Work Text:
“I'm not built for this.” Izuku declared as he flopped onto the couch. Shouto glanced up from his phone, reaching out to run his hand through his boyfriend's hair, noting that it was damp with sweat. His hair seemed to get even more wild with the humidity.
Shouto knew how miserable he really was, because he wasn't trying to climb into his lap. One of the most interesting things about Izuku was how casually he treated touch. He touched everyone! Hugs for friends, brushes on shoulders, curling up with them, resting his head on shoulders. He gave out these small gestures of affection without a second thought.
Shouto was afraid to touch and be touched. He was afraid of hurting someone, or being hurt. He was well aware of the fact that he could hurt someone with his skin if he wanted to, and maybe even if he really didn't mean to.
His whole body was a weapon. This was something his father had done intentionally. This was a fact that was bragged about. This was something that haunted him in the loneliest hours of the night, when he was alone with the shapes and shadows that gnawed at the corners of his mind. It would have been ridiculously easy to give in and be the weapon his father intended him to be.
But, Shouto thought, there was something more gratifying in the act of refusing to be that weapon. He was a human, and deserved to be treated that way, even by himself. He did still have reservations about physical touch.
Until he met Izuku. He was in the supporting class, and he made amazing accommodations to costumes and weapons. He analyzed quirks better than anyone Shouto had ever known. He was fantastic, he was breathtaking. It was in the way he pushed his glasses up his nose when he worked, the way he mumbled to himself. It was in those freckles that he wanted to trace constellations on.
And of course, the way he touched. He did it so easily, so simply, and his hands were always so—so kind. It made Shouto want to cry the first time he'd help fit him with gloves. As soon as Izuku's fingers brushed the tender inner skin on his wrists, he felt like an addict. He'd never be happy until he had more.
Or maybe even all, if he was being honest.
It took him six weeks to ask Izuku out. He kept coming to the workshop, claiming problems with this or that. Anything for a few more minutes of his time, anything for him to pay attention to Shouto. Finally, one evening in the shop, when he was adjusting the belt of his costume, Shouto couldn't take it anymore.
“Midoriya... I really need you to go out with me.”
“Oh?” Izuku blinked, peering over the edge of his glasses. “You do? What for? I mean, yeah, sure, but why?”
“Why?” Shouto stared. “What do you mean why? Because I keep making up things wrong because I want to be close to you. Because you're the only one that I want to touch me!”
“Is that why you keep winding up here? I was beginning to think I was constructing things poorly.” Izuku hummed.
“No, not---no.” he shook his head and swallowed. “Please, Midoriya?”
“I already told you yes, Todoroki. Pick me up at my dorm on Friday after school.” he smiled and began to put away his tools. Todoroki was almost dizzy when he had such a simply answer. Had it always been this easy, in his grasp? He could have just asked for it, and it would have been given to him? Unbelievable.
They had been attached at the hip every since.
“What aren't you built for?” he asked indulgently.
“The heeeeat.” Izuku whined. “It's too much. I'm sticky all over, Sho'!”
“So take a bath?” he suggested.
“No.” he gave a pouty look, like it was easy as that to say no. It was, Shouto thought. It was criminal how damn cute he could be while saying no.
“I want you to fix it.”
“I'm not in charge of the weather, my love.” he reminded him simply. Izuku shrugged, like that wasn't the crux of the matter. Shouto looked at him for a moment, thinking. He stood up, grabbing Izuku's hand, dragging him towards the bedroom.
He tossed his boyfriend towards the bed, closed the curtains. Blocking out the sun would do some good, he reasoned. He climbed onto the bed himself and began stripping off Izuku's tank top. He let his cold hand tangle in his hair, listening to him squeal at the temperature change, then sigh in relief.
Shouto pressed against Izuku's body, pressing kisses down his neck. He sucked here and there, gave tiny nips. He loved hearing the sharp intake of breath Izuku would do. He loved feeling him beginning to squirm restlessly on the bed.
“Come back!” Izuku frowned when Shouto sat up, pulling off his own top. He shut up at his bare belly and chest. Like always, Izuku's hands reached for him, tracing down his body, the sharp planes and firm muscles of a pro hero. It was like his body was magnetic.
Shouto let him touch before catching his wrists, bringing them up over his head. He kissed down his neck again, his body not quite touching the smaller man's. He finally reached his nipples. No one else knew that Izuku had such sensitive nipples, no one else knew that he really was so delicate.
Izuku knew to leave his hands above his head. Shouto slid down, his cold hand tracing one nipple then the other. Goosebumps rose on his skin, trailing down his body. He was trembling, but Shouto knew well enough to understand this was because of being touched, not because he was cooling off.
He captured one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Izuku cried out, his eyes shutting. Shouto moved to the other nipple, never liking asymmetry. While his boyfriend was distracted, it was easy to pull down his shorts.
A naked Izuku let him know there was a God, and He was just as horny as anyone else.
“Love you,” he murmured, steam blowing against Izuku's skin, making him shudder again. He was already hard, and Shouto's mouth watered. He slid down his body and swallowed down as much of his cock as he could. Izuku shouted, his hips snapping.
Shouto kept his cool hand playing against his nipples. His warm hand captured his balls, rolling them, running against the velvety skin. Izuku was whimpering, whining, and Shouto knew without looking tears were at the corners of his eyes.
Crybaby, he thought fondly. He loved that Izuku wore his emotions on his sleeve, loved that he was so easy to read. He hallowed his cheeks and began to bob. Izuku screamed as he twisted a nipple. He knew how to play his body, and he knew that sliding one hot finger to rub against his asshole would make him come undone.
Sure enough, without even a warning, salty cum filled his mouth. He swallowed and released his softening cock with a 'pop'.
“Fuck,” Izuku said shakily.
“After a shower.” Shouto said serenely.