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Maybe it was the alcohol.
No, scratch that. It was definitely the alcohol.
A sober Izuku would never do something like this. Sober Izuku would lose his mind at something like this. But Izuku wasn’t sober. And neither were his companions.
The burn of rough stubble on his skin pulled him back to the present, and he turned his head away to give Shōta's hungry lips easier access to his neck. The surprise scrape of teeth was enough to have Izuku hissing, his back arching and pushing his chest further into Hizashi's hold.
Yes. It was definitely the alcohol. How else had he ended up sandwiched between his coworkers.
While one man sucked bruises into his neck, the other was more than happy to squeeze at Izuku's chest, revelling in the little hitches in breath he got in response. If he pulled away from one man he was met with the other, thoroughly trapped between them in a prison of worshipping touches.
Izuku was already so wet and losing his mind.
“Gods, Izuku. Your tits are perfect.”
Hizashi gave another squeeze, thumbs flicking over stiff nipples as he slotted a thigh between Izuku's legs, giving the younger man something to grind down on. Izuku flushed red, the embarrassing heat rolling up his body at the compliment. He'd long assumed Hizashi was a talker during something like this, the blonde was a talker in every other aspect of his life too, but it was different being the subject.
“Shō. Shō, you gotta see them.”
Shōta peered over the shoulder he had been nibbling at, watching the swell and tug of flesh beneath his husband's hands, humming in approval. Izuku rewarded the noise by grinding back against the erection pressed against his ass.
“I see them, ‘Zashi. How does he taste?”
Hizashi's moustache tickled his chest briefly before the man latched onto a nipple, sucking and nipping until Izuku was gasping. Relief was short lived when he swapped sides, the spit damp skin red around the tortured nub.
“Ah! Hizashi!”
The man just smirked against his skin.
Izuku reached a hand back to tangle in Shōta's hair, pulling gently until the man got the hint and kissed him hard. He tasted fruity, like the over priced cocktails Nemuri had been insistently buying for the table, and Izuku found himself chasing the taste when they pulled apart. His mournful whine was met with a low, rumbling chuckle.
“Patience, you. Let's go somewhere more comfortable, then we can adore you properly.”
He was right. They'd barely made it through the door before they'd all given in to the tension that had been building throughout the night. Two steps into the genkan had been all they'd managed before Hizashi had swooped in to start undoing Izuku’s shirt. Not that Izuku'd been any better, hands desperate as he reached for the blonde. Then Shōta had stepped in behind him and suddenly it was harder to focus on anything that wasn't need.
Despite his pathetic protest Izuku let himself be pulled through the couples’ apartment. None of what he saw registered in his mind — too focused on the dark silhouette leading him to the bedroom. Hizashi followed close behind him, hands never leaving his hips, pushing gently to encourage him along. He supposed he’d have plenty of time to explore in the morning. Impending hangover permitting.
The dizzying haze of alcohol and arousal held him firmly as he was undressed between wandering touches and searing kisses. It didn’t take long for them to have Izuku panting between them, significantly less clothed and wholly unused to the level of attention, unable to focus on any one sensation.
Was he meant to react to focus on Hizashi's mouth or Shōta's hands? On which of the erections pressed against his skin? His hand at the back of Shōta's neck or the one on Hizashi's hip? It was all too much at once.
The orgasm was unexpected. He hadn't realised he had gotten so worked up. It surged through him, small but fierce, leaving him a shuddering mess against Shōta's chest as he rapidly came down.
“Woah. You good there, Izuku?” Calloused hands held him gently, thumbs rubbing soothingly on his shoulders.
“‘m good, Shō. I'm good. Jus-Just gimme a sec’n.”
Hizashi scooted into view next to his husband, grinning. “Was that what I think it was?”
The sass was automatic, tumbling from drunk lips before he could think. “You've never seen an orgasm before, ‘Zashi?” Izuku glanced back to Shōta, holding a stubbly cheek in a gentle hand before looking the blonde dead in the eyes. “Oh, your poor husband.”
Shōta huffed a quiet laugh.
The blonde gasped, seeming scandalised but eyes still shining. “Oh. You see that Shō? He has jokes.” Hizashi moved with purpose and pushed Izuku toward the bed. Izuku was forced to scramble atop the blankets and settle in to Shōta's lap, unsure of when the hero had stripped and slipped behind him. “Now you lay back, and let me eat that sweet pussy of yours; I'll show you an orgasm. Gonna blow your mind.”
His voice held that telltale vibration of his quirk, and Izuku felt his drunken mind run wild with the implication. Of course Hizashi would know how to weave his quirk into sex. It was his voice. His throat. His being. Every time he spoke it held power and control. It would be as easy as breathing to use his quirk while blowing his husband.
Or his colleague.
“Just lay back, there's a good boy. Shō, you comfy back there?” Izuku felt Shōta shift behind him, affirming his comfort. “Tap out if it gets too much, but Baby, you're in for a treat”
…
It was going to be a long night.