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Kaminari notices first. Izuku is at first annoyed, but then he is simply resigned; Kaminari seems to have a sixth sense about these kinds of things. He waits until he and Izuku are alone in the locker room at the gym. Izuku is stripping out of his sweaty clothes, about to go shower off after a very satisfying work out. His skin feels flushed and hot and he’s that wonderful, all consuming sort of exhausted that tells him he worked hard today.
He wraps his towel around his waist, slips his underwear off, and waves a wordless goodbye when Kacchan and Kirishima disappear around the corner toward the showers.
So Izuku and Kaminari are alone.
“Hey, Midoriya-kun,” Kaminari says, voice even and casual.
“Yuh-huh?”
“You were really going hard today, huh?”
Izuku shrugs one shoulder and finishes with his things. He closes his locker and swings around to meet Kaminari’s eyes. He’s sitting on the bench fully dressed and drinking from his water bottle. His cheeks are still pink but he looks mostly relaxed.
“I guess,” Izuku says with a cheery shrug. He smiles sheepishly. “Working off some extra energy.”
They’d all been talking about it earlier-- things on the hero scene had just been quiet lately. Ultimately they all know it’s because they’ve been doing a good job, that crime rates are down all over the city, but it still leaves an air of unease around some of them. Izuku and Kacchan in particular start itching for a good fight, start looking for trouble where there is none. It’s almost like they’re paranoid, like they’re convinced things are so quiet because someone is planning something.
The fact is, crime rates haven’t been this low since All Might retired; they should be proud, not anxious.
“About that,” Kaminari says slyly, taking a long drag on his water bottle and watching Izuku with a look Izuku has come to know is very dangerous.
He’s fairly sure Kaminari is about to start hitting on him, and he isn’t all that surprised when he says without any other build up, “So when was the last time someone took you to pound town?”
Izuku splutters and blushes a little and says weakly, “Kaminari-kun.”
Mostly he’s just annoyed that Kaminari seems to know whenever someone really needs to get laid. It’s a personal problem Izuku would rather deal with on his own. He’s been busy. He’s been out hero-ing. He hasn’t had time for relationships and sex and meeting new people-- and their friend group is incestuous enough as it is.
“Come on, you can tell me!” Kaminari insists. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Izuku tries a different tactic and says, “Why do you care? Do you really think you’re the best person to take me to pound town, Denki?”
Kaminari laughs. “No, not me. I just meant. Well. You know, if you wanna, I could maybe. Take you to this place I like to go to sometimes.”
“Pound town.”
“No,” Kaminari giggles. “So it has been a while.”
“Maybe,” Izuku admits begrudgingly. “I’ve been. Busy.”
Kaminari shakes his head. “I’ll never get why you’re so opposed to fucking your fans.”
Izuku wrinkles his nose. “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well,” Kaminari says, lowering his voice and leaning forward. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure.”
“No, I mean like, really. Like really really. You have to promise if I take you with me you won’t tell anyone we went. Not even--” Kaminari mouths ‘Bakugou,’ and now Izuku is legitimately intrigued.
“Okay, I promise.”
“So you’ll come with me then!”
“Wait-- come--”
“I’ll meet you at your place tonight at ten! Wear something really sexy!”
“Wait, where are we going--”
“Oh, it’s a club.”
“A club--”
“You know, for sex stuff.”
“A fetish club?” Izuku hisses. “Denki--”
“I can’t tell you more than that until you’ve gone,” Kaminari says, lifting his nose. “Trust me, it’ll be fun!”
“I…”
It’s true. It has been a while since Izuku had… gone to pound town.
And. Well.
He doesn’t really talk to his friends about it but the idea of a fetish club does sorta scratch some itches he’d been keeping to himself for a while.
“Fine,” he says, giving Kaminari a curt nod.
“Yay!” Kaminari jumps up off the bench and starts undressing for his shower. Izuku sighs and turns to leave.
“Uh. Define sexy,” he asks suddenly, pausing and turning back to Kaminari.
Kaminari looks him up and down and then says with a mock swoon, “Something that shows off those arms.”
Izuku frowns at him.
“Oh, fine, I’ll come over earlier and help.”
And with a sigh, Izuku agrees.
***
Kaminari decides that ‘something sexy’ is a pair of very well fitting black jeans and a black button up with several buttons left undone. He’d chosen the clothes from Izuku’s closet so Izuku feels mostly like himself, but the air hitting the exposed triangle of skin on his chest feels a little strange.
He has to sign about a million non-disclosure agreements before he walks in and show his hero license (which makes him a little uncomfortable). He’s given a list of rules to peruse (most of which are common sense, like not touching anyone without permission or always using protection when on the premises). There is an app he has to install on his phone that allows him to check in and also limits the function of his phone so he can only text, call, or use emergency numbers while he’s on the property. The app is very plain and mysterious and alerts the user that it’s intent is to eliminate all audio and video recording functions, and goes on to say that anyone found to be in breach of this rule is subject to-- a whole list of less than savory retaliations.
Izuku glances at Kaminari while he toggles through the warning screen and says, “Is this normal for this kinda thing?”
Kaminari waves him off and motions to the check in counter again. Izuku is also instructed to choose from a selection of black masks in clear cellophane, and he gives Kaminari a look when the person checking them in lays the options on the counter. Kaminari proceeds to take a mask of his own out of the bag he’s carrying and fit it into place. It’s the standard masquerade shape, made of leather and lace that seems to be detailed with lightning bolts.
Izuku frowns at the selection in front of him. They are varying levels of ornate with the simplest being plain black latex in the same shape Kaminari is wearing, and the most ornate covering the whole top half of the head-- that one also has cat ears.
Izuku almost reaches for the simplest one but at the last second the one beside it catches his eye. It’s that slightly angular shape that will only cover his eyes and tapers to points on either end, but it’s covered in black velvet with subtle little swirls in black glitter and lined around the edge with leather.
Izuku pays for it when prompted, and affixes it to his face. Next, they are both given name tags. Kaminari writes ‘Static’ on his, which makes Izuku stare with his brows furrowed.
“What should I put?”
Kaminari shrugs and says, “Just make sure it’s not your real name, or your hero name, and you won’t mind if people call you that.”
Izuku chews his lip in silence for a beat, mentally scolding Kaminari for not warning him he’d have to pick a handle. Something like this required thought! And planning!
But Kaminari is getting impatient, so Izuku carefully writes down ‘Kyu’, sticks his tag to his shirt, and follows Kaminari into the main room of the building.
He understands immediately why he’d been sworn to secrecy.
Despite the fact that everyone has at least the top of their faces covered (some people are wearing full on hoods) Izuku is instantly aware that he’s in a room full of heros. He can even recognize some people and the realization sends a strange little swooping through his belly.
For example, that is definitely Aizawa-sensei talking to Yamada-sensei by that person dancing in that cage.
And that person dancing in that cage is definitely Hawks.
“Kamina--” Izuku starts to whisper in shock. Kaminari makes sharp hissing sound, and Izuku amends, “Static.”
“What?”
“This-- this is--”
“A super duper secret club for kinky heros to hook up? Yeah.”
“Does Midnight run this place?” Izuku deadpans.
Kaminari shrugs. “I don’t know who runs it, I just come here to get laid and shock people.”
Izuku stares at him.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun! You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna--”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Come on, there’s someone I want you meet,” Kaminari says with a mischievous smile.
Izuku follows him. Kaminari has always had a way with these kinds of things, so maybe Izuku should just trust him.
He’s never actually been to a sex club before. Hero work makes that sort of thing hard to juggle and it had never seemed worth the risk of leaks and rumors. But he’s no stranger to the types of things that go on in fetish clubs. He doesn’t see much here that surprises him-- although he tries not to think too hard about the people behind the masks. Heroes deserve some kinky relaxation too; Izuku really isn’t surprised this place is here if he stops to consider.
Kaminari leads him around a little scene involving someone being gagged and publicly flogged, through a small crowd of mostly nude dancers, to a lavish sitting area.
There is a small group of people already there, and Izuku’s eyes fall immediately to one Shinsou Hitoshi speaking to someone Izuku doesn’t recognize.
Kaminari says brightly, “Hey, baby!”
Shinsou cuts off his conversation mid sentence and gives Kaminari a lazy smile-- at least Izuku assume’s he smiling based on the way his eyes crinkle. He’s wearing a stiff black mask over the whole lower half of his face, and a rectangle of lace with two angular cut outs over his eyes. There is a jagged edge along the top of the lower mask so it covers the bottom of the lace. The whole thing is rather dramatic and, Izuku is a little embarrassed to admit, absolutely working for him.
“I brought a friend,” Kaminari adds, thumbing toward Izuku. “This is Kyu.”
Izuku feels his cheeks get hot. The whole new name thing is sort of fucking with him. He can’t quite take himself seriously. But he gets the purpose behind it. Some of these people really do have identities to protect from each other. The masks and the names mean something to them.
Shinsou looks Izuku up and down, and Izuku can tell on the first sweep of his eyes that he’s not really seeing Izuku, or maybe even expecting to recognize him. When he does, he looks a touch shocked.
Izuku lifts his hand. “Hi.”
Shinsou seems to shrug with his emotions and says, “Hey.”
“Kyu,” Kaminari says pointedly, “This is Mindfuck.”
Izuku sighs very slowly through his nose and lowers his voice. “Do. Do I really have to call you that.”
“You don’t have to call me anything,” Shinsou says. He starts to look back to whoever he had been talking to when they arrived, but that person has been pulled away into another conversation, and Kaminari is motioning to the very tall, very muscular man standing just behind Shinsou. His back is turned to them, and he’s holding conversation with-- wow. About four very attractive people who seem to be hanging onto his every word.
Kaminari and Shinsou both look at his back and exchange glances, and then Shinsou taps him on the shoulder. “Hey, Dash, Static brought someone he wants you to meet.”
Dash turns around on a laugh and looks over his shoulder and Izuku nearly has a fucking heart attack.
Apparently Dash does too because his whole (relaxed, confident, incredibly sexy) posture shifts, and he whirls so hard he almost drops his drink.
It’s Iida.
It’s Iida.
Izuku’s mouth goes dry and he feels his cheeks go red and he smiles to hide the way his heart is suddenly beating so hard he wonders if they can see it.
“This is Kyu,” Shinsou says.
“Hello,” Iida manages after a short beat has passed.
“Hi.”
“Adorable,” Shinsou announces. And he and Kaminari very pointedly just walk away.
Iida seems to have forgotten the people he was talking to because he doesn’t turn back to look at them even though they all wait for him.
“You. Came with. Static?”
“Yeah. Yes,” Izuku answers. He fiddles with the bottom button of his shirt and wonders why he’d left it unbuttoned like an idiot. He probably looks so stupid, and Iida looks so good--
Wow. Iida looks. He looks really good. He’s wearing a simple silver mask, and leather pants. Since when did Iida Tenya even know what leather pants are? And he’d probably had a hair cut recently because his undercut is short and neat and his hair is all swept to the side and wow, really where did he get leather pants?
They stare at each other in silence for a very long moment until someone taps Iida on the back. He turns sharply and Izuku feels his heart fall, just knows Iida will use this excuse to end the conversation and Izuku will have to wander off to find Kaminari.
That’s how all their conversations seem to go lately. With Izuku finding himself totally tongue tied and-- well. Iida has always been Iida. He can be sort of obtuse about people flirting with him and Izuku is usually decent at flirting but he’s just been… off his game lately.
Iida looks to the group and says, “Excuse me.”
And then he turns back to Izuku and sticks out his hand like he’ll take Izuku by the arm. He catches himself at the last second, and his hand just sort of hovers near Izuku’s shoulder. He jerks his chin toward an empty leather loveseat, tucked back from the main action of it all, and says, “Wanna sit down?”
“Sure,” Izuku says with a smile. He lets Iida lead him there, and then he lets Iida flag down a server and order them both sparkling water and some food. Izuku doesn’t see any menus but he sees enough people sharing little plates. Iida must know what they have.
The moment the server is gone, Iida looks at Izuku out of the corner of his eye and Izuku sees him take a breath.
Izuku decides to save them both the awkward pause and says, “So Dash.”
Iida laughs.
“Did Static bring you here too?”
Iida chews his lip and then meets Izuku’s eye. “No. I. Invited him, actually.”
Izuku’s heart flutters at the eye contact, and that feeling is worse when he realizes what it is Iida is implying. Izuku had still been half convinced Iida just came here to-- what? Maybe keep someone else company? Compile a list of unsavory activities?
Izuku decides he might as well be honest. “Really? I. I’m surprised to see you here at all.”
Iida sits back a little against the chair. He’s so big, Izuku can feel the heat radiating off of him. Izuku had grown significantly since they were kids, but he’d never quite gotten taller or wider than Iida. He wonders sometimes if that’s part of the draw-- if he likes the idea of feeling small again.
“Really?” Iida says.
“I. Yeah. I mean…” Izuku lowers his voice and says, “Face it, Iida-kun, you’re not exactly the most open about--” Izuku jerks his head toward the crowd. “This sort of thing.”
Instead of looking flustered or annoyed or, hell, even sad, Iida looks--
Amused.
He looks.
Fuck, who gave him the right? He looks almost smug.
“There is a time and a place for all things,” Iida tells him. “I wouldn’t have guessed you would come to a place like this either.”
Izuku says without thinking, “Oh, sure, if I’d known about it, yeah, but I didn’t think heroes really got to go to fetish clubs, so I sorta--” He realizes what he is saying and swallows. “Keep. Keep. Certain things. To myself.”
“What kinda things?”
Izuku’s cheeks grow furiously hot and he considers hiding his face. When he’d thought-- hell, when he’d tried-- to come on to Iida before, there’d been no thought of fetishes and kinky sex involved. Izuku had assumed Iida would be very sweet and very gentlemanly and that they’d probably have to go on at least four dates before Izuku even got to think about seeing his cock.
Izuku shrugs one shoulder. “Why are you here?”
Iida bites his lip and peers between his own knees for a beat. Before he can answer, the server returns with their drinks, and a little cheese board with strawberries and sliced apples.
Iida sips his drink, glances sidelong at Izuku, and then says carefully, “I suppose I like how forward everyone here is. There’s a lot less guessing involved.”
That makes sense actually, assuming everyone here probably does a lot of negotiating before any encounters. The person at the front desk had given Izuku a sample contract with the list of rules, and given the whole concealed identity thing, having that sort of thing in writing seems. Important.
“For example,” Iida goes on, when Izuku shrugs an agreement and can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound stupid. “Through there,” Iida says, jerking his chin toward a doorway with no door and slightly brighter light spilling from it, “There’s white boards where you can write down what you’re looking for and connect with people who want the same things.” He pauses and his eyes flick over Izuku’s face. Izuku shifts a little; he’s never seen Iida like this. It’s like he’s… trying to pretend he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Like he’s trying to temper his own confidence and it’s strange. “If you. Wanted to do more than look around, that’s a good place to start.”
Izuku has no idea what he wants. He leans back against his seat and laughs, makes his disbelief apparent. Iida wordlessly tilts his drink toward Izuku with a small smile that says he understands.
“Is anybody here right now who’s not a hero?”
“The staff,” Iida says. “Otherwise you have to be in hero work of some sort just to get in. Not everyone is a hero though,” he clarifies. He nods his head to someone across the room, and Izuku follows his gaze toward a head of very pink dreadlocks. “Some of them are in support work.”
Izuku picks at the food Iida had ordered and after another quiet moment, Iida laughs. I “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet.”
Fuck.
“Are you nervous?”
Fuck fuck fuck
“Nervous?” Izuku scoffs. “Just sorta. Surprised, I guess. Kinda torn between trying to figure out who’s here and thinking maybe I don’t really want to know.”
Iida motions to the room and says, “Why don’t you look around a little? It’s fun,” he adds with a smile that makes Izuku’s belly do a really embarrassing little flip flop.
“Look around?”
Fuck, Izuku is blowing this. Every part of this. He’s in a damn fetish club with Iida Tenya right in front of him wearing leather fucking pants and he can’t think of anything to say. And since when was Iida of all people so cool?
Smart, brave, attractive, heroic to a fault-- yes, all of that. But fucking cool? Iida Tenya is not smooth. And he looks.
He looks really fucking smooth right now, sipping his water and lounging in his seat and giving Izuku a very friendly, amused look with a distressing lack of heat in it.
That’s probably the worst part. Izuku can tell when he’s being sort of politely offloaded.
But, hell, maybe it’s not a bad idea. Maybe if he gets a little distance he can collect himself. Come up with something semi charming to say.
“Sure, I could look around I guess.”
And that’s how Izuku finds himself wandering through the thin crowd alone, kicking himself for being so stupid.
He didn’t used to be like this. Talking to Iida used to be easy. Izuku can’t remember how it started exactly. He just looked at Iida one day and was struck by everything about him. He’s Iida, and Izuku has known him for years, but he’s so good in every way that matters.
Apparently, Izuku is not the only one who thinks so.
He wanders the club for about an hour, peeking in dark but public corners, exploring any open rooms. In one area, he finds a shop selling bondage gear and a wider selection of masks. The white boards Iida told him about are interesting-- there’s a place for a name, a brief physical description, and whatever the writer is interested in trying with an agreeable partner. People walk in and out, jotting down their info and then going back to dance.
Izuku even enjoys a few passing exchanges-- and the very strange thing is, they all seem to come back to Iida.
It turns out, Iida is very popular here. Once, when Izuku is making small talk with a pretty person in a black nightie, he can’t help but find Iida across the room. He always seems to be talking to someone, always seems to have someone who could be a model laughing at him and touching his arms.
Fuck, he has nice arms.
The person in the nightie laughs at him, and tells him they understand. Tells him Iida is a pretty sought after catch and Izuku is so shocked he stares at them with his mouth slightly open.
But he also spots an opportunity and he asks, “What sort of partners does he like?”
The person shrugs and says a little coyly, “He’s not hard to please. For people who know how to listen.”
Izuku’s grip around his drink tightens a little.
“But,” they go on, “that’s assuming you can catch his attention in the first place. He’s got a lot of admirers.”
Izuku can tell.
“I’ve heard he’s got a mean streak too,” they add, staring after Iida just like Izuku is. “Well, the phrase used was ‘sadistic bastard.’”
He takes this knowledge-- that Iida likes people who can do what they’re told, likes to hurt people-- with him as he moves around the room. After a little while he starts to feel more comfortable, less embarrassed about being seen, or seeing. He watches some interactions with only passing interest; at one point he lingers near an impact play scene for what is probably too long to not be incredibly obvious. He only turns away when he feels his neck prickle like someone is watching him, but when he looks around, Kaminari and Shinsou are kissing each other (Shinsou’s lower mask is around his neck), and Iida is talking to yet another person he probably finds much more attractive than Izuku.
He considers drinking-- everyone here who is consuming alcohol has a red paper bracelet on, indicating they won’t be playing tonight. He thinks that might take some of the edge off, but at the same time it feels like giving up.
And that thought is what sends him marching over to Iida with a determined stride and a very resounding, Fuck it, playing through his head.
Iida is, of course, talking to a small group of people. Izuku spares them one quick glance-- there’s a Dom with their gagged sub on a leash, and a third person with very incredible breasts that are fully barred to the room who never takes their eyes off Iida.
Izuku almost hesitates, but-- fuck it.
He taps Iida on the shoulder.
Iida looks around, and when he sees Izuku is the one who interrupted him he looks almost surprised.
The two people Iida was talking to (the sub has their eyes on the floor) look at Izuku in a way that makes Izuku’s neck prickle, and he almost wonders if he’s committed some faux pas by interrupting but then Iida smiles at him and says, “Yes?”
“Do you have a minute? I want to talk to you.”
The person holding the leash raises their brows and makes an amused face at their mostly-naked friend. Izuku feels his cheeks start to burn, but then Iida says easily, “I always have time for you.”
And damn if Izuku can’t help but shoot a very smug look at Iida’s conversation partners as Iida takes his arm and leads him to a quieter spot on the wall.
“Are you okay?” Iida asks right away. “What’s up?”
Fuck.
This was. Easier in his head. Iida thinks he needs… help or something, something friendly, and Izuku really should have thought about what he was going to say until he realizes, actually he does need-- “You’re pretty popular here, aren’t you?”
Iida shrugs one shoulder. “Sure.” And then he prods, “You’ve. Been asking about me?”
Izuku’s heart hammers twice against the inside of his chest when he says, “Sure.”
Iida blinks at him. Izuku watches him swallow. “What did you want to know?”
And Izuku doesn’t think about it all when he blurts, “If you could help me.”
“Help-- help you with what?” This is apparently not the right thing to say because Iida’s voice has changed again, gotten a little less low and slithery and a little more like he usually sounds.
“I heard you like people who know how to listen.”
Iida goes very still.
Izuku’s mouth feels too dry when he says, “I’m a very good listener.”
Iida is silent for so long, Izuku is sure he’s made an absolute fool of himself. His cheeks burn and his chest flushes, and his heartbeat is so erratic it’s making him feel short of breath.
Iida says slowly, “And how would I help you.”
Izuku’s whispers too quickly, “Hurt me.”
Iida’s gaze on his face almost burns. But he doesn’t say anything. He just waits.
“No one ever does it right.”
“What do you mean?” Iida says immediately.
“I’ve tried-- with some other partners, spanking--” Izuku’s breath catches when he realizes what he’s saying, who he’s saying it to, and he has to swallow thickly before he can go on. “--Spanking, or, quirk play once or twice, but they never want to…”
He trails off, can’t think how to go on, but Iida does it for him.
“Give you what you need?”
Izuku finds himself totally speechless, shocked at the smooth, even way Iida had said that. He nods.
Iida holds his gaze, and Izuku can feel his heart in his throat. He reaches out, brushes Izuku’s chin with his fingertips and Izuku can’t stop the shiver that runs through him. He tries to exhale slowly, doesn’t want Iida to see how breathless he feels.
Iida leans in, but it’s only so he can whisper and still be heard over all the noise. “Are you sure?”
Izuku nods.
He can’t read Iida’s expression, but he stares at Izuku for a long, horribly silent beat before he says, “Okay.”
He steps closer, threads his fingers into Izuku’s hair and Izuku swears he feels his fucking knees go weak.
“What else do you want.”
“Want.”
“Aside from--”
“I don’t know,” Izuku admits. It’s all sort of nebulous, undefined. He just wants to be… controlled, but as far as how?
Iida looks him over in silence again and then slips his hand to the back of Izuku’s neck. “Come on.”
He leaves his hand there, directs Izuku through the crowd and back to the private rooms and the way he’s squeezing Izuku’s neck makes Izuku sort of… dizzy. He only deviates from his route long enough to retrieve a cloth duffel bag from the seating area-- which he thrusts into Izuku’s arms-- and then he’s directing Izuku to a quiet, dimly lit room with a bed, some rather terrifying furniture, and metal loops in the walls, ceiling, and floor.
Iida directs him to stand in the middle of the room, and takes his bag from Izuku’s hands. He sets it down at their feet and then says, “It’s quieter in here.”
Izuku nods. It is much quieter here, and also not as dark, which is worse somehow. Iida looks more like Iida without the shadows on his face and at the same time the ways he is being very different are even more pronounced.
“Would you like it if I tied you up?”
God-- “Yes.”
“Would you like it if I called you names?”
“Like… like what?”
There must be something amusing in that answer because Iida smiles in a way that Izuku finds indescribably attractive and says, “Whore, slut, filthy, desperate, needy--”
“Yes.”
Iida’s smile grows almost imperceptibly, and he says, “What kind of pain do you like?”
“All of it.”
“Be more specific.”
“I can’t,” Izuku says. “I don’t care what, I--”
“You said you tried spanking before?”
“Yeah.”
“With what? A hand?”
Izuku nods. Iida stares at him for another beat and then drops to his knees and opens his bag.
He takes four things from it, and lays them on the ground at Izuku’s feet.
The first is a riding crop. The second is a leather paddle. The third is a metal studded belt. And the fourth is a thick wooden paddle with holes drilled in it.
“Tell me which one you think you’d like the most and which one you think you’d like the least.”
It becomes apparent to Izuku in this exact moment, with Iida fucking Tenya crossing his arms over his chest and looking Izuku up and down, that Izuku is very obviously rock hard. It’s uncomfortable, makes his pants pull too tight, and it also brings a wave of embarrassment washing over him, makes him wanna squirm.
He points to the riding crop and says, “Least, and… between the belt and the wooden paddle-- I don’t know which. Um. Most.”
“Is there anywhere I shouldn’t hit you?”
Izuku shakes his head. “But um. Don’t leave marks on my face, please.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Good. Yes.”
Iida’s voice stays even when he speaks again, but Izuku thinks he can detect just a hint of… excitement. “Do you only want-- this--” He motions to the various instruments at his feet. “Or do you want to. Have sex too?”
Izuku nods sharply, is starting to feel a strange rushing in his ears.
“Out loud, Kyu.”
“Yes.”
“If I ask you a question, you answer out loud. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you comfortable with the club safe-words?”
“Yes, sir.” It’s the basic traffic light system-- red, yellow, green. Izuku has never actually used a safe-word for real before, but he’s done enough research to know what it all means, and how they work.
Iida smiles at Izuku’s quick answer, and probably at the ‘sir’ part too. Izuku had told him he was good listener. “Good. Stay there while I write this down.”
“Do we have to do that?” Izuku asks. He doesn’t want to wait. And he knows Iida, it seems sort of strange to write down everything Izuku had just told him.
“Yes. It’s a club rule, and I prefer it anyway.”
There’s a tiny little end table with a drawer and Iida walks to it, pulls out a folder with some paper, and bends over to write.
“Do you-- are you gonna call me Kyu?” Izuku asks.
“Is there something else you’d rather be called?” Iida says, lifting his head.
“You can say my name,” Izuku suggests.
Iida studies him in silence for a beat, and then says, “I’d rather not, when we’re here. Sometimes sound carries through the doors. Is that alright with you?”
Izuku licks his lips, and says, “Yes, sir.” And then, “Should I call you ‘Dash’ then, I guess?”
“You should call me Sir.”
Oh.
Well.
“Kyu.’
“Yes, sir,” Izuku says a little more quietly then he means.
He lets Iida finish his writing, and tries to catch a glimpse of what else is in Iida’s bag. But Iida makes fast work of things, and he brings Izuku the paper and the whole folder to bear down on.
It’s strange seeing it written out like this. It has Izuku’s fake name, and Iida’s; Iida wrote down everything Izuku had said he wanted, along with Izuku’s request that Iida leave no marks on his face. There is an additional requirement listed for Iida, which is that Izuku agrees to stay here with Iida until Iida ‘dismisses him.’
“What’s this mean,” Izuku demands, pointing at it. Something in the phrasing makes Izuku’s heart race, makes him feel almost trapped in a way that the idea of being tied up just doesn’t.
Iida’s voice is softer than normal when he says, “It means you don’t get to rush out of here before I’m sure I’ve provided a suitable amount of aftercare.”
When Izuku just stares at him, he shrugs and says, “Some people don’t need as much as others, and I’ve had a few subs leave before I was ready.”
That seems reasonable to Izuku, so he signs a big ‘K’ in the proper spot and hands the whole thing back to Iida.
Iida drops it back on the table, and says, “Get undressed.”
Izuku’s hands shake on the buttons of his shirt; he lets it fall to the floor behind him, toes off his shoes and socks, and only hesitates for a second before he shoves his jeans and underwear off too. When he lifts his head, Iida is staring at him, expression inscrutable behind his mask.
Izuku swallows against the discomfort, the embarrassment of standing naked in front of a man who is fully clothed and can’t resist the urge to cover his cock with his hands. He’s fully hard, and not exactly a small man by any metric so that’s a lot harder than Izuku wishes it were.
Iida looks him up and down, and smiles.
And because of the placement of his hands, Izuku can actually feel his own dick throb.
“I want you to kneel facing that wall, with your knees right here,” Iida says, tapping a spot on the floor with the toe of his shoe. He indicates an area right in front of a large metal loop set into the concrete. “Do you want a mat to kneel on?”
Izuku does as he’s told, goes to kneel, and when his knees hit the cold floor, he says, “Yes, sir.”
“Say ‘please,’ Kyu, I don’t have to offer you that kindness.”
“Yes, please, sir,” he says obediently, and realizes he feels strange. He feels like his hands are tingling, and he’s wracked with embarrassment, but he also can’t remember ever being this turned on in his life.
Iida pets one hand through Izuku’s hair in a fond, absent minded gesture that should not make Izuku as breathless as it does. Iida had just touched his hair. Why does he feel like he’d do anything to feel that again?
There’s a closet set into one wall, and Iida takes two rolled black mats from it-- they look like yoga mats, and he unrolls one in front of the ring, and one behind. Izuku has to move out of the way while Iida arranges them, but he goes back without being told as soon as Iida is through.
Izuku’s heart begins to race when Iida retrieves a length of rope from his bag, and a handful of velcro straps. He comes to kneel in front of Izuku, a smug smile on his face that makes Izuku want to swoon into him like a distressed damsel in some terrible old movie.
“Hold your hands in front of your chest, palms together,” Iida instructs. Izuku does, and Iida starts to weave and tie his rope. “Will it bother you if I loop this around your neck?”
Izuku hesitates, and Iida says, “You’ll be able to duck in and out of it, if you need to. Can I show you? If you don’t like it, we can do it some other way.”
Izuku nods, tries to wet his dry mouth.
“Kyu.”
“Yes, sir,” he amends.
It’s nice when Iida leans forward and loops the rope over his head. He leaves it lose, just hooks it several times around the back of Izuku’s neck and anchors it around his wrists so he can’t lower his hands, but he has no way to pull the rope tighter.
“Is that alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Izuku’s voice comes out on a sigh. The rope feels nice. It’s scratchy, but soft, and Iida used it to make a thick, comfortable cuff around Izuku’s wrists. If he raises his hands, he can probably slip the loops over his head and off his neck.
Iida says, “Good.” He tugs his bag closer to him, and moves things around, when he withdraws his hand, he holds up what he’s found for Izuku to see. “Would you like to wear these?”
Izuku recognizes them as nipple clamps-- weighted ones. Izuku has never worn nipple clamps before, but the idea has him nodding hard, eyes squeezed shut at the thought and Iida slaps him.
It’s a firm, strong slap that makes Izuku turn his cheek on a gasp, heat and arousal racing in a line from his cheek to his cock, and for a moment, his brain is such a hazy jumble of shock and sudden violent desperation that he can think of absolutely nothing.
And so it takes him some time to say finally, “Yes, sir.”
His voice comes out a dry, shaky whisper, but the moment he’s finished speaking, Iida grabs him by the chin and jerks Izuku around to face him.
“When I ask you a question, you speak. Do not forget again.”
“Yes, sir.” Izuku nods as he speaks, and he has to fight to swallow down the hysterical giggle he feels in his throat. He can’t think in straight lines. He’s giddy in so many different ways-- Iida, it’s Iida, and Iida’s going to give me what I need, he’d needed for so long.
“Would you like to wear these?”
“Yes, sir, very much.” Very, very much.
“Have you ever used nipple clamps before?” Iida asks as he untangles the clamps from each other, and reaches forward.
“No, sir.”
As Izuku speaks, Iida clips the first one into place, and Izuku is too startled to stop a soft, breathy moan. Iida pinches the second into place, his hands so hot on Izuku’s skin, and Izuku grits, “Fuck,” from between clenched teeth.
“Do they hurt?”
“No-no, sir.” Izuku’s breathing hard already, feels like he might be sweating even.
Iida hums a quiet noise, and then reaches forward and adjusts something on the first clamp. It ratchets tighter, and Izuku winces, hands clenched tight against the rope. Iida does the same thing to the other and asks again, “Do they hurt?”
“No, sir.”
Iida hums again, and reaches forward to tighten them a third time, and Izuku understands now.
This time when Iida sits back and says, “Do they hurt?” Izuku huffs out, “Yes, sir.”
Iida flicks one of them, makes the weight jingle, and Izuku yells. “Are your nipples sensitive?”
“Yes, s--” Iida flicks the second one, and Izuku chokes on his answer.
“Tell me if you need these removed.”
“Y-yes-yes, sir.”
IIda smiles at him and it’s so unexpected and so beautiful, Izuku feels it in his chest. He leans forward and kisses Izuku on the mouth, soft, and slow, and Izuku is suddenly relieving a thousand day dreams and fantasies. He’d never have guessed his first kiss with Iida would look anything like it actually does. The contrast makes him feel a little bit like he’s losing his mind.
“Very good,” Iida whispers against Izuku’s lips before he pulls away, leaves Izuku trailing after him. “Now, lean forward, and put your head on the matt. You should be able to support yourself on your forearms.”
He moves aside as he speaks, and Izuku does as asked. The moment he tilts forward, the weights on the nipple clamps shift and swing, and Izuku whimpers quietly as he brings his forehead to the floor. The clamps have only been on for a second, but they already hurt more than they had when Iida had finished tightening them.
It is a very compromising position. His ass is in the air and he can’t lower back onto his heels because of the ring he’s leaning over. Iida moves to the side, and secures the rope around Izuku’s hands to the ring, and Izuku realizes in a flair of panic and arousal that he won’t be able to sit back up.
Iida works quickly and quietly after that. He uses a series of velcro straps and more lengths of rope to lash Izuku’s elbows to his knees, and secures the whole thing to the ring and by the end of it, Izuku can’t move at all. It’s a stable position; he doesn’t feel like he’ll fall over, and in fact, when he tests how much wiggle room he has, he finds the way Iida has secured each tie to the ring and wrapped the rope around Izuku’s waist would actually prevent him from falling over unless he really struggled.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, sir.” ‘Comfortable’ isn’t exactly the right word. The way his knees are spread just so means Izuku’s cock and balls and asshole feel incredibly exposed right now. But there’s no real physical discomfort in the position.
“Good,” Iida announces, rubbing his hand over Izuku’s lower back. Izuku hears him move, start rifling through his bag now. When he returns to sit behind Izuku, he spends a few more minutes arranging things that Izuku tries to see through the gap between his own legs. But he can’t catch sight of anything.
“How do you feel?”
The question catches Izuku off guard, and comes with warm hands gripping his hips.
“Good, I feel. Good. Sir,” he adds after a short breath.
“Clamps don’t hurt to much bent over like that?”
“I-- yes-- not, too much though, it’s. Good, sir.”
“Good?”
“Yes, yes, sir.”
“You like it?”
“Y--”
“Say it.”
Izuku feels another little thread of his sanity come loose when he answers back, “I like it, sir.”
“Good.”
His hands come off Izuku’s hips, and Izuku can’t help the way he’s panting for breath when he hears Iida pick something up from the floor.
Iida doesn’t make him wait long. There is the sound of Iida adjusting slightly on the mat, and then the rushing of air before a loud, heavy slap breaks the near silence.
Izuku yells and then he really does laugh because that hadn’t been the timid, careful slaps he’d gotten from past partners. That had been a hard hit, had landed across both cheeks and had lit Izuku’s whole ass up, just on the first swing.
He isn’t sure what Iida had used, but he doesn’t have long to think on it, because the second slap obliterates his train of thought so thoroughly, he can’t stop himself from gasping, “Oh, fuck, yes.”
He can’t move. There’s no where to go, no where for him to squirm away to. He has to hold himself perfectly still. Iida hits him again, and the weighted clamps swing underneath of him.
It’s the belt-- he’s using the studded belt.
“On a scale of one to five, how much did that hurt?”
Izuku is an absolute fool because he says too quickly, and with a hint of laughter in his voice, “One.”
Iida huffs, and the next slap of the belt against Izuku’s skin makes him see white.
He does it three more times, before Izuku’s vision can stop flickering and by the time he’s through, Izuku doesn’t want to laugh at him anymore.
“And that?” Iida demands, voice colder than it has been.
Izuku is trembling when he answers honestly. “I can’t-- I don’t know--”
“You don’t know?”
It takes a second to collect himself, but when he does, he says all in a rush, “It’s hard to compare.”
Iida is silent for long enough that Izuku starts trying to turn his head to look for him. He stills Izuku with a hand on his back, and then says, “If I hit you harder than you enjoy, tell me immediately, can you do that? You can say ‘yellow.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“I mean immediately. It doesn’t mean I won’t ever hit you that hard again, it just means I’ll know where your limit is.”
That… that sounds good. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
The next series of slaps is harder, more ruthless, and Iida doesn’t pause between each one. He keeps a steady rhythm, only changes where each hit lands, and for a while Izuku keeps track in his head.
He loses count after the tenth and feels another little shred of sanity trickle away from him. He’s being loud now, louder with every strike, and sometimes he yelps in pain and others he moans at the desperate arousal racing through his whole body.
It hurts and the relief he feels at that confuses him. It’s everything he wanted, hell, it’s better than he wanted, and just-- so confusing.
And it’s getting so much worse. His whole ass is throbbing now and the metal studs send a sharp, cold pain pinging up his spine. Each hit heightens the sensation, makes it echo the mind numbing tingling in his nipples.
Iida hits him again, puts more weight behind it, and Izuku makes a new sound that very closely resembles a sob.
Iida says conversationally, “The bruises you’re going to have tomorrow.” Izuku answers that with a full-throated moan, and Iida says, “I can already see some here--” He swings the belt hard and hits a spot that makes Izuku’s toes curl and his back bow. “And here.”
Izuku has never in his life made a sound even remotely like the one that comes out of his mouth.
“You liked that, didn’t you, Kyu?”
Izuku can’t catch his breath, nods his head and manages a weak, “Uh huh,” before Iida hits the same spot from before and it takes Izuku’s breath away.
And then he drops to his knees at Izuku’s side. Izuku starts to turn his head, but he can’t even complete the movement before Iida is wrenching back on his hair with one hand, and shoving his fingers into Izuku’s mouth. He’s rough, and jerky, pries Izuku’s jaw open and holds him there.
“What did I tell you about answering me when I speak to you? If I wanted uh huhs,” he drawls in a viciously mocking voice that makes Izuku’s skin crawl with shame, “I’d have gagged you.”
Izuku blinks at him, head twisted at an odd angle, and can’t think of what to do with Iida’s fingers in his mouth.
Iida twists the hand in Izuku’s hair and says, “Last warning.”
Disbelief and humiliation makes him hesitate, but only for a second, and he slurs out, “Sorry, sir,” as best he can.
“I’ve already told you I won’t tell you this again,” he says quietly. “I’m not usually so forgiving.”
“Thank you,” Izuku tries this time. Iida meets his eye, which does something very strange to Izuku. He hasn’t been able to see Iida until now, and the sight of him-- he looks so angry and he’s looming over Izuku with one hand tight in Izuku’s hair. He pulls his fingers away slowly, and the moment Izuku can speak freely, he says breathlessly, “Thank you for-- for being so kind to me, sir, thank you, I’m sorry, I won’t-- I won’t forget again.”
He’s still wearing all his clothes. Why is he still wearing all his clothes?
He seems satisfied with Izuku’s answer at least, and he pats Izuku’s head with the hand he’d been using to pull his hair. It’s a brief, almost casual touch, but it’s soft and Izuku isn’t expecting it and he whimpers very quietly, eyes fluttering shut. He has to fight not to collapse around the ring under his waist.
Iida bends down, and whispers directly into Izuku’s ear when he asks, “How do you feel?”
Izuku doesn’t really feel like Izuku anymore. He’d known he wanted to hurt like this, had known he’d like it even if he’d never tried it exactly like this before. He is used to pain, familiar with it at every level and there is something incredibly addictive about letting someone do this to him, about choosing it for himself.
“I’m go-- very good, sir. Please don’t stop.”
“Would you like me to try the wooden paddle now?”
“Fu-- yes, yes, please.”
“How are your clamps?”
“Hurt.”
Iida reaches under Izuku’s chest and pulls one, makes him howl with the sharp, jagged pain that ratchets through his chest.
“Too much?”
“No.”
So of course, Iida pulls on the other one, makes Izuku scream some more, makes him arch his back to try to lessen the tension.
“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, my, my god--”
“Is this what you wanted?”
“God, yes, yes, sir. Yes, sir.”
“So desperate for pain, aren’t you, sweet heart.”
God, sweetheart? What the fuck--
“Yes,” Izuku chokes out a split second before it’s too late. “Sir.”
“Let’s see how you like this, then,” Iida hums. He moves away, makes Izuku feel crazy with want now that his hands are gone. He doesn’t make Izuku wait before he tests the wooden paddle against the most rounded part of Izuku’s ass.
Izuku can’t even scream.
A rough, harsh breath is forced from his lungs, like Iida had kicked him between the ribs, and that’s the only sound he can make. The second strike is harder, reverberates thick and heavy up Izuku’s spine and against it Izuku is mute, vision flickering at the edges. The third makes him gasp, “Please--”
“I didn’t tell you you could beg.” He swings the paddle a fourth time, and Izuku’s ears ring.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, “Sir, it--” Iida slams his ass with the paddle and Izuku yells, “hurts.”
“Oh, it does?” Iida hums.
“Yes, sir-- I-- fuck.” Iida is unrelenting. He sets a slower pace, but Izuku has the rhythm of it now, knows that no matter what he says the next strike will come when it comes and there’s nothing he can do to speed it up or slow it down or make it stop.
His whole body burns and tingles, and as much as his ass throbs, his head is buzzing with a dizzying euphoria that makes it hard to concentrate and harder to speak. He doesn’t know how his ass and tits can hurt so much and the rest of him feel so good.
But it’s getting to be torturous in the seconds before and after each strike and after one that lands heavier than the others, Izuku can’t help but gasp, “Fuck, pl--” before he grits his teeth and stops himself.
“What was that?”
He grinds his teeth and then says, “N-nothing, sir. Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Iida sighs, and says, “You may beg if you must.”
On the next slap, Izuku moans, “Please, stop, sir,” and hates that it doesn’t sound like he wants Iida to stop at all. Maybe he doesn’t. He can’t tell anymore. “Please, please, please, please--” He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying, or why, but he knows Iida is keeping that same tortuously slow but relentless rhythm and he’s not paying attention to anything Izuku says.
Izuku has broken before. In small moments, when he’d been learning how to control his quirk, when pain had been nothing but a daily reality and a decision he had to make whenever the situation called for it. He usually put himself back together again quickly, rallied, as it were.
So he knows what it feels like to break and fall apart.
And he also knows it has never happened so slowly, or been so welcome as it is in this moment. Iida doesn’t change pace. The paddle falls in a steady, even beat, and Izuku’s body pulses in rhythm, and each pulse is stronger than the last until all he can do with each stroke is moan.
He is aware of nothing but this. He is concerned with nothing but this. And when a second or an hour or an eon has passed, Iida says, “I’ve never seen such a needy little painslut. You won’t be able to move tomorrow without feeling me, will you, sweetheart?”
“No, sir.” There is no hesitation. He knows what Iida wants.
“Pretty little cock still so hard. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you come if I told you to?”
Izuku doesn’t know what he’s saying when he answers, “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kyu. Now, I’ll ask you again, would you come if I told you to?”
“Yes, sir--”
“Then come.” He accompanies his command with one more sharp, heavy slap.
Somehow, Izuku is still shocked that that’s all it takes.
It is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s stronger, washes over him in waves, tears through him and mingles with all his pain so he’s not sure which sensations are good and which are bad anymore. But it’s also-- there’s something cruel and torturous about it and Izuku realizes it’s because he wants Iida to touch him, to fuck him, and all Iida wants to do is hurt him, and by the time it ends, he is sobbing into his hands. He feels like every nerve he has is firing at once and he can’t breathe and he can’t think.
Iida doesn’t touch Izuku. He doesn’t hit him again. He sits beside him in silence, and when Izuku is whimpering and sniffling into his hands, Iida asks, smugly, “Was that good? Did you like it?”
Izuku doesn’t quite know how to answer that, so instead he says, “Thank you, sir.”
He hears the paddle hit the ground, hears Iida unzip his pants.
“Oh, oh, god, please, sir, please, fuck me, please, please, pl--” Iida slaps him with his hand, and Izuku screams again.
“That’s enough. I’m tired of your pathetic begging. You may thank me, or you may keep your mouth shut. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He keeps up a litany of thank yous simply because he needs to say something. And by the time Iida has drenched his asshole with lube and is dragging his thick cock up and down between Izuku’s asscheeks, Izuku is crying again, shameless and desperate and proud of it.
Iida’s breath catches when he eases the head of his cock against Izuku’s hole, but Izuku is so turned on, still so hard, and so eager to please, that Iida just--sinks in all slow and luxurious and compared to how much pain he’d inflicted, this is bliss. He fucks Izuku slow and gentle, and Izuku thanks him again, and again, and again as he threads his fingers into Izuku’s hair and pulls.
“Do you want to come again, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir, yes-- please-- sorry--” he blurts when he feels Iida draw his hand back. “Sorry, sorry, yes, I would, thank you.”
Iida shifts on his knees, draws the hand that was in Izuku’s hair down Izuku’s spine and the gentle touch makes Izuku feel like he’s going to crack right down the middle.
Iida grabs Izuku by the hips, fucks him harder, shifts until he hears Izuku yell and then hits that spot over and over again.
Every thrust makes the nipple clamps swing and they’re almost unbearable now-- they are unbearable, and Izuku doesn’t know how he can stand them, but something about the ebb and flow of it all, the way the weighted clamps tug and then Iida pounds into that spot, keeps Izuku swimming in euphoria.
Iida’s voice is breathless when he says, “Do you need me to tell you again?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come for me, sweetheart. Lemme feel you come.”
It’s harder this time, feels like Izuku has to fight for it, but when it comes, it’s strong, obliterates the voice in his head and turns all that throbbing hurt into ecstasy.
“Fuck, that was beautiful,” Iida breathes and his voice sends another shockwave racing over Izuku’s skin. “I’m close, sweetheart. One more, before I come, can you do that for me?”
“Yes, yes, sir--” Izuku gasps.
“Be honest with me,” Iida chides. “Can you do it?”
“I-- I think so, I want-- yes--”
Iida slows his, pace, and shifts so he’s leaning down over Izuku’s back, and Izuku goes stone still when he feels Iida’s fingertips curl around one of the weights on the clamps.
He lays a soft kiss right in the center of Izuku’s back. And then he pulls the clamp off.
A furious wave of hurt charges through Izuku’s chest, and he’s too tired to scream. Iida leans back at once, fucks him hard through the worst of it, and Izuku thinks he has fully and completely lost his mind.
“Fuck I felt that,” Iida hisses. “Felt you squeeze my cock, I’m so close sweetheart, do it again for me.”
Without thinking, Izuku twists his hands hard, pulls on the rope enough to reach the last weight and tears it off.
Iida gasps out, “Oh, good boy,” and the feel of his cock pulsing inside when he comes is enough to send Izuku over the edge, one final time. Iida reaches down with one hand and strokes him through it, touches his cock for the very first time, and makes him sob through the short, full bodied spasms.
It’s shorter, weaker, but it still leaves him empty headed.
Everything feels very, very still when it’s over.
Izuku doesn’t move. He breathes in short, shallow bursts, and has to blink the stars out his eyes. It takes minutes before he thinks he might be safe to move, or speak, and when he shifts minutely, Iida shushes him.
“Lay still,” he says gently. Izuku tries to thank him, and only manages a wordless groan as Iida carefully eases away.
“Can you stay like that a little longer?” Iida asks. He’s being very soft, whispering sweetly. He starts pulling off all the velcro straps.
“Think--” Izuku tries. His tongue feels too thick. “Think so.”
“How are your knees and elbows?”
“‘S fine. ‘S my-- joints.”
Iida is on to the rope now, making quick work of unwinding it all. “Hold on, just a minute more.”
He moves away, and when he comes back, it’s to lay pillows on the ground by Izuku’s side, and he very carefully directs Izuku to roll over on top of them. It’s a little awkward, but being able to uncurl his arms and legs is a special kind of bliss.
Iida sticks a third pillow under his head. “Comfortable?”
“Mm-- yes, sir.”
“Good, sweetheart, just relax.”
Izuku nods his head, and makes a sharp sound of distress when Iida moves away from him, but it’s only to pull his bag closer.
He reaches inside, and pulls out a fresh ice pack, which he cracks and wraps in a hand towel, a sports drink with a pull top, and a bar of very fancy chocolate.
Izuku starts to laugh, which Iida doesn’t comment on. He just runs his hand through Izuku’s hair and very gently lays the ice pack against Izuku’s skin. That kills the laughter, makes Izuku hiss and arch away from him.
“Okay?”
“Think so,” Izuku mumbles. It is at this point that he realizes he is in fact ravenously thirsty and he drains half of Iida’s drink without doing much more than lifting his head.
When he is through, Iida says, “Do you think you can move to the bed?”
It’s more difficult than Izuku expects it to be. His arms and legs are disconcertingly weak, and he feels dizzy when he sits up.
But Iida leads him along, gently directs him, and gets him to lie on his back with the ice pack under his ass. It stings badly until the chill gets to him. Once Izuku is in bed, Iida takes a second to dispose of the condom he’d left tied off on the floor, and to toss his lube and paddles back in his bag.
Then he strips off his shirt and climbs into bed too, pulls Izuku’s head into his lap.
Izuku is aware of very little, for what feels like a long time. There is Iida’s hands in his hair, and the occasional bite of chocolate Iida feeds him from his fingers, and there is the deep, stinging and throbbing pain in his chest and ass, and that is all.
“What else you got in that bag?” is the first coherent thought Izuku has and he’s speaking it before he realizes his tongue works again.
Iida laughs. “Safety scissors, a couple insertable toys, handcuffs… I think that’s it. First aid kit. How’s that ass feel?”
Izuku answers by reaching up and pulling Iida down into a kiss. Iida returns it on a sigh that strikes Izuku as almost relieved.
“Go out with me.”
“What?” Iida says, pulling back.
“Coffee,” Izuku says. “Dinner. Go out with me.”
Iida chews his lip, looks more like the Iida Izuku has been fantasizing about for months than he has all night. “Ask me another time.”
“What? Why?”
“Another time,” Iida insists, petting over Izuku’s hair. “When we haven’t just…” He motions to the room-- to the rope tangled over the floor and the wet spot where Izuku had come three fucking times.
“Fine,” Izuku agrees, though he doesn’t particularly like it.
They lay like that a while longer, finish their chocolate bar, and their sports drink. Iida insists Izuku let him rub some kind of tingly cream on his ass before he’ll let Izuku put his pants back on. Izuku doesn’t know if it helps really, but it feels nice.
They clean up the room, leave it looking exactly as it had when they arrived. Iida reveals that the closet with the mats also has antibacterial wipes, and a small stock pile of lube and condoms, but they’re in a different package than the one Iida had used.
When they walk back out in the main room, Iida has his arm locked around Izuku’s waist, and Izuku must still be floating a little because he stays like that. He leans into Iida and lets himself be led around, and when Iida stops to talk to someone who flags him down, Izuku puts his head on Iida’s shoulder and closes his eyes and can’t be embarrassed about it. He knows he’s doing something right because, Iida holds him closer, and kisses him once on the forehead and mutters, “Good boy, Kyu.”
Izuku decides he likes being Kyu after all.
Two familiar voices, make Izuku open his eyes.
Kaminari and Shinsou have sidled up beside them, and Kaminari cuts across whatever conversation Iida had been having with a bright, loud, “Look who’s back!”
Iida rolls his eyes, and sighs before he looks Shinsou dead in the eyes and says, “Control him, please.”
Shinsou sniffs. Kaminari pouts, and says, “You could be nicer to me, you know.” He lays his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m the one who brought him--” As he speaks, he runs his hand down Izuku’s back, and squeezes Izuku’s left asscheek. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, when he is being particularly Kaminari-ish, but usually Izuku is fast enough to jump away.
He is not, and in fact, the touch lights his whole back up; he gasps hard and jerks before he can stop himself.
Iida is furious. Izuku can feel his whole body go tight, and he sucks in a breath to speak, but before he can, Shinsou has his hand on the back of Kaminari’s neck, and is forcing him to his knees in the middle of the little group. Izuku realizes for the first time that the very strange duo Iida had been talking with consisted of Hatsume Mei and Hawks.
“Ow, baby, that hurt--” Kaminari complains, pushing at Shinsou’s hand. “You--”
“Baby--” Shinsou says sweetly.
“What--”
“Shut up and sit still.”
Kaminari’s eyes go wide, glaze over, and he sits very still, ass on the floor, staring straight ahead.
Shinsou looks at Iida, when he says, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”
Shinsou’s eyes flash to Izuku., “Sorry, Kyu.”
Hawks (who’s name tag reads Angel) looks Izuku up and down and says, “That was fast.”
Mei (who’s name tag reads Gizmo) agrees loudly, “That was fast.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Iida says imperiously.
Shinsou laughs in a lazy, disinterested sort of way, and says, “Yeah, sure.”
Izuku says “What?” When no one answers him, he turns to Iida and says, “What?”
Iida kisses him on the cheek, and whispers softly enough that only Izuku can hear, “I. Uh. Don’t usually play with people who haven’t been here a few times.”
Izuku feels a vague but wonderful swell of pride and smug satisfaction at that. He puts his head back on Iida’s shoulder and doesn’t move from his side until a still very brainwashed Kaminari comes to tell him it’s time to leave.
He follows Shinsou and Kaminari out, and Iida walks him home.
***
Izuku feels like he’d had a very intense fight when he wakes up the next day. If it wasn’t for the fact that all the soreness is focused in his ass and his fucking nipples, he would hardly have been able to tell the difference. Every muscle is tight and sore, and he lays in bed for much longer than usual just basking in memory and luxuriating in laziness.
When he finally reaches for his phone, he finds a text from Iida, sent just after he’d gotten home last night with instructions to eat well, sleep in, and take a minor anti-inflammatory.
The text makes Izuku’s whole body heat because it is bossy and domineering and also so quintessentially Iida. Izuku feels like his whole perception of Iida has rearranged itself. And for the better.
So about that date.
Iida texts back, Coffee? Are you free tonight at six?
Izuku feels an absolutely sinful thrill shoot through him when he texts back, Yes, sir.