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 more reflex than it is specifically defensive, at least. He's spent so much time constantly having to default to defensive action because he had no offense that he doesn't even think about it when it comes to moments of a more exposing nature. But he crawls out of it easily enough when he moves forward, and when he settles again his posture is only slightly more open-- he's not folded in on himself, though mostly because being as close to Shouto he can't, really. Instead, he lays his legs to the side so they're hip to hip, and keeps his hand in his hair. Shouto's fingers tracing against his skin definitely make him shiver, just slightly, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up while the rest of him breaks out in goosebumps, but he laughs anyway.

"Doesn't matter that we're both guys," he explains immediately. "I've never really cared about that, like... L--" He stops, clearing his throat and going red from his neck to his ears at realizing he almost just claimed Love is Love, and what a bomb that would be to drop. "Like who you like, your sexual and gender identity shouldn't really matter." Wow, okay, not a bad save, but now he's gonna be flustered the rest of this conversation. "I definitely like you a lot, I'm definitely attracted to you, um, I... guess that accounts for both romantic and sexual allure? Wow this is embarrassing."

He's not sure what exactly Izuku was about to say, or why he stumbles over his words, but he's too busy focusing on what he actually does say to question it--right now, at least. Maybe later he'll mull it over. Maybe later he'll think about other words that start that way, other things that could have been said, but for now, he's only going to focus on what's actually said. After all, he's still saying plenty, isn't he?

The press of hip to hip is nice, if a touch distracting, and Shouto's hand wanders up towards Izuku's shoulder as he listens, fingertips exploring his upper back, the shape of his shoulder blades. "I feel the same way. That is--" It's not exactly fair if he just says that, is it? If he just echoes him. Izuku should hear it. Shouto doesn't look away, eyes still strangely soft as he watches Izuku fumble his way through.

"I like you. A lot. As more than just friends. I think maybe I have for a while, even if I didn't know what exactly it was. And this--I really enjoyed what we just did. So, I guess..." He trails off briefly, biting at his lip as he searches for the correct way to say this, eventually opting for his usual blunt honesty.

"I want to do that again, but I think I'd like to do other things, too. Like--with our clothes still on." There's a hint of a smile on his lips, the smallest trace of uncertainty. "I've never been on a date before, but--I wouldn't mind trying it, with you. If you want to."

The color that creeps across nearly all of his upper half is stark against the constellation of freckles dotting his skin and the green of his hair, and for a moment Midoriya Izuku bluescreens entirely, his brain melting down his spinal cord and spilling into a puddle beneath them. His mouth falls open and he balks, and his eyes get hot but he reigns himself in-- he's done more than enough crying through this whole ordeal. It's instinctive, at this point, but he closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath, pulling away only enough to smudge his hand over his eyes.

"For someone who got into UA on recommendations, you sure have a startlingly blunt way of saying things," he laughs, curling inward but smiling up over his hand. His eyes are still glassy, for sure, but that's just something Shouto will have to get used to. This is a particularly soggy steamed vegetable. "But... I'd like that. To do more things with you. With and without clothes."

Fortunately, after all the crying Izuku has done this afternoon amongst all of their other activities, Shouto is at least semi-prepared for the way the other boy goes all wide-eyed and watery, grabbing at his face and rubbing at his eyes, and he doesn't turn away or panic, instead letting his hand slide down the center of Izuku's back to rest at his waist and giving him a moment to pull himself together. Not that he's tired of Izuku's tears, or annoyed by it, or anything like that. This is just the kind of person Izuku is, and he likes Izuku a lot, which means...well, he'll wait. He can be patient.

Izuku doesn't cry, though; he's a little watery, but he's laughing, smiling as he answers Shouto. "I'm not sure what being blunt has to do with it, but I don't know. It's hard enough doing this kind of thing without just...saying what you mean. Or what I mean. I like you a lot. You should know that. And I want to do more with you. So I'm asking." Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Is there some other way to go about it?? This is the only way he can figure that makes any sense at all. But...hey, it's still a yes. Leaning over, Shouto places a soft kiss against Izuku's jawline, letting his lips linger there for a long moment.

"But...I'm glad you feel the same way."

He tilts his head just enough to the side to let Shouto have access to more than just his jaw if he likes, closing his eyes and continuing to smile.

"You're a lot more straightforward than I am," he mumbles, squirming closer to him again and mirroring his gesture by looping one arm around his hips. He's still a little bashful about looking him over, now that they're naked, and his ears go a little darker red. "...but, I've got a really dumb embarrassing question for you, actually."

Of course he likes. How can he kiss him just once, even now? After all, this is nice, and he finds he really likes the scent of Izuku this close, lips wandering across his jaw down along the side of his neck. He pauses as Izuku says something about a question, though, looking up at him quizzically. Dumb embarrassing question? Like he'd ever laugh at anything Izuku might possibly have to ask.

"You can ask me anything. You know that."

He makes a quiet little sound that is definitely along the lines of Interested as Shouto's lips travel down his neck, to the point that he's a little zoned out when he pauses and draws away. He picks his head up, making a vaguely curious sound and then chuckling.

"I've always been curious, but..." He reaches out and runs one hand through Shouto's hair. "I don't... like looking at people when we're changing or whatever, it feels invasive. Is it just the hair here that's two-tone?" He can't look him in the eye when he asks it, pink dusting his cheeks again, but he's got this giddy little smile on his face as the words leave his lips.

That's a nice sound. A distracting sound, and Shouto could easily find himself doing his very best to coax free more of them, letting his lips continue to wander, maybe even letting them explore further along Izuku's body. He wants to kiss every single one of those freckles he sees, to find them all with lips and fingertips. He wants to feel Izuku, and to share the warmth he feels inside.

It's a warmth that bubbles up as the other boy runs a hand through Shouto's hair and then asks that question, and Shouto blinks in response, a quiet sound of surprise slipping out. But he's smiling nonetheless, that slow, intent look that seems to be devoted exclusively to Izuku these days. "Very polite of you," he murmurs, leaning into the fingers combing through hair still silky despite their recent activities. "But I don't mind if you look." After all, he's not shy. Especially not for Izuku. "It's not as evenly divided as the hair on my head, but..." Well, Izuku can see for himself: there's a faint trail of red very low on Shouto's torso that spreads, a swirl of white through it that interrupts the color here and there.

His continued wandering makes Izuku's breath catch-- there's a few specific spots in that trajectory that are especially sensitive, and even Izuku is just learning of them as Shouto finds them (where his jaw and ear meet, a scar that disappears over the back of his right shoulder about an inch from his neck, the inner curve of his clavicle), and he has to take a few breaths to steady himself and keep his thoughts above the belt. His face seems pretty solidly pink, now, with no sign of being less so, and it's equal parts embarrassment over his question and the contact from Shouto's lips.

He really, really wants to ask him to continue, but he has to focus on the answer for his question.

He lets Shouto's coaxing guide his gaze downward, and his face just gets pinker the lower he goes-- it's not even specifically that he's just about looking at his dick that's bringing a deeper flush to his face, it's just... All of him. Shouto has always been slim, but lithely muscular, and Izuku is true to his word that he doesn't like to look when people are changing or bathing. Japanese people didn't really have a concept of modesty in the same way as many other cultures, but he just didn't...

Oh.

His eyebrows raise.

"...huh," he breathes, tilting his head. "That's... actually really interesting to me, and that's probably weird."

Every time he finds one of those spots, Shouto makes a mental note. He wants to be able to find those, to focus in on them, to chase that blush and make Izuku lose the ability to do anything but offer those shivery little gasps and sounds. After all, why keep thoughts above the belt when they're talking about things below?

But he can pick back up on that in a moment. Izuku's looking, despite being the approximate color of a strawberry, and Shouto struggles just a little with keeping his own thoughts steady as he hears the thoughtfulness in the other boy's voice. "Is it? I mean, I think it's kind of nice you're so interested in me," he says after a moment, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Unless you think I'm weird." Which...maybe he wouldn't be wrong, but he's just teasing, really.

His expression scrunches, and he leans on one hand to move the other, laying it palm-flat on the space between Shouto's belly button and the denser area of hair there. He shakes his head, making a thoughtful sound.

"Not weird," he insists, briefly letting his eyes travel below the patch of hair and then looking away again, ears turning a much darker red for a moment. "...Mmmn, not weird at all. I'm just really interested in things I like, I wanna know all I can about them." He lets his little finger slide inconspicuously into Shouto's pubes, smiling slowly as he does. "Like... all. As much as I can." A pointed statement, perhaps.

Izuku's even adorable when he makes a face like that. Maybe more adorable, even. The way he relaxes by inches, no longer curling up and hiding, makes Shouto think of a plant slowly blooming. It's a thought full of affection, and he's smiling as he traces the line of Izuku's spine with his fingers.

Despite all the contact they've had, Shouto still can't quite help the way his breath catches as Izuku slides that palm across his lower stomach, and he leans back slightly to let the other boy have a little more room. Watching Izuku as he is, he definitely doesn't miss the way his eyes dip a little further then shoot away, and damned if that doesn't stir the very beginnings of a different kind of warmth. His eyes drift from Izuku's face down to the hand on his stomach as the other boy speaks, and as that pinky drifts deliberately down, Shouto finds his mouth going dry with anticipation.

"Well, in that case, I mean. I don't want to keep you from learning new things," he breathes, voice dropping into a slightly huskier range. "I really like how enthusiastic you are about it, honestly. Maybe we could learn something new together." Is this flirting? Is he flirting? Maybe.

The edges of his mouth pull wide for a moment and then his lips part from his teeth, nose scrunching up further as he laughs quietly.

"I'd like that," he breathes, twisting his wrist to run all four of his fingers through the dualtoned hair below Shouto's navel. "Learning together is a lot better than learning alone." Oh, this is definitely flirting. Really fucking nerdy flirting.

Shouto can't help the shiver that runs through him as those fingers search lower, combing through hair only a little coarser than that on his head. No one else has ever touched him like this, and to hear Izuku laugh and playfully answer, to know it's deliberate, and where their likely path is taking them--is it any surprise his body is already beginning to stir again? Izuku's a teenage boy, he'll understand. And maybe even feel the same way, if Shouto's got any hand in it. Which he will, very shortly, he thinks.

"Absolutely. Maybe we'll have to schedule some more study dates. It seems like it's a pretty complicated topic, might take a lot of research." The words are almost a breathy laugh as he arches slightly into the touch, leaning in towards Izuku and brushing his lips over that sensitive space where ear meets jaw once more. "I'm very dedicated, though. I'll work extra hard." You know what, it's fine. Nerdy flirting is a go.

He talks himself down from making an extra hard, huh? comment, humming instead and actually tilting his head to watch where his hand wanders. "Oh, definitely," he says with a not. "These sorts of things are impossible to find proper research on, you really have to do it yourself." He lets two fingers reach just past the end of the hair and stroke, almost absently, like he's curious about the feeling of the thinner skin over Shouto's nethers, and idly bites his lower lip.

"...I'll have to keep a closer eye on Aoyama and Mineta's schedules so we can time these study sessions," he adds, a thoughtful tone to his words.

How very considerate of him. Then, they're even, as Shouto refrains from saying something about not doing it himself being the whole point of this research. They're both nerds, but apparently even they have to draw the line somewhere--this time, at least. Honestly, it's hard to think at all, once those fingers continue wandering south.

Shouto's breath shudders from him with a sigh, a faintly voiced hum at the end of it as he lets his mouth continue exploring Izuku's neck and jawline. It's an encouraging sound, definitely, and Shouto shifts a little more--enough that he can let his own fingers reach across and slide over Izuku's thigh. He's not quite going for the gold yet, but, well. The touch should imply what he's planning on. "You could come up to my room, too," he murmurs, mouthing at that scar on Izuku's shoulder. "Sero and Satou won't mind. And Sero's usually down hanging out with Kaminari and the others when we have free time, so..." So is he asking Izuku to come to his room for a perfectly innocent study date during normal hours that will almost definitely not be an actual study date? Maybe.

"Sero-kun would suggest a sock on your door," he mused with a chuckle, leaning his head away to allow Shouto more access to his neck. His eyes slid closed at the existing attention and he made a soft sound, mostly a puff of breath, but let a smile tug at his mouth. "And it's not a bad idea, but I don't wanna be the one to explain to Iida-kun what that means."

Shouto's laugh is more of a soft huff of breath against Izuku's skin, his teeth grazing lightly, just enough pressure to feel. He likes that, he's finding; not enough to hurt, just enough to make Izuku's breath pause, his words distracted. "Is that what that means? Why a sock?" Seems a little silly...but then, honestly he's willing to try anything if it means more of this with Izuku.

His fingertips slide further, tracing a path up Izuku's inner thigh towards the join of his hip as his lips continue their own path, down along Izuku's collarbone, tongue flickering at the hollow of his throat to taste his skin. "Could convince him it means something else," he suggests, although it's half joking. "Like I've got a cold. Contagious, he shouldn't come in."

"I think the history of it is something l-- nnh," a startled sound bubbles up out of his throat at Shouto's teeth, his breath shaking as he exhales. "...um, the. When you... take off your clothes you leave your sock on the door to... Tell people, God, Shouto," he stays quiet, but his voice comes out a growl in his throat and his hand not exploring Shouto's happy trail reaches out and gripping his hip.

"You won't even get to do much studying, at this rate..." Listen, there is absolutely nothing wrong with them just giving each other rapidfire handjobs until they can't fucking see. A beat, and he frowns slightly. "And I'm not gonna lie to Iida about what a sock on the doorknob means, I don't think he's ever told a lie in his life and that makes lying to him like. A cardinal sin." Another face, and he's very clearly thinking too hard about this. "Plus you know he'd come in anyway, just armed with a surgical mask and Lysol."

Edited (i just keep adding to this one) 2019-11-19 09:29 (UTC)

It might be the first time they're doing anything like this, but Shouto can already tell that he's really going to enjoy doing that. Distracting Izuku, knowing he's the reason the other boy jumps and squeaks and gasps and loses his train of thought--there's a certain satisfaction in it, and it's more than a little bit of a turn-on. In fact, that part is definitely gonna be difficult for Izuku to miss. "I don't mind," he murmurs against Izuku's throat, bracing himself with one hand behind Izuku while his other explores the muscles of his stomach.

He does pull away for just a moment though, enough to look at Izuku's frown with the smallest rueful smile. "I know, I know. I wouldn't lie to him. I don't think I'd really do the sock thing. It seems kind of..." Public? After all, if everyone knows what it means... "I don't want anyone thinking about you like that," he finishes after a moment of thought, fingers wandering below Izuku's navel, perhaps seeking something similar to what Izuku's been doing with his hand. Anyway, it's true. People shouldn't be gossiping about what they want to do. Also, it's probably breaking like 6 school regulations. Although he wouldn't mind breaking some more, honestly.

He makes a sound not unlike a purr, shifting his hand lower with the notable interest from Shouto and gently curling his thumb and middle finger around him, curious. It's almost innocent, because part of him is just feeling and mapping out his skin, but given the location and the subtle grin on his face, it's obvious he knows exactly what he's doing. He licks his lips absently, shifting to press against Shouto's wandering hand.

And then he laughs, quiet and boyish, nose scrunched up and lips peeled away from his teeth. It's a happy sound, tinged slightly in nerves, but laughing helps to ease them so he lets his shoulders shake a little at the expense of Iida's potential horror over socks on doorknobs. "Think of me like what? Shoucchan, we just rubbed ourselves off in our underwear on my bed on a Sunday afternoon, nobody would be wrong for assumptions they make about me based on a sock on your door." His lips purse as Shouto's hand wanders lower, and his stomach tightens just slightly with nerves, but he doesn't protest, just chewing his lip shyly. "If I weren't already gonna have a hard time meeting his eyes for a week in class because I got off sitting on you on this bedspread, I'd even put one of my All Might socks on your door."

The feeling of those fingers encircling his arousal make Shouto's breath stop entirely, then slide from him in a shuddering sigh, a hint of a whine at the end. God. That's Izuku's hand on him, and that's Izuku smiling, arching into his touch, and that's Izuku laughing, a sound that just makes him want to do it again. Do all of this. He's such a combination of frank and shy, forthright and uncertain, and Shouto wants to learn what makes every part of him tick.

"I know we did, and I'm going to be thinking about that for weeks," he murmurs more than a little breathlessly, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Maybe I just don't want other people thinking about you naked." Maybe he's...already in a little deeper than he's maybe realized. After all, that offer Izuku makes gives him a warm, fuzzy feeling that's entirely ridiculous, his heart feeling all gooey and soft. Shouto's smiling despite his protests, and he doesn't let any amount of nerves on either end stop his fingers from continuing their journey, exploring what hair he finds and then lightly caressing the delicate skin below.

"But I'm honored you're willing to sacrifice one of your All Might socks for the cause, anyway."

There would be plenty of time to figure him out-- there's a lot, and he's capricious about certain things, but mostly he's a teenage boy arguably discovering how to love one of his best friends, so it's a lot but it's all positive. He chuckles quietly in his throat, and that whine at the end of Shouto's shuddering sigh bumps him up a rung or two on the stiffy ladder, as well. He's pretty pointedly not looking at either of their dicks, still caught in some bizarre form of modesty for them both, but he shifts his hand farther down Shouto's length slowly, testing the waters.

His ears turn a sudden scarlet when Shouto admits to not liking the thought of anyone else thinking about him naked, and his smile is almost entirely nerves, but it's still a smile, and he cranes his neck to press his face into the crook of the other teenager's neck.

"It'd be a dead giveaway it was me, but now that you mention it, I dunno that I want anybody thinking about me naked, either?" But he's fine with talking about getting off in their underwear.

He is a lot. Shouto's already figuring that much out, at least. He's a lot, and it's confusing, and a little terrifying, but it's also exhilarating and he can think of few other things worth the effort he's willing to put into it. One day at a time, one conversation at a time, one...well, mutual wank session at a time, too, okay. Izuku deserves the effort, the attention, and also the orgasms.

If it helps any, Shouto also isn't looking down, but that could be because he's pressing his lips to the shell of Izuku's ear, shuddering as the hand wrapped around him shifts, stroking lightly and pulling what distinctly sounds like a whimper from his throat. His own fingers continue mapping the shape of Izuku's cock, tracing lines like he's memorizing it by feel.

"Make an exception for me? Because I'm pretty sure not thinking about this is going to be impossible," he murmurs, breath hot against the other boy's skin. Honestly, he's not sure he's going to be able to stop thinking about it for a while.

With as stressful as both their lives are, they both deserve the orgasms. What with Izuku's penchant for internalizing things, both out of necessity and just habit, he frequently forgets how to administer self-care, up to and including things of a masturbatory nature. He's just busy a lot, okay? He has definitely thrown himself into a cold shower and pinned a textbook to the wall to keep studying while the water calmed down a raging boner. Being sixteen with a high sex drive and too many things to do to actively seek out a relationship was suffering, okay.

Through combination of Shouto's lips against his ear, the fingers ghosting along his steadily hardening erection, and the whimper from the hero's throat, Izuku makes a sound of his own that is much less soft and wanton than Shouto's, a husky groan accompanying a shift of his hips to encourage Shouto's hand. He goes still, for a moment then, taking a moment to just breathe even if his chest is heaving with every breath. He forgets to curb a second one at Shouto's question, his spine bowing outward to force more friciton from Shouto's hand and a smile curving his lips.

"Are you saying I'm in your spank bank now, Shoucchan?" His tone is playful, but his voice is thick with want, his hand taking a more measured approach at stroking Shouto. His mind was racing like his heartbeat, full of terrible thoughts of debauchery, wondering if Shouto would make those whimpering sounds more if he stroked him faster, if he preferred a tighter or loser grip, what part of him was most sensitive. He twists his wrist, loosening his hold almost entirely and just trailing his fingers up the underside of him, swiping a thumb idly over the head when he gets to it. His face is still firmly buried in Shouto's neck, but that also means Shouto can feel how his breath stutters frequently.

@microwaveable

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