Work Text:
God, handjobs are the fucking best.
Katsuki doesn’t really have anything else to compare this to, but he’s pretty sure nothing could be better than this: Kirishima’s face buried in the crook of his shoulder, worrying a patch of skin between his pointy teeth, huffing out short breaths as his hips jump into Katsuki’s touch. Whenever Katsuki shifts his grip or squeezes just so, Kirishima moans and his hands twitch where they’re fisting the back of Katsuki’s t-shirt, like he’s trying to stop himself from losing control of his quirk.
It’s fucking awesome.
They had been making out on Kirishima’s bed, which was nothing new for them, when an urgency started to spread that was new for both of them. Katsuki could only take so many minutes of them grinding their hips together before he’d given in and reached between them to feel out the shape of Kirishima’s cock through his pants with a shaking hand.
Now he’s got that cock in his hand, hot and hard and starting to leak precome from the tip. Katsuki’s already figured out that his boyfriend likes it a little differently than he does - a tighter grip with a slower upstroke - and he grins in delight when he twists his wrist and Kirishima keens into his shoulder, squirming.
“Ah!”
Katsuki smirks. He feels like he’s on top of the world. “S’it good?”
“Mhmm,” Kirishima nods immediately. He gasps again, then leans back slightly to catch Katsuki in a messy kiss full of desperation and sharp teeth.
They’re cuddled up facing each other on the bed; his other arm is trapped underneath Kirishima’s side, so he only has one hand to work with. Still, it seems like one hand is all he needs, if the way Kirishima is starting to shake is anything to go by.
Kirishima moans into his mouth, then mumbles something that might be his name. Something fond grows in Katsuki’s chest, swelling almost unbearably as sweat starts to bead at his hairline.
He breaks the kiss just to tease him. “Hah? What’s that, Ei?”
“Katsuki,” Kirishima slurs. He blinks his eyes open; his gaze is unfocused, wild.
Katsuki’s never seen him like this, never seen that look in his eyes before. Now that he has, he wants to see it again, and again, and again-
“M’gonna,” Kirishima mumbles. He takes a deep breath and shudders as Katsuki continues to pump his cock. “I - oh - oh-”
Katsuki wants to say something clever, something sexy to push his boyfriend over the edge, but all words abandon him when Kirishima starts to come, eyelids fluttering and eyebrows knitting together in a way that’s so vulnerable it makes Katsuki’s breath catch. Heat throbs in his stomach watching Kirishima’s face twist, feeling the way his dick twitches in the palm of Katsuki’s hand, spilling come between them as Kirishima gasps then curls forward to hide his face in Katsuki’s shoulder.
“Fuck, Ei,” Katsuki breathes.
His heart feels like it’s cracked a few of his ribs. Kirishima has the worst track record of making him feel things and Katsuki hates it. Now that he’s seen the way Kirishima looks when he comes, it’s bound to get even worse. He kisses the side of Kirishima’s head and frowns.
Once Kirishima’s recovered somewhat, he pushes Katsuki onto his back and reaches into his sweatpants to return the favor.
He’s tentative but eager, looking back and forth between Katsuki’s face and dick like he can’t decide what to focus on. He looks so stupid, and the worst part is that it doesn’t make Katsuki any less hard.
“You look like a fucking bobblehead,” Katsuki tells him.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to the guy that’s holding your dick,” Kirishima says with a toothy grin.
Sparks light under Katsuki’s skin when Kirishima wraps his fingers around him in a curious grip. Katsuki grabs big fistfuls of the bedsheets and tenses up when Kirishima strokes him - just once, testing the waters, dry and clumsy and better than anything Katsuki’s ever felt.
“Fuuuck.”
Kirishima licks his lips. “Hold on.” He takes his hand away, but only so he can lick his palm - very thoroughly, in a way that threatens to short-circuit Katsuki’s brain - before bringing it back. “There.”
Katsuki’s hips hitch up on reflex when the slick warmth of Kirishima’s hand surrounds him. He gasps, gripping the sheets tighter, and sees Kirishima’s eyes soften in a way that makes him feel pinned to the bed.
“Hey,” Kirishima murmurs.
He’s too far away to be rocking Katsuki’s world like this. Katsuki has to actively resist the urge to reach for him, but Kirishima seems to understand what he wants anyway; after watching his fist slip over Katsuki’s cock for a few more strokes, he crawls close enough to kiss the underside of Katsuki’s jaw, hand still working steadily.
“Ei,” Katsuki croaks. He lets go of the sheets and grabs the back of Kirishima’s shirt instead, closing his eyes. “Nnn - f-faster-”
“Yeah?”
Kirishima presses a few kisses onto his slack mouth, but Katsuki can’t really kiss him back because all of his muscles feel like they’ve stopped working. The only thing he can do is hold his boyfriend close and try to breathe through how good it feels when Kirishima speeds his hand up.
Then he opens his eyes, which is a horrible mistake. Kirishima’s looking at him with those big, earnest eyes, drinking up all the embarrassing expressions and emotions that must be passing over Katsuki’s face; once Katsuki’s locked eyes with him, he can’t look away.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Kirishima breathes, eager. His grip is too dry but Katsuki’s going to come anyway. Fuck. “Oh, man. Look at you.”
Katsuki can feel his eyes hooding as he gazes at Kirishima. “Nnn nnfuck.”
“Yeah,” Kirishima says again.
His dumb sharp teeth are digging into his lower lip in concentration, hand flying over Katsuki’s dick as precome eases the slide and fills the room with filthy slick sounds. He’s watching Katsuki closely - must want to see him come, want to make him come.
Oh, god. He’s fucking going to. Kirishima’s going to make him come.
Katsuki’s breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut tight, remembers the open book of Kirishima’s face from just minutes earlier and prays he doesn’t look the same way.
“Ei - Ei-”
He feels lips press against his forehead and blinks his eyes open in surprise - god, it feels so good, it’s too much - Kirishima’s face is so close to his own - and then the other boy nudges their foreheads together and whispers, “C’mon, Katsuki,” and it’s fucking over.
Katsuki gasps and throws his head back against the pillow as his palms pop against the planes of Kirishima’s back and liquid heat melts him from the inside.
When Katsuki’s brain recovers from being mush, the first thing he sees is Kirishima grinning stupidly at him.
“That was awesome,” Kirishima says.
Katsuki averts his eyes. “Tch.”
“I did kinda like this shirt, but - totally worth it,” Kirishima says.
“What are you talking about, hair-for-brains, if you wash it before it dries then-”
Katsuki cuts off mid-sentence when the smell of singed fabric hits his nose. Oh fuck no.
He lifts his hands off of Kirishima’s back and peers down at - yep, there are two large holes in Kirishima’s shirt where Katsuki had been clinging, ragged at the edges and still smoking gently. Luckily, Kirishima’s skin is undamaged; he must have used his quirk.
Katsuki’s face flames bright red and he’s quick to cover it with his hands, squirming even though Kirishima’s still got him pinned. “Oh my god.”
Kirishima lets go of him to wipe his hand on his ruined shirt. “What?”
“I swear that hasn’t happened since I was, like, twelve,” Katsuki mumbles.
“Aw, babe!” Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s so cute. Is it gonna happen every time, though? Because next time I’ll just take my sh-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki snaps. His face is so hot. “Get off, I have to piss.”
“Okay,” Kirishima says agreeably.
He sneaks a peck onto Katsuki’s lips when Katsuki uncovers his face. Katsuki allows it, even kisses him back, briefly, before climbing out of bed on wobbly legs and heading for the bathroom. The last thing he sees before he closes the door is Kirishima peeling off his ruined shirt; the glimpse of his bare chest makes Katsuki’s mouth go dry.
Once he’s alone, he takes a few seconds to just breathe.
There’s a lump in his throat. He thinks it’s a good one.
Katsuki looks at himself in the mirror. He feels like the same person he was before. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel any different. Kirishima still kissed him and looked at him the same; he wonders what’s going through his boyfriend’s head.
There’s a streak of come on his black shirt. He’s not sure if it’s his.
After Katsuki uses the toilet and rinses the stain off with cold water, he leaves the bathroom and finds Kirishima already dressed for bed.
“Hey, it’s late,” Kirishima says. He looks nervous, for some reason. “D’you wanna, um… stay here? For the night?”
Oh. They’ve never done that before either. Katsuki thinks about it, imagines sleeping in his own bed by himself while he feels… like this, and quickly decides, “Yeah.”
Kirishima beams at him and hops up from the bed. “Okay! I don’t use half the cabinets they gave us, but I think they left extra toothbrushes in there somewhere.”
“They better,” Katsuki says, turning and following Kirishima back into the bathroom. “You must go through so fuckin’ many.”
They’re just bantering like they normally do. Katsuki isn’t sure if they’re supposed to talk about what they just did. Kirishima’s usually the one who likes to talk about shit, so Katsuki’s just going to follow his lead.
After they’re done in the bathroom, Katsuki lets himself be herded toward the bed wearing only his boxers. Kirishima tosses him a big, soft shirt to sleep in; Katsuki pulls it on and crawls into bed, wiggling under the covers to face the wall as Kirishima turns out the light.
The smell of Kirishima’s pillow makes the ache in his chest worse.
The bed dips and Katsuki feels Kirishima spoon up behind him, cuddling close and pulling the covers over them both.
“Is this okay?” Kirishima asks softly.
Katsuki doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods.
“Mmkay. Goodnight,” Kirishima says. He kisses the back of Katsuki’s neck. “Love you a lot.”
The lump in Katsuki’s throat gets bigger, but he manages, “Love you too.”
Kirishima squirms around a little until he’s settled. Katsuki keeps his breathing steady - in, out, in, out - as he feels Kirishima’s even out as well, soft puffs of air against the nape of his neck becoming regular and predictable.
After a few minutes, Katsuki is pretty sure his boyfriend has fallen asleep.
He feels… seen.
Known.
And Kirishima’s still here.
Katsuki feels his face screw up, lump moving up to well at the back of his throat. What the fuck? Why does he feel like he’s about to cry?
Turning his face into the pillow just makes it worse because of how much it smells like Kirishima. There’s a weight behind his eyes and, try as he might, he can’t stop tears from brimming over, though he does everything he can to keep from actually crying.
In the end, it doesn’t work, and a quiet sob slips past his clenched teeth.
“Katsuki?”
Fuck. Fuck.
“Are you crying?”
“Fuck off,” Katsuki snaps, but the floodgates are open and he hiccups out another sob before starting to cry in earnest.
“Whoa - hey - babe, what’s wrong?” Kirishima sits up and puts a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki shakes it off. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t - fucking know,” Katsuki sobs.
He turns onto his other side and pulls Kirishima back down to the bed so he can hide his face against Kirishima’s chest. Wow, Katsuki… loves him a lot. He sniffles and squeezes him so tightly that Kirishima grunts.
Katsuki feels a tentative hand settle in his hair a few seconds later, petting him gently.
“I didn’t… um… hurt you, did I?” Kirishima asks, his voice small.
Even mid-cry, Katsuki leans back to glare up at him. “No. D-don’t be st-stupid.”
He then promptly shoves his face back against Kirishima’s chest, breathing in his scent and trying to calm down.
Kirishima goes back to petting him. “Kaminari told me that some people cry a lot after… um, after sex. Maybe you’re one of them?”
That does the trick; Katsuki’s offended enough that he stops crying. “What the fuck would Pikachu know about any of that?”
“Nothing, I guess,” Kirishima snorts.
“You better not tell him about this,” Katsuki mutters.
“Hey, why the hell would I tell him?” Kirishima asks, sounding offended. His hand tightens in Katsuki’s hair.
Katsuki breathes shakily, still calming down. Old habits die hard; it’s taken him weeks to wrap his head around the fact that Kirishima isn’t out to gain anything from being with him besides just… being with him. “You’re right. Sorry.”
Kirishima’s hand relaxes again.
“I’m fine, Ei. Go back to sleep,” Katsuki mumbles into his chest.
“Can you breathe like this?”
Katsuki scoffs and nuzzles even closer. “Your pecs aren’t that huge. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Hey!”
This time, Katsuki can tell when Kirishima actually falls asleep, because he can feel his heartbeat slow where his cheek’s pressed to his chest. It’s more soothing than it has any right to be, and Katsuki follows him a few minutes later.