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The room was hot, saturated with sweat and the excitement that was slowly fading from them. Their bodies were hot, still sticky with juices and cum that they’d been too lazy to wash off their bellies. Bakugou wanted to close his eyes, rest, and feel the excitement fade away, but instead he tilted his head to the side and looked at the man lying next to him.
Sero was sitting with his back against the headboard, contentedly humming his favorite song, which he’d discovered a month ago and had been playing on repeat ever since. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth. He hated the smell, but after sex—when it allowed him to lose his words and stop thinking about all the hardships of the world—he forgave him for it. One cigarette wouldn’t harm his already fragile health. Sero ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, which was already falling onto his shoulders. He complained that he needed a haircut. He’d even already scheduled an appointment, but Bakugou had just sent him the most erotic photo he’d managed to take in the corner of the shower at his agency, while his assistants were showering just a screen away from him; and Sero very quickly forgot all about getting a haircut.
Bakugou couldn’t help but keep looking at him. Over the years they’d known each other, Sero had become incredibly manly. Not only had he grown taller and gained weight, and his long, sinewy body had a bit more muscle; the biggest change was in his skin. He’d stopped shaving. His skin was fair, but his facial hair had always been dark. In high school, he used to shave and felt embarrassed when stubble started to appear on his face the very next day. He felt ridiculous. The boys teased him, saying he was returning to the roots of his ancestors, back when people were still animals. He hated them for it and would always start cursing in his grandmother’s foreign language, which no one understood. That just made them laugh even more.
But now? No one dared to do that. After he started growing a mustache, his beard spread across his cheeks and chin as well. Soon his entire face was covered in a perfectly trimmed beard that pleasantly tickled his skin whenever he kissed him on bare skin or brushed against his stomach as he pleasured him with his mouth. Bakugou had to cross his legs as he recalled what he’d been doing to him just a few minutes ago and how he’d massaged his swollen nipples and full breasts—which he loved to knead and sing odes to, causing his face to flush. His sharp teeth stood out against his beard as he smiled broadly.
But it didn’t end there. Soon, hair began to grow on his chest, his stomach, and all the way down to the hem of his loose boxers, in which he hid his now soft and weary dick. Bakugou rolled onto his side, still naked and wet, and reached his hand toward the hem of his boxers. He began to play with the hairs that led downward. He wound them around his fingers and tugged gently.
“What are you doing?” Sero asked him with a smirk, a cigarette still in his mouth. With his free hand, Bakugou began to run his fingers through his hair.
“Nothing you wouldn’t like,” he told him cheekily.
“I’d like something else.” He pressed lightly on his head to hint at what he’d like.
“Fucking pig,” Bakugou said, looking him in the face. Sero was smiling slyly at him. “We just finished a moment ago.”
“I’m ready for another round.”
“Leave me alone,” Bakugou growled at him.
Sero tugged at his hair. Bakugou let out a wheezing sigh. “I don’t know which one of us was whining on the phone that he needed me.”
Bakugou shrugged. “Definitely not me.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He’d seen Sero’s ad for the new underwear collection. The first student in Class 1-A to decide to strut across Japanese billboards nearly naked. When Bakugou saw that ad, he couldn’t think of anything else but how he’d lean in toward him again and play with his hairy chest with his tongue, tracing a path all the way down to his crotch, where the hairs would tickle his soft skin.
“Sure,” Sero laughed, stubbing out his cigarette on the ashtray on the nightstand, then tugged on Bakugou’s hair again to force him to his knees. He pulled him close to his face and began kissing him deeply and slowly. Bakugou arched his back, rubbing his smooth, hot body against Sero’s. He dug his hands into Bakugou’s chest and tugged at his chest hair. Sero dug his free hand into Bakugou’s hip and squeezed. He loved how meaty Bakugou’s butt, chest, arms, and thighs were. Skin and flesh rolled between his fingers, and he moaned contentedly. He’d never had anyone in bed as wild and sexy as Bakugou. He was grateful that Bakugou had chosen him, of all people, to let off some steam together every now and then. Kirishima is my best friend; I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship. Denki would blab to everyone—he can’t be trusted—and besides, he’d want to be on the bottom. I need someone dominant, someone I can trust. You’re the only one who fits all those criteria, he told him back then at the bar, when they’d both had way too many shots of rum. Sero seized the moment. He had never been happier that it had happened between them back then. He had no idea it would become a tradition, with them meeting in secret at least once a week. From the moment he stopped shaving, it happened more and more often. Bakugou didn’t kick him out of the apartment after they were done; in the morning, he’d make him breakfast and bitter black tea with cream, exactly the way he loved it. He noticed the change in him when he let his beard grow. He noticed his hungry eyes whenever he rolled up his T-shirt even a little, revealing his stomach. He finally understood what Midoriya and Kirishima meant when they said that all you had to do was understand Bakugou’s language, and then he was like an open book.
Bakugou’s arousal began to rub against his dick. He moaned contentedly into their joined lips. “Round two?” Sero asked with a laugh as he pulled away from him and began kissing his neck.
Bakugou shuddered. “Don’t ask—just do it.”
Sero was more than happy to oblige.