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There are certain things that are harder to be impartial or objective about than others.
Whether your taste in music is ‘good’ or not.
How much something hurts you compared to the same injury on someone else.
If your kid is really the cutest or if they’re just yours.
And, Keigo learns on a Saturday afternoon in May, whether or not you look silly crossdressing in lingerie and an outfit made of clothes designed for women.
The outfit isn’t so bad. Technically, it’s just a skirt and a top, nothing too crazy. A pleated white tennis skirt with a high waist, leaving it to hit just above his belly button. The top is cropped and tightly fitted, leaving a small strip of his golden skin bare between the end of it and the skirt’s waistband. It’s clinging to his torso, highlighting his lean and light musculature, as well as his nipples, stiff from looking at his reflection and poking at the fabric lewdly.
But does the positioning of the top’s hem and skirt’s waistband really make his waist look slimmer, or is he just seeing what he wants? Does the swell of his pecs, barely there but definitely there nonetheless, look as enticing as he thinks through the stretchy white material? Do his biceps look bigger because of the way the short sleeves hug them, and if they do, does it ruin how feminine he thinks he looks?
Keigo can’t definitively answer any of that, so he flips his skirt up to look at the lingerie beneath.
Translucent black stockings stretch up the length of his legs, toe to mid-thigh, where white silk suspenders clasp onto them. The lines of the suspenders draw the eye further up, until a pair of soft, black lace panties come into view. They’re flimsy, barely covering his dick even while it’s still soft. Resting above the panties, hidden from view beneath the skirt’s waistband, is a white suspender belt.
If Keigo turns around, he’ll see the most obscene thing of all about this outfit that he and his Izu had picked out together; the lack of back on the panties.
But do his legs really look soft and inviting in the hose, or are they too muscular to pull them off? Do the black suspenders stand out too starkly against his soft, blond leg hair and golden skin? Does his soft cock look as gift-wrapped as it's supposed to, enshrouded in the partially see-through lace, and even if it does, how are they going to look once he’s stiff and stretching them out?
More questions he knows he can’t really answer.
Only his Izu, waiting for Keigo in their large and homey living room, can do that for him.
Keigo takes a fortifying breath and drops the hem of his skirt, smoothing the pleats back into place as his stockinged toes curl against the bathmat.
Showtime.
When Keigo had walked into their bedroom, shy and uncertain in a completely new way, Izuku won’t lie — he’d thought that he'd never seen anything hotter in his life and likely never would.
The way Keigo’s thighs had pressed together, anxiously squeezing and causing the smallest amount of skin to spill over the stocking tops.
The way the skirt had swished around Keigo’s toned legs and sat perfectly on his waist, highlighting the slender curve of it.
The way his nipples had pressed against the inside of the top, arousal evident even if he was nervous as all hell to be dressed that way for the first time.
Fifteen minutes later, as Izuku mouths at his boyfriend’s chest through white fabric, now see-through from saliva, Keigo’s hips twitching forward and seeking friction, those pretty legs dangling over each side of Izuku's lap, Izuku revises his earlier statement.
This is even hotter to bear witness to.
His hands have been gradually working their way further up Keigo’s legs, appreciating the silky glide of the stockings as he goes, and he’s finally reached the top of them.
Izuku squeezes around the stocking tops, eliciting a gasp from his boyfriend, before slipping his fingers beneath the suspenders and snapping them against Keigo’s skin.
That gets him a sharp inhale and Izuku hums at the sound, delighted by it.
“Did you remember to prepare yourself, Princess?” Izuku asks casually. Keigo makes a sort of hhnnng noise as he jerks an approximation of a nod, shivering at the pet name. Izuku slowly slides one hand up the strip of bare thigh until he brushes against lace, which he forces himself to ignore in favour of reaching around to Keigo’s ass.
As requested, there’s a plug nestled between his cheeks. It’s one of the slimmer ones they own, he can tell from the material and the shape of the base. Izuku grabs hold of the flared bottom and pushes it in a little further before pulling it back and stretching Keigo a little more when he leaves the widest point right at Keigo’s rim.
Keigo whimpers. “Please.” The word comes out as a whisper, barely audible. When Izuku stays put he tries to roll his hips, but the toy goes no further inside of him thanks to Izuku’s quick reflexes pulling it away in time. “Please, Izuku,” he repeats a little louder, a little more desperately.
“Please what, Sweetheart?” Izuku purrs. His boyfriend full-body shudders at the endearment just as he had with ‘princess’ as he asks, so nicely and without any of his usual bedroom cockiness, if Izuku will please fuck him. Stressing that he needs to feel Izuku inside of him.
The phrasing gives Izuku a wicked idea.
He slides the plug the rest of the way out of his boyfriend and sets it off to the side before telling Keigo to swivel around so he’s got his back to Izuku’s chest but to resume the same straddling position once he’s turned around.
Keigo does as he’s told, soft and compliant in a way that’s dangerously addictive already, and as he shifts and shuffles, Izuku unfastens his pants to free his own cock. It slaps up against his abdomen, thick, hard, and beading pre-come at the tip.
“Ah-ah,” Izuku says before Keigo can relax into his new position, “not quite, Princess. Lean forward and put your palms on the floor for me, hm?”
Keigo hisses a breath in surprise but follows the instructions. It pushes his pert ass backwards, closer to Izuku’s erection, and forces the pleated skirt to reveal more of Keigo’s skin to him.
The sight of Keigo’s stretched hole, wet with lube, just beneath the prim and proper white fabric, is utterly sinful.
“Good,” murmurs Izuku, “now, push those little hips back for me, Sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it, almost there, you’re doing so well, so good for me.”
When the tip of Izuku’s cock, angled by Izuku’s grip on himself, touches Keigo’s rim, Keigo moans low in his throat, the sound drawing out as he manages to squirm around until he’s got half of Izuku’s length in his body.
The whole time, Izuku is murmuring praise, telling Keigo how pretty he looks, how beautiful his body is, and how lucky Izuku is to see his boyfriend dressed up the way he is.
The strained groan from Keigo when the position won't allow him to take any more of his boyfriend’s hard-on makes Izuku smirk. He loves Keigo’s confidence in bed, but this Keigo, debauched and demure, certainly isn’t without his own unique appeal.
*Aw, Sweetheart,” he says with fake concern, “are you a bit desperate for more of my cock?”
“Yes,” Keigo returns emphatically. Izuku hums as if he’s considering something.
“I could have you sit up, but then I wouldn’t have this view, would I?” He teases in the most sincere tone he can manage when it’s becoming an effort for him not to just thrust up into his boyfriend. “I wouldn't be able to see this skirt, so pure and white, brushing the top of your pretty little hole stretched out around me. You wouldn't want to deprive me of that view, would you, Princess?”
All he gets back is a frustrated moan.
“But I suppose I wouldn't want to deprive you, either, my pretty girl, so…” Izuku purposefully lets the incomplete sentence hang in the air a moment too long before finishing with, “…sit up for me, hm? Sit up and take me in properly, Keigo.”
Keigo is upright in a flash, swaying as the blood rushes back out of his head after being partway upside down for a while, whimpering at the sudden fullness of his entrance as he regains his balance with Izuku’s hands steadying him.
“Izuku, fuck,” he moans, voice thick with lust. “Fuck, you’re so deep.”
Gritting his teeth in an effort to keep his cool despite the tight, wet heat now surrounding his most sensitive parts, Izuku keeps his hands firm on Keigo’s hips. The tennis skirt’s material is soft between his fingertips and Izuku still can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be the guy Keigo is comfortable enough to wear it for.
A lifetime of knowing he’s into all this stuff, without ever trying it, until Izuku’s very enthusiastic reaction to the embarrassed admission of liking the idea of skirts and lingerie and like I’m your pretty girl had spurred this into reality.
Keigo goes to rock his hips.
Izuku's unyielding grip doesn’t let him.
“Izu, what—?” Keigo asks in pleading confusion. Izuku’s earlier smirk returns.
“You said you were desperate for more of my cock, Princess. You didn’t say anything about getting fucked, though, so now you’re gonna sit still like a good girl, and when I think you’ve behaved long enough, I’ll fuck you until you pass out. How’s that sound, hm?”
Keigo’s long, vehement moan is answer enough, but the single, sure tap he gives Izuku’s hand as part of their nonverbal safeword system certainly helps Izuku to be sure.
Izuku shifts, getting comfortable, and dragging Keigo with him until they’re reclined against the couch back, Keigo’s head pillowed on Izuku's chest.
It allows Izuku to see what he's been blind to due to their positioning until now, and it takes every shred of his willpower not to just thrust into Keigo immediately at the sight of it.
Keigo’s cock, rock-hard, tenting the tennis skirt very visibly.
“Fuck,” Izuku mutters under his breath.
Keigo is trying to be patient, he really is. He wants nothing more than for his boyfriend to pound into him, just absolutely rail him right the fuck now, but something about the way he’s dressed has shifted things in his mind and left him hungry to obey.
So he waits.
And waits.
And waits until he’s squirming, unable to control it, hips bucking even against his will. Each shift of his pelvis makes the skirt’s material brush over the leaking head of his cock, sending shocks of pleasure down his spine, and God, if just that feels like nirvana, how good will his boyfriend finally fucking him make him feel?
“Aht,” Izuku tuts at yet more jerking from Keigo’s hips. “You’re not very good at doing what you’re told, are you, Princess?”
Keigo whimpers pathetically. “Please, Izu, please? My cock is— and your cock feels— I just— please?” He feels the shake of Izuku’s head even if he doesn’t see it, but before he can complain, there’s a hand wrapping around his cock, pressing the fabric covering it to his aching length.
“Oh, shit,” he whines as Izuku begins to slowly stroke him through the damp material of his tennis skirt. “Shit, shit, shit,” he chants in time with the pumps of Izuku’s fist. His hips have a mind of their own, trying to chase the source of pleasure in little aborted thrusts that really get him nowhere thanks to Izuku’s free arm being wrapped around Keigo’s stomach to hold him in place.
Every now and then, they’ll shift in subtly different directions and Keigo’s eyes will end up rolling back in his head at the feeling of Izuku brushing over his prostate, but otherwise, he’s painfully static and completely dependent on his boyfriend for any and all stimulation.
“Tell you what, Princess,” Izuku purrs silkily in his ear, breath hot against Keigo’s flushed skin, ‘I’ll make you a deal. You flip your cute little skirt up so I can properly appreciate your panties, and I’ll fuck you properly.”
Keigo whines helplessly. He wants, oh, he wants that, but a small shred of him is still struggling with one of the questions that he’d thought earlier, looking in the mirror.
How are the panties going to look once they’re stretched out?
Almost all traces of doubt had been wiped from existence by Izuku’s darkening eyes and practically growled-out demand for Keigo to ‘get his pretty ass over there so he could be worshipped like he deserved,’ because it would be virtually impossible to misinterpret the visceral approval in those words, but for some reason, this new request is tripping him up.
As if he can sense the reason for Keigo's pitiful whining and hesitation, Izuku kisses up the column of his neck with devotion, until his lips reach Keigo’s ear. “Please, Baby Girl?” He murmurs softly, a violent shudder rolling through Keigo’s body at the new pet name. He clenches around Izuku’s girth in automatic response to it, his lips parting to moan breathlessly.
“There's nothing,” Izuku continues to whisper, “that you could ever wear, do, or say, that would make you anything less than perfection to me. Understand, Princess?” He cants his hips upwards, just once, at the same time as pumping Keigo’s skirt-covered cock, and Keigo’s breath trembles out of his lungs at the sudden increase in his fullness. “Nothing could make me want you less.”
Keigo’s head is nodding mindlessly as he grabs the hem of his skirt, Izuku letting go of Keigo’s arousal so that the white fabric, complete with a translucent spot from having pre-come rubbed mercilessly into it, can be flicked up and out of the way.
Izuku’s groan tears from the bottom of his throat, deep and dirty. “Sweetheart,” he grates out tightly, “fucking look at you.”
It takes a moment, but Keigo complies, letting his gaze fall to his exposed crotch. His cock, standing up at a slight angle, looks Goddamn obscene sticking out past the waistband of the lacy underthings. The slit is soaked with pre-come, his entire cockhead wet-looking, in fact, and the panties cling to his length by a wish and a prayer, looking one twitch away from falling away completely.
Izuku chuckles approvingly, dark and deceptively soft like a black storm cloud, at Keigo’s debauched moan. “Fucking perfection,” he whispers smugly, “just like I said.”
“Fuck me, Izuku,” Keigo pleads, “you said you would and I need it, need you, please, Izu.”
“With pleasure,” Izuku all but snarls into Keigo’s shoulder, depositing one, final, sweet kiss there before resettling his hands on Keigo’s hips and drawing them back. Once only his tip remains enveloped in Keigo’s hole, his boyfriend slams back in.
Keigo screams, and he is lost.
Izuku curses under his breath as he proceeds to pound into Keigo. Their position, the way he’s slouching on the couch, doesn't allow for too much thrusting space, but it has enough, and Izuku makes up for the rest with the sheer force he puts behind the motion of his hips.
Keigo’s wet heat flutters erratically around his length, the sudden influx of stimulation surely overwhelming after so long of being kept on edge by warming Izuku’s cock and only being touched through fabric, and each squeeze of the muscles surrounding him drags Izuku closer to that blissful peak.
His boyfriend’s been squirming and trying to writhe on his dick for God knows how long by this point, so he’s not surprised by the fact he's close to blowing already. Keigo’s ass, stretched out by the plug but still so tight around Izuku’s erection, clenching on the intrusion within it, had felt good enough that only Izuku’s iron will had stopped him from fucking up into his pretty boyfriend sooner.
That, and his intention to make the afternoon more about Keigo’s pleasure than his own.
A litany of lewd sounds spills from Keigo, his voice high and choked from pleasure. None of them are words, just a collection of whimpers, whines, and moans that make Izuku’s erection throb to hear, knowing he’s the cause of them.
If he stretches his neck awkwardly, he can see Keigo’s stomach muscles tensing in time with the tightening of his walls, alongside Keigo’s flushed cock bouncing from the force of Izuku’s thrusts. It only heightens Izuku’s arousal, but he refrains from doing it too often, concentrating on his hidden goal of making Keigo come untouched for the first time.
He’s never been able to do it, always needing a hand around his cock to reach completion, but Izuku thinks if he’s ever going to, it's now. Indulging in the three kinks he’s always been drawn to for the very first time. With Izuku able to thrust into him hard and hilt-deep, Izuku’s confident that once he changes the angle of his hips to hit his boyfriend’s prostate, Keigo won’t be able to help coming with all these things combined.
A loud sob of pleasure tells him when he’s found the right spot inside of Keigo, and Izuku continues to strike it on every forceful thrust inwards now that he knows where he’s aiming.
“Izuku, I—! Fuck, Izu, I think, haahhh, I think I’m gonna come,” Keigo manages to whine out, voice wrecked from all his shouting, and Izuku’s cock jerks.
“Come for me then, pretty girl. Squeeze that tight ass around my cock and come; make a mess of those lovely panties of yours for me,” Izuku encourages, the words bitten out haltingly from behind his clenched teeth. He can tell he’s close himself, but he’s not coming until his boyfriend does.
He won’t.
Sharp, staccato pants punctuate Keigo's delirious screams of oh, fuck! and Izu, oh God, oh shit, occasionally interspersed with an attempt to comment on the intensity of what he’s feeling that he never manages to finish before Izuku’s cock is hitting his prostate again and pulling another yell of pleasure from him.
“I’m co— hhnnng— coming, I’m coming!” Keigo cries out, walls contracting and clamping around Izuku’s cock as he twists and jerks on Izuku's lap. Izuku manages to watch his boyfriend’s hardness spilling white ropes in a surprisingly high arc for just a second. Then, his eyes reflexively slam shut, his own orgasm exploding through his body as Keigo’s ass continues to clench through his first untouched orgasm.
Keigo whimpers when he becomes more sensitive and Izuku is still grinding against his ass, cock pumping the evidence of his pleasure out in breath-stealing waves, but it doesn’t take long for Izuku to finish fully and still his hips, relieving Keigo of the overstimulation.
Much to Izuku’s disappointment, he doesn’t manage to make Keigo pass out from getting fucked, but he finds out he has managed to make his entire body numb and tingly from the waist down when Keigo is once again capable of speech to tell him as much.
As long as Keigo enjoyed what they did, that outcome is just fine with Izuku, and from the soft, blissed-out grin his boyfriend gives him when their eyes meet over Keigo’s shoulder, he'd say he definitely accomplished that.