Hizashi knocks on the bathroom door, the sound of running water covering for anything else that might be happening on the other side. “Do you need some help in there?”
“No.” Aizawa sounds flustered, which is a theme for the evening so far. “I can’t do it if you’re hovering around outside.”
Aizawa had thought Hizashi was joking at first when he was offered use of ‘the guest douche’, before being told that it is very much not a joke. Hizashi would be surprised Aizawa never saw the well-organised box under the sink before, but that assumes he spends a lot of time in the bathroom, which he clearly doesn’t.
Hizashi pointed out that offering such facilities has a high success rate at fucking people who might not have been open to getting fucked in the ass otherwise. And people who don’t ask don’t get anal, so Hizashi is an asker.
“I can show you if you don’t know how.”
“I know how,” Aizawa snaps through the door, though he’d sure seemed shocked when Hizashi had excused himself to the bathroom before their fooling around on the sofa got any more involved. If it has to be done, which it does as far as Hizashi’s concerned, better to do it sooner rather than later, when the interruption is only going to be more awkward than it already is.
According to Aizawa, why anyone would want to wash before sex is puzzling, and that’s kind of worrying to think about on its own. But he’d taken Hizashi up on the offer when Hizashi pointed out that if Aizawa didn’t want to get fucked then by all means don’t bother. Changed his tune pretty quick after that. Just because he’s used to fucking hobos doesn’t mean Hizashi has to get used to it.
Even though it’s taking way too long, Hizashi has to respect Aizawa’s privacy and retreats to the couch for a little bit. Until finally Aizawa returns, looking incredibly sheepish and like he’s forgotten what they were doing.
“We in business?” Hizashi asks him from the sofa, leaning back on the arm with his legs propped up along the back, hands tucked behind his head.
“Sure,” Aizawa replies, and it’s not the most romantic or mood-setting thing to deal with, but neither are the consequences of skipping that stage before they really get into it.
“Bedroom?” Hizashi swings his legs down from the back of the sofa, and Aizawa seems almost… embarrassed, although it’s been a nearly permanent state since Hizashi first got an eyeful and then generous handful of his cock.
Aizawa nods bashfully, but Hizashi doesn’t take it to heart, springing up and putting his hands on Aizawa’s shoulders to steer him in.
“Isn’t it nice how the bed’s not covered in not-your-blood?” Hizashi remarks as they weave into the bedroom, but before Aizawa has a chance to respond continues, “Don’t answer that, actually.”
Aizawa stops at the foot of the bed, as does Hizashi, and after breaking the rhythm with this unfortunate yet entirely necessary interruption, things feel a little strange again.
“So… how are we gonna do this?” Hizashi space-fills, his hands still resting on Aizawa’s shoulders from behind, only lifting when Aizawa turns around to sit on the end of the bed.
“Do what?” he asks like he doesn’t bloody-well know what.
“Well, who goes first,” Hizashi responds, suddenly a bit massively overwhelmed with the fact that he and Aizawa are actually going to have sex and that’s something he never thought would happen until about a week ago.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Aizawa says unhelpfully, head tilted back to look up at Hizashi. He’s still wearing Hizashi’s tracksuit bottoms, while Hizashi’s just in his underwear. They’ve been this barely-dressed together hundreds of times over the years, but it still feels more naked than they’ve ever been around each other.
Hizashi’s mouth moves ahead of his brain a good proportion of the time, meaning he’s already said, “Flip a coin?” before reflecting on what an absurd idea it is.
Aizawa doesn’t react dramatically, but the lift of his eyebrows is dramatic in context for his expressions. “Do you have a coin?”
“Uhh, no.” There goes that plan. Next Hizashi tries, “Rock paper scissors?”
Now Aizawa actually sounds scathing. “You want to play rock paper scissors for who bottoms first?”
“Yeah!” Hizashi insists, since any plan is better than no fucking plan at all. “Winner tops!”
Aizawa rolls his eyes, and that’s perfect, really, because it’s them in a way that cuts through the tension. “You’re ridiculous.”
Hizashi scoffs, “You agreed to go out with me.”
“Exactly,” Aizawa returns, warming up like leftovers, a secret hint of amusement hidden in his eyes. “There must be something really wrong with me.”
“Oh come on!” Hizashi baits, holding out his fist demonstratively. “Just play me for it.”
Aizawa sighs, because that’s what he does, and then gives in, because that’s also what he does. Holds out his fist and bounces on a count that Hizashi calls out, “One, two, three!”
Aizawa’s fist, perhaps predictably, doesn’t change shape, but Hizashi’s does. Two fingers thrown out, and whether it’s a conscious or subconscious thing probably doesn’t matter.
“Hah! You win!” Hizashi crows, getting more excited again. “Alright, let’s do this, I’ll put some music on.” He’s got a speaker in the bedroom all loaded up for this very purpose, dashing over to pick out his sexy times playlist and hitting shuffle.
As the first randomly selected track begins, when Hizashi’s own voice kicks in over the opening bars of a song from his first album, Aizawa’s expression goes from ‘not quite sure what’s going on’ to ‘the least impressed he’s literally ever been’.
“You have a playlist full of your own music to listen to during sex?”
“I like the songs!” Hizashi brays indignantly. “That’s why I made them!” It’s not all his music, but a couple… dozen of his favourites? Sure. “Don’t act like you haven’t heard me playing this before in the bedroom.” When he was fucking other people with Aizawa indifferently in the next room. Looking back, okay, it probably was a little indicative that they weren’t as bothered by that as the people Hizashi was sleeping with usually were.
Aizawa gives him another of those raised-eyebrow looks. “You assume I paid attention?”
“Uh, apparently not,” Hizashi shoots back like he's offended. Which he sorta is.
Aizawa’s looking Hizashi up and down in the same way Hizashi has looked at him before, the one where he’s thinking ‘him?’ on the inside but it’s showing on the outside.
It sends a jolt of contrarian hyperactivity down Hizashi’s spine when Aizawa mutters, “So egotistical,” like he really can’t believe he’s about to do this, but the truth of it is Hizashi’s much more comfortable when Aizawa’s slinging insults at him than the crushing silence of not knowing what to do with themselves. So even though it’s stupid, it still works.
Aizawa’s still sitting on the end of Hizashi’s bed, which makes it an easy transition for Hizashi to return to one of his favourite new positions, which is spontaneously straddling Aizawa’s lap.
Linking his hands behind Aizawa’s neck, set at a level where their mouths don’t quite meet, Hizashi tilts his gaze downwards and suggests, “Are you gonna put me in my place? Take me down a notch?”
Wow, he was just joking around, but Hizashi kinda turns himself on with the insinuation. Aizawa’s always been an ego killer, and Hizashi’s is big enough to need that far more than he usually admits.
Aizawa reaches out to take hold of Hizashi by the hips so assertively that Hizashi’s ‘good mood’ is returning with a vengeance, and mutters before covering Hizashi’s mouth with his own, “I’m going to shut you up.”
Turns out the only thing better than Hizashi’s voice being erased by Aizawa while he’s coming is when Aizawa’s also the one giving him the orgasm.
Hizashi doesn’t really know the exact mechanics of it, since Aizawa’s quirk has always been something that just happens, but whenever Aizawa’s erasing Hizashi’s quirk he still feels as if he’s making a sound, but nothing actually comes out. Out of his vocal chords, at least. Plenty comes out of his cock when Aizawa gives him a prostate orgasm so powerful he might have actually screamed a hole in the roof if it wasn’t for Aizawa’s erasing gaze at the moment of la petite mort as the French say, and damn, they really meant it.
There’s a handful of things Aizawa does utterly incompetently, like brushing his hair, staying off drugs, and eating and sleeping regularly, but this is not one of them. Once it’s agreed that he’s fucking Hizashi first, he applies that diligent, extremely thorough work ethic until Hizashi’s completely ready to take him, muttering a sly comment about seeing just how much of a clean freak Hizashi really is before pressing his mouth between Hizashi’s cheeks because he really doesn’t skimp on the foreplay.
It’s pretty necessary foreplay, since Aizawa’s cock is probably the biggest thing Hizashi’s ever had in his ass, though note that’s only probably. But once he’s lying on his back with his legs up on Aizawa’s shoulders, taking all of that stoic, uncompromising bastard inside of him, they’re very much in business. It was lucky enough Hizashi had a condom that would even fit Aizawa. It happens to be a novelty design he received a free pack of as a promotion for his lube sponsorship deal and says OH YEAH down the shaft in block capitals, which Hizashi had thought was funny at the time, and thinks it might be even funnier now he’s getting fucked by one.
What Aizawa can’t do is stop Hizashi from talking all of the time. So it’s just part of the package, and what a package it is, that Aizawa gets a running commentary on how their seminal we’re-best-friends-but-dating-now sex is going. Which is fucking great.
“Ohhhh fuck, baby, just like that,” Hizashi jabbers as Aizawa holds him by the calf in one hand and the thigh in the other, hips rocking steadily back and forth so that impressive cock touches every sweet spot Hizashi has plus a few he didn’t know about. It’s been tricky in the past for people to properly reach his prostate, actually easier being pegged than leaving it to dick-to-dick chance, since bigger tends to be better, but especially thicker. And Aizawa’s is a blunt tool, but it sure gets the fucking job done. “Oh please fuck I’m gonna oohhHHH–”
And that was the point Aizawa cut him off while Hizashi had a blindingly powerful climax with a hand wrapped tightly around his own cock. Aizawa slows down while Hizashi’s coming and stops when he’s finished, which Hizashi appreciates, though he doesn’t skip over the elephant in the room.
“Aren’t you gonna finish?” Hizashi asks groggily, feeling unbelievably good, no post-climax regrets or fears rushing in that maybe this was a bad idea. This was a fucking great idea, and if there’s anyone who knows Hizashi well enough to recognise the hot mess of a person spawled out on the mattress covered in his own jizz, it’s Aizawa. Not the hero, or the heavily tattooed musician and DJ, or the flighty boyfriend who’s always been unusually attached to his best friend. The real person who’s part of all those things, but no single one entirely.
“Like this?” Aizawa questions as if finishing balls deep in Hizashi’s ass is an unusual concept to him. Which it is, Hizashi supposes, but it shouldn’t be. “Probably not.”
“Why nooooht?” Hizashi asks around a moan as Aizawa pulls out of him, squirming towards the bedside table to snatch up a couple of tissues from the box whose existence revolves around cleanup of mostly sex-related bodily fluids.
Aizawa shrugs. “Just harder for me, I guess.”
“Not the only thing that’s hard,” Hizashi quips, though he knows it must mean Aizawa fucked him like that for Hizashi’s enjoyment more than his own, and if that’s not a turn-on Hizashi doesn’t know what is. "You want me to do something about it?"
Aizawa’s eyes narrow a little, as if he can’t imagine what Hizashi’s implying. He’s still on his knees halfway down the bed, so Hizashi just reaches for his wrist and pulls him over to lie down on his back. “Fine, I’ll show you.”
Hizashi whips the condom off, appreciating the mild flavouring of… is it banana? When he goes back to sucking Aizawa off and this time isn’t going to stop until he sees this thing to completion.
Aizawa doesn’t make a lot of sound, but he makes enough that Hizashi’s quietly confident it’s doing the trick. Aizawa’s got a lot of cock to take, but Hizashi’s throat is more than hard-wearing enough to withstand it. It’s worth gagging just to glance up and see Aizawa watching him looking so utterly fucking disarmed.
It’s dangerous seeing Aizawa like this, because now Hizashi has he’s not sure he wants to see his best friend any other way. That someone usually so guarded, even around Hizashi about certain things, is just sparking raw wires. Biting back moans when Hizashi adds a hand to boost the efforts of his mouth and drags Aizawa up to the edge of his own orgasm – as if Hizashi was going to let him get away without getting off.
Hizashi keeps changing things up, varies pressures and speed to figure out what works best, and it’s when he hears the soft grunt of, “Fuck,” that he knows he’s onto a winner. Not long after, Aizawa comes with a muffled noise that Hizashi could chop up in a line and snort.
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Hizashi jokes after spitting into another tissue.
“Who said it was bad?” Aizawa replies to the ceiling, flopped out on his back letting that fierce erection deflate. His eyes roll to the side, following Hizashi up and down the bed, clearly thinking something over before he comments, “I just thought you’d be more…” he stalls for a minute, but then goes for it anyway, “heterosexual.”
“HAH!” Hizashi squawks, slumping down onto his side facing Aizawa, “How’d you figure that?”
Aizawa’s face is much more expressive than others give him credit for, little changes that Hizashi’s used to reading after many years of practice. A wrinkling of his brow to suggest his scepticism, framing an otherwise monotone delivery with a layer of emotion that’d be easy to miss otherwise.
“Well what’s the ratio?”
“Ratio of what?” Hizashi retorts, and there’s something else to be said for fucking Aizawa, since he’s right there to talk to after like they’ve always chatted. Best friend and boyfriend. Hizashi can’t believe he only recently realised what a great combination that could be.
“Of women to men.”
Hizashi snorts, and has to remind himself that Aizawa’s got a very narrow type of sexual experience. And they’ve never really talked about this sort of stuff before, so who else would tell him?
“I mean, probably like seventy-thirty, I guess, but that’s because there’s more straight women around than gay men.” Hizashi doesn’t begrudge explaining this to Aizawa, it’s just kind of funny that he’s twenty-three already and thinks there’s a correlation between how gay Hizashi is and the amount of men or women he’s fucked. “What you should be asking is how many of my girlfriends pegged me,” he tries to joke, but it’s lost on Aizawa, who stares at him so blankly that a few seconds later Hizashi sighs and adds, “It’s when someone fucks you with a strap-on, idiot.”
“Oh,” Aizawa remarks with the quiet implication that he’d never considered such an act in his life, and to be fair he probably hasn’t. “Why, how many have done that?”
“Like, easily eighty percent,” Hizashi answers. “Especially if you count one-night stands who saw the strap and wanted to go for it.” Hizashi had never expected pillow talk with Aizawa to be similar to anything else he’s experienced, since nothing he does with Aizawa seems to be similar to his dating history, but it’s still not even close to what Hizashi thought it might be. “But the gender balance and type of sex don’t have anything to do with sexuality, you know.”
“I know.” Aizawa’s so… novel like this. Like Hizashi has known him practically ten years and this is a brand new side of his friend that he’s only just found. What wouldn’t he love about getting to know more Aizawa? “I just…”
“Assumed things about me?” Hizashi prompts sharkishly when Aizawa conspicuously trails off.
Aizawa shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Means you thought about it, though,” Hizashi hints, wondering if he can be bothered to go smoke a cigarette or if it’s better to just lay here basking in it. They could smoke in bed if they were at Aizawa’s, but then they’d be on his garbage paper-thin futon, and Hizashi prefers his nice expensive mattress over that. Aizawa probably does too, the way he gets himself situated like a cat finding a comfy spot not to move from for the next few hours.
“About what?” That perturbed wrinkle in Aizawa’s brow is back.
“Me,” Hizashi says obviously. "If you were expecting me to be straighter than I am.” What a ridiculous concept, but Hizashi knows where it comes from. No one, not even someone like Aizawa, apparently, can fully separate themselves from the heternormative filter that someone like Hizashi gets perceived through. That the women he fucks will always outweigh the men on the scales, and people think it means anything except the fact that he’ll take whatever he gets.
“Only…” Aizawa stops again, looking over at Hizashi, who’s got his head propped on his hand in the perfect lounge lizard position, “… recently.”
“Yeah?” Hizashi keeps grinning. The more impressive thing is that Aizawa never noticed Hizashi being pegged by any of his exes when he used to do his sticking his head in the door to use his quirk to shut Hizashi up during orgasm bit, but then it’s already been established he wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to that as most people would. “How recently?”
“Since we kissed,” Aizawa answers simply, and Hizashi almost chokes on his own laughter.
“So let me get this straight,” Hizashi sets up with a wave of sarcasm, “You’ve been thinking about how heterosexual I am after we started dating?”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Aizawa replies grumpily.
“Because it is stupid,” Hizashi retorts. “Were you thinking I was only gonna want to fuck you and not the other way round?” As if that's less gay somehow.
Aizawa’s face says that’s exactly what he thought, and he really is a total noob when it comes to this stuff. Then again, Hizashi’s not sure Aizawa’s spent more than fifteen minutes in his entire life contemplating the breadth or depth of human sexuality. His own seems to work on a gay-case-by-case basis, kinda like the rest of him.
Aizawa shrugs again. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Hah!” Hizashi squawks. “You’re that desperate to get fucked, huh?”
Aizawa literally just banged Hizashi’s brains out, but he gets flustered now. “I just thought it’d be your thing.”
“Baby, everything’s my thing,” Hizashi zings, and the displeased crease between Aizawa’s eyebrows returns.
“Do you have to call me that?”
“Yes.” There’s no question, no hesitation to answer. He better just get used to it. “I should stop calling you Aizawa too, probably.”
Aizawa’s expression twists incredulously. “Why?”
“Because I think we’re a bit closer than that now, don’t you?!” Hizashi hoots, but quietens down for the next bit. “Your parents are the only ones who call you Shota, aren’t they?”
He nods, still watching Hizashi peacefully with those brown Bambi eyes. “It’s weird when you say it.”
“I dunno, I kinda like it,” Hizashi narrates to himself as much as anyone. It’s right in the way Hizashi not being allowed to see Aizawa in the hospital until general visiting hours was wrong. That Hizashi and Aizawa’s parents are on a different level to everyone else, and calling him Shota is just a small way of showing that. “Shota,” he tries out, and getting no reaction repeats, “Shota. Shota Shota Shota–”
“What?” Ai… no, Shota snaps.
Hizashi smiles. “You have to call me Hizashi too.”
“If you say so, Yamada,” he replies just wryly enough to be deliberate.
“No! Hizashi!” Hizashi demands, reaching out to poke one of Shota’s delicious pecs. That makes more sense than most things, Hizashi thinks. Aizawa’s never had a chest Hizashi wants to eat three meals a day off of, but Shota sure does. Pokes him again. “Say it!”
Rolling his eyes, Shota sighs, “Fine. Hizashi.”
“Good.” Hizashi could claim to be satisfied, but he’d be a dirty liar. In fact, he rolls over and onto Shota with renewed vigor. “Now, what was this about wanting me to fuck you?”
Hizashi’s got him there. Sees it in those burnt earth eyes, longer eyelashes than seems fair on anyone as aesthetically barren as him.
Shota presses up into Hizashi’s weight, and his erection hasn’t really gone down so much as taken a quick power nap. There’s heat in his tone that soaks right into Hizashi’s bones.
“I was beginning to think you’d never ask.”
Shota is much more Hizashi’s type than previously thought, because according to the record, Hizashi likes clean boys who brush their teeth and have tight asses. Well, Shota’s had a shower fairly recently, and might have even brushed his teeth, but his ass is definitely tight enough to make up for any failings on the first two.
“Oh fuck, Shota,” Hizashi pants with his hands clenched tightly around the sides of Shota’s lower back. Where Shota gets this ‘harder to come this way’ story is utterly astounding, because if Hizashi hadn’t recently climaxed his soul temporarily out of his body he’d be struggling not to sprint to the finish line now.
Shota, still getting used to that, but in the way of sinking into a slightly too hot bathtub, is breathing deeply, resting on his hands and knees with his back running slightly downhill towards the mattress. Hizashi’s not sure he’d mind being pounded to oblivion straight away, as for someone with so much dominant, controlling energy in the professional aspects of his life, he’s shockingly submissive in his personal habits.
The more Hizashi thinks about it, the more he realises that Shota just lets things happen to him; like Cricket did, like drugs did, and like Hizashi did too. Difference being that Hizashi would like to be good for him in the way those other things weren’t. So with that in mind, he’s not just gonna fuck Shota selfishly, since Shota didn’t do that for him.
No, Hizashi’s gonna take his sweet-ass time with this one.
Shota’s not particularly noisy, but he buries his mouth in the duvet and pushes back against Hizashi every time Hizashi thrusts into him, those muffled sounds getting a little louder each time. So it could be said that Hizashi’s goal is to get Shota to make as much noise as possible, and it could be said he succeeds at that. Hizashi’s never heard his old buddy Aizawa moan the way he does now, but when Hizashi’s worked out exactly the right angle to hit with each thrust, Shota’s another question.
“Ah… there,” Shota groans so quietly against the covers, and Hizashi’s hooked on him already, wanting nothing more than to explore every last inch and nuance of this new side of someone he’s known forever.
“Right there, huh?” Hizashi’s starting to babble again, but hell if it doesn’t feel good enough to lose a little coherence. “Like that? You gonna come for me, Shota? You gonna– ahh!” he feels it before anything else, because Shota doesn’t give any warning, just grunts a little deeper than other times and is already gone. Hizashi was gonna wash the sheets anyway.
Hizashi stops thrusting, taking a second to admire Shota’s sculpted, heaving back laid out in front of him, chest fully pressed to the bed, and thinks to himself that it’s a view he could stand seeing an awful lot of.
“You can keep going,” Shota’s voice comes through husky, bringing Hizashi back down into the room just to appreciate the texture of that distinctive rasp.
“Really?” Hizashi moves slowly, tentatively even, but the sound Shota makes this time is like petrol in his blood. “It’s not too much?”
“S’fine,” Shota grunts into the covers, and Hizashi’s not mistaken, he’s still grinding backwards against Hizashi, still wants more even after getting a whole lot.
“Who knew you were such a greedy bottom?” Hizashi teases, though he’s sure as shit not complaining, since he could keep fucking his bestie like this all night. Hell, that sounds like a great plan.
“I did,” Shota replies, and now he actually lifts himself up on his arms enough to grind back on Hizashi deliberately. “Keep going.”
Hizashi gets a grip on Shota’s ass, nice ass that it is, and decides fuck it, if he wants to get pounded so badly, Hizashi will just have to give it to him. “Remember that you wanted this in about five minutes time.”
“If I’m capable of remembering anything you aren’t doing it right,” Shota says in that way of his that’s always lit a fire under Hizashi’s ass, now they’re just flames of a much fuckier nature than their usual friendly rivalry.
“Now that’s a challenge,” Hizashi baits, using his knees to spread Shota’s stance a little wider, then leans forward to push his boyfriend's upper body back down onto the bed, fixing that angle that made him moan the loudest. Hizashi’s not going to be satisfied until he screams. “You asked for it, baby.”
So Shota multiples.
He comes, and just keeps coming. Until he’s the deconstructed essence of a person fucked all seven ways to Sunday, and the only reason they stop is because Hizashi’s thighs are close to cramping and he can’t edge himself any longer without actually losing his mind. He finishes with his forehead pressed to the top of Shota’s back and his fingers digging marks over Shota’s hips, loosing a sound that neither of them are put together enough to stop from shaking pictures off the walls.
Hizashi doesn’t know what time it is by that point, but after the minimal amount of necessary cleanup he just about passes out on the bed next to Shota, who might already be asleep by his similarly exhausted breathing.
They’ve shared a bed before, plenty of times over the years, but never like this. Where after an indeterminable amount of sweaty, fucked-out sleep Hizashi can wake up and feel for Shota in the darkness. Finds him solid as a rock, agreeable to being spooned, then ground on, and then after some sleepy murmurs and fumbling in the dark to get a condom on, fucked again without introduction. Just lies there under Hizashi, legs wrapped around Hizashi’s waist, gasping in quiet pleasure while Hizashi covers his mouth in kisses and realises that all the weird things about fucking his best friend are also all of the best things about it.
Because there’s no confusion or reservations between them, no barriers the way Hizashi would be testing out with someone new. He knows Shota well enough to trust all his reactions are genuine, to know what he wants just from the way he pants and pulls Hizashi closer, deeper into him. That Shota doesn’t do ungenuine reactions, so every drop of pleasure Hizashi wrings out of him has to be authentic.
They fuck half the night away at least, probably more, until the mind can be willing but the body’s had enough, and a couple more times after that they really have to stop. Hizashi rides Shota right into the early hours of the morning, this time determined they’re both going to come from it. With the help of a butt plug he achieves this goal, thriving on Shota’s surprised groans like the hull of an old battleship when he’s brought to orgasm by Hizashi bouncing on his cock.
Another cataonic sex-nap later Hizashi wakes up with a wicked case of beard burn from Shota’s stubble and aching so much from the waist down he’s not sure he can walk, much less make it to the shower. But Shota’s not going to go by himself, so it’s up to Hizashi to drag him along too.
“Why’d you wanna shower?” Shota slurs to him groggily, the same he’s always looked first thing in the morning. Or, mostly the same. The hickies and the sex hair are less familiar, and certainly not when Hizashi was the one who gave it all to him, and then some. “I just had one.”
“Yesterday, before fucking literally all night,” Hizashi declares sideways from his sex-sweaty pillows and sheets that have suffered enough come and lube to deserve some mercy.
Shota remains unimpressed. "So?"
"So, we can fuck some more in the shower if you stop stalling," Hizashi points out salicously.
"We can fuck here too," he counters without moving a muscle. Hizashi’s not sure he can move a muscle either, but his dick begs to differ.
"No, shower," Hizashi demands, rolling over to Shota and persuasively getting him started with a handie before getting up and not carrying on unless he follows Hizashi to the shower. Which he does, albeit complaining along the way.
They’re both too sore to fully fuck again, as tentative exploration quickly proves, and that’s how Hizashi ends up with Shota on his knees under the flow of the shower, sucking Hizashi’s cock like that’s just the shit they do now. The sight of Shota’s inky black hair pasted down against his face and neck while Hizashi’s tender cock pumps in and out of his warm, wet mouth is enough to get off on imagery alone. Plus, getting head in the shower means Hizashi can come all over Shota’s face and it’s washed away almost instantly. Honestly, there’s a lot to be said for the satisfaction of jizzing on the face of his oldest friend and the pain in his ass most days, but extra literally today.
Hizashi finishes Shota with the continuation of his handjob and a couple of soapy fingers up the butt, so sensitive that it takes almost no time at all. Perhaps to get even, or just because he’s that kinda bastard, Shota aims for Hizashi’s face too, managing to get him right in the eye and then sniggering when Hizashi tries to scold him as he washes it out under the shower.
Unlike Shota’s ‘thought you were straighter’ storyline that makes no fucking sense, Hizashi hadn’t come into this with a bag full of preconceptions about what he thought sleeping with Shota would be like. Well, not true. He had come in with no preconceptions, because he couldn’t picture his otherwise utterly non-sexual friend in a sexual context, and had mistakenly thought the fact that he isn’t particularly sexual elsewhere in his life would translate in some way to his bedroom habits. And that was wrong. Shota is a hungry bottom with a big dick who can actually keep up with Hizashi’s sex drive at its peak, and that is no small achievement.
Since Hizashi is washing his own hair anyway, he also does Shota’s, something he’d never considered being in his wheelhouse before. That rats’ nest has always been such a fucking disaster that Hizashi normally wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. But when Shota moans more dramatically from Hizashi massaging his scalp than his cock, Hizashi reckons wheelhouses are overrated and he can be the one to introduce his boyfriend’s poor hair to conditioner for the first time in its life.
That Shota allows all this isn’t exactly surprising anymore, as Hizashi’s realised he’s textbook sex-stupid and really that easy to manipulate through his cock, but it’s funny how much he seems to enjoy it. Lets Hizashi bribe him into the shower and have his hair washed properly for once. And it’s so fun. Why is it so fun?
Maybe because doing most things with his best friend is fun, Hizashi’s forced to admit. Sex is no exception.
Hizashi’s got a full day planned as he usually does, but isn’t in such a rush that he can’t make coffee and drink it with Shota in the living room like they’ve always done when they get the chance, a few differences aside. Like how Shota does such a shitty job trying to brush his hair that Hizashi gets cross and does that for him too, putting them in the bizarre position of Hizashi sitting on the sofa with Shota on the floor teasing out all the tangles Hizashi fucked into his hair last night.
“This isn’t really necessary, you know,” Shota comments as he sips his coffee and doesn’t lift a finger to stop it.
“Sure it is,” Hizashi replies, kind of enjoying the ease of untangling hair not attached to his own head. It’s sorta therapeutic, and is much less strenuous than everything else he’s been doing with Shota. Although, that doesn’t stop him leaning down closer to Shota’s ear to slip a lurid, “Maybe I like having something good to grab onto,” into his ear, and Shota turns his head just enough to catch Hizashi in a heated gaze. He just would be into that, wouldn’t he?
Turning back to the front, Shota’s calm as he announces, “I’ll be going out to work later, new case came up.” Where he’s had the time to check for new cases between getting fucked senseless literally all night is amazing, but then, Shota kinda is. He takes another slurp of his coffee and casually adds, “I’ll be gone by the time you get back.”
Hizashi stops brushing again and leans forwards, folding over and draping his arms across Shota’s front, chin perched on his shoulder. “You’re saying you won’t be here to get fucked within an inch of your life again?”
Shota snorts, tipping his head to make more room for Hizashi on his shoulder, which Hizashi takes as an invitation to latch onto his neck. Turns out that Shota’s skin is so fair even the lightest pressure will leave love bites, but he doesn’t care what he looks like and clearly loves the sensation, because he reaches up to grip Hizashi’s arm and squeezes it while Hizashi sucks one more mark onto that pale neck, just to be extra sure he knows the score.
Shota riffs the way Hizashi likes his coffee, hot and sweet with just a hint of bitterness, “I’m not dead yet.”
Hizashi texts his ex.
He doesn’t know why, really, except that he has to tell someone, and of all the people who’d understand, she’s the one who figured it out long before Hizashi did. Who helped him figure it out, not that he realised it at the time.
So he starts with a casual hi but right after sends a straightforward: you were right about me and Aizawa.
She replies pretty quickly with just a few question marks, so Hizashi elaborates with we’re dating and waits for the inevitable I told you so. Which is why he’s really not expecting the response he does get.
HE’S GOT A HUGE DICK
Hizashi’s mouth falls open, he can admit, and he replies, HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!?!
IT WAS AN ACCIDENT
So that’s what happened, Hizashi finally realises.
THAT’S what you were too embarrassed to tell me?!
Yeah! How was I supposed to say I knew it wasn’t you because his cock was too big????
Like that, Hizashi supposes, though he doesn’t know what it would’ve achieved back then.
You could’ve at least mentioned it!
Right, like you’d have wanted to hear from me back then that your best friend has a bigger dick than you do.
True. Hizashi almost questions why they broke up, given she’s still just as funny and cool to talk to as she’s always been, but then he didn’t spend the last twelve hours fucking his best friend until their cocks were about to fall off because he’s still in love with his ex.
So Hizashi has to give her that much, as well as the obvious admission. Well you were right all along. It was there.
You’re actually together?!
Hizashi hasn’t admitted it to anyone else yet, he realises as he replies with an over-exposed-feeling, Yeah.
That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!
It’s still not what Hizashi was expecting to hear, so he doesn’t really know how to react at first. In the end he just goes for a vaguely uncomfortable, thanks.
When Hizashi asks Recovery Girl to do a STD screening for him, something that Hizashi has asked from her a dozen or more times in his life, and shouldn’t be out of the ordinary, he really doesn’t expect her response to be a completely deadpan, “Ah, finally fucking Aizawa, are you?”
“What?!” Hizashi screeches in the UA nurses’ office, where he stopped off on the way back from a patrol for a bolt of nostalgia, but mostly so she could draw blood and run the tests. Hizashi needs to make an appointment at the clinic, but Recovery Girl takes walk-ins.
“Shhh!” she shushes him fiercely. “You’ll take the bloody windows out, Yamada. Again.”
“I just… how did you jump to that conclusion?” Hizashi isn’t denying it, he tells himself. He just doesn’t know why she’d know. It’s not like Shota would’ve told her.
“He came in here yesterday for the same thing,” Recovery Girl reveals smugly, and maybe Shota did tell her then, in his own way. “You’re here now. I put two and two together.”
It was something they’d discussed basically as Hizashi was leaving in the morning – some stupid throwaway comment about how Hizashi would find time to raw Shota later whether he was working or not. Shota had steadfastly responded that Hizashi wasn’t ‘rawing’ anyone without a clean STD test. Coming from the man who used to fuck a needle-using hobo with less teeth than Hizashi has fingers and toes, this was an insult of the highest degree.
At least, Hizashi made out like it was, until Shota asked him to give the names of the last five people he fucked, and when Hizashi couldn’t even remember one admitted that perhaps they were the pot and kettle after all. It hadn’t been a really serious conversation so much as a bickering argument where they’d both insisted the other needed a test if they had to get one, and apparently both had the bright idea to ask Recovery Girl. Putting them in this position.
Honestly, Hizashi’s most shocked that Shota beat him to it. Not so fucking busy with his case after all.
“When was he in here?” Hizashi asks suspiciously, as it’s been nearly two days since they parted ways and he hasn’t heard more than a handful of ‘not dead’ messages from Shota since then. If he’s finding time to go for STD tests he can pick up the fucking phone to his boyfriend, a title Hizashi doesn’t have to be totally used to yet to throw around the weight of.
“About ten last night,” Recovery Girl answers routinely, getting out a syringe to draw some of Hizashi’s blood. “Stupid bugger got himself shot again, wanted me to throw the STD test in while I was patching him up.”
“WHAT?!” Hizashi yells even louder, and Recovery Girl smacks him on the knee.
“Pipe down! Honestly, Yamada, if you break the windows again Nezu is going to bill you out the nose for the soundproof replacement.” It won’t work, as there’s few materials that have been proven Present Mic-level soundproof, but they can try. Hizashi can afford it.
“He got shot?!” Hizashi’s… mad? He’s mad? He’s a lot of something, that’s for sure.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Recovery Girl remarks with her little eyebrows adding about an inch to her tiny statue, that’s how high she hoists them. “You’re sleeping together but don’t even know what he’s up to?”
“We’re–!” Well, he can’t exactly say they’re not sleeping together, as that’s not what Hizashi’s still aching muscles have been telling him over the past day or so. "He doesn’t tell me things like that…" Never has. Isn’t that kind of fucked up?
“It was just a flesh wound, but I’ve never known someone who bleeds like he does,” Recovery Girl bemoans with an impatient roll of her eyes.
“Why?” Hizashi has… hangups about Shota and blood, this much he knows.
“Oh, he probably just has a big heart,” Recovery Girl says in such a normal way, but it’s still weird to hear. “It happens sometimes with very athletic people, their heart adapts to pump more blood to accommodate regular strenuous physical activity. It’s not a harmful condition, unless you’ve gotten yourself shot or stabbed and start bleeding out like there’s no tomorrow.”
Hizashi feels sick, and not because Recovery Girl’s sticking a needle in his arm to draw out his own blood. Because he’s back in that den with Shota on the floor in a pool of his own blood, pressing down over his guts and begging him to stay awake, to finish what he was saying while the blood soaked Hizashi’s hands so thoroughly he was picking it out from under his nails hours later. That it could have happened again and Hizashi wasn’t there, wouldn’t have even fucking known about it. He’s so mad he’s shaking.
“Are you alright, Yamada? You’ve gone white as a sheet,” Recovery Girl comments as she pulls the syringe back and pops a bit of cotton wool over the spot of blood that wells up.
“Yeah,” Hizashi lies thinly. “So he’s alright?”
“Just stupid, like he always is,” she replies, and Hizashi clenches his jaw.
“Yeah,” Hizashi agrees, swallowing bitterly. “Stupid.”
You didn’t tell me you got hurt.
Hizashi sends it as soon as he’s left Recovery Girl’s office, but Shota doesn’t even look at it for almost an hour, and doesn’t reply for even longer.
So fucking underwhelming. Hizashi isn’t sure what he wants to do to Shota, but he wants to do it a whole lot.
Saw Recovery Girl. She told me you were in there with a GUNSHOT yesterday.
Again, Shota makes him wait before responding, and Hizashi gets so frustrated he doesn’t wait, demanding instead, Where are you?
That one Shota responds to quicker.
WHERE Hizashi replies fiercely. He’s finished his formal commitments for the day and was going to have a drink with some music friends, but that’ll have to wait.
Shota responds with a GPS pin around forty minutes away from Hizashi’s location. All Hizashi says is, I’m on my way.
The tall dark drink of trouble is waiting for Hizashi in a dingy alleyway, or maybe he’s just taking a smoke break and it’s a coincidence that it’s where he is when Hizashi finally jogs up full of indignant fire.
Starting easy, Shota comments, “You didn’t need to come–” but cuts off when Hizashi doesn’t slow down and just charges right up to him. Grabs hold of Shota by the ring of capture weapon around his neck and shoves him hard enough to slam back against the wall.
“You tell me when you get hurt.” Hizashi’s not here to negotiate, to argue the toss about this like Shota’s the one who chooses what’s serious enough to bother mentioning. This isn’t a warning, it’s the ultimatum.
Shota stares at Hizashi holding him to the wall with unfiltered surprise, a wisp of smoke lifting from his hand where the forgotten cigarette burns between his fingers.
“I’m fine,” he offers.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Hizashi tells him, his knuckles white as Shota’s capture weapon bunched in his fists.
“Why?” Shota starts incredulously, but Hizashi isn’t here for a debate.
“Because you always think you’re fine until you’re fucking not!” Hizashi snaps. “I shouldn’t have to find out you got shot from some old lady.” Not just any old lady, but that’s not the point.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you everything I’m doing,” Shota replies like the stupid fucking stubborn bastard that he is, so Hizashi shuts him up the best way they know how, which is a kiss so angry he could blow fire between Shota’s lips and it’d be no different.
Shota doesn’t see it coming, but he definitely responds, raising his empty hand to grab onto Hizashi’s forearm and squeezing it in that way that means don’t stop.
Breaking away with a steamy pant, Hizashi catches his fuming breath and backs up enough to see the dazed, sex idiot look in his boyfriend’s eyes. “You tell me when you’re hurt, Shota,” he repeats one more time for emphasis. “It’s not a question. I’m telling you.”
It’s like a piece slotting into place that Hizashi hadn’t realised was out before, a scratch finally itched when Shota closes his mouth and nods obediently. That all the anxiety and concern Hizashi has always had around Shota fits into this better than it did anything else, and now they’re together, it actually makes sense.
Hizashi kisses him again, less aggressively this time, but still with enough force to make sure Shota knows who the fuck’s calling the shots. He just hangs onto Hizashi and takes it the way he’s always taken everything Hizashi’s thrown at him.
“And before you ask,” Hizashi murmurs when he lifts his mouth just enough to speak, his breath pouring over Shota’s damp lips, “Yes, it’s a dating thing.”