawa orders, as he lays back against the pillows, opening up his legs. “Don’t you dare come before me.”

There’s no need for lube with what they have been through, and the hot water had relaxed Oikawa’s muscles into jelly.

Ushijima hesitates above him still. Oikawa squirms a bit. “What? Spit it out.”

“Can you…” Ushijima begins, redness coloring his face before he shields it by hanging his head down.

“Can I what?” Oikawa huffs.

Ushijima grits his teeth, and instead of answering, thrusts himself into Oikawa’s heat. Oikawa howls in surprise, back arching as Ushijima manages to slip all the way in. He takes in a gasping breath , fingers curling to grip onto the sheets tightly.

Ushijima pushes impossibly closer, practically folding Oikawa in half in the process. What the hell is he doing? Oikawa tries to complain, forcing his eyes to reopen and glare at the spiker.

But Ushijima isn’t looking at him. He’s sweating, face dark with desire and shame. “Please,” he hisses, and it looks like it kills him t say it.

With this new position, although uncomfortable for Oikawa to be so folded up, his vision is filled with Ushijima’s pecs. His swollen, plump…pecs

Oh.

Oikawa’s mouth goes dry and, almost tentatively, lifts his head to latch onto the nearest nipple. Ushijima shudders, pulling his cock back slightly. Oikawa sucks and Ushijima moans, loud and needy, his cock ramming right back in.

Oikawa almost chokes when milk floods his mouth from the searing heat of Ushijima’s cock inside him. He manages to swallow it down, blinking away his tears. To his parched lips, Ushijima’s milk tastes like gold.

He drinks greedily, the milk flowing past his lips and down his chin as Ushijima’s erratic thrusting forces him to gasp and keen. The feeling of being filled in both places in vastly different ways, makes his brain practically melt in the heated room.

Ushijima is in similar rapture, unable to control his hips as the pump int Oikawa’s tightness, nor the sounds that his suckling pulls from his throat. It’s too much, and he fears that he will not be able to keep Oikawa’s promise of not orgasming beforehand.

Neither of them knows which one cums first int he end. They are too slick to begin with, soaked in water, sweat, milk and semen. Oikawa’s cum splatters between them, while Ushijima shoves as deeply as he can into Oikawa’s heat to unleash his load.

Oikawa’s chest heaves when they separate. His eyes are blown out dark, and his body screeches as he unfolds himself to lie properly on his back.

Ushijima curls up at his side, using Oikawa’s chest as a pillow. He looks oddly small in that moment, but Oikawa is too exhausted to comment nor pull away.

Neither of them have any energy left at all, except simply to sleep.

In the other room, Iwaizumi lets out another pained shout, forced to turn his head back to watch the window. Kageyama sits beside him silent as stone, his eyes never straying from the scene.

The rods embedded deep in their asses hold them in place, the electric currents started mild, and thankfully never increased much further than that. Iwaizumi assumes it  must be because of Ushijima and Oikawa’s own compliance to whatever their orders were.

His and Kageyama’s were simple enough. Don’t look away.

He wishes he knew what Oikawa had been told in that room. There had to be a reason for his behavior. The softness, the care, the intimacy. Did the order turly require that of him? Why did it seem to come so easily to the both of them.

“Iwaizumi-san they’re almost done,” Kageyama whispers, “Just a little longer.”

Iwaizumi can see the beginnings of orgasm, true mind numbing pleasure rippling through Oikawa’s face and he jerks his head away because it’s Ushijima giving it to him. And sure, they’ve all been forced to fuck each other, but this was different. He wasn’t there beside him. And this…this looked too, normal. Like a scene he could easily imagine unfolding outside the white tiled room, in that world that must have existed at some point.

When he looks away the electricity is instantaneous, and he can’t help the scream that rips from his throat. It forces him to look back, unable to break free of his binds, just to see Oikawa cumming  and then Ushijima curling up against him, and Oikawa running his fingers through his hair like lovers do.

Chapter Text

Kageyama groans as the screen clicks completely off. He carefully stands up, extricating himself from the metallic dildo embedded into the center of his seat. He bites his lip but finally manages to be free.

From there he carefully takes off the wires that had been taped to him, wincing when they pull at the fine hairs on his arms and thighs. Once he’s untangled himself he turns to Iwaizumi who hasn’t said a word.

“Iwaizumi-san?” he questions. He hesitates. He can’t read his senpai’s face because the teen has his head bent down. His shoulders are shaking.

Kageyama bites his lip and then moves to begin unbuckling the straps that held Iwaizumi to the chair. His eyes widened at the grooves embossed in Iwaizumi’s skin from all his futile struggling.

Iwaizumi still doesn’t budge once Kageyama has freed of his binds. Unsure what to do with himself, the boy moves on to disrobing him of all the wires. When that’s done he takes a step back.

Iwaizumi rises carefully, unseating himself from his own metallic rod. Kageyama looks away.

“What do we do now?” Kageyama asks quietly.

They’re still alone in the room. He can see through the window that Ushijima and Oikawa are still passed out in their shared bed. He wishes he was there instead of with Iwaizumi.

He can’t imagine ever thinking that in his life before these rooms.

But that world felt so far now.

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer him, in favor of stumbling toward the window. Even with his energy sapped from all the electrical current that had run through his disobedient body, he still has the energy to throw a fist against the glass.

Kageyama flinches at the noise. Iwaizumi doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. He pounds at the immoveable glass but the picture on the other side never changes.

Kageyama wishes he’d stopped.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t are does he? All he cares about is Oikawa it seems.

Kageyama had always thought Iwaizumi to be a reliable senpai. But perhaps he had been wrong. He’s not sure what to think anymore.

Iwaizumi still hasn’t answered him, nor has the screen alighted with new instructions. So, Kageyama decides to lay down on the ground, curling up on his side. It’s cold, and he longs for his bathrobe and the press of a warm body beside him, but it would be no use to call out to Iwaizumi.

He wishes this room had a bed like Oikawa and Ushijima had.

He wishes for a lot of things.

He shudders a little, and almost as if in response to his chilled reaction, there is the sound of a beep. Kageyama looks toward the screen, but it has not awakened. He looks at the window, where Iwaizumi continues his assault, and sees that the screen in the other room is similarly dark.

And then the room begins to feel warm.

Kageyama feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate. Was the room taking pity? He looked up at the ceiling and he could see the vents above had slid open. He turns to lay on his back to better look up at the ceiling

He takes in a deep breath. There’s something else in the air. Like a bakery? Vanilla maybe? He wonders if they’re cooking smething up there. If they’re preparing a special treat. Maybe they’ve finished this tournament and can finally go home.

Kageyama wants to go home.

He groans, pressing the heels fo his hands into his eyes. He feels wetness on his palms but blinks. He isn’t crying?

He groans again. The air has gotten stickier quicker than he could have ever expected. The wetness is sweat, that has begun to bead on his forehead. What the hell?

“I-Iwaizumi-san,” he croaks. He doesn’t expect an answer, but it’s all he can think to do. His heart beat has accelerated slightly, even though he hasn’t budged from his place on the floor.

To his surprise, Iwaizumi comes to him. Fast. Like he’d just remembered Kageyama existed and needed to confirm it with his own eyes. Kageyama can see sweat forming on Iwaizumi’s brow too.

“It’s hot,” Kageyama says. He doesn’t understand. It was so cold only moments before. Was it moments? Had it been hours? How long had he been in this room, in any of these rooms? A fog had rolled through his brain.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees, “I think…Something in the air, making us…” He places a hand on Kageyama’s bare chest, as if he might just lose his balance. The touch is electrifying, and Kageyama finds himself arching back. It burns, in the most pleasurable way, before he gets his sense back. He tries to roll away then, terrified of how his body had reacted, but Iwaizumi is holding him.

“Why?” Kageyama whines. He doesn’t mean it to come out like that. He wants to sound stern and firm, but his mouth is wet with saliva, and it muddles his words.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s so close, Kageyama realizes. He’s too close. But not close enough. It doesn’t make sense.

“Let go,” Kageyama pleads, but his arms are jelly when he tries to life them. How does Iwaizumi have the strength to hold him when he looks just as flushed as Kageyama feels.

“You’re hard,” Iwaizumi says.

Kageyama looks down and groans. He kicks out his leg. Now that Iwaizumi’s pointed it out he can’t ignore it. His cock stands at attention, and he longs to touch it. Maybe then this unbearable heat will go away.

But he can’t move with Iwaizumi there.

“Let me—” Iwaizumi starts, letting his hand wrap around Kageyama’s cock. His words are interrupted by Kageyama’s shout as he jolts from the touch.

Kageyama twists his head to the side. He blinks away a few tears to clear his vision. The screen is still black. “Stop,” he tries again, “We don’t—we don’t have to. The screen—” He moans again when Iwaizumi strokes him. And then Iwaizumi does pull away completely, and Kageyama can’t help the way his throat cries out.

“You’re right,” Iwaizumi forces out, but he still doesn’t budge. Maybe he can’t. Maybe he’s also like jelly. “Fuck, it’s so…Ugh.”

Kageyama looks up at him. Can Iwaizumi not think either? Kageyama feels like a growing static filling up the cavity in his head where his brain should be. He kicks out again. He wants to be touched. He needs to be touched.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He’s tired of being forced to touch and be touched. Why is he craving it now, when the screen is silent?

He feels another whine burble out his throat, more frustrated tears streaming down his cheeks. Iwaizumi is just as hard as him, and Kageyama wants it inside him. He’s never desired something more. Maybe in another life, when he could set balls he had desired something else. But it feels pale in comparison to the need suddenly spiking through his head.

“Iwaizumi-san,” he begs, and then Iwaizumi is upon him.

They’re both still so stretched out from the seats they had been forced upon. They’re impatient, needy, desperate. It feels like he is full in seconds and he howls out, arching his back as Iwaizumi drives into him.

Iwaizumi holds him close in a bruising grip. All the better because Kageyama’s limbs are unable to follow orders, completely limp at his sides. How can Iwaizumi move so freely? How strong is he?

Kageyama finds his head lolling to the side, his eyes rolling back as Iwaizumi fucks into him hard and merciless. He sounds just as desperate to free himself of his heat, clouding his own sense of judgement.

Kageyama doesn’t even have the energy to close his mouth. It hangs open, spilling out saliva and slurred speech. It’s mostly whines and cries however, with every deep and brutal thrust Iwaizumi gives him. It’s not enough, it’s not enough.

He cums, finally, and sobs. It feels euphoric, and it clears the haze of his mind for a brief few moments. Iwaizumi is above him, face twisted and red as he continues to fuck into him. His gaze is distant, like he isn’t see Kageyama at all. It scares him, and he tries to weasel away, but Iwaizumi holds him still.

Kageyama sees the screen is dark still. Wait, why are they doing this again? Why? They don’t have to. They don’t. Why?”

He lets out a gasping sound. The scent of vanilla is heavy around him and he has no choice but to breathe it in. It clogs his nose, filling his brain with a new and thicker fog where he can’t think at all except to rut against Iwaizumi again and again and again.

Oikawa watches from their window of a wall, wrapped tightly in his bathrobe. He wants to look away, the carnal display is too much for him. Too raw. Too needy. Too animalistic.

But the screen has ordered him and Ushijima to watch.

Watch what they do when left to their own devices.

Oikawa refuses to believe that. Something else must be going on. The screen in the other room remains dark, but who knows what it could have told them while Ushijima and him were sleeping.

“Kageyama is trying to get away,” Ushijima says with gritted teeth, pointing out.

The boy had just cum and seems to have come to his senses. He writhes but Iwaizumi holds him prisoner. Oikawa grits his teeth. Iwaizumi would never. Just what the hell was going on?

After another few seconds it seems Kageyama gives up, meeting Iwaizumi’s thrusts with is own renewed fervor.

“Why are we here,” Ushijima hisses.

“To watch,” Oikawa snaps.

Ushijima shakes his head, “No, not this here. I meant, here at all, in this prison. What sadistic mind has come up with such an operation, and why the four of us?”

“Your small brain is working too hard,” Oikawa says. It doesn’t lighten the mood. He hates that Ushijima hs the same questions he does, and the has no answers for him. What’s worse, the world outside these white tiled walls has grown more and more distant with each passing room. Sometimes, especially when he is still heavy with sleep, he forgets he ever existed outside these sterile walls.

But he can’t tell Ushijima that.

Chapter Text

Iwaizumi wakes up still on top of Kageyama. He must have passed out at some point. It’s a mess between them, sticky and sweaty and disgusting. He grimaces shifting himself off and slipping out of the poor kid.

Kageyama murmurs in his own sleep, curling in on himself. It pains Iwaizumi to see it. How long had they gone at it? He couldn’t remember. It was all such a blurry haze of lust and need. Every time he came, it was like the fog had cleared and he’d tried to get away, only for Kageyama to clutch at him tightly, and then soon he was unbelievably hard again.

The room was no longer hot and heady. In fact, he found himself shivering. He could see Kageyama was shivering too now, but he didn’t want to lay back down ont he tile floor with him, especially with how disgusting he felt.

There was no water in this room to wash up in.

Iwaizumi pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He could feel tears coming and he refused to let them slip down his face. Not now. Not when he knew their tormentors must be watching. He did not want to give them even more sick pleasures.

He took a deep breath and grabbed their bathrobes, discarded in the corner when they’d been dragged in here. He puts his on and lays the other atop Kageyama’s body. The boy stops shivering as much.

He hears a knock and looks up, catching sight of Oikawa through the glass of the window wall. How had he forgotten? He lurches up onto his feet to hurry over, despite how tired his legs are.

Oikawa’s face looks grim. Ushijima stands before him looking much the same. Iwaizumi wonders if they’d had to undergo another task while he was asleep.

He speaks, but it becomes obvious that no sound travels through. He bangs on the glass but it does not budge. He leans his forehead on it.

Again, Oikawa knocks on the glass for his attention. He lifts his head up to look at him and sees him pointing off to the right. Iwaizumi follows his gaze to see that a tile has flipped in his room to reveal a button.

He goes toward it and presses it. A doorway appears and his eyes widen, looking back over at Oikawa and Ushijima. They’re shaking their heads now, pointing toward the back of his rom. He looks over to see their pointing at Kageyama, still asleep on the floor.

Did they think he would just leave him there?

He picks his way back to Kageyama’s side, carefully hefting him up into his arms. The boys gotten lighter since their stay here—they all have. He grimaces.

He carries him back to the doorway, but pauses to look over at Oikawa and Ushijima. Oikawa flashes the OK sign before disappearing deeper into his own room. Ushijima had already gone.

Maybe they have their own doorway to pass through?

Iwaizumi readjusts his grip on Kageyama before stepping through the threshold. He follows the winding pathway of the skinny hallway for a long time. The view never changes and at times he feels as if he isn’t moving at all.

Finally, he comes out to a room, and Oikawa and Ushijima are there.

There on him in an instant, but only to take Kageyama from him. They set him down on the ground carefully and nudge him into consciousness.

Jealousy is not a typical feeling that Iwaizumi has. It’s much more natural on Oikawa, but he can’t deny that the knots in his stomach come from that very feeling as he watches Oikawa fawn over the boy.

He swallows.

“Ushiwaka, let's give him some of our extra water. He’s probably dehydrated,” Oikawa says.

Talk to me, Iwaizumi begs in his his mind. His own throat is too dry to speak. Why won’t you look at me?

Ushijima does as he’s told and Kageyama slowly comes to in order to guzzle down the bottle of water. Almost as an afterthought, Iwaizumi is given a bottle.

He takes down a few gulps and then demands, “What’s going on?”

“We are making sure he is alright,” Ushijima snaps, “After what you did to him.”

“What I did?” Iwaizumi blinks.

“You fucked him for hours,” Oikawa hisses, through gritted teeth. “Non-stop.”

Iwaizumi’s lips part, “I…I didn’t want to.”

“No one told you to, either!” Oikawa shouts back.

Iwaizumi furrows his brow, “There was something, something in the air,” he insists, desperately, “Kageyama will tell you. It made us…It, it compelled us, I swear.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama finally manages to say, sitting up. “It made, made thinking hard.”

“See!” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa looks away.

“You could have done other things. You could have switched,” Ushijima says quietly, “We could hear Kageyama in the moments when he was lucid. He was screaming.”

Iwaizumi whitens, looking down at Kageyama. The boy doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Keep drinking, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says, “This room isn’t one for us to stay in, it seems. Who knows how long we have until the screen comes back.”

Kageyama nods.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi says but he knows its not enough. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Luckily, they’re interrupted by the sudden thud of something falling from the sky. They all jump at the loud noise, but Kageyama especially screams once he realizes what it is. His hands grab for his own neck and he backs away into Ushijima’s chest.

“You’re okay!” Oikawa assures quickly.

It’s a heavy rope, similar to the one still hanging from Kageyama’s neck. Part of it still hangs from the ceiling, but theres enough of it to pile up on the ground.

It’s too much like the second room.

Iwaizumi swallows.

A screen lights up.

Freedom to choose who shall not be free.

Tie his ankles. Tie his wrists. Contort his body this way and that. Follow our instructions if you don’t want his body to break.

Fail Condition: The One without Freedom will have their limbs torn off.

The screen then begins to cycle through diagrams of bodies in rope bondage, bending in specific ways.

“Kageyama will not be tied up again,” Ushijima says matter of factly, pulling the teenager closer to his chest.

“Agreed,” Oikawa says.

“I’ll do it,” Iwaizumi says, quickly.

“Let’s talk about this,” Oikawa responds.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “You’ve all said it a thousand times. You all have taken the brunt of this, this nightmare. I’ll do it.”

“You’re not flexible,” Oikawa insists, “Look at these poses we have to get you in!”

“You can’t be tied up for the same reason we won’t tie up Kageyama,” Iwaizumi barks back, “I’m not taking away your control ever again!”

Oikawa looks at him, a bit shocked. His eyes well up slightly, and he turns away with gritted teeth. Iwaizumi picks up the rope end.

“I think it is fair,” Ushijima says, “Iwaizumi seems more flexible than me. And I agree that neither you nor Kageyama should be tied up.”

Iwaizumi nods. He doesn’t want to think about how eager Ushijima is to agree to this. Not when his most recent memory of him is seeing him make love to Oikawa. Not fuck. Something much more intimate.

He hates him.

He can’t blame him though can he?

He’s hurt all of them. As plain as the tears on Kageyama’s face and the marks on Ushijima and Oikawa’s asses.

He deserves this.

Oikawa doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

Kageyama refuses to touch the rope, fearing it may come to life and strangle him. No one forces him and they leave him in the corner to shake. Oikawa studies the first diagram on the screen.

He picks up the rope. It’s rough against his skin and he shudders to think of it wrapping tightly against him. He looks at Iwaizumi and sees the steely resolve in his eyes. Oikawa knows him well enough to see he’s seeking penance.

Oikawa grits his teeth.

“Hands behind your back,” he orders. Iwaizumi straightens himself up on his knees, bringing his arms behind him. Oikawa starts wrapping the rope there as the diagram shows, but it’s Ushijima who ties the knots securely. The rope feeds up to wrap around his neck before falling down his torso and back up his ass crack. It’s tight. It’s uncomfortable.

Iwaizumi refuses to squirm.

“Lean back,” Oikawa says, pushing at Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He tilts back, doing his best to keep his legs folded as they rise in the air so that Ushijima can wrap the rope around them tightly.

With a final not the first diagram is complete.

Nothing happens.

“Did we do something wrong?” Ushijima asks.

“He’s supposed to be suspended,” Oikawa muses.

“We don’t have the other end of the rope to pull on,” Ushijima mutters.

Oikawa purses his lips. He looks at the rope climbing into the abyss above them, tied tightly to Iwaizumi’s bound arms and gives it two strong tugs.

It recoils and Iwaizumi makes a surprised grunt as he’s lifted from the ground. His body twists and his heart pounds. His ascent stops, ending up with him mostly horizontal, bent in half, with his arms taking most of the strain. He groans and grits his teeth.

There’s a ding, and the next diagram appears.

Iwaizumi’s head is right at Oikawa’s eye level.

There must be a better way to do this but the diagrams give no instruction. Just a final image they are meant to emulate.

They untie Iwaizumi’s legs only for his body to swing vertical and him to shout out in pain. His arms are yanked with enough force that Oikawa worries they’ve been dislocated.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say.

Ushijima works quickly to retie Iwaizumi’s legs into the new position, with one extending straight up so the ankle nearly touches his  neck. Iwaizumi grits his teeth, the muscles in his leg quaking with the effort to get it to bend. 

Oikawa curses at how little give Iwaizumi’s tendons have. Oikawa should have been the one suspended.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi growls out, “Don’t be nice about it, just get it done.”

Oikawa hesitates.

Ushijima does not, tightening the rope and ignoring the way Iwaizumi screams out.

Another ding.

Oikawa races to loosen the knot, unable to bear hearing Iwaizumi in pain for that long. Even when he’s angry, furious even, at him, the sound is enough to break him. He takes in a shaky breath.

Iwaizumi is heaving. His head tilts back. The rope is digging into his skin and turning it red.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa looks over to see Ushijima motioning at the screen. Iwaizumi isn’t facing it anymore and is blind to its contents.

Oikawa swallows.

“Tobio,” Oikawa calls, “Would you like to join or sit out?”

Kageyama lifts his head. He’d been pointedly ignoring the lot of them. He looks at the screen now, eyes widening before quickly shaking his head no.

Oikawa looks back at Ushijima.

“I’ll take the front,” Oikawa decides. Ushijima nods slowly. “You get him in position.”

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi asks, able to speak again.

Oikawa ignores him for the moment, helping Ushijima reposition him so  Iwaizumi is parallel to the ground. His legs dangle downward, free  of any rope. Instead, he’s supported by the rope tied around his arms and waist. He grimaces.

Even though Oikawa and Ushijima have stopped there is no ding from the screen.

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi repeats.

Oikawa wipes sweat from Iwaizumi’s brow with his hand, pushing his bangs out of the way. They had gotten longer since captivity. Just how long had they been here?

“We have to fuck you,” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi should have guessed. “Okay,” he says, slowly, as if it matters.

“At the same time,” Oikawa continues, cupping Iwaizumi’s face.

Iwaizumi feels his face pale and hates himself for it. What right does he have to be scared when the rest of them had gone through so much more?

Iwaizumi wishes his legs could touch the floor. He wants to ground himself. He wants stability. He focuses on keeping his breathing even.

“Ushiwaka, do you know how to prepare him?” Oikawa asks. Iwaizumi realizes that’s mostly been his job since they’d been taken to this facility. He finds himself tensing.

“I’ve gathered what to do,” Ushijima supplies.

“Relax,” Oikawa says and Iwaizumi tries. Oikawa still has his hands around his face, and he finds himself leaning into the touch. How long had it been since Oikawa touched him with this kind of tenderness?

He lets out a light hiss when he feels Ushijima prodding at him with what must be his finger. Oikawa rubs his cheek with his thumb.

A thought comes to him and he kicks his foot back, trying to get Ushijima to stop. The man lets out a surprised noise, and Iwaizumi sways with the force he’s created. Oikawa lurches forward to keep his hands on his face, “Relax!”

“It should be you!” Iwaizumi says quickly, as a poor way of explaining himself.  There’s panic straining his vocal cords. Viceral and desperate. Oikawa squints at him. “It’s supposed to be you. For my…you know..”

Oikawa blinks with understanding. He feels a flush come across his face, fingers digging into Iwaizumi’s hair almost possessively. He’d become so desensitized to it all, he hadn’t realized Iwaizumi hadn’t been fucked yet. He swallows.

He leans closer, not wanting Ushijima to hear him, “Then Ushiwaka would be in your mouth. Isn’t that, isn’t that more intimate?”

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut, letting his face hang down. He doesn’t know. All he wants is Oikawa. Just Oikawa.

He feels frustration building in his chest, along with a pressure in his eyes. He hates this. He hates this place. He hates himself for making it more difficult.

But this was supposed to be special.

“Whatever,” he forces out, “Just, just get it over with.”

He doesn’t lift his head up to see what Oikawa decides, but his boyfriend doesn’t budge. He can feel Ushijima back in his entrance.

He bites his lip and glares at the white tiled floor. Despite his best efforts, tear drops fall and splatter on the tiles below.

Oikawa’s hands return to his face then, tilting him up. Iwaizumi doesn’t want him to see him like this. Hurt by something so trivial in the grand scheme of all they had been through. Weak. Broken.

Oikawa kisses him.

When had they last kissed?

Iwaizumi doesn’t even feel Ushijima as he spreads him open with two and then three fingers. All he can focus on is Oikawa, Oikawa’s lips on his, his hands in his hair, his tongue.

Oikawa.

When they pull away from each other Iwaizumi has to stop himself from crying out in frustration.

“Ready?” Ushijima says.

“Yeah,” Oikawa responds and Iwaizumi loves the way his breath catches as he says it. He glances down to see Oikawa is indeed ready, his cock at attention. Just from their kiss? 

He wants to say something. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

But he can’t say anything, because just as he opens his mouth to do so, Ushijima shoves himself in. Iwaizumi’s teeth clack loudly against each other as he clamps his mouth shut. The scream is muffled through his lips. A few tears blink from his eyes.

“You’re okay,” Oikawa says, but Iwaizumi heard the shit he’d hissed under his breath.

Oikawa’s fingers move to cup his face again, massaging the junction where his jaw meats the rest of his skull. He tries to focus on that instead of the burning fullness behind him. To Ushijima’s credit he’s holding completely still.

“Iwa-chan, you have to, you have to open your mouth,” Oikawa urges, his fingers pressing against his jaw harder. Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut and tries to loosen his mouth open.

He can hear Ushijima muttering under his breath.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, a bit more desperately, his hands moving to his lips. “We need to hurry.”

Iwaizumi instinctively tries to pull his hand away now. His arms have gone numb behind his back. His ass aches. He’s too full. His mouth is cemented shut. There are more tears coming from his eyes. He can't. He won't.

Oikawa’s face seems to darken. Iwaizumi almost doesn’t recognize him until he realizes he knows the face. It’s the face Oikawa usually sends across the net to an opposing team. A grim finality.

Fear scrapes at Iwaizumi’s belly and he tries to swing backward. Ushijima grabs hold of his hips, halting his momentum. He can’t move.

“Ushiwaka, hit him,” Oikawa orders.

Iwaizumi doesn’t have the time to process the order. All he feels is the sudden slap of Ushijima’s hand on his ass accompanying him pulling out and slamming back in.

He sees white and lets out a shout.

That’s enough for Oikawa to shove his cock deep into his mouth. Iwaizumi chokes, more tears slipping from his throat as the head of Oikawa’s cock hits the back of his throat. He writhes. Oikawa has his mouth pried open with his thumbs, curling his lips back and making sure his teeth don’t snap down.

“Fuck,” Oikawa groans, curling forward. “Iwa-chan, you have to…fuck…relax.”

Iwaizumi writhes again, only for Ushijima to spank him again. He lets ut a groan, muffled and distorted by Oikawa’s girth. Oikawa moans, probably from the sudden thrum of vibrations that hit his sensitive member.

Oikawa and Ushijima take a second to catch their breath. Iwaizumi is forced t wait between them, stuffed in both ends. Pins and needles stab at his arms, hands, and feet. He can barely breath around Oikawa. Saliva starts dripping down his chin. He can taste copper but has no idea where the blood is from.

He’s trying to be calm but it hurts. There is a constant pain throughout his body from the strain of the ropes. He’s gagging. He’s crying.

“Hajime,” Oikawa hisses, “Once we both cum, it’s over. We can take you down. We need to hurry. Please, just, relax.”

Iwaizumi can only whine around the cock in his mouth, but he knows Oikawa is right. He tries to take a deep breath through his nose and loosen his muscles. He feels more saliva fall from his mouth, thick and stringy.

Oikawa pets his head and that helps.

“That’s it,” Oikawa murmurs, “If I move my hands, will you promise not to bite me?”

Iwaizumi hesitates. He squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on loosening his jaw so that his teeth don’t bear down on Oikawa’s thumbs. He manages and Oikawa removes his fingers, letting Iwaizumi’s lips wrap around him entirely. He moans and that helps too.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says.

“I know,” Oikawa replies. He takes a moment to swipe Iwaizumi’s bangs from his eyes.

And then they start fucking him.

There’s nothing Iwaizumi can do. He’s suspended off the ground, arms pulled painfully back and completely immobile. He rocks back and forth from the force of Ushijima’s and Oikawa’s simultaneous thrusts. He is full, too full, and then he is empty, only t be filled to the brim again.

He gags, his back arches, but there is no relief. Ushijima rams into him faster and faster, chasing his orgasm at a blistering speed. Oikawa is the same, fingers digging into Iwaizumi’s hair to keep him in place as he fucks him.

Iwaizumi can’t even think. It’s so much. It’s too much. He can barely even register the noises that fall from his wet mouth. His eyes are rolling back in his head. He’s not getting enough oxygen.

It’s all so much.

Ushijima cums first, filling his ass with heat and making him shudder. Oikawa cums soon after and Iwaizumi chokes on the cock in his mouth as his throat works to try swallow the load. Most ends up trailing down his chin.

There’s a merciful ding.

Suddenly, there’s a snap, and the rope holding Iwaizumi up goes slack. He’s about to crash onto the cold ground, but Ushijima manages to grab his waist while Oikawa holds onto his shoulders. They slip out of him in the process and Iwaizumi is able to breathe.

He gasps, coughing up cum and spit and tears. He shudders in their arms, unable to move witht he knots still keeping him tied. The world is hazy, and he can’t focus on the words Oikawa and Ushijima are saying.

He passes out on the floor.

Chapter Text

It takes a long time to get all the ropes off Iwaizumi’s limp body. Oikawa’s fingers are too shaky to do much and he’s forced to rely on Ushijima to undo most of the knots. The skin underneath is darkening into a deep purple from bruising and Oikawa can’t help cringing at the sight.

Ushijima says nothing as he works. Oikawa marvels at his strength in this moment, so different than in the honeymoon suite where he seemed on the verge of breaking.

He supposes they’d all been on the verge of breaking. Or had they been broken now? He feels oddly at peace in this moment. There is no screen commanding them. There is just quiet in the aftermath of orgasmic release.

“Oikawa-san,” Kageyama calls from the corner. “Is Iwaizumi-san alright?”

Oikawa trusts Ushijima to finish taking care of Iwaizumi—a thought he’d never believe he could have—so he stands up to move toward Kageyama’s side. Color has returned to Kageyama’s features.

Kageyama looks up at him, reaching a hand out. Oikawa sits beside him, letting the younger teenager wrap around his arm and bury his face into his shoulder. Kageyama is warm beside him.

“He’ll be okay,” Oikawa says. “We’ll be okay.”

Kageyama just sinks into him. Oikawa lets him, his gaze remaining focused on Ushijima and Iwaizumi. All he has left to do is untie the knot on his lower back.

Kageyama squirms, trying to get impossibly closer and Oikawa has the urge to kiss him. And so he does, pressing his lips to the crown of Kageyama’s head.

“Done,” Ushijima says.

He doesn’t leave Iwaizumi on the ground though. Instead, he carefully slides his arms underneath him to lift him up. He has him in a bridal carry to bring him to where Oikawa and Kageyama are sitting. The three of them all help to prop Iwaizumi against the wall. Oikawa takes the edges of his own bathrobe to wipe the mixture of saliva, tears, and cum from Iwaizumi’s face. Ushijima does the same for the drying cum between Iwaizumi’s thighs.

Kageyama crawls away to retrieve Iwaizumi’s discarded bathrobe, and when his senpais are done cleaning, he lets it lie atop of him.

Iwaizumi.

He had always admired Iwaizumi. His strong, dependable senpai. The Iwaizumi who always checked in on him, who always offered kind words and advice. The very same Iwaizumi that had struck fear in his heart while trapped in this labyrinth.

Kageyama doesn’t know how to express what he is feeling. It isn’t remorse or guilt. It isn’t pity. He is just tired of feeling in general. Of caring. He doesn’t care anymore. Not about what’s been done to him or going to be done to him. It’s just not worth his time any longer.

All his brain can process anymore is what will make him feel better now and in this moment. The answer to that, he finds, is to lay atop Iwaizumi and snuggled into his chest.

Perhaps it could be called forgiveness.

The moment is brief because soon there is a piercing screech of the wall shifting and opening up. Iwaizumi’s unconscious body falls backward. Ushijima, somehow, manages to lurch his hand behind his head to prevent Iwaizumi from cracking it open on the tile.

Oikawa lets out a relieved breath. He even squeezes Ushijima’s other hand in thank you.

“Woah,” Kageyama says, and it prompts the other two to look into the newly opened room. 

It’s not the biggest room they’ve been in, but it is one of the nicest. It wasn’t as nice as the suite Oikawa and Ushijima had been sequestered in briefly, but it was close.

Four twin size beds sat along the wall, a few feet apart from each other. They had sheets and blankets, and several pillows each. Above each bed was a track for an opaque curtain.

Privacy.

Oikawa’s eyes widened.

The light’s shut off.

He and Ushijima made a surprised noise. They waited for the lights to come back and for the beds to simply have been a mirage.

They flick on but everything remains. They look over to see Kageyama with a sheepish look, his finger on the switch.

They could control the light?

Oikawa swallows.

Ushijima lifts Iwaizumi carefully in his arms and deposits him in the closest bed. Oikawa moves past the beds toward the lone fridge in the corner of the room. Inside he finds bottles of water, pre-cooked rice, and a myriad of veggies and fruits. His mouth waters. On the floor beside the refrigerator is a microwave, a stack of four bowls sitting on top of it.

He wants to cry.

“There’s a bathroom!” Kageyama shouts excitedly, catching everyone’s attention. “A real bathroom! With a bath and a door and everything!”

“Check the water,” Oikawa starts, coming toward the younger boy.

Kageyama turns the faucet, “It’s warm!”

Oikawa drapes himself over Kageyama, overcome with gratitude at the news. Kageyama lets out a surprised squeak but readjusts himself not to fall, lifting his hand to grab one of Oikawa’s arms.

“A note,” Ushijima mutters, forcing the two to look over at him. He lifts a small card from one of the pillows, reading it aloud carefully, “Rest.”

“That’s it?” Oikawa asks, straightening himself up. Kageyama’s shoulders feel cold in his absence.

“That is it,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa purses his lip.

Iwaizumi groans, turning on his side. Ushijima is still near him, putting a hand against his side, “Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi blinks his eyes open. He squints past Ushijima, “We…home?”

“No,” Oikawa sighs, “Just another room. A nice one, though.”

Iwaizumi sits up, wincing at the rope burns that had rubbed his skin raw, “No, but. My bag. My bag,” he lifts his hand, pointing.

The three follow his finger to under the bed beside his, where a white and teal duffle bag sits. Oikawa’s heart quickens, and he races over, pushing Ushijima away, to snatch the bag up. His throat catches at the Godzilla plush keychain hanging from one of the zippers.

It’s Iwaizumi’s.

He opens it. He sees Iwaizumi’s uniform, rolled up neatly for school. The sight of the familiar fabric brings tears to his eyes. The purple shirt, the white blazer, the brown pants, and dark threading. His breath hitches. School. Normalcy.

“Oikawa?”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his eyes, “It’s your bag.”

“My bags here too,” Kageyama calls. He drags out his own gym bag from under one of the other beds. He rifles through it to make sure, “This is..this is the change of clothes I brought to the tournament.”

“Mine as well,” Ushijima says, fishing out his own bag, “They must have taken these when they kidnapped us. Why return them now?”

“Yours is here too, Oikawa-san,” Kageyama points out to the last bed.

Oikawa’s arms hang limply at his side. “We didn’t bring our bags to the game.”

“What?” Kageyama asks, tilting his head.

Oikawa slumps onto the bed. Iwaizumi has to be quick to curl his legs away to keep from being squashed.

“What do you mean?” Ushijima says.

“We weren’t playing, remember?” Iwaizumi replies, sitting up as the same horror consuming Oikawa begins to flit through his veins, turning them icy. “We didn’t bring them.”

“I left my bag in my room. In my bedroom. In my house,” Oikawa whispers.

“They’ve been to our house,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“What if Nee-chan was visiting?” Oikawa says, quiet enough to hope he doesn’t make it real. His hand claps around his mouth as he whispers, “What if Takeru—”

Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder.

Oikawa sinks further into himself.

“At least we have our stuff,” Kageyama says, already stripping out of his bathrobe to step into his school uniform. He stops before unzipping his bag, looking down at himself in disgust. “I’m going to shower!”

Ushijima is the only one able to answer, so he simply nods.

Kageyama scurries to their bathroom, but now that he’s presented with a door, he finds himself scared to close it. What if they become separated. “I’m leaving it open!” he calls, feeling his face redden at his own nervousness. He didn’t want to dwell on it. Instead, he turns on the water and steps into the hot refreshing spray.

There’s even soap! And shampoo!

Outside, Ushijima isn’t sure what to do with himself. Oikawa is leaning into Iwaizumi’s side. Iwaizumi is saying something, quiet and hushed. It feels intimate.

The gap between him and them feels large and overwhelming. Looking down at his duffle bag makes it feel all the more apparent. The deep royal purple stands out.

He is different.

He misses his team.

He misses his friends.

He squeezes the straps of his bags.

“Are you guys still there?” Kageyama calls.

“Yes,” Ushijima replies. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just,” Kageyama seems to hesitate, “I just wanted to make sure.”

Kageyama can’t relax under the shower’s spray when he’s alone. He doesn’t understand it. He had spent his whole life alone! He loved being alone. Alone meant quiet. But now, it prickles his skin and makes him keep checking behind his back.

He finishes scrubbing his body, wincing as his hands glide over his sore nipples. He’s afraid of removing the piercings. Will they get in trouble? So he lets them be.

He wraps himself in the fluffy towel and leaves the bathroom.

Ushijima goes in after him.

Kageyama sits on the bed Oikawa and Iwaizumi are on, ignoring the other three. He wants to be near them. He needs to be near them.

“Get your own bed,” Oikawa huffs, spreading out his thighs to try and push Kageyama away.

“No,” Kageyama says, firmly.

Oikawa is more surprised than annoyed by the response. He and Iwaizumi share a look, before he repeats, “No?”

“It’s not fair,” Kageyama continues, not looking at either of them, “You have Iwaizumi-san. I don’t—,” he sucks in a breath, “I don’t have anyone. I never needed anyone, but now, now, I, I need—” his voice cracks.

“Tobio,” Oikawa says, voice stern, “Quiet.”

Kageyama swallows down his words. Oikawa squeezes his hand and doesn’t kick him off the bed. In fact, by the time, Ushijima exits the bathroom, he finds the three of them laying on the one bed like sardines.

“My turn!” Oikawa calls, slipping out of the pile to shower.

Ushijima slips the towel from his waist to further dry his hair, “You did not dress, Kageyama?”

“I figured we were just going to sleep,” Kageyama replies, picking at the sheets. He’s laying on his back, Iwaizumi sitting up beside him. “I only have my school uniform in my bag. I don’t want to wear it just to sleep.”

Ushijima blinks, nodding thoughtfully.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, catching his attention. “Umm, I know there are separate beds, but Kageyama doesn’t want to sleep alone, so we’re planning to push the beds together—”

“You need help moving them?”

“Well, yes, but,” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck, “We wanted to see if you wanted to join us?”

Ushijima is taken aback. He hesitates before nodding again, almost imperceptibly. Iwaizumi doesn’t comment.

The three of them push all four beds together, lining them up as best they can. They try to smooth over the gaps with the extra pillows, creating an attempt at a seamless transition.

By the time they are finished, Oikawa steps out and smiles.

Iwaizumi leaves to shower.

“There’s no brush,” Oikawa comments, laying his towel onto the newly formed mega bed to sit on it. Then he scooches backward, creating a pocket of space right in front of him. He pats it, “Tobio, come here.”

Kageyama tilts his head but does not argue, obediently climbing up to sit. Oikawa manhandles him into his lap, and Kageyama complies easily. With him situated, Oikawa starts combing his fingers through Kageyama’s hair, separating the strands neatly as he goes. Kageyama finds himself closing his eyes.

There’s a dip in the bed behind them, and Oikawa cranes his neck back to see Ushijima slotting himself there.

“May I?” he asks.

“I don’t think you have the necessary qualifications to handle my hair,” Oikawa replies, “Only the best hairdresser’s in Miyagi have that pleasure.”

“Oh,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, “I’m kidding.”

Ushijima blinks but then he carefully brings his hands up to start threading through Oikawa’s hair.

“My sister’s training to be a hairdresser,” Kageyama says, without opening his eyes.

“Is she?” Oikawa says, before quickly adding, “You have a sister!?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama shrugs.

Oikawa’s hands fall still as he realizes, I don’t know anything about you Kageyama Tobio.

“Which way do you part your hair, Oikawa?” Ushijima asks.

“Left,” Oikawa murmurs.

I don't know anything about you either, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“What’s the conga line for?” Iwaizumi asks as he steps back over to them.

“Hair,” Kageyama replies.

Iwaizumi nods. “I’m gonna heat us up food, alright?”

They settle into a comfortable silence as Iwaizumi divvies up the rice and veggies in their bowls. They eat on the floor, using their towels as seating. The food is almost too much for their shrunken stomachs, but they savor every bite.

Oikawa fixes Iwaizumi’s hair with his fingers. Ushijima asks about Kageyama’s sister. He asks about Karasuno. Kageyama lights up at the question. Iwaizumi and Oikawa find their eyes widening, as Kageyama begins to gush about his new team, the words tripping over each other as he hurries to speak about them.

It’s mostly complaints and curses about their short middle blocker and tall middle blocker. Peppered within are praises for his senpais and coach. Neither Iwaizumi and Oikawa have ever seen him like this, and something touches at their hearts that they try hard not to think about it.

Eventually, conversation blooms between the four, and for just one moment, they are high school boys gossiping about their teams. They laugh and it makes their chests lighter.

Eventually, they migrate back into the bed, slipping under the sheets and keeping close enough that the outer two beds become virtually unnecessary to them.

It’s unclear how it begins, exactly, or who started. But at some point in the night, they find themselves kissing. In the darkness, it is unclear who is kissing who. Lips simply meld one into each other, swallowing sighs and fluttering breaths.

They don’t go any further than that. They don’t need to. It is enough to be in each other's arms in this moment of reprieve.

Safe.

Warm.

Together.