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The hotel door barely clicked shut before Bakugo was on him.
The moment the lock engaged, Bakugo shoved Kirishima back against the heavy wooden panel, mouths crashing together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss that tasted like rum, lime, and salt from the ocean breeze that had clung to their skin all evening. Neither of them was drunk, just pleasantly buzzed and warm, the kind of buzz that made every touch feel electric and every breath heavier.
“Fuck—been wanting to do this since you started dancing like an idiot at the bar,” Bakugo growled against Kirishima’s lips, teeth nipping sharply at the redhead’s lower lip. His hands were already yanking at the hem of Kirishima’s half-unbuttoned linen shirt, palms sliding over sun-warmed skin and hard muscle.
Kirishima laughed low and rough, the sound vibrating through both of them. “Couldn’t keep your eyes off me, huh?” His big hands gripped Bakugo’s hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he walked them backward into the suite. They stumbled together, clumsy and eager, mouths never fully separating. A lamp got knocked sideways. A decorative pillow was kicked off the edge of the couch as they moved.
Clothes came off in frantic, uncoordinated pulls. Kirishima’s shirt was yanked over his head and tossed somewhere behind them. Bakugo’s thin beach button-up was already hanging open, and the red head shoved it down his shoulders, letting it catch at his elbows before Bakugo shook it off completely. Their bare chests pressed together. Hot skin, faint sheen of sweat from the humid night, the lingering scent of sunscreen and ocean salt mixing with the sharp musk of arousal starting to build between them.
“Off—get this shit off,” Kirishima muttered, voice deeper than usual, hands already working at Bakugo’s belt. The leather slipped free with a loud whip of sound. Bakugo cursed, biting down on Kirishima’s collarbone hard enough to make the other man hiss, then groan in pleasure.
They made it as far as the wide, plush couch in the living area before Kirishima took control. With one powerful shove, he pushed Bakugo down onto the cushions. Bakugo landed on his back with a bounce, crimson eyes blazing up at him, chest heaving. His lips were kiss-swollen, hair a wild mess from the sea wind and Kirishima’s hands.
Kirishima didn’t waste time. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Bakugo’s shorts and underwear in one go and yanked. In a single swift, smooth motion, he stripped everything down Bakugo’s muscular thighs and off his ankles, tossing the bundle across the room. Bakugo’s cock sprang free, already hard and flushed dark at the tip, curving up against his stomach. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit.
“Shit, look at you,” Kirishima breathed, voice reverent and hungry all at once. He knelt between Bakugo’s spread legs, broad shoulders flexing as he ran his hands up the blond’s thighs, thumbs pressing into the sensitive inner flesh. “So fucking hard already. You need me that bad, baby?”
“Shut up and touch me Ei,” Bakugo snarled, but there was no real heat in it, only desperate want. His hips twitched upward, seeking friction.
Kirishima grinned, sharp and predatory. Instead of answering with words, he leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly up the underside of Katsuki’s cock, savoring the salty, musky taste of him. Bakugo’s hand shot into red hair, gripping tight as a guttural groan tore from his throat.
The alcohol buzz thrummed under their skin, making everything feel heightened: the cool air of the hotel room against heated flesh, the distant crash of waves through the open balcony doors, the way their bodies seemed to burn wherever they touched.
Kirishima took his time licking and sucking him, now that he had Bakugo spread out beneath him. He teased the head with slow swirls of his tongue while one hand stroked the thick base. His other hand slid lower, cupping and rolling Bakugo’s balls, then pressing a finger behind them, ghosting on his entrance without pushing in yet.
“Eijirou—fuck—please, i can’t,” Katsuki hissed, thighs trembling. His free hand fisted the couch cushion, knuckles white. Small sparks popped harmlessly from his palms, the tiny explosions fizzling out against the fabric.
Kirishima pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny. “We’ve got all night, babe. Honeymoon, remember? I’m gonna take my time wrecking you.” He nipped at the sharp cut of Bakugo’s hip bone, then soothed it with his tongue. “Want to feel every inch of you falling apart for me.”
He rose up enough to shove his own shorts and boxers down, kicking them away. His cock was thick and heavy, flushed deep red, already leaking. The size difference between them always drove them both a little crazy, Kirishima’s broader, bulkier frame hovering over Bakugo’s powerful but more compact body.
Kirishima leaned back down, catching Bakugo’s mouth in another deep kiss while his hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking them together in long, firm pulls. Pre-cum slicked the way, the obscene sound of skin on skin filling the room alongside their ragged breathing and muffled groans.
Bakugo bucked up into the grip, nails digging into Kirishima’s shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “Harder, fuck, I need more than your hand, Eijirou..”
Kirishima chuckled against his neck, biting down on the junction of shoulder and throat, hard enough to leave a claiming mark. “So greedy tonight, Kats. I love when you get like this, love that I’m the only one who can get you like this.” He shifted lower again, spreading Bakugo’s thighs wider, knees hooked over his elbows in a firm hold. His tongue traced lower, over the balls, then further, licking a slow, filthy stripe over Bakugo’s hole.
Bakugo’s whole body jerked, a broken moan escaping before he could bite it back. “F-fuck—Eijirou!”
Kirishima didn’t give him time to catch his breath.
Still kneeling between Bakugo’s spread thighs on the wide hotel couch, he hooked his powerful arms under the blond’s knees and shoved them upward and apart, folding Katsuki nearly in half. His grip was bruising, fingers digging deep into the firm muscle of those thick thighs, hard enough that the skin immediately blanched under the pressure before flushing dark red. There would be fingerprints there tomorrow, vivid purple marks that Bakugo would curse at in the mirror and then secretly press later just to feel the ache.
“Eijirou—please,” Bakugo snarled, voice already wrecked, but his hips jerked up desperately anyway, cock twitching hard against his own abs.
Kirishima’s grin was feral, teeth flashing in the low golden light of the suite. “That’s it. Keep making those sounds for me, baby.” Without another word, he dropped his head and took Bakugo’s cock into his mouth in one smooth, wet glide, sinking down until his nose pressed against the trimmed blond curls at the base.
The heat was immediate. Kirishima’s mouth was scorching, tongue flat and heavy as he swallowed around the thick length. He started slow, savoring the salty taste of pre-cum and the way Bakugo’s cock throbbed against his tongue. Then, deliberately, he activated his quirk—just a little. Tiny patches of hardening rippled across his tongue, turning the soft, plush muscle into something firmer, almost ridged, dragging roughly along the sensitive underside of Katsuki’s dick as he pulled back.
Bakugo’s reaction was instant and violent.
“Shit—fuck—!” His back arched hard off the couch, a broken shout tearing from his throat. One hand flew down to grip Kirishima’s red hair in a white-knuckled fist, the other clawing at the cushion beside him. Tiny sparks popped and fizzled from his palms, harmless but telling. His whole body shuddered, thighs trembling violently in Kirishima’s iron grip. The sensitivity was insane—every nerve ending already lit up from the alcohol buzz and the heavy makeout session, and now this? The sudden shift from soft, wet heat to hard, textured pressure made his vision spark white at the edges.
Kirishima hummed around him, the vibration traveling straight down Bakugo’s shaft, then deliberately softened his quirk again. His tongue went plush and slick once more, swirling lazily around the flushed head, dipping into the slit to lap up more pre-cum. He sucked hard on the upstroke, cheeks hollowing, before sliding back down and hardening his tongue again on the way, dragging those firm ridges right over that hypersensitive spot just beneath the head.
“Please—m-more—ahh!” Bakugo’s voice cracked. His head slammed back against the couch, neck straining, sweat already starting to bead along his collarbones and the sharp lines of his abs. The contrast was driving him out of his mind. One second it felt like getting sucked by that warm, greedy mouth he loved, the next it was like being stroked by something rough and unyielding, almost too much, bordering on overwhelming. His cock leaked steadily now, and Kirishima swallowed every drop like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
The redhead kept the rhythm mercilessly varied. Long, slow bobs with a soft tongue, then sudden hardening pulses that made Bakugo’s thighs quake and his voice break into guttural moans. All the while, Kirishima’s hands never loosened their grip. His fingers pressed harder into the meat of Bakugo’s thighs, thumbs brushing teasingly close to where his ass met his legs, spreading him even wider. The muscles in Kirishima’s shoulders and back flexed powerfully as he held the position, keeping his husband completely open and pinned for his mouth.
“You’re so fucking sensitive tonight,” Kirishima rasped when he pulled off for a moment, strings of spit connecting his swollen lips to the glistening head of Bakugo’s cock. He gave the shaft a slow, firm stroke with one hand while he spoke, thumb rubbing circles over the frenulum. “Look at you shaking. I can’t believe I got you this worked up? Or is it just knowing I’m gonna fuck you stupid later?”
“Shut—ah—shut the fuck up and suck me,” Bakugo growled, but it came out breathy and desperate. His cheeks were flushed dark, eyes half-lidded and glassy with lust. When Kirishima smirked and immediately dove back down, hardening his tongue mid-suck, Katsuki let out a loud, shameless moan that echoed through the suite. The distant sound of waves from the balcony felt like it was pulsing in time with the blood roaring in his ears.
Kirishima worked him thoroughly, alternating the quirk every few strokes, sometimes hardening just the tip of his tongue to flick rapidly against the head, other times letting the entire length of his tongue stiffen as he deepthroated him again and again. Saliva dripped messily down Bakugo’s balls, sliding between his cheeks, making everything slick and obscene. The wet, filthy sounds of Kirishima’s mouth mixed with Bakugo’s broken curses and moans, every hitch in breath, every whimper when the hardening hit just right.
Bakugo’s abs clenched hard, thighs trying to clamp around Kirishima’s head only to be shoved wider apart by those bruising hands. He could feel the pressure building fast, too fast, the heat coiling tight at the base of his spine. His cock throbbed violently in Kirishima’s mouth, the head bumping the back of the redhead’s throat over and over.
“Eijirou—fuck—I’m—shit, I’m close already—” he warned, voice raw, hips stuttering up as much as the strong grip would allow.
Kirishima only moaned encouragingly around him and doubled down—hardening his tongue completely for a long, dragging suck while one hand finally slipped lower, a thick finger circling Bakugo’s tight hole, pressing just against the rim without pushing inside yet. The combination made stars burst behind Bakugo’s eyes.
Bakugo was right there, teetering on the edge, thighs shaking violently in Kirishima’s bruising grip, his cock pulsing hard against the back of the redhead’s throat. Sparks crackled wildly from his palms as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter at the base of his spine.
Then, without warning, Kirishima pulled off completely with a wet, obscene pop, leaving Bakugo’s cock twitching desperately in the cool air, flushed dark and dripping.
A broken, frustrated whine tore from Bakugo’s throat before he could stop it—raw and needy, nothing like his usual sharp attitude. His hips jerked up into nothing, chasing the lost heat, eyes glassy with desperation.
“Eijirou, you fucking asshole—!” he snarled, voice hoarse, but it cracked into another pathetic whimper when Kirishima only chuckled low and warm.
“Shhh, calm down, baby,” Kirishima cooed, voice thick with affection and lust as he crawled up Bakugo’s body. He pressed a gentle kiss to the blond’s heaving chest, right over his racing heart. “We’ve got the whole night to ourselves. I’m not letting you cum that easy.” His large hands stroked soothingly over the trembling thighs he’d just been gripping so hard, thumbs brushing over the forming bruises with something almost reverent. “Look at you… already so worked up and we’ve barely started. So fucking pretty like this.”
Bakugo glared up at him, cheeks burning crimson, but the effect was ruined by the way his chest kept heaving and his cock continued to twitch against his stomach. Kirishima grinned, soft and lovesick, before sliding his arms under Bakugo’s back and knees. With effortless strength he lifted his husband clean off the couch, cradling him against his broad chest.
Katsuki instinctively wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck, burying his face against a sturdy shoulder as the redhead carried him through the luxurious suite toward the bedroom. The balcony doors were still open, letting in the warm night breeze and the distant rhythm of waves. Kirishima couldn’t stop staring at the man in his arms. Bakugo looked utterly blissed out already—lips swollen and shiny, eyes half-lidded, blond hair a wild mess, skin flushed all the way down his chest. A thin sheen of sweat made him glow under the low lights. They hadn’t even fucked yet, and he already looked thoroughly claimed.
“Shit… I’m so lucky,” Kirishima murmured under his breath, pressing a kiss to Bakugo’s temple. “My husband. All mine.”
He carried him into the bedroom and gently laid Bakugo down on the massive king-sized bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to heated skin. Kirishima climbed over him immediately, caging him in. He started slow this time—pressing open-mouthed kisses across Katsuki’s collarbones, then down the center of his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple until it pebbled. He moved lower, dragging his lips and teeth over the tight ridges of Bakugo’s abs, savoring every hitch in breath.
Bakugo’s hands threaded into red hair, not pulling hard this time but holding on as soft, helpless whimpers slipped from his mouth. “Eijirou… please… fuck, I need it—”
Every plea was immediately swallowed by heated kisses. Kirishima surged up to claim his mouth again and again, deep and filthy, tongues sliding together while his hands roamed everywhere, squeezing hips, stroking thighs, palming the heavy weight of Bakugo’s cock only to tease with light touches. He kept kissing lower, following the trail of fine blond hair until his mouth hovered right above Katsuki’s aching dick once more.
Bakugo’s breath caught, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. “Yes—finally, thank you—ahh—”
But instead of taking him back into his mouth, Kirishima’s strong hands gripped Bakugo’s hips and flipped him over in one smooth motion. He manhandled the blond onto his stomach, then pulled his knees up underneath him so Katsuki was face-down with his ass raised, chest pressed to the mattress.
“Eiji—!” Bakugo started, voice muffled by the sheets, but the protest melted into a shaky moan when Kirishima’s large hands spread his cheeks wide apart, exposing his tight, twitching hole to the cool air.
Kirishima leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. He blew lightly across the rim, watching with dark, hungry eyes as it clenched visibly from the teasing sensation.
“Fuck…” Kirishima groaned, voice rough with want. “Look at you. So pretty and eager.” He blew again, a little firmer this time, then dragged the flat of his tongue in one slow, broad stripe from Bakugo’s balls all the way up to his hole, savoring the musky, clean taste of him.
Bakugo’s whole body jolted, fingers twisting hard into the sheets as another broken whimper escaped him. He was painfully hard, his cock trapped between his stomach and the bed, leaking steadily onto the expensive sheets.
Kirishima kept spreading him open with both hands, thumbs pressing firmly into the firm muscle of his ass while he continued teasing, blowing cool air, then following it with the wet heat of his tongue, never quite giving enough pressure yet. He could feel Bakugo trembling beneath him, hips twitching helplessly, soft little pleas spilling into the pillow.
Kirishima couldn’t resist any longer. With Bakugo’s ass raised so perfectly in front of him, cheeks still spread wide by his strong hands, he leaned in and dragged his tongue flat and heavy over the blond’s twitching rim.
The moan that ripped out of Bakugo was so guttural and shameless that Kirishima couldn’t bring himself to tease this time. His tongue pressed inside immediately, hot and insistent, fucking into the tight ring of muscle with wet, obscene sounds. He ate him out like a man starved, licking deep, swirling, sucking at the sensitive rim before pushing his tongue back inside again and again. Every few strokes he hardened his tongue just slightly, giving Bakugo that sudden firm texture that made his entire body jerk and spasm.
“F-fuck—Eijirou—!” Bakugo’s voice was already breaking, face buried in the pillow as his hips tried to push back against Kirishima’s mouth. The overstimulation was immediate and brutal. His cock throbbed untouched against the sheets, leaking steadily, every nerve ending screaming from the earlier edging and now this relentless assault on his hole.
Kirishima groaned into his ass, the vibration shooting straight through Bakugo. One of his big hands reached underneath and wrapped around Katsuki’s aching cock, stroking it slowly—lazy, loose pulls that gave just enough friction to make him whimper but nowhere near enough to push him over the edge. He timed the strokes with the thrusts of his tongue, keeping Bakugo dancing right on that agonizing line between pleasure and desperation.
Minutes stretched as Kirishima kept eating him out messily, saliva dripping down Bakugo’s balls and thighs, switching between soft, plush licks and those sudden hardened-tongue thrusts that made the blond sob into the pillow. The strokes on his cock never sped up. Just slow, torturous drags.
Finally, Bakugo broke.
“Eijirou—please—fuck, I can’t— I need you to fuck me,” he begged, voice hoarse and cracking. “Stop teasing, you shitty redhead— just fuck me already!”
Kirishima pulled back just enough to nip at one of his ass cheeks, grinning against sweat-slick skin. “Say it nicely, baby. Gotta say please for your husband.”
Bakugo let out a frustrated, teary growl, fists clenched in the sheets. But the need won out. “Please… Eijirou, please fuck me. I need your cock—please.”
“That’s my good boy,” Kirishima praised, voice low and rough with lust. He reached over to the nightstand drawer, grabbing the bottle of lube they’d left out earlier. He slicked two thick fingers generously and pressed them inside Bakugo without warning.
The stretch was immediate. Kirishima’s hands were huge, two fingers already felt like a lot, filling him up and pressing against his walls. Bakugo moaned loudly, pushing back onto them greedily. Kirishima scissored and curled them expertly, brushing over his prostate with every thrust until Bakugo was shaking.
Then he added a third finger.
“Fuck—too much—ahh!” Bakugo cried out. The burn mixed with overwhelming pleasure, his body so sensitive from all the teasing that tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Soft sobs started escaping him as Kirishima worked those three thick fingers deeper, stretching him open, curling them relentlessly against that spot that made sparks explode behind his eyelids. His cock was painfully hard, leaking all over the sheets, but Kirishima still refused to give him any real relief.
Kirishima watched every reaction with dark, reverent eyes. “You’re doing so good for me, Katsuki. Taking my fingers so well. Look at you crying… so fucking beautiful.”
After several long minutes of fingering him open, Bakugo was a sobbing, whimpering mess. Kirishima finally took pity, he pulled his fingers free, slicking his own massive cock with generous amounts of lube, and stroked himself a few times, groaning at the relief.
“I want to see your face,” Bakugo gasped, voice wrecked. “Wanna see you while we make love.”
Kirishima’s chest tightened with affection. “Whatever you want, baby.” He gently flipped Bakugo onto his back, sliding a thick pillow under his hips to tilt his ass up perfectly. He hooked Bakugo’s legs over his broad shoulders, folding him neatly as he lined up the fat head of his cock against the loosened, slick hole.
He pushed in slowly but forcefully, inch by thick inch, stretching Bakugo open around his girth. The blond’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, tears still slipping down his temples as he was filled so completely.
Once he bottomed out, Kirishima paused, buried to the hilt, letting Bakugo adjust while he leaned down to kiss away the tears. “Breathe, love. I’ve got you.”
But Bakugo was greedy, even through the overstimulation. “Move— please im ready,” he demanded breathlessly. “Eijirou—fuck me like you mean it.”
Kirishima’s control snapped. He pulled back and slammed in hard, setting a relentless pace. His hips snapped forward with powerful, deep thrusts that drove the air out of Bakugo’s lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with Bakugo’s broken moans and Kirishima’s low growls.
He was so deep. Every thrust felt like it punched the air out of Bakugo’s throat, nailing his prostate on every stroke. The angle from the pillow combined with Kirishima’s size made it feel like he was fucking all the way into his stomach.
“Fuck—yes—right there—harder, Ei!” Bakugo sobbed, nails raking down Kirishima’s back, leaving red lines across hardened skin. His own cock bounced between them, untouched and leaking, the overstimulation making him shake uncontrollably.
Kirishima fucked him like a man possessed, deep, punishing strokes that rocked the entire bed. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Bakugo’s chest as he leaned over him, eyes locked on his husband’s tear-streaked, blissed-out face.
“That’s it, baby. Take my cock. Gonna fill you up so good tonight,” he growled, voice rough.
Kirishima’s pace was merciless, hips slamming forward with deep, powerful strokes that drove his thick cock into Bakugo over and over. The pillow under the blond’s hips kept him perfectly angled, letting every thrust drag heavily across his prostate. The wet, filthy sound of lube and skin filled the room alongside Bakugo’s broken sobs and Kirishima’s low, rumbling groans.
“Eijirou—fuck—deeper—!” Bakugo cried out, voice completely wrecked. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks as his body trembled violently beneath the much larger man. His own cock was painfully hard between their stomachs, red and leaking steadily, untouched for what felt like hours. Every brutal thrust nudged it against Kirishima’s abs, giving him just enough friction to keep him dangling on the edge of insanity.
Kirishima leaned down, folding Bakugo nearly in half as he braced his forearms on either side of his head. Their faces were inches apart, sharing hot, panting breaths. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Squeezing me like you never want me to pull out.” He growled, snapping his hips harder, grinding deep on every thrust. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll feel it for days.”
Bakugo’s eyes rolled back, a fresh wave of sobs escaping as the overstimulation pushed him past his limit. “Please—please cum inside me—Eijirou—fuck—!”
The pressure had been building for too long. Kirishima reached between them and finally wrapped his big hand around Bakugo’s cock, stroking him firmly in time with his thrusts. That was all it took.
Bakugo came with a shattered cry, back arching hard off the bed. His cock pulsed violently, shooting thick ropes of cum across his own abs and chest, some even reaching his collarbones. His hole clenched rhythmically around Kirishima’s cock, milking him with every wave of his orgasm.
“Shit—Katsuki—!” Kirishima groaned, voice breaking. The tight, fluttering heat around him was too much. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, hips stuttering as he pumped rope after thick rope of hot cum deep inside his husband. He kept grinding through it, pushing his release as far as possible, filling Bakugo until he could feel the warmth leaking out around his cock with every small movement.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, both panting heavily, bodies trembling from the intensity. Kirishima pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to Bakugo’s tear-streaked face; his temples, cheeks, eyelids, and finally his swollen lips.
“You did so good for me, baby,” he whispered tenderly, voice hoarse but full of love. “So fucking perfect.”
When Kirishima finally pulled out slowly, a thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from Bakugo’s puffy, reddened hole. The sight made Kirishima groan softly, but he pushed the arousal down for now. He climbed off the bed and returned quickly with a warm, damp towel from the bathroom.
“Easy, Kats,” he whispered. He cleaned Bakugo gently, first wiping the mess from his chest and abs with slow, careful strokes, then moving between his legs. Bakugo hissed at the contact on his oversensitive skin, but Kirishima shushed him tenderly, pressing light kisses to his inner thighs while he worked.
Once Bakugo was mostly clean, Kirishima tossed the towel aside and crawled back onto the bed. He pulled his husband into his arms, arranging them so Bakugo was draped over his chest, legs tangled together. One of Kirishima’s large hands rubbed slow, soothing circles up and down the blond’s back, while the other gently threaded through his messy hair.
“Here, drink some water,” Kirishima said softly, grabbing the bottle from the nightstand and helping Bakugo sit up enough to take several slow sips. “You cried a lot tonight, so you gotta stay hydrated.”
Bakugo drank obediently, then collapsed back against Kirishima’s broad chest with a tired sigh. His body was still trembling faintly with aftershocks, thighs sore, ass aching pleasantly.
Kirishima kept up the gentle touches. He massaged Bakugo’s shoulders and upper back, working out the tension with firm but careful pressure. His hands slid lower, gently kneading the sore muscles of his husband’s thighs where the bruises from earlier were already blooming dark. Every bruise received a soft kiss.
“I left a lot of marks on you,” Kirishima murmured, almost apologetic but mostly satisfied. “You look so good covered in them though… like you’re really mine.”
“‘Course I’m yours, dumbass,” Bakugo mumbled sleepily against his neck, but his voice was soft and raspy.
Kirishima’s chest warmed. He hugged Bakugo tighter, one arm wrapped securely around his waist while the other continued stroking his hair. “Still feels unreal sometimes. That I get to wake up next to you every day.”
They lay like that for a long while, just breathing together. The distant sound of waves drifted in through the open balcony doors, mixing with the soft hum of the air conditioning. Kirishima kept talking quietly, filling the comfortable silence with loving nonsense.
“Want me to run us a warm bath in a bit? The tub in this suite is huge. We can soak together, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”
Bakugo nodded slightly against his chest. “Yeah… in a little while. Don’t wanna move yet.”
“Whatever you want.” Kirishima reached over and pulled the thin sheet over both of them, tucking it around Bakugo’s shoulders. His hand slipped down to rest possessively over Bakugo’s lower belly, right where he’d filled him earlier.
After nearly twenty minutes of quiet cuddling and soft praise, Kirishima gently shifted them. “Let me get you something to eat. You burned a lot of energy tonight.” He reached for the room service menu on the nightstand and ordered some light snacks, fresh fruit, yogurt, and some honey toast, promising it would be quick.
While they waited, he kept Bakugo wrapped in his arms, occasionally tilting his chin up for slow, sweet kisses.
When the food arrived, Kirishima fed Bakugo small bites by hand, chuckling every time the blond grumbled about being babied but still opened his mouth anyway. They shared the plate between them, sipping more water and talking quietly about nothing important, how nice the beach had looked earlier, how ridiculous Kirishima’s dancing at the bar had been, how excited they both were for the rest of the honeymoon.
Eventually, Kirishima carried Bakugo into the luxurious bathroom and ran a warm bath, adding some soothing bath salts the hotel provided. He lowered them both into the large tub, positioning Bakugo between his legs so the blond could lean back against his chest. Kirishima washed him carefully, soaping his chest, arms, and between his legs with gentle hands, then massaging shampoo into his hair with slow, relaxing circles.
By the time they returned to bed, fresh and clean, Bakugo was half-asleep, completely relaxed and pliant in his husband’s arms.
Kirishima pulled the covers over them both and held him close, whispering one last time against his temple: “I love you, Katsuki. Get some rest.”