Avoidant Scorpio Husband(tm) sex pollen

[moonshadows]

 

Getting a text from Eraserhead wasn’t completely unheard of – the two of them had communicated enough over the years to have shorthand for things like ‘villain attack at your location, on my way’ – but that trickle of communication had largely dried up in the months since Present Mic had joined the staff at UA. So it was understandable that being texted in the  afternoon was something far enough out of the ordinary that Mic interrupted his class to check the message.

Syringe. House. Clock. I’ve been quirk-dosed and will be isolating in my apartment for 24 hours.

Being hit with an unknown quirk was unpredictable enough that for heroes without partners or sidekicks, it was strongly advised that they notify someone before isolating, and again when they were clear. Mic texted back a thumbs-up emoji and a floppy disk – acknowledged, stay safe – and turned his attention back to his class.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and he had a lunch date. He’d just have to remember to check in on Eraser before the date, or maybe after. Or both.

===

Hizashi had always been protective of his civilian identity, even before he had a hero one. To that end, when he was out with his hair down, he went by his American alias, Michael Preston. He also spoke Japanese that was clearly not the fluent speech of a native, reveled in wearing pretty, softly femme clothes, and had a handful of piercings in each ear. His voice was high and quiet, in stark contrast to the way he spoke as Present Mic, and he preferred to either meet in loud, crowded places or in the open air.

Today, he was wearing a sky-blue tunic blouse that threatened to fall off one shoulder, three-quarter sleeves showing off the assortment of slender bangles on his wrists, and the earrings in his lobe piercings were matching blue stars with smaller stars dangling beneath three golden beads. His white linen pants clung to his hips, the straps of his white sandals vanishing up into the pant legs as they framed his ankles and caressed his calves. He’d painted his nails a shimmery blue to match the shirt, and his hair cascaded almost to his waist in a slender braid. Overall, he was quite pleased with his appearance and hoped his date would be equally pleased.

He’d gotten a text from Eraser as he was making his way to the café, assuring him that 24 hours had passed uneventfully, and texted back a teasing invitation to crash his lunch date that got nothing but a read notification. That wasn’t out of the ordinary; out of every hundred non-hero-related texts he sent to Eraserhead, he only got a response to one. Maybe.

Someone else might have been discouraged, but someone else wouldn’t have known with absolute certainty that the lack of response stemmed from trauma rather than apathy. It’s not that Eraser didn’t care, it was just that he wasn’t ready to show that he cared.

Hizashi arrived at the café first and secured a table on the patio, where he could drink in the flow of passers-by and sip a fruity mocktail while waiting for his date. She didn’t keep him waiting long, her sparkling smile lighting up the already-sunny day as she slid into the seat across from him. Her hair, like his, caressed her hips when she walked. Unlike his, it was black as a moonless night and loose, with a jeweled barrette pulling it back from the side of her face. She was wearing a satiny top in a maroon so dark it was almost black, jeans that hugged every curve of her legs, and smart black flats. Her nails were just shy of being long enough to make things awkward, and painted to match her blouse.

“You look amazing,” Hizashi said, smiling at her.

She ducked her head slightly. “You look just as amazing,” she protested, but then her eyes darted to follow the motion of someone behind him, and her smile faltered.

Before he could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, there was a hand on his shoulder. A very warm hand, because two fingers were resting on his bare skin, and when he turned to see who it belonged to, his heart leaped into his mouth. Eraserhead was standing beside him, glowering at his date, the binding cloths looped around his neck standing out just the slightest bit like the fur of a bristling cat.

“Eraser?” Hizashi asked in a very small voice.

“Mic. You should ask your date what she does at night.”

The implication of those hard words was clear: she was a villain. Hizashi glanced at her and found confirmation in the mixture of shame and anger on her face. The hand on his shoulder squeezed once, comfort and apology and affection all in one brief gesture, and then the underground hero was gone, vanishing into the crowd and leaving him conflicted.

“I should go,” his date said, standing up to leave.

Hizashi lunged across the table to grab her wrist. “Stay.”

“Didn’t you hear?” She turned away from him. “I’m…”

“I heard,” he said softly. “What I didn’t hear was why.”

That made her pause. Turn slowly to search his face, his expression. Sit, hesitantly, as she found no accusation or disgust.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly, the grip on her wrist shifting, thumb caressing her knuckles as his hand slid down to gently hold the tips of her fingers. “I know you’re not evil. You work with children, and I’ve seen you do it. You’re a kind and gentle person. You don’t have to tell me what you’ve done. Just tell me why.”

The hand he was holding tightened around his and she nodded, blinking away tears that were no doubt caused by emotions as conflicted as what he was feeling.

===

It wasn’t the date he had been hoping for, Hizashi thought as he made his way back to the building that housed his hero agency, his apartment, and several other unused offices and apartments. It wasn’t at all what he had been hoping for, but it hadn’t been a loss. They’d talked – a lot – about her actions and motivations, and the end result was that she had agreed to change her name and leave town, to start fresh somewhere new and not return to her…nighttime activities. A rather bittersweet victory, a parting full of regret but also hope, and as he changed out of his pretty clothes Hizashi found his thoughts moving from his date to the friend who had interrupted it.

His friend, and the warmth of his hand. The brief touch of skin on skin. How many years had it been since Aizawa had allowed such intimate contact? He couldn’t remember. It felt like forever since the last time they’d leaned against each other, unconcerned about personal space. Like an entire lifetime since he’d seen his best friend smile. It hurt, not having that closeness anymore.

Hizashi grabbed the long black cat pillow from his bed and flopped down onto the couch, cat held to his chest, sighing up at the ceiling.

It hurt, but he couldn’t be angry. Aizawa was hurting even more. Had to be, watching his friend go on dates with other people. Had he come with the intent to make good on the invitation to crash the date? Or maybe just to see what ‘the competition’ looked like? He couldn’t deny that Aizawa obviously cared about him; he’d showed up, for whatever reason, and then he’d warned his friend that his date was doing nefarious things at night. He hadn’t been angry, either – that hadn’t been hostile body language. He’d been protective of Hizashi. Worried that his friend was being taken advantage of. Looking out for the feelings of the unsuspecting hero. Aizawa still cared, and he was showing it as best he could through the hurt he was still struggling with. It was cold comfort, and Hizashi focused instead on how warm that hand had been against his shoulder.

===

The sound of Aizawa’s ringtone brought him into startling wakefulness, the realization that he’d fallen asleep on the couch rushing in like the afterimage of the sun as Hizashi fumbled for his phone, heart racing. After the events of the afternoon, to get an unsolicited text…was this the day that Aizawa finally reached out, past the hurt and the trauma, to accept the love Hizashi had been offering for the last ten years? That thought made his hands tremble as he unlocked his phone and opened up his texts, and when he read the words on the screen, he was certain he wasn’t seeing them right. It was a dream, or he wasn’t entirely awake. That couldn’t be what it said.

I need you.

Hizashi lunged to his feet, using physical motion to clear the grogginess from his mind. Where? he typed back, holding his breath until the reply came in.

My apartment.

As Hizashi was typing out a quick omw and trying to remember where his shoes were, another message came in.

Hurry.

He was in his car, driving, two blocks away before he realized that he’d left the apartment wearing mismatched pajamas – velvety bubblegum-pink bottoms with white stars and a pastel pink short-sleeved top bearing only Sailor Moon’s choker and brooch/bow design, like a cheap costume shirt – and sneakers. No socks. No jacket. He’d barely remembered to grab his wallet and keys, phone still held in his other hand. He wasn’t even sure if these pajama bottoms had pockets. But Aizawa had said I need you and hurry and Hizashi would go to hell before he hesitated even a moment longer than necessary rushing to his friend’s side.

Half a block from Aizawa’s apartment, there was a small parking lot. Hizashi pulled straight in, locked the car after him, and ran all out towards the building. He took the stairs two at a time and didn’t so much knock on the door as just use it to come to a sudden stop, groping for the bell with the hand still holding the phone.

“It’s me,” he called almost before the bell had finished ringing.

The door opened so suddenly that only his quirk-enhanced sense of balance saved him from falling to the floor, but he staggered into the apartment and hadn’t yet located Aizawa when the door slammed shut behind him, and then he found himself slammed against the door. Lips on his forestalled a panic reaction, the roughness of stubble a turn-on he hadn’t expected to be one, and there was a very insistent hand exploring the emerging contour at the front of his pajama pants.

“I need you,” growled Aizawa, breaking the kiss only to fasten his lips on the side of Hizashi’s throat, sucking and scraping with his teeth and making it very difficult to keep his knees from giving out.

Hizashi licked his lips, trying very hard to keep his voice under control and giving up. The soft voice of his quirk, the one that didn’t rely on air, would have to do. “I don’t have-”

“I need you,” Aizawa repeated, both hands coming up to cup Hizashi’s face, pulling him forward enough to kiss emphatically.

Through the haze of arousal and confusion, two thoughts flashed through Hizashi’s brain: this had to somehow be the unknown effects of the quirk Aizawa had been hit with, and if that was the case, then he was not actually consenting right now.

Fortunately, Hizashi had a secret weapon. An “ultimate move” that Eraserhead had never seen, because it wasn’t meant for battle: the frequency that triggered the nerves responsible for sending pleasure signals to the brain. Something that could bring an entire room full of people to their knees in the most enjoyable way possible.

The Heavenly Choir.

Hizashi opened his mouth, fighting the urge to just go along when Aizawa took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and began to sing. With the state his friend was in, it wouldn’t be long at all before the song overloaded his brain and-

Aizawa’s knees buckled, the hands holding Hizashi’s head dropping limply, and the Voice Hero scooped the other man up before he could fall. There was a couch, at least, and he laid his host there before sitting on the edge of it where he would have an advantage if it came to a struggle. As an afterthought, he dropped his keys, wallet, and phone onto the end table behind him. Normally, the first time someone heard the Choir, it took them half an hour to scrape their brain back together. The suspicion that this was a quirk effect solidified into probability when Aizawa’s eyes fluttered open five minutes later.

“Taachan? Are you with me?”

Aizawa’s eyes slowly focused on him and he nodded hesitantly, clearly trying to figure out what had happened. The fact that he wasn’t objecting to the nickname he couldn’t have heard in a decade was encouraging.

“You’re being affected by a quirk. Do you know when it started?”

One hand lifted slowly, pointing towards Hizashi’s shoulder. “I touched you,” Aizawa croaked. “Hizashi…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence; the tenting at the front of his pants spoke clearly enough.

“It’s okay,” Hizashi said reassuringly. “It’s the quirk. It’s not your fault.”

“But I want it.”

The words were quiet, and they hit like a hammer ringing a gong, only the gong was Hizashi’s heart. As much as he wanted to believe them, he forced himself to remember that it was the quirk. “I can take care of it,” he said steadily. “We don’t even have to do anything. I can stay here all night, using my quirk to give you relief. You don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t do without being quirk-dosed.”

Aizawa scowled, then glanced away, hands balling into fists. “But I want it,” he repeated, glaring at the floor. “Even without the quirk. I’ve wanted it. I just…”

Every word Hizashi had ever known, in every language, drained out of his head and into his dick, which throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart. The feral sound coming from Aizawa’s throat dragged him back into the moment.

“Can’t think,” he ground out, eyes closed, hiding from whatever Hizashi’s expression may have been. “Help.”

Still struck dumb by what he was trying to convince himself wasn’t a confession, Hizashi let the Heavenly Choir spill from his open mouth, unable to tear his gaze from the sight of the man he’d loved since he was fifteen arching up on the couch, straining to thrust into nothing at all before falling back down limp, his eyes rolling back in his head before sliding shut.

“You wanted it?” Hizashi asked in a small voice when Aizawa’s eyes fluttered open five minutes later. “You wanted…me?”

Eyes still averted, Aizawa nodded. “I’ve been a coward. A mess. I’m sorry. I tried to avoid you, and I shouldn’t have. Hizashi…I should have said this a long time ago. I still wouldn’t be saying it, except that I don’t have much time before I can’t think again. There’s so many people you’ve hooked up with that are better than me. I’ve been self-destructive and stupid and this is not the way I wanted to apologize to you.” His eyes squeezed shut again, hands fisted so tight that they trembled. The front of his pants was once again pointing hopefully at the ceiling.

This time, waiting for the Choir’s effects to wear off was agonizing for Hizashi. Aizawa was confessing, but to what exactly? It could have been just attraction. Lust. Despite his certain knowledge that Aizawa cared, ten years of waiting had taught him that it was easier not to hope, and even with hope dangled in front of him he couldn’t bring himself to reach out and take it.

He had to make sure, in no uncertain words, what Aizawa was saying.

“I love you,” he said quietly when Aizawa’s eyes focused on him again. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen.”

The other man sat up, now looking desperate on top of his usual seep-deprived and unshaven appearance. “Hizashi…” no further words followed the name, his eyes dropping to the palms of his hands, which were marked with angry red crescents from his nails biting into them. “I’ve been a jackass the last ten years, avoiding you. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d moved on. But you haven’t, and it’s been hurting both of us, and I can’t do it anymore. I love you. The quirk dosing may have ratcheted up the intensity of the feelings, but they’re all mine. I’ve never done…anything…with anyone, but I want to do it with you.” His expression gained a pained urgency. “I really want to do it with you. Right now.”

Well, he really couldn’t ask for clearer consent, now could he? Hizashi leaned forward to kiss Aizawa, vaguely aware that he had both hands buried in the other man’s thick, dark, loose hair. For all the need keeping Aizawa’s body tense, he seemed to almost relax under Hizashi’s touch and his hands found their way to his back, where they clung to his pajama top.

“I’m gonna get you off again,” Hizashi murmured into the kiss, “and then quick run to the drug store on the corner and get some condoms and lube. Unless you have any.”

A quick head-shake was all the answer he got.

“Okay.” Hizashi broke the kiss to put his lips on Aizawa’s throat, sucking gently. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do anything with you for the first time, but I’m gonna do the best I can. For you.”

The fingers on his back tightened.

Hizashi invoked the Choir.

The instant those fingers relaxed, he laid Aizawa gently on the couch and lunged for his wallet. Five minutes. He had five minutes to get supplies and get back in order to have any chance whatsoever of preparing one of them, and the logistics of sex with a virgin being driven insane by lust occupied a corner of his brain as he rattled down the stairs and sprinted for the drug store.

As he burst through the doors, his eyes darted from one side of the store to the other, not so much reading the signs over each aisle as just skimming them, working on reflex as he altered his course to charge down one of them. No time to think or compare; he grabbed the biggest box of condoms he saw, followed by the biggest bottle of lube, and then his brain whispered, dehydration. Luckily, what he needed was in the next aisle over and he grabbed three bottles of electrolyte solution at random – red, blue, clear – before reversing course and sprinting for the checkout.

A middle-aged lady was at the counter, the clerk in the middle of scanning what had to be twenty items. Hizashi made a rash decision.

“Emergency!” he shouted, nearly crashing into the counter and just barely not dropping his burden. He grabbed the scan gun and quickly rang in his purchases, glanced at the total, and opened his wallet. “Keep the change,” he told the woman as he threw down enough cash to cover everything that had already been rung up, and more. Then he was piling his supplies back into his arms and darting out the door, leaving clerk and customer confused and speechless.

Once outside again, Hizashi broke into a dead run and was vaulting up the stairs seconds later, pounding down the hall to slam into Aizawa’s door again. This time, he was the one to shut it behind himself and Aizawa was just starting to stir on the couch.

“Drink some of this,” he commanded, tossing one of the bottles over at random.

Aizawa caught it, then squinted at the label. “This is lube.”

“Don’t drink that,” Hizashi corrected himself, setting the rest of his burden down on the end table and picking up the other clear bottle. “Drink some of this. Don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

They traded bottles, Hizashi peeling the security wrapper off his while Aizawa downed several large swallows of electrolyte solution.

“Hizashi…” Aizawa screwed the cap back onto the bottle, not meeting the other man’s eyes. He swallowed. “I want to feel you. I think…the quirk was touch-based; I think touch is a component of the effect. When you kissed me…” He ducked his head, trying to hide in the binding cloths looped loosely around his neck, but it didn’t completely hide the flush on his cheeks.

Hizashi sat next to him on the couch, one arm sliding around his shoulders. “It makes sense,” he said softly. “Most people can’t evoke touchless orgasms the way I can. Bypassing the physical component probably contributed to you reloading so fast. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” murmured Aizawa as he leaned into that touch while trying to pretend he wasn’t. “It felt good. But the idea of you touching me…”

“That’s what we’ll do next, then.” The dark head on his shoulder was making Hizashi’s heart beat very fast. “I’ll just slip my hand into your pants. If that’s okay.”

Aizawa snorted. “Go ahead, but it’s a mess in there.”

“And it’s my fault that it is,” Hizashi pointed out, setting the bottle of lube on the floor.

Of course, there was a world of difference between announcing that he’d provide a handjob and actually reaching into the pants of the man he’d spent almost half his life quietly pining for, and who was now – through no will of his own – forcibly in need of his touch. Swallowing hard, Hizashi laid his hand on the thigh closest to his and slowly moved it towards the waistband of those soft black pants.

“I don’t care that the quirk is making you horny beyond all belief,” he said in a quiet voice that was nevertheless hard as steel. “If I’m doing something you don’t want me to do, something you don’t like, something that feels even the slightest bit not good, you tell me. Got it?”

Aizawa nodded, the motion startled and jerky.

“I’m serious,” he said in a gentler tone, hugging the other man closer. “This is your first time for everything. I’m doing it entirely for you. Just because the quirk is giving you no choice, that doesn’t mean you’re not in control. Even if you can’t say something..”

I know, signed Aizawa. His fingers hesitated, clenching into fists, and then they opened to sign, Please touch me.

Practically holding his breath, Hizashi moved his hand up under the hem of Aizawa’s shirt, causing the other man’s breath to hitch as skin touched skin and the hard muscles of his abdomen twitched under gently-questing fingers. Hizashi spread his hand, waiting until those muscles stilled and Aizawa’s breathing relaxed. Then he moved slowly, sliding his fingers under the waistband of pants and underwear both.

As promised, there was an uncomfortable wet patch. But there was also a warm, solid, lightly-twitching erection, and as he wrapped his fingers around it, Hizashi realized that he’d never actually seen what he was now holding. Aizawa shuddered and turned, burying his face in Hizashi’s shoulder, hips trying to buck into his hand. The arm he’d had around Aizawa’s shoulders shifted to mid-back and he turned as well, shifting his grip to a more comfortable angle while offering Aizawa the dubious shelter of his chest. Somehow, between shifting to get comfortable and shifting to get closer, Aizawa wound up half-straddling Hizashi’s lap with his arms around the slender man’s back, grinding instinctively into the hand slowly stroking his thick, hard length.

Hizashi found himself making soothing sounds, soft trills and hums like he used to make when they were students and his friend was caught in the grip of a panic jag. And just like back then, Aizawa relaxed against him, the sounds teasing tension out of his muscles. The motions of his hand became almost meditative, a slow up-and-down that suddenly, jarringly, turned into broken breath and a hot splatter against his wrist. He pulled his hand out as Aizawa practically melted in his arms, shifting them both on the couch so that he could lean against the back and Aizawa could lean against his chest.

“That was so good,” murmured Aizawa, the words almost a sleepy purr. “Touching you feels so good, ‘Zashi. I’m sorry I was avoiding you. I was dumb.”

“You were hurting,” Hizashi countered, one hand cupping the back of Aizawa’s head. “I’m not going to blame you for being hurt. How are you feeling?”

“Too good to feel ashamed,” came the dry answer. “But it’s not going to last. I can feel it starting to gnaw on me again.”

“How long do we have, do you think?”

“Mmm. Time. It’s slow. Distant. Your touch quiets the hunger.”

Hizashi’s arms tightened around him. “Sir, were you aware that I’ve wanted to hold you like this for the last decade?”

Although Aizawa didn’t say anything, the way he went still and ducked his head against Hizashi’s shoulder spoke volumes.

“I know I seem like I’m taking this in stride,” he continued, “but it’s only because one of us has to think rationally right now, and you’re disqualified. Inside, I’m running in circles gibbering because…” He took a breath to steady his voice. “…because I’d almost given up hope of you coming back to me.”

“I was an idiot,” Aizawa muttered darkly. “I was an idiot, and I hurt you, and I want to make it up to you somehow but all I can think of is you and how much I want to touch you and have you touch me in the deepest way possible. Your hand was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Mmm. Should we try my mouth next, or do you want to skip to the main event?”

Aizawa froze again, and Hizashi could feel the heat coming off of his cheeks.

“My mind’s telling me no,” he sang softly, teasingly, “but my body – my body’s telling me yes…”

That got a snort out of the man in his arms. “Exactly. Even though I have no idea what I’d be doing.”

“I’ve got experience,” Hizashi said slowly, “but it’s all bottoming. I’ve never topped.”

“Then how do we…?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. And with what the quirk effect seems to want – I mean, are you fantasizing about me being in you…or you being in me?”

The agonized groan that got made him smile.

“Yeah, I thought so. How about this? We’ll get naked – or at least get you out of those wet undies – before things get urgent again, and I’ll blow your mind. That’ll give me the chance to see what I’m working with and how much I’ll need to prepare, and then when you’re ready to go again, you just sit there and I’ll do all the work.”

“That…sounds good,” Aizawa said reluctantly. “Really good. But what if it doesn’t satisfy the quirk?”

“Then we keep going.” Hizashi shrugged. “We should have plenty of condoms and lube, and of course the electrolyte drinks…”

“…and if that’s not enough? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then I run back to the drug store,” Hizashi said soothingly, “and buy a bottle of Nyquil and you do shots until you pass out.”

Aizawa snorted again, then paused. “That’s…actually a decent plan. I think. It’s hard to focus.”

“Then it’s time I show you the skills that won me so many repeat hookups,” Hizashi said loftily, one hand patting Aizawa’s back. “Come on, time to get those pants off of you. Do you want me to strip, too?”

The dark-haired man slowly sat up, seeming to realize for the first time that he was straddling Hizashi’s lap, and then got distracted taking in what Hizashi was wearing.

His eyes narrowed.

“You…went to a drug store.”

“Yes.”

“Dressed like that.”

“…yes?” Hizashi, too, seemed to have forgotten what he was wearing, because he glanced down, blinked, and swallowed a laugh. “Oh my god. Taachan, I’m a cryptid now.”

The slight widening of Aizawa’s eyes was the only expression he allowed of the horror growing in him. “What did you do?”

Hizashi covered his mouth with both hands, taking a moment to compose himself. “I pushed a lady aside,” he said, voice muffled by fingers. “Grabbed the scan gun. Added my stuff to hers. Threw down cash and told her to keep the change. Grabbed my stuff and ran. But the worst part…”

“Is that you were wearing that?”

“No, the worst part is that as I ran up, I yelled, Emergency!”

“You…”

“And I bought condoms. And lube. And three liters of the stuff no one drinks unless they’re super dehydrated.”

Aizawa looked away and climbed off to cover that he was struggling to hold back a smile and, possibly, laughter. “Somehow,” he said gruffly as he turned his back to the couch, “that is the most you thing I’ve ever heard of you doing.”

“They’re going to tell stories about me for years,” Hizashi declared gleefully. “I’m a cryptid! The Sex Emergency person-of-indeterminate-gender in pink pajamas.”

Whatever else he was going to say got forgotten as Aizawa’s pants dropped to the floor, followed by his underwear.

“Shit,” whispered Hizashi, eyes riveted to the ass he hadn’t expected to be as gorgeous as it was. Then his eyes dropped to the thighs on display as Aizawa half-turned in curiosity. “Fuck.”

“Problem?”

“You’re too sexy,” Hizashi complained insincerely, arms crossed.

One eyebrow raised. “Should I take my shirt off?”

“Please don’t. I don’t want to have to juggle my sexual crisis on top of yours.”

The ghost of a smile warmed Aizawa’s face. “Later, then. When this is over, and I have a chance to make things up to you.”

Hizashi made a sound that could only be described as a squeak. “You want…”

“You,” Aizawa said quietly, back turned to the other man, hands once again fisted. “I want you. In my life. We can discuss the details later, but I want to apologize for having avoided you for so long and…” He took a deep breath. “…and we’re running out of time before I try to do something I don’t want to do to you.”

That snapped Hizashi out of his budding crisis. “Right. Get on the couch, get comfortable. Slouch a little,” he said as they swapped positions, keeping his eyes firmly on Aizawa’s face. “Really comfortable. Lean back. That’s better,” he said, still keeping his eyes up as he knelt between those amazing thighs. “Do you want to wear a condom for this? Not all guys are comfortable with their naked wang in someone else’s mouth. It will dampen some of the sensations, though.”

“No condom,” declared Aizawa. “I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

“Okay, okay.” Hizashi stroked the other man’s thighs like he was running his hands down the backs of two large cats. “No condom. It’s okay. Just relax.”

Resolutely, Aizawa closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the back of the couch, relaxing minutely under the continued attention from the hands on his thighs. Hizashi dropped his eyes to what he had been avoiding looking at, and had to swallow.

He wanted that. He wanted that in him, and he wanted it badly. Aizawa’s dick might have seemed a little on the underwhelming side, if the observer had been planning to put it in an orifice with more elasticity, or was only used to judging cocks on the way they would fit into a vagina. The human anus – barring quirk enhancement – had a much more stringent set of requirements, and Hizashi had experimented enough over the years to know exactly what he enjoyed most.

If he had been asked to model the ideal penis, based on what he wanted to get fucked by, he would have come up with exactly what he was staring at. Not so long that he couldn’t ride it comfortably, but not short enough that he risked accidental dismounting, and thick enough that it would fill him up without being too thick to manage without preparation – or pain.

Absently, his hands moved further up Aizawa’s legs, thumbs rubbing little circles on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, closing in on his package like lionesses surrounding their prey. The thought that not only was Aizawa’s cock his personal definition of perfect, but that he was about to give him his first blowjob, kept distracting and nearly short-circuiting him.

After what seemed like forever, he lowered his head and kissed one thigh while the opposite hand took the initiative and closed around that velvety-steel length, stroking with the fingers and caressing with the thumb, lips inching closer and closer until they touched the base of that warm column.

Aizawa’s thighs trembled.

Still stroking, Hizashi teased the impending contact with kisses going from the base all the way to the head, tongue gently caressing that sensitive skin, breath making Aizawa shiver – but he couldn’t bring himself to take the next step, and it took him a minute to figure out why.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, one hand kneading a thigh and the other working Aizawa’s shaft. “I’m used to doing this as payment for a return favor. It just feels wrong to treat you like tha-”

A hitch in Aizawa’s breathing interrupted his thought, and when he glanced up, he realized that his words must have fallen on deaf ears because the other man was about a breath away from orgasm.

He could salvage this after all.

Hizashi leaned forward, just barely taking the head of Aizawa’s cock into his mouth, swiping it with his tongue and triggering the orgasm that had been looming.

As he climbed onto the couch to pull Aizawa into his arms, he couldn’t help but judge the man’s recent diet by what he’d just tasted, and the thought crossed his mind that maybe, if Aizawa had been sincere about wanting him in his life, he could make sure his future Husband™ started eating better. But for the moment, he grabbed the bottle of unflavored electrolyte solution and poured enough into his mouth that he could wash down any lingering taste. Most guys, in his experience, did not want to taste themselves in a kiss afterwards. Their fault for not eating better, as far as he was concerned, but he wasn’t going to get that invested in the dietary health of recurring hookups unless they were also friends.

Boy, that was going to be an awkward conversation with Aizawa. Some day. Not today.

Today, he was holding the love of his life in his arms, listening to his breath as he drifted in afterglow, knowing that not only had he caused that, but that he’d do it again – and that, even without the quirk forcing Aizawa’s hand, he’d still wanted it. That, when this was all over, there was an excellent chance his Husband™ would be coming home with him.

Emboldened by that hopeful thought, Hizashi lowered his head and laid a handful of delicate kisses on the line of Aizawa’s jaw, remembering how that stubble had felt when he’d been kissed, one hand slipping up under Aizawa’s shirt to explore the abdomen he had yet to see. If the lower half of his body was any indication, his friend had filled out quite nicely over the last decade, and thinking about that did new and intriguing things to his cock. That wasn’t to say that Hizashi had never had a boner, because he was almost shamefully experienced in most common sex acts and had experimented with some that weren’t so common. But until he’d seen Aizawa’s ass and thighs – not to mention his package – Hizashi had never actually lusted after anyone.

To be honest, this was making him question what he’d thought his sexuality was.

Aizawa stirred, drawing in a deeper breath and turning, tilting his head up and pressing his lips to Hizashi’s.

“Mmm. Back with me, Taachan?”

“Yeah.” One hand crept up to tangle in Hizashi’s hair as he went back for another kiss. “Hizashi?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to be exhausted when this quirk lets go of me.”

“Makes sense.”

Aizawa went still in his arms, expression some blend of despair and pleading. “Will you stay?”

Flavors of heartbreak flashed through Hizashi’s mind, one after the other: that his friend could be so badly in need of companionship; that, at the same time, Aizawa was not confident in his chances of getting it from him; the realization that he’d never fully healed through the PTSD that had made him such a light sleeper in UA; that it took having a quirk literally driving him into Hizashi’s arms before he could ask for that comfort. He thought about saying something reassuring – Of course I’ll stay. Saying something romantic – I’ve dreamed about holding you while you slept. But this was a show of incredibly vulnerability, and drawing attention directly to it wasn’t what Aizawa needed.

“Sleepover,” he announced cheerfully. “I’ve already got my PJs on. We can order pizza for dinner and have the leftovers for breakfast!”

The despair bled out of Aizawa’s eyes, and he smiled faintly. “Another good plan. I’m glad you’re thinking clearly, because I am absolutely not. Even when the hunger isn’t riding me, all I can think about is your touch.”

Hizashi brought one hand up to cup the other man’s cheek, heart fluttering into his throat at the way he leaned into it so easily, eyes slipping shut. “How did you manage to resist it for as long as you did?”

Aizawa snorted. “I’ve spent the last decade denying my attraction to you, physical and emotional. I didn’t even realize this was something out of the ordinary for the first hour and a half.”

“Well,” Hizashi said softly, “you don’t have to do that anymore. Or ever again.”

Under his hand, Aizawa trembled slightly, then turned to kiss Hizashi’s palm. “I want to feel you,” he murmured. “When we…do that. I want to touch every part of you.”

“Shirt off, then. I’d been wondering if you wanted me to. Do you want me to touch every part of you, too?”

Aizawa smiled faintly into his palm. “Can you juggle your sexual crisis and mine at the same time?”

“Good point. How about we wait until the ride is about to begin, and then take our shirts off at the same time? I mean…we’re already going to be fucking, what are we going to do, super fuck?”

That got an amused snort. “Not sure I’d object to super-fucking, the way this quirk is affecting me. If I run across that girl again, I’m restraining her with the binding cloths before she can bolt and taking her in. I have no doubt she’s used her quirk on other people who tried to bring her in, and if what I’m experiencing is any indication, she’s guilty of quirk-induced sexual assault for every one of them.”

“Tell me about her tomorrow,” Hizashi said lightly. “For now, I wanna get both of us prepped for the main event.”

“What do I…?”

“Get comfy again.” Hizashi stood up and crossed to the other end of the couch, grabbing the box of condoms and tearing it impatiently open. “Have you ever put one of these on?” At Aizawa’s frown, he said, “Okay, I’ll put it on you. Wait. How much do you care about that couch? I can take semen stains off, but lube is trickier.”

Aizawa snorted. “I don’t care about the couch.”

“Alright then, let’s get this party started!” Hizashi ripped open a condom and knelt down to roll it expertly over the erection that had reappeared at some point, stroking a few times in a firm, downward motion that got a muffled groan and aborted hip thrust. “Patience,” he murmured, patting Aizawa’s thigh. Then he stood and slid his pajama pants and underwear down, shaking his hips to make them fall to the floor and revealing his own half-hard length.

He’d never considered it anything but average, but the suddenly-hungry look on Aizawa’s face as he went still, all his attention on it like a predator spotting prey, gave him a thrill that meant he wouldn’t need to stroke himself to full erection.

“Iiiiiiii’m coming up,” he sang in a deeper voice than most people would have expected from him, rolling the second condom down as he did, “so you better get this party started. Iiiiiii’m coming up, so you better get this party started!”

“Ready when you are,” quipped Aizawa dryly.

Hizashi grabbed the forgotten bottle of lube from the floor and popped the lid open. Smearing himself with it was only slightly awkward, and then he was dribbling it onto Aizawa’s latex-sheathed cock. “I know what I’m doing,” he said as he straddled those gorgeous thighs, “but this is still a one-man show. Audience participation is discouraged for the moment. Keep that ass glued to the couch until I say so,” he clarified, putting one hand on the back of the couch for balance.

Using every trick he’d learned in his years of experience, Hizashi slowly settled down onto Aizawa’s erection. It was a tantalizing experience, tight muscles and relaxing and rising up to apply more lube before sinking back down. The sounds he was stifling couldn’t be helping, but he also couldn’t not make sounds with how damn good that dick felt going in. Finally, Aizawa was buried to the hilt and they were both a hair away from losing all control.

“Shirts,” Hizashi gasped, pulling his pajama top off.

Aizawa stripped his off in record time, exposing a muscled chest that made Hizashi feel like the palest, skinny twink in the history of twinks, but he had no time to feel self-conscious because Aizawa was growling, both hands sliding up his abdomen to spread greedily over Hizashi’s pecs, and at the last second he remembered a warning he hadn’t given.

“I’m going to vocal-lock,” he gasped. “Just follow my lead. Don’t worry about doing something wrong; if I need you to stop I’ll just grab your face.”

Aizawa nodded jerkily and leaned forward for a kiss. Hizashi returned it eagerly, starting a slow, grinding motion, and then all control vanished and he was riding, the hips beneath him bucking, hands roaming over skin and lips breaking apart, coming together, fastening on neck or shoulder, teeth grazing, moans caught in throats or vibrating into flesh, muscles tightening, heads being thrown back, lips on throats, hands in hair, on hips, pounding, pounding, pounding towards the glorious abyss that Hizashi had never wanted to lose himself in as desperately as he did now.

As the world blanked out into bliss, he could hear the deep, almost pained noise of his Husband™ coming inside him.

===

Lips woke Hizashi, peppering the skin of his chest before traipsing up his throat and jaw to pluck gently but insistently at his lips. The scratch of stubble was what actually roused him from his post-coital daze, reminding him most deliciously of how he’d gotten there in the first place.

The hand on his thigh didn’t hurt, either.

“I need you,” Aizawa murmured into his mouth as he returned that insistent kiss. “I need to feel you. I need to be in you. Your touch is like water, and I’m dying of thirst. I’m sorry-”

Hizashi tilted his head up, capturing Aizawa’s mouth in a deeper kiss and swallowing the rest of the apology. “I’m here for you,” he said when the kiss broke, slowly coming to the realization that he was on his back on the couch, and Eraser was crouched over him. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you. Do you need to get off so you can think clearly for a minute?”

Aizawa buried his face in the side of Hizashi’s neck with a groan. “Don’t know.”

Softly, Hizashi hummed the frequency that made men’s pants tight and women’s wet. A minute later, he felt Aizawa’s erection against his thigh, the other man grinding blindly. He wormed one hand down to grasp it, unsurprised to discover that the condom had fallen off, and kept humming as his desperate Husband™ fucked his fist.

He was going to have to find some tissues, because he was not going to just wipe his hand on his host’s couch, regardless of if he could clean it up or not. That was just rude. Carefully, he slithered out from underneath Aizawa, leaving the other man drowsing on the couch while he located some take-out napkins and cleaned himself up. Then he fished two more condoms out, grabbed the lube, and turned to be immediately struck absolutely gay by the gorgeous muscled back he was not expecting his friend to have. Maybe he should have been, considering that incredible chest, but any further thoughts cheerfully vacated to make room for the sheer, unbridled lust Aizawa’s naked body aroused in him. And speaking of aroused, he rolled one condom down onto his erection before he could get distracted again. Judging by their positioning when he woke up, Aizawa was going to want to be more of an active participant the next time, but Hizashi was not confident in the idea of letting him do the penetrating.

Quickly, he hauled his friend up to a slumped sitting position. He could seat himself and then wrap his legs around Aizawa’s waist, hold himself in place as the other man stood up, and keep them connected until Aizawa had settled on a position.

Frankly, the thought that Aizawa wanted to fuck him was making his breath catch as he straddled those amazing thighs and let his hands wander over the deliciously muscled chest he hadn’t ever dreamed could exist. It didn’t take long for Aizawa to stir, dark eyes watching him with the lazy contentment of a sated panther, a low hum of appreciation caught in his throat.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, making Hizashi squeak at the unexpected compliment. “Keep touching me,” he added hastily as the hands on his chest stilled. “Keep touching me and tell me what the plan is.”

Hizashi took a steadying breath and let his hands wander again. “I’m going to put a new condom on you and lube myself up. You’re going to hold still while I seat myself and then I’ll hold myself in place and you can put us in whatever position you want.”

The implication was not lost on Aizawa, breath catching in his throat making Hizashi certain he’d guessed right.

“Good plan,” Aizawa said shakily, forcibly pulling away hands that Hizashi hadn’t realized were on his hips until they were gone.

It took only moments to get the other man sheathed, and then once again the Voice Hero was smothering sounds as he worked his way down that perfect shaft. A kiss was incentive enough for Aizawa to lean forward, arms wrapping around the slender man as he rocked to one side and then the other, moving his legs until he could get them around Aizawa’s waist. A nice side effect of those pole-dancing lessons, he thought, arms now locked around tantalizingly firm shoulders.

“Your turn,” he murmured as lips found his throat. “However you want me, Taachan...I’m yours to take.”

Those lips vibrated against his skin as a groan rumbled in Aizawa’s throat and then there was a hitch, a lunge, and Hizashi’s dick pulsed in sudden excitement at the realization that he was being carried...somewhere. Brute strength had never been a turn-on of his, but somehow it was different when it was the love of his life carrying him effortlessly and then laying him down on - a bed?

“This may be a quirk effect,” growled Aizawa, lips decorating Hizashi’s jaw with kisses, “but I won’t let it ruin this. We’ve both waited too long for it. We’re going to do it properly, quirk be damned. I will not just use you for my pleasure, no matter how willing you are to be used, and we will be talking about that later,” he finished ominously.

You’re hot when you’re angry, Hizashi thought, hands drifting over the muscled back he’d been admiring earlier, but all that came out was a small, quiet “Okay.”

Satisfied by this lack of protest, Aizawa lifted his head and hesitated before lowering his mouth to Hizashi’s in a slow and uncertain but absolutely deliberate kiss. Unlike the first desperate assault, where Hizashi had been pinned to the door, this kiss was implicitly asking for permission to exist - permission that Hizashi granted eagerly, hands sliding up into the tangled mass of Aizawa’s thick, dark hair as if he meant to hold the other man’s head in place.

“Zashi,” he breathed into the mouth of the man beneath him, “Ariga-”

A finger on his lips cut off the rest of the word.

“I want this,” Hizashi murmured, catching Aizawa’s eyes with his own. “You’re right. We have waited too long for it. So pretend that you took me out to a fancy restaurant and we came back to your place and spent a while kissing and slowly reaching this point, just you and me and our feelings being shared and we both want to take things to the next level, so you’re going to make love to me and I’m going to be there in the morning when you open your eyes to find that it was not all a dream. Okay? No quirk dosing. No apologies. Just you and me, opening our hearts to each other and making promises with our bodies.”

Slowly, the tangled emotions of Aizawa’s expression thawed into tired affection. “Okay,” he said softly, kissing the finger still pressed to his lips and making Hizashi squeak again.

This time, when he lowered his head for a kiss, it came with gently experimenting thrusts that Hizashi encouraged with small sounds, his legs relaxing from around Aizawa’s waist to caress his thighs. Although he could feel the sexual tension in his friend’s body, the quirk-induced lust demanding satisfaction, Aizawa’s motions were gentle and deliberate and it didn’t take long before the fantasy he’d described overwrote the less-fortunate aspects of the situation. Aizawa was kissing him, haphazardly, breaking away to make little sounds of pleasure, burying his face in Hizashi’s neck as he worked both of them closer and closer to release and bliss. When Hizashi judged that they were close enough, he began the hip-shimmy he’d learned as a child, the skill meant for Polynesian dancing applied to the horizontal mambo. Startled by this unexpected sensation, Aizawa cried out as his control was swept away, hips working absently, trying to drive himself deeper and deeper into Hizashi, who was discovering that watching his Husband™ fall apart was surprisingly arousing, and his own orgasm made the world dissolve as Aizawa melted against him.

When he could think again, Hizashi rolled them over so he could remove the used condoms before they spilled - and then lay back down to admire the peaceful expression on Aizawa’s perpetually-exhausted face. For several minutes, he just drank in the sight and caressed dark, sweaty hair, floating in something sweeter than afterglow, his heart and mind full of awe that all these years, Aizawa wanted him. His feelings were not unrequited, and there was an excellent chance that in the morning, he would not be going back to his apartment alone.

Eventually, he realized that unnatural lust was not waking his friend, and held his mental breath as he counted out five minutes. When Aizawa remained deep in slumber at the end of the count, Hizashi groped around for a blanket and pulled it over both of them, shamelessly snuggling closer to his sleeping host before letting sleep claim him, as well.

===

Aizawa woke slowly, his body aching in unexpected ways, the feeling that he’d forgotten something important nagging at him through the fog clouding his mind. Blearily, he pried his eyes open and spent a long minute staring at the empty bed in front of him, wondering why that unremarkable sight filled him with despair, until the sound of the toilet flushing brought him instantly awake and ready for a fight despite being...naked?

As he crouched on the bed, memories from the day before filtering in, Hizashi stepped into sight and stopped in the doorway, surprise fading quickly into a sunny smile, his hair long and loose, wearing the mismatched pink pajamas Aizawa vaguely remembered.

“You’re awake!” Hizashi chirped. “How do you feel?”

How did he feel? Aizawa frowned. Physically, he’d been worse. Slightly tired, hungry, sore from the unexpected exertion of-

Hizashi’s grin widened as his Husband™ short-circuited, the memories of what they’d done no doubt coming back with a questionable level of clarity. He took the opportunity to perch on the bed and plant a gentle kiss on Aizawa’s cheek.

“I know I said pizza party,” he said innocently, “but you kinda crashed and then I crashed and no one delivers pizza this early. How about we do breakfast instead?”

“Sure,” Aizawa agreed absently, still looking more than a little stunned by everything.

Humming, Hizashi pulled his phone out from...somewhere...and began flipping through apps. At some point, Aizawa found himself sitting next to the blond, one arm around his shoulders and his head on one pink-clad shoulder. He tried to focus on the phone’s screen, but bits of memory kept distracting him as they played out of order, jostling for attention. Warm lips on his temple finally chased them away, leaving him sitting naked in bed and being hugged by an obnoxiously cheerful cockatoo of a man.

“I...” Aizawa trailed off, not sure what he’d intended to say.

“You love me,” Hizashi said quietly, somehow managing to imbue the words with sparkles and awe.

Warmth rushed to Aizawa’s cheeks. He ducked his head reflexively, but the binding cloths were not there to hide his blush. “I do,” he replied in an equally quiet voice. “Hizashi, I’m-” Before the word sorry could make it past his lips, he closed them and took a breath. “I’m not sorry for what we did,” he said slowly. “I am sorry that it took being quirk-dosed to make me see what an idiot I’d been and how much I’d been hurting both of us. Thank you for not leaving.”

The arm around his shoulders tightened slightly. “I wouldn’t just leave you alone after that, Taachan. I don’t want to leave you alone at all. Ever.”

Slowly, feeling almost afraid to think of the implications of that word, Aizawa raised his head to meet the bright, almost-glowing green eyes that Hizashi kept hidden so often. “What are you saying?” he asked, feeling stupid but wanting the clarification before he leaped to any conclusions.

“Come home with me. You said you’d been denying your feelings for me, right? You don’t need to do that anymore. You don’t need to deny yourself anything when it comes to me.”

That made him frown at the memory of how eager Hizashi had been to offer the use of his body. “We need to talk about you letting yourself be used,” he said darkly, trying to keep his outrage from turning the words into a growl.

To his surprise, Hizashi flinched and looked away. “We need to talk about a lot of things,” he countered quietly. “But we can do that later. You need to eat, and I need to eat even more, and food will be here shortly. But I can answer the door in my pajamas. You can’t answer the door naked.”

A spark of humor wormed its way past all the complex and tangled emotions in Aizawa’s heart. “Sure I can,” he deadpanned. “I just can’t ever order delivery again.”

Hizashi let out a silent bark of breath instead of laughter. “Taachan, no. I’m not going to let you answer the door naked. You need to put some clothes on and cover that gorgeous body of yours up.”

“You’re the gorgeous one,” he shot back, but the human cockatoo flinched again.

“I don’t think I am,” he said quietly, answering the concern in Aizawa’s eyes. “We can talk about it later, okay? Food first- okay no, clothes first for you, then food, then we talk about you moving out of here and in with me, and once we’ve got that sorted out, then we can talk about everything else. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss everything,” he added with a flickering smile. “We’ll have our entire lives.”

All the anxiety, the self-worth issues, the depression that had hung in his mind like a cloud of doom for the last ten years shouted a hundred reasons why this wouldn’t, couldn’t work. He told them all to go to hell and leaned forward to kiss the lips of the man who broke through everything like the sun shining through the thickest clouds.

“Our entire lives,” he agreed, feeling the tiniest bit smug and proud at the way it made Hizashi squeak.

The doorbell rang.

“You get that,” he told his starry-eyed guest. I’ll put some clothes on.” He waited until Hizashi was at the door before adding, “or maybe I won’t.”

The blond stopped dead, turning to give him a stern look over one shoulder. “You do that, and neither of us are going to get any breakfast before it gets cold,” he chided. “We’ll have plenty of time to do that after we eat.”

Lips twitching with the effort of holding back a smile, he watched as his human cockatoo flounced out of sight to answer the door. He still wanted to track that girl down and hand her to the police, of course, and she was still guilty of sexual assault via quirk use. But the future was looking significantly brighter than it had the day before.

Smirking at the reaction he was bound to get, he stood and pulled on a pair of loose, dark pants before following in Hizashi’s wake.

He didn’t bother with a shirt.