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“We should try something new.”
Denki poked at Hitoshi’s cheek to punctuate his sentence.
Hitoshi glanced up from the papers he had been grading, or at least attempting to grade, and frowned over his glasses.
“Define something and new in this context.”
Denki considers himself smooth. Suave, if you will.
He reminds himself that at the very least, in the presence of his socially awkward (emotionally anxious) partner he automatically gets to be the smooth one.
So he shuffles a little closer, places one hand on Hitoshi’s upper thigh, and caresses the pads of his fingers into the fabric of his jeans and the soft flesh beneath them.
He bites his bottom lip, trying to be seductive, and clearly Hitoshi gets the message because he is shoving his laptop onto the coffee table. Papers scatter the floor. His students can wait. If those grades were important, they’d be done by now. Hitoshi wiggles around and changes his position from sitting to laying out on the couch, spreading his legs apart to let Denki crawl on top.
Despite relying on words when it came to work (both the hero and teaching kind), Hitoshi is pretty quiet. He is a man of few words, and once accustomed to it, Denki wouldn’t have it any other way.
Denki spent months learning his silent language and considers himself as close to fluent as you can be.
Easy translation for beginners: when your switchiest switch of a partner wraps their thighs around your hips to pull you in for a kiss, they’re probably hoping that you plan on topping tonight.
“Eager, are we?” Denki purrs against his clavicle, licking and nibbling his way up to Hitoshi’s earlobe. He misses Hitoshi’s earrings, tracing two of the remaining marks with his tongue. If he had figured sooner that teaching future heroes would involve removing most of the punk-ish attire, Denki might have argued a bit. That’s a lie, he never would argue. But he would mourn the piercings regardless.
“What happened to you being busy?”
“What happened to ‘something new’?”
Lightbulb.
“Oh!” Denki sat upright. “I had an idea.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Shut up. Unless you like danger…”
Hitoshi snorts and folds his arms behind his head, looking up at Denki with a lopsided smile.
“Okay. So.” Denki begins. “I saw this article about quirkplay in the bedroom and-”
“No.” Hitoshi’s eyes immediately narrow.
“Let me finish!” Denki sighs, but doesn’t deflate. “You can tell me what to do and-”
Hitoshi winces and pushes Denki back a little.
“I am absolutely not comfortable using my quirk on you, in any given situation. And I am extra uncomfortable at using it during sex.”
“Are you actually considering it, or are you just shutting me down?”
“I’m considering how fucking gross I would feel fucking brainwashing you.”
Denki shuffles back, crossing his legs and letting Hitoshi pull his legs up to his chest.
“... I like that my quirk doesn’t scare you.” He eventually says. “But I don’t like … I don’t feel … I don’t want to do that.”
“Okay.” Denki pats his knee. “It was just an idea.”
“... For the record, I prefer it when you’re the bossy one telling me what to do anyway so I’m … even less interested …”
“Noted.” Denki smirks.
The mood wasn’t exactly soured, per se, but it was awkward.
Denki didn’t expect anything to happen that night, but getting out of the shower to find Hitoshi sitting on the bed in his underwear gave a different impression.
“You … wanted to try something new?” He offers sheepishly.
“Changed your mind?” Denki flicks his hair out of the way.
“No, not that but … you said quirk play and I thought about … you know those massages you give me sometimes?”
Lightbulb.
“Oh.” Denki smirks.
“The ones where … you use your quirk and it ... tingles and …”
“Relaxes your muscles…”
“Yea. That.” Hitoshi offers up his lopsided smile again and Denki pounces.
“How about we start with one of those massages, then? Gives me an excuse to put my hands all over you … then we can see where we go? Traffic lights?”
“Green, green, wholly shit.” Hitoshi quickly pushes their lips together, their noses awkwardly bumping and making Denki giggle.
They get lost in the kiss for moments or minutes.
Time is a social construct.
When Denki finally pulls back, just enough to catch his breath, he throws the towel he had been wearing over to whatever corner of the room it landed in and maneuvers Hitoshi to lay down on his stomach, hands lingering to rub his shoulders soothingly.
“Relax a bit.” He trailed his fingers down Hitoshi’s spine, before kneading into the muscle of his upper back and let a tingle of electricity run through his hands.
The trick to Denki’s quirk is that he can generate electricity, and by controlling the volts and wattage and whatever other jargon, it can come in handy for more than just combat.
Hitoshi has always been stiff. Denki wonders if he has always been like that, or if it was something learned as he grew up and tried to shut the world out. He carries all the tension in his upper body, so upon discovering the many different ways he can use his quirk in practical ways, Denki had been quick to try and relieve that tension.
“I admit, I didn’t consider this when I thought about quirkplay…” Denki squeezes his shoulders and Hitoshi hums.
“But now I’m thinking of other ways to use this.” He slides his hands lower, back up again, then even lower until he gets to squeeze “damn, my man got a cute butt.” He pinches and Hitoshi wiggles and laughs softly.
“Idea.” He starts.
“Dangerous.” Hitoshi replies dryly.
Denki ignores him.
“Let me finger you.”
“Okay.”
“Prostate massage, but like, a little electric stimulation-”
“I said yes.”
“And I love that you trust me, because bold move buddy I don’t even trust myself most of the time ... but I still wanna talk you through everything. No surprises.”
“Thanks.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. So how do you wanna do this?”
Hitoshi ditches the underwear while Denki rummages around (second drawer down) for one of the little bottles of lube. They fiddle around with positions, Hitoshi winding up with a pillow under his hips while Denki leans over him on one side. He pops the cap (a satisfying sound) with one hand while the other ghosts around Hitoshi’s inner thigh.
Denki could list the things he adores about Hitoshi and talk forever. Like how Hitoshi blushes, closes his eyes instead of looking away, and the soft ohs and gasps he makes. Denki silences him with a kiss as his hand creeps closer and closer, teasing until he is just about there and lifts his hand away suddenly.
He watches (and enjoys the sight of) Hitoshi palming his cock, hips bucking up to the touch ever so slightly, as he squirts lube and rubs his fingers with a copious amount until they’re shiny and slick.
It doesn’t take much to swat Hitoshi’s hand away, and he fists the sheets beneath them as Denki traces around his hole, keeping the touches light before pressing in with one finger. Denki adds more lube, presses that one finger in again and leans in for another kiss. It’s a welcome distraction until Hitoshi relaxes, and a second finger slips in.
He scissors his fingers a bit before murmuring against Hitoshi’s lips that he would start using his quirk, and the gasp and moan that shudders out from Hitoshi’s chest and past his lips goes straight to Denki’s dick.
"Damn, who would have thought that all of Aizawa's quirk training for putting out a steady current would accumulate into me giving his son a prostate massage on a super low voltage."
Hitoshi wants to criticise how Denki manages to come up with so many words in the middle of such an intimate situation but instead opts for:
"For the love of god, Denki, don't talk about my dad when you have two fingers inside me."
"Hey, just saying. I've practised on plenty of car batteries."
"I'm not a battery."
"You may not be a battery, but you definitely give me life."
"That's gay, and I'm still not a battery."
Denki opts to silence him with a kiss, and relishes the way Hitoshi moans directly into his mouth as he curls his fingers against his prostate.
The kiss breaks as Hitoshi stutters; gasping, moaning, rocking back against Denki’s hand. His head tilts back, just enough for Denki to take a bite of his neck again, feeling his throat vibrate as his hips buckle a little more.
Denki elects to keep the tingle of electricity barely above a tickle, focusing on massaging his fingers just right as Hitoshi gets progressively louder. Almost there.
“Don’t touch yourself.” He whispers.
“I.” He kisses the dip of Hitoshi’s throat. “Want.” A kiss on the collar. “You.” A kiss on the jaw. “To.” A kiss below his earlobe. “Come.” A kiss on the lips. “Just from my fingers.” Another, firmer, longer kiss on the lips. “Then I’m gonna fuck you. Okay?”
Hitoshi gasps out a strangled yes before their lips collide again, harsh and wet and Denki presses his fingers a little harder so he shakes.
Denki imagines Hitoshi’s toes curling, feeling his legs shake beside him, and slowly eases off the gentle current as he lets Hitoshi ride the orgasm out against his fingers.
His breathing is jittery, body all melty and wobbly beneath Denki and he loves it.
He leans back on his knees between Hitoshi’s still-spread legs, enjoying the view as he rolls the condom down.
Hitoshi hasn’t caught his breath yet when Denki lines up, one hand gripping Hitoshi’s hip nice and firm, and pushes in. He takes it slow, groaning under his breath and biting his lip until he bottoms out and pulls Hitoshi’s thighs up and against his body while slowly, slowly circling and grinding his pelvis. The noises Hitoshi keeps making are so, so sweet.
The sheets are a mess. Baby blue fabric is crumpled and bunched up around Hitoshi’s clenched fists, and Denki can now observe how white his knuckles are.
“Getting hard again already?” He wants to tease but the breathy moan of his voice gives him away before the words can begin to fall out of his mouth.
If Hitoshi had any wits about him left, he would have nodded or verbally agreed. Denki accepts his gasp as a yes as he slowly moves, pulling out and grinding back in at a leisurely pace.
“You’re so hot and tight.” He sighs, leaning in so Hitoshi’s thighs are at his chest and squeezing at his hips, temporarily considering if he could leave fingerprint bruises before cupping his balls. He forgets to ask permission before letting another shiver of electricity dance around his fingers, but the (louder) stifle of breathy moans tells him it wasn’t a bad idea.
Denki has a few things that never fail to get him off. Most of those things are very specific to Hitoshi. The way his lips part, mouth hanging open just a bit, eyes closed, and face full of bliss … It's an image that Denki wants to burn into his brain. He picks up the pace to pry some more of those candy-coated moans out of that beautiful mouth of his.
Skin on skin, almost wet slapping. Gasps. Cries. He fights the urge to roll his eyes back, blinking a bit as he gets close, so he can keep his eyes on his Toshi.
It’s a bit much for him to think about at once but Denki manages to put his primary focus on his quirk as he lets the tingling sensation out of his hand once again while he jerks Hitoshi off, edging him into his second climax of the night before returning to grip his hips and letting himself spill into the condom.
His hips rock slower, harder, riding out that orgasm and feeling the waves wash over him until he collapses on top of Hitoshi to seal the deed with a sloppy kiss. His eyes fall closed, and he relaxes into the moment.
Time is a social construct. But Denki assumes they’ve been laying, wrapped in one another, for more than a while. He murmurs something about running them a bath against Hitoshi’s lips before carefully pulling out, tying the condom off, and pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh.
Hitoshi is basically asleep while he runs the water, sprinkling in some epsom salts before helping him out of bed. The one thing Hitoshi had been oddly stern about while they furnished their first apartment was having a bath that could fit both of them. Being two six foot (Denki slightly under, Hitoshi slightly over) and (reasonably) well-built men, this was a bit more effort than expected. But moments like this make it worth it; Hitoshi’s back to Denki’s chest, head on his shoulder as Denki runs a damp cloth over his body.
When he thinks about it, Denki loves the post-coital cuddles and aftercare just as much as the intimate moments which lead to it. He wraps both arms tightly around Hitoshi’s chest, giving a comforting squeeze while pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, nuzzling his hair and sighing. A soft smile graces his lips as he relaxes into the water, moonlight illuminating the tub and Hitoshi’s silent breaths teasing his skin.
“I still need to grade those papers.” Hitoshi murmurs.
“That’s tomorrow’s problem.” Denki replies.