numbertwohero | @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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Guess I'll have to try harder, then," he answers, the faint sound of laughter edging his voice as his hand continues its slow, steady stroking along Izuku's length. The words are almost casual, like he's completely unaware of what his hand is doing, and that's perhaps a little intentional, too. It's nice to discover this new thing along with all the others, that they can tease and joke even while working each other back to arousal and closer with every inch to yet another orgasm. It's strangely comfortable, even as it makes every nerve ending tingle. "Then again, I guess I could settle for two out of three. Otherwise I wouldn't manage to actually pass any classes, either. What about...mm...strip pop quizzes?" That's a thing, right? Or it can be a thing? Who says they can't use libido to incentivize learning, too?

"Two out of three is a lot, don't be greedy," is Izuku's mumbled reply, pressing his face further against his neck. "But now you're going to overtake our English studying with filth and debauchery and we'll both fail," he's teasing, his tone pointedly overdramatic. "What then, Shouuucchan? What then."

The dramatics earn him a laugh from Shouto, husky and warm as he leans in in turn, mouth pressing a series of kisses against Izuku's neck up towards his ear again. "Mm, pretty sure Yamada-sensei would give you a passing grade for learning a word like 'debauchery,'" he teases in turn. "It's good vocabulary. You'll save both our grades. And then I'll have to repay you." With more of this, obviously. What? It's a good plan. 10/10, approved.

He grumbles something to the effect of talking about teachers being entirely unsexy, shifting his hands to press Shouto's hips into the mattress and then shift his whole body to sit on him again, hair somehow even messier than its default state.

"You'd think I'd get off to talking about academics, with how much of a nerd everybody thinks I am," he offers loftily. "But I'm actually just kind of a physical person with this sort of thing. Not to say intelligence isn't hot, but." He leans down and kisses Shouto soundly, drawing away to lick his lips. "Less talking about school."

Izuku certainly won't get any complaints out of Shouto over the change in position, or the change in topics. In fact, he's having a hard time remembering what exactly he was talking about before, with the other boy looking like that, all disheveled and pink-cheeked.

"Pretty sure you started it," is his only protest, and even that is more faint and teasing than anything else as he leans into that kiss, hands sliding over Izuku's thighs and up his back. When he finally pulls back, lips parted as the other licks them, his eyes are hazy, and more than a little distracted. "Mm, no argument here. Less talking, more kissing." It sounds a little silly. He sounds a little silly, whimsical and slightly dazed. Not very much like himself at all. But who could blame him? He's got a gorgeous naked boy in his lap looking down at him like that, kissing him like he's the only source of oxygen, and currently what feels like a considerable amount of the blood in his body is somewhere south of his navel for the second time in as many hours. Reaching up, he plunges fingers in those green curls, pulling Izuku in for another kiss, shifting slightly to eliminate as much space from between them as he can.

"Yeah, well I'm ending it too, then," he laughs, bumping his nose into Shouto's and staying there a moment. "You'll just have to deal with two out of three." Shouto's hands snaking up his thighs and to his back cause an involuntary shudder to run through him, and he grits his teeth before draping back against him. Sure, they were being lewd and sexy, but that didn't mean they couldn't also cuddle a little. The hands in his hair earn Shouto a pleased little sound, and he shifts to take a bit more control of the kiss as it happens, biting his lower lip.

"I keep sitting on you," he mumbles when he draws away, worrying at his own lower lip. "Sit up with me? I have an idea," Which, given how he's raking his eyes down Shouto's body, that Idea probably has everything to do with the same heat below his navel he's sharing.

There's definitely no law against also cuddling while being lewd, and frankly if there is Shouto's more than happy to break it. He's still not even sure how any of this is possible. It certainly isn't something he thought could happen, and there's a part of him that still feels like it might be a dream. He's had dreams...well, not exactly like this, never this good, but dreams in the same category before.

But he can feel Izuku's weight on him, and he can smell the faint scent that's a combination of sweat and soap and Izuku, and he can feel those teeth catch in his lip, pulling a pleased purr of a sound from his throat at the sensation. This isn't a dream, or if it is it's the most real dream he's ever had.

"I don't mind you sitting on me," he answers when Izuku pulls back, eyes still half-lidded. It's not a protest, really, just an answer, as honest as he always is. It's nice, looking at Izuku on top of him. "But if you've got an idea..." He hasn't had a bad idea yet, so Shouto isn't going to protest now. Stomach muscles tensing (and only partially from exertion, more than a little because he can feel those eyes on his body as if they were hands), he sits and moves as Izuku's directing.

"Mm-hmm," he breathes, and the sound is throatier than he intends but it's happened, it's out there, there's nothing he can do about it. His freckles are more pronounced when his face gets hot, so there's that little tidbit of extra eye candy for Shouto's perusal.

When Shouto sits up, Izuku scoots backward just a touch, leading to him sitting between Shouto's legs with his thighs resting on the other's, folded up over him and his ankles nearly crossed behind his hips. Deciding this is no time to be shy, he finds one of Shouto's hands and brings it between them, scooting forward until he can encourage Shouto's hand to take hold of both of their teenage erections, kind of sandwiching them together. He doesn't make a sound about it, but his mouth opens with the added contact, and he bites his lip again, raising his eyes to Shouto's to ask for approval.

"...mm, it's... a little much, but." But it would probably get them both off fast enough that neither of them beats the other in wanking off with their own hand alone.

Better believe that he's going to enjoy that, too, thanks. He really is more than a little partial to Izuku's freckles, the way they cover not just his cheeks but also his shoulders, his thighs, and...well, he'll see about the rest later. Very later, other things to do right now as Izuku shifts around and takes his hand, lowering it to--

"Mmn--"

The sound is absolutely wanton, a bitten off whine as Izuku presses them both together, wrapping both his and Shouto's hands around their lengths. Yeah, it's a little much, but he's not complaining at all as he opens hazy eyes to meet the other boy's gaze, heated and intense. He should say something, before he loses the ability, right? Right.

"No, it's--it's good, it's fine, just--"

Just as he shifts his hips a little experimentally, stroking both of them together, maybe it is a little much, because there goes his ability to speak coherently at all. Whoops.

@microwaveable

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