Archive of Our Own ^beta

Reflexively - like the twitch in his fingers every so often - Izuku takes hold of Bakugo's arm, fisting at the soft material of his sleeve. He holds it like the world might end if he lets go, rippling up the fabric in chaotic peaks.

He stares, pretends that this is normal and not out of the blue, and whispers into space, "Come to my room."

As the moon clambers to its apex in the sky, it lights the rigid lines of Bakugo's expression; slanted brows and tightly drawn lips. The edges of his blond hair go hazy, haloed - a vision. A quiet song of holy bells in the back of the mind, barely louder than his tinnitus.

"What?"

Just a decibel higher, only noticeable because he was paying attention.

"I can't-… you remember when we were kids and slept over and made beds on the floor and talked about nothing until we fell asleep?" The admission doesn't hurt so much anymore. Instead, it's this mollifying thing that has tendrils of warmth that encase Izuku's heart, careful in its squeeze.

"You're kidding, right?" Again, only a little louder than the slow wind outside. So small, fraying at the edges.

Izuku shakes his head, "About the fort part, yeah." Not everything else, though.

Everything else, he needs. He tries to convey that with his eyes, imploring as he stares into the dark corners of Bakugo's eyes, only partially lit by the moon. His hand, previously a vice on the blond's shirt, travels to his shoulder, resting above fabric and bandages that conceal a week's torments.

Bakugo stiffens, maybe from pain but probably from the insecurity.

They did bad. Real bad.

So bad that Izuku runs to the person who knows him best but hates him most and begs for one good night of sleep amidst all these broken faces behind his eyelids.

Eyes trained somewhere behind Izuku, Bakugo replies, "Sure."

And so they make their way upstairs, stopping at Izuku's door as he fumbles for his key in his pocket. He doesn't really feel the fingers that press against the nape of his neck until he has cool metal in his hand. It's a silent acknowledgment, skimming over this new, jagged scar that had nearly paralyzed Izuku.

Both of them had been in the hospital for weeks, recovering from what might've been the worst night of their lives to date.

He doesn't think about it.

Instead, he pushes the door open after turning the lock, reaching absently for the light switch. It floods the room and makes it more bearable, seeing only a wash of orange when he blinks. Thankful that he had cleaned a few days before, Izuku starts pulling all the blankets and pillows from his bed and tosses them on the floor in the middle of the room, meticulous about the layout because it's the one thing he can do right.

Bakugo lingers near the door, hands in his pockets, like he's judging Izuku on how well he constructs this makeshift bed. He can do it better with the mild pressure.

When he finishes, there's this space of All Might branded bedding on the floor, highly reminiscent of the past. If it was changed to the Silver Age All Might stuff, it might even be an exact match.

Izuku looks up at Bakugo expectantly.

Bakugo scoffs, but lies down on his side, facing away as he pulls up a blanket to his chin.

Izuku turns off the lights before settling in place, trying to find some kind of comfort with a hard floor underneath him. Instead, all he can do is stare at the back of Bakugo's head, eyeing the bandages that peek out from underneath his shirt.

It prompts Izuku to say, "I'm sorry."

He hears Bakugo shuffle, sees one red eye over his shoulder.

"What for?" It's flat, like it could be anything in the world, not a devastating reminder of just how fragile they are.

"It was my fault that mission went so bad. I messed up and got us-"

Bakugo shuts him up with a hand on his mouth, fully turned to lean on his still-healing arm. Izuku is surprised by how light the touch is. Usually he expects his fingers to dig into his cheeks and threaten an explosion right to the tongue. Instead, it's this soft, almost careful hold.

"Don't start. I already heard all your apologies in the hospital." Bakugo frowns, "Hell of a lot to say to a guy on his deathbed."

Izuku immediately feels his face brighten with heat, creeping up to his ears and down his neck.

"I was still serious." He mutters, turning his face away because he can't hold the stare anymore.

No response comes from Bakugo for a few seconds and Izuku just can't help his curious, hopeful gaze finding him again. Again, fixed over his shoulder, that telltale thinking that Bakugo does with empty eyes.

When they refocus, it's straight on Izuku, his face. He feels even more embarrassed.

"How long?"

Well, that's a reasonable question to ask.

Izuku chuckles to hide his nervousness, "Ah, I dunno. Probably after coming to UA. But before middle school, I think it started."

He doesn't care to elaborate, thinking back on just how deep it all ran. Izuku had never really been interested in anyone else the way he was with Bakugo. These past three years had been spent singularly striving to reach his level, trying to prove himself worthy.

The last battle they had utterly destroyed his work.

All the late-night training, all the fights won, all the words spoken - destroyed.

He had one job. One job and he couldn't even do it. And every single night since then, in the hospital and out, he's had the same nightmares of Bakugo pinned up against that wall, rebar sticking out of him like a pin cushion, blood dripping down into a pool.

He couldn't do anything to stop it.

Izuku shocks out of his thoughts as one of Bakugo's hands press to the fading bruise on his collarbone, flaring in discomfort.

"Stop muttering, there was nothing we could've done." A whisper again, like admitting it hurts more than all the injuries had.

Izuku sees those pinched eyebrows and thin lips and knows what weight seems to hang from both of them, deepening their gravity until it seems the entire earth might swallow them whole.

Very, very tentatively, Izuku wraps his fingers around Bakugo's wrist, pulling it back so he can see it. He sees white lines, old scars, and immaculate fingernails that had to be cut down after becoming jagged as he clawed his way out of the rubble.

He implores with only his eyes.

Bakugo says nothing.

Izuku presses a kiss to his knuckles, releasing all the tension from his body. It makes him feel lighter, like he could do anything if Bakugo was with him.

He thinks back to that night in the hospital, where he had confessed everything. He had cried and blubbered into Bakugo's hand, holding it tight to his face so he could still feel his pulse. He'd spilled his entire heart out onto the sheets - all these years of yearning and worrying have done him so little - and passed out from the force of his agony.

Bakugo hadn't said anything. He just watched Izuku, eyes bleary with sleep as his multiple broken ribs and flesh wounds still healed.

All Izuku could've done was hold his hand.

All Izuku can do now is hold his hand.

He sniffs, trying to push back all the tears that seem to threaten to spill over his cheeks.

"Sorry." For this. For what happened. For everything.

I'm sorry you had to have me get attached to you.

"Izuku."

He blinks, looks through wobbly vision.

Bakugo moves his palm to rest gently on Izuku's face, fingertips digging into the curve of his jaw. It barely registers, blocked out as Bakugo's eyes come closer, exactly in front of Izuku when he presses their foreheads together. They're sorrowful, dripping at the corners with care.

"Don't do shit like that again. I'll kill you if you die on me."

That hand moves to grip at the nape of his neck, covering the slowly healing scar there.

Izuku had been reckless. He always is. Especially when it comes to Bakugo.

If the Pro Heroes had shown up even a minute later, he might've died, never mind being paralyzed.

He just wanted to save.

"Please." Izuku can't even hear his own voice, just asks like his life depends on it.

He can't move on his own. He just takes when Bakugo finally presses their lips together, stuck in a loop of begging for mercy and consuming without thought.

A harsh breath works up between them when Bakugo bites at his lip, feverish with want. Izuku wants. He wants all of it. He needs to know they're both still here.

Too carefully, he pushes at Bakugo's good shoulder, hovering over him with no pressure so he doesn't ruin the progress his injuries have made.

For a good moment, he just watches as emotions morph across Bakugo's face, catching on irritation, then acceptance, and now this little elusive thing that makes him think 'flustered'. It surely crawls up his neck and to his ears, tinting them red in the dark.

Izuku makes a point of keeping his chest in the air as he leans back down to kiss Bakugo. It's not meant to be teasing, but Bakugo must feel like it is because he takes ahold of Izuku's hips and brings them down, a tandem groan erupting.

Immediately the air feels too hot, electric, and Izuku couldn't get redder.

"Kacchan." He mumbles against Bakugo's lips, unable to stop the small shift he does that helps him get half-hard. He wasn't exactly expecting this from what he thought was going to be a quiet, resentful night on the floor.

"I'm not made of glass, Deku. Just fucking kiss me or I'll really break something." Is the answer back, poignant with a lustful gravel. It makes something inside Izuku's abdomen jump, icy cold and hot at the same time.

He grinds down on the next pass at Bakugo's mouth, but slowly migrates because he wants to know every part he can get to intimately. Just under Bakugo's ear, he nips at the skin, curious what response he'll get.

It's exactly what he was hoping for - Bakugo practically bucks his hips upward, a loud gasp echoing in the quiet room.

"Don't fucking tease." The blond says breathlessly, one hand fisting Izuku's hair at the back of his head.

He chooses not to answer. Instead, he moves down to Bakugo's neck, careful to bite at his good shoulder where any marks might be out of sight. Each one is light, since Bakugo doesn't need any more marks on his body. But he makes sure each is punctuated with a kiss.

Izuku's hand stays planted on Bakugo's cheek as he works, feeling the soft skin there prickle with heat.

Maybe in any other situation, Izuku would be afraid of being blown sky-high. Right now, though, he's way too focused on his mission.

When he finally reaches the collar of Bakugo's tank top, he tugs at the hem, hoping the message comes across.

It certainly does, and both of their shirts are tossed away soon after.

Bakugo seems spurred by the sudden show of skin because now he's got both hands on Izuku's thighs, keeping him in place as they rock back and forth, chasing some kind of ending. The steady pressure does wonders for Izuku's dick but not for his brain, which fizzles out of thought from how good he feels.

He's torn between wanting to keep exploring Bakugo's body and keeping up the grinding when Bakugo asks, "How far is this going to go?"

"As far as you want," Izuku answers automatically, confident in it because he's wanted, needed, for the longest time. He's almost surprised he hadn't jumped the gun earlier, being an unbelievably horny teenager with a room all to himself.

This reminds him of the nights he spends pleasuring himself with Bakugo's name on his lips, never daring to do more than that.

It must be evident on his face because, for the first time since Bakugo stepped in here, a smirk crosses his lips.

"You want me that bad?"

Izuku practically explodes, abashed down to his toes.

He rests his forehead on Bakugo's collarbone, smacking him lightly on his shoulder, "Shut up."

"Not a bad thing, Deku." And then, quieter, "I'll be glad it's you."

Slowly, Izuku brings his eyes up to interpret what exactly that sentence and that expression mean.

And then it clicks.

"You'll be my first too." He presses the words into Bakugo's chest, close enough that he resumes his task of mapping all the skin he can get to.

He's glad to know they're both in the same boat, then. He figured that this might be true, that Izuku had been so focused on Bakugo that he'd never let anyone else in and that Bakugo had been so busy fighting for the top spot that he'd never had time for anything else.

They're definitely no strangers to their own pleasure, though, judging from how long they've lasted so far. Izuku knows he can hold his own, but with Bakugo here as reality, his stamina might wane.

This is reality, though. So he takes the opportunity into his hands and kisses down Bakugo's abdomen, sweet sweat dotting the dips in his muscles. Tastes as good as it smells, Izuku is pleased to figure out.

Once he reaches the waistband of Bakugo's sweatpants, he looks up to gauge the reaction.

Breathless apprehension, if his expression is anything to go by.

"Can I?" Izuku asks, just to make sure. He thinks Bakugo might just do it himself with how hard he glares.

Izuku tugs it all off, skimming his fingers over Bakugo's hip bones as he takes in the look of everything.

He almost laughs at himself because he got fully hard just from the way Bakugo's cock leans against his stomach, dripping pre-cum.

Izuku takes Bakugo into his hand and starts working in slow strokes, spreading some slickness to make it easier. Bakugo's fingers curl into Izuku's hair, almost tugging. He smiles, pulls against it so he feels a slight burn in his scalp. It makes him hot all over.

Leaning closer so he can rest his head near Bakugo's, Izuku keeps up a steady pace as he whispers in Bakugo's ear, "What do you want from me?"

Maybe he just wants to hear it.

"It would be great if you stopped throwing yourself into unwinnable situations." If he still has enough willpower to joke, Izuku isn't doing his job well enough.

He stops his movement, smiling as he watches Bakugo groan in frustration.

"What else do you want? Right now."

Patiently, he waits. His thumb dips into the slit at the head, dragging out a feeling that gets Bakugo going.

"You need to stop talking."

It's good enough.

Izuku trails back down his stomach, dragging his tongue along skin until he reaches the deep v of Bakugo's pelvis, mouthing at the sensitive skin. It keeps him occupied as he picks back up on his stroking, occasionally getting close enough to lick the base.

It draws these delightful noises from Bakugo's throat, makes him clutch at Izuku's hair and sheets. He almost makes it when he sees All Might's face peeking out from behind Bakugo's shoulder and snorts into his skin.

"The fuck you laughing at?" His partner pants, barely able to speak over the pulse in his chest.

"Not the sexiest place I imagined we'd do this." Izuku gestures with his head to the surroundings, pinching his lips to contain anything else that threatens to leave.

Now that he's taken back from the edge, Bakugo can think enough to shake his head, "Fucking whatever. Let's just use the bed so my back doesn't hurt as much."

Izuku feels stupid. He made Bakugo, who had multiple surgeries done in the past week, sleep on a hardwood floor for nostalgia's sake. Even back then, it was on a carpet!

"Oh my God, Kacchan, I'm so sorry! Here, let me-" And he scrambles to help Bakugo up, holding out his hand. The blond gives him one of those incredulous looks but takes it anyway.

And suddenly Izuku is reminded of how hot Bakugo can be standing.

His toned muscles shift as he stands, broad at the chest and impossibly slim at the waist. His height doesn't offset Izuku by much but those few inches make Izuku look up into his dark hooded eyes and want to give in.

He gingerly takes Bakugo's face into both hands, drunk on the warmness in his chest as he smiles. He can't help it. They were both alive right now. This is what he's waited for forever. If he's lucky enough, maybe this will happen again.

His goofy grin must be completely out of place because Bakugo goes silent, flicking back and forth between both eyes like he might get an answer. When he doesn't, he sighs and leans forward, pulling Izuku by the waist until they're kissing again.

This time it's much slower and sweeter, just this molten thing that drips down their bodies and keeps them locked until they come up for air. It's the nicest drowning Izuku has ever experienced.

His fingers card through the hair next to Bakugo's ear, hot breath skimming across his face. He wants so desperately. Everything, anything. Whatever Bakugo will let him have.

Izuku gently pushes Bakugo backward, skimming his lips along his jaw until he finally gets to the bed and sits. Then he sinks down, coaxing legs apart and hands onto his shoulders.

The reaction is immediate when Izuku finally takes Bakugo into his mouth, inexperienced but fully attentive as he figures out what Bakugo likes. He has blunt fingers digging into his back occasionally, migrating to his hair to hold him halfway down.

He tries to breathe steadily through his nose, looks up into Bakugo's eyes as he's held in place. Bakugo can't catch his breath, undone by warmth and friction with no direction. Izuku understands. He can barely think over the throb in his pants, which really should be gone by now.

When Bakugo releases him, Izuku slides off so he can get rid of the last of his clothes, too hot and confined. He takes up residence in Bakugo's lap after, taking his face into his hands.

Looking into Bakugo's eyes makes Izuku feel like the world is so small, like it's been condensed down to just the two of them and distilled into this sickly saccharine solution. He tastes it on his lips and skin, feels it stick to his hairline and run down his back.

Izuku sighs heavily, resting his forehead against Bakugo's. It almost feels like home.

"Will you…?"

"What do you want?" The blond whispers against his cheek. Wandering hands smooth down his sides to his thighs, circling in comforting motions.

"Let me feel you." He takes those hands and kisses them, reveling for a bit longer before getting up to grab lube from his nightstand. When he's settled back down, he presses the bottle into Bakugo's hand and kisses down his neck.

Bakugo is very careful in the way he opens Izuku up, slow and methodical with a constant pressure that heats the air around them. Izuku quietly tells him how to do it the way he likes: prodding with one, scissoring with two, and thrusting with three.

Bakugo's fingers are thicker than his own, making Izuku keen into his shoulder with the way they fill out every part of him. The unoccupied hand Bakugo has travels up and down his back, sometimes getting a good grip on his ass that makes him shudder.

It's almost surprising, how tender it all feels. Izuku was expecting Bakugo to match the persona he puts on in front of others, all rough and loud and angry.

This, rather, feels like what love is made of.

The feeling in his chest almost triumphs the pleasure he's experiencing, smoldering brightly until he feels his whole body light up with the flame.

"You okay?" He hears Bakugo whisper in his ear, probably concerned with how prone Izuku went.

A muffled 'Fine' leaves Izuku, bringing his nose into the crook of Bakugo's neck and feels how warm and safe it is.

It's not enough, so Bakugo slowly pulls his fingers out, much to Izuku's protest.

He pushes him back to take in his face, concern underlying his features. And he probably sees just how struck Izuku is, sees the pure worship in his eyes and sighs so softly.

"Let me-"

"Please." Izuku doesn't even need to hear the rest. He'll do anything, give anything, be anything. He needs to feel them here, warm and beating.

Bakugo's quick to slick himself up, but Izuku is the one that takes him and lines him up, rising and lowering on his knees at Bakugo's sides.

It's a slow ride to the bottom, but once he reaches it, Izuku muffles a moan against Bakugo's shoulder, staying there just feeling the way he's full and alive.

His skin is so hot that he feels the sweat following his curves. Everything centers on his core, how deep Bakugo hits and how complete he feels.

Izuku threads his fingers into the blond's hair and kisses the living hell out of him, never wanting to let go of this moment.

They start in a slow rhythm, Izuku rocking in Bakugo's lap as zips of pleasure run all the way up his spine, making him shiver with each pass. The air between their mouths is electrified, buzzing against wet skin. It's like the telltale wave of static that preludes whenever Bakugo lets off an explosion, usually so large the sonic blast hits before the sound makes it to your ears.

Izuku wants to be burned, molten and crawling.

Against Bakugo's lips, he murmurs, "Use- use your quirk on me."

Just saying it, making the crazy request, has him going faster, the blond meeting him with each movement. He just needs a little more.

"Izuku-"

"Just a little." And, with these unfettered, desperate eyes, "Please."

When he feels the first crackle of heat against his lower back, Izuku keens loudly. He hears himself in his own ears, knows that he needs to control himself, but that's the farthest thing from what he wants to do.

It had only been a quick burst but Izuku feels the lingering, tender skin flare with heat and tingle when Bakugo's fingers skim over it like he's trying to heal it.

"Again."

This time, he's ready, bites a mark into Bakugo's shoulder and jumps between thrusts when it hits him at the base of his spine.

It's so dangerous, so hot. Izuku thinks he might cum just from the feeling.

"Didn't know you were so into this," Bakugo whispers right against the shell of his ear. The full-body shiver has Izuku backing up to look into his red eyes.

There's an obvious hint of concern, lurking just below the lustful haze that's painted the room orange.

"That's what happens when you bully a kid during puberty with a quirk." Izuku almost chuckles, but a tender hand on his cheek stifles it.

"You want me to do that shit to you again?" More concern, absolutely dripping off his tongue.

"No, no, it's not like that." Struggling to find the right words, especially when he's still determinedly riding like there's no tomorrow, Izuku falters. "I just- fuck, the feeling of it-"

He grabs Bakugo's hand, laces their fingers. With even just a small amount, his hand faintly glows with strands of One for All, passing along the skin.

"The power." He slurs, squeezing just the smallest bit but he thinks Bakugo understands with how red his ears go.

Deliberately unspoken, Izuku thinks that it's proof. Proof that they can survive.

In between their palms, those red hot sparks dazzle and Izuku has to muffle another moan into Bakugo's skin, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Fuck, Izu." A growl against his temple, followed by a thrust up that gets an equally loud sound out of his throat.

From there they devolve, Bakugo's hand skimming with sparks all along the areas of Izuku's body that can be covered while Izuku fists a hand in the blond's hair, nipping at his lips.

Despite the pain and pleasure mixing, Izuku relishes each moment because he can definitively say they are alive.

His hands wander, caressing at old scars all along Bakugo's back, wanting to take away all the memories and replace them with better ones. Hopefully this is just the first step. When he takes the blond's face into his hands, he sees the future there.

One of Bakugo's hands shifts on his thigh, moving him incrementally but it hits Izuku exactly where he wants, makes him toss his head back and cry out.

They're close, he can tell. The bursts along his skin start to lessen as Bakugo focuses on chasing his orgasm, holding tight to Izuku's hips. He wraps a hand around himself, quick and panting.

One more kiss zips energy through them and it's enough to send Izuku over the edge, clenching hard as he paints their stomachs.

Just barely, the edge of overstimulation touches him before Bakugo stops, riding out his high inside Izuku. They stay like that for many minutes, skin slowly becoming cooler and the buzz in the air dissipating.

With their chests pressed together, Izuku can feel their heartbeats.

Tonight, he'll sleep easy.