An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"Come on, Todoroki," Shinsou pleaded, though Shouto wasn't sure if he was talking about not being taken home, or about his cigarettes being taken away. He leaned over, putting his arm around Shouto's shoulder. Shouto stiffened up at the contact. "I'll be fine." Than Shinsou was nuzzling his face into the crook of Shouto's neck, and Shouto's brain stopped working for a moment as he felt Shinsou's breath against his skin.
What was he doing?!
"You smell nice," Shinsou murmured, his battered voice low and sultry like it had been earlier today. When he had told Shouto that he wanted to sleep with him. Now he was pressed up against Shouto, and he smelled like sex and cigarettes, and Shouto didn’t even like the smell of cigarettes. Why did that make it so hard to think clearly? Why did his cock refuse to recognize what an obviously terrible idea it was to sleep with Shinsou? Shouto shifted, trying to make his growing hard-on less obvious. He gently pushed Shinsou back away from him.
“You smell like cigarettes,” he responded, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.
