WARNING: Ushijima's character is twisted and bastardized

Oikawa sat on the bench in the locker room, sighing into his hands. "It wasn't your fault," he heard Iwaizumi say. Oikawa didn't respond—he couldn't respond—and he heard his best friend sigh and walk away. The door closed softly, gently. In the silence, Oikawa could feel the panic of being alone squeeze at his heart. But it was my fault, he wanted to scream. It was.

He lifted his head, feeling hot tears against his face but not remembering when they had started falling. He forced himself to his feet, and began to mechanically go through the motions of changing—pull off this shirt, put on that shirt. Pull off these shorts, put on those pants. His fingers were numb, fumbling as he struggled to pull the waistline of his sweats over his hips.

Oikawa found himself in front of one of the mirrors, leaning his forehead against the cool glass, staring into his own reddened eyes. "It was my fault," he whispered to himself. "It was."

Eventually he steeled himself enough to rub the pathetic tears from his cheeks and grab his bag, making his way out of the locker room. A familiar silhouette stood in the hallway outside, leaning against the wall.

"What do you want, Ushiwaka?" Oikawa growled out, glaring at the taller brunet. The loss against Karasuno was still fresh in Oikawa's mind, and he really didn't want to deal with the condescending tone of the other captain.

Ushijima met his glare evenly, with a carefully neutral expression. "I keep telling you, Oikawa," he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle—gentler than Oikawa would've thought possible. "If you'd just joined the stronger school—"

"No!" Oikawa quickly cut him off, his anger rising quickly. I don't need to hear this. Not here, not now. Not ever. "I joined Aoba Johsai. End of story. You don't have to keep bringing this up—I'm not switching schools."

Ushijima sighed at that, shifting his weight. "Look, Oikawa," he breathed, his gaze hard. "There's something I really need to tell you."

Oikawa rolled his eyes, dropping his bag to the floor so that he could spread his arms dramatically. "What?" he cried, "What could possibly be so important for you to tell me, right now? What is it, Ushiwaka? What?"

A small frown was the only response Ushijima had to Oikawa's sarcastic tone. "Oikawa," he said seriously, his voice in its usual unperturbed monotone. "It is important. I should have told you years ago." Oikawa scowled at him, but said nothing, allowing the taller brunet to continue. "Oikawa…I think…" Ushijima hesitated, and Oikawa let out a loud sigh.

"I can't stand here all day, waiting for you to spit out this supposed 'important information', Ushiwaka," he snapped, the frustration building up. I really want to just punch him right now. I don't need this. "Say it, or let me leave."

"Fine, then." Ushijima crossed his arms. "Oikawa, I like you."

Oikawa wrinkled his brow, squinting at the spiker. "Huh?" There was no change in the other captain's stance or expression. "Are you…serious?"

"Yes." Ushijima stared straight into Oikawa's eyes, his expression serious and composed. "I've liked you since the first time I saw you play. And then…despite your horrible personality, it seems I've actually fallen for you."

Oikawa shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Wait, wait…" He was used to getting confessions, of course, but a confession was the last thing he expected from the seemingly-emotionless spiker in front of him. "You…actually…like me? Like, in a romantic way?" Ushijima gave a single nod, his face not changing. Oikawa let out a breath, his mind muddled yet still trying to make sense of everything.

"Do you…" Ushijima hesitated for a moment before continuing, "return my feelings?"

"Are you kidding?" Oikawa immediately shot back, his voice climbing high with disbelief as his anger began to take over. "You can't just drop that on me and expect me to say 'yes'! What's wrong with you? And why would I return your feelings? I hate you!" He could hear his own shrill voice echoing through the empty hallways.

Ushijima's calm face finally cracked. A sharp jerk of muscle brought his lips down, curling his mouth into a menacing scowl. "Hate me?" he repeated, his voice soft. "Do you know, Oikawa, how prepared I was for that?" He took a step forward. "Do you know, Oikawa, that I was expecting that exact response?" He took another step, and Oikawa could see the glimmer of tears in the spiker's eyes. Oikawa slid a foot backwards, but his heel knocked against the wall and by then Ushijima was too close and the setter was trapped.

"S-Stop," Oikawa stammered, the light of anger in the other's eyes intimidating him. I have no escape, what the hell is he planning…?

"Do you know, Oikawa," Ushijima continued, his voice getting steadily louder, his face a foot or so from Oikawa's, and Oikawa realized just how much he hated the sound of his own name coming out of the spiker's mouth, "that it still hurts so much, just to hear you say that? Even after all the times I played it out in my head?"

Ushijima was too close, way too close. Oikawa instinctively raised a hand to push him back, his fingers meeting the fabric of the spiker's shirt. Ushijima stopped leaning in. Oikawa's back was flush against the wall, and his breath was coming way too fast, and he didn't know what he looked like but he could imagine some wild light of confusion and anger in his own brown eyes. He held his hand against Ushijima's chest, not pushing strong enough to hold him at that distance, but enough so that the spiker got the hint to stop.

"Stop," Oikawa panted, not liking the way Ushijima's face was so close, not liking the way he could see every emotion flashing through Ushijima's eyes, and not liking the way his own heart felt like it was about to burst from the shock of it all.

There was a glint of anger in Ushijima's eyes. "Why not just hear me out?" the ace murmured, the dark pupils of his eyes almost overtaking the brown irises. "You can never hear anyone out, Oikawa. It's always just what you think, just what you want to hear. You're so selfish in that way, you know? If you could just hear me out, I'm sure you'll change your mind." Before Oikawa could react, Ushijima was already leaning forward again, and within his fit of panic Oikawa realized that their lips were touching.

He shoved his hand hard against Ushijima's chest, but the stronger player didn't budge—instead, Ushijima brought his hands to the sides of Oikawa's head, entangling his fingers in the soft brown hair and tilting the setter's head to kiss him again. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, Oikawa screeched in his head, struggling to breathe as his heart pumped faster than he'd ever thought possible.

Unable to get enough air through his nose, Oikawa found himself opening his mouth helplessly for oxygen that wasn't there. Instead, Ushijima took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the other captain's mouth, and Oikawa felt his knees buckle beneath him. Ushijima's hand gripped his waist, keeping him pressed against the wall. Oikawa's skin shivered beneath the strong grip.

After what felt like an eternity, Ushijima finally pulled away. Oikawa panted helplessly, gasping for air, his hands sliding against the wall behind him as if searching for something to hold himself up. "W-What—" he gasped, his chest heaving. Ushijima tightened his hold on Oikawa's waist, his fingers pressing in against the soft skin.

"I told you," he said softly, "I like you, Oikawa. Do you like me yet?"

Oikawa sucked in another desperate breath, his fingernails scraping against the wall behind him. "No!" he growled, struggling to draw in enough air to keep his world from spinning. Why am I so light-headed? "I don't like you, Ushiwaka, and I never will! Now let me go already!"

With a carefully composed face, Ushijima took a half-step back, his hand falling from Oikawa's waist. The setter slid quickly from his spot against the wall, breathing a little easier once he gained a little distance from the taller male. It didn't look like Ushijima was going to say anymore, so Oikawa cautiously circled around him to pick up his bag from where he'd dropped it beside the locker room door a few moments ago.

Suddenly he felt Ushijima's grip around his hips, and he couldn't help the startled yelp that jumped from his throat. He heard the locker room door open, and then he was being pushed inside, feeling the hardness of the floor against his shoulder as he lost his balance and fell. The door slammed shut.

"I suppose," Ushijima's intimidating monotone went on, "that I'll have to make you like me."

Oikawa gasped when he felt a hand grip his knee, holding his left leg to the ground, while another hand crept up to hold his right hip. Ushijima leaned down over him, forcing their lips together even as Oikawa tried to squirm out of the too-strong grasp. He froze when he felt Ushijima's hand slip under the fabric of his shirt, rubbing against the skin of his waist.

"Let me go!" Oikawa gasped, his voice rising to a desperate squeak as Ushijima's hand ran over his skin, and in a flurry of motion Oikawa's shirt was pulled over his head.

"Sorry," Ushijima replied, though he didn't sound very sorry at all. "I need to show you how I feel."

"You don't need to show me, I get it!" Oikawa yelped as Ushijima's finger circled his nipple, flinching when the sensitive pink bud was squeezed lightly. His face felt like it was on fire, and his skin crawled with every touch. "Just let me go!"

Ushijima ignored Oikawa's desperate pleads, instead slipping a hand past the waistlines of the setter's sweatpants and boxers. Oikawa jerked his hips, sucking his breath through his teeth as his entire body fought to escape the offending touch. "Stop it!" he hissed, his voice shaking. Ushijima bent his head down, and Oikawa clenched his teeth when he felt the wet warmth of the spiker's tongue against his nipple. "Don't," he gasped, finding his fingers tangled in Ushijima's hair, struggling to pull him away.

Oikawa's body jerked again when he felt Ushijima's other hand join the first, slipping the waist of his sweatpants down his legs. "Stop!" he yelped, trying to pull away from Ushijima but the fabric tangled around his ankles made it hard to move, and his brain felt like it was full of fuzz, and his limbs weren't responding the way they usually did. His breath hitched when Ushijima's hand gripped his length, the ace's thumb rubbing against the sensitive tip.

"P-Please," Oikawa heard himself whisper, his entire body shuddering. He cracked his eyes open, not sure when he'd closed them, to see Ushijima licking his own fingers. "No," Oikawa breathed, as the spiker lowered his saliva-coated fingers. "No, no, nonononono—" his voice broke off into a startled sound as Ushijima pushed a single finger into his entrance. The intrusion felt alien and wrong, and it sent displeasure coursing through Oikawa's body.

Oikawa barely noticed when Ushijima paused to pull the sweatpants entirely off his legs, casting them aside. He lay entirely naked before the spiker, who looked down on him and said softly, "You were always so beautiful, Oikawa," before beginning to thrust his finger in and out. Oikawa clenched his teeth, struggling not to make any noises as his muscles tightened around Ushijima's finger.

"Relax, Oikawa," Ushijima spoke gently, moving his finger in and out quickly as Oikawa gasped for breath beneath him. "Just relax. It won't hurt, I promise."

"Just stop it!" Oikawa struggled to speak coherently between the pants and occasional yelps that escaped him. "This is—ahh—going too far! Hnng…" Ushijima slid a second finger in, quickly resuming his steady thrusts, and Oikawa let out a soft moan at the uncomfortable feeling. Suddenly Ushijima's other hand began moving up and down on Oikawa's length, and the setter's entire body spasmed at the feeling, his breath hitching and shuddering through his lungs.

The floor was hard against his shoulder blades and the air felt too warm against his skin. His muscles were burning, and he could feel the sweat sliding down his body. "Relax," Ushijima murmured again, his breath hot against Oikawa's chest, "Just relax." Oikawa's fingernails scraped against the floor as Ushijima began scissoring his fingers inside, pulling and stretching the tight muscles. Oikawa couldn't stop the soft groan that grated over the back of his throat and fell past his lips.

"You don't dislike it," Ushijima stated softly, his expression as unreadable as ever but a light of desire in his eyes.

Oikawa glared up at him. I want to punch you in the face, he thought, but his muscles were shaking too badly and he couldn't control them. "I hate it," he growled, satisfied by the way the words didn't waver, the syllables staying strong and confident throughout the sentence.

Ushijima frowned slightly, and Oikawa let out a half-moan, half-yelp sound as a third finger was pushed into him. "I just need to try harder, then," Ushijima murmured softly, seemingly to himself, and Oikawa let out another startled whimper when Ushijima thrust the three fingers in and out, in and out. "I promise, Oikawa," Ushijima whispered, "I'll make you like me." Ushijima bent down, and Oikawa flinched as he felt a wet warmth against the head of his length.

"N-No," he stammered, trying to twist his hips away, but Ushijima's left hand dug into his pelvis, holding him in place, while the ace's right hand continued to stretch him out. Oikawa couldn't control the moans that now escaped him with every other exhale. The heat danced across his skin, setting his nerve on fire, and his muscles just wouldn't relax—with every touch they would clench up or contract. The exhaustion, physically and mentally, was beginning to grate at Oikawa's mind already.

Ushijima's tongue swirled around his tip, and Oikawa jerked his hips at the feeling. He scraped his fingers across the hard floor again, clenching his teeth hard to muffle the noises that kept escaping him. "Stop it!" he gasped out as soon as he had enough breath to, and Ushijima paused, lifting his head to look at Oikawa with glazed eyes.

"Do you not like it?" Ushijima murmured, pulling his fingers from Oikawa's entrance, at which the setter let out a sigh of relief.

"No, I don't like it!" Oikawa yelped, his voice shrill. "Please, just let me go already! This is rape, don't you get it? Just stop…" Oikawa trailed off. What is he doing?! Ushijima was pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. "What…" Oikawa swallowed. "What are you doing?" The spiker quickly cast off his shorts along with his boxers, leaning down over Oikawa again.

"Getting undressed," Ushijima answered matter-of-factly. "So that I can have sex with you properly."

"No, no, no!" Oikawa almost shrieked, "Just let me go! Please!" he added desperately, but Ushijima didn't seem to care about his protests. Instead, Oikawa felt the tip of the spiker's erection press in between his legs, just barely touching his stretched-out entrance. "No, no," he mumbled, putting his arms across his face, feeling the harsh sting of tears in his eyes. "Please, no, not this, anything but—" he broke off into a hoarse scream as Ushijima pushed in to the hilt, in a single smooth motion.

The pain was almost unbearable. Despite all of the stretching, Oikawa still felt like all of his muscles were on fire, tearing to accommodate the overly large intruder. He felt tears of pain run down his face as his entire body shuddered from the unexpected feelings. It all felt so incredibly wrong, and he fought the sudden overwhelming urge to vomit.

"I'm sorry," Ushijima panted, gasping his words out in between desperate inhales. "I can't go slowly from here." With that, he pulled out then slammed back in again, drawing another scream of pain from Oikawa's aching throat. The scream dissolved into a sob halfway through, and his shoulders began to shake.

"St-top, ple-ease," Oikawa stuttered through his tears, the breaths shuddering unevenly through his lungs as his chest heaved and the sweat ran down his skin. His muscles contracted over and over again, until he felt like they were about to leap out of his skin.

"I'm sorry," Ushijima repeated, thrusting out then in again, repeating the motion. A groan of pain escaped Oikawa with every thrust, and he was certain he was being torn in two. He bit his lip to prevent the groans from being heard, but the sounds still resonated deep in his throat and the biting only added a sharp pain to yet another part of his body. I can't take this much pain, he thought helplessly.

"Stop, stop," he sobbed, scraping his fingernails against the floor and feeling them break and splinter from the force. Suddenly he found his mind wandering, thinking of his team, how they were probably waiting out in the bus for him. Oh, God, someone please come and get me, he pleaded in his mind, hoping to psychically send the message to one of his teammates. Knowing Iwaizumi, though, the spiker would probably tell the team to wait as long as it took for Oikawa to calm down after the disappointing loss. Fuck you, Iwa-chan, come help me!

"I really am sorry it had to be this way," Ushijima's voice broke into the blissful distraction of Oikawa's thoughts, tearing him back to the overwhelming pain of reality, "but I really do love you, Oikawa. You're beautiful. Even when you're in so much pain, there's still a beauty to you." Oikawa glared at Ushijima through tear-filled eyes, clenching his teeth against the screams of pain that struggled in his lungs.

"Fuck—you!" Oikawa spat out in between Ushijima's powerful thrusts. He felt like his insides were on fire, burning and roiling in agony.

"Oikawa," Ushijima murmured softly, drawing a hand gently across Oikawa's cheek. The setter's skin crawled underneath the touch. Ushijima brought his hand back, wrapping it around Oikawa's length.

"Ah!" Oikawa yelped as the grip tightened around his most sensitive part, and the spiker began to jerk him off. "Stop! No!" He grit his teeth as his body contracted once, twice, then again. His muscles were spastically clenching and unclenching at random moments, all over his body. Ushijima's hand moved quickly, giving an almost painful yet undeniable pleasure. In what felt like seconds, Oikawa was already near the edge. "No, no, no," he mumbled, tears trickling from beneath his closed eyelids as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, as if it would block out what was happening to him.

With a few more hard strokes, Oikawa felt his climax hit. With a groan of half-pain, half-pleasure, Oikawa felt the electricity run through his spine, causing his back to arch and his legs to curl around Ushijima's back. His body contracted again and again as he felt his own cum against his lower stomach, sliding uncomfortably across his skin. "Ahh!" he cried out, his toes curling and his now-broken fingernails scratching against the floor again.

"So beautiful," he heard Ushijima gasp out, and suddenly the spiker's hands moved to Oikawa's legs, pulling them away from his own body to spread them wider. Oikawa groaned as Ushijima hooked his hands under Oikawa's knees, holding the setter's long legs up and bracing his own knees on the floor in order to continue pounding into the shorter brunet. Sobs wracked Oikawa's shoulders now, heaving gasps of pain and humiliation tearing themselves from his lungs forcefully. "I'm going to—" Ushijima gasped.

Oikawa could only shake his head, his throat too choked with tears to allow any words, but it made no difference to the stronger brunet anyway. Ushijima slammed in hard to the hilt, and Oikawa caught his breath when he felt the spiker release deep inside of him. "Ugh!" Oikawa half-gagged at the feeling of the hot cum in him, a trickle of which began to slide down his thigh when Ushijima pulled out. Shaking, Oikawa felt the disgust rising in his throat and knew he couldn't hold it back, so he used all the energy he had left to force himself onto his hands and knees.

For a moment Ushijima and his deep voice faded into the background, and all Oikawa was focused on was breathing. The bile burned its way up his throat and in the back of his mouth, and suddenly his entire body heaved and his stomach fully rejected all of its contents onto the locker room floor. Ushijima's voice was getting louder, but Oikawa couldn't focus on it, didn't want to focus on it. He was able to draw in a quick breath of air before his stomach clenched again and another wave of acid escaped his throat. He gagged for a moment until he was finally able to catch his breath, his entire body shaking.

Slowly, Ushijima's voice became clearer. "…you ok? Oikawa, answer me, are you ok?"

"Leave me alone!" Oikawa screamed, whipping his head around to glare at the brunet. "Just go already! I hate you!" He couldn't stop his body from trembling. His arms barely supported his weight. "Leave me alone!" he gasped out, tears stinging in his eyes.

Ushijima hesitated for a moment. "I just…" he murmured, "I just wanted to…to show you…what we could have…"

"I don't want it!" Oikawa refused to look at Ushijima again, instead fixing his gaze on his own broken fingernails, which cut into his clenched fist. "Just leave! I don't want to see you!"

There was a moment of hesitation, and Ushijima slowly and softly said, "…Oikawa..." Oikawa choked down sobs, refusing to meet the spiker's gaze or answer. After what felt like a century, the setter finally heard Ushijima getting to his feet, moving around, most likely to retrieve his clothes. Oikawa curled in on himself, the stench of his own vomit reaching his nose, and didn't move a muscle even after he heard the locker room door open and close.

"What the fuck," he whispered to himself, his head whipping around to make sure Ushijima had really gone. "What the fuck. What the fuck." His head was pounding, his mind spinning. Tears escaped his eyes, one after the other, streaming down his cheeks. His entire body was shaking, trembling with rage and humiliation and a mixture of what felt like every emotion in the world. Why did it have to happen to me? he thought as he cried softly to himself. Why did it have to be me?

Stomach clenching in disgust, he forced himself to his feet. Immediately, his knees buckled and he fell against a row of lockers, the cold metal slamming against his shoulder. The initial pain of the impact barely even registered in his mind as the stabbing, grinding agony in his hips screamed the second he tried to move his legs. Another heavy sob shook his shoulders, and he leaned his forehead against the locker, hoping to clear his mind somehow. He took deep breaths, fighting to push the panic down.

"My team is waiting for me," he whispered softly, glancing around for his bag before he remembered that it had been left outside the locker room, dropped when Ushijima had shoved him in and shut the door behind them. He cast his gaze around the room, his eyes locking on the shower stalls against the wall. It wasn't that far away—ten feet or so. I have to get cleaned up. I can't face my team like this.

Throat choked with emotion, Oikawa began to crawl to the showers, moving with the tiniest of movements, as to minimize the amount of pain that burst up around his hips. It didn't take him long at all, surprisingly, and before he knew it, his sweat-soaked hair was pressed against the tile of one of the shower stalls. He blindly reached up a hand, twisting a knob to turn on the spray of water.

"Ah!" Oikawa let out a soft sound of surprise when the water immediately drenched him in coldness, and he quickly reached up again to twist the other knob. In no time, the water was evening out to a nice warm temperature. He sat on the tile for a few moments, allowing the steady streams to run over his exhausted muscles and wash the sweat from his skin. He tilted his head back, feeling the water wash over his hair and face as it turned steadily hotter.

Trying his best to literally forget everything that had just happened between him and Ushijima, Oikawa tugged a hand through his hair and shut the water off. I can't…I can't… His throat closed up again and he couldn't stop the tears from clouding his eyes. Struggling to breathe normally, he reached around for one of the towels that hung outside the shower stalls, and he buried his face in the soft fabric.

"Ahhhhh!" he suddenly screamed, his voice lost in the thickness of the towel. "Ahhhhh!" he screamed again, his voice muffled but still hoarse and breaking with rage—both at himself and Ushijima. "Fuck you!" he yelled into the towel, syllables broken by sobs, "Fuck you, Ushiwaka!" He dissolved into tears once more.

Oikawa wasn't sure just how much time he spent sobbing into the towel, but when the tears eventually stopped, his body was already dry. He made to crawl towards his clothes, abandoned on the floor a few feet away, and realized that the pain had mostly faded. The joints still held some residual traces of agony that fired up with every movement, but the pain in the muscles had worn away, turning just to simple exhaustion.

Moving slowly, his hands as numb as his mind, he dragged his boxers over his legs, fitting the waistband around his hips. The sweatpants followed suit, and then he slid his sneakers onto his feet. His shoulders still aching from where they'd been pushed against the ground, he struggled to pull the T-shirt over his head and fit his arms through the sleeves. Once more, he found himself in front of the mirrors, though his eyes were considerably redder now. He stared at his own reflection. Red, swollen eyes. Pale face. Wet, clumped lashes. Drawn, haggard expression. Pursed, shaking lips. Not to mention his entire body was still trembling uncontrollably.

What a lovely image of a team captain.

Um so chapter 2's going to be posted on Friday

Review please? ^_^