Domestic Scorpio Husband(tm) sex pollen

[moonshadows]

The chirp of the phone was like a hand on his shoulder, promising a reward for the interruption. Hizashi put down what he had been holding, attention turning from food preparation to this new distraction because that was Eraser’s ringtone, and his Husband ™ was out on patrol this Saturday afternoon.

Syringe. House. I’ve been Quirk-dosed and I’m coming home.

Hizashi’s fingers flew over the keyboard, a string of emojis and characters appearing in their wake. Thumb-up emoji. ‘Back door’.  Kimono emoji. Mouth-zipped-shut emoji. Acknowledged, come in through the balcony door, I’ll get clothes for you but keep out of your path. They both knew the recommendations for being hit by an unknown quirk: tell someone, get to a safe place, get clean, stay isolated.

Food forgotten as soon as the message had been sent, Hizashi grabbed the roll of paper towels and headed towards the glass door that opened onto the balcony. The guest bedroom almost directly across from it was rarely used, but that made it ideal for decontamination. Hizashi unspooled enough paper towels to reach the floor and moved through the bedroom, into the attached bathroom with its little shower stall. That’s where he laid the end of the paper towels, unrolling more as he retraced his steps, backing towards the balcony door. It took only a second to unlatch it and slide it open, and then he tore the paper path off the roll and left it to sprawl out onto the balcony like the cheapest imitation of a red carpet.

Now that Eraser could go from door to shower without potentially leaving quirk particles on the floor, Hizashi darted to the other end of the apartment and rummaged in a large closet for what looked like a complicated garment bag. A pair of long, rubber gloves, a gas mask, and stainless steel salad tongs had been rolled up inside it, and Hizashi took the whole bundle over to the couch where he left it, heading now into the very generous master bedroom and making a beeline for the basket of clean laundry that still hadn’t been put away. Underwear. Socks. Wait, no, matching socks. Pajamas – wait, those were his. There, the red ones, those were Aizawa’s flannel pajama bottoms. Could he find the matching top? A few moments of searching proved that he could not, and he settled for a plain grey tee. He bundled them all up and left for the couch, grabbing the rolled decontamination bag as he passed, and slipped into the bedroom that – although never used as such – was Aizawa’s. Once inside, he shut the door and set his bundles down on the bed. All set, he texted Eraser.

Only a few anxious minutes later, he heard the soft sound of flexible boots on the paper towel path. Cloth rustling. The shower door clicked shut. The water turned on. Hizashi put on the gas mask and gloves, opening the garment bag and grabbing the tongs. He went to the balcony door first, grabbing the trailing end of the paper towels in the tongs and shoving it into the bag. Hunched over, clearing the path as he went, he made his way into the little bathroom and fumbled Eraser’s hero costume into the decontamination bag, along with the bathroom rug it had been sitting on. The tongs followed it all in, and then he peeled the gloves carefully off and dropped them in as well before sealing the bag shut.

Hizashi made his way back to the balcony, where the bag was unceremoniously abandoned to the elements and the door closed before he brought the bundle of clothes into the bathroom and set it on the toilet. Only then did he remember that there was no towel hanging from the towel rack, and once more he went to the other end of the apartment to grab a bath towel and leave the gas mask hanging from the door of the linen closet. Once the towel had been left on top of the clothes, he went back to the kitchen and tried to remember what he had been planning to do with the various food items scattered around on the counter.

After spending the better part of a minute squinting at the various food items, he realized he was squinting and realized that his glasses were still on the bed Aizawa never used. That didn’t mean he went to retrieve them, of course, because he was putting the food items back in the fridge. Aizawa had been hit with an unknown quirk and would no doubt be wallowing in overly-dramatic reactions ranging from blaming himself for having been hit in the first place to paranoia about the quirk’s effects to guilt over av-

That’s when Hizashi realized that although the water had turned off, his Husband™ had not yet emerged from the guest room. Right. The ‘isolation’ part of the recommended Quirk Dosing Procedure. Well, he’d deal with that after the pizzas were delivered. Which they wouldn’t be if he didn’t order them, so he turned to lean against the counter while he pulled up the ordering app for his favorite pizza place. Six pizzas…one pepperoni, of course. One teriyaki chicken. One tentacles-and-ink abomination because that, inexplicably, was what Aizawa secretly loved the most on a pizza crust. One fruit-and-chocolate dessert pizza because damn what Aizawa thought about chocolate and fruit, he liked it and it was delicious. One ‘ALL the toppings!’, and the last one…

He scrolled through the menu for a minute before selecting one they hadn’t tried yet, potato, mayo, corn, and sausage. It sounded good enough. He placed the order, paying with his Food Card and making sure the usual contactless delivery directions were in place, before returning his attention to the outside world and the fact that his glasses were still in Aizawa’s room, and Aizawa himself still hadn’t emerged. Okay. Glasses first, before he forgot they were even in there and lost track of them for three months.

Once the red plastic frames were on his face, Hizashi took a moment to plan out the evening. Pizzas would be delivered. Aizawa would not emerge, so Hizashi would have to intrude on his Blanket Burrito Of Solitude to deliver a couple slices on a plate. He’d give his Husband™ half an hour to stare at them and then reluctantly eat them before he returned to sit on the bed and be a temptation while gently prying out the details of the incident. After that, hopefully some cuddling. Possibly while singing along with soft music and playing a dumb fidget game on his phone. In other words, their usual evening routine, just in a different place.

While he waited for dinner to arrive, Hizashi changed into a pair of soft pajamas, pastel pink with clouds and rainbows on the pants and a larger rainbow terminating in a pair of clouds on the top. He pulled his hair into a messy ponytail and then looped it, anticipating the need to keep it out of the pizza, and then padded back to poke his head into the guest bedroom.

Yup. Blanket Burrito Of Solitude.

“Taachan?” he called softly, not sure which direction his sulky Husband™ was facing.

A wordless grumble was his response. He still wasn’t sure which direction Aizawa was facing.

“You don’t have to…”

“I need to isolate,” came the growled reply.

“Taachan, you have a bedroom!”

“…I was already here,” Aizawa muttered. “It was only logical.”

Hizashi opened his mouth, three different protests warring to get out, and shut it when it was apparent that there would be no clear victor. “I ordered pizza. You gonna come eat it with me when it gets here?”

“You know the answer to that, Hizashi.”

“Okay,” he said, undeterred by the other man’s dark tone. “I’ll come and bring you some.”

There was a pause, and then Aizawa said softly, “Thank you.”

He didn’t bother closing the door behind him.

Out in the living room, Hizashi sprawled half in, half on the blue chair that was half a butt shy of being a loveseat and grabbed the tablet from the coffee table. He didn’t bother queuing up any particular songs, content to hit shuffle and let everything play randomly while he worked on a match-3 puzzle game, singing absently as the mood took him, one ear open for the sounds of a burrito climbing out of bed or the doorbell announcing that dinner had arrived. The doorbell was first, followed by the delivery person texting him to confirm the pizzas were waiting. Hizashi texted back a quick ‘thank you’ and stopped the music. Footsteps retreated, out in the hall, and he put the tablet aside to retrieve the small stack of boxes. Smoothly, he spread them out along the counter in the kitchen and grabbed two plastic plates that were a size larger than normal dinner plates. On one, he stacked two slices of everything but the one with inky black sauce, and an extra two slices of the fruit pizza. On the other, he arranged three slices adorned with bits of tentacle and one of each of the others except the one laden with fruit and drizzled with chocolate sauce.

With the second plate in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, he ventured into the guest bedroom where the lump of blankets on the bed…had not moved.

“Pizza’s here,” he announced cheerfully, setting the plate on the bedside table and putting the bottle down next to it. “I got pepperoni, teriyaki chicken, ultra supreme, and some potato thing that sounded good.”

No response.

“…I also got your favorite,” Hizashi singsonged, and was rewarded with a slight twitch of the bundled bedding.

“You didn’t have to,” Aizawa said quietly, still hidden beneath the blankets.

“Of course I did,” countered Hizashi in a tone of mock indignation. “You’re my Husband™. I’m legally obligated to spoil you, Taachan.”

Softly, Aizawa said, “I’m grateful. Thank you.”

Hizashi lavished a smile on the pile of blankets. “I’ll let you eat in peace. Shout or text if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” came the soft promise.

This time, Hizashi closed the door behind him.

===

A pizza and a half later, Hizashi patted his stomach and belched. That had probably been enough time for Aizawa to finish his dinner, but he’d still put the leftovers away before he checked. The remnants of the normal pizzas got folded up, slices stacked facing each other so the toppings wouldn’t contaminate the other pizzas, and packed into a Tupperware pie container. Aizawa’s squid pizza got wrapped in plastic wrap, and the other half of the dessert pizza went into a Ziploc bag. Once everything had been shuffled into the fridge and the boxes flattened and stacked by the garbage can, he strolled back over to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Room service,” he chirped, listening for the sounds of Aizawa cocooning himself again to stop before he opened the door. “How’re you feeling, Taachan? Anything yet?”

“No,” Aizawa admitted slowly. “I feel…fine.”

“You feel fine physically,” corrected Hizashi as he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on where he suspected Aizawa’s shoulder was. “You’re beating yourself up emotionally, aren’t you.”

There was a familiar, tense pause before Aizawa said, “…you’re not wrong.”

“Tell me what happened?”

The pile of blankets pulled tighter in on itself. “You shouldn’t be here, Hizashi. Isolation, remember?”

“You showered,” Hizashi pointed out reasonably. “I put your costume in the decontamination bag and it’s out on the balcony. If there was any physical component to the quirk, it’s not there anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s safe,” muttered Aizawa darkly.

Hizashi leaned against the other man’s blanket-covered hip. “Okay, lay it out for me. What’s the risk?”

“It’s in me, Hizashi. She cut me, and I saw her quirk energy go inside. Into my blood. Whatever it is, it’s inside me.”

That was mildly concerning, but there was no reason to feed that fear. Not when they could use logic to keep it to reasonable precautions.

“You cleaned the wound, right?” Because of course, there was a full first aid kit under the sink. Unexpected guests tended to need patching up.

“Cleaned and bandaged it. The bleeding had already stopped.”

“Okay, so there goes any risk of contaminating me with your blood. And you don’t feel any different?”

“No,” Aizawa admitted reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean…”

Hizashi patted the blanket-covered hip. “That means that my just being in the same room isn’t going to put me at risk.”

Under the blankets, Aizawa said nothing.

“…do you want me to leave?” Hizashi asked in a small voice. “I will, if that’s what you want.”

“…no,” came the very quiet answer. “I want you to stay.”

The unseen hip got patted again. “Tell me what happened?”

Aizawa sighed. In short, chopped sentences, he described having heard that a runaway girl had been seen in the area. The name she’d been giving out was fake; no one knew who she was or why a teenager had decided to live on the streets. Eraserhead had gone poking around just to see if he could get some more information, but had found the girl instead. He tried to offer her assistance: money, resources, an escort to the police station. She’d lashed out, catching his cheek with a surprisingly sharp nail, and he’d been a second too late activating Erasure.

“I had no way to know what she hit me with,” Aizawa finished with a heavy sigh. “So I texted you and came home.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Hizashi agreed. “Especially with an unknown quirk. Did you have enough to eat?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“I put the leftovers away before I came to check on you. D’you need anything before I go to sleep?”

The blanketpile froze.

“…want me to stay?” Hizashi asked softly.

Aizawa’s reply was almost too quiet to hear. “Please.”

 The red plastic frames came off Hizashi’s face, but he hesitated in the middle of putting them on the bedside table. “I’m just going to put your plate in the dishwasher and brush my teeth and I’ll be right back, okay?”

The top of the blankets moved slightly.

Hizashi grabbed the plate, left the glasses in its place, and left the room. Flossing, brushing, and rinsing his teeth felt like it was taking way longer than usual, but soon enough he was grabbing one of the blankets off his bed and turning out lights as he went from one end of the apartment to the other.

“Where’d you leave your phone?” he asked as he strode into the guest bedroom, blanket draped around him like a cape because he was an adult, damn it, and he’d pretend it was a cape if he damn well felt like it.

“Bathroom sink,” came the muffled response.

Hizashi grabbed it and set it on the bedside table next to his, glasses pushed safely back so they wouldn’t get knocked to the floor reaching for one of them. Of course, if they did, the frames were plastic for that exact reason, but there was no reason to invite fate to spit on him. Half-wrapped in his blanket, he climbed into bed and stretched out alongside the burritoed Aizawa before wriggling one leg and an arm under the burrito and draping the other two limbs on top of it. Through what had to be four layers of cloth, he felt the body of his Husband™ relax and a contented hum vibrated in his throat.

“I know this is early for you,” Aizawa started apologetically, but a small sound of protest interrupted him.

“Taachan, I ate a pizza and a half. I am very okay with sprawling comfortably here with you for a few hours. I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night, and that’s fine. I’ll just do some things. Quietly. And then come back to cuddle you some more.”

The blanketpile shifted, Aizawa turning in place beneath them, one fold of cloth pulled slowly back to reveal tousled black hair and one dark eye. “You spoil me,” he said softly, the corners of that eye crinkling slightly in a smile that only Hizashi would have read as such. “Thank you.”

Hizashi resisted the urge to kiss that hair, the forehead, to pull the rest of the cloth down for a proper kiss. “Damn right I do,” he said instead, hugging the mass of blankets tighter. “Sleep well, Taachan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“I know you do,” murmured Aizawa, pulling the fold of cloth up to hide himself again. “Sleep well, Hizashi. I love you.”

A tiny squeak escaped the other man. “I love you too,” he said in a soft, high voice.

===

It wasn’t his bladder that woke him, some hours later, but lips softly urging his to respond and a hand trying to grope him through multiple layers of bedding. Eager but not entirely awake, he began kissing back and fumbling with the blankets, trying to find edges so that those questing fingers could reach their goal and with every sleepy intent of returning the favor. Somehow, the cloth got out of the way and he gasped into the kiss as warm fingers found their prize. The kiss gained intensity at that sound, particularly as his hands found the warm, taut skin of Aizawa’s chest and spread out to explore this delightful territory.

Aizawa moaned, breaking the kiss to fasten his lips on the side of Hizashi’s neck, the suck-scrape eliciting a soundless reaction as the Voice Hero locked his quirk down. His hips bucked into Aizawa’s tight grip, but the hand vanished only to reappear around his wrist, dragging his hand down to the other man’s groin. Obediently, Hizashi began stroking, and a pleased hum vibrated through the lips against his neck. Once Aizawa was satisfied that Hizashi would continue, his hand returned to where it had been and in frantic, bucking silence they jerked each other off.

“Missed you too,” Hizashi murmured as coherent thought returned to him.

Instead of the melty armful of Husband™ he was used to having after this sort of interlude, the deliciously toned body in his arms was still very much alert and hungry.

“I want you,” Aizawa breathed into his ear, nibbling gently on the shell of it. “God, Hizashi, I want you.”

“I noticed,” teased Hizashi. “Shall I go get the condoms and lube?”

Aizawa growled, hands tightening on Hizashi’s hips. “No.”

Hizashi hummed, hands stroking up and down Aizawa’s back. “Mmm, okay.”

He leaned forward, kissing at Aizawa’s neck, moving downwards to the deliciously firm planes of his chest as the hands on his hips loosened, scooting down under the covers and kissing as he went until he could take Aizwa’s thick cock into his mouth. The hands moved to his hair, praising with their fingers as he began to lick and suck, his vocal cords emitting a sound that climbed towards the frequency that resonated with the nerves relaying pleasure to the brain. Although he had always refused to create ‘ultimate moves’ in UA, he did have them – and this one was called the Heavenly Choir. The fingers in his hair tightened, the hips under his hands bucking frantically upward, and then he was swallowing as the entirety of Aizawa’s body relaxed with a sigh.

Not willing to gamble that his Scorpio Husband™ would be satisfied for the night, Hizashi slipped out of the guest bedroom and padded through the apartment, coming back with a handful of condoms and the tiny dildo that acted as a lube applicator, the plastic tubing coiled up around the large, lube-filed syringe shape that would force the thick liquid through the hole at its tip. With the top of the bedside table occupied by phones and glasses, he pulled the drawer open and dumped his burden inside it, not bothering to close it again before he climbed back into bed to curl up around the sleeping sprawl of Aizawa’s body.

Sleep did not immediately claim Hizashi, and he ran the recent events through his memories of the last few years. If Aizawa woke up – which was very likely – would he want to be penetrated, or do the penetrating? Normally, it was almost a coin toss as to which of them did what. But they’d already had- and Aizawa liked- chances were best, Hizashi decided, that if the Heavenly Choir wasn’t enough to fully satisfy his Husband™, he would next want to be thoroughly fucked. Although his libido was nowhere near the other man’s, it was more…reactive, and he did rather enjoy being the one to do the penetrating, even if he wasn’t always (or even usually) comfortable topping per se. Hizashi found himself actually hoping that Aizawa would wake up with needs to be filled, and as usual, the thought of how turned on Aizawa would be by him doing things turned him on. He had almost decided to roll over and grab a condom, just in case, when the body in his arms stirred and let out a grumbly moan that shot straight to his loins.

It was time for round three.

“I need you,” Aizawa muttered, voice rusty with sleep, turning to blindly seek Hizashi’s lips. “I need you, ‘Zashi.” Then he uttered the words that the blond man had been expecting and even hoping for- “I want you in me.”

Hizashi rolled them both over, humming to be able to find Aizawa’s lips in the dark, and kissed him soundly from the vantage point of straddling him. “It’s okay, Taachan,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

The desperate hands clinging to his pajama top relaxed. “Arigatou,” breathed Aizawa, now a study in the dichotomy of desperate need and obedient waiting.

There was a lamp by the bed, one that could be dimmed, and Hizashi turned it on just enough to be able to see what he was doing – and to let Aizawa see him. He pulled his pajamas off unceremoniously, letting them drop to the floor, and stood where his Husband™ would have a clear view as he rolled a condom down his waiting length. Then he opened a second one and grabbed the applicator, a single vague gesture sending the other man scrambling to rid himself of pajama bottoms and tee shirt. Hizashi positioned himself on the foot of the bed, squeezing some thick lube out of the tip of the dildo and smearing it down its modest length. Aizawa’s thighs parted before him and gently, he worked the little dildo inside before slowly depressing the plunger and paving his future path with thick, slightly-cool fluid. At the other end of the bed, Aizawa clutched at the pillow, the sheets, the blankets, his hair, anything to keep his hands off his own body. The hitch in his breath as the lube oozed into him only made Hizashi more eager to get on with things.

Normally, Hizashi would remove the applicator dildo and put it safely aside before wrapping his Husband™ for easy cleaning. But tonight, it twitched as Aizawa’s eager muscles clenched around it, and he just…left it there. One hand stroked from knee to groin, meeting the other there as he placed the condom on the head of Aizawa’s penis, rolling it down with slow, sure strokes oddly reminiscent of petting a cat while the man being tended to made a delightful assortment of needy sounds. Only then did he slowly, gently pull out the applicator, chuckling as the muscles of Aizawa’s ass attempted to clench on thin air. He wanted to say something sexy, something witty, something reassuring, but instead he positioned himself and leaned forward for a kiss as he slowly, gently, began to press his way inside. Aizawa propped himself up, leaning forward to meet those waiting lips, alternately bearing down and relaxing to help ease the other man’s way into his body.

Bit by bit, alternately tight and welcoming, Hizashi slid deeper until he was buried to the hilt, and the kiss broke so Aizawa could let out a deep sound of pleasure.

“God, Hizashi, you feel so good,” he panted, head lolling back. “Fuck me. Please.”

Balancing carefully, Hizashi grabbed one of Aizawa’s hands and tugged it to his mouth to kiss. “As you wish,” he murmured in his best Farmboy Wesley impression.

Then he braced his hands on the headboard to either side of Aizawa’s head and began to thrust.

Although Present Mic seemed to be a skinny wannabe punk, the reality was that the slender body under that black leather had been honed from early childhood. Hula. Polynesian dancing. Surfing. Ice skating. Track. He’d run literal circles around his classmates the first year he was at UA, and his strength and agility had only increased in the years since. All this was to say that in terms of endurance, fine control, and brute strength, anyone underestimating him did so at their own peril. Aizawa knew very well how strong Hizashi’s hips were. He was familiar with the shimmy that turned ordinary into extraordinary. But the Voice Hero never went all out until it was absolutely necessary, and in the five years they had been together, he had never fucked his Husband™ the way he was doing now.

Aizawa gasped, the inhalation coming out as a ragged moan, as Hizashi began to move inside him. He brought his hands up around the other man’s back, locked them behind his neck, and held on for dear life as every motion, every thrust dragged him forcibly closer to the edge. He whimpered, he panted, he tried to move and meet that imperative thrusting, he uttered growls empty of any actual threat and captured Hizashi’s lips for a desperate, hungry kiss.

Then the humming started.

It vibrated through his mouth, through his teeth, down his jaws and down his throat to pool in his belly and drip down his spine, cascading as the Heavenly Choir grew louder, churning incandescent in his balls and then everything was light and he was pulsing, clenching and fluttering, losing himself completely in the moment and totally unaware that the Choir had faltered and died, Hizashi’s voice stolen by the incredible sensations of his Husband™ falling apart beneath him, around him, milking him dry and leaving him to melt, spent, onto Aizawa’s delicious chest.

For several minutes they lay there, humming quietly in satisfaction and reveling in the afterglow. Hizashi adjusted his position so that he was sprawled alongside Aizawa rather than on top, the knowledge that they should take off and throw away the condoms nagging at him, but they were both too comfortable to care about dripping onto the sheets.

“God, Hizashi,” Aizawa murmured, rolling over to kiss the blond, “that was incredible. You’re incredible.”

“You’re incredible,” Hizashi repeated teasingly.

He got kissed again for that. “I’m so lucky to have you. You’re so hot.”

Hizashi kissed back with a pleased sound. “You’re hotter.”

The sound Aizawa made was almost a purr. “I’m hungry,” he said slowly, anticipation dripping from the words.

“Want me to heat some pizza for you?”

The hand that had been caressing his hair slid down his cheek, down his chest, found Hizashi’s hand and brought it lower to where the condom, half-falling off in the aftermath of orgasm, was once again snug around Aizawa’s erection. “It’s not that kind of hunger.”

Hizashi squeaked, then sobered, pulling his hand away. “Taachan…”

“Mmm?” Aizawa was barely paying attention to anything but the fingers he was gently pulling back and curling around his dick.

“Taachan, are you feeling okay? Past being horny,” he added.

Aizawa frowned. “Why?”

“Because usually,” Hizashi said lightly, teasingly, “getting fucked like that gets alllll the tension out of you, and you’re like a purring cat for hours afterwards. But this time…” A squeezing stroke finished the sentence and made his point.

A groan and half-lidded eyes were Aizawa’s initial response. “You’re just that good,” he said, leaning forward to lay a nibbly kiss on Hizashi’s lips.

“Mmm, I am that good,” the blond agreed easily. “And that’s why you’re usually boneless and ready for a nap afterwards.”

“What’s your point?” asked Aizawa between hopeful kisses.

“My point is that I think this is a quirk effect,” Hizashi said, voice light but firm.

Aizawa leaned back to search Hizashi’s face. “I think you’re right,” he said. Then he leaned in for another kiss.

“You’re not worried about this?”

“Nope.”

“But you know this isn’t normal.”

“Mm-hmm.” Aizawa didn’t bother with words, his mouth busy sucking and scraping at Hizashi’s throat, doing his best to ruin the other man’s concentration.

“Taachan…” The word trailed off, distracted by a hand meandering down his thigh. The mouth on his neck moved to his mouth, lips moving hungrily against his.

“I want you,” Aizawa said in a low growl, lavishing attention on the shell of Hizashi’s ear. The hand on his thigh lifted, only to reappear at his side as he straddled the blond man. “I want that ass.”

Fighting a losing battle, sliding down a slippery slope of lust, Hizashi grabbed at one lone objection, the smallest possible obstacle. “New condom,” he gasped. “You already came in that one. It could break.”

The annoyed growl that resonated against his sensitive ear made him shiver, but Aizawa climbed off of him to strip off the used sheath and discard it before rolling a fresh condom down his thick length. Seeing him stand there confidently, wearing nothing but thin latex as he picked up the applicator and checked how much lube was left in it, was surprisingly arousing. Having him strip the used condom off Hizashi’s growing erection almost finished the job, but the way he leaned over and examined it before licking, slowly, up one side of the shaft, like a panther who’s decided he likes you…that had him harder than he thought he could get so soon after orgasm.

The firm hand rolling a condom onto him was almost like a gesture of approval.

As soon as Aizawa straightened, Hizashi scooted to the middle of the bed and spread his legs, soft sounds escaping his lips at the sensations of being prepared. “We break after this,” he said breathily. “Okay? We take a break, you get some fluids into you, maybe have a snack.” The legs that had been spread invitingly closed and crossed with a strength that could and had kept Hizashi immobile on a flagpole while he ate a sandwich, and his voice dropped three octaves from ‘high and breathy’ to ‘cold, hard iron’. “We break after this, Taachan.”

Aizawa glared at the thighs pressed so tightly together before meeting Hizashi’s eyes. “Fine. Break after this.”

Satisfied at the agreement he’d wrung out of his Husband™ and quite looking forward to the turnabout from their previous romp, Hizashi uncrossed his legs and reached out to caress Aizawa with his toes and calves, inviting him to come and claim what was his.

More than willing to take that invitation, Aizawa crouched down like a panther and crawled up the bed, kissing random bits of skin as he went, until he was pressed against the other man’s entrance, legs wrapped around his waist, kissing Hizashi’s lips as though establishing dominance while hands crept into his hair, eliciting growling sounds of pleasure. He broke the kiss to lavish attention on Hizashi’s jaw, kissing down to his neck and fastening his lips to the sensitive skin usually covered by the directional speaker. Hizashi gasped as that mouth got to work creating a hickey to match the one on the other side of his neck, fingers working deeper into the other man’s thick, dark hair.

“Sir,” he said in a voice just shy of a whisper, “were you aware that this is extremely hot?”

“You’re extremely hot,” countered Aizawa, beginning to push his way in.

More than once, Hizashi had described Aizawa’s cock as “perfect”. The perfect length – not too long, not to short – and a girth that was almost too thick to be comfortable. Almost. Getting that delicious length inside him was a dance he quite enjoyed doing, particularly since it wasn’t often that either of them were feeling this dominant. Yes, his Husband™ was being affected by a quirk and yes, it probably wasn’t healthy and they’d have to do something about it sooner or later, but it was still really, really hot and he was absolutely going to enjoy the pounding he was about to get.

As they paused to savor the moment of fulfillment and adjustment, Hizashi freed one hand to place a finger against Aizawa’s lips. “I’m going to vocal-lock almost immediately,” he said in a tone of calm warning. “You know the ‘stop’ signals.”

“Yeah,” Aizawa said thickly, kissing that fingertip.

Hizashi cupped his cheek tenderly, smiling as his Husband™ turned to nuzzle into his hand. “I just have one request.”

“Break after this,” came the muffled response.

The blond man’s grin widened. “Well, yes, but not what I was about to say.”

Aizawa turned to look at him. “Oh?”

“Fuck me like I fucked you,” he said smugly.

The sound that emerged from Aizawa’s lips would have sounded like deepest agony from anyone else, but Hizashi knew it for the arousal it was and it made his dick throb in anticipation.

He wasn’t disappointed.

If he hadn’t known there was a quirk involved-

If they hadn’t already had amazing sex not fifteen minutes before-

If this had been their first tryst of the night, of the week, of the month-

-this could have, possibly, been mistaken for natural enthusiasm.

Hizashi clung with all his limbs as Aizawa set about pounding him the way he’d been pounded, legs so tight around the other man’s hips that there would likely be bruising in the morning, fingers clawing at that delightfully muscled back until he wasn’t sure if the moisture he was feeling was sweat or blood. The powerful vocal cords that had caused his parents’ ears to bleed at birth, that could send a grown man flying with ease, that could scream rain out of the clouds or replicate the gentle purring of a kitten, were locked so tightly that all the sounds Hizashi wanted to make sat in his throat, as thick and solid as the cock driving him closer and closer to euphoric oblivion.

Thought, rational thought, was impossible in that sea of sensation. There was no concept of time, no concept of words. There was only tight, hot, good, more. The sweet lightning of orgasm, slow and tender stroking of overstimulated flesh while panting lips painted dry kisses on his skin, and then the rising excitement as motions quickened, the eye of the storm passing and Hizashi begged for more with the exposed skin of his throat, head thrown back in a silent scream. The ache in his fingers as they slid over writhing muscles and tangled in sweaty hair. The burn in his thighs as they urged Aizawa forward, forward, deeper, faster. When the end came, it was as glorious and terrible as the fabric of reality itself ripping apart, sending them both spilling bonelessly into the void.

===

As usual, Hizashi was the first one to recover. Whether it was an effect of his ADHD or related to his nebulous placement on the spectrum of asexuality, he typically bounced back from afterglow in half the time Aizawa did and was likely to be getting a snack or checking his phone while the other man was still struggling to string words together. Tonight, he trotted cheerfully into the kitchen to pry pizza slices out of their Tupperware container, arrange them on a plate, and subject them most rudely to the indignity of being microwaved while he took a pit stop in the bathroom. There were usually at least a few bottles of sports drinks in the door of the fridge, where other people would store bottles of half-used condiments, for immediate consumption after a workout – because after a childhood filled with hard physical activity, Hizashi wasn’t about to give that habit of exertion up even if he was teaching now instead of patrolling, and Aizawa was patrolling – and Hizashi grabbed two.

Bottles in the crook of his arm and plate of pizza in hand, he made his way back to the guest room where his Husband™ blinked groggily at him.

“Snack,” he announced cheerfully, handing over one of the bottles rather than trusting that Aizawa was in any shape to catch it and perching on the bed. “I nuked some pizza. Two slices of pepperoni and two of the potato stuff. Which do you want?”

Aizawa made an unintelligible noise as he opened his bottle, downing half the cool liquid rather than answering. When he came up for air, Hizashi was holding one of the pepperoni slices up for him to bite and, obediently, he did. “How many of those are you going to make me eat?” he asked when his mouth was clear.

Hizashi swallowed his bite. “Just one,” he said before shoving more potato pizza into his mouth. “Unless you want more.”

Maintaining eye contact, Aizawa reached out and pulled the hand bearing potato pizza to his mouth, where he took a big bite that somehow managed to come across as very sexual. “Oh,” he said in a low voice, “I want more.”

“Pizza first,” Hizashi said firmly, unmoved by this display of sensuality.

Now slightly sulky, Aizawa took another bite of pepperoni.

“Don’t give me that,” chided the Voice Hero. “If this is some kind of make-you-horny quirk, it’s probably on a timer rather than being satisfied when you’re satisfied, and that means we’re both in for a long night. Remember the first time we decided to not get any sleep? Remember how much we regretted not refueling and staying hydrated?”

Aizawa grumbled something unintelligible around his pizza slice.

“Exactly. You eat that and I’ll eat these, and then we can get back to it.”

For a long minute, there was silence as both men focused on devouring their snacks, then draining their bottles of sports drinks. The plate and bottles got carelessly discarded on the floor as Aizawa pulled Hizashi down onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp that turned into a soft moan as lips found the sensitive skin of his neck and began creating a third hickey.

“I want you,” growled Aizawa without actually relinquishing the flesh between his lips. “I want you, ‘Zashi.”

Hizashi hummed in a decidedly distracted way. “I am absolutely not capable of being dominant right now, sir.”

Aizawa moved down to the other man’s collarbone, where he began creating a fresh hickey. “Mmph. Fine. Then you’re getting railed again.”

“I am…very okay with that,” Hizashi said breathlessly. “Sir.”

“Good.” Aizawa lifted his head, looking very much like a wild cat of some type in the dim lighting.

When Hizashi held one hand out, he nuzzled it briefly before climbing off the bed for more condoms.

“Almost out of lube,” he announced as he re-inserted the applicator and depressed the plunger as far as it would go, then squeezed the tubing to force the last little bits out.

“No more of this ass for you after this, then,” teased Hizashi as he rolled a fresh condom on. “You’ll just have to settle for my mouth and my hand.”

Aizawa gave him a deadpan look as he sheathed himself again. “Oh no. Whatever shall I do.”

“I’m just making sure we’re on the same page while you can still think, Taachan.”

“I know.” Aizawa crawled forward for a feral kiss. “Thank you.”

Eagerly, Hizashi reached up to wrap his arms around the other man’s torso again, slight hisses and quiet growls suggesting that he had drawn blood earlier, and made a mental note to make sure the scratches were cleaned in the morning.

Then the slow dance of penetration began, and the kissing, and the thrusting soon after, and thoughts became much less structured.

===

While Aizawa slumbered briefly, Hizashi’s mind leaped into high gear. As fantastic as it was, being topped twice in one night, and as hardy as the delicate tissues of his ass were, it was gonna hurt in the morning if he took a third pounding. He could go and get more lube before his Husband™ woke up, but to be honest, he wasn’t sure Aizawa’s ass could take more pounding either. Even if he wasn’t up to topping – and he wasn’t – the fact remained that more lube opened the possibility of one of them just riding the other’s dick, and with the state Aizawa was in, Hizashi did not trust him to be able to safely seat himself instead of just ramming himself down and hurting one or both of them.

Right. No lube. How about condoms?

Hizashi rolled over to squint into the open drawer. One left.

Well, they wouldn’t need a condom for a blowjob. And thanks to the Heavenly Choir, Hizashi wouldn’t be in danger of his cheeks tiring out and the unique shame that was drooling on your lover’s balls. The Choir would make repeated handjobs less arduous as well, but that last condom wouldn’t last as long as his Scorpio would, he was sure.

The bed was just going to get messy, there was no help for it.

Oh well.

By the time Aizawa stirred from his post-orgasm daze, he had been rolled onto his side with Hizashi spooning him, one arm around his chest and the other draped over his hip, hand loosely curled around the member that began stiffening almost immediately.

“I’ve got you,” Hizashi murmured in a voice so deep that it sent shivers down Aizawa’s spine. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

A ragged groan was all the other man managed before he was panting, back arching against Hizashi’s chest while lips on his neck set to work returning the hickey he’d given the blond man. It wasn’t long before his breath hitched and he ejaculated into the tight grip jerking him off.

“Aishiteru,” he breathed as tension bled out of his body, leaving him feeling so relaxed that he could melt at any moment.

For a handful of minutes he drifted in the twin grips of afterglow and Hizashi’s arms, and then that comfort began to fade away like hot water draining out of a bathtub, leaving him increasingly aware of the ache in his groin and how enticingly warm the body spooning him was. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, the warmth around his penis tightened into Hizashi’s hand and began stroking, the man’s voice vibrating against the skin of his neck, and he let out a wordless sound of pleasure as he willingly submitted to the ministrations of his unofficial husband.

He could not have said how long he drifted through that pleasant loop, drinking in the warmth of Hizashi’s skin and having his needs met before they even became uncomfortable, his thoughts a pleasant haze that soared to yes, yes, yes! before sinking to want, want, want and climbing back up again. What brought him out of it, rudely breaking the spell of pleasure cocooning him, was Hizashi’s voice in his ear.

“Taachan?”

Aizawa growled lazily, mildly annoyed that his dick wasn’t being stroked.

“Taachan, you stopped ejaculating.”

That was unexpected enough to get a groggy, “…what?”

“You’re orgasming dry. You’re not ejaculating.”

He thought about that for a long moment – or tried to, anyway – before coming to a conclusion. “Less to clean up.”

“Nooooo,” Hizashi said teasingly. “Taachan, that’s bad. I’m worried about you.”

“Call Recovery Girl in the morning.”

“You really want to tell her what happened that you need her healing quirk?”

Aizawa struggled to process those thoughts when the vast majority of his attention was on the hand not jerking him off. “…yes?”

“I don’t think you do,” Hizashi murmured, but his voice was low and intimate, and his hand was moving, and Aizawa couldn’t bring himself to care what, exactly, he was saying.

This time, when he scraped his brain back together enough to register that there was no warm body pressed against his back, he also realized that he was on his back.

And Hizashi was looming over him.

Hizashi’s incredible thighs were bracketing his thighs, arms braced to either side of his head, his golden hair spilling around them both like a curtain, and his incredibly kissable face was descending. Aizawa tilted his head up to meet those lips as soon as they came into range, pulling at them with his lips, opening his mouth invitingly and eagerly kissing as Hizashi’s mouth opened. He swallowed absently, not registering the taste of the warm fluid flowing from Hizashi’s mouth to his, all his thoughts on his partner’s tongue and the hips grinding against his. Then the mouth vanished, lips tracing a path that wandered from jaw to throat to chest, paused electrifyingly at one nipple, and then a tongue danced down his abdomen to swirl promisingly around his achingly hard penis.

Warmth enveloped him, tight and wet and welcoming, and he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but the paradise that awaited him in Hizashi’s throat as the other man took him all the way in and began sucking like he could forcibly extract the orgasm clawing to get out. Aizawa was more than happy to give that thirsty mouth what it wanted, and then the world faded out.

At the foot of the bed, Hizashi straightened and swallowed, watching and waiting until it was clear that his Husband™ was well and truly unconscious before moving around to where he’d left his sports drink and draining the bottle. Although the night was still relatively young, and although he couldn’t have absorbed enough Nyquil through the tissues of his mouth to be knocked out like Aizawa was, it had been a rather physical few hours – hour? He wasn’t sure – and he was more than content to call it a night. In the dim light, he found his pajamas and pulled them back on, tugging his hair out of the top and wondering where his hair tie had gone. After all, when your partner was the living embodiment of Scorpio stereotypes, it wasn’t wise to go to bed without anything between your skin and his.

The hair tie was probably tangled in the blankets somewhere. Hizashi gave it up for lost and gently clothed Aizawa’s sleeping body instead, doing his best to not let anything sit in the wet spot. Spots. He was going to have to make sure those sheets got washed, later. But for now, he scooped his unconscious Husband™ into his arms and carried him across the apartment to the enormous master bedroom with its extra-large Quirk King bed. As usual, the bed was an untidy sprawl of blankets – some weighted, some not – and pillows, including the two body pillows with custom pillowcases. He’d tripped across the Present Mic one on one of his trawls through fan merch, and liked the art enough to not only buy one, but to commission the artist to make one of Eraserhead.

That had been a fun reaction to see on Aizawa’s face.

Gently, Hizashi laid his sleeping Husband™ on the bed and pulled a weighted blanket over him before grabbing a lighter fleecy one for himself. Now swaddled in fluffy warmth, he snuggled up to Aizawa and let sleep take him.

===

Morning came rudely, Hizashi pulled from the soft embrace of sleep by the pained groans of Aizawa having many, many regrets. He had just registered how bruised and unhappy his ass was when the familiar churning of his intestines reminded him of part of his morning routine.

“Kill me,” Aizawa said, softly but with great emphasis.

Hizashi pulled the blanket off of himself. “You think that’s bad?” He sat up while Aizawa made a reluctantly questioning sound, then announced, “I have to poop.”

The horror of that statement filtered through the aching in Aizawa’s groin, promising not only greater agony when he, too, had to poop, but unimaginable torture when he inevitably had to pee.

“Still want me to call Recovery Girl so you can tell her why you need her healing quirk?” Hizashi asked dryly as he climbed stiffly out of bed.

Moving as little as possible, Aizawa grabbed a pillow and dragged it over to cover his face.

“Don’t worry,” called Hizashi as he made his way painfully around the bed, heading for the half-bath attached to the master bedroom. “I’m going to call Nezu and tell him I’m not coming in. We can suffer together.”

Under the pillow, Aizawa smiled faintly. “Arigatou.”