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saturnsorbits · 3 years ago

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Play Away: Part Two

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Frottage, Rimming (M - Receiving), Anal (M - Receiving), Soft Sex, Disussion of Cheating, One Very Mild Panic Attack, KiriBaku. Word Count: 13.4k.

-> Series Masterlist

Bakugo tosses his keys into the small ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. The metallic clang rings out around the apartment, echoing back at him from empty corners and window'ed walls. There's a numbness in his chest that he can't seem to shake when he pads to the fridge and yanks it open. For a minute he just stands there, listening to the buzz of the fridge and the gurgling of his stomach, but he closes it again without taking anything out. The buzzing of his phone rocks him out of his daze, causing him to drift back to the counter. It's a text message. The new one adds to a notification bar of more until the whole screen is burning bright with a near constant stream of messages.

From: Shitty Hair 'Kaminari ate your lunch.'

From: Shitty Hair '… Are you coming back?'

From: Shitty Hair 'I'm assuming that's a no.'

From: Shitty Hair 'Can we talk?'

From: Shitty Hair 'You can't just kiss someone like that and leave...'

From: Shitty Hair 'Are you okay?'

From: Shitty Hair 'I'm getting worried.'

From: Shitty Hair 'Bakugo...'

From: Shitty Hair 'I'm not doing this. I'm coming over.'

Bakugo sighs. The last message had been delivered only twenty minutes ago, which gave him about five more before he had an irate red-head banging on his door. He could pretend not to be in, could turn off all the lights and hide in his bedroom with the blinds shut, but Bakugo has never been a coward. Busying about the kitchen, he pulls two cups from the stand in the corner and flicks on the kettle. He puts sugar in one, keeps the other black and waits, hands splayed on the counter of the water to boil. There's something bubbling in his chest as he imagines Kirishima, somewhere, making his way slowly to his apartment. It's a new sensation, one that threatens to burn his chest and constrict his throat, but it's not all bad. He swallows, pushing down the faint slither of excitement that worms its way through him as he pictures swinging his door open to see his best-friend, the man he'd learned tasted like honeydew and cream, the man he'd cheated on his girlfriend with...

The kettle boils, snapping him from his spiral. Pouring out the water, he fills both cups and stirs, letting his eyes drift to the door of his apartment. Any minute now, the bell will ring, or knuckles will wrap against the door and – His phone vibrates.

From: Shitty Hair 'It's late, let me in so I don't have to wake up the whole building knocking.'

Bakugo gets to his feet too quickly, called to the door and the promise of Kirishima. The pull is too great for him to refuse, so he doesn't. Almost tugging the door off its hinges, he has to tense his shoulders to stop himself lunging at the man in front of him.

Kirishima's grin flattens as soon as he lays eyes on Bakugo. He reaches out, not giving the other man time to react as he wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him in, forcing him against his chest. 'You've been crying.' He mumbles against his shirt, thankful that his lips meet material and not skin. He'd come over intent on starting an argument, or at least shouting a little, but the sight of Bakugo puffy-eyed and lost, looking at him like he's the only thing that makes sense in his world, shatters those plans.

A strangled sob wriggles up Bakugo's throat as Kirishima fastens his arms around him and gently urges him back into the apartment. 'I -.' He swallows, feeling the pressure of the last few weeks wash over him, weakening his resolve. 'I made tea.'

Blowing air out of his nose, Kirishima nuzzles against the other man savouring his warmth before pulling back. 'Of course you did.' Unravelling Bakugo from his body, he lets his hand slide from neck, to shoulder, to elbow, until eventually, he takes him by the hand. A breath of relief rises in his throat when Bakugo's fingers entwine with his own and he's allowed to kick the door shut and lead him away, towards the kitchen and the cups of tea steadily cooling on the counter. He tries not to think about the callouses scratching his skin, shoves away the thought of those hands on his body, tangled in his hair.

'I -.'

'Sit.' Kirishima cuts him off before he can speak, shoving the cooling cup into his palms before pointing towards the back of the sofa. 'Now.' Bakugo doesn't even think about arguing. With the night drawing on, and the warmth of Kirishima's hand on his palm slowly fading he hasn't got the strength. He slinks off, rounding the front of the sofa before throwing himself back onto it with a soft thump.

A moment and a deep breath later, Kirishima joins him. He perches, despite being more than familiar with the apartment and shuffles awkwardly when Bakugo's knee touches his. 'You look like shit.'

Bakugo scowls.

'What?' Kirishima offers a small shrug, his eyes shining as he desperately tries to lighten the mood. 'You do.'

'You don't look much better...'

'I don't have eyebags.'

'The skin around my eyes is thin – it's the -.'

Kirishima steals the sentence from his mouth with a smile. 'the veins showing through, yeah. I know.'

Bakugo huffs. Licking his lips, he swallows down his hesitance before grabbing Kirishima by the back of his t-shirt and tugging him backwards. 'Stop sitting on the sofa like you've never been invited in before.'

'Fuck – watch out.' Kirishima slips back, almost splashing his tea down his front before he settles again. It's almost impossible to be unaware of Bakugo's arm still propped up along the back of the sofa, of his palm inches from the back of his neck almost touching his skin. The realisation makes his skin itch, makes him want to lean further back to feel Bakugo's warmth, but he doesn't. 'You want to talk about it?'

'About what?' Bakugo grunts.

'About today – outside the cafe, you leaving...'

Bakugo lifts his arm from the back of the sofa, letting it fall back to his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly that he can feel his teeth shake, but without the tension in his mouth he knows he'll fall apart again. There's no point in hiding, he supposes. 'I went to see her.'

Kirishima freezes up. His shoulders tense around his ears. 'Oh.'

Bakugo's voice warbles when he speaks. 'Sero saw us out -. He saw us outside of the cafe. That's why he left... He went to go tell her.'

'How... How did she react?' Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, Kirishima shifts further away. The tea is scolding in his palm, but the pain centres him, stops him from standing up and screaming. He can still taste Bakugo on his tongue, but with every sip of tea it slips away. Part of him is thankful for that.

Bakugo laughs. A short burst of a noise rocks through his throat, making Kirishima jump. 'She fucked him.'

'What?'

'I put my hand in...' He lifts his hand, recalling the sickening wetness on his fingers, but it's the blossoming purple that pulls his mind back from the brink of free fall. 'Fuck – I hit him. I actually fucking...'

'Hey, hey...' Kirishima abandons his cup on the coffee table in favour of scooting closer to Bakugo. He pauses for a second, hand hovering over the quaking mass of his shoulder before gently, setting his hand down. With a squeeze, he steadies him. 'You actually hit Sero.'

Nodding, Bakugo sets his own cup down and presents his hand. It's hard to ignore now. The skin on his knuckles is red and swollen, small grazes littering thick skin on top of the bone making them stand out stark against the tanned plain of his hand. 'Yeah. Pretty hard.'

Eye's raking over the injury, Kirishima swallows. 'You got a first aid kit?'

'I'm fine – it's -.'

'Where is it?'

'Under the sink.'

Pushing himself up from the sofa, he slips easily back into the kitchen and dips to rummage under the sink. He returns, first aid kit in hand and sinks to his knees in front of Bakugo. 'Hand.'

Bakugo's breath catches in his throat. The sight of Kirishima kneeling and nestled between is thighs makes something stir inside of him, something that threatens to make him forget the Hell inside his skull. 'Honestly, It's -.'

‘Hand.' It's an order the second time it graces Kirishima's lips. He pops open the kit, removing a small packet of anti-septic wipes before holding out his hand, waiting for Bakugo's.

Bakugo gives in. He presents his hand, letting it drop palm against palm into Kirishima's. It only stings a little when he brushes the wipes across the cuts, what hurts more is the look in Kirishima's eye as he works. It feel like being on a see-saw. There's a violence to the storm swirling in his chest that knocks him from heart-broken to smitten within a second and back again, but just as quick as he finds himself floating, the weight is taken straight from under him again. Just a few hours ago he'd been high on your voice, with your waist in his hands and anger on his tongue, but now... Now, his heart stutters when Kirishima's fingers grace his. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Kirishima doesn't look up. He doesn't think he can.

'Everything...' Bakugo swallows his hesitance. 'I'm fucking everything up.'

Kirishima licks his lips. 'You don't know what you want.' Dropping the wipe, he reaches into the kit and removes a cream. Uncapping it, he smears it across Bakugo's skin. 'You don't know who you want. You love her, but you kissed me...' Shuffling back to his feet, Kirishima forces a smile to his lips. 'But, until you figure out what that is... I don't think -'

Bakugo's heart hammers in his chest. With each step Kirishima takes away from him his throat tightens, panic rising in his throat as the idea being left alone in the emptiness of his apartment with this weight in his stomach infests him. It hurts to think, to try and sort through the mess of the last few weeks, but with Kirishima there, he thinks he might just be able to try. Stumbling to his feet, he crosses the room, reaching for Kirishima's wrist and catching him before he can stray too close to the door. 'Stay...' He croaks, pulling the other man towards him. Swallowing, he links their fingers. 'I - I don't know what the fuck is going on in my head, but I know I want you to stay.'

Sun shatters Bakugo's slumber. Thin streaks of light slip through the blinds, scattering bright slashes of pale yellow onto plain sheets helping him ease into wakefulness. With tired muscles, he moves to stretch out the aches of a restless sleep only to find that they’re not there. Instead, when he twists hoping to pop the stretch of his spine, his chest soar. Kirishima is asleep beside him. His red hair spills out onto the pillow, still slightly damp from the break-of-dawn shower he’d taken before finally clambering into bed. The plush of his bottom lip is rosy in the cool morning, bright and glowing with the faint redness of a nervous tick that has peeled the skin. Bakugo’s breath catches in his throat. There’s an unsuspecting beauty to him like this, something that begs him to reach out and press his mouth to the soft thrum of his pulse. He wonders if he’d taste different in the morning, with un-brushed teeth and the gentle musk of a night’s sleep in someone else’s bed… Of a night spent in his bed. He swallows. Would he smell like him?

Shit.

Rolling onto his back, careful to avoid waking his bed-companion, several things make themselves known to him at once.

One: He's is hard.

Two: It’s the kind of morning wood that demands to be taken care of. The kind that won’t be defeated with a cold-shower and a stern talking to.

Three: Sneaking off to the bathroom to take care of it is out of the question, because now, Kirishima is awake and he’s staring at it.

Red eyes blink slow, pupils expanding in real time as a steady blush creeps onto tanned cheeks. His lips fall ajar in invitation or prayer as his eyebrows arc, pulling at his skin until shock and his own arousal blend cleanly into his features. Bakugo groans. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forces his head back into his pillow and tries to steady the hammering in his chest.

‘Ah - Haha. G - Good morning, bro.’ Kirishima muddles his way through the sentence even with words sticking behind his teeth.

‘Don’t do that.’ Bakugo doesn’t open his eyes.

‘Don’t do W - what, bro?’

‘Call me bro while you’re staring at my dick.’

Kirishima squeaks. ‘I’m not. I - I haven’t… I didn’t mean too. I just -.’ Shuffling, the bed dips as he prepares the flee, but his knees are barely sustaining his weight before a hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him back down to the mattress. He lands with a soft chuff.

‘Stop acting like you’ve never seen a cock before. Got your own, haven’t ya?’ Bakugo doesn’t let go until he knows Kirishima will stay out of his own volition and even then, he unwraps his hand slowly, brushing his thumb across the back of his skin in an awkward crescent moon before releasing him.

‘Yeah, but…’ Leaning back on his hands, Kirishima flushes.

‘But what?’

‘But that’s… That’s your… your - y’know.’

Cracking open an eye, Bakugo peaks at the man perching on his bed. Despite being well over 6 feet tall, Kirishima has managed to make himself look small. His shoulders have hunched, his chest almost concave with the curve of his spine as he tries to fold in on himself. It’s cute, in a way, that Bakugo’s able to fluster him so completely that he physically shines, despite trying to hide it. ‘My cock? You’re blushing because it’s my cock?’

‘Stop.’ Kirishima shivers. ‘Stop saying it like that.’

‘What?’ Almost fully awake now, Bakugo feels a grin creep onto his face as he sits up on an elbow. ‘My cock… You don’t want me to say my cock, is that it? What’s wrong with me saying my cock?’

Kirishima groans. His face is hidden by his hands now, fingers splayed only enough to peak between them and glare at Bakugo. ‘Stop.’

'Don't think I will.'

'Please...'

'Nah, s'more fun to wind you up...' Bakugo licks his teeth. 'Never seen you blush like a school girl before, and to think all I had to do was talk about my dick -.'

'Bakugo!' Kirishima squirms again, reluctantly taking his hands from his face. 'If you don't shut up right now, I'll -.'

'What'cha gonna do, Kirishima?'

Something burns hot and steady in Kirishima's stomach. It makes sense now he's thinking about it, that Bakugo's stupid fucking mouth would probably be his undoing... 'I'll fuckin' make you that's what.'

With his heart beating in his ears, Bakugo feels the swell of excitement trickle into his veins. It feels dangerous, this, like flirting with his downfall and yet, he can't find it in him to stop. Instead, he licks at his teeth and grins, silently hoping for an outcome he's not sure he's even ready for. 'And how you going to do that?'

Kirishima bites his lip. The air in the room feels stale and electrified all at once as his muscles unlock allowing him to move and then, he's kissing him.

A gasp slips from Bakugo's throat when firm lips are pressed to his, but he sinks into it all too easily. A moan bubbles in his chest when a palm wraps the back of his neck and he scrambles, hands tangling into the front of Kirishima's t-shirt to steady himself. Nipping at Kirishima's bottom lip, he tugs, desperate to taste more.

The sudden pull off-balances Kirishima, sending him forward onto his hand and trapping Bakugo beneath him. His body curls in an attempt not to crush him, but its not enough to stop their foreheads banging together. 'Oh, shit. I'm sor -.'

Bakugo's hands untangle from Kirishima's shirt, only to skate up the plain of his neck and curl behind his head. 'Shut up. Just... Just kiss me...' It leaves his tongue on a whisper that tangles with Kirishima's breath as it fans across his cheeks.

'Yeah?'

'Fuckin' now, dammit.'

A laugh is on Kirishima's lips as he sinks down to kiss him again. He feeds it to Bakugo, licks into his mouth and steals a stuttered gasp before reeling back again. The hard bar of Bakugo's cock presses up into his stomach, twitching as he grinds down experimentally, giving it sanctuary in the crease of his thigh.

'Can...' Kirishima kisses him, misses his mouth by a millimetre and causes Bakugo to chase him. 'Can I...' The next kiss, he places on his jaw. Then his neck, the turn of his shoulder. 'Can I touch you?'

Bakugo can feel it. Kirishima's cock is hard and pulsing, pressing slightly to the left of his own as if he's trying to keep them apart. He doesn't like that. Desire burns in his veins making it hard to think as a trail of wet kisses find themselves pressed to his skin. He wants it, he thinks, to be touched – to be consumed by Kirishima in any way he's willing to have him. 'Please...'

Reeling back, Kirishima blinks. Now, that, that he hadn't expected. 'P – please?'

'Please.' Bakugo repeats allowing his voice to taper into a whine. He's sure if he doesn't get something, anything, to quell the burning inside of him soon he'll combust. Bucking, he tries his hardest to align their cocks, rubbing desperately into the air.

A moan is kicked from both of their lungs as even the slightest friction sends violent shivers through their spines.

'I'm gonna... Fuck, I'm gonna touch you, okay?' Licking his lips, Kirishima keeps his head above the duvet only long enough to receive a shaky nod from Bakugo before he's scampering beneath it and making his way down his body. His kisses make a path, walk the long road between Bakugo's pecs and down his stomach before lingering at the edge of his boxers.

'Ei – Eijirou...' Bakugo pants when he feels a finger slip under the elastic of his underwear, a hiss following soon after as he feels the material being pulled from him, allowing his cock to spring free. He's soaked, he's sure of it – can feel the soft stickiness of pre-cum on the lowest set of his abs where his cock had kissed them, but he's not given any time to brood on the sensation before Kirishima takes him in his mouth.

The corners of his mouth ache as he stretches his jaw and sticks out his tongue, cradling the head of Bakugo's cock as it slips past his lips. A salty-bitterness slips down his throat, encouraging a moan from his chest as he swallows down more and more.

'Shit – H-Holy fuck.' With his shoulders tensing, Bakugo's spine curves forcing him to press down into the mattress. He clenches the muscle in his thighs, trying desperately not to buck into the warm cavern wrapping around his cock and reaches out, blindly swatting at the air until his fingers can gain purchase on the soft, red locks of Kirishima's hair.

The feel of Bakugo scratching at his scalp makes Kirishima's cock jump and drool against the mattress. It's an awkward position, being curled with his hips lifted, but it's necessary. He's not sure how long he'd be able to last if he was left to freely grind against the mattress. Hollowing out his tongue, he comes off Bakugo's cock slowly, tracing the vein's as he goes, but as soon as lips pop free of his tip there's the faint pressure of a palm on the back of his head pushing him back down.

'M – More?' Cracking open an eye, Bakugo chances a look between his legs. Kirishima already looks ruined. His eyes have blown out, black pupils banishing red to the edges of his iris' as he looks up beneath his fringe. His lips, already swollen, are now coated with the thin sheen of spit and pre-cum that he licks quickly with his tongue. A growl vibrates through Bakugo's chest.

'Yeah?' Kirishima licks a long strip up Bakugo's cock earning himself a hiss.

Nodding, Bakugo tightens his fist pulling at Kirishima's scalp and grins when the other man moans. The discovery makes his chest swell, his brain whirring frantically as he wonders just what else he could learn about his best-friend – what he's been missing out on for all these years. He reaches out, gripping the other man's chin with his spare hand and gently encourages him to drop his jaw with a firm thumb.

Mouth dropping open on impulse, Kirishima finds all of his air caught in his throat when Bakugo slips his thumb onto his tongue and presses down. Closing his lips, he sucks, making sure to look Bakugo in the eye while he does.

'Shit, Red. Just fucking look at you...' He curls his fingers under his chin, feeling out the tension in his jaw. 'Makes me wanna ruin you.' Teeth dig into his thumb.

'You like that? Want me to ruin you, huh, baby?'

A unfettered mewl spills out around Bakugo's thumb as Kirishima's eyes flutter. The low timbre of Bakugo's voice makes something feral and desperate wriggle in his stomach as he whines and tries to keep his hips elevated.

'Come here.'

Kirishima doesn't need telling twice. Released from Bakugo's grip he crawls back up his body and brackets his hips with his thighs. He can feel it, the hard bar of Bakugo's cock pressing up against the crease of his ass. It sends shocks of excitement up through his legs and tightens his stomach, his own cock tenting his boxers and soaking the material a dark red. 'I -.'

'Kiss me, Red..' Wrapping a hand around the back of Kirishima's neck, Bakugo sinks into the warmth of the man over him. Their lips touch tentatively, but there's an unbridled heat behind their movements. One that builds, quickly until its careening out of control. Letting his hands slip from Kirishima's neck, Bakugo finds himself tracing the thick muscle of the other man's back. His shoulders are firm and yet, there's a discernible squish to the skin, a subtle give as ripples of tension spread across his body and disperse when Bakugo kneads at the flesh. Sinking lower, he follows the shivers of Kirishima's back until he reaches the divot of his spine. The elastic of his boxers is an insurmountable boundary, a crossing that there's no way back from and yet, when his hands journey beneath them, he does so with no questions lingering in his mind.

'Fuck... Katsuki – Katsuki, I -.' Kirishima pants into Bakugo's mouth, his stomach twisting as a handful of his ass is squeezed and pulled downwards forcing him to grind against hard pelvis and cock. 'I need... Need more -.'

'Yeah?'

Now, it's his turn to beg. A whine breaks free of his throat and slips straight past Bakugo's lips. 'Please.'

'I -.' Bakugo chokes. A sudden rush of anxiety mixes with the lust bubbling in his stomach and makes him swallow. His thumbs trace half-moods into the plush fat of Kirishima's ass. 'I've never... Don't – I don't know....' His cheeks are burning, he can feel it. From the tips of his ears to the point of his nose is aflame as soft embarrassment glows on his features.

'Can I teach you?' Kirishima's voice is gentle as he leans down to bump their noses. 'Let me show you how to make me feel good?'

Bakugo nods. 'Yeah. Fuck, yeah.'

Shuffling from his lap, Kirishima tosses aside the duvet. The edge of it catches the lamp on the bed-side table, sending the thing clattering to the floor along with a glass of water, Bakugo's phone and Kirishima's bracelets. 'I – shit.'

Wincing, he moves to scramble to his feet, but is stopped as Bakugo sits up and against bumps his chest.

'Leave it...' Curling forward, Bakugo wraps his arms around Kirishima's shoulders.

Kirishima shifts, the faint glow of Bakugo's phone drawing his eye. 'But -.'

'Leave it.' Bakugo scrapes his teeth across Kirishima's collarbone, a wet kiss following just after as he works his way slowly up his neck.

Dragging his eyes from Bakugo's phone, Kirishima's is afforded a singular protesting squeak before Bakugo takes matters into his own hands. A pair of large hands wrap his hips and twist, flinging him back down on the mattress.

'Katsuki...' He squeaks, a giggle wriggling up his throat as the phone is long forgotten in favour of pressing another kiss to Bakugo's lips.

A new heat bubbles in Bakugo's chest as he hovers above Kirishima, his arms bracketing his head. 'So...' He presses a kiss to his jaw, following the blooming trail of blush that spreads down the other man's chest. 'You gonna teach me how you like it, ha?'

It's a fight to resist the urge to cover his face, but he manages it. Nodding, Kirishima swallows the spit pooling in his mouth. 'Can I...' Embarrassment curls his toes.

'Yeah? Tell me what you want, baby... C'mon.'

'Want your mouth...'

A grin takes Bakugo's lip, exposing pointed incisors. Lifting a hand, he trails it down Kirishima's torso, thumbing at a brown, pebbled nipple. 'Here?' He cocks an eyebrow.

Kirishima gasps, but shakes his head.

'No?' Sinking lower, Bakugo's palm drags across Kirishima's stomach until his fingers touch thick, black pubic hair. A shiver rocks up through Kirishima's thighs when he finally takes hold of the base of his cock and squeezes – just so. 'Here?'

A mewl leaves Kirishima's lips. The tension of Bakugo's hand makes his stomach simmer and his pulse sink deeper as his cock twitches pathetically, oozing sticky pre-cum all over Bakugo's fingers. Swallowing hard, Kirishima shakes his head.

Something hungry glitters in Bakugo's eyes as he watches a blush bloom on Kirishima's cheeks. The man squirms beneath him, wriggling somehow closer and further away as Bakugo releases his grip on his cock. Cupping his balls, he rolls them against his palm until a whine breaks through the air and then, he's pressing the pad of an index finger to Kirishima's rim. He grins. 'Here?'

Kirishima nods, a gasp on his lips.

Settling down, shoulders rippling as he makes himself a home between Kirishima's thighs Bakugo doesn't even attempt to resist the urge to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock. He revels in the shudder it earns him, in the way he can feel the shake in the thigh muscle under his hands. There's a nervousness squirming in his chest, but it's outmatched by the desire that has burned like fire in his blood for the past few weeks. He needs to touch, to taste...

The first lick makes Kirishima screw his eyes shut. It's teasing, a barely there press of wet flesh on his hole that seems more experimental than anything else, but as soon as Bakugo finds his rhythm he's a goner. Cracking open an eye, he makes the mistake of glancing between his legs. Bakugo's eyes shine as they bore into his. The lower half of his face is shielded, but he doesn't need to see his mouth to know that he's smirking. He can feel it as he laves sin against him making his cock dribble more pre-cum onto his stomach. 'Katsuki... I -.'

'Mmm?' Humming against him, Bakugo revels in Kirishima's taste. It isn't the first time he's eaten ass, but there's something about how Kirishima squirms, about the breathy moans that drift form his mouth unconsciously that has him insatiable.

'You need to – need to prep me...'

'Yeah? You don't want me to make you cum like this?' Bakugo prods his hole with his tongue, unfurling the muscle inside of him.

Moaning, Kirishima has to chew at his lip to stop from crying out. 'No, no... Want. Want you to fuck me, Katsuki. Want -.'

'Say again, baby?'

Curling himself, Kirishima looks Bakugo dead in the eye when he begs. 'Fuck me. Please... I need you – need -.'

Sitting up, Bakugo licks spit from his lips before pressing a thick finger to Kirishima's entrance.

'Lube... Need -.'

'Shit. Okay.' Rocked momentarily from his haze, Bakugo scrambles from the bed to dig around in the bed-side table. He tosses aside a pair of leather cuffs and a small bundle of rope, clatters through a collection of vibrators that make

Kirishima squeak and then, he's scrambling back onto the bed already squeezing a healthy helping of lube onto his fingers. 'You gotta tell me if I'm too rough, yeah?'

Back bowing, Kirishima all, but forces Bakugo to press into him. The first stretch has the air jamming in his lungs and a stuttering moan leaping from his throat.

'Too much?' Bakugo's eyebrows knit together. One of his hands cups Kirishima's ass, kneading the soft flesh there to stop the shake in his fingers.

Kirishima shakes his head, rolling his hips. 'More.'

Bakugo is only too keen to oblige. Sliding in a second finger, he takes his time stretching Kirishima until he's writhing, his hands reaching out and pulling at Bakugo as he pleads for more, still.

'Please, please, please...'

'Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby... Who would of thought, ha?'

Clenching his jaw tight, Kirishima growls weakly. 'I'll sound so much better when you get your cock in me, fuck.'

A laugh bounces around Bakugo's chest, filling him with a burnt joy as he finally relents. Pulling back, he slides his hands down Kirishima's thighs before giving himself a single pass with his fist. His cock is hot and heavy in his palm, swollen from neglect and dripping white onto the sheets below. 'Ready?'

Kirishima's chest flutters. He's been ready for this for as long as he's known Bakugo, but the gravity of the moment isn't lost. Licking his lips, he nods tangling his hands in the bedsheets.

Shuffling close, Bakugo presses his tip to Kirishima's rim. He gives the other man one final look over, feeling lust and something more collide in his stomach and then, he presses in. 'Fuck... T – tight. You're so fuckin' tight.' Immediately, Bakugo's eyes threaten to roll back in his skull. Every single nerve in his body comes alive, sings as he feels Kirishima clamping down around him.

'Kat – Katsuki, Ah -.' Kirishima flushes red. His body accommodates Bakugo's like it belongs there, giving and taking in all of the right places as they come together: finally. It makes him whimper, makes his eyes mist and his stomach feel tight, but before he can drop from the precipice into panic, Bakugo is there, cooing at him and wiping barely shed tears from his cheeks.

'Does it hurt?' Curling over him, Bakugo takes Kirishima's cheeks in hand.

Kirishima hiccups. 'Feels good.'

'You promise?'

'Promise.'

The first thrust almost takes Kirishima's breath away. Bakugo's cock grinds directly over his prostate and with Bakugo's eyes looking directly into his, he's sure he'll come undone in mere moments. It's intense, bringing his skin to prickle as Bakugo's forehead comes to rest against his forcing him to see the pleasure as it rolls easily across his features. 'Katsuki... Katsuki, kiss me.'

Bakugo doesn't need asking twice. He connects their lips softy, letting Kirishima lead as he rolls his hips slowly against him. He can feel each twitch of Kirishima's cock between their stomachs, the tension wrapping his cock making it hard to focus as a tongue slips between his lips and a moan is fed to his mouth. There's something building in his stomach, something warm and fierce and uncontrollable, but he's not sure if it's the approach of his impending orgasm or something else.

'Katsuki...'

He can barely hear it. Kirishima's voice reaches and reaches, but it never quite catches him.

'Katsuki...'

Swallowing hard, he tries to block out the buzzing – ignoring everything that isn't here, that isn't Kirishima.

'Kat – Bakugo.'

Snapping open his eyes, Bakugo really wishes it was Kirishima's face, screwed up and worried that had caught his attention first, but it's not. Instead, his peripheral finds his phone. It's turned up on the floor and glowing soft. Maybe it would have been different if he wasn't able to make out your name.

'Bakugo. Are – are you okay?' Kirishima can feel it, the unmistakable softening inside of him before Bakugo pulls out and sits back on his haunches.

Bakugo huffs. 'Fuck.' There's tears in his eyes as his chest threatens to shatter. It's like barbed wire has been wrapped around his torso, squeezing, cutting deep with each breath. How had he been able to forget? It makes him feel sick. Swiping a hand through his hair, he forces himself to look at Kirishima. The pain only gets worse then. 'I – Fuck. I can't. I'm sorry – I... Fucking Hell, I'm so fucking sorry, Eiji.'

Kirishima scrambles to him. His hands hover in the air, unsure if touching him now would be a help or a hindrance... 'No... No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -

'S'not your fault.'

'But I -.'

Bakugo shakes his head. 'It's not just your fault.'

'Is...' Kirishima hands shake in his lap. His cock has started to flag, his knees pressing together as he mourns the loss of Bakugo's cock inside of him. The fall from grace is never an easy one, but he should have at least expected this. It was all too soon, too much. He'd know that and yet, the allure of Bakugo's touch had him drunk, throwing away his intuition in favour of stealing the kisses he'd yearned for for years. There's a hole in his stomach, one that he's more than familiar with as he watches Bakugo fall apart centimetres from him. He's powerless, lost to the guilt that infests his chest. All he wants to do is touch, to reach out and make him feel better, to press his fingers into the spaces between his ribs and hold him, but he's not sure he's allowed to do that. He's not sure he'll ever be allowed to do that again. The thought makes him sick.

For a moment, Bakugo just stares. His skin prickles, stomach bubbling as he tries to stem the bleed in his chest that makes him want to disappear The phone on the floor stopped glowing almost a minute ago, but he still can't find it in him to tear his eyes from it. Instead, he's frozen, breath hitched as he debates clambering off the bed to reach for it. 'Ei – I -.'

'Can I hug you?'

Kirishima's voice rocks him steady from free fall. He doesn't know why he nods, why he let's Kirishima gently pull him back to the mattress and lay his head on his chest. Their breathing syncs, each struggling lift of Bakugo's lungs causing Kirishima to haul air in through his nose. There's no tangling of limbs this time, no entwining fingers or legs to drag them closer to each other; just the simple embrace of two people, lost, seeking comfort in the only way they can.

Licking his teeth, Bakugo lets his head sink into the pillow. His finger itch, desperate to slink off the bed and click on the missed call he knows is waiting for him, but the fear of your voice, of the words that could shatter him again keep him rooted.

'Can I ask you a question?'

Kirishima's voice is quiet, dying in his throat. Bakugo hates that he's the reason for it. He grunts. 'Sure.'

'...What do you do if you know something is wrong, but you want to do it anyway?' From where his ear is pressed to Bakugo's skin, Kirishima can hear the stutter of his heart.

'I don't think I'm the best person to be asking that.'

'Humour me.'

Bakugo sighs, feeling his words tug at his heart. '… According to my current track record, you do it anyway.'

Kirishima swallows. 'Okay.' Summoning the little strength remaining in his heart, he lifts himself onto an elbow. Craning over Bakugo, he lets his eyes flit from crimson iris' to plush lips before finally, finally leaning down. It's the softest kiss they've shared yet, a barely-there touch of lips as Kirishima lets himself sink, imprinting the memory so deeply into his grey matter that he hopes it'll be the last thing he ever forgets. Pulling back, he doesn't even wait for Bakugo's eyes to flicker back open before moving away. He whispers: 'We'll be okay, won't we?'

Bakugo chokes. He wants to say 'yes', to smooth his hands through Kirishima's hair and tell him it'll all be alright, but they've crossed so many lines in the past few weeks that it's hard to know where they stand. Licking his lips, Bakugo brushes his knuckles over Kirishima's cheek. The thought of losing his best-friend makes him run cold. 'We'll figure it out.' He lands on. 'We always do, ha?'

'Yeah...' Shuffling back to his knees, Kirishima resists the urge to rest his hand on the weight in his stomach. 'I just – I can't... I can't lose you and I've, I've fucked it all up because – because...'

'You're not.' Bakugo sits up to meet him, gingerly twisting their fingers. 'Listen, we're all just – it's fucked, but... We all just need time.'

'Time.' Kirishima parrots.

'Time to sort my head out, to – to -.' Time to choose, he thinks. The thought almost makes him sick.

Nodding, Kirishima wipes at his cheeks and chuffs out a laugh. 'At least now I know why all those girls in college where always dying to get into your pants.'

Bakugo squeezes his hand and shrugs as relief floods his chest. 'What can I say? I know what I'm working with.'

'Eh, you could be better with your mouth.'

A flush breaks out on Bakugo's chest. 'Same mouth you almost came from, ya'mean?'

Biting his lip, Kirishima giggles. 'Maybe I was just stroking your ego?'

'That's it.' Bakugo steams. 'That's the last time I'm ever going down on you...'

'What makes you think I'd let you do it again?'

Shaking his head, Bakugo growls before flicking Kirishima square in the forehead. 'You're fuckin' lucky that I -.' The words jam in his throat.

'Yeah...' Kirishima smiles. He can taste the end of Bakugo's sentence on his tongue. Slipping his hand from under Bakugo's, he collects his limbs and shuffles towards the edge of the bed. 'I - I think it's time for me to go...'

There's no arguing. Bakugo just nods and pushes himself up from the mattress. They dress in the aching silence of the room while still stealing glances behind the others back. The phone in his pocket feels like a dead weight, his hands shaking as he fiddles with the drawstring of his joggers. He wants to call you, wants to hear your voice come down the line and crackle in his ears, but then Kirishima turns around and flashes him that weak, broken smile and it's as if the resolve in his heart crumbles in his chest again.

Kirishima doesn't miss the way Bakugo toys with the phone in his pocket.

'I'll see you out.' Indecision coils low in Bakugo's gut and makes him itch, even as he lays a hand on the small of Kirishima's back to guide him from the bedroom. The warmth of the other man's skin grants him solace, provides something a little solid as he feels his world slip between his fingers once more.

Still, it isn't until he's standing at his door with Kirishima about to cross the threshold that he feels his chest grow tight again. He swallows, turns the phone over in his pocket, lets his hand slip from Kirishima's side. 'I – I think I'm going to try again.'

For a second Kirishima's heart flickers to life, but the flame burns out just as quickly.

'I owe her that much, Ei. I – I fucking love her and... If, if she wants to, I -.'

Kirishima nods even though he feels like screaming.

'I – fuck -.' Bakugo scrubs tears from his eyes. 'I'm not saying that I don't – I... Listen,' Stepping forward he takes Kirishima's cheeks in hand and forces him to look. 'You. You started something... and – If, fucking Hell, if things where different there'd be no way in Hell I'd be letting you go, but, but I -.'

Kirishima covers Bakugo's hands with his own. They're both crying, crimson eyes filled to the brim with soaking embers that reflect such a myriad of emotions that it's hard to pin-point the strongest. 'You love her. I know.'

'I'm so fucking sorry.'

'I know.'

'I really fucking wish things where different.'

'I know.' Kirishima tilts until his forehead touches Bakugo's. His breath is warm on his cheeks, his lips warmer as he gives in, one final time. The kiss is long, longer that it should be, but he savours every moment. Salt hits his lips, his tongue, a mixture of the sadness drying on both of their cheeks. He doesn't know where he finds the strength, but it's him that steps away first.

Retreating back to the door, Bakugo clings to it as if he might fall. The plea 'stay' threatens to dance off his tongue, making his jaw drop as he licks his lips, tasting the maybe-one-day-love of the man in his doorway. He wants to kiss him again, to remember what it's like, so he doesn't forget, but -.

Kirishima shakes his head. 'I'll see you next week – or something, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I should -.' Kirishima hooks a thumb over his shoulder. 'Y'know.'

'Y - Yeah.'

It takes everything inside of Kirishima to turn around and walk away, to not rush back and steal one more kiss, but he does it. He does it for both of their sakes.

Sero doesn't bite back the smile that rises to his lips when he opens his door to see you. The weight that had settled in his stomach lifts, his heart beating against his ribs until his chest feels light again. He'd resigned himself to purgatory, content to bask in the unknown with only the memory of your kiss to see him through. The last thing he'd expected was you on his doorstep, not that he's complaining of course – he's never been so delighted to be surprised before. Leaning against the door frame, one arm supporting his weight above his head, he kicks out his left leg and crosses it over his right at the ankle. 'Hi.'

Honestly, you're not quite sure what you're doing here. There's been an underlying restlessness growing inside of you all morning, one that has resisted all of your attempts to calm it. Which was probably why, against your better judgement, you'd sought out the only thing that had granted you any solace over the past few weeks. You chew at the inside of your cheek. There's a shimmering purpleness along the line of his jaw that makes your stomach turn, but if the sore skin is giving him any trouble, he doesn't show it. It makes you want to kiss it better. 'Can I come in?'

'Yeah.' Sero steps aside. 'Yeah. Of course.' There's an itch under his skin as he closes the door and jerks his head down the hallway, easily slipping in front of you to lead the way.

Traipsing after him, you pause by the open door of his bedroom for just long enough to glance inside. It's surprisingly tidy, with a large open window and dark brown bedsheets that are turned down at the corner, exposing a patterned under-sheet. A faint sorrow slips down your throat as you wonder if he sleeps on firm or soft, if he wakes to splitting sun or a blind-drawn haze, but whatever dejection that had been crawling through your lungs is quickly drown by shock as your eyes fall to his bed-side table. Atop pale wicker, beside a tall reading lamp is small clump of black cotton. You don't need a closer look to recognise the article, but your breath stops short as the implication of a near-by bottle of lube dawns on you. A heat swallows you whole, threatens your already trembling knees, until...

'You want tea?' Sero pokes his head out from a room further along the hall and rocks up his eyebrows.

A squeak escapes you as your head snaps in his direction. 'Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.'

If Sero notices your fluster, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he flashes a crooked grin and disappears back around the door.

You steal one last glance at his bedside table, before the molten lava flowing in your stomach forces you to move. It blends awkwardly with the anxiety flowing in your veins, making your mouth dry and your fingers tremble.

Sero's waiting for you in the kitchenette when you slip into the living room. He's leaning on the breakfast bar that separates the room clean in two, a spoon caught between finger and thumb as he lazily stirs a cup of tea. His eyes flicker up, then back down again. 'Not that I'm not stupid happy to see you, but... You said you where gonna call.'

'I -.' Your tongue swells in your mouth as you think of the seven unanswered phone calls sitting in your call log. You had called, after all, you just hadn't called him. Guilt bubbles inside of you and rubs against the rawness of your aching heart. 'I'm sorry.'

Plucking the cups from the breakfast bar, Sero slips around it's edge and places them onto the wooden coffee table to free up his hands before placing them on your cheeks. 'No, no, no... None of that, yeah?' His thumbs dig into the corners of your eyes and smooth firm semi-circles into the skin underneath. 'You've got nothin' to be sorry for, baby doll. Nothin' at all, yeah?'

You nod even though you don't believe it. Still, you let him lead you, let him take your hand and sit you down on the edge of the sofa where he places a warm cup into your palms. 'I -.'

'Drink. Then talk.'

Doing as your told, you sip at your tea and let the heat loosen your voice. 'Katsuki, he –'

Swallowing down, Sero schools his features into stoicism, despite the butterflies in his stomach. He balks on his words. 'You guys back together?'

You shake your head. 'I said – said I'd call him to talk things through and... And , fuck.'

'Oh.' Sero does a bad job of masking the drop of his features, even as he attempts to hide it behind his own cup. He licks his lips, savouring the florals in the Earl Grey soothing his throat. 'And?'

'He didn't... He's not answering...' You wring your hands in your lap. 'And the more I call, the more I feel like I shouldn't be, because if he's not answering then -.'

'Okay, let's take a deep breath, yeah?' Slipping the cup from your shaking hands, he pops it back on the table before twisting his fingers with yours. He locks eyes with you, smiling soft, then slowly hauls in a steady breath through his nose.

You follow. The first breath feels like acid. Your lungs feel too full, your chest swollen and fit to burst, but just before you're sure you're about to pop Sero is pursing his lips and letting his air go.

It takes a handful of breaths, each one carefully following Sero's lead before you feel steady enough to squeeze him.

'Feel better?'

You nod, letting your palms slip from his. It makes something swim inside of you, the ease at which Sero Hanta operates. It's as if he always knows, always has a plan and a warm smile, a hand to help you keep steady. Just like he had last night. You shiver. 'Thanks.'

'It's nothing.' He winks, collecting his own cup from the table after offering you yours. 'But, for what it's worth... He's probably not ignoring you.'

'Huh?' Swallowing a sip of tea, you have to sift through the warmth settling in your chest until you find the source of your panic. You drop your eyes from Sero's. 'Yeah.'

'Fuckers probably just on a run – or something.' He shrugs. There's a grain of truth to what he's saying, but there's something ugly and selfish in his stomach that prays for something different, something worse. He stamps it down, re-focusing on you.

You chuff. You don't think about what Bakugo could be doing, something tells you that ignorance is bliss and you listen before shaking your head, dislodging the thought in favour of thinking about the things you know, what you can see and feel right now. 'Yeah, I just... It's just a fucking mess.'

Chewing his cheek, Sero leans back against the sofa. He hums, the sound vibrating the back of his throat. 'You can say that again.'

You pinch him.

'Oi.' Flinching, he lets a grin split his lip as he arcs his eyebrows. ''m just telling you the truth.'

'I wish you wouldn't.'

'Well...' Sero shifts until his shoulder bumps against yours. 'You're always welcome to hide out here.' He gestures the room with an arm. 'It's liminal... Barley.'

If only all of this was as simple as a game of stuck-in-the-mud. 'Thanks.' Huffing out a laugh, you let yourself sink into the plush of his sofa and take your time admiring his apartment.

Sero's apartment looks exactly how you'd expect it to. There's a large yuka plant in a far corner, basking in the glow from the open balcony window. Beside it, swings a hammock and just within reach is a tall bookshelf, adored with tattered books, a twin creeping fig and small various whittled animal figurines. It's cosy. Nothing like your apartment, or Bakugo's for that matter.

'So...' Sero shifts on the sofa, bumping his hip against yours.

'So...' You parrot.

'I, am just now realising that you've never been here before...' He grins, his mouth crooked as he itches at his undercut. There's a faint blush on his cheeks. He can feel it. It creeps like ivy from his chest and up his neck, curling around the backs of his ears to slither over his cheek bones and ripen the tip of his nose.

His fluster makes your bite at your lip. There's something addictive about seeing him forced to wear his emotions on his sleeve and knowing that you're the reason for it brings out a sweetness on your tongue. It's almost pathetic how easy t is to fall back into him. 'You gonna offer to give me a tour?'

'I -.' Air jams in his throat as his blush deepens. He licks his lips and grins again, his eyes shining as he brings his gaze up to meet yours. 'I would, but – uh – my bedrooms a mess and -.'

'And you've been using my underwear to jack off since last night?' Blinking innocently over the rim of your cup, you swallow down the pleased smile that rises to your lips when he chokes.

'You saw that, huh?'

'Hard to miss...' Leaning a little heavier into his touch, you don't bother to ruminate on the reason's you find yourself falling back into him. It's easy, a soft slide back into his orbit that keeps the outside world at bay. No-one could blame you for taking it, the reprieve he offers out to you oh-so easily.

Sero clears his throat. For a moment he freezes, caught somewhere between wrong and right as he leans in closer worried that he's overstepping on already trodden ground. His heart thunders in his chest. It feels like he's been caught, like you're looking straight through him as you tilt your head and pout. 'Does that... Is that okay?'

You take another sip of tea to stop yourself from seeming too keen. The liquid is almost scolding, centring you as you try and control the bubbling inside of your stomach. His lips are shining slightly from where he's licked them and you lean forward, unconsciously pulled towards him as you remember what he had tasted like. The image of him, naked and curled over himself, hand wrapped tight around his cock as he breathed you in – your underwear a mask as he came, hot, white and sticky over his hand and stomach makes your cunt pulse. You wonder how many times he'd done it, what he'd been picturing while he did, if the smell of you alone had been enough to make him loose his composure. Swallowing hard, you slip your tea back onto the table and nod, breathless.

'Yeah... Yeah, it's okay.'

He sets his tea on the floor to be able to take your chin in hand. Calloused fingers curl under your jaw, bringing your eyes to his as he leans so close your breath fans his face. 'Yeah? S'okay I used your pretty lace to get off?'

'Yeah.' It's vicious the way you're lured back in, your pulse sinking lower and lower as you let yourself slip closer until knees are bumping knees. Here, right now, it's all to easy to forget about Bakugo, about the infidelity and the missed phone calls; about the possibility of his decision meaning the end of you.

Sero brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. 'Do you like it? Knowing what I did...'

Nodding, you tighten your jaw to stop a moan from breaking from your lips, but before the muscle can even tense, Sero's there. His fingers dig into the bone, stopping you from sealing the noise away. Instead, you moan, shuffling on the sofa as you struggle to clamp your thighs together.

It's electric. This, whatever it is. He can feel you canting forward, see the way you wriggle, pressing down on the couch cushion for a little relief. Letting his eyes sink to your lips, he allows himself a lingering look at your body before dragging his gaze back. He makes sure you're hanging off his every word when he finally speaks again, his voice low, barely audible as if he's feeding you a filthy secret. 'You wanna know how many times I came?.. How long I spent fisting myself stupid with those pretty little things pressed to my face? How quick I came when I wrapped them around my cock -.'

'Hanta....' You whine as his words settle in your ears. Twisting, you try and stem the prickling of your skin, but it's pointless.

Using his free hand, he brushes his knuckles over your cheeks mumbling compliments under his breath as he makes no attempt of hiding the swell that presses to the thin cotton of his sweat-pants. 'Yeah, baby?'

It's the smile that does it. The one that's crooked in all the right places and causes the edges of his eyes to crinkle as he let's his emotions play out clearly on his face. Lust swims in his eyes, shimmering bright in the inkiness of his iris. 'C'mon...' He coos. 'Tell me what you want and I'll give you it –.' Swallowing, he lets his nose bump against yours. 'I'd give you everything.'

Lifting your head slightly, you brush your nose against his. 'Hanta – I ...'

'Good girl... I can make you feel good, okay... Make you -.'

A vice wraps itself around your lungs. 'I -.' It's as if his voice plays to you on stereo, the soft playfulness of Sero's tones mixing horribly with the rough of Bakugo's. Deja vu repeats on you as you scramble backwards, pressing yourself to the arm of the sofa. You bite at your lip, hoping the pain will provide a distraction from the melody of memories that plays out in your mind, but it doesn't.

'Baby...'

Sero's voice reaches out to you through the fog. His hands come next, they tap gentle against your shoulders, but as soon as he's able to press his palms to your biceps, you flinch. It's too much. The sudden rush of reality leaves you spinning and sensitive as the carefully crafted bubble of the apartment loses it's effect. Your phone feels heavy now, nestled in the bottom of your pocket, but even now you can't find it in you to check it. 'I'm -.'

'No, no – it's okay. I – fuck – I'm sorry.' Lifting his palms in surrender, he shuffles backwards on the sofa to create more distance. His throat burns, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggles to get a handle on the situation. He'd thought he'd been reading the room, but the thought that he had been pushing his intentions sours his mouth. 'I – I came on a bit strong there, I – fuck, I wasn't thinking.' He tries to chuckle, but the sound gets caught in his throat.

'It's not... It's not that, I -.' Your tongue feels heavy. So swept up in Sero's aura, in the space that had been slowly growing in your heart since he had left that night, you'd almost forgotten the reason you'd found yourself back in his presence at all. Knotting your fingers on your lap, you force yourself to pull back. '… I called him.'

Sero opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again just as quick. His fingers itch, his heart still beating, hammering against his chest in it's anxiety to be pressed back to yours. Part of him wants to reach out, to reel you back in slowly until both of you are left to bask in the limbo of each other, but he knows better. He nods, swallowing bile and disappointment. 'Yeah... Yeah.'

The air goes stale between you. A blanket of awkwardness covers the rooms, causing you both to shuffle to try to dispel the itch in your bones as you wait in the new silence. Licking your lips, you clear your throat, preparing to say something, anything, as you feel Sero slip through your fingers in real time. You can't lose him, can't let this feeling spread like mould, devouring everything that you where, that you could have been. 'So -.'

Shaking himself off, Sero stands before you can speak. He needs distance, or he might just do something stupid. Something zips down his spine as he watches panic rise in your eyes, but he pushes on, crossing the room to slump in his hammock and swing his legs over the side to face you. There's a heaviness in his voice when he speaks. 'I've fucked it, haven't I?'

You bite your lip, almost tearing the skin. 'I -.'

'Fuck.' Letting his head roll back on his shoulders, Sero sighs. 'I didn't mean to.' He pauses, flicks his tongue across his lip. 'Well – I did. I don't, fuck, I don't regret it, okay? But, I – I just wish it didn't -.'

Watching him unravel makes your stomach fizz. The acid licks at your insides, making it impossible to stay perched on the edge of the sofa. 'Hanta...'

The use of his given name cuts his rambling short. He pauses, eyes still trained on the ceiling as if revealing the expression you're wearing might be the end of him. Biting on his tongue, he prepares to look, steadies his beating heart for the worst, but before he can sit up and catch sight of you his hammock dips.

'Hanta.' Sinking into the hammock is strange. It's shape caves around you and moulds, sliding you effortlessly next to him. Your shoulder presses to him, joining you by arm, hip and thigh as you both slump into the middle of the material. This time, it's you who rids the room of it's cold air. 'Look at me... Please.'

He does, but only because your hand touches at his cheek, brushing at his skin. 'I don't regret it either...' It leaves your tongue on a whisper, but the instant up-tick of Sero's mouth steadies your stomach.

You're so close that not kissing you is a challenge, but he resists, if only just. Relaxing into the palm cupping his cheek, he tilts his head towards the warmth.

'Good.'

'Can...' His hip is bony where it pushes against yours forcing you to shift somehow closer. Your eyes search his only to get lost. 'Can we pretend that it's just us – nothing else... Just – just for a little bit?'

Licking his lip, Sero nods. 'Liminal... Remember.' Falling back to his stride, he twists his shoulders and reaches out, giving you time to move away before he trails his fingers up your arm.

His touch is warm and singes your skin. It makes you want to stay forever. 'What -.' He swallows. 'What does that mean – exactly?'

There's air in the room, you're sure of it, but your lungs burn like you haven't taken a breath for hours. 'I don't – I don't understand...'

'If it's just us... Does... Does that mean I can kiss you?'

Part of you expects something inside of you to tense, to push back despite the simmering that is ever present under your skin whenever he's close. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider saying no, but that isn't what leaves your lips. 'Yeah -.'

He doesn't need telling twice. Letting his eyes linger on the plush bump of your lips, he closes the distance between you easily. The kiss is soft, a gentle meeting of your mouths that has your nails digging into the back of his scalp to try and pull him closer. He smirks against your lips.

The second you give in to each other, static erupts across your skin. 'Is... Is this okay?' Your breathless, aching as you manage to pull back for only a second.

'You're sure this is -.'

'Kiss me.' It's a plea. He can hear it in his voice, but he makes no attempt to hide it. He's hungry. Too hungry. After all this time, who would have thought he'd been starving.

'But – I...' You kiss him once, briefly, to satiate him. 'I don't want to mess you around -.'

Cutting you off before you can finish you sentence, he licks into your mouth trying to mask the bitterness that spreads on his tongue. He needs this. If nothing else, this, right now will have to do. 'If you're going to go back to him... Just – just give me this, yeah?'

A whine almost leaves your throat when he feeds you his desperation. There's a finality in the roughness of his question, a subtle give to the vowels that makes him impossible to deny. Nodding, you pull back only to press a hand to his chest and urge him down to the concave of the hammock and then, you're kissing him again. Your bodies slot together as you come down over him, blanketing his body with yours.

Spreading his legs a little, he slips a thigh between yours and let's his hands wonder. One takes up residence in the valley of your spine, pressing down and keeping your chest flush to his. The other roams. His knuckles graze your cheek bone, the bend of your shoulder and the joint of your elbow. 'Fuck...' Panting against your lips, he smooths a thumb under your jaw before angling your head and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

There's a fuzz in your head, a warmth that spreads, embracing your entire body until it leaves you tingling and squirming against him. Your hips grind down, rubbing stuttering rolls into his flesh. A lazy gasp trickles from your lips, only to be swallowed up by Sero who offers you a chuckle in response.

'Yeah?' He grins.

You mewl, whining when the hand on the small of your back pushes down and urges a new heaviness into your movements. Rolling your hips against his again you're met with the growing stiffness of his cock. It presses to your cunt, making you gasp and grind down harder, anxious to feel more of him. 'W – Want...' Wriggling, you try and slip you hand between your bodies, but before you can wrap a cautious hand around his cock, he's stopping you.

'Nah-ah-a.' He smiles into the next kiss. 'Like this...' Letting his grip loosen on your wrist, he lets his hand slide over your palm until he can entwine your fingers. Then, he's bucking up as best as he can with the hammock under him and forcing you to feel the thick bar of his cock. Having you over him like this is bad for his health, he's sure of it. His head spins, like he has vertigo and his heart flutters, flapping helplessly against his ribs. 'Just like this.'

Squeezing his hand, you nod before falling back into him. The pace you set is slow, hindered somewhat by the dip of the hammock as you catch hold of Sero's bottom lip and bite down gently. His hair has fallen from it's messy bun, leaving black strands to wisp across his forehead and curl at his cheeks. His lips are rosy, spit slick and red from your kiss and his eyes are wide, with something akin to bare adoration basking in them as he stares back. Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips migrate. You grace his cheek and the skin under his ear, trailing softly lower and lower until you reach the bold bruise at his jaw. 'Does it hurt?'

A dull hiss slips his teeth when you press your lips to the bruise. It makes the bone tingle where Bakugo's knuckles had been pushed against it, but the throb soon transforms into a bloom of pleasure as you kiss and lick at his neck. 'Nah.'

'I'm sorry.' You whisper it into his skin while stroking a thumb across the bruise and reeling back just enough to catch his eye.

He shakes his head, a crooked grin spreading his features as he winks. 'Worth it.'

You press your tongue to a back molar to stifle a giggle and press your face into his chest when he makes his eyebrows dance up and down on his forehead.

'You getting shy 'cos of little old me?' Nipping at your ear, he places a barely there peck against the crown of your head.

Whining, you choke on a chuckle as you feel his hand knead and pinch at your side. The fingers he has slipped between yours dance, tapping out a rough beat on the roof of your hand as he chuckles soft into your hair. The warmth in your stomach spreads, infesting your chest and making your heart feel itchy.

Reaching up, you slip a hand under his shirt and skim across the lean muscle of his stomach and chest before pinching at a nipple.

'Oi, you.' Sero flinches.

'Stop teasing me then.'

He laughs, low and steady, forcing you to hear it from where your head is still pressed to his chest. 'Want me to do something else instead?' Punctuating his sentence with a subtle roll of his hips, he groans when he feels your reciprocate immediately. Your cunt pulses against the join on his thigh and he almost bites clean through his lip when he feels the heat radiate through his sweats.

'H – Hanta.' You settle into a lazy grind after that. His nose touches your cheek, calling you back to him and then, you're sharing each others air only leaving room for the faint gasps and moans that are fed to the other on wet tongues. The heat in your stomach is almost blinding, causing your thighs to shake as you feel his cock catch against your clit again and again and again.

'C'mon baby...' Sero coo's. He's breathless, chest heaving as he breaks a kiss only for long enough to mutter soft encouragements into your ears. 'Cum for me. Know – know you want to... Use me to get off, yeah?'

The moment stretches out in front of you until there is nothing, but you and Sero and the pleasure that rises between you. It's blissful, achingly so as you pull at each other, desperate for more, hungry for everything, anything, the other is willing to give. The noise of your kisses fill the air and sink into your ears, spurring you on as you suck on Sero's tongue and receive a particularly heavy grind in response. It's your end. With a gasp, you curl over him, body quaking as you cum, hard, against him.

'Good girl... Fuck, there she is. That's my girl.' Sero groans low, bucking up against you to try and prolong your high as your eyes roll slow into the back of your skull. It makes him want to bite down on his tongue, or your lip, but he satiates himself by littering kisses against your exposed throat.

'I -.' You're dizzy, wrapped in the tingle of the moment as you come down and collapse onto Sero's chest. He pets down your back, still cooing, the rolls of his hips slower now and more subdued. 'Want – want you to cum too... Want...'

'Wanna make me cum in my pants like a horny teenager, huh?' There's a chuckle in his voice, but it barely masks the raw need that creeps through when your hips press down. He meets your pace again, urging you slowly into overstimulation as your puffy clit is forced to endure the new pressure of his cock. 'Fuck...'

With his head rocking back on his shoulders, you seize the moment to lick up his throat.

'Look – fuck – look what you do to me...' He huffs, the coil in his groin becoming unbearable. 'Gonna – fuck – gonna -.' The rest of his sentence is lost, trapped in his throat and transformed as he cums, pumping hot and sticky into his own pants. 'Shit.'

'Shit.' You agree. Shimmying up his body, you let yourself relax against him and knock your foreheads together. Pressing a soft kiss to his nose, you shift until you can rest your head against his chest and sigh. His heart beat plays a steady drum roll to your ear from where it's pressed to his pec and you find your body relaxing as the tips of his fingers begin to sweep a path up and down your spine.

There's a pleasant ache in your muscles, a calmness in your bones as you lower your lips to his collar bone and blow against his skin.

Sero jumps at the sound, a grin already stretching his features as he shakes his head and knocks his chin against your crown. 'Y'alright there?'

Humming, you rake your teeth across him and bite down, sucking just enough that you're sure to leave a mark. There's already the faint edges of a giggle bubbling up your throat, a new looseness in your bones letting you release it, coating the air in your happiness. Sero joins you.

'You're a fucking menace.' He bites off his laughter, his hand leaving your back to tug at his pants. 'I'm fucking soaked.'

You chuckle and do your best to sit up in the hammock, showing off the blatant wetness on the front of your pants. 'You're soaked?'

'Is that you or me?' Sero cocks an eyebrow, but doesn't wait for an answer before swiping an index finger up the clothed slit of your cunt and popping it shamelessly into his mouth. He hums, rolling the sound around in his mouth for a moment, before nodding to himself. 'Both.' He smirks.

Shaking your head, you hit out at his shoulder a high-pitched 'ew' flying off of your tongue. The sudden movement offsets your balance, swaying the hammock and almost sending you careening over the edge.

'Woah there.' Gripping your waist, he steadies you easily. 'Don't want you to go falling for me now, do we?'

That earns him another light push, one that gives you enough momentum to stand, freeing your from the hammock. Now, stood up and out in the air, your pants stick uncomfortably to your legs, the bold dark spot across the front making your stomach squirm as you watch Sero's gaze settle on it. 'Have you got -.'

'Want something to change into?' He sits up on a elbow and grins when you nod. 'You want a pair of sweats, shorts -?.'

You shrug and pull at your pants, trying to keep the material away from your skin. 'I'm not picky.'

'Okay.' He nods. 'Okay.' The idea of you wearing his clothes makes his cock twitch and his stomach clench, but he plays it off as a stumble when he clambers from the hammock and slips out of the living room. There's a tension in his shoulders when he's confronted with his wardrobe, a dull buzzing that makes it hard to just pick any old pair of shorts or sweats from his selection. It takes him a moment, requires an awful lot of picturing you in various items of his clothing before he's set. Clutching the loose cotton sweats in his hands, he slips back into the living room and hands them to you without shaking.

'Thanks.' You smile. 'Bathroom?'

'Oh, shit. Down the hall on the right. Closed door.' He doesn't tell you that those where the pants he was wearing the first day he saw you all those years ago. It doesn't matter, after all. You're still not his... Just soon to be wrapped in his things. The reality of the moment slams into him hard. He needs to change. Needs to do something with his hands. Fuck. A smoke wouldn't be a bad idea, either. Slipping back into the hallway, set of ridding himself of his own soiled sweats, he almost makes it to his bedroom until he hears the dull and persistent buzzing of a phone ringing against cold tile.

Stood in the dull fluorescence of the bathroom, you grip the porcelain so hard you think it might crack. The aftershocks of your orgasm still have you weak and deer-legged, struggling to force your knees to bare your weight. You hadn't meant for this to happen, for the thing in your chest that longed for Sero to grow stronger and pull you back to him. Closing your eyes, you take a breath, forcing your body to relax. The relaxation lasts for as long as the breath does. Your phone skitters across the side of the sink making you wish that you hadn't bothered brining it with you. The noise burrows into your skull, ricocheting off of the walls and filling the space. You don't turn the phone over. The unknown reaches out in front of you and makes your hands shake as you reach for the device, but before you manage to flip the thing over it stops vibrating.

Reeling back, you chew at your lip before abandoning the idea of checking in favour of undressing. Changing is difficult with your mind whirring, but you manage to stave off the thought of Sero's sweats warming your legs as you make a grab for the phone. Turning it over, you stare at the small green Voicemail banner glowing on your screen.

A knock startles you before you can swipe at the screen and you shove the phone back into your pocket. Your hand is slippery when it grips the door knob, but it comes open with a little trouble.

Sero digs his socked foot into the wooden floor. He can hear his heart in his ears, the sound of your phone ringing playing back to his ears. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was and if he was trying to get I touch with you, then... 'Are you -.'

'I need to -.'

You both stop, words only half formed as you stand barely a few feet from each other in the hallway. The lightness of before has gone, leaving nothing, but brittle awkwardness and unspoken words behind.

Sero laughs, hand kneading at the flesh of his neck, but it does nothing to relax his shoulders. He wants to kiss you, but he can't. The thought burns. Still, he'd asked for this, hadn't he? For one more taste before he had to learn to loose you for good.

'You should probably change.' You grimace at your voice, at the way the words are too tight.

'Yeah...' Sero looks down and fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He'd been too wound up after hearing the phone that he'd forgotten to change, placating himself with a few anxious paces of his room. 'Are you – are you gonna stay or? I could -,' He cringes, the desperation clear in his voice now.

You shake your head. In your hand your phone begins to vibrate again. You silence it without cutting the call. 'I think, I think I should probably go?'

'Yeah.' Licking the dryness from his lips, he lets his shoulders sag.

It takes a moment for you to collect yourself. Trekking back to the living room, you stuff your soaked pants into your bag and slip your phone, still unanswered, into your back pocket, but you're still on the doorstep and ready to leave in under five minutes.

He doesn't mention that you've forgotten your underwear, still sticky, on his bedside table. Part of him doesn't want to lose that part of you too.

'Thanks for the pants.' You dig your nails into the strap of your bag. It hurts, seeing him cave in on himself and knowing that you’re the reason for this, too. It sours your stomach. You really should leave, before you do more damage. Damage you can’t fix.

‘It’s nothing -.’

‘I’ll wash them and pass them back next time I see you?’ Pausing you wait for him to add a date, to offer out a time or place, but he doesn’t. So you don’t push.

Sero nods, lip tugging into a faux smile. It feels odd on his mouth, making him want to frown again. 'Yeah. Yeah, sounds good. I -.'

Stepping forward, you give him ample time to step away before you lift a hand to trace the bruise on his jaw. You watch him hold his breath as you lean in to brush your lips against it, a small, innocent parting gift. An apology and so much more, you hope he’ll understand. ‘I’m -.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ He cuts you off, biting the inside of his mouth until you step over the threshold and vanish from his line of sight, only then does he let the emotions swirling in his chest crush him. The slam of the door shocks his bones, as does the hardness of the wood as his forehead comes to bang against it heavily. He grits his teeth. 'Fuck.'

He showers when you're gone, trying to scrub you from his body. It's pointless. He knows that much. He isn't even sure if there's a way to rid his heart of your finger prints and there’s no way that drug-store body wash is going to do it. The hammock is a no-go when he finally trudges back into the living room, in fact he might have to get rid of that now. Running a hand through wet hair, he curses his tongue for remembering your taste.

It's almost half an hour after you've let when there's a knock at his door again. His heart stutters, eyes wide as he presses a hand to his ribs to squeeze the air from his lungs. The faint smell of hope ensnares him, has him on his feet and pacing in seconds. He should get the door.

Another knock, this one heavier, unlocks his legs. He's not sure what might have drawn you back to his apartment so soon, but there's no time to question it. Ideas swirl dangerously around his head. Maybe you've changed your mind. Or Bakugo's changed his. Maybe you'd felt it too, the unmistakable thing that had bloomed in his chest as you laid in his arms... Or, maybe, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe you'd just come back for your underwear, suddenly displeased by the thought of them in his possession. Dragging his hair into a messy bun, he pads his way down the hall swallowing down the noxic mix of anxiety and excitement that threatens to drown him. He shakes out his limbs before taking hold of the handle, then, with baited breath he tosses open the door.

His smile dies, quickly replaced with a frown and a painful roll of his eyes. Folding his arms across his chest, he kicks up a leg and snarls. 'You here to hit me again?'

Bakugo sulks. 'I just wanna talk.'

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