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“Kirishima, you need to shut the fuck up.”
Bakugou’s voice was low, breathless, and completely drowned out by Kirishima’s moan.
“Dammit,” hissed Bakugou. His face was warm, just like the cock in his palm. He pressed his free hand over Kirishima’s mouth, muffling the needy sounds spilling between his lips. “If you bite me I’ll fucking kill you.”
Kirishima mumbled something against his hand, just as Bakugou twisted his wrist and dragged another moan out of him.
Bakugou rested his forehead on Kirishima’s shoulder and took a deep breath. Kirishima hadn’t even touched him yet and he was painfully hard, just from the sight and sounds and sensations beneath his fingertips.
“Fuck,” said Bakugou, the profanity lacking heat. “If someone walks in and hears you, we’re fucked.”
Kirishima bucked into his hand with a groan.
“Shit. Of course that turns you on,” said Bakugou, swiping a thumb across the head of Kirishima’s cock before stroking again. “Kinky bastard.”
Kirishima huffed a laugh against Bakugou’s hand, but quickly melted into a moan again.
They were in the bathroom at end of the classroom corridor, locked up together in the last stall. There shouldn’t have been room for two people, but with Kirishima’s back against the wall and Bakugou pressed up against him, there was just enough space for a quick hand job.
Bakugou would know. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this.
He released Kirishima’s cock, spat in his hand, and started pumping him again, this time more quickly. The longer they stayed, the more likely they were to be found out. Even if that was a kink of Kirishima’s, Bakugou had no desire to be caught with his pants down. Well, with Kirishima’s pants down, technically. They were bunched around his knees, the cuffs dragging the floor.
Kirishima grabbed Bakugou’s wrist and pried the hand away from his mouth. He licked his lips and said, breathily, “Come here. Kiss me.”
That made Bakugou even harder. He planted his hand against the wall and leaned in, his mouth sliding against Kirishima’s. Sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip and Bakugou’s cock throbbed.
“What’s wrong?” mumbled Kirishima. He pressed his thigh harder against Bakugou. “You like when I bite you? Maybe you’re the one who’s kinky, Katsuki.”
Bakugou bit down on the moan building in his throat and Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou knew how to get the best of Kirishima, but Kirishima knew how to make Bakugou weak, too. Saying his name like that, like he was purring instead of speaking, was at the top of the list.
“Fuck,” said Bakugou. He dipped his hand down and lightly squeezed Kirishima’s balls, making him jolt. “If there was enough room in here to get on my knees, I’d make you fucking regret that.”
“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t regret a thing, Katsuki.”
Bakugou intended to snap back at him, but the sound of slightly squeaky hinges drew him short. He went perfectly still, and Kirishima did the same.
Light footsteps crossed the floor, coming to a stop at the far side of the room, where the urinals were in a neat row.
Bakugou held his breath, hoping the person didn’t look too hard at the bathroom stalls. It would be all too easy to notice two pair of feet beneath the door.
He looked at Kirishima, who hadn’t moved an inch since the intruder had stepped into the room. He was staring at Bakugou with wide eyes, his pupils blown wide. He bit his lip, sharp teeth against plump flesh, and gently bucked into Bakugou’s hand. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his breath coming short.
He really was turned on by the possibility of getting caught.
Bakugou rutted against Kirishima’s thigh, the look on his face wiping away all of Bakugou’s good judgement. He licked a stripe from the base of his palm to the end of his middle finger, watching Kirishima all the while, and reached down to stroke him again.
Kirishima shivered, his eyes fluttering closed. His mouth opened slightly, and Bakugou flattened his free hand over it, just in case. He leaned in and whispered, “Think you can come without making any sounds?”
Kirishima nodded, almost desperate.
“Do it, then,” said Bakugou, twisting his wrist as he pumped. One of the urinals flushed, concealing the wet sound of his strokes as he sped up the pace. “Come for me.”
Kirishima went rigid. He clawed at the front of Bakugou’s jacket, finding a desperate grip, as his cock pulsed in Bakugou’s hand.
Bakugou stepped to the side just quickly enough to avoid the stripes that Kirishima painted across the wall of the bathroom stall, warm remnants dripping between Bakugou’s fingers. A low moan bled from Kirishima’s lips, and the sound that Bakugou couldn’t muffle was swallowed by the sound of the sink as their uninvited guest washed his hands.
Bakugou stroked a few more times, until Kirishima shuddered. When he let go, he peeled his hand away from Kirishima’s mouth.
There was the sound of squeaking hinges again as their company left. As soon as the door swung shut, Kirishima slammed Bakugou against the wall and kissed him, hard enough to sting.
“Fuck,” said Kirishima, breathing the profanity against Bakugou’s lips. He had rarely cursed when they’d first met. Over the past couple of years Bakugou’s bad habit had worn off on him. “That was hot. That was really hot.”
“You’re suck a fucking freak,” said Bakugou, kissing him back. His cock was straining in his pants, demanding attention. “Shut up and touch me.”
Kirishima’s hand dipped down, rubbing against him in a way that made Bakugou’s back arch away from the wall. He leaned in and whispered, the words warm in Bakugou’s ear, “We only had a ten minute break. We don’t have time.”
Before Bakugou could process that, Kirishima had already yanked up his pants and tucked himself back into them. As he straightened out his shirt he considered the come sprayed across the wall, but apparently decided to leave it. He unlocked the door and stepped out, buttoning his jacket as he approached the sinks.
Bakugou stared at him, his cock hot and his brain spinning.
“What the fuck?”
Kirishima flicked a glance at him in the mirror. The bastard was grinning.
“Sorry, man,” said Kirishima, pumping out a handful of soap. “You’re the one who said we can’t miss any more classes, remember? I’m just trying to be a responsible student here.”
“What the fuck?” Bakugou repeated, as Kirishima yanked down a towel to dry his hands. “You just let me jerk you off in a bathroom stall. How’s that responsible?”
“You should lower your voice,” said Kirishima coyly. “Someone might hear.”
“Someone might… what the fuck?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Kirishima. He tossed the paper towel into the trash can and strode close, leaning in so far that his breath dusted Bakugou’s lips. “I’ll make it up to you later. I’ll make it worth the wait.” He palmed Bakugou through his pants, earning a frustrated groan. He flicked his tongue across Bakugou’s bottom lip and backed away with a grin. “See ya in class, Bakugou!” He offered a wave and ducked out into the hallway, the door squeaking shut behind him.
Bakugou stared after him, his pulse racing in his ears and in his cock.
He was going to murder Kirishima Eijirou.
That afternoon’s class was the longest of Bakugou’s life.
It was only two hours, but it felt like an entire dragging day. Kirishima was at the desk directly in front of him, and he kept running his fingers through the back of his hair, or tugging at his earlobe, or twirling his pencil between those long fingers. About halfway through class he stretched his arms overhead, his back arching, and settled back into place with a low, content sigh. He glanced at Bakugou over his shoulder, gave him a wink, and turned back around to listen to the lecture.
Bakugou gripped his pencil so tightly that it started smoking.
He wasn’t going to last until the end of class.
When they were finally, finally, dismissed for the day, Bakugou stuffed his notebook into his bag, intending to head straight to the dorms.
Kirishima had other ideas.
“Hey, Denki!” he said brightly, perching on the edge of Kaminari’s desk as he packed away his stuff. Kaminari had given the appearance of taking notes, but Bakugou knew he’d just been doodling for the last forty-five minutes of class. “Do you want to grab dinner after this? My treat. I owe you from last week.”
“Hell yeah! I’m starving, dude.”
Bakugou’s hand tightened into a fist around the strap of his bag.
Kirishima looked up, as if just realizing he was there. “Oh, Bakugou, you should come with us! Are you hungry?” The gleam in his eye suggested he knew exactly what Bakugou was hungry for.
Bakugou wanted to pin him against that desk and fuck him senseless. Instead he grunted and said, “Yeah, whatever.”
It was the most torturous meal Bakugou had ever eaten in his life. He barely touched his food. He was too busy watching Kirishima eat with unnecessary licks to the end of his spoon. The worst part was that Kirishima acted as if he was doing nothing out of the ordinary. He kept up a constant stream of conversation with Kaminari, discussing everything from their classes to their weekend training to the weather. Bakugou sat in sullen silence, waiting for them to finish so he could escape this special level of hell.
When they finally left, Bakugou had to discreetly adjust his pants before he stood up. He tried to be subtle about it, but of course Kirishima noticed. He gave Bakugou a sly smile before following Kaminari out of the restaurant.
That asshole was going to die.
After a leisurely stroll back to campus - and a completely unnecessary stop for ice cream - they finally made it back to the dorms by seven. Bakugou gritted his teeth to keep from screaming as Kaminari boarded the elevator alongside them, still chattering away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
They ascended to the second floor, and then to the third, and the elevator had never moved more slowly. Kaminari gave them a final farewell, standing in the threshold of the elevator so the doors wouldn’t close, and Bakugou wanted to physically kick him into the hallway. He controlled the urge, and the instant the doors slid shut, he shoved Kirishima against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snarled, fisting a hand in the front of Kirishima’s shirt.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Kirishima sweetly. “You’re the one who seems to have a problem. Is there something I can help you with?”
Bakugou had the urge to slam his head against the wall. Instead he tightened his grip and yanked Kirishima into a bruising kiss. It was sharp enough to draw blood from pinpoint pricks along the edge of Bakugou’s lip. Kirishima licked it away, and when his tongue slipped into Bakugou’s mouth, he tasted copper.
Bakugou grinded against Kirishima, his cock hard and desperate. Kirishima squeezed his ass and pulled him closer, just as the elevator doors dinged open.
They broke away quickly, but there was no one waiting in the hallway beyond. Bakugou seized Kirishima’s sleeve and tugged him along as he stalked to his dorm at the end of the hall, his hard-on affecting his gait. Kirishima hummed to himself as he walked, and it was infuriating.
At the end of the hall, Bakugou shoved his door open and was halfway inside the room when Kirishima said, “Well, that was fun and all, but I think I’m gonna turn in early. It’s been a long day.”
Bakugou went stiff. He looked over his shoulder, slowly, to find Kirishima grinning at him. “Are you fucking serious?”
Kirishima laughed. It was light and airy, like windchimes. “No, of course not.” He stepped past Bakugou and kicked his shoes off by the door.
Bakugou watched him, his emotions a whirlwind blur of desire and frustration.
Since he’d started U.A., he’d mostly gotten himself under control. He didn’t lose his temper as often, he kept his composure when faced with tense situations, and he’d learned how to focus on his surroundings rather than allowing his anger to consume him.
He was steady, for the most part, except when it came to Kirishima.
Kirishima was the only one who could unbalance him, the only who made him feel like he was going to combust.
And not always in a bad way.
Bakugou gripped the front of Kirishima’s jacket and pushed him toward the middle of the room, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He gave him a hard shove and Kirishima plopped down with a grin. Despite the cutting scowl on Bakugou’s face, Kirishima still smiled up at him, undaunted.
Everyone else had been afraid of Bakugou at one time or another, with good reason.
Kirishima had never feared him, not even at his worst.
“Why the fuck,” said Bakugou, the words rough, “have you been torturing me all day?”
Kirishima blinked up at him innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Bakugou shoved Kirishima onto his back with a growl, climbing on top of him and pinning him down with a knee on either side of his hips. He pressed Kirishima’s arms into the mattress, his grip tight around his wrists. “Shut the fuck up. You know what you’ve been doing to me.”
Kirishima raised a brow. He lowered his gaze slowly, lingering on the bulge in Bakugou’s pants. “Oh, you mean that.”
“What the fuck else would I mean?”
Kirishima grinned, flashing double rows of sharp teeth. He raised his hips and rubbed himself against Bakugou, who bit down on a groan. “C’mon, Katsuki,” said Kirishima. His grin widened, became predatory. “I wasn’t torturing you. I just wanted to rile you up a little, y’know? I thought it’d make you fuck me real good.”
Heat trickled down the back of Bakugou’s neck, down his spine, and pooled in his gut. “What?”
“You heard me,” said Kirishima. He rutted up against Bakugou again. “Don’t you want to? Feels like you do.”
Bakugou stared down at him, his fingers still looped tightly around Kirishima’s wrists. His entire body was hot, like he was trying to pin down the sun rather than Kirishima. His palms were sweating, and he knew that just a single spark would set off an explosion.
He pried his hands away from Kirishima and shrugged off his jacket. “I hate you,” he spat as he worked at the buttons of his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”
“No,” said Kirishima. He tugged at the button of Bakugou’s pants, and the zipper followed. “You don’t.”
There was a momentary struggle of long limbs and starched school uniforms, but finally Kirishima’s underwear hit the floor and Bakugou grinded against him properly, gasping at the heat against his neglected cock.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, as Kirishima threaded his hands through Bakugou’s hair and pulled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Kirishima rutted up against him. “Hand me the lube,” he said, his voice mostly a gasp. “I’ll start prepping.”
“Fuck you,” said Bakugou. “I’ll do it myself.” He rolled his hips against Kirishima one last time before crawling off of him and snatching the lube out of the top drawer of his end table.
He could have gotten off easily just by grinding against Kirishima, but that wasn’t good enough, not after he’d been tormented all day. Bakugou was going to fuck him, just like Kirishima wanted.
And this time he wouldn’t make Kirishima keep quiet.
He planted himself between Kirishima’s legs and gripped his knees, spreading them further apart. Kirishima complied willingly, the muscles of his thighs flexing as he shifted. His entire body was toned muscle, from his calves to his abs to his chest. He was all hard edges except for his eyes, which had always been soft when looking at Bakugou.
Bakugou slicked up his fingers and Kirishima watched him closely, eagerly. When Bakugou dipped a hand between his legs and pressed against him, rubbing lightly around his rim, the first whisper of a moan left Kirishima’s lips.
“Fuck,” said Bakugou. He leaned half-over Kirishima, bracing his free hand against the bed to keep himself upright. He stared down at him, intent, as he eased his finger in, slowly but firmly. It went easily, plunging into tight heat, and Bakugou’s cock throbbed as he thought about fucking into that.
Bakugou groaned and lowered his head, dragging his teeth along Kirishima’s collarbone and making him shiver. He bit down, lightly, and Kirishima’s back arched off of the bed with a gasp.
“Stop enjoying yourself so much,” grumbled Bakugou, sliding his finger out and in a few times before slipping in another alongside it. “You don’t deserve it, with the way you treated me all day.”
“That’s not true,” said Kirishima, rocking himself down on Bakugou’s fingers. “You liked it and you know it.”
“I did not.”
“Don’t lie to me,” said Kirishima with a grin. He curled a hand around the back of Bakugou’s neck and pulled him down. “You like when I tease you, Katsuki.”
Kirishima kissed him, sharp and sweet and filthy. Bakugou almost forgot what he was doing, but pushed through the haze of lust long enough to sink his fingers deeper.
Kirishima moaned, and Bakugou dipped his tongue into Kirishima’s open mouth. He whined when another finger pressed into him, stretching him further, but pushed down against Bakugou’s hand as he pumped into him.
“That’s good,” said Kirishima, breathless. “I’m ready.”
“I could just fucking leave you like this,” snapped Bakugou, wiping his fingers on the bedsheets. “The same way you left me in the bathroom.”
“You could,” agreed Kirishima, “but you won’t. You want it as bad as I do.”
He wasn’t wrong, and Bakugou growled as he seized Kirishima by the shoulders and flipped their positions, rolling Kirishima on top of him.
Kirishima blinked, confused, as Bakugou folded his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow, watching Kirishima with a raised brow.
“Don’t look at me like that,” said Bakugou. “If you want me to fuck you, then you’ll fucking earn it.”
Kirishima’s stare lingered on him, then dipped down to his solid cock. A grin touched his face, teeth flashing between parted lips. “Alright, Katsuki,” he said, smug. “Whatever you say.” He shuffled up on his knees, kneeling just over Bakugou’s hips. He gripped Bakugou’s cock in long fingers and drizzled it in lube, stroking a few times before slowly sinking onto it.
Kirishima had felt dizzyingly good on Bakugou’s fingers, but the squeezing heat of him on Bakugou’s dick was divine. Bakugou clenched his jaw and took a steadying breath as Kirishima sat on his cock, taking him all the way to the base with a low moan that Bakugou felt in his core.
The feeling was unmatched, and the view was fantastic.
Kirishima swiveled his hips, taking a moment to adjust. His head was tilted back, long, pale neck on display. He was hard, his cock curving up proudly.
Bakugou could look at him all day.
Kirishima started moving slowly at first, little dips and rolls of his hips that left Bakugou short of breath. He went up on his knees, sliding off of Bakugou, and dropped back down with an impact that emptied Bakugou’s lungs. Kirishima’s moan was low, sliding over Bakugou just like Kirishima’s searching fingers. He picked a rhythm and braced himself on Bakugou’s chest as he rode him, thighs tensing with the effort, nails digging into Bakugou’s skin.
Bakugou gripped Kirishima’s hips and let his head fall back. He closed his eyes and focused only on the feel of Kirishima, the sounds that rolled out of his throat, the heat of his body where it joined Bakugou’s.
This was euphoric. It was bliss.
It was worth all the teasing Kirishima had put him through.
Bakugou braced his heels against the bed and used the leverage to flip Kirishima off of him. He hit the mattress with a huff, and before he could draw another breath, Bakugou was on top of him. Bakugou kissed him with abandon, unwary of the sharp teeth cutting at his lips. He thrust into Kirishima with a snap of his hips and swallowed the moan from Kirishima’s mouth.
There was no build-up, no climb. Bakugou fucked him with a desperation that left both of them breathless, the slap of skin against skin outmatched only by the constant moans drizzling from Kirishima’s lips. Bakugou ducked his head and dug his teeth into Kirishima’s shoulder, dragging a louder, sharper sound out of him.
Their meeting in the bathroom was an exception. Most of the time, Bakugou loved hearing Kirishima’s noises.
“Katsuki,” said Kirishima. His tone was desperate, not teasing, but that affected Bakugou even more. “Fuck, Katsuki.”
“Yeah,” said Bakugou, slamming into him. “What do you want?”
“Touch me,” said Kirishima.
“No.”
Kirishima looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
“You wouldn’t touch me earlier,” said Bakugou, again biting into Kirishima’s shoulder and basking in the resultant shudder. “I’m not touching you, either.”
“Katsuki, please.” Kirishima’s fingers dug into Bakugou’s shoulders.
“Fuck you,” said Bakugou. “If you want to come, go ahead. But I’m not touching you.”
Kirishima’s groan was muffled by his teeth. He slipped a hand between them, reaching for his cock, but Bakugou caught his wrist and pinned it over his head. Kirishima writhed in his grip, but Bakugou didn’t let go.
“This isn’t fair,” whined Kirishima. “C’mon, please…”
Bakugou snapped his hips even harder and Kirishima moaned.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like being teased?” asked Bakugou through gritted teeth and a dangerous smile. “You don’t like someone fucking around with you when you want to come? I wonder what the fuck that’s like, Eijirou.”
Kirishima shivered. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Yes, it fucking is,” growled Bakugou. “I’ve been hard all fucking day because of you.” He thrust into Kirishima hard enough to steal his breath. “You’re all I’ve been able to think about since you walked away from me.” Another snap of his hips, another moan from Kirishima. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”
“Katsuki… please…”
“I told you to come,” said Bakugou. “Go ahead. Just from my cock.” He slammed in harder, deeper, and Kirishima clenched around him. “Come on, babe. Let me see it.”
Bakugou thought the pet name would send Kirishima over the edge.
He was right.
Kirishima went rigid beneath him, squeezing around Bakugou like a vice. He came with a breathy gasp, cock twitching as he spewed a trail of come over his own stomach. His moan was delayed, sliding through his lips only after his orgasm punched through him. That, and the wrecked look on his face, was enough to finish Bakugou.
He pulled out with only a split second to spare, fisting his cock as pleasure crackled in his blood. His palms burned, and he barely kept his quirk under control as he sprayed come onto Kirishima, doubling the mess. The sound in his throat was more of a snarl than a moan, low and harsh. When the last wave of bliss pulsed through him, Bakugou slumped to the side, lying beside Kirishima with a satisfied huff.
For a few minutes they were silent, both of them regaining their breath and floating down from their orgasms.
“Hey,” said Kirishima after a while. “Are you really mad about earlier?”
“No,” said Bakugou, without opening his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck.”
He wasn’t looking at Kirishima, but he still knew he was smiling. Bakugou could feel it. “I think you liked it.”
“Fuck off.”
Kirishima’s fingers slipped through Bakugou’s hair, gently. “Is that what you really want? Or would you rather have me sleep over?”
“You sleep over every night anyway,” grumbled Bakugou. “Do whatever you want.”
“What do you want, though?”
“I want you to clean yourself up before you get come in my bed,” said Bakugou, opening his eyes into a glare.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Of course I want you to stay over,” snapped Bakugou. “If I didn’t, I would’ve kicked you out by now. Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Kirishima leaned close, grinning. “Love you too, man.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain when Kirishima kissed him. There wasn’t much he could complain about, when it came to Kirishima. Even the day’s discomfort hadn’t been all that bad, considering the payoff.
As much as Bakugou pretended that Kirishima annoyed him, he was always worth the trouble.