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There’s absolutely no way Eijirou could’ve known.
It’s not like he and Katsuki have ever talked about it, because why the fuck would they? And even if the topic had come up, Katsuki’s goddamn schedule certainly wouldn’t have been a talking point.
So Eijirou pleads ignorance. Mina might remind him that ignorance of the law excuses not or something equally imperious, if Eijirou ever had a lapse of judgement large enough to confess to anyone what went down. But that’ll never happen, so Eijirou happily and enthusiastically claims innocence.
The first time, at least.
—
Eijirou’s downing a plate of chicken katsu in his living room as he waits for Katsuki to pick up the phone. Licks the sauce off his chopsticks after each bite, chugs a glass of water. It’s a delicious meal fit for a great day at the gym.
He’s just put the best piece of chicken that he saved for last in his mouth when Katsuki’s phone rings out, cutting to a deadpan voicemail that doesn’t sound too sincere.
He frowns, glancing over at the clock on the wall. It’s just gone ten pm, and it’s not like Katsuki’s an early-to-bed kinda guy. In fact, they had literally spent all night playing video games at Ochaco’s house-warming party last week, and Katsuki didn’t even yawn once. So.
Eijirou briefly entertains the idea that Katsuki’s not home, maybe still out patrolling, but he’s secure enough in his own place in their little man-ship that he’s almost positive he would’ve been home by now.
“Weird.” He says through a full mouth. When he’s finally finished his delicious meal, he goes to Katsuki’s contact and attempts to call him again.
He knows Katsuki isn’t just ignoring him either—well, maybe he would’ve back when they were first years at UA, but Eijirou would like to argue that he knows his best friend better than anyone, so purposely avoiding him is out of the question.
Eijirou doesn’t have a real reason as to why he’s trying to call Katsuki right now, actually. Sometimes it’s fun to just let conversation find itself. Maybe Eijirou could tell Katsuki all about how his workout went, or his dinner, or when he ended up in the cliché of having to rescue a cat from a tree.
Point is, he knows Katsuki would answer, but he’s not. And, yeah, Eijirou is getting a little upset about it.
Sure, it’s not like Eijirou can’t call any one of his other friends, but—
“Uh—yes? What’s. Fuck,” Katsuki says, harried, down the line. “What is it?”
Eijirou grins, the sadness receding. Katsuki’s voice, even as out of breath and strained as it is right now, is still just immediately calming.
“Jeez, someone’s in a rush. Usually, the most polite thing you do is greet me, man. What, something happen on the streets or—?” Eijirou says, getting up to wash out his dishes and taking his phone with him.
“Eijirou, I’m fuckin’ busy right now, so can you get to the point already?”
“Wow,” Eijirou tuts, “what would Mr and Mrs Bakugou think of that tone?”
“Don’t give a shit what they think. They’re in, uh. Fucking… Thailand or whatever,” Katsuki huffs.
“Thailand? What’re they doing there?” Eijirou ponders, putting away the newly cleaned dishes and leaning against his wooden counter.
“They’re on fuckin’ vacation, Eijirou. What are you calling for?” Katsuki asks, and he’s starting to sound the tiniest bit annoyed.
Which, unfortunately for Katsuki, is fucking catnip to Eijirou. Annoyed Katsuki Bakugou is easily his favorite, because it’s kinda funny to see how the tiniest things make him irritated.
“Damn. Wish I could be on a vacation right now. Hey, what do you think the best tourist spot is? You know, I’ve always wanted to go to America. Everything there is just so freaking manly, dude,” Eijirou says.
Katsuki doesn’t indulge. In fact, he sounds even more irritated, mumbling something incomprehensible before saying, very clearly, “Is anyone dying?”
“Well, people die all the time, so—”
“Is anyone you see currently actually dying?” Katsuki cuts him off tersely. “Is anyone stuck in a burning building? Hit by another shitty ass villain? No? Okay, then I’m going to hang—”
“Wait, wait, Kats, hang on,” Eijirou says, so not done talking to him. Talking? Terrorising? The lines are so blurred, Eijirou’s not sure which one’s more applicable.
Katsuki sighs, loud and dramatic. “What? What’s so fuckin’ important?”
Eijirou hums.
“Well, I kinda just wanted to tell you about my day, you tell me about yours, yadayadayada, but you’re making me a bit sus right now, man. What are you doing that’s so important?”
Katsuki sighs again, sounds defeated when he replies, “If I hang up, you’re just gonna call back again, aren’t you?”
Eijirou hums again, thoughtfully. “I don’t have a magic eight ball on me to check, but all signs are pointing to yes,” He says as smarmily as he can. “Hey, maybe if you tell me what’s got you so on edge, I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”
Katsuki’s quiet, like he’s actually thinking it over.
After an almost uncomfortably long silence, Katsuki says, “Fine. Fucking fine, y’know what? Fuck it. You wanna know what I’m doing so bad? Why I’m trying to rush you off the phone?”
“An explanation would be great.” Eijirou says, standing up straighter, like that’ll help him hear better.
“And you’ll let me hang up after? You won’t call back again tonight?”
“Scout’s honor, man!” Eijirou confirms.
“That—yeah, you being a boy scout makes a lot of fuckin’ sense.” Katsuki says. A beat of silence, and then; “Damn it. I was jerking off. Alright? And I’d like to get back to it, so if you could stop calling my fucking phone until tomorrow morning, I’d appreciate it.”
Eijrou’s pretty sure his vision whites out. Ears start ringing, fingers go numb. His mouth opens, closes, opens again. Salivary glands kick into overdrive.
Suddenly, all he can imagine is Katsuki laying on his bed naked. Or maybe still clothed? Fuck, maybe his hero costume was still on, hand shoved down his pants, so desperate to touch himself that he can’t spare a second to actually take it off. Is he still touching himself? Probably not, but maybe he’s just—holding it? Keeping himself steady? Is he still hard?
Is Eijirou talking to an aroused, fucking erect Katsuki Bakugou? A Katsuki Bakugou who is quite possibly touching his dick?
Before Eijirou can fucking reconcile that, Katsuki’s talking again.
“Hey, while we’re being honest and sharing our truths, here’s a great fun fact for you, Ei, are you ready?” Katsuki asks, voice heated and irritated and jesus christ, Eijirou’s pretty sure he’s chubbing up.
It’s obviously a rhetorical question, but Eijirou still stammers out a, “Y-Yeah. Sure. Go for it, dude. Man. Dude man.
Katsuki scoffs, bluntly says, “I jerk off every fucking night at around this time. There. It’s part of my nighttime routine, which is healthy, by the way, to have a nighttime routine, and you should know if you’re such a gym rat ass manly-man. So. It helps me fall asleep, okay?”
Eijirou blinks.
“Are you gonna say anything or just sit there waiting for me to jerk off like a weirdo?”
Eijirou blinks again.
“I mean,” Eijirou says slowly, rubbing the side of his face in complete and utter shock. “I guess I have some questions, starting with—“
“Ques—no, you don’t get to ask questions,” Katsuki interrupts, tsking. “I seem to recall you agreeing to call back later if I told you what I was doing. Pretty sure questions weren’t in the equation. Or, do you remember things differently?”
“Uh. No? No, that’s. That’s how I remember it too.”
“Okay then, I’m hanging up now. And, hey, Ei?”
“Yeah?” Eijirou replies, gnawing at the tips of his fingers.
“You can call me any time, I don’t fuckin’ care. Just, if you wanna avoid this whole awkward ass conversation, do us both a favor and don’t call around this time of night. Alright?” And to his credit, Katsuki sounds sincere. Still sounds a little annoyed, sure, but that’s pretty usual for their interactions. Endearingly annoyed, maybe. Hopefully.
Eijirou collects himself enough to snort out a laugh, aiming for the type of cool-calm-collected he’s never once in his life been. Aiming for I’m talking to my friend in the midst of his jerk off session and I’m being totally normal about it.
“Didn’t seem too awkward to me, I just. Um. Wasn’t expecting that from you, but, I don’t know. I think it’s kinda cool.” Cool? What the fuck is wrong with him. “Maybe I’ll call again.”
“I swear to fucking god, Eijirou,” He sighs. “Well, damn it. Maybe next time I’ll just keep going, huh? See how quick I can get you to regret calling.”
And, thing is, he’s joking. Obviously he’s joking. He wouldn’t just—keep jacking it. Right? That’d be—
Eijirou can feel himself getting flushed, a hot rush of blood bubbling too close to the surface.
And apparently when he blushes he gets dumb-fuck stupid, because he says, “Not gonna lie, bro, it sounds like you’re threatening me with a good time right now.”
For the second time in as many minutes, Eijirou’s ears fill with static. Difference is, this time, it’s fuelled by panic instead of confused arousal.
But—Katsuki just laughs. A genuine, probably sarcastic sound that slides between Eijirou’s ribs anyway, settling comfortably around his heart.
“You’re fuckin’ weird. But me actively holding my dick while talking to you is making this shit even more weird, so will you let me hang up now?”
Eijirou, holding his breath, starts choking on air. Has to hit his chest a few times to dislodge the wayward oxygen. His struggle to breathe just makes Katsuki laugh more.
“Dude—” Eijirou wheezes out once he’s regained some control of his traitorous lungs. “Jeez, man. Fine, hang up the phone!”
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Katsuki says, and Eijirou can hear his goddamn smirk.
And, because he’s still blushing and, therefore, still dumb-fuck stupid, Eijirou says, “And hopefully coming, too!” before slamming his thumb on the little red end call button.
He stares at his phone for one, two seconds, before damn near ripping his hair out and going to slam down another glass of freezing cold water, hoping it’ll calm the heat on his skin.
Unfortunately, as soon as he finishes that, he finds his hand has wrapped itself around his dick.
He’s never made a habit of jerking off to thoughts of his friends, but he’s only human—well. Somewhat—and is currently in possession of a very, very hot friend. Figuratively and literally. So It’s not the first time.
Not the first time he’s fucked his fist, imagining it’s Katsuki’s own. Or his mouth. Or his ass. Or any part of him, really, Eijirou’s not picky. He’d rub off on Katsuki’s armpit very happily. Would even say thank you after.
It’s different this time, though, with the knowledge that Katsuki’s touching himself right now too, just across the city.
That thought has Eijirou’s fingers tightening, so firm he almost activates his quirk, stripping himself fast and rough.
It’s only after he comes (humiliatingly quickly, teeth gritted so as to not moan a certain name that he ends up sighing out anyway) that he remembers there was an actual, legitimate fucking reason for calling Katsuki.
“God—dang it,” he sighs, moving to rub his hand over his eyes before remembering, at the last second, that his fingers are covered in come.
“Well.” He wipes his hand haphazardly on the sheet below him, and then tucks his dick back in. “Guess I’m gonna have to call back tomorrow night.”
—
He was joking. Kind of.
Eijirou wasn’t actually planning on calling back. At least, not at a very specific time of day.
But after a long shower—scrubbing dirt and grime off his skin from beating the crap out of some wannabe villain who thought it would be amusing to harass women in broad fucking daylight—he finds himself on his bed, a few minutes past ten pm, dialling Katsuki’s number.
Part of him, even while he’s punching the digits in, thinks he’s just playing a dumb prank on himself, like he’s gonna back out at the last second and call himself a pussy for not going through with it. Another part of him is certain Katsuki won’t answer.
Both parts are wrong, turns out.
He hits the final number, listens in a numb kind of shock as the line starts to ring.
“If there’s no answer, you’re gonna hang up the phone and leave it, Kirishima. You can’t cock-block your best friend, that’s serious bro code.” He mumbles to himself, biting at his lip. “In fact, just go ahead and hang up now, no harm no foul.”
He’s just about to hang up when the call’s answered.
“Fucking—yeah? What?”
And, yeah. That’s why Eijirou’s doing this, he’s reminded.
Katsuki sounds so fucking pissy already. Eijirou grins.
“Hey, Kats,” He sing-songs into the receiver, absolutely delighting in the answering groan.
“Ei, man, what the fuck,” Katsuki replies, incredulous. “You’re doing this shit on purpose. You must be doing this on purpose.”
“No idea what you mean, dude. I’m just calling my bestest friend to ask about his day.” Eijirou says, as innocently as he can manage. Problem is, it’s difficult to sound innocent while he’s already getting hard at the thought of what Katsuki’s doing.
What he might be doing. What he’s probably doing. Though Eijirou’s nearing one hundred percent sure he’s right on the money, given how out of breath Katsuki sounds.
“My day—Jesus fucking Christ, Eijirou, did you just not listen to a single fuckin’ thing I told you yesterday? Couldn’t you have at least waited, like, twenty minutes from now?”
“Hm,” Eijirou hums, plucking at a loose string on his sweats. He shuffles back against his headboard, trying to not make eye contact with his semi as he re-adjusts. “Thing is, I’ve been real busy today, y’know? Duty calls. You’ve seen the interview from today, right? And I’m going to bed soon, so. Kinda had no choice but to call now.”
Katsuki sighs, all put out in a way that absolutely gets Eijirou going. Or, more going than he already was.
“God, you’re such a shithead. Okay, fine, sure, my day was great. Would be greater if you would let me finish jerking off like a normal person.”
“Hey, no fair,” Eijirou says, clicking his tongue. “I don’t wanna hear just great, man. Tell me everything. What made it great? How is it great? What’d you do today? What—”
Katsuki just sighs louder. “Okay, maybe I didn’t make it clear enough last night for your stupid brain, but Ei—I’m like, literally mid fuckin’ jerk off right now. Like, hard, hand on dick, caught on an upstroke kind of mid jerk off.”
And, like. Eijirou knew. He knew what he was doing, waiting until now to call. He knew what Katsuki would be up to at this time of night.
He knew, but hearing it out of the proverbial horse’s mouth is an entirely different beast.
Well, he thinks feverishly, in for a fucking penny.
“Well, I stand by what I said. Tell me everything, man.” And Eijirou’s pretty sure he manages to maintain a cool, unaffected, amused tone for that one. Hard to tell for certain, though, over the thunderous beating of his heart, the rushing in his ears.
“You wanna know what’s funny?” Katsuki asks, sounding equal parts annoyed and tired.
“You know me, Kats, I love a good joke. Lay it on me.”
“I was thinking about you.”
Eijirou swears the beating of his goddamn heart comes to a screeching fucking halt. The absence of noise is deafening.
“What?” He manages after probably too many seconds of silence.
“I was thinking about you, Ei. I knew. I fuckin’ knew that you’d call again. Knew it the second I told you about my routine last night. So, yeah, I was thinking about you, wondering when my phone would ring. Even without picking up the phone, you managed to wriggle your ass into my me-time.”
If Eijirou’s brain was at all functional right now, he’d have a field day with Katsuki referring to his jacking it as ‘me-time’. As it is, though, he just swallows so hard his throat clicks.
And then, in a moment of temporary in-fucking-sanity, he says, “And… you still got hard, huh? Touching yourself, thinking about me?”
Quiet down the line. Just the soft rhythm of Katsuki’s breath, having evened out since the start of the call.
Finally, Katsuki says, soft and silky, “Damn, yeah. Guess I did.”
Isn’t that something.
Eijirou nods his head, just one up and down. Takes a second to funnel his energy into not palming himself.
“And, uh.” Eijirou tongues at a molar. Wonders how far Katsuki will let him push this. “Are you. Still?”
“What, still touching my dick? Or still thinking about you?”
Jesus fucking christ.
It’s like Eijirou’s suddenly parched. Like he’s walked through the goddamn—desert, or something, for the past year, with the way his mouth’s gone dry.
Kind of fucking embarrassing, and Eijirou has to clear his throat before he replies with, “I mean, it’d be great to know the answer to both, if you’re willing to tell me.”
All it takes is one tut from Katsuki and Eijirou knows he’s fucked up. Walked into the lion’s den. Poked the bear. Punched the wasp nest? All he knows is, suddenly, he’s been assigned prey in this encounter.
“I’m not offering anything up for free, asshole,” Katsuki replies, voice lower than it was five seconds ago. “Maybe I’m looking for a trade.”
Eijirou swallows, risks a glance down at his dick, pathetic in its eagerness. Looks up again before it takes the attention as encouragement.
“A—okay, a… trade. What are we talking here? A trade of information?” Eijirou asks, too turned on to be embarrassed by the way his voice has gone all husky, tone matching Katsuki’s instinctively. He tries unsuccessfully to loosen his grip on his phone, fingers having gone numb from how tense his body is.
“Yeah, maybe,” Katsuki says, like the cryptic guy he is. “Answer the questions first, then I’ll tell you.”
Eijirou inhales slowly, jaw clenched tight to keep from begging Katsuki to just put him out of his fucking misery already.
“Well, uh,” he starts, “I’m pretty much nothing if not fair and equitable, so. Alright. Am I thinking about you? I mean, pretty hard to not think about the person you’re literally, actively talking to.”
“Well, yeah, you fuckin’ dummy. Obviously I mean specifics. Tell me.”
“Okay, yeah, I can do specifics.” Eijirou says. Holy shit, he whispers to himself, resisting the urge to throw himself out the window.
Fucking angel that he is, Katsuki doesn’t mention it. He just says, “Well? I’m waiting.”
Eijirou sighs, loud and dramatic. “You know I’m thinking about you jerking off, man. What else would I be thinking about, huh? Your eyes? My favorite aspects of your personality? How freaking awesome you look in your hero costume?”
Katsuki laughs, bright and loud. “I don’t need to hear that from you, I already know how fuckin’ awesome I am.”
“Yeah, well. You don’t have to rub it in, dude. You know, if you weren’t so short-tempered, you’d probably be back in the top ten on the rankings just for your looks. Maybe even number one. But that’s, um. Just from what I’ve seen.”
Fucking wow.
Eijirou cringes inwardly, hyper-aware of how big and fat and juicy his crush on Katsuki must look right now, to the man himself. Off the rails doesn’t even begin to describe the situation Eijirou’s in, and, depressingly, he has no one to blame but himself.
Sure, Katsuki has to have been at least peripherally aware of at least some of Eijirou’s feelings toward him before tonight. The amount of times Eijirou’s clocked Katsuki clocking the way Eijirou can’t help but watch him—it’s. Innumerable.
But it’s different, now Katsuki actually knows. If nothing else, he now knows that Eijirou wants to fuck him. He wants to fuck him so bad, it’s not funny. Eijirou takes solace in the fact that Katsuki has no way of knowing that Eijirou’s most of the way in love with him.
“For your sake, I’m choosing to ignore your stupid mouth saying I have a hot temper.” Katsuki sounds smug when he says, “And the other question?”
“What’s—oh, am I touching myself?”
Eijirou glances down, just to double-check before he tells Katsuki that he isn’t, but—to his absolute shock, he sees that his hand that’s not currently got the phone in a chokehold is, indeed, palming his cock over his sweats.
Eijirou’s pretty sure he lets out an undignified gasp, hand flying off his dick almost quicker than he can comprehend.
“No, uh—no, no I’m.” He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, isn’t surprised when it doesn’t work. “Now I’m not.”
Katsuki huffs out a quiet breath down the line. “You should get better at lying. A couple seconds ago? Were you?”
“Listen, man,” Eijirou starts, heart pounding. “The Eijirou of a couple seconds ago is a completely different man and, honestly? I feel like it’d be unfair to hold the Eijirou of right now, accountable for his actions.”
Katsuki hums, a knowing, condescending noise that kick-starts a wave of heat creeping up Eijirou’s neck.
“So,” Katsuki drawls, like he’s got all the time in the world now. “You wanna know my answers?”
Eijirou licks at his lips, trying to get his head back into the game. The game of—what? Of annoying Katsuki? Of interrupting Katsuki’s jack off sessions with stupid fucking conversation? Was it to punish himself for maintaining such an unattainable crush for years?
What was the goal here? He honestly can’t recall. Eijirou’s always gotten dumb as all hell when he’s horny, so it’s no real surprise this has gone so far off the rails.
He feels delightfully wrong-footed, drunk on the shift of power from him to Katsuki. Katsuki’s the one leading them in this, a concept that usually has Eijirou’s skin crawling. He’s never been one to fall into any submissive roles, in or out of fucking, but—
But he’s finding, as with most things, it’s different with Katsuki.
Eijirou’s itching to roll over, to metaphorically (and literally, unsurprisingly) kneel at Katsuki’s feet, ready to accept whatever he wants to dole out.
Doesn’t mean he’s gonna make it easy for Katsuki, though. Eijirou’s always prided himself on being an annoying little fuck.
“Your answers,” Eijirou repeats, “I’m pretty sure I know your answers, Kats. You were touching yourself, and you’ve already told me you were thinking about me before I called. That’s it, right? Or,” he says, conspiratorial, “are you still touching yourself? Is that the top-secret trade information? Jeez, man, have you been quietly jacking it to my voice this whole time?”
Katsuki just exhales quietly, makes a sound that, Eijirou would testify in a court of law, sounds real fucking suspiciously like a soft moan.
And. Goddamn shit.
Eijirou clenches his jaw, hand settling just above his tell-tale fucking boner. He can’t hold back the words that bubble up.
“Katsuki, bro. Dude. Are you—you’re really still jerking off right now, aren’t you?”
Katsuki doesn’t answer that, just says, “Shut up. I’m looking for a different trade now. Interested?”
“Yeah, I’m interested.” Eijirou doesn’t hesitate. Almost says it before Katsuki’s finished speaking.
“Alright. Ask me again.”
Eijirou has to bite his lip hard to hold back the groan threatening to escape his throat. Katsuki ordering him around is really goddamn working for him, apparently.
“Are you touching yourself, Kats?” He asks, voice dropping low.
Another barely-there, almost deniable moan down the line. It pulls low in Eijirou’s gut, and he grinds his molars together to keep an answering noise in.
Katsuki shoots back, “Are you?”
Eijirou looks down and, yep. Like expected. That’s a hand on a dick. His hand on his dick, specifically, once again without his explicit permission.
He’s not under any misconceptions that Katsuki doesn’t also have a hand on his own dick right now, that’s not what gives Eijirou pause. It’s more that—it feels like there’s no going back after this, not to their version of a normal friendship.
Although, christ, it’s not like there’d be any going back to normal after Katsuki oh so plainly and bitchily told Eijirou about his jerk-off routine last night, anyway. Eijirou wouldn’t be able to scrub that knowledge out of his brain with stainless fucking steel wool, so maybe he just needs to lean into it.
And Eijirou’s pretty good at leaning into shit.
He squeezes himself, fingers wrapped firmly around his length. Over the fabric of his sweatpants, the touch is dulled just enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s in imminent danger of coming, which is a small fucking mercy.
A small mercy, until Eijirou’s hand decides to let go, shoving his sweats down just enough that his cock springs up, so fucking hard and on its way to dripping, for all the world to see.
Wrapping his fingers around himself, bare skin on bare, overheated skin this time, he keeps his exhale slow and measured when he replies, “God. Yeah, I-I am.”
“Fuck. Stop,” Katsuki says softly down the line, and Eijirou can picture with perfect clarity the look on the guy’s face right now. Smug, confident, in control. Fucking cocky. Eijirou witnessed that exact look on Katsuki’s face on numerous occasions every time they’d do hero work together. God, he was so fucking hot. Every time, he was so fucking hot.
It’s not like Eijirou likes following commands, alright, it’s not in his DNA. Never has been. He’s the one giving orders. He plans and orchestrates and doles out instructions, and he’s never the one fucking listening to them.
So it’s all the more surprising when Eijirou, without thinking, lets go of his dick immediately at Katsuki’s words, hand balling into a fist at his side.
Okay, sure, he followed Katsuki’s order, fine, but he draws the line at fucking whimpering. So that’s exactly what he doesn’t do, when the pressure of his hand is suddenly gone from his cock.
He must make some noise, though, because Katsuki huffs out a quiet laugh, one that breaks Eijirou out in goosebumps. With the phone right on the pillow, next to his face, and with his eyes closed, it’s like Katsuki’s right there, breathing into Eijirou’s ear.
“Good fuckin’ boy,” Katsuki murmurs, “listening to me so well.”
The goosebumps prickling at Eijirou’s skin morph into hives real fucking quick.
He’s never been called a goddamn good boy. That’s what he calls the people he fucks, sometimes, if they do what he says. If they earn the title.
But somehow, it’s what he’s imagining Katsuki calling him now. Grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, whispering those two words into his ear. Moaning them as he spreads Eijirou’s thighs, sinking in nice and easy. Praising him with them while Katsuki’s rough hands clean them both up afterwards.
But to hear Katsuki say it, in real life, in real time—
It should rankle more than it does, honestly. Maybe the most irritating part of it is how little it irritates Eijirou. How it teeters on the edge of discomfort, the type that slides down his spine, so cold that it almost burns.
But just because Katsuki, easily, has the ability to make Eijirou go easy, doesn’t mean Eijirou’s going to.
“W-What about you?” He asks once he’s managed to unclench his jaw enough to get the words out.
“What about me, what?” Katsuki replies, and Eijirou can hear the smile in his voice.
“It’s a trade, right? So if I can’t touch myself, neither can you.” But, hand to god, right now Eijirou wouldn’t be able to recite even the simplest definition of the word trade. His brain is about as switched off as it ever has been, all of his awareness of space and time and fucking—words dulled into non-existence. Doesn’t know if what he said even makes sense.
Right now, his brain is just a steady stream of Kats, touch, good boy, Kats, please, Katsuki.
Katsuki’s laughter echoes down the phone line, all gently mean.
“Hm,” Katsuki hums, like he’s considering Eijirou’s words. Then he clicks his tongue, continues, “Well, thing is, Ei, I never said that was the trade, did I?”
Eijirou stares down at his dick, straining and neglected and not at all put off by Katsuki’s no-contact command.
“I hate to be a stickler for rules and stuff, Kats, you know how I feel about them, but—” Eijirou swallows, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Aren’t trades usually, uh. Fair? Equal?”
That earns him another laugh. “Eijirou, I’m not the one that agreed to a trade without knowing what it was. Smart guy like you didn’t ask for any details. Here’s the deal, are you listening?”
Eijirou has to hold back the whine in his throat, surprised at the condescension dripping from Katsuki’s words. Is shocked all over again at how much control he’s let himself give up during this goddamn phone call. At how much it’s working for him.
Doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he hums out something that must sound like confirmation, because Katsuki continues.
“This is the second fuckin’ time you’ve interrupted me, and we both know this time was on purpose, you shithead, so I’m thinking that I’ll keep going and you can listen. Like, only listen, no touching, got it? Because it’s my time, not yours. Does that sound fair and equal to you?”
Katsuki’s voice is low and rough but silky and Eijirou can’t help but wonder where the hell he got this from. As far as Eijirou knows, Katsuki has never been in a relationship, all his choice. It’s not like he can’t easily snag any woman or man he wants to, because he fucking knows he’s attractive. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have such a big ego.
Maybe it’s the exception, then, not the rule, because he’s super fucking into Katsuki taking control right now. And maybe that’s okay, because he trusts Katsuki.
So Eijirou loosens the fist clamped desperately around his heart, and cedes a little more power.
“Yeah, okay,” he replies, tucking his balled up hand under his blanket to lessen the temptation. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, off of dick, he thinks to himself manically. Huffs out a laugh, says, “When you put it that way, I guess that does make sense.”
“Of course it makes sense,” Katsuki says, and it’s like he’s suddenly turned up the volume of the hand on himself, or else is holding his phone right next to his cock or something, because Eijirou can hear him. He can hear Katsuki jerking off and, jesus fucking christ. Jesus christ.
“And that’s what you wanted, right?” Katsuki continues, voice alarmingly calm and steady considering how hard he’s stripping himself right now. “You wanted to interrupt me, ruin my me-time again. Maybe it was less about just interrupting, though, huh? Maybe it was more because you just wanted to hear me, like a fuckin’ slut. Have you been straining to listen, Ei? Desperate to know what sounds I make when I touch myself?”
Eijirou exhales roughly, hand twitching under the blanket. So fucking much for out of mind.
When he doesn’t reply, too caught up in watching the little bead of precome collect at the tip of his pathetic fucking dick, Katsuki continues.
“Ah, see. Now you wanna be all quiet and shit? No, you don’t get to do that. Talk to me since you want to so fuckin’ bad. You’re not touchin’ yourself right now, are you?”
That gets Eijirou talking. “No, I’m not. I’m not, because you’re being totally mean right now, man, and this is so not fair,” And because he’s horny and barrelling straight into dumb-fuck stupid territory, he keeps going. “But I guess it is kinda interesting, that this is doing it for you. Jerking off with your friend on the phone. I’m not surprised you’re into the dominant kind of stuff but, since when were you into guys?”
Katsuki makes a considering sound, finally starting to sound out of breath when he replies, “Never said I wasn’t, did I dumbass? Just ‘cause girls go brainless around me doesn’t mean I indulge in that shit. Same with guys. I just like what I like, that so hard to understand? Obviously I wouldn’t be doing this with you if I didn’t like you. Think I finally started to come to terms with that after the war. Had way too much time in the hospital to think about shit, like you.”
What a confession.
He grits his teeth, hips twitching up without his permission. Without any relief either. The war thing made him realize stuff too. Not in the moment, obviously, because he was shit-scared and convinced his best friend turned crush was gonna fucking die right then and there. But, after? Seeing as he quite literally saved not only Japan but the whole world? And didn’t even brag about it? It did it for the whole universe, so of course it did it for Eijirou.
Surprising, though, that Katsuki’s been thinking about it. Before tonight, Eijirou would’ve gone to the grave with full and unwavering confidence that Katsuki Bakugou, renowned ladies’ man, was as impossible as they come.
Eijirou swallows. His voice is more uncertain than he’d like when he says, “You’ve been thinking about this?”
“Just said I have, Ei,” Katsuki replies, Eijirou’s name cut off by a sweet little moan. More wet skin-on-skin sounds down the receiver. More saliva in Eijirou’s mouth. “Wait, no, I haven’t thought about this specifically. You calling me to be a little shit? This wasn’t the plan, but I’m good at improvising. No, I’ve been thinking about you. Too fuckin’ much, it’s getting annoying.”
Eijirou’s surprised intake of breath at Katsuki’s words must’ve been audible and so fucking telling, but he just barrels on like it didn’t happen. “I—other than saying I’m flattered, Kats, I don’t really know what else to say. Hospital must’ve given you a shit ton of pain meds for you to be saying this to me right now, there’s gotta be some still leftover in your body.” He is, he really fucking is, but he holds tight to the sarcasm, the familiar shield of it. “But I’m, um. I’m all ears if you want to tell me more.”
“Nah, how about you tell me what you’ve been thinking about first?”
“Hey, now who said I was thinking about you, too?”
Katsuki laughs, breathy and beautiful. “Seriously, you fuckin’ suck at lying. I think you’ve been thinking about me for a while now. Judging by the way you look at me with those big fuckin’... puppy eyes of yours, I’m pretty sure you’ve thought about me for years. If you tell me I’m wrong, it’ll be the third time you’ve lied on this call.”
Eijirou digs his fingernails hard into the palm of his hand, nearly entirely consumed by the need to touch himself. To hang up the phone. To do something.
“No, you’re not wrong,” he admits quietly, biting at the inside of his cheek. Equal parts fucking humiliating and freeing to be admitting it, this thing that he’s kept safe deep in his ribcage for so long, protected by bones and sinew.
“So, tell me,” Katsuki says, just as quietly. Gently, like he’s aware of how splayed open Eijirou feels right now.
And it’s like a dam breaking, the way the words flood from Eijirou mouth.
“Fuck, Kats, you’re—you drive me crazy, just look at you. You’re so good, like you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And you’re so fucking hot, man, it’s insane. Everytime I see you in that costume, saving people and beating ass with those manly muscles—fuck, even when I just see you as you, I just… I don’t know what to do with myself. Yeah, I look at you, man, it’s impossible not to. You’re sexy and hot and—and strong and funny and caring when you need to be. And so fucking hot, did I mention that?”
“Think you did,” Katsuki confirms, a laugh hiccupping into a moan.
“And—and I think about you constantly. Even when I’m around you. Fuck, especially when I’m around you. I think about your ass, like, a lot. It’s fucking criminal, man. Your hands—Kats, your fucking hands?Are you kidding me? You have no idea what I want from you, man.”
Katsuki hums, a dirty, slutty little sound that vibrates against Eijirou’s pillow through the phone, travels straight down to his dick like a goddamn pipeline.
“What do you want from me, Ei? Tell me now,” he demands, a whole lotta confidence injected into the words, like he’s not currently jacking it to Eijirou’s voice.
The command sinks deep into Eijirou’s bones, and he’s split between rolling over and biting back. If someone he was fucking talked to him like that, he’d bite hard. Stares at his dick some more. If he submits to Katsuki’s little power-play, there’s more of a chance he’ll get to come soon, so. Easy decision, as far as Eijirou’s concerned.
So he leans his head back, shuts his eyes tight, and tells the full, undiluted truth of it all.
“Every time I’ve thought about you before this call, Kats, I thought—I thought about how much I’d wanna fuck you, but. Damn it. I want you to fuck me, ‘tsuki. Want you to fuck me so bad, Jesus christ, man, it’s all I can think about now. Your ass is fucking insane, I wanna—and, and you’re always wearing those stupid baggy clothes knowing what you’re hiding underneath, fucking abs and biceps galore—god, it’s so hot, Kats.”
Katsuki groans, loud and wanton. “Shit, gonna—I’m, I’m close,” he gasps out. “Ei, what would you want me to do if you were here? Right next to you, like I know how bad you want.”
Eijirou digs his fingernails deeper, wonders distantly if it’d be possible to come like this. Untouched, purely from the sound of Katsuki’s little, rattled breaths from his permanently damaged lungs, his whimpers, the sound of him fucking his fist.
“If I was there with you,” he starts, letting himself imagine it. Something he’s thought about for a long goddamn time, it’s not hard to conjure the scene up in his mind. “God, Kats, if I was there with you I’d—fuck, I’d kiss you. Been wanting to kiss you for years, y’know.”
Katsuki’s next moan sounds like it’s been shocked out of him. “You’d—yeah, shit, okay, fuckin’ kiss me, please, baby.”
Holy shit, holy shit.
“I would, ‘tsuki, I’d kiss you until you were begging me to touch you, and then I’d—“
“Would you let me touch you Ei? Would you—shit, god—would you let me flip you over so I could fuck you?”
Eijirou swallows hard, images flashing so fast behind his eyelids that he has to open them, blink back the onslaught of emotions.
He shakes his head. “No, I wanna see you when you—when you fuck me,” he replies, low and embarrassingly husky. “I wanna watch your face, wanna kiss you while you’re stretching me.”
Katsuki’s making these beautiful little ah, ah, ah noises like he’s actually fucking into Eijirou and it’s too much, too unusual from his usual set of noises that come from his mouth which isn’t fucking this, and Eijirou’s pretty fucking certain he’s actually going to come, and then all he can do is listen, enraptured, because that’s—
That’s Katsuki coming, moaning out, “Shit, Ei, god, oh my fuckin’ god, holy shit,” straight into Eijirou’s ear and, christ, if Eijirou from eight years ago could see him now. Fuck, Eijirou from five hours ago would be pretty fucking shocked, too.
Katsuki’s breaths start slowing, and Eijirou’s so focused on not blowing his load that he welcomes the relative silence, for once doesn’t feel the need to fill it.
It’s quiet down the line for a few beats, and then Katsuki lets out a laugh, the one he usually does in conjunction with dragging a hand through his hair, though he’s pretty sure Katsuki would be avoiding doing that if his hand is as jizz-covered as it is in Eijirou’s imagination.
“Holy shit. What the fuck, Eijirou, that was fuckin’ insane—” Katsuki stops, laughter cut short. “Damn, I’m leavin’ you hanging. Sorry, I just—fuck.”
It’s Eijirou’s turn to laugh, high and reedy and a touch desperate. “No, man, I’m just trying not to bust over here, no big deal, take all the time in the world.”
Katsuki snorts. “I could, but I’ve probably tortured you enough for one night, huh?”
And it’s fucking mortifying, how much Eijirou disagrees. How much he wants Katsuki to step back into the dominant role, to tell Eijirou he’s not allowed to jerk off for the rest of the night. Fuck it, he could tell Eijirou he’s not allowed to come for the rest of the week, and Eijirou would (begrudgingly, sure) agree to it.
But it’s also—so fucking nice to hear Katsuki’s normal cadence return through the phone. Makes it real. Solidifies the fact that Eijirou just heard his best friend Katsuki Bakugou jerk off, makes it less of a fever dream, conjured up by Eijirou’s horny brain.
“Fuckin’ hell. Give me like, thirty seconds to calm down. That was crazy.” Katsuki says.
Eijirou can’t help himself. “Yeah, ‘course. Um, any chance I can touch myself now? Or do I still need your permission to handle my own dick?”
“Mm, I don’t know, Ei. You think you’ve earned that?”
And doesn’t that just send a jolt straight to Eijirou’s cock.
He licks his lip, the hand he’d been hiding under his blanket coming up to rest low on his abdomen. Unclenching his fist is a challenge, muscles tight from however fucking long they were tensed for.
His pinky finger skirts the top of his pubes, the sensation of back-forth-back-forth along sensitive skin nearing on hypnotic.
Maybe that explains the temporary insanity that leads him to reply, “I’ve been good.”
He doesn’t mean to say it. He’s not fucking good. Okay, yes, he followed Katsuki’s orders, fine, but he was indulging Katsuki’s little scene. He was humoring him. Scene's over now, so. No need to keep—
“Oh, okay,” Katsuki hums, tone dropping low again, his usual cadence out the window in favour of what is apparently his bedroom voice. “You think you were a good boy, huh?”
Eijirou can’t hold back the whimper this time, it slips out unbidden and completely non-consensually. He clamps his jaw shut tight, thinks he’ll probably have to off himself if he starts a habit of whimpering during sex.
Luckily, Katsuki takes pity on him and doesn’t press him for a response.
Unluckily, what he does say just makes matters worse for Eijirou.
“Hm,” Katsuki starts, clicking his tongue. “I don’t know. Were you a good boy? You were kind of a mouthy little bitch, Ei, and this whole thing started because you wanted to be funny and fuck with my routine. Does that sound like you on your best behavior?”
Eijirou opens his mouth to respond, weak denials at the ready, but Katsuki doesn’t let him get a word in.
“Fuck, I guess you did listen to me, didn’t you? You didn’t touch yourself, you let me have my time like I told you to. Yeah, fine, sure. Sure, Ei, touch yourself.” Katsuki says, all magnanimous and shit, and Eijirou’s never moved quicker.
He gasps when his palm finally wraps around his dick, fingers squeezing tight, too tight, but he’ll be fucked if he’s gonna let himself shoot off right now. He’s sure as shit no two pump chump, can’t let Katsuki think he is.
“That good?” Katsuki asks down the line, voice low. “Start slow.”
Eijirou breathes in, breathes out. Centers himself before starting up a slow pace, his dick fever-hot in his hand.
“‘S good,” he says, doesn’t have it in him to clear his throat so it comes out gravelly and deep.
“Spit,” Katsuki says, and Eijirou doesn’t have the brainspace to know what the fuck he’s talking about, so he hums out a nondescript sound. Thankfully, Katsuki elaborates. “Spit in your hand, Ei. Get it all nice and wet.”
Eijirou doesn’t point out that with the sheer amount of precome he’s been leaking during this entire phone call, spit actually isn’t necessary at all. No, instead, his hand reluctantly parts ways with his dick, and he cups his hand under his mouth, collecting spit just like Katsuki asked. Like a fucking good boy, jesus fucking wept.
Makes it loud and obnoxious, not sure if it’ll gross Katsuki out or turn him on.
“Fuck, yeah, good, that’s good, baby,” Katsuki breathes. That’s that mystery solved, then.
He starts up a steady rhythm again, pretty confident that if he paces himself, he can make this last.
“Wanna know what’s funny?” Katsuki starts, conversational in a way that Eijirou fears spells trouble. “You were talking about wanting me to fuck you, how you wanted me to—what’d you say? You wanted me to stretch you open?”
Eijirou’s hand squeezes involuntarily, and he bites back a moan. “Yeah, I want it, please.”
“It’s just interesting, because, I’ve always wanted the same. Whole time we’ve been calling, seems like we want the same things. And you’ve been saying all this shit, how I’m so fuckin’ hot and sexy and how my muscles are so strong and whatever, but goddamn it, Ei, I hate how you don’t even realize how hot you are. It’s fuckin’ irritating, actually. Shit. Maybe I’ve just gotta fuck you until you figure it the hell out.” And it’s said so casually, like it’s not shaking the entire foundation of Eijirou understanding of his own sexual preferences and views of himself.
It’s not like he doesn't know he’s attractive. To men, mostly, according to his fan base. But everything isn’t about him, right? It’s not like he can go around flaunting about how manly he is with his rock hard abs and killer teeth and bouncing pecs. It’s easier for him to acknowledge everyone else. Plus, it makes people smile.
But Katsuki, right now, is twisting his viewpoint in ways he didn’t know was possible.
Which makes it all the more interesting that Eijirou’s body decides to react to Katsuki’s words with the sluttiest, neediest moan he’s ever heard come out of his mouth. Of anyone’s mouths, actually.
So he moans, and Katsuki hears it, obviously—Eijirou will be lucky if his fucking neighbours didn’t hear that one—and Katsuki grabs onto the thread. Pulls, unravelling Eijirou inch by glorious inch.
“Shit, I’m right, aren’t I?” Katsuki says, sounding delighted. “You’re such a fuckin’ airhead, Eijirou. ‘Course you would do that, look at everyone else but yourself. Well, guess what? I’m gonna tell you what everyone else is always thinking.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I—tell me, tell me please.”
“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Ei. Not just physically, either. Known it since highschool. Seen you since highschool—actually saw you. Fuck, I couldn’t believe how fuckin’ beautiful you were, it kinda pissed me off, ‘cause I didn’t think I could have you then. My stupid ass ego getting in the way of showing me what I really wanted. I didn’t know I wanted you that much until. Fuck. I guess until Shigaraki banged me up so bad, my brain reset. And it’s the same for me, you know? When I see you now. I see someone I want. Someone a lot of extras want. Can’t believe I’m about to tell you this shit but, it makes me a little jealous, Ei.” And the way that Katsuki says it, so blunt, so matter of fact, it has Eijirou’s hand speeding up, thumb digging into his slit on the upstroke.
“So—damn it. If you can’t understand that then, yeah, I’ll just fuck you until you do. That’s what you want, yeah? You want me to use my fingers first, get you ready for me? Just one to start with, I’ve got a feeling it’s been a while for you.” There’s a wet sound, and Eijirou only just recognises it as Katsuki spitting into his palm, and, shit, okay, he’s jerking off again, fuck. “Or, maybe not? I don’t know. ‘m learning a lot more about you based on this call.”
“No,” Eijirou denies, breath hitching as he strips himself. There’s precome and spit dripping over his fist, and a tightness in his gut that he’s very familiar with. “No, I don’t—I’ve never—”
“Damn, really? I’d be your first, then. You’d want that too, huh? My fingers? Tell me. Just say it.” Katsuki goads, and Eijirou can hear the sound of him jerking off, wet and fast and dirty.
The cognitive dissonance of this entire fucking conversation is almost nauseating in its beauty. Makes it impossible for Eijirou to force out the words Katsuki's telling him to say, so he whimpers instead. Fucking whimpers. Again.
“C’mon, Ei, fuckin’ say it. Tell me you want that. Big, strong guy like you, can’t be too hard.”
“Oh fuck,” Eijirou gasps out, barrelling towards the finish line. The proximity to his impending orgasm loosens the words from his chest. “Yeah, I want it, I—‘tsuki, I want you to—please fuck me, make me—please—”
“Shit, you don’t have to beg, baby,” Katsuki coos, soothing. It’s different and delicious and Eijirou savors it. “I’ll fuck you real good. I’ve got you, just come for me, alright?”
And, god fucking damnit, Eijirou does. Like some common harlot, as soon as Katsuki tells him to, Eijirou comes in thick, hot ropes. Like all his body was waiting for was permission, and isn’t that just great.
He’s trying and failing to regulate his breathing, chest heaving and covered in jizz, as he listens to his best friend come for the second time tonight. Katsuki groans, long and so fucking sexy that Eijirou’s dick is twitching in his hand, hasn’t even had time to go soft. It’s overwhelming, and Eijirou has to move his phone away from him slightly, just until Katsuki finishes up, because otherwise Eijirou’s dick might literally fall off as a result of such rapid blood flow changes.
When he figures it’s safe, he lifts the phone to his ear. Katsuki is panting still, but he’s laughing softly again.
“Jeez, Kats, do you get the giggles after every orgasm or am I special?” Eijirou asks, clearing his throat to dispel the horny-croakiness. “Is jizz just that funny to you?”
Katsuki snorts, and just like that, he’s back to Regular Katsuki speak. “Nah, sorry, I just can’t believe we actually just did that.”
“Oh. Yeah, me neither.” Eijirou says, smiling. “Never thought you’d be the type to enjoy this kind of stuff. Especially with me. I just—um. This was something I really have ever dreamed about. And woke up with my dick ready to be used as a weapon, so—”
“You’re so fuckin’ weird, holy shit,” Katsuki interrupts Eijirou’s flow with his laughter, and it’s music to Eijirou’s ears. “Can’t believe I like you this much. Consider yourself lucky, Riot, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted. Tell anyone that and you’re dead.”
Eijirou’s jokey-joke mood gets quickly smothered by sharp shock. “You. Sorry, you’ve never liked anyone before? Like, not even one of those silly primary school crushes?” He sits up straight on his bed, staring unblinking at the wall across from him. The come on his stomach is drying, cooling off, and without looking, Eijirou scrubs at it with the corner of his blanket. It’s fine, he has like, fifty more Crimson Riot blankets.
There’s a pause down the line, before Katsuki says, voice verging on bitchy. “You kiddin’ me? Back then, I was only focused on one thing and that was being the number one hero. Clearly, didn’t work out, but. I don’t really give a damn. I’m still doing what needs to be done. What, you really think I’m just attracted to anyone with a nice face?”
And that’s a good question. “I don’t know. I don’t know! Just, like… I find it hard to believe that I’m what did it for you, Kats. You’ve really never had anyone who’s compared? Never fallen in love with anyone else, even for like, five minutes? Not that I’m, like, bringing myself down. It’s just—wow.”
It takes a second for what he said to catch up with him but, yep, he did just suggest that Katsuki might be in love with him. In a circuitous, convoluted way, sure, but it was definitely in there.
And of course Katsuki notices, the perceptive fucker. “Love, huh? You think I’ve never been in love before?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, I just—I don’t know, man, have mercy on me, Kats.” Eijirou gives up, unsure whether the pressure on his chest is panic or relief.
Katsuki just huffs out a breath. “Chill out, you dumbass. God, this is so fuckin' corny, but—look. I have. Pretty sure that’s what I’m feeling right now, so. I’ve never—I didn’t have this stupid feeling in my chest before I met you. You’re it for me, Ei. I don’t know what else you want to hear.”
Oh, god. “Oh, god,” Eijirou groans, covering his face with his arm. “I didn’t expect this to end with confessions, Kats. I’m literally still covered in come, that’s not fair. At least let me clean up first.”
Eijirou can hear the grin in Katsuki’s voice when he says, “Better get used to it, then. Guess you fucked around and found out, huh?”
Eijirou has no excuse for how flustered that makes him, so he stamps it down, looks for an escape route.
“Y’know, I should probably get in the shower. Yeah, that’s. What I need to do because, you know, Fatgum needs me early tomorrow, so. Duty calls.”
“That so? Duty calls. Jesus christ, you sound like Batman.” Katsuki says, laughing. “Shit, can’t believe I’m gonna ask you out on a date.”
“Oh, jeez, you won’t guess who’s calling me right now. It’s Fatgum.” Eijirou says, projecting his voice. “It’s probably, like, really important so I should probably pick it up. And then get in the shower. And then dwell on the fact you just said you’re gonna ask me on a date.” Eijirou's grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.
“Right.” Katsuki snorts. “Let me know when you’re done with this stupid ass roleplay and then we can discuss that, weirdo.”
Eijirou feels his cheeks heat up, and there’s still crusted come on his stomach that didn’t wipe off, and the hand that’s not clutching his phone is tacky with dried spit and Katsuki is saying these fucking things and wanting to take him on a date and Eijirou can’t stop smiling, so he says, “Well, man, good chat. Good talk, I’m gonna. Go. So, I’ll—I’ll talk to you later!”
“I swear to god if you don’t call me back after this, Ei. Ten pm tomorrow.”
“Okay, yeah, bye!” Eijirou shouts, hanging up faster than the speed of light. Katsuki’s voice echoes in his ears.
It’s an hour later, after a very needed rinse off and a change of bedding, that Eijirou realizes his mistake.
“What the hell,” he mutters, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow, his damp hair a mess. Comes to terms with the fact that he never reciprocated how Katsuki felt. Well, he did, but not enough. Not like how it should be. God, he’s such an idiot. Since when did he get so flustered easily? He’s literally the fucking Red Riot, not some schoolgirl.
“Well,” he says to himself, words almost completely muffled by his pillow. “Try again tomorrow, I guess.”
—
Eijirou keeps glancing from his phone screen currently playing Instagram stories and up to the time. Ten pm. He scrolls. Then glances back.
It’s four minutes past ten pm when he finally bucks up the goddamn courage to call.
Katsuki picks up on the first ring.
“You’re late, Ei.”
“Sorry,” Eijirou says, swallowing hard.
Katsuki exhales down the line, and Eijirou can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Stop apologizing, I haven’t even touched my dick yet, dummy.”
The corner of Eijirou’s mouth twitches up into a smirk. He settles back against his headboard, shifting around until he’s comfortable. Rests his free hand just above the waistline of his sweats. The relief he feels at hearing Katsuki’s voice is like honey, dripping and sweet.
“Oh,” Eijirou says, pleased. The cat that ate the fucking canary. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Fuck, that’s generous. Don’t make me hard before I’ve even pulled my dick out yet, asshole. Also, I have another trade for you.”
Eijirou snorts, rolling his eyes. “Jeez, man, you and your trades. What is it this time?”
Katsuki huffs. “Shut up, I just. We do this, and I get to take you out tomorrow, alright? Let me do that.”
Eijirou knows the look on his face is smoldered as all hell. Nauseatingly smitten. Figures he doesn’t actually care. “Damn, that’s a good trade,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Okay. Yeah.”
“Deal, then,” Katsuki confirms. “Don’t expect too much though, yeah? Still trying to figure shit out. If that’s alright.”
“No, that’s—you’re perfect for me, Kats.” Eijirou smiles, dopey and in love. “Not to be an ass and ruin the moment, but I was watching your fight earlier on TV and, uh. Man. It kinda gave me a problem. Do you, maybe—”
“Take your pants off.”