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Izuku is not entirely sure how he got here.
Well, maybe not like, here here. Obviously, he took the stairs and walked on his two legs to get here, in his dorm room. That part is pretty straightforward.
But – how he got here – laying on his bed, watching his favorite All Might documentary with Todoroki Shouto pressed against his back and an unnaturally warm arm wrapped around his waist – it’s confusing. How he could have gotten so lucky, that is.
It’s positively dizzying. They’ve never been close like this – not yet, at least. But a few days ago, he finally told Todoroki his secret, finally gained the courage to tell his best friend that he had feelings for him. And he still gets that buzzing feeling, that bright yet suffocating sensation that fills up his chest when he hears that sweet, soft voice in his memory that said “I like you, too.”
He almost can’t believe it. In fact, he’d probably convince himself that this was all a dream if it weren’t for Shouto’s steady breaths on the back of his neck, and his firm hand that’s bunched absently in the shirt fabric that covers Izuku’s stomach.
It’s wonderfully real, and so warm.
Izuku turns to face the other boy after the credits start to roll across the TV screen. Shouto accommodates the sudden movement, letting go of Izuku’s shirt as he twists. And then they’re face to face, their breaths hot in the tiny space between their faces.
“Hi,” Shouto says, with a small smile.
“Hi,” Izuku says back, giggling a bit as he brushes red hair from Shouto’s eyes. Their faces are so close, barely inches from each other. He can see every eyelash, both dimples, the entire scar. “Did you like the documentary?”
“I did,” he says, and Izuku can’t help but notice his half-lidded eyes gazing down at Izuku’s mouth for a second. “I like watching things with you.”
The air changes then, Izuku can feel it – there’s something static-y, something exciting and terrifying and wonderful just between them, in the few square inches between where both of their heads are laying on the pillows. Shouto’s left hand is resting gingerly on Izuku’s hip, and those eyes…
“I like watching things with you too,” Izuku finally replies, as the anticipation of the next few seconds swells. He’s staring at Shouto’s lips now, pink and sweet. “I like everything with you.”
And honestly he expected to be freaking out a little bit more, as both of them lean towards each other. He closes his eyes as their lips meet, and – it’s everything. It’s everything, even just as they are – inexperienced, tentative, shy but tender.
His first kiss. It finally happened, and with his favorite person, no less! Izuku’s about 99.99% sure it was Shouto’s first too, which makes it even more amazing.
They break apart after a few seconds, and Izuku’s eyes open to see Shouto staring at him too, his pink tongue darting across his lips as a bright pink flush spreads across his pale cheeks, visible even in the darkness. They share a look, eyes blown wide as something warm and wild swirls deep in Izuku’s stomach.
And then, and then – it’s on.
They swell to meet each other again, more hungry, more confident this time – still nervous and inexperienced, but without the initial awkwardness. The rigid “first kiss” expectations have suddenly fallen away, and now it’s just – them.
Just them. Just Izuku, and his unbelievably sweet, kind, and bafflingly attractive friend.
Shouto’s hand squeezes Izuku’s hip a little tighter as his lips part slightly, deepening the kiss little by little. And Izuku has to ground himself – what’s he supposed to do with his hands again?
He settles on placing his right hand on Shouto’s left cheek, cradling his face as he kisses and kisses. The skin under his palm is so warm.
And then Shouto makes this noise – this contented sigh that makes Izuku’s stomach swoop and twist like some sort of fiery rollercoaster right below his belly button. He runs his hand through Shouto’s hair, tangles his fingers in the silky crimson strands right behind his ear. He’s always wanted to do this – his hair always looked so soft. It’s surreal – it feels like he’s floating.
It feels a little too floaty when Shouto places his warm hand on Izuku’s back under his shirt. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, and opens his eyes again.
Shouto is laying there, staring and staring with wide, unblinking eyes. His hair is ruffled and he’s breathing heavy with parted lips, and it’s – it’s hot.
Slowly, but with sudden confidence, Izuku pushes gently on Shouto’s shoulder so that he’s laying flat on his back. Izuku then straddles him, placing a knee on either side of Shouto’s hips on the bed as he sits gingerly on his lap.
And if it wasn’t wildly hot before, the feeling of Shouto under him, the feeling of Shouto hard under him – he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.
“Is this okay?” he asks, looking at Shouto’s eyes. His hair is splayed across the pillow and his chest is heaving beneath Izuku’s hand, which is resting on Shouto’s sternum.
The boy swallows heavily as he stares back at Izuku. “Yes.”
Izuku exhales, and leans forward slowly as Shouto gingerly places his hands on Izuku’s hips again. Now their chests are flush together, and Izuku rests his left hand on Shouto’s face again as their lips meet once more.
It would be one thing if Shouto was just attractive. He’s obviously good looking – everyone in their class thinks so. Probably almost everyone in the school does, if he’s being honest. He’s kind of famous to begin with, being Endeavor’s son, and fame always draws people’s attention. But his looks – those eyes, that hair, his strong, tall frame – it’s easy to see why he gets quite a few gifts on Valentine’s day.
But what makes this so dizzying – what drives Izuku absolutely mad as his stomach twists and burns and his pants get a little too tight – is that he likes Todoroki so much. He likes his soft voice, his gentle kindness and compassion that he shows his friends, his sweet smile that so rarely shows on his face. He never dreamed of having the privilege of caressing his face, of running a hand through his soft hair, of making Todoroki Shouto feel good.
It makes all of this so maddeningly immersive, so unbelievably surreal that Izuku is trying to memorize every moment, every sweet sound, every feeling of hot arousal combined with deep-rooted endearment. He gets so lost in it, so focused on kissing touching kissing that he doesn’t hear the soft voice beneath him.
“Izuku,” Shouto says quietly as Izuku peppers kisses on his neck, his entire attention focused on the cold skin beneath his lips, and how soft it was, how good it smelled.
“Izuku, wait,” he says again after a few seconds, as his hands move from Izuku’s hips up to either side of his arms, resting gently.
“Mmm?” Izuku replies, as he moves back to Shouto’s lips again.
“Wait, I– stop, please,” he says, breathlessly. And that —
That soft voice, the desperate way he says it – it’s like the hot arousal that was burning in Izuku’s stomach was abruptly extinguished with acid. Suddenly his chest hurts, his stomach curdles, suddenly Shouto’s face is different than it was just seconds ago. And he feels – he feels like a monster.
Izuku falls backwards off of his lap as hot shame claws at his cheeks, and he tries putting as much space between himself and Shouto as he can. His chest aches and aches – he should’ve been more careful, less selfish–
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Shouto I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry, I–” he says, breathing heavy as guilt digs into his chest.
Shouto is propped up on his elbows, his chest heaving as he stares just like before, but with eyes that look far away.
“I– it’s not you,” he says softly, staring off into space. “I just — it’s… a lot.” The flush is still high on his cheeks as he looks down at the blanket beneath them. “I’m sorry.”
It’s like there’s a black hole in the middle of Izuku's ribs, and it’s ripping his insides apart. “I’m so sorry, Shouto, I’m just.. I’ve never done this before either so I thought you were enjoying it but you weren’t and I’m so sorry and I just–”
“I was enjoying it,” Shouto interrupts, looking serious. “That’s just it – I’ve never–” his eyes dart back and forth, scanning Izuku’s face from across the bed. He sits up and scoots a little closer, crossing his legs.
Shouto takes a deep breath, and looks at the floor. “I’ve never felt that good before. I’ve never–... Touching has never felt so good before.”
It’s confusing. It’s so confusing. Maybe it would make more sense – maybe he’d have more bandwidth to think if there wasn’t a ridiculously hard erection pressing against the zipper of his pants. It’s like someone dumped ice water on him, and now he’s left sputtering, confused, disoriented.
“It’s hard to explain,” Shouto continues. “I just.. I’m not used to this type of – this stuff,” he stutters. “It’s just… scary. To feel so good. I didn’t even know it was possible.”
Shouto’s voice is so timid, so unsure as he says it, staring at the floor as if it holds all the world’s secrets. “I just want to savor it,” he says. “I want to go slow.”
And just like that, Izuku’s heart stutters in his chest as he’s swept away in a riptide of emotions. Arousal, insecurity, fondness, embarrassment, sadness, happiness.
It’s so complicated. Everything is so complicated. But Shouto– Shouto makes things so simple. Shouto is so painfully genuine, so lovely and sweet and unassuming, just as inexperienced and afraid as Izuku is, if not more so.
But there’s something he left unsaid, something that he trusted Izuku would understand: he’s used to pain. He’s used to loneliness, abuse, abandonment, training training training. And yet he’s here in one piece, sitting across from Izuku surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, his lips reddened from kissing earlier. He’s the embodiment of strength and resilience; raised by brutality and somehow coming out full of grace, despite everything.
And in that moment, in the tense silence between them, Izuku realizes – he has never felt such kinship with anyone else before. He’s never realized just how much they have in common – after all, he’s also endured years and years of pain and loneliness, years of hand-shaped burns on his arms and living in isolation. He’s just as afraid as Shouto is, probably.
Izuku understands. Probably more than anyone else, he understands.
It’s easy to forget it, but they’re just teenagers, after all. It feels like the world is on their shoulders sometimes, like any mistake at all can have literally dire consequences. But here, together, they can learn.
They can be.
“You’re my best friend,” Izuku blurts suddenly, as overwhelming fondness for the boy in front of him fills him up. The backs of his eyes burn as the swirling sea of emotions finally starts to ebb.
“You’re my best friend too,” Shouto responds quietly. He scoots over to Izuku and grabs his hand, clasping it between one warm and one cool hand. “Sorry for ruining the fun.”
Izuku shakes his head swiftly. “You didn’t ruin anything, and I’m glad you said something. I’m sorry for– for not paying better attention. I want to take it slow, too.” There’s a pause, and Izuku wipes his eyes. “It was pretty fun though.”
Shouto smirks. “It was very fun.” His cheeks get a little bit more pink. “I like you so much, Midoriya.”
Izuku can’t help but giggle, feeling almost lightheaded. It’s honestly ridiculous – from combat, to school assignments, to confessions of feelings; Shouto makes everything look so easy. He’s unapologetically himself.
Izuku wraps him up swiftly in a hug as the tears in his eyes start to well up again. He should probably respond, but he’s too afraid the other “L” word might fall out of his mouth.
A kiss on the cheek should get the message across, though.