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“So if he doesn’t have sex, he’ll die?”

“Yes, but he needs to have it multiple times to burn the fever out. More times than anyone can reasonably be asked to provide under normal circumstance.”

“Are multiple people an option?”

“Possibly, but given Eraserhead’s reluctance to allow even one person to see him like this…”

“I see. Can I see him?”

“He doesn’t want visitors right now.”

“Tell him it’s Yagi.”

“...very well.”

Toshinori sighs, rubbing his face with a shaking hand and then shoves his hand into his pocket. He stares hard at the wall opposite him, determinedly not thinking about the possibility of Shouta’s death. After a few long moments, the Doctor returns, nodding his head towards the room where Shouta is. Toshinori doesn’t hesitate, stepping in and quietly closing it shut behind him: aphrodisiac quirks usually enhance the sense, and Shouta is already someone with heightened senses.

On the bed, staring straight at him is Shouta. Toshinori keeps his face clear of his thoughts as he approaches, pulling out a chair.

“I won’t let you,” Shouta speaks up first, his voice a rasp, “I won’t let you martyr yourself for me the way I know you would.”

“Aizawa-kun…” Toshinori says slowly, pained. He tries to catch Shouta’s dark eyes but he’s turned them down towards his lap, where his hands are clenched into fists.

“I know you, Yagi,” murmurs Shouta, “You’d let me use you up. The effects of this...Once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop even if you begged me.”

“You think too little of yourself,” Toshinori chides gently, “I’m the most logical choice.”

Shouta snorts, shaking his head, “You think too highly of me,” Shouta retorts, “And you underestimate this Quirk.”

“You haven’t jumped me,” Toshinori points out gently, “You obviously have some semblance of control left.”

Shouta makes a wordless noise.

“If it’s me…” Toshinori trails off, swallows, continues, “If you don’t want me, or if there’s someone else you want then tell me and I’ll get them. There must be someone you trust with this.”

“No,” Shouta says, shaking his head, “I do, want you. Fuck. This isn’t how I wanted…”

He looks frustrated, pained. Shouta’s knuckles are white from where they’re twisted in the blankets.

“Do you want me, Aizawa-kun?” Toshinori asks, keeping his voice neutral. His hands grip his knees tightly.

“Fuck, yes, of course, I do I want to fuck you, I want to cum down that pretty throat of yours and on your face, I want to—” He cuts himself off with a pained noise. Takes a deep breath, “But I won’t. I’d rather die, than force you into this. Than...than see sleeping with me as some sort of— of sacrifice or duty. I’d rather die Toshinori,” Shouta turns to him then, and Toshinori can see it, the fever behind his eyes, the flush to his cheeks and sweat gathering at his temples.

“Shouta…” Toshinori pauses, swallows at using the other’s first name, flushing at the way it rolls off his tongue which is foolish, foolish considering what they’re discussing, “Shouta I want you too. I have for a long time.”

Shouta makes a pained, disbelieving sound. He looks away again, staring at a blank wall. There are no windows in this room, so it leaves Shouta staring at a blank wall.

“You’re lying,” Shouta rasps, sounding desperate, “You couldn’t— why would you want me?”

“Shouta...It’s true,” Toshinori replies, pained, desperate as well but in a different way, “I care for you deeply, as a friend and more. And while this isn’t the ideal situation, sex with you is— is something I’ve thought of often. Please, Shouta…”

Toshinori is trembling, and so is Shouta. This is not how Toshinori imagined this conversation going. He’d hoped for more candlelight, not hospital lights. And for Shouta to be in a state where he’d be more ready to believe Toshinori’s words instead of circumstance throwing doubt on everything. He hopes that the fever hasn’t stolen all of Shouta’s rational mind from him yet: that Shouta can still properly consent to this sort of thing and that he won’t come out of it disgusted.

He hopes: it’s all Toshinori can do, as he waits. Careful not to move closer into Shouta’s space, careful to keep his presence as unobtrusive as possible to avoid the gaze of the fever.

“...Okay,” it’s barely a whisper, Shouta’s voice quiet in a way it never is. Toshinori looks up from where his gaze had been on Shouta’s hands clenched in the sheets. He’s still not looking at Toshinori, still looking at the wall.

“I won’t,” Toshinori starts, bites his lips, says the rest even if it pains him, “I won’t do anything you don’t want, Shouta. I don’t want...I don’t want to hurt you, not ever.”

Shouta looks back at Toshinori then, his eyes dark and lips parted as he pants softly. His lips twitch upwards, “Isn’t that my line?” he asks, darkly amused.

“You’re the one drugged,” Toshinori points out sensibly.

Shouta shakes his head, smirking still, “I’m still here,” he says, “And I want this, want you. No regrets.”


Toshinori hesitates a moment then stands up, unbuttoning his shirt quickly but efficiently, “My Quirk may be nothing but embers now,” Toshinori says, drawing Shouta hungry gaze back to his face, “But some of it remains. I have more, ah, stamina than others in matters like this. So don’t feel the need to hold back for me.” He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and takes it off, gently placing it on the back of the chair. Then he starts to work on his pants, sliding them off with his underwear. He leaves his socks on: hospital floors are cold.

When he looks back at Shouta he’s flushes to see Shouta staring at him with his lips parted, blankets tossed aside and pants shoved halfway down his hips as Shouta pumps his hand up and down his cock. He looks at Toshinori like a man starved.

“Can I fuck you,” Shouta breathes, “Please, please can I fuck you.”

Toshinori flushes deeper, his own cock taking interest in the husky words, “Let’s get you out of those clothes first,” Toshinori replies, voice dropping an octave as he steps forward. Shouta’s eyes follow him with a hunger Toshinori hasn’t felt on him in years and he lets Toshinori touch him, arching into the gentle touches as Toshinori assists Shouta in removing his clothes. Shouta is careful, obviously holding himself back and letting Toshinori take the lead on this for now.

Not sure how to soothe the worry Toshinori can sense within Shouta, Toshinori sits on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and cupping Shouta’s face in his hand. He brushes his thumb against the scruff of Shouta’s beard, caressing the soft skin of the man he admired so much.

“It’s okay,” Toshinori soothes, “It’s okay. I promise I want this.”

Shouta lets out a shaky exhale and reaches out for the first time, grabbing Toshinori by the waist and gently tugging him closer, which Toshinori gladly obliges too until he’s where Shouta wants him, sitting in Shouta’s lap with his cock nestled in the cleft of Toshinori’s ass.

“Lube?” Shouta asks and Toshinori shifts and grabs a bottle that had been left by the staff on the side table. Shouta grabs the bottle and eyes it before nodding, seeming to accept the quality. The bottle opens with a click that echoes through the room and Toshinori shivers in anticipation, shifting in Shouta’s lap making the other man gasp.

“May I…?” Shouta trails off, his fingers, slick with lube, pause at Toshinori’s lower back.

“Yes,” Toshinori breathes, gasping when those fingers slip between his cheeks and circle around the tight ring of muscle hidden between. He leans forward, bracing himself against Shouta’s chest and spreading his legs, trying to make access easier for Shouta’s fingers. It’s been a long time since Toshinori’s done this, too long. But Shouta’s finger slides in slowly, the drag of it soothed by the lube, and he paused, letting Toshinori adjust.

Shouta’s panting, Toshinori feels the fever beginning to take hold. But even still, Shouta is so gentle with Toshinori, every movement slow and considerate as he slides his finger in and out, letting Toshinori get used to the feeling. Another soon joins as Toshinori relaxes. So focussed on the fingers in his ass, Toshinori doesn’t notice that Shouta’s shifted until he feels the brush of teeth against his neck. With a heavy groan, Toshinori bares his neck to Shouta as he pushes back against the fingers inside him. Taking the invitation for what it is, Shouta gently bites at Toshinori’s neck, sucking at the thin skin there. There will be bruises tomorrow: good, Toshinori thinks.

“I’m ready Shouta,” Toshinori murmurs after a few more minutes, his body warmed and relaxed and his dick hard against his stomach, “Fuck me like you need to.”

Shouta breathes in sharply, grabbing the bottle of lube and condom, fumbling slightly in his haste to get more. As quickly as possible, Shouta sheathes his cock in the condom and spreads lube liberally along it. Toshinori shifts, standing up on his knees and positioning himself. Slowly, Toshinori sinks down on Shouta, his body readily accepting the intrusion like he was made for it. Shouta’s hands scramble as he curses, finally settling at Toshinori’s waist as he whines, high-pitched and desperate for more. Sharp teeth bite down on Toshinori’s neck as he shifts up and then sinks back down again. It only takes a few more shifting movements for Shouta to cum for the first time, his whole body shaking with it as the fever begins to catch onto the fact that what it wants is happening now.

He still hard and Toshinori shivers, anticipation welling within him as he waits for Shouta to catch his breath. Tenderly, he brushes Shouta’s dark hair out of his face, pressing kisses to his stubbled cheek, “You good,” Toshinori asks, voice a rumble of lust and love.

“More,” Shouta gasps, his grip on Toshinori’s hips tightening, “I need more.”

With a grin Toshinori leans forward, gently nipping at Shouta’s earlobe before he whispers, “Then take it.”

With a growl, Shouta moves them so Toshinori’s laying on his back, his legs hooked around Shouta’s waist. He barely wastes grabbing another condom (the suspiciously wet sound that comes when Shouta drops the used one into the trashcan makes Toshinori suspect Shouta didn’t bother tying it off) a moment lining up and pressing back in, the way slicked with lube. He grunts, fucking into Toshinori hard and fast and Toshinori hangs on tightly, his breath stuttering in his chest and moans building deep within him. Together, they make music with their bodies, a song as old as humanity itself. Feeling a tightness coil within him, Toshinori urges Shouta on wordlessly, drawing him into his body with his legs, holding on as Shouta fucks into him. Shouta, perhaps sensing that Toshinori is close, reaches between them and jerks Toshinori in time with his thrusts. That’s all it takes for Toshinori to cum in streaks across his stomach, his back arching. Shouta is still fucking into him, grunts filling the small room with the sound of skin slapping on skin. Toshinori drifts for a bit, letting his body be used the way Shouta needs to use it while he recovers from his own orgasm, his body occasionally shuddering with oversensitivity. Finally, Shouta shudders above him, pressing his hips flush against Toshinori as he empties himself into the condom for the second time.

Shouta pulls out, gasping for breath, removing the condom. Toshinori grabs this one before it can form a mess in the trash can like the first one, tying it off. Shouta barely moves away, nuzzling into Toshinori neck and sucking at the skin there, sucking bruises into it while his hand moves between Toshinori’s legs, bringing his cock to attention again.

“Do you need more?” Toshinori breathes as he spreads his legs when the hand dips lower, pushing into Toshinori and wrenching a groan from him.

“Yesss,” Shouta hisses. He’s still hard, still dripping cum like he hasn’t already orgasmed twice in the past fifteen minutes.

“How do you want me?” Toshinori asks though he suspects that the answer is obvious by the finger currently in his ass.

Shouta hums, thinking, then gently maneuvers Toshinori around so he’s on his hands and knees. Another condom opened, and Shouta slips into Toshinori’s body like it’s where he’s meant to be. Toshinori rest on his forearms, ass in the air as Shouta fucks into him like his life depends on it, which it does, Toshinori supposes. Sweat gathers between his shoulder blades and Toshinori focusses on that as Shouta grunts and cums for the third time, only keep going, not even pausing to remove the condom.

“Make a mess outta you,” Shouta murmurs, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chases his next orgasm desperately, “Fuck you full of cum, no one else’s.”

Toshinori groans, pushing back against Shouta as his second orgasm builds within him. He reaches down and jerks sloppily, only for Shouta to pull his hand away, “No,” Shouta grunts, “Just from this,” he says jerking particularly forcefully against Toshinori.

It seems Shouta is determined to make it happen because he thrusts into Toshinori as hard as he feasibly can, the bed frame smacking against the wall, the springs creaking. Toshinori, sensitive from his first orgasm and loving every moment of the experience, focussing on the feeling of Shouta filling him up and moving within him. It takes a few more minutes of frantic thrusting, but Toshinori does get there, cumming untouched, which triggers Shouta into orgasm again.

Shouta pulls out, removing the sloppy condom. Toshinori allows his lower half to fall to the bed, panting, uncaring that he’s laying in his own cum. His age is catching up to him: ten years ago he’d be ready to go again already. Shouta is panting as well, and Toshinori can hear the slick sound of the man jerking his own cock in desperation.

“It’s okay,” Toshinori murmurs, shifting his hips invitation, “I can take more.”

“No more condoms,” Shouta grunts then gasps as he cums yet again, this time it streaks across Toshinori’s back.

“It’s okay,” Toshinori repeats, reaching back and tangling his fingers with Shouta’s, “It’s okay.”

With a groan, Shouta mounts him again, pressing in and nearly sobbing in relief. Toshinori drifts, letting Shouta orgasm in him twice more before his own cock takes an interest in things again. Almost lazily, Toshinori jerks himself in time with Shouta, his third orgasm shuddering through him.

After what feels like an eternity of Shouta orgasms again but instead of continuing on he sighs, panting heavily. He pulls out slowly and shushes Toshinori when he whimpers in both pain and loss. He falls next to Toshinori in the bed, sidling up close and clinging to him like a starfish. Toshinori comes back to his body in bits and pieces, realizes the fever has finally passed and sighs snuggling closer to Shouta.

“Thank you,” Shouta murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Toshinori smiles, his eyes closed as he begins to fall asleep, “Any time.”