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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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.

"Okay-- okay--" Izuku chants, his hips rocking of their own accord even before he's gotten Shouto's desperate pleas to continue. He's scant moments from losing it, himself, they both are, and he knows it, but-- He's determined to push Shouto over the edge first, to make sure he's taken care of. "Don't-- I won't stop, but o-only--" His expression contorts, and he makes a soft warbling moan of a sound that stops his thought briefly, eyes scrunched closed. The effort of containing your youthful libido sure was something, wasn't it? "--only if you don't hold back," he manages a moment later, tone clipped and voice gravel, and he shifts to release one of Shouto's hands and set the other at the back of his knee.

"Shouto," he breathes, shifting to rock more against his thigh for a moment. "I'm-- H-hold onto something," Something, meaning something other than him, probably.

Only if you don't hold back. Those words have an entirely new meaning in this context, don't they? He can hear the trembling desperation in Izuku's voice, the way he stumbles over words as his body moves seemingly without any direction from him, and Shouto shifts one leg to give himself a little more traction in turn, reaching behind him with his free hand to clutch at the pillow behind his head. Their rhythm is less rhythm and more urgency now, but he does his best to join Izuku, breath coming in ragged gasps and heaves as he rolls his hips up into that amazingly delicious contact, friction and heat adding and compounding to the coiling tightness building low in him, like a spring on the verge of release.

"Me too," he gasps, a reply almost bitten off in the wake of another breathless whine. "Me too, Izuku, I'm going to--god--"

Maybe it was a little inevitable that he not last very long at all this time, but it still feels like something of a surprise as the climax rolls over him with a full-throated moan, a shuddering rush that drives all conscious thought from his mind and leaves him seeing stars even as it soaks his underwear through, leaving him a shivering mess clutching Izuku's hand.

More than a little bit, that's for sure. That seemed to sum up their friendship pretty well, though, even bleeding into this sort of behavior-- building each other up, Izuku in particular making sure to push Shouto beyond boundaries neither of them were consciously aware of. The rising urgency in Shouto's tone just about sets Izuku's blood on fire, and that breathless whine of a sound sends a downright dangerous spike of heat into the tightening coil behind his belly button.

"Go on," he urges quietly, his tone almost a growl, and then all at once the sticky dampness between them pulls his spine taut and his vision whites out as he follows Shouto over. He makes nearly no sound, just tightening his grip on both his hand and the fold of his knee, a choked gasp the only auditory confirmation of his addition to the mess.

Even in the midst of his haze, he can feel the way Izuku jerks, that hot dampness spreading even further between them, and it's enough to make him shudder even more, muscles tightening and releasing as he gasps for breath, riding the crest of that wave. God. It's never been that intense before. Not once, no matter how he did it, no matter what he was thinking of, and he bites back another whine as it occurs to him that this is all he's going to be thinking about from now on any time he gets the urge to stick his hand down his shorts and relieve some tension. The feeling of Izuku on top of him, that low, commanding tone of voice urging him onward--if he hadn't just gotten off, he'd be ready to go again. Would it be rude to ask if Izuku wants to do it again?

The thoughts running through his head are delirious, half-formed things. Only one manages to fully emerge and become action: lifting his hand from his pillow, Shouto props himself up on his elbows and reaches up, tugging Izuku down into a breathless kiss. 'Thanks for the orgasm' seems a little rude, but...well, here they are anyway. Maybe Izuku will appreciate his meaning regardless.

Izuku does, in fact, appreciate the meaning. He's malleable as Shouto pulls him down, and hums in a pleased, lazy way as he returns the kiss, uncoordinated as it is. After scant seconds he's giggling, the sound something like a windchime, and draws away because kissing while smiling is actually kind of hard. Instead, he ducks his head under Shouto's jawline and just leans there, bathing in the afterglow.

"That... at risk of sounding like bad erotica, was awesome." Did he just admit to reading erotica?

He likes the sound of that him, just like he likes the feeling of Izuku's lips on his, the way that giggle vibrates against his chest, making him feel entirely warm and content. He did that. They did that, together.

He's smiling, too, as Izuku pulls away, and wraps an arm around the other boy's shoulders as he lays back down, pulling Izuku in to his side. Eventually they're gonna have to clean up, it's gonna get cold and sticky and gross, but...just for a minute, he wants to bask in this glow. "Mm, yeah," he answers, and there's that same lazy warmth in Shouto's voice as his fingers draw patterns on Izuku's bare shoulder. "Very awesome. We should do it again." Did he say that out loud? He did. He did, and he doesn't regret it in the slightest. Leaning his head against Izuku's, Shouto glances sideways at him briefly, wondering despite himself. "I mean--if you want to." Maybe he wouldn't?? Crazier things have happened.

Izuku barks a sudden laugh at that, breaking out of Shouto's loose grip around his shoulders to sit up with a feisty grin.

"Ohh? You liked it that much? Who in their right mind would turn down another round with UA's Class 1-A most eligible bachelor, Todoroki Shouto? Not this pleb, I can tell you that," he crows softly, riding high on the winds of their cooling stickiness.

On that note, though, sitting up produces a sort of unpleasant squish of a feeling and his expression pinches, making him look down.

"...but, uh. This time let's get our boxers off before we come, yeah?"

He loves that laugh, and that grin, and the way Izuku looks so animated, teasing him without a single trace of a stutter or hesitation. Maybe that's why it's so easy for him to relax, too, actually making a face when Izuku calls him '1-A's most eligible bachelor', wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyebrows. Would you look at that, Todoroki Shouto is actually capable of expressions. "I mean, you could say no," he starts, nudging Izuku gently with an elbow, a small, startlingly sly smile slowly breaking through that look. "But I really think you'll enjoy saying yes more."

Although--yeah, that is kind of a gross feeling, isn't it? With a sigh, Shouto stretches fully, much like a cat, and as he uncurls he reaches down, sliding from his underwear without any shyness or hesitation, using the fabric to begin at least the very basics of cleanup. Not like they can get more ruined, after all. "Mm, that's definitely a better idea. I'm already going to have to borrow a pair from you before I go back to my room...Do you have a towel or something?"

"Did you-- did you just make a sour grape face at me?" That expression is hardly lost on Izuku-takes-notes-in-his-sleep-Midoriya, and he leans down real close to Shouto's face, grinning so hard his eyes crease at the corners. "You need to make faces more often, jeez, your constant deadpan is misleading." He's giggling again, still higher than he knows what to do with from the rush of-- well, everything, right now. He's high on how much he cares about Shouto, he's high on endorphins and everything else that comes with a stunning orgasm, and he's especially high on that sly smile as it forms on his face.

He bites his lip, grinning crookedly and looking quite terribly coy. "You know me better than that, I think," he says, and he would absolutely have gotten hard again right there had he not literally soiled himself with ejaculate moments prior. He gives Shouto a bit of perhaps unwanted modesty as he scoots out of his boxers, keeping his attention on his face and nodding, stretching out and away and hooking one thumb on his own boxers as he goes. He's a little shier about it, scooting backward and out of them but keeping them bunched up over his spent goods as he moves back toward Shouto (still pointedly not taking inventory) with a box of tissues. "Not a towel, but I've got some tissues for the minute. There's towels in the bathroom, if you want."

He folds inward just enough to look bashful, shoulders bunched up around his ears and posture generally guarded, but an easy enough smile on his face. He's not uncomfortable, not by any means, but he's maybe a little anxious about being fully nude with one of his closest friends whom he happens to have just had a wild mutual wanking session with. Not exactly how he would have expected to spend his Sunday.

"No idea what you're talking about. What face? I didn't make a face." Not very convincing when he's still smiling, is it? But that's fine, too. The thrum of endorphins is still coursing through his veins, and Shouto's enjoying the feeling. Maybe it's not such a terrible idea to relax and just let go once in a while. Maybe it's easier to consider with Izuku.

Speaking of--Izuku doesn't look as Shouto slides his underwear off, and he seems to make a point of covering himself, so Shouto follows suit, not about to make him more uncomfortable. However, he's also not going to let Izuku pull too far back at this juncture in time or get too lost in his head again. Not after what they've just shared. No regrets about it, right?

"Tissues are fine for now," he answers, taking the box from Izuku and setting aside his soiled shorts. It only takes a moment and a few tissues to finish cleaning himself up enough to be comfortable, and as soon as that's done, he's turning back to Izuku, pushing his hair back out of his face as he sits up, not shy in the slightest about his state of undress.

"You okay?"

"You so did," he says lightly, taking note of the pretty immediate shift in posture from him. He smiles, a fond little gooey expression of a thing, hugging his knees toward his chest to expel a bit of nervous energy. He keeps his eyes on them as Shouto cleans himself up, tangling his ankles up and piling his feet on top of one another. He still doesn't look specifically uncomfortable, maybe just a little nervous, but the entire time that same smile stays glued to his features.

As Shouto sits up he lifts his head and the smile fades, though not for any specific loss of happiness-- he's just... stunned. His expression goes mostly slack, watching him sit up and push his hair back like that, watching how comfortable and mellow he looks, and realizing that somewhere along the line he'd leapt directly over caring about him as a friend, and barreled pretty headlong into falling the fuck in love with him. His breath catches and he nods, chirping a quiet "Yeah," under his breath and sitting forward on his knees to reach out.

He doesn't hesitate like he might normally, reaching right to him and threading one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, scritching blunted fingernails there gently and letting another soft smile melt his features.

"...yeah, I'm great." And also gay. "Um, I-- before... Before we do anything else, maybe... I feel like we should... figure some stuff out." Oh, so it looked like maybe he wanted to determine boundaries and what they were before they had another wank session.

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uses this icon because it's mostly fitting this time

I need more porny icons tbh

i'm slowly working on more i got u fam

Ur the best boo

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