It’s five thirty on a Wednesday afternoon. Lessons have ended, the after school clubs are winding to a close, most of the kids are gone by now. The majority of Class 1A are in their dorms pretending to work. Shouta will be returning from his one-to-one remedial lessons with Ashido and Kaminari soon. Hizashi has Shouta’s schedule well enough established in his mind that he knows he will walk through the staff room doors any minute.
Perched on his desk, Hizashi waits for his boyfriend, knowing full well that he’ll head straight back to his office and work through the rest of the day. And most of the night.
Hizashi rests his chin on a gloved hand and sighs balefully.
“Look at that sad little face.”
Nemuri is laughing at him. He just pouts and gazes out the window, where he sees the last dribble of students making their leisurely way home through the glass. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re laughing, shadows long in the afternoon sun.
“He’s never gonna come, Nem.”
“It would be wrong of us not to try.”
Hizashi nods. He’ll always keep trying to get Shouta to take a break, even if it’s as useful as talking to a brick wall. But Hizashi know Shouta better than anyone, and he knows that when he’s in ‘the zone’ as much as he has been recently, there’s little that can deter that focus. He’s been in productivity overdrive for weeks, keeping himself so busy with school and hero work and keeping Class 1A under a close eye that it’s even making him twitchy. Him, the famously hyperactive hero.
Hizashi sighs theatrically, tipping his head back and moaning loudly.
“Stop worrying about him.”
“Oh sure! I’ll just stop worrying about him, why didn’t I think of that before, man?”
“All any of us can do is make our best effort to get him to relax, that’s it. You can draw a horse to water, Mic, but you can't make them drink. Particularly if they’re stubborn twats like Shouta.”
That’s when Hizashi turns his attention to Nemuri, folding his arms across his chest in defiance. “Hold up now, that’s my boyfriend you’re-”
“Don’t even pretend you don’t agree, he’s the most stubborn of all of us.”
“I- I mean, you’re not wrong but it’s the principle, yo-”
In a way that is wonderfully typical of Shouta, he walks in at that very moment, unaware and completely uninterested in the conversation that he has interrupted. Hizashi turns abruptly- leather trousers screeching obscenely on his desk in the process- and sees Shouta close the sliding door behind him, books in one arm. He’s quite skilfully managed to zip up his sleeping-bag so that his feet poke out the bottom, but so that it stays in position around his body. And so he shuffles to his desk, a bright yellow chrysalis with an even more weary expression than usual.
The textbooks fall out of Shouta’s arms and onto his desk with a satisfying slap. He sighs and sits in his desk chair just as Hizashi slides into his own chair, straddling it and leaning his arms along the neckrest.
“How is the sleeping bag staying up,” Nemuri says, apparently reading Hizashi’s mind.
“It’s safety-pinned,” Shouta replies drily, voice a little thin.
A deep purple is spread under his eyes like makeup. The stubble is, impossibly, more patchy than usual and his hair a total mess, which will mean another hair-brushing session with Hizashi tearing a comb through it. Shouta logs into his computer and emails some documents to himself so he can access them on his laptop back at the apartment- he worries his lip as he winces at the screen, eyes too exhausted to focus.
Hizashi purses his lips and feels his heart twist the longer he looks at his boyfriend.
“We’re going out for drinks and you’re joining,” he says decisively.
Shouta’s shoulders heave with a great sigh. It’s the third sigh since he entered the room thirty seconds ago. “I can’t, ‘Zashi. I’m-”
“Busy,” Nemuri and Hizashi finish in unison.
Shouta flashes them a blank look that almost looks like he’d roll his eyes, if he could be bothered. “Then you understand,” he ends up saying.
“A break, Shouta,” Nemuri argues, leaning across the desk in earnest so her face is almost pressed against the wood. “Just a little time to do something that isn’t sleeping or working.”
Hizashi watches Shouta open his mouth to argue. He knows what words are on the tip of that tongue: Why? The reason he decides not to say anything, Hizashi reckons, is because he knows just how much Shouta values his time with his friends- and with his boyfriend in particular. He’d confided in Hizashi only last week about how different life has felt now that the two of them spend time together as a couple.
Even if that time isn’t enough.
Shouta begins to gather a pile of marking, logging off his computer. Hizashi rolls his chair towards Shouta so it crashes into his like a bumper car. They both drift along the floor, Shouta sighing again.
“One drink?” Hizashi tries.
Hizashi pouts. Big, green, woebegone eyes peering at him over his sunglasses. Shouta narrows his eyes at him.
“Don’t do the face.”
“Why not?” he says through a pout.
“Because it works,” Shouta argues, getting up to leave.
“Why else do you think I’m pulling out the face?” Hizashi complains. “Come on, please? Please please please please please-”
“Maybe on Friday,” Shouta gives in, rubbing a crease in his brow. Dark, ringed eyes look the other way, determined not to fall on Hizashi. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
With that, Shouta leaves the common-room. Hizashi and Nemuri watch the door slide closed without further argument. They fall into an uncharacteristic, concerned silence.
If they’re lucky, they manage to pass each other in the school corridor on Thursday mornings.
Today, Hizashi strolls down the corridor with a skip in his step, whistling Lady Gaga out of tune. He fingerguns students, fist bumps a few, and when he looks up he sees Shouta turn the corner.
These days, Shouta can’t go anywhere without either concerned parents following him, or Class 1A asking him a flurry of questions. Today, Iida walks in Shouta’s wake, gesticulating as if describing a military operation and trying to catch up with his homeroom teacher.
Considering the fact that Iida has jet engines in his calves, it’s remarkable that he doesn’t catch up with Shouta. That is just how much his teacher is trying to outpace him without actually breaking into a run. And Hizashi knows better than anyone how much Shouta cares for his students- they’re practically his children, a fact that he’s pointed out to his wilfully ignorant boyfriend. But having twenty children is exhausting, and sometimes papa just needs a break.
Which explains why Shouta gives him a pleading look when he catches his eye. Just as Hizashi is about to walk past, he catches Iida by the shoulder- it takes some effort to stop him in his tracks. That boy is on a mission wherever he goes.
“Yo, hold ya horses there, dude! Let your sensei do his thing, man, you can catch him when he ain’t such a busy bee, know what I’m sayin’?”
Iida frowns and purses his lips apologetically, nodding in fierce understanding as he accepts this Present Mic spiel. Hizashi casts a glance at Shouta, but he’s already gone.
Hizashi takes his place at the table of the staff meeting room, appearing a few minutes early as he usually does. The seat beside him is left empty as the rest of the staff file in, everyone knowing full well that the seat beside Present Mic is always for Eraserhead. Said hero, typically, arrives a couple of minutes late looking like he’s been awoken mid-nap- which, of course, he probably has.
And the meeting goes by slowly. This is not a particularly high stakes discussion- for once, no one has been kidnapped or possibly killed. And so Nezu goes over normal school matters, and Hizashi finds his mind switching off. His attention span has never been as good as Shouta’s.
Today, however, Hizashi notices that Shouta’s doing worse than him. He’s staring at an old condensation ring on the wooden table, eyes slightly wide in exhaustion. And he can feel his leg bouncing up and down- a tic that Hizashi’s usually in the habit of displaying, rarely the more lethargic Shouta. And Hizashi knows that it’s more than just physical exhaustion- Shouta sleeps when he can. It’s an emotional fatigue and lack of conscious relaxation that’s caused this. The problem is that there’s very little use trying to persuade Shouta to do anything that he doesn’t already have his mind on. Hizashi has learned that much in fifteen years.
And as Hizashi’s eyes fall down the shape of his partner’s profile- his square jaw, the natural pout on his lips, dark eyes- Hizashi’s thoughts begin to stray somewhat. To removing the scarf to expose his throat, to stroking back his hair to kiss his scarred cheek. To let a hand wander over to his thigh. It makes Hizashi’s heart jump. It’s not entirely uncommon for him to daydream during work if it’s a particularly boring meeting, but since their relationship began only a couple of months ago, and since they have hardly any time together, Hizashi admits that the habit has only worsened.
Now, as he considers just how much Shouta needs a break and just how desperate Hizashi is to have some time with him, a plan suddenly begins to formulate.
Shouta double-takes when he sees the grin that’s spreading across Hizashi’s face, no doubt wandering why he’s staring and smirking. What’re you staring at, his responding look conveys.
Hizashi merely looks away and drums his fingers against the meeting room table. You can draw a horse to water, but you can't make him drink, you say, he thinks to himself. We’ll see about that.
Hizashi waits in Shouta’s apartment, for which he has a key. It’s six pm on Friday night, the students are working, with Kan invigilating. Music plays quietly, a bottle of good, traditional Japanese whisky on the kitchen-dining room table, and the lights are down low. There’s stew cooking on a low heat on the stove and the place is filled with home-cooked aromas. Hizashi sits on the edge of Shouta’s sofa and waits.
He’s considered that this idea might be crazy. That he’ll only end up feeling like a fool, that Shouta won’t be interested. And then, he’ll pick apart this evening, lamenting over how ridiculously unsexy and uncool he is for the rest of his life, which he does most days anyway- there’s a reason he tries so hard, after all. Because tonight- well, even if he isn’t a particularly attractive guy, he really hopes that his wiles are good enough to take one second of Shouta’s attention away from his work. Just to get him to relax, for a short while.
The feeling of Momo the cat rubbing up against his leg snaps him out of his brief anxiety spiral. He bends down to pet her gently, but she has apparently decided that she’s above Hizashi’s attention now, slinking away and trotting into the bedroom, where she tends to sleep on Shouta’s pillow.
“Fine then,” Hizashi mutters, watching the cat abandon him as quickly as she arrived.
The door begins to rattle, the sound of the key turning making him jump up off the arm of the sofa and flatten his shirt- Shouta’s favourite, just one of the many silky, garish items in his wardrobe. Finding that he doesn’t know why he’s stood up so abruptly, like he’s being let in for an interview, he sits down again, crossing and uncrossing and recrossing his legs ‘sexily’ and internally berating himself for having absolutely none of the oozing confidence that he’s meant to have right now.
And then Shouta steps through the door- or rather, he bursts through the door like he’s in a rush.
“Shou?” Hizashi asks, watching his boyfriend make a b-line for the office. He’s taking off his capture gear and dropping it on the back of the sofa, boiler suit slightly unzipped. “Shouta- where are you-?”
“Hi Hizashi,” Shouta calls over his shoulder as he goes into his office and turns on the main light. Compared to the rest of the half-lit apartment, it’s incredibly bright, and Hizashi winces a little as he hovers in the doorway. “I’m not staying long- I’ll be back in an hour or two, I’m going to join Kan invigilating the kids and-”
“I don’t want to leave Kan alone with all of them.”
Shouta drops his books on his desk, ruffling his messy hair and hesitating as if he’s trying to remind himself what he came in here for. Back turned towards Hizashi, he nods to himself like he’s remembered something, opens his desk drawer to find some past-papers that are left unmarked and a few other bits of paperwork.
Hizashi steps further into the office.
“You don’t need to go, Shouta. Kan doesn’t need the help, there are staff shifts for a reason.”
“They’re a handful, Hizashi-”
“I know, I teach them too.”
“And if something happens there needs to be more than one teacher.”
“If someth- Shouta, holy shit, they’re fine! That’s why they’re here and why Kan’s there, to keep them safe! You need to slow down, babe, please!”
Hizashi doesn’t have the time to explain how worried he’s been about him, because Shouta has assembled his new pile of work and is turning on the spot back towards the door. The look in his eye is a little wild from the exhaustion, and there’s a twitch in his temple- this is what happens when you’re on constant high alert. And whilst he’d sort of been hoping to have the evening to butter Shouta up a bit, this is do or die. Hizashi is watching his boyfriend power towards the office door. If he lets him through, he’ll burn himself out even more than he already has.
And he’s not having it.
Like a true hero, Hizashi steps into Shouta’s bulldozing path. He takes Shouta’s surprised face in his hands and steps close into his space.
“Oh no you don’t,” he growls.
Any hope of being especially seductive tonight, playing sexy music or doing a strip-tease has immediately gone out of the window. Instead, Hizashi just draws himself close, hands in Shouta’s messy hair and lips inches away, pressing his body against his so that Shouta stumbles backwards, off balance, hands flying to Hizashi’s back to hold onto something. Sheets of paper flutter to the floor. He feels Shouta’s breath against his lips as he exhales roughly in surprise.
Dark, confused eyes settle on Hizashi’s, brow deeply furrowed. “’Zashi, what’re you-”
Hizashi presses himself closer and plants a feather light kiss on Shouta’s cheek. The shuddering breath in his ear tells Hizashi that he’s on the right tracks. And the anticipation of distracting Shouta this evening with sex has kept Hizashi on edge all day- if he comes off a little desperate, it’s because he is.
“Hizashi…” Shouta begins to complain, but never finishes.
Hizashi runs his hands through his hair some more, drags his lips along his cheek and along his neck. And then Shouta’s hands pull him closer, and they stumble a little further backwards, neither one seeing where they’re going.
“I want to make you feel good, baby,” Hizashi whispers in Shouta’s ear. “I wanna make you unwind.”
Hizashi bites a kiss into Shouta’s neck, licking over the skin. Shouta pants out a surprised little moan. He isn’t particularly quiet in bed, but he’s not usually so vocal either; Hizashi reckons it’s the suddenness of it all that makes him moan now, the being caught off guard. One of the reasons he hoped this might work is because Shouta had admitted one night that he enjoys a little spontaneity.
“Will you let me, Shou?” Hizashi says through pouted lips, tracing his lips up his neck again till they’re hovering above Shouta’s, tantalising and breaths mixing. His voice is keening and sugary. “Will you let me do nice things for you?”
And judging by the way Shouta’s hand pulls him in by the small of Hizashi’s back, and the way his eyes have darkened, mouth parted and breathing heavy, Hizashi thinks with some triumph that his wiles may not be so bad after all.
“I need to… ‘Zashi, I have to…” Shouta starts, but he seems to forget his lines. His eyes are anywhere but the office door, now.
“Shhhh,” he lays a finger on Shouta’s lips, and the man’s eyes widen a little comically. He feels a bit ridiculous right now, but he tries to ignore those feelings. “You don’t need to do anything. Everything’s fine, everyone’s safe, you need to slow down. You need to look after yourself. And I want to help.”
“Help…?” Shouta repeats a little uselessly against Hizashi’s silencing finger, voice low and breathy.
Hizashi smiles a little, gently draws Shouta’s face towards his and kisses him. Kisses him deeply, messily, with tongue- he’s not usually a fan of using so much tongue, but now, he’s feeling dirty and greedy and he’s drunk on the knowledge that Shouta is under his spell.
The totally logical Aizawa Shouta. The man who doesn’t see the point in consuming anything other than vitamin jelly packets and activities outside of sleeping. The man who has been riding none stop on an anxiety rollercoaster these past few months, addicted to working. The man who lives by reason and common sense. That man is currently returning Hizashi’s advances.
In fact, he’s running his hands all over Hizashi’s back, winding under his silk shirt and kissing him hungrily and panting into his mouth like an animal who’s only just noticed that he’s starving.
He gently guides Shouta backwards until the back of his knees hit his office chair- a sturdy looking thing that encourages Hizashi to pursue the flash of inspiration that’s just hit him.
He’s been saving his secret weapon in his back pocket in case the moment called for it, and this seems like the perfect time.
Pulling away from the kiss, Hizashi lays a hand on Shouta’s chest- Shouta, whose eyes are closed and who’s leaning forward chasing for Hizashi’s lips, is pushed into the office chair. He hits the leather with a thud, looking up at Hizashi with an expression that’s a mixture of dazed, eager, and taken aback. Arms hanging at his sides lazily.
Hizashi’s never tried anything like this before. He’s never done the commanding, dom role before. He’s painfully aware of that as he looks down at Shouta, who sits and stares at him with his mouth hanging open like he’s been winded. But Hizashi ignores the self-consciousness and steps forward into Shouta’s lap, settling there and leaning forward so he can plant a brief, affectionate little kiss on his nose. And then his lips- slow and purposeful. Shouta leans into the kiss and hums longingly. Hizashi unzips the boilersuit, painfully slowly. Runs his hands along Shouta’s arms, pulls down his suit to his waist.
Hizashi’s right hand reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a pair of cuffs.
When he reaches around for Shouta’s hands, he doesn’t seem to realise exactly what Hizashi’s doing until he’s started guiding his wrist into he second cuff. Shouta pulls away from the kiss, and Hizashi’s a little relieved for it- cuffing him and kissing involves a fair bit of multi-tasking.
“You’re cuffing me to my desk chair,” Shouta remarks with a hint of disbelief. There’s still a small frown on his face, eyes a little wide in shock. Lips parted. “Hizashi, this is…”
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks sweetly, rocking against Shouta and biting his lip. The friction is bliss, and Shouta’s head falls back against the headrest of the chair.
“No,” he chokes, eyes falling shut. “No, don’t stop.”
Shouta rocks up against him, eyes cracking open so he can watch Hizashi. And Hizashi likes this- oh, he really likes this. He leans in for a kiss, then pulls away just before their lips can meet. Shouta moves forward, but is jolted to a stop from the cuffs- he grunts with frustration, but he doesn’t sound entirely displeased, either. What does make Hizashi frown is the way that Shouta’s eyes move to the pile of paperwork on the floor, and the spark that seems to dim the moment he sees it.
Hizashi takes Shouta’s chin in his hand and turns his face towards him. He can’t quite believe what he’s doing, and the expression on Shouta’s face shows that he can’t quite believe it either.
“I want you to look at me,” Hizashi breathes, and he begins to unbutton his shirt slowly with his free hand, still sat in Shouta’s lap. “Don’t think about anything else. Just this.”
“Fuck, Hizashi…” Shouta remarks, brows knit together, and he’s not sure whether that’s a complaint or praise- it might be a bit of both. Shouta’s eyes flutter slightly, following Hizashi’s hand working down his shirt.
“You haven’t been looking after yourself,” Hizashi chastises gently, releasing Shouta’s chin. He lets his shirt fall off his shoulders, silk drifting to the ground silently. “I don’t like it when you don’t look after yourself.”
And Shouta exhales harshly, lips parted and eyes scanning Hizashi up and down. A deep fierce, frown. And for a moment he thinks he might tell Hizashi to stop this. But then-
“Are you going to make me?”
The moment the words pour out of Shouta’s mouth, Hizashi smirks and he dives into a kiss. Shouta grunts against the rough delivery, but arches his back to search for more, wriggles a little against the restraints to try and touch him. It draws out a frustrated groan against Hizashi’s lips. The feeling drives Hizashi wild.
Can't make a horse drink, huh, Hizashi thinks a little smugly.
And whilst he’d planned on playing some Missy Elliott whilst putting on a little strip tease show, Hizashi reckons that he can do it without music, too. He’s a performer after all. So he pulls away once more, steps out of Shouta’s lap and makes a point of unzipping his jeans slowly. Shouta’s watching now, there’s no doubt about it- that paperwork on the floor is entirely forgotten. There isn’t any way of taking of tight trousers sexily, but at this point, Hizashi doesn’t think there’s any way he could put Shouta off. He kicks off his shoes, his socks, and removes the little bottle of lube in his back pocket, pointedly dropping it on the desk.
Shouta stares at the bottle.
“You had cuffs and lube in your pocket.”
“You never know when you have to cuff your boyfriend to his desk chair and let him know how bad he’s been.”
The air rushes out of Shouta and he closes his eyes shaking his head to himself. “If I’d known this was your tactic,” he says, voice a little hoarse, “I’d’ve ‘been bad’ years ago.”
Hizashi shimmies his jeans down over his hips. And Shouta watches the whole thing. That’s the point of course, and Hizashi is used to all eyes being on him as a celebrity. But Shouta’s eyes have always been the most important, and this feels very, very different. The heat of a self-conscious blush rushes to his face. He’s surprised there’s any blood left for his cheeks, considering how hard he is right now. He lets his eyes run down Shouta’s body, his boiler suit falling down to his hips so that the curve of his clavicle shows, the defined planes of muscles on his stomach, the v of his hips and the trail of hair from his navel. And Hizashi declothes, eyes fixed on Shouta in anticipation like he’s about to step into a hot bath.
He takes his seat in Shouta’s lap, the lack of chair arms meaning he can bring himself as close as possible, their bodies flush against each other. His cock rubbing against Shouta’s stomach. His breath hitches at the contact, the intense sensitivity, and Shouta pants needily, tongue not quite hanging out, but it’s a close thing.
“I want to touch you,” Shouta says in a rush, words crushed together.
Hizashi leans back, pulling out his hair tie so his hair falls over his bare shoulders. Shouta watches, lips pressed together in frustration and a tiny wrinkle in his brow that’s almost endearing. He traces a thumb over his forehead, smoothing out the crease and caressing Shouta’s face. Shouta rocks up against Hizashi a little desperately.
“Where do you want to touch me,” Hizashi asks, kissing his forehead.
Shouta breathes deeply, exhales roughly. Hizashi feels his breath against his neck. “Everywhere.”
“Hmm,” Hizashi replies, voice syrupy and needy as he presses himself against Shouta’s body, wraps his arms around his neck. One hand pulling Shouta’s head closer so he can kiss his neck. He feels him leave urgent little bites along his shoulder, tongue swiping over his skin. “I’m just going to have to touch myself.”
That draws out a groan from Shouta. A long, frustrated, but undeniably pleased groan. “You’re killing me.”
“You deserve it,” Hizashi retorts with a pout.
He leans back again, thighs squeezing tightly against Shouta to keep himself in place. And he searches for the lube- taking it from the desk and opening the bottle with a satisfying little pop. Shouta watches with desperation and anticipation as Hizashi pours liberally onto his hand. He reaches round to find his entrance just as he might any night he’s by himself, messing about with a vibrator or beads. But this is different. He’s never had anyone watch him before. And he’s almost too nervous to do it, with Shouta’s dark eyes fixed on him. There’s an amazing amount of control in that expression.
But behind the lip he’s biting there’s a groan, and behind the blown pupils of his eyes there’s urgency. Almost a pain to touch him. Hizashi only sees these things because he knows him so well.
And it’s hard not to let his eyes flutter closed as he begins to work on himself, rocking onto his own hand. But he wants to watch Shouta, he wants to see him lose that control. He wants to see the moment when he finally lets go, unravels. His eyes scan the pretty purple bruises he’s left on his neck, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, throat dry from panting, lips parted. His eyes are a little more dazed, and the expression is more tortured.
“You like watching me, yeah?” Hizashi breathes. “You like watching me, don’t you?”
Shouta purses his lips against a noise that Hizashi wishes he could hear. Shouta’s breath falters, gets stuck in his throat, and Hizashi feels his hips move upwards against his in a desperate attempt to involve himself in all of this. Hizashi grins. Braces his free hand against Shouta’s shoulder for balance, continues to finger himself with the other. His forehead pressed against Shouta’s and his breath coming out ragged.
He finds just the right spot- he usually does sat upright like this- and he whines.
Shouta whines, too.
“You wanna touch me?”
“Yes- fuck, yes, so much-”
Straddling Shouta like this whilst prepping himself requires some decent core muscles, and his body is already beginning to complain. He grips onto Shouta’s shoulder enough that it probably hurts, and Shouta groans.
“You’re gonna stay where you are,” Hizashi pants, feeling his stomach muscles quivering. He’s three fingers in now anyway, and he’s not sure how much longer he wants to wait. “And I’m gonna ride you till you forget your name.”
“Hah,” Shouta breathes, writhing against the cuffs. “Hizashi- fuck, yes-”
Briefly, Hizashi considers just how much the mood has changed in the past ten or fifteen minutes that they’ve been in here. Looking at Shouta now, leaning against his restraints and rutting against Hizashi, it’s almost impossible to imagine that Shouta had had anything else on his mind. The desperation in his voice, even with the still relatively controlled expression, is enough to make him grin triumphantly.
“Are you sure?” he asks, just to be mean.
Shouta shuts his eyes and huffs. “Hizashi.”
“You know what I want to hear.” Honestly, Hizashi has no idea where this dialogue is coming from, but it’s working.
Shouta opens his eyes again, hair beginning to stick to sweaty skin. “Please,” he says roughly, with a spark of irritation.
Hizashi’s grin spreads.
And he removes his hand with a lewd, slick noise that makes something squirm inside him pleasantly, and he unzips the rest of the boiler suit. Shouta eagerly lifts up his hips for the rest of it to come off, although Hizashi takes a little more time teasing the edge of the waistband of his underwear before shucking it off. All the while, Shouta’s breath is ragged and broken, and he’s pursing his lips against the noises- swallowing them down with a fierce look of anticipation in his eye.
As soon as Hizashi moves back to sit in his lap, he wraps a hand around Shouta’s cock and Shouta’s head snaps back as he chokes on thin air.
Shouta moves his hips instinctively, strains against the cuffs. Hizashi pushes him back roughly. Shouta exhales in surprise, but looks happy at being manhandled.
“Sit still,” Hizashi orders, “And let me do the work.”
Shouta swallows, the sound of his throat clicking is audible. His forehead shining with perspiration. “Yes, boss.”
And there’s something about that that makes Hizashi make a pleased hum to himself, and take this even more painfully slowly. He gives Shouta’s cock a few strokes, adding a little more lube for safe measure, taking his sweet time and revelling in the way that Shouta is now biting his lip, biting it hard enough that the skin goes white. Taking immense pleasure in the way his eyes scan Hizashi up and down. His chest heaving with deep breathes.
When Hizashi leans against Shouta’s shoulder and guides himself down onto his cock, the control disappears. The groan that slips from Shouta’s lips is about as pornographic as possible. The tension in his shoulders unravels.
And the smile on Hizashi’s lips is entirely victorious.
He wastes no time. He moves against Shouta and sits down on him heavily, filling himself up- the breath rushing out of him. And as he begins to rock the chair creaks, just a little, but loud enough that it makes the whole scene just that more explicit. And all Shouta can do is sit there and take it- head tilted back and showing the curve of his neck, the sheen of sweat down his chest, a pink flush across his skin, strong arm muscles twitching in complaint, eager to reach out for him.
Dark eyes watching him ride him.
And the pace is slow, slow and steady and hard, nails digging into Shouta’s shoulders. Groans of pleasure as Hizashi moves, finding all the angles that Shouta can fill him. Toe curling and tantatlising- more, more-
The chair creaks and Hizashi moans.
“Fuck,” Shouta pants, leaning heavily against the back of the chair as if he’s lost all his strength. “’Zashi- fu- fuck me- use me-”
“Don’t hold back, don’t hold back,” Shouta babbles, which is something in of itself, because Hizashi has never heard Shouta babble in his life.
Well, he’s certainly not going to deny him.
He quickens the pace. He fucks him harder, faster- grips on harder so his nails dig in deeper, squeezes his thighs tighter against Shouta’s. And he doesn’t hold back the moans and groans and pants and gasps and desperate little needy noises as he rides Shouta and feels him reach that sweet spot that makes his muscles tense deliciously. And Shouta arches against the chair, deep heaving breathes torn out of him and deep, low noises pouring out of him that Hizashi’s never heard before. And all the while, as Hizashi uses Shouta, fucking him hard, just like he asked, he pushes the hair out of his face with his free hand. A small, gentle gesture behind it all. He hasn’t forgotten why they’re here.
And then he feels Shouta stiffen beneath him, watches his mouth fall open and his face crumple, his body writhing against the cuffs. “Fuck- ’Zashi- Hizashi-”
And Hizashi takes that as a cue to let his hand find his own cock, and it only takes a few strokes before he’s coming too, the room filled with his cries, his body shaking, Shouta falling limp beneath him, Hizashi’s eyes squeezed shut and his fingers and toes tingling, light-headed.
Hizashi gasps to catch his breath. He lets himself slump forward, leaning his head against Shouta’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. He’s slick with sweat. Hizashi tastes the salt on his tongue.
“That’s some exercise,” Hizashi pants.
Shouta huffs a laugh. “That was incredible.”
He sits up so he can look at Shouta. He pushes the hair out of his face once more, and plants a gentle kiss. His mouth is dry. Shouta sighs against his lips.
Hizashi smiles. “I know how to look after my man.”
Shouta sighs again. This time, it sounds different. The look in his eyes is gentle. Vulnerable.
“You do,” he says. “You really, really do.”
The smell of home-cooked dinner fills Shouta’s living dining area and their two plates are empty, two beer bottles polished off and a little candle flickering on the table. Music plays quietly, Netflix is ready and loaded, and the cat winds about Shouta’s ankles. Hizashi lays his feet on his boyfriend’s lap, both of them stretched out on the sofa. Hizashi is feeling mightily proud of himself.
Shouta leans back into the sofa, eyes half closed in contentment and hands resting on Hizashi’s shins. Hizashi wiggles his toes, the little pictures of Gudetama on his socks dancing as he moves them.
“This has gotta be the longest you’ve sat down and not slept or marked an essay in, like… months.”
Shouta hums. It seems he’s too lazy to even reply to that at first, but then he manages, “Sounds about right.”
“You do realise that you’re not allowed to do anything for the rest of the evening, now,” Hizashi warns him darkly.
Shouta smiles just a little. “You’ve convinced me. I’m not going anywhere.”
There’s a beat where Shouta considers what to say next. He sighs, almost imperceptibly, then looks at Hizashi. “I’m sorry for making you worry, ‘Zashi.”
For a long moment, neither one says anything. Hizashi takes Shouta’s hand and squeezes it. Shouta dips his head and looks up at him, like a guilty dog. It breaks Hizashi’s heart just a little, and it’s enough for him to take his cheek in his hand and stroke his thumb across the stubbled skin.
“Shh. I know baby, it’s fine. You’re always gonna worry me, always have done. Even when we were kids.”
Shouta looks away, brow furrowed. He leans into Hizashi’s hand. “I don’t like worrying you.”
Hizashi snorts. “Well, you haven’t got much choice! Of course what you do is gonna make me nervous sometimes. You’re a hero, and so am I. We have dangerous lives. Worrying about each other’s kinda part of the package, you know? At the moment, I’m just… I just want you to know that you don’t have to work every single waking minute. You have the rest of the staff to help. You have me.”
They’ve had this conversation before. It’s been a couple of months of similar chats, but now, Hizashi feels like he’s finally getting somewhere.
Shouta moves his face against his hand to kiss his wrist, and he feels his stubble against his skin. After fifteen years of platonic affection, this sort of thing still catches Hizashi off guard. His chest squirms and he bites his lip bashfully.
“Thank you,” Shouta says, his lips brushing against Hizashi’s palm and his eyes closed as he speaks. It’s a beautiful sight- and even after tonight’s escapades, it makes him feel a little hot under the collar. “Thank you for doing this, Hizashi.”
“It’s-” his voice comes out far too high, embarrassingly so. He tries again, just as Shouta looks up at him through his lashes. “It’s nothing. I’ve… I’ve missed you recently.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Shouta rests a hand on Hizashi’s arm, and looks at him when he speaks. The vulnerable expression tells Hizashi that he’s about to say something important. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. I… you know I just feel so responsible for them all. Even knowing that the others are helping. I feel like any time I spend not helping them is…”
Shouta shakes his head, not wanting to continue, or not knowing how. Hizashi drags his chair forward, and it makes an unpleasant but quiet scraping sound against the floor. “Hey. Hey- listen. I get it. You don’t need to apologise, I get it. I wouldn’t love you so much if you weren’t the stubborn, caring, idiot that I’ve always known you to be. Alright?”
Shouta smiles a little, meeting Hizashi’s eye. There’s perhaps still a little guilt in there. Then he blinks and it melts into something else. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Shou.”
Hizashi leans in and plants a small, fleeting kiss against his lips. He’s about to pull away, when Shouta holds him back. And what was originally meant to be quite chaste, becomes slow and longing. It seems that this evening has only served to kindle the fire, and there’s a hell of a lot more burning to do.
Shouta pulls away, and speaks in a low voice, smirk on his lips.
“Where do you keep those handcuffs?”