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The moan that wracks Bakugou’s form when a calm hand brushes down his back is ridiculous. This entire situation is equally so. He hadn’t anticipated on the night going like this, especially not after how long the day had been. Aizawa must have felt particularly unforgiving on their training today, and if the aching pulse couldn’t override the hurt in his muscles, nothing else would.
But he would make it for now, focusing on digging his nails into the solid body above his, grinning down at him in a genuine sort of fascination, red hair ungelled and very very soft after the night’s shower. His feet angle into the gentle dips in Kirishima’s back, beckoning him forward in a jerky, selfish sort of movement. He follows along to humor poor Bakugou, still peering down at him and crooning soft words.
Turning his head away is the first mistake, letting out a soft sound when Eijirou bites at his neck with his shark fangs, which then lower to his neck. The marks are placed tactically where they could be hidden, only a spare one or two coming into question if someone were to pay crucial attention to the collar of Bakugou’s shirt. Due to the rapid changing of hands between these actions, Kirishima is now enlightened once again, thankful for the lackluster behavior from his companion after their exhausting day. It allows him to catch Bakugou off of his prime behavior and dig deep to what he was trying for. The soft underbelly of his shell bound self.
His fingers are still guiding smooth strokes to and fro in Bakugou’s warm hole, somewhere in the background he hears The Wombats. Bakugou wonders in the back of his mind if Kirishima had his quirk activated when he decided this song needed to be added to the mirage of them fucking, but his musing is kept to the sidelines mostly. When he’s less tied up, Bakugou will bitch the other out to his fullest extend. The first step is to get his breath back, scrambling on the sheets and desperately trying to shut him up.
“You’re so great y’know?” This is muttered right against Bakugou’s collarbone. He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth.
“Do you know how to shut up for even one second you absolute shith- fucking shit.” The scathing remark is abruptly shut down when Kirishima crooks his fingers, drawing out a cracked groan instead of his insult, only furthering his annoyance to a new degree. And judging by Kirishima’s face when he pulls back, he knows it too.
When his fingers pull out abruptly, Bakugou is four seconds from begging. From making a scene and embarrassing himself more than unfathomably possible. His saving grace is very on the nose, Bakugou’s idiotic boyfriend’s mouth on his own. About fucking time as well. The pause between mouth to mouth contact had grown nearly uncomfortable in it’s extended breaks.
This distracts him from the quiet uncapping of the lube for its second grand appearance into their activities. The he effects not quite reaper for a long minute after, until Kirishima’s damp fingers wipe off on his thigh, and Bakugou feels the head of his cock presenting itself less than subtly this second time around. The pressure is a delicious thing, forcing himself to relax before he can start to think about how this stupid softcore rock is digging a tempo deep in his chest, just barely off kilter to his racing heart.
Kirishima presses in slowly, still whispering against his cheek as he did so, Bakugou’s face meeting the same vibrant shade his Quirk usually supplied instead, this made for shitty footwork on his part. And most certainly not something he intended on sharing either. Hands already clasped to the curve of Eijirou’s shoulders, his face buried in the crook of his neck, letting out slow breaths as the other pushed and pushed and pushed. When he bottomed out with a soft curse, Kirishima backed up to look down at the other again, the same twisted look of concern passing his face as he looked the other over in a calculated sort of way. It was obnoxious in a way that had Bakugou snarling instead of the glazed over look that had previously occupied him.
“C’mon, Katsuki. I’m trying to make sure you’re okay.” Stupid. Absolute dumbass. If his brain hadn’t short-circuited from Kirishima pulling out slow and easy, it would've from such a casual use of his own name, like it was pure joy on his lips. Like a little kid who’d finally gotten the toy he’d wanted for so long.
“I’d be a whole lot fuckin’ better if you’d just hurry up and get to the good part.” Bakugou said. “Pretty sure I asked you to fuck me, not take my fucking pulse.”
He’s breathless, and it ruins the terse, serious nature to his hashing. When Eijirou braced his hands again to slot against Katsuki’s hips, stepping up to the challenge in startling alertness. The kiss pressed to the blond’s temple borders on charitable, but Bakugou would be hard pressed to look for his words when complaining about that one.
Huffing indignantly, Kirishima shuts up his counterpart by pulling out and sucking the air from Bakugou’s lungs in the same sweeping motion. He bites down on the edge of red tinted lips and it’s likely the most unintentionally sweet thing Bakugou’s seen in a while. The realization of weakness follows suit, as does Kirishima’s slow push back in. He doesn’t want to risk hurting the other, even as he pretends that the stretch isn’t pressing an unpleasant burn to his senses. Thankfully this doesn’t last much longer, sinking feels easier, his hands slide against the bare beginnings of sweat slicked skin. “God damn- fucking. Shit.”
Faintly the song switches, a moan drops from Bakugou;s lips in startling volume. So much so that Eijirou’s ernest fucking stutters and he lets out a laugh, lifting a hand to brush back soft bangs as he shushed Bakugou lightly. They both know it doesn’t mean a damn thing unless Bakugou decides he’ll be shutting up and he takes pity to those sharing rooms next door to either of his sides.
“So fucking hot,” Kirishima’s voice takes a huskier note than Bakugou is completely comfortable hearing. It twists his skin in ways he can’t quite seem to control. “Perfect. Dammit Katsuki, you’re doing things to me.” He obviously isn’t filtering his thoughts, there’s hardly time between the steep slaps that fill the room as he sets a harsher pace. It wasn’t entirely by design and more built to please Bakugou who had started to dig his heels in tighter to retaliate to the unnecessary praise.
How he was expected to draw out his orgasm and ignore the wave revolting in his lower abdomen is beyond Bakugou, but he does his best regardless. Bakugou’s never drowned, but he’s starting to think this is the same feeling. Grasping for breath between keening moans and sharp exhales of pleasure, nearly uncensored entirely. His limbs feel heavy and murky on soft sheets. It sounds like a low budget porn script, and nothing angers Bakugou more effectively than the realistic value to that comparison.
“Fuck. Holy shit, Kirishima.”
“I can’t hold on like this.”
“Don’t.”
It’s a one word command Kirishima can’t help but utterly bow to, leaning forward to kick up Bakugou’s hips to a new angle, pivoting his lower half forward toward his shoulders. If he was more flexible his knees could probably knock against his own shoulders. English vocals, slow like molasses croon and bend around them. It mingles between panting and warning words, his hand falls to grasp at the pillow his head was cradled gently against. His free hand glided through Kirishima’s hair, tugging in desperate little motions as he tried to coax the other to follow his lead.
Well on his way to the cliff edge of his climax, Bakugou can’t bring himself to care about the warning Kirishima produces toward him about his unraveling control, just clenching around his cock and seizing some when the other came with a breathy noise he swore could wake up the hall. Even as the warmth that encompassed his insides, filling him in a mostly uncomfortable influx continued, Kirishima fucked into him, his free hand wrapping around Bakugou’s cock. Twisting his fingers up Bakugou’s shaft and twisting in a small flick, Katsuki was impervious to the coils tightened to a razor thin wire.
When it snapped his head fell back, eyes rolling back in a blissed out pleasure he couldn’t seem to get enough of. It seeped into his bones and kept him from hearing Kirishima’s praise for a solid few beats before things started to come back.
His feet were planted into sheets, most certainly leaking even before Kirishima had pulled out. Legs hiked up against Eijirou’s thighs, he sucks in a few breaths and sinks fully into the sheets. Hovering above him Kirishima touches his cheek and hums a soft nose as he noses into Bakugou’s cheek.
Narrowly avoiding a grasp that was likely going to keep him pulled in for the rest of the night easily, he snatched a few tissues to clean the both of them up to the best of his ability before tossing them and working on rearranging the sheets.
It was perfectly calm now, fucked out of his usual outstandish attitude in favor of lying quietly with a body coated over his own. His sweat cleaned fingers tangled soft shapes and pressures into red hair, twirling them to keep his mind active. It was hard to want to sleep after something like that, but the sleep sunk into his bones first before it started to ache at his eyelids.
Still spread on the bed, Kirishima having pulled out a while ago, he rested between Bakugou’s legs and looked up at him once the hand playing in his hair had started to slow. Gauging the other’s expression in a quiet contemplation, grin sussed out to be a dangerous side effect of their rendezvous.
“I think I love you.” Kirishima said, all honesty and wide eyes as he propped his chin up against Bakugou’s chest. “Bad time to say it?”
“I’ll fuckin’ say. Springing that on me like it wasn’t even a problem in the first place.”
“So me saying I love you is a problem now?”
“It was always a problem. You just weren’t stupid enough to say it before.” That gains him a barely there laugh. If he hadn’t felt the shaking of Kirishima’s shoulders he may as well have assumed his joke landed flat. That never quite seemed to the case though, and he adjusted himself on the soiled bed sheets, the comforter pulled up and over the both of them. The room had chilled so fast it caught them by surprise, taking precautions to avoid taking up miserable the next day.
“I love you too.” Bakugou doesn’t look to meet the other’s eyes, just lurches his head at the perking in Kirishima’s posture and shoves his face when he tries to lean obnoxiously toward him, even if it proved to be useless. “You aren’t gonna just keep getting away with shit like that. You’ll run out of stupid things to say, shitty hair. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Looks like it isn’t tonight though. And I have some pretty good stuff lined up for next time. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, there’s no way I’m gonna let you stop me early.” That’s when Bakugou’s quick to interject, laughing quietly. “Challenge accepted. You’re gonna rue the day.”
“Katsuki no- absolutely not. Don’t ruin my progress like that. I can’t just let you step all over my plans the first time you hear about them, that isn’t how this works. I need to have my charming and romantic moment! How else am I supposed to sweep you off your feet, bro?”
A grin cracks over Bakugou’s face at the dramatic emphasis in Kirishima’s simple words, let along his choice of them. Instead he shakes his head in disbelief and lets it slide on a warning. Still stroking Kirishima’s hair to keep his head down and planted firmly to his own chest, he revels in their moment. It won’t be long before the other has to make way back to his own room so he holds him instead.
“Yeah, sure. Shut the fuck up.”