Why Should We
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Rating: Explicit Pairing: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Toshinori Yagi | All Might Note: from the kiss prompt “15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick” that then got out of hand
If pressed later, Shouta would definitely try to blame it on the alcohol, but really he barely had anything and his next move is almost entirely the fault of the noise Toshinori makes and just how good it sounds.
AO3: (x)
Shouta grunts as Hizashi drops onto the barstool besides him, tossing his body weight around more than usual thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol he’s downed in the last few hours. It’s only Shouta’s mostly-sober status that keeps them upright on the barstools.
“Get off me.”
“Drinking was supposed to chill you out Sho,” Hizashi slurs against his back.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Well why the hell not?”
Shouta turns as much as he can to send a glare over his shoulder. “Someone needs to keep an eye on you idiots.”
Hizashi, despite appearing about five minutes away from passing out on the bar, has the presence of mind to sit up slightly, wagging his brows suggestively. “Keep an eye on who, exactly? Because I’m definitely not the blond you’ve been eyeing all night.”
Shouta looks instinctively across the room before he can remind himself of what a terrible idea it is to give Hizashi any ammo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hizashi laughs, loud enough to pull a few looks from the patrons around them at the bar, but those on the dance floor easily ignore the outburst. Everyone on the dance floor, including Toshinori. The tall man towers over most of the crowd but even through the thick throngs of people, Shouta can tell he’s dancing with someone and has been dancing with someone for most of the night.
“Just admit you wish you were the one getting up close and personal with the big guy on the dance floor and this night can get a lot better for everyone.”
Shouta seriously considers pushing Hizashi off the bar stool entirely, but it feels like too much of a reaction and then he would definitely never be left alone until he admitted to something. Not to mention listening to Hizashi’s whining about being pushed, let alone pushed to a filthy bar floor, would be exasperating.
“I’m just keeping an eye on him to make sure nothing happens.”
Hizashi laughs again, draping himself back over Shouta’s shoulders. “He’s the symbol of peace, I think he can handle himself if anyone gets a little too rowdy on the dance floor.”
“He regularly spits up blood on a good day, and now he’s already had at least one round, despite lacking a stomach.”
Hizashi rolls his eyes. “He barely touched his drink, stop being such a mother hen.”
Before Shouta can come up with a reply, Nemuri extracts herself from the crowd on the floor to join them – or more accurately find someone else to dance with. Hizashi, a more than happy and willing sacrifice, saves Shouta from her begging. If she was about two drinks less drunk that probably wouldn’t have worked, but for now the two stumbling idiots are happy to fall over each other on their way to the dance floor, slipping back into the throng of moving bodies and easily forgetting their stationary friend.
Shouta follows their movements for as long as he can, but they quickly get swallowed up by the shifting crowd. His eyes follow the moving people, unconsciously following the path right back to Toshinori. The blond is dressed in a criminally tight button up for the evening with the first few buttons open. It shows more of his thinned out frame than he usually likes, but Shouta can only appreciate how much it accentuates his still-broad shoulders and the severe taper into his thin waist and powerful hips. Unfortunately, since most of the surrounding population is not blind and most about three sheets to the wind and have lost most of their inhibitions, they have all also come to appreciate Toshinori’s form, and the skilled way he still moves his body.
Toshinori looks up from his latest dance partner, as if sensing Shouta watching him, and immediately meets his eye from across the room. Even from this distance, there is something captivating and dangerous in those dark blue eyes. Shouta grabs his drink from the bar, downing what’s left in a single swig. When he turns around, Toshinori has moved, but it only takes a moment for Shouta to find him, staying on the fringes of the crowd, still watching Shouta.
Shouta slides off the bar stool, thankful he doesn’t stumble or sway getting back on his feet. He stalks across the room, not entirely sure what he’s doing even as he’s aware he’s making a beeline for Toshinori.
The closer he gets, the more debauched Toshinori looks. His already wild blond hair is in further disarray, the shirt that was most definitely tucked into his pants at the start of the night is untucked and wrinkled at the bottom from the hands that had to have had part in pulling it up. More than the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, as well as a few at the bottom.
“Having fun?” Toshinori asks as Shouta approaches him, a teasing glint in his eyes, as if he has any idea exactly how devious he looks disheveled like this.
“It looks like someone was,” Shouta grabs the collar of his shirt, pointlessly straightening it.
“It was just dancing,” Toshinori says easily.
“Seems a little handsy for dancing,”
The light in Toshinoir’s eyes only seems to grow as he watches Shouta. “I seem to remember someone else enjoying being handsy when we danced.”
“That was once,” Shouta says. He hates how much he wants Toshinori to touch him right now and how pointed it seems that Toshinori is keeping his hands at his side while Shouta straightens his clothes.
Toshinori smiles placidly. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Shouta’s self control fraying as the seconds pass he pushes closer into Toshinori’s space, stupidly pleased at how the blond doesn’t move back. “Are you asking for something? Why don’t you actually use your words.”
Toshinori grabs him, suddenly, finally, his hands so large and so hot even through the layer of Shouta’s shirt. “Fine. Let’s stop pretending we’re just here as friends to let loose when we both know we’ll be ending up in your bed at the end of this.”
Shouta shoves even closer, pushing Toshinori until his back hits the wall. Reaching up, he buries his hands in those wild blond locks, pulling Toshinori down for a bruising kiss. Toshinori squeezes him tighter before one hand trails up to Shouta’s own hair, musing the loose bun he has it in and responding to the kiss with fervor. Shouta bites at his bottom lip, the gasp Shouta feels more than hears forcing his mouth open further.
Shouta licks at Toshinori’s lip, already feeling swollen from his harsh treatment, as he pulls back for a breath.
“Sorry, that was a little hard.”
Toshinori’s tongue darts out to soothe the bite as well, keeping Shouta close enough that his warm breath falls across his flushed skin. “Don’t apologize.”
“With an attitude like that, no wonder they were getting handsy on the dance floor.”
Toshinori leans down for another kiss and Shouta easily gives in, running his other hand across his chest. He hits bare skin, the open buttons leaving little in his way, and tugs at the collar to pull his shirt open even more. Breaking the kiss Shouta bites at Toshinori’s sharp jaw, soothing the nip with another kiss and trailing down his elegant neck with similar love bites. The music is so loud he thinks he has to be imaging the deep moan that comes from Toshinori but it goes to his head anyways.
“Maybe I was just doing it to make you jealous.”
Shouta bites at his collar, harsher than before, but Toshinori doesn’t even flinch, only tightens his hold on Shouta’s hair and tilts his head to give him better access. “I’m not jealous,” Shouta mutters.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be leaving marks,” Toshinori suggests in a too-easy voice. It’s a challenge if Shouta has ever heard one.
Renewed motivation, Shouta returns to his ministrations. He finds a sensitive spot, the juncture of his throat and shoulder, where even just a light kiss has Toshinori writhing against him and he can’t help himself. Toshinori’s hips thrust against him inadvertently, and even through their jeans his arousal is obvious, straining the impossibly tight pants he’s squeezed himself into for the night. Shouta lets got of Toshinori’s shirt to trail his hand further down, brushing against the bulge at his hip and Toshinori groans above him.
If pressed later, Shouta would definitely try to blame it on the alcohol, but really he barely had anything and his next move is almost entirely the fault of that very sound and just how good it sounds. Popping open the straining button, Shouta shoves his hand down Toshinori’s jeans. The blond stutters against him, hips thrusting into the touch even as Toshinori gasps.
“What-”
“You’re not wearing any underwear?”
“I didn’t think I’d be in pants this long, honestly.”
Shouta growls against his throat, wrapping a hand around Toshinori’s thick cock, feeling it pulse hot and heavy in his hand. There really is a limited range of motion between how close their bodies are pressed together and the stupidly tight fit of his pants, but he does the best he can. He pumps his hand up and down, the soft velvet drag of skin on skin intoxicating in the heated moment. Toshinori’s muffled groans against his ear egging him on.
“What-what the hell are you doing?”
“Making it up to you for forcing you to stay in these pants for so long,” Shouta replies with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. His own jeans are uncomfortably tight and he knows there is no way Toshinori is not also extremely aware of the erection rubbing against his thigh.
Shouta twists his hand in such a way that Toshinori tosses his head back with a harsh curse. His hands find Shouta’s hips with a bruising grip, pulling him impossibly closer. He widens his stance, just slightly, but it gives Shouta more room to move his hand. He responds to the silent invitation, stroking the full length of Toshinori offered to him. His other hand pulls Toshinori’s head down for another kiss. The man’s heady scent surrounding him, his taste in his mouth, is more intoxicating than any drink Shouta’s had. And when he comes just from Shouta’s hand, moaning his name against his lips, Shouta thinks its something he could become addicted to.
Before he can even ask, Toshinori reaches into one of his front pockets, producing a plain handkerchief and offering it to Shouta for his hand. Shouta takes it with a huff.
“Take that smug look off your face.”
“Oh I’m far too satisfied for that,” Toshinori replies with an almost dreamy look. But there’s still something dangerous in the lidded look he has as he watched Shouta tuck him back into his jeans and button them back up.
Shouta shoves the soiled handkerchief into his own pocket. He’s not sure if he’s thinking more of his own neglected erection or just pulling more of those sounds from Toshinori as he steps back and says, “Let’s go.”
He turns away, but Toshinori grabs his wrist, turning him back around. Shouta stumbles slightly, but Toshinori catches him easily, one powerful thigh ending between Shouta’s own, his other hand sliding to cup his ass. Shouta nearly hisses at the drag of Toshinori’s leg between his.
Toshinori holds him in place with a single hand. “Just a moment.”
“What?”
“You can’t walk around like that,” Toshinori says with a pointed look down. “Even if you could handle the…discomfort, people would notice.”
Shouta is torn between wrenching himself out of Toshinori’s hold and grinding against his thigh. “No one is looking at me.”
Toshinori dips his head, licking a hot stripe up Shouta’s neck before reaching his ear with a soft, breathless whisper. “I am.” Using only the hand he still has on Shouta’s ass, he moves him, grinding Shouta’s clothed dick against his own leg. Shouta’s body moves of its own accord, repeating the movement without any further guidance and he groans.
“Don’t worry, I won’t ravish you here in the bar,” Toshinori says stupidly calm compared to the way Shouta’s blood is rushing. “I just want you to be able to get home alright.”
Shouta’s head drops to Toshinori’s shoulder and he considers biting the still exposed skin of this throat, just as revenge. All he can see in his mind’s eye is Toshinori stripping him down and taking him over the bar, other patrons – and their coworkers – be damned.
“Toshinori,” Shouta moans – pleads – against him. “Please, touch me.”
Toshinori’s other hand joins his first behind Shouta, moving him ever so slightly harder but not nearly touching Shouta how he needs. “That would be indecent.”
Shouta almost laughs. “You didn’t seem all that concerned about public decency a few minutes ago.”
Toshinori shrugs easily. “I’ve already been arrested for public indecency. I’m just trying to protect your reputation.”
Ignoring the obvious flaw in Toshinori’s statement, considering they were both active participants, Shouta perhaps even more so, the surprise is enough to freeze his movements. “You were what?”
Toshinori drags him closer, nearly lifting Shouta’s feet off the ground before dragging his hips back down, forcing Shouta to focus again on exactly what Toshinori wants him to focus on. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
His hand goes back to Shouta’s hair, tilting his head for a heated kiss. A moment later Shouta comes in his pants like he’s a goddamn teenager again with no self control, still rutting against Toshinori’s leg.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, but as soon as Shouta’s legs don’t feel like they might give out beneath him, he pulls Toshinori off the wall.
“Go find a taxi because if we’re not home in five minutes, you’ll be ‘ravishing’ me in the nearest alleyway.” Shouta growls, ignoring the fact they’re a minimum ten minute drive from either of their apartments.
If Toshinori is aware of the distance, he doesn’t give any indication as he nearly flies out the nearest exit to comply.
