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- Give me your hand, Izuku. -

Izuku violently shivers. It’s already happened multiple times during the long, endless ten minutes; and each time his back is shaken by that unintentional tremor and his expression looks like it’s about to crawl, Ochako smiles – as nervous as he is, but strong enough to pretend she’s confident, brave enough to look for a solution that puts both of them at ease. In that case she raises her hand and slowly touches his hair, drowning her fingers into his curls. Izuku swallows; he turns and places a kiss on her arm, silently thanking her.

He finally gifts her with his hand; there are few things he’d be able to deny her. She takes hit, always careful not to touch him with all five of her fingers – or Izuku would find himself floating on the ceiling with only a blanket covering his nudity – and slowly, one inch at a time, leads it towards her breasts. The rest is a matter of mere instincts: for some moment Izuku isn’t able to process what just happened, so happy he almost seems dizzy; then the weight of reality falls onto him, and he takes back the control of his moments. For the first time in his life he sinks his fingers in tender, soft flesh, trembling from head to toe when Ochako moans in satisfaction.

- Touch the other one too. - She murmurs, almost too quickly; then, realizing her tone, she stares at him with eyes wide open. - If...if you want. You don’t have to, I mean… -

- No, no, I do. - He answers, before she can start stuttering again. They’re both keeping a facade of confidence for the sake of the other one; they both let it crawl piece by piece and anxiously look between the cracks to understand what’s actually in front of them. It’s not about physical nudity: it’s a deeper and more intimate act than it was watching her undress in front of him – and with each gesture, each gentle touch, the tension and doubt slowly drift away as water on their skin.

Izuku understand, with each caress and each grasp, what Ochako loves and what she doesn’t like; his body acts before his thoughts, a power struggle between what he wants to feel and what he feels like showing – a barrier that Izuku, overtaken by a little power trip each time she moans his name, decides to break down completely. He wraps his arms around her waist and slowly lifts her, watching in awe has her hair slip on her naked shoulders; he never noticed before how smooth and soft they are, how fresh they smell. Love is helping him find out about a whole new Ochako: better yet, he’s helping him see her as she really is without the fear of being rejected blinding him. It’s a gift he’ll eternally be grateful to her for, no matter what happens.

He returns back her smile, small and shy and terribly sweet – and when he closes his eyes and he bends down to take her breast into his mouth she places her hands in her hair once again, and it’s her turn to shiver.