numbertwohero | @microwaveable

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@microwaveable

His mother has good days and bad days.

On the good days, she's sweet and kind. She greets him with a hand on his cheek and a smile, she asks him how his classes are going, she remembers the friends he mentions and teases him about being popular with the girls. They go for long walks in the facility grounds and she tells him about the plants she's growing in the little space they've let her have, and he ends the visit with a hug, her thin, fragile form in his careful arms, and he wonders at how much smaller than him she is already. On the good days, he leaves with hope and renewed determination to become the best he can be, to show his father that number two isn't just second place and it's a place and a life to be proud of.

This was not a good day.

This was the kind of day where he opened her door and she looked at him for that first second with fear and hatred and sorrow, where her eyes lingered on his left side too long, no matter how much he tried to keep her on his right. This was the kind of day where every response was distracted and her voice too high-pitched and her laughter sharp and strained. This was the day that, when he reached out to stop her from walking in front of a speeding golf cart full of groundskeepers, she flinched from his touch and slapped him across the face.

She'd apologized, horror on her face and heartbreak in her voice, and he'd said it was fine, and he loved her, but he left soon after, hurrying back towards the school dorms where he could just...shut himself away. It was still early on Sunday. Everyone would still be out, or training, and he could have time to put himself back together. His right cheek is still burning from her slap, stinging and red and almost bruised, and it aches with a pain sharper and more real than the phantom ache of his scarred left side. It's a strange feeling. Normally that side doesn't feel hot. Everything is backwards. Everything is backwards, and his chest is tight, and he can feel the tears trying to burn at his eyes, but it's fine, he's almost there--

--and then he rounds the corner of the stairs heading up towards the fourth floor, and almost runs straight into Midoriya, coming down. Todoroki's eyes are wide, almost glassy, and his heart is racing, and it's only a second before he looks away, not quite flinching but all but vibrating with tension.

"...Sorry. I didn't see you there."

His voice is rough, strained, just as tight as his shoulders, and he waits for Midoriya to keep on going, to be tactful or distracted or whatever it is he needs to be, so he can finally make it up that last flight to his own floor and the safety of his room.

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It's not like he's going to make much of a secret of it, honestly. At least not to Izuku. Shouto's always been pretty honest with his classmate, right from the very beginning. This isn't so different--at least, not in that regard. In fact, he might want to do it again sooner rather than later. Especially if Izuku's going to keep saying things like that.

Shouto bites back another noise as Izuku nips at his ear, the sound half motivated by the feeling and half by his words. He likes it when Shouto talks? He wants to hear...

"Can we take these off?" He tugs at the waistband of Izuku's pants, shifts his own hips underneath him to indicate his own. "I want to feel you against me." It's a little embarrassing to say--almost as embarrassing as just how needy his voice sounds, husky and breathless--but saying the words gives him almost as much of a rush as the idea of it all.

A little embarrassing for sure-- it makes Izuku's ears turn scarlet and he has to stop and stare through Shouto for a moment. He asked to be told, but the reality of it is he's stunned by how frank he is. It's a good thing, because if he wants to feel him it's already several steps further on the intimacy scale, but... Wow. He swallows, nodding quickly, and disentangles himself from his classmate just for a moment.

"Yeah, we can... yeah. Um." He shifts his hands to the waistband of his own shorts, giving Shouto a questioning glance. He doesn't actually ask, but he wants to make sure he really wants this down to almost complete nakedness. He's still wearing boxers, sure, but--

Oh God his boxers are also All Might, aren't they.

The way Izuku stops and stares makes Shouto freeze for a moment, his expression questioning. Is it too much? He'd thought Izuku had suggested it himself, earlier, but maybe he'd misunderstood. Maybe it was too much, too fast. Maybe he should stop.

Shouto shifts as Izuku pulls away, one hand lightly touching his wrist, the other on his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. "We don't have to, if you don't want to. This is okay, too. I just--want to do this, with you." He doesn't want to push too fast and ruin it. But also, his jeans have been getting progressively less comfortable and he really, really does want this. He wouldn't have said it if he wasn't sure.

"Oh-- no, no it's fine, I just." He can't articulate what's caused his brain to come to a screeching halt except that it's how he works. It's like the gears were moving too fast and something suddenly got tossed in the middle of them, so he's trying to figure out how to get things rolling again. Izuku.exe has stopped functioning, despite the fact that they've been rubbing all up on each other for upwards of thirty minutes. He scrunches his face, pressing his cheek into Shouto's hand.

"I do want to," he explains, voice quiet but still a little gravely from their actions. "I just got kinda caught up in my head about it I guess?"

Shouto listens as Izuku tries to explain. It's not a lack of want, he says, he just gets...caught in his head. Not that surprising. Izuku is always thinking, his thoughts always a mile a minute. He's smart as anything, and he applies himself. It's good, but it's also probably gotten in his way more than a few times, hasn't it?

Shouto watches him, doing some thinking of his own. And after a moment, he nods slowly, coming to his conclusions. "So...let me help?" The words are quiet, a little tentative. He's not sure how, exactly, but maybe if he can get Izuku to focus on him, instead...leaning in, he pulls Izuku close, into a lingering kiss. One kiss leads to another, his aim to get Izuku to relax into the touch, his fingers a gentle pressure on Izuku's jaw, and after a long moment his other hand slides from Izuku's wrist to the waistband of his shorts, tugging gently. Maybe if it's like this, it'll feel like less pressure?

Midoriya Izuku is nothing if not A Lot Of Thinking At All Times, really. He would probably argue most of Todoroki's own narrative on it-- for one, he was book-smart because he spent more time reading books and studying heroes than he did having proper conversations with most living humans, and he applied himself because he'd spent his first fourteen years slacking the fuck off sulking over not being as awesome as a jerkwad he looked up to.

Luckily none of that has to be discussed, because it was all internal. Shouto, at least, has the sense to keep things simple, to assess quietly and take action accordingly, rather than let his gears come to a screeching halt and stumble over how to even explain what happened. Bless Shouto, really.

And his plan works perfectly, in fact-- Izuku almost immediately melts into the touch, eyes sliding closed while his own fingers settle against Shouto's collarbones. It's not until the slim fingers of Shouto's wandering hand tug at his shorts that he catches on to the intent of it all, and he draws away with a shy, but absolutely teasing smile.

"Shoucchan, that's sneaky." He doesn't even realize he's outfitted him with his very own petname.

For a moment as Izuku pulls back, Shouto can feel his brain trying to go back into I-hecked-up mode, but it only takes a glimpse of that smile to make the momentary impulse vanish. That smile, and the name that goes with it, a name that sends a brand new rush of warmth through him that's got nothing at all to do with arousal and everything to do with what he feels for the boy in front of him. He can feel his own lips curling in a small smile as well, an almost mischievous look as he tugs lightly at that waistband.

"Is it? I thought I was helping," he answers, and the lightness in his smile is matched by something equally light in his voice. "I did offer." And he does mean it. If Izuku really wants this, he's more than happy to help make it happen. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against Izuku's again, the lightest of touches. Although he can't quite help ask what slips out next...

"Shoucchan, huh?"

It's Shouto's smile that softens his own mischievous expression, his eyes creasing at the corners. Smiles from Shouto were a rare and precious thing, something he offered in moderation and always seemed to mean so wholly and genuinely it made Izuku's jaw hurt like he'd eaten something too sweet. The mischief returns to his smile as he opts to tug at the waistband of his shorts again, and he wiggles to encourage his tugging on them, letting them slip lower on his hips.

"You are," he breathes, closing his eyes over and completely willing to let himself get lost in the moment--

--up until Shouto calls him out on a nickname he didn't even consciously administer. He blinks, wide eyes wider, and recoils enough to look at him. Shoucchan?? Had he said that out loud...?? Bright, flustered color crawls up his neck into his face and his ears practically steam, and he hunkers down into his shoulders slowly, making a series of small, embarrassed chirping sounds.

"I-- oh, wow, I didn't... mean to say that out loud, I'm so sorry."

He probably shouldn't have said anything at all about the name, but he just couldn't help it. No one has ever given him a name like that before. And hearing the way Izuku says it, the softness in his voice and that shy smile, that only made him feel more fiercely tender about the entire thing. Maybe that's why he couldn't not say it, and maybe that's why he refuses to let Izuku withdraw into his shell like a turtle this time. Fingers slip under his chin, and Shouto looks at him directly, no hesitation at all on his face. "Don't be sorry," he tells the other boy. "I like it." He likes the way it sounds, coming from Izuku. He likes the way it makes him feel. Special. Wanted.

Carefully, gently, he brushes another kiss against Izuku's lips, and then another, fingers exploring over new skin bared as the other's shorts slide lower, once again trying to get him out of his own head--and maybe still a little out of his pants.

He makes a squashed sort of sound, still embarrassed, but allows Shouto to chide him about it anyway. His ears burn scarlet and he's tense, but he doesn't squirm out of his grip or break the eye contact when it's initiated, not until he lets his eyes fall closed as Shouto gets too close for him to look at without going crosseyed. Then he's humming, quietly against his lips, and shimmies just enough to encourage the motion below, determined to not let his overthinking get in the way of this for what has to be the millionth time.

"I could just take them off," he grumbles softly, curling his hands into fists at Shouto's collarbone. "But you'd have to do the same."

Shouto doesn't take very much encouraging at all, honestly. He wants to touch, wants to feel--and he wants to help. Izuku might get caught in his head more often than not, but Shouto's a fast learner. He can help the other boy find a way back out again.

The grumbled words make him smile again, a small expression but enough to be felt against Izuku's lips. "Well, it wouldn't be fair if it was only one of us, right?" The words are husky, barely a murmur, and Shouto's hands lower to the fly of his own pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, before sliding back over Izuku's hips, tugging his shorts downwards again. It's a team effort, really.

He really does get caught in his own head a lot-- and almost spins right back into it as he watches Shouto's hands temporarily leave his shorts to work on removing his own pants. He's caught by a sudden sensation he can't quite put words to, but he thinks it might be hunger, or at the least curiosity. He lets his hands follow Shouto's to his front, skating his fingers over the opened closure of his pants and biting his lips.

"Shou," he breathes, and shifts enough to climb his way out of his shorts, letting them bunch at his thighs.

The feeling of Izuku's eyes on him, watching as he undoes his pants, makes something flutter in the pit of his stomach. It's not nervousness, exactly--he's never been nervous around Izuku--but...anticipation, maybe. A rush of warmth, a feeling that makes his heart race, his breath catching as he feels the brush of fingers against fabric. Izuku is biting his lips, and Shouto thinks dreamily that he knows how they feel, now. He knows how they taste. And he wants more.

Izuku shifts enough to let Shouto get his shorts down to his thighs, and Shouto takes over from there, shifting up for a moment so he can pull them off the rest of the way, discarding them to the side of the bed. Hopefully Izuku will forgive his carelessness; he'd rather just focus on the boy underneath. One hand slides from Izuku's calf up over his thigh, eyes drawn down to skin he's seen before but never really looked at (tactfully not commenting on the All Might boxers, the last thing he needs to do is remind Izuku he's wearing his hero in a moment like this), as he leans back over the other boy, lips finding his jaw, the side of his neck, the shell of his ear.

"I-zu-ku," he murmurs, voice a gentle singsong as he takes the other's hands, guiding them to the waistband of his pants. They had agreed on both of them, after all.

The boxers under his shorts are almost comically well-worn-- he's probably worn them every day he can get away with, to the point of doing laundry more than necessary or washing them in the sink. When you idolize someone more than your own life, it's a powerful thing, up to and including getting randy in boxers with your idol's face on them. It's probably good Shouto doesn't comment, though, solely for the notion that Izuku would struggle with realizing that his erection was currently distorting All Might's nose comically.

Ultimately it's the kisses along his jaw and specifically the shell of his ear that pull sounds from him, wanton wordless little things, and he shifts his hips forward while holding Shouto's still with their new placement, grinding a moment. He's shaking, but it's a good feeling, and he rocks there for a moment, slowly easing the fabric down his hips each time he pulls away enough.

"It makes sense, but this... this kind of thing is never this intense alone," he breathes, more of just thinking out loud than anything else. "Embarrassingly, I've probably never been this hard in my life." He laughs, with that one, a high and almost startled sound, because he is embarrassed, but he can't seem to curb his chattering.

It's not as though Izuku's shorts were super thick to begin with, but it's still an entirely different feeling as he grinds against Shouto in just his boxers. Maybe it's the knowledge that there's one less layer of fabric between them, or the strength in Izuku's grip as he holds Shouto's hips steady, slowly working down his pants until there's one less layer between them, yet again. Maybe it's those little sounds that escape Izuku as Shouto's lips wander over his neck and ear, and boldly he lets his tongue trace the outer edge of his earlobe, teeth grazing faintly, curiosity and more than a little arousal goading him onward. And then, there's that feeling--just the two of them against one another, only two thin layers of cotton between them, just Izuku's boxers and his own dark briefs, and Shouto all but whimpers into Izuku's ear as he wriggles further from his pants, kicking them off impatiently before grinding forward again.

"Not--that embarrassing," he manages, breathless and low. "I feel the same way--this is so much better than doing it alone--" They can definitely do this again sometime, right? They should. They should, definitely, definitely do this again. "It feels really good, Izuku," he breathes, and buries his face in Izuku's neck as he tangles their legs together again, soaking in the feeling of all that skin against his own.

"No, it's definitely totally embarrassing," he laughs quietly, the sound somewhat frenzied. "...at least for me, but you seem a lot calmer about pretty much everythi--hing, oh my God." He's pretty sure his eyes make a solid bid to roll back in his head at the way Shouto tangles their legs together with just their underthings between them, his breath hitching on what he's sure would have been a terribly lewd sound if he can't choked it off before it got anywhere.

"More embarrassing food for thought-- if you keep that up I am absolutely going to get off without us getting anything else off our bodies and I'm not sure how into sticky you are." He's rambling, absolutely, but in a startlingly level tone despite it being husky and panicked at the same time.

Oh no, can't have that. Not the stickiness--that seems kind of inevitable at this point, and honestly any kind of cleanup is the last thing on Shouto's mind right now--but the way Izuku bites back that sound is definitely not what Shouto wants. Hadn't Izuku said he wanted to hear him? Wasn't it only fair if that worked both ways? "M'not--that much calmer," he manages, his breath catching as he shivers, resisting the urge to roll his hips again, at least for the moment. "Just...not embarrassed. Not about this. Not with you."

Taking a moment to breathe, he considers Izuku's words, a hand sliding over the other boy's hip, lips moving over the side of his neck again, teeth grazing lightly. "I don't want to stop. Do you want to take more off?" Not like he'd say no. Especially considering he didn't exactly bring extra underwear with him. He wasn't expecting to end this day mostly naked in his best friend's room getting off together--although it's not a bad end to a day, all things considered.

"Maybe I'm just easier to embarrass, then," he wheezes, squirming and letting his breath come and go in stuttered sounds, caught between clinging to and trying to keep himself an arm's length from Shouto. "I absolutely don't want to stop," he says, his tone clearer but still muddled, almost like he's having a hard time forming coherent thought (go figure). "I just don't want to put you in a position to have to fit into my clothes to get back to your room," Which has nothing to do with the fact that the thought of Shouto in his clothes pulls a soft keening sound from the back of his throat.

His fingers curl against Shouto's ribs, and he makes a decision, frowning and slowing his breathing enough to not be audibly hitched all the time.

"Shouto," he says, keeping his voice soft. "I-- 'm gonna be real honest, I really want to do this, I want... mmn." He loses his nerve partway through, gnaws his lip, and focuses on his collarbone. If he isn't looking at his face, he has a little more confidence. "I wanna watch you come undone at my hand, because I want to give you something nobody else has."

"Maybe. It's cute." The words slip out before he can reconsider. Cute? He's not the kind of person who says things like that, is he? But honestly, it's true. Izuku is cute. He's other things, too, but this--the way he squirms and blushes and makes those little sounds, the way he goes off into mumbling monologues--this is cute. So is the way Izuku doesn't want to stop regardless, the way he seems to steel his resolve despite the furious red in his cheeks.

That sound he makes in the back of his throat, though--that's less cute, and more...well, incredibly hot. And so is the thought of wearing a pair of Izuku's boxers on the way back to his room, the idea that he's wearing them and no one else would know--

The thought is distracting enough that he doesn't pay attention to the first part of Izuku's words, too busy trying to keep himself from rolling his hips forward against the other boy's, to pushing them both towards a premature ending. It isn't until Izuku looks down, biting his lip, that Shouto manages to force his attention back to the other's words. And god, is he glad he did. I wanna watch you come undone...I want to give you something nobody else has. The breath leaves his lungs in a rush as an embarrassingly wanton whimper, a sound he does his best to bite back as the rest of the blood in his body seems to rush southward, leaving him shuddering under Izuku's touch.

He doesn't entirely trust his voice to come out as anything resembling actual speech, but he can probably manage at least one or two words. A hand cups the side of Izuku's face, thumb gently nudging his face upward, coaxing him into looking at Shouto again. He's not sure what exactly his expression must look like; he knows he's flushed, pupils dilated, lips parted as he licks them, as he breathes one word, then another.

"Please...Izuku--"

He's pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second or two at Shouto calling him cute in such a passing fashion-- he did most things as though they were secondary thoughts, even when Izuku was well aware they were intentional, and it startled his heartbeat into a stuttered pause that had him sucking in a startled gasp.

It's the whimper, he thinks, that pushes him to act, and the breathless way he says please, even if that comes as he's already rolled himself, legs hooked around Shouto's knees, to perch on his hips. He doesn't stop there, grinding downward into him from the new position and letting his back arch, reaching behind him to steady himself against Shouto's thigh.

"Definitely... not gonna say no when you ask like that." His voice has gone all back to gravel, his eyes darkened with the sheer want of his body, and he keeps a slow, shallow movement of his hips going. "'m... probably just gonna keep going, now," his explanation is distracted, his eyes half-closed, but it's important to him that he tell Shouto his intentions, even as he's still deciding them.

Someday he'll learn to actually be more emotive. It's just taking him some time to get beyond the years and years of learned responses, the instinctive urge to keep everything internalized. Izuku's learned to read him pretty well despite all that, at least, and honestly at this juncture Shouto's probably showing much more than anyone would expect him to be capable of. Then again, this is definitely hot enough to melt some of that icy exterior, isn't it? Especially as Izuku rolls them both, pressing Shouto down into the mattress, and Shouto struggles to catch his breath with a gasp as Izuku deliberately grinds against him.

The angle is even better as he leans back; not just the way it feels, but honestly the way Izuku looks--the line of his muscled torso, the arch of his spine, the way his arms tense and curl as he braces himself against Shouto's thigh. That rhythm he's finding is good, too; it's not enough, not nearly enough, but that's kind of nice in its own way. If it were harder, faster, he's pretty sure he wouldn't last long--not that he's going to anyway, not with Izuku looking like that--and he doesn't want this to be over yet.

Every breath is a ragged whine as he fights to stay in control of himself, his hands finding their way up Izuku's thighs to his hips, holding him steady. It feels so good like this, and Izuku's expression is mirrored on Shouto's face, eyes half closed and lips parting as he rolls his own hips upward into the other boy, a moan escaping him as he does. "Good," he manages, in between breaths. "Don't stop--mmn--"

Lust is a funny thing, Izuku is learning, as is discovering an intense attraction to someone you've never considered more than a close friend up until mere hours ago, and it fuels heat in his veins and keeps his hips moving, slowly adding more strength to the downward thrusts of them to amplify the pressure between them. Shouto is right in thinking it's not enough, but Izuku shares his interest in maintaining where they are, at least for a moment.

"God, Shou--" It's something in the way Shouto just lets himself talk, unguarded and for his ears only, the way he shifts up into him so they meet halfway, so the friction is that much sharper, the time their bodies spend apart shorter. "Don't think I could even if I wanted to," he breathes, bracing his other hand against Shouto's other thigh, and shifting to slot their bodies together tighter still, angling himself so he's perched neatly between the heterochromic boy's thighs. It's still just shy of enough pressure and contact, and he knows it would still get them both off, but it could be better, and ever the problem-solver that he is, Izuku leans backward and extends one hand, moving it from Shouto's thigh. "Give... me your hands?"

It really is, isn't it? If you had told him even this morning just how this day was going to end, he would have looked at you like you were crazy and maybe asked you which classmate's fanfiction you'd been reading. And yet, here they were. Mostly naked, grinding against one another, well on their way to being much more than just close friends. Probably. They should...eventually talk about that, right? Later. Much later.

Right now, Shouto's not even thinking about any of that. He's not thinking much at all, in fact, lost to sensation and the incredibly hot sight of Izuku on top of him, the sound of the other boy all but moaning his name as he shifts, seeking a better angle. They could definitely both get off just like this, but honestly if Izuku's got ideas, Shouto is not going to say no. With a squeeze of his hands to Izuku's hips, he reaches up to take the other boy's without a question. Whatever he's got planned, Shouto's here for it, one hundred percent. "Here--what...?" Does he need to move? He can. All Izuku has to do is say the word.

Listen, they could talk about their friendship becoming more like skinship after they helped each other to the best orgasms of their teenage lives. That was the natural progression of things, right? Of course. Izuku grunts softly, grabbing Shouto's hand and pulling himself forward, then reaching for his other and supporting himself by his upper arms alone for a moment, squirming until he managed to turn partly sideways and kick one leg up and over Shouto's so he was slotted against him at more of an angle.

It meant for a lot more specific contact, and his breath caught in a gasp as he ground down into him from the new angle.

"God-- ffffffhh," he didn't quite swear, but almost. "Is-- is that okay...?" His tone was desperate, because he could practically feel himself careening to the edge of his sanity, but he needed Shouto's okay to keep at it.

Edited 2019-11-12 06:03 (UTC)

Oh, absolutely. Totally natural. Exactly how this works. Probably. And if it isn't, like hell is he gonna stop now. Because honestly? This feels really bizarrely natural, too, in its way. Muscles flex in Shouto's arms as he helps steady Izuku while he shifts, although they nearly give out entirely as the other boy finds his angle and Shouto nearly comes apart right then and there.

Izuku's words are echoed by a groan from Shouto's lips, his back arching slightly as he's briefly overcome with sensation. Okay?? Okay isn't even the half of it. Okay would imply that he's not about to come in his underwear right then and there. A frantic nod begins before Izuku even finishes the words, Shouto's eyes reflecting more than a little of that frantic need as he squeezes Izuku's fingers, lacing one set of hands together and reaching for words. "Don't stop," he manages, breathy and almost desperate with what he can feel building in him. "Don't stop, Izuku, please--"

He'll forgive him for not lasting very long at all, won't he?? Hopefully he will. Not much avoiding it, at this point.

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