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Bakugo grabs Izuku’s hips and changes the angle, going straight for the target he has been hitting all night. Izuku huffs a high-pitched moan and lets his head fall forward on the pillow, his knuckles completely whitened from how tightly he’s clutching the sheets. They haven’t stopped fucking for a second since they got home, and Bakugo has lost count of how many times they have already come in the last few hours, but neither of them seems to have had enough.
When Izuku had told him that he was coming home from New York for a handful of days, and the former Class 1-A had unanimously decided to meet up for a night out, Bakugo had vowed not to touch him until they’d be alone. He had kept his oath. He watched Izuku hug each one of his friends and once his turn came he pulled back with an annoyed grimace, muttering something like “no need to hug me, shitty Deku, I know you missed me”.
Izuku gave a wide, heartfelt smile and let it slide; once dinner was over, Bakugo offered to take him home – he didn’t believe for a moment that his offer didn’t look suspicious in the eyes of others, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care at all. He and Izuku walked together, both careful to put a certain distance between them even if it seemed ridiculous. They exchanged a few words between stiff politeness and the concealed impatience of being shielded from prying eyes.
They changed their direction without even deciding it out loud first, and Bakugo could feel his heartbeat quicken as they approached his house. He had just closed the door behind them when Izuku, the bastard, literally jumped on him, caging him against the wall with his body and kissing him fiercely, his hands cupping his face before traveling up to his hair, running his fingers through it; Bakugo responded right away: he fought for dominance, increasing the intensity of their kiss as he started carissing Izuku’s back from above his shirt, then his chest and stomach and finally grabbed two handfuls of his butt and squeezed it just because he – finally – could, making him gasp against his mouth. It’s always the same ritual. A way of showing how much they missed each other. And it’s like breathing again. It’s like being whole.
And that voice, oh, that voice is the glue that puts all the pieces back together.
“Kacchan” Izuku sighed once he broke away from him, immediately burying his nose in Bakugo’s neck as if he wanted to breathe it in.
Bakugo wonders if Izuku ever calls Todoroki’s name that way when he’s with him. He hates it when certain thoughts sneak into his mind, especially at times like these, but he can’t help it. And now, as he thrusts inside his childhood best friend, he realizes how lucky he is that Todoroki didn’t come home with Izuku.
“It’s not like he was that impatient to see his father again” Izuku had explained to the others when asked where his boyfriend was. “You know what kind of relationship they have. He says hello, though; he misses you all”
Then Izuku’s broken voice tears him away from his thoughts.
“Kacchan... Fuck— Kacchan, oh—”
Bakugo could slap himself in the face for getting distracted and wasting time he could have spent admiring what’s before his eyes, something he has waited and craved and longed for for weeks. He bends down to whisper straight into his ear.
“Speak up, baby” He laps at Izuku’s ear, sucks the lobe and nibbles on it, never slowing his thrusts and certainly not helping Izuku formulate his request. “What do you want?”
“Harder” Izuku pants.
“What was that?”
Izuku’s clearly not in the mood to play at his little games, and he shows it by moving his pelvis backwards to push Bakugo deeper, his voice now reduced to an incessant moan from which one can barely make out any words.
“Kacchan fuck me harder please please plea—”
Maybe it’s because they’ve never been this far from each other before – and never for this long – but what the hell, Bakugo just doesn’t feel like making him beg any further. He pulls out quickly eliciting a moan of protest from him, he spins him around as if he were an inanimate object and enters again with a smooth motion, facilitated by the hours and hours spent fucking on every surface they could find.
Izuku throws his head back, his eyes rolled back and his mouth open in a long, silent moan as he surrenders to Bakugo’s thrusts, which struggles to keep his eyes open to not miss a single reaction, so he can keep them to himself and make do with them until Izuku is back for good. They haven’t seen each other for three months and Bakugo wonders if he will be endure this for two more. Having Izuku like this now is both a relief and a catastrophe at the same time.
He grabs his legs from under his knees and lifts them up, almost bending him almost in half and reveling in the sounds he makes, because they’re used to doing this in silence, hidden from everything and everyone, and it’s so rare to be able to let go. He sinks into him like his life depends on it, pounding and slamming against his prostate until he sees stars, basking in the feeling of that sweet ass clenching around him and sucking him in in until he comes with a hiss that ends in a hoarse grunt.
Izuku curls his toes, arches his back and shuts his eyes tight with a long moans, painting their bellies white. Then, without giving him the time to catch his breath, he leans toward him expectantly: he wants a kiss, and Bakugo will never cease to indulge him as a swarm of butterflies hovers in his stomach, as if he were a 15-year-old brat on his first fuck. They’re both sweaty as hell, so his skin slides against Izuku’s, and he’s so fucking soft and hot and unreal and his, all his. He kisses him for a long time and Bakugo lets him, surrounding his tongue with his and then tracing the contours of his mouth, as if to make sure everything’s exactly as he remembered it. It doesn’t take long before his penis starts reacting again. If he thought he had not a single drop left to expel froom his body, he was wrong. And Izuku must feel it, because he moans into his mouth and cants his hips as if to tell him to move, his own cock twitching between them.
“Again” he gasps.
That simple word, so lewd and unbelievably innocent at the same time – the nerd must be the only person in the world in which those two adjectives manage to coexist without clashing, and that’s just one of the many things that make Bakugo crazy about him –, is enough to make him lose his mind.
“Fuck” murmurs Bakugo.
He sits down on the bed and Izuku follows him and sits on his lap, trusting and obedient; then he lowers himself onto his erection and it’s all the way in and, without giving himself time to adjust to being filled again, he moves up until only the tip’s resting inside him, and then sinks down again. He starts a rough pace immediately, going a up-and-down on his shaft and groaning loudly at each movement. Their first times have been a revelation: Bakugo never imagined he’d get to see Izuku like this. He’s completely above his dirtiest fantasies, loud and responsive, insatiable and sensitive. He’s more than he ever hoped for and certainly more than he deserves. He’s just about to bite his throat, caught up in emotion, but he barely has the time to scrape his milky skin with his teeth before Izuku moves his head back.
“You can’t”
He always says this when Bakugo tries to bite or scratch him, with the usual detatched, oblivious tone of someone who would remind him of a work appointment for the next day. He doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t look at him. He just goes back to focusing on his pleasure regardless of Bakugo’s gaze, heedless to what those words have caused him.
And Bakugo hates this. It’s the only thing he hates about sex with Izuku: he can never afford to leave marks on him. He can never go any further. It makes him feel bound, and Bakugo doesn’t work like that. He does what he wants without exception. Well... Until Izuku.
He tilts his torso back slightly, so Izuku clutches his shoulders and keeps riding him with uneven movements, leaning forward to collect the sweat on Bakugo’s throat with the tip of his tongue. Bakugo feels another orgasm approaching from Izuku when the latter wraps his legs behind him and whines out a trail of “ah ah ah”s, breathy and hot as hell, and Bakugo can’t take it anymore: he grabs him by the thighs and pushes him down forward and fucks, fucks, fucks into him, chasing the pleasure that builds up in his lower belly like a heat bubble ready to burst.
Until finally it does.
They should have used a condom like they always do: they’re drenched with cum and sweat, the sheets are a mess and Bakugo grimaces at the possibility that the stains may have penetrated all the way to the mattress... But when they started grinding against each other and Bakugo asked how long he hadn’t been fucking, Izuku had whined out a “Two months” so desperate and hot that the thought of wearing one didn’t even cross his mind.
Bakugo takes one last deep breath.
“We need to take a shower” he slurs. “You go first”
“Come with me?”
“I gotta change the sheets”
“I’ll help you”
Before Bakugo has time to protest, Izuku’s already getting up. After the task, they take their time in the shower, snuggled tightly together, tongues chasing each other and hands gliding over their bodies under hot water. As far as he’s concerned, Bakugo would stay that way until morning, but he only needs to give his friend a fleeting glance to realize that he’s this close to falling asleep on his feet. So he wastes no time and soaps them both quickly.
As soon as they reach the bed Izuku has already rolled over and pressed himself against Bakugo from head to toe, like he always does, throwing one leg over his and rubbing his cheek against his shoulder as if searching for the best position. He sighs contentedly as Bakugo surrounds him with his arms.
“So?” he asks in a sleepy voice. “What have you been doing?”
“Weren’t you jetlagged?”
Izuku chuckles against his skin, and Bakugo tries to carve that feeling in his memory as he stares dully at the ceiling.
“I am, but you barely talked during dinner” Izuku points out.
“Well, ‘cause you did. Those extras wouldn’t stop asking you questions. But I get it. You’re a star now”
“They did some talking, though” Izuku pauses for a few seconds, before muttering. “I can’t believe Denki and Jirou are getting married”
“I can’t believe that she was the one who proposed”
“Touché” Izuku concedes, although a certain amount of pride and affection shines through her tone. “Let’s go. Aren’t you going to tell me anything?”
Bakugo thinks it over as he strokes Izuku's green locks with his free hand in soporific, repetitive motions, bringing them backward each time they fall softly onto his forehead.
“There’s nothing to say” he answers. “I’ve been working”
“America adores you, you know. Whenever something happens here and the local TV talks about it you’re always in the forefront”
“Of fucking course I am” retorts Bakugo smugly. “If the symbol of peace leaves me the spotlight I have every right to take advantage of it. In fact, why don’t you stay there a little longer?”
Izuku pinches his side. “Idiot”
Bakugo holds back a chuckle and places a kiss on his hair.
“I’ve kept myself as busy as I could. That’s all”
“Did you miss me?”
“What kind of a fucking question is this?”
He turns to him immediately after saying that, a part of him afraid that he has offended him, but judging by the way Izuku returns his gaze, that’s not the case at all. Sometimes he forgets that he’s Izuku, the only one who can read behind his dismissive and aggressive tone. He has nothing to fear, with him, and he surely doesn’t need to pretend to be romantic or any other bullshit. He’s just teasing him, and Bakugo’s fine with that. It’s just one of the many secret languages between them. But suddenly he feels a knot in his stomach. And not because he’s thinking back to all the months he’s spent without him, but because he’s thinking of those still waiting ahead.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he says finally.
Izuku smiles softly – one of those smiles he gives when Bakugo gives him the upper hand, eyes that despite the dark circles almost seem to glow, above that carpet of freckles.
“I missed you, too” says Izuku, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek.
Bakugo rubs his nose against his palm. As much as he believes him, he just can’t manage to free himself from the raw, ruthless belief that Izuku misses him differently than Bakugo misses him. Not less, but different. He may miss him – Bakugo knows this for a fact: he can tell by the way Izuku talks about him like a hopeless fanboy during interviews about Japan’s security, or by the way he keeps sending him expensive souvenirs from America, collectible stuff that only a nerd like him can find; he fucking called him in the middle of the night just to hear his voice, jerked off with him and broke down in tears while he confessed how much he misses him –, but that doesn’t stop him from enjoying what he already has, despite an underlying bitterness.
And Bakugo’s happy for him, really. He always will be. But he can’t say the same thing about himself: there’s no bitterness in him, but dissatisfaction. They’re both fulfilling their dreams as they set out to do, and they have yet to reach the peak of success. They can only imagine how crazy and chaotic things will become in the next handful of years. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Bakugo can’t fully enjoy it. He literally has everything he’s ever dreamed of and struggled to have since he was four, but something’s missing. He’s missing a piece. That’s the difference between him and Izuku.
It’s like an intrusive thought that becomes harder and harder to banish over time, and what’s worse is that distance isn’t the one to blame: in a month and a half Izuku will be back for good, but things won’t change. He will still be with Todoroki. And who knows, maybe after Jirou and Kaminari they’ll be next. Just thinking about it makes Bakugo want to blow something up, but he knows he can’t do anything about it. Despite everything, he doesn’t want to ruin their relationship. Todoroki’s not the right person for Izuku, nor does he make him as happy as he would, but the fact is... Todoroki came first. He built a healthy relationship with Izuku – one based on respect, trust and friendship, moving on to admiration and then love.
All while Bakugo was busy bullying, belittling and keeping him at a distance. He rejected all his attempts to approach him for years. And the more he began to become aware of his feelings for Izuku, the more he mistreated him – whether it was out of pride or fear, he’s still wondering. It took fucking Shigaraki for Bakugo to finally grow some balls, act like the hero he always prided himself on being and take what he wanted. Well... Almost. He didn’t really take it, because it was already too late.
He should have done something earlier. If he had, Izuku would be his now. And he wouldn’t feel like a missing limb was sending twinges of pain with every step. But as he always does when he comes to that conclusion, he decides to shut those thoughts out of his head.
“Shut up and sleep now” he says.
Izuku squeezes him back and yawns.
“’Night, Kacchan”
Izuku sleeps for almost twelve hours. Bakugo lets him – partly out of pity, but mostly because he missed this terribly – until at some point his selfish side takes over: he starts leaving a trail of kisses all over his body, eventually focusing on his neck because he knows that spot tickles him. Izuku starts giggling within minutes.
He’s so fucking cute. How the fuck is he always so cute?
Bakugo finds himself seriously contemplating kidnapping him and keeping him there with him forever. Izuku turns around to stare at him with one eye, pretending to be annoyed before nuzzling the hollow of his throat.
“What time is it?” he mumbles.
“Almost one”
“Shit” Izuku suddenly pulls away from him with an alarmed look. “My mother—”
“I took care of it” says Bakugo, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I called her to say that you came over after dinner with the others and collapsed on my couch. Basically, the truth. More or less”
He gets out of bed and makes his way to the door, casting a glance over his shoulder. “Get the hell up, I made us breakf—”
He stops when he finds a still naked Izuku intent on lifting the clothes they unceremoniously threw on the floor the night before, then letting them fall back as if they no longer interest him.
“What are you looking for?”
“My phone... Fuck, fuck, fuck”
Bakugo’s heart sinks, but he pulls himself together right away. “You kept it in your jacket yesterday”
He leaves the room without looking back.
He stands with his hands resting on the kitchen sink, his gaze fixed on the table as he tries to keep out Izuku’s voice while he’s on the phone with Todoroki, feeding him an excuse that, judging by the handful of words coming to him, has something to do with a superhero movie marathon. He’s still staring at the eggs as he hears Izuku hurry back to his room, hastily put on his clothes and join him in the kitchen.
“You’re not eating?” asks Bakugo, though he already knows the answer.
Izuku shakes his head with a half-smile. “I’d better go. I’m leaving tomorrow and I’ve already lost half a day sleeping while I could’ve been with mom”
Bakugo swallows the disappointment and tightens his lips. Oh well, it’s what he deserves. He has repeated this to himself plenty. He’s done nothing but hurt him, and now it’s his turn. Not that Izuku is doing all this on purpose – he’s too pure and innocent to come up with such a plan and put it into action. He just chose to be loved. And Todoroki loves him. And he can do nothing but stand by and watch.
He walks him to the door and stops in the middle of the hallway.
Izuku turns to him. “So, uh... See you”
“Uh-uh”
“It’s just six more weeks”
“I’m not gonna fucking cry”
Izuku forces himself to smile, but what comes out is not a good result; he lowers his gaze like a damn fawn that just lost its mother and heads for the door. He barely has time to take two steps before an inexplicable, almost desperate anguish overwhelms Bakugo. He calls out to him without even realizing it.
“Izuku”
Izuku turns to look at him with expectancy and...
Hope?
“Yes, Kacchan?”
Only now, as he stares into those emerald eyes, does Bakugo realizes that there are tears in his. He tells himself not to let out a single tear and to have some fucking dignity – he’s a hero, goddammit – but there’s no need: he has no way to get away from Izuku. He has been trying to leave him behind in every way, all his life. But Izuku always caught up with him. There’s no point in trying to hide from him. He doesn’t want to. Not anymore.
And Izuku sees him: he sees the tears he’s holding back and behind them he sees everything that has been troubling him and his fears, his regrets, his anger. He sees everything, and that’s the exact moment when a shadow of guilt falls across his face, slow and relentless.
Without waiting any further he walks back to Bakugo, takes his face in his hands and traps his lips in a soft kiss that Bakugo welcomes with a sigh; it goes on for a while, with Izuku moving his hands through his friend’s blond messy hair, disheveling it even more. He strokes Bakugo’s tongue with his and then moves it greedily into his mouth as if to mark territory one last time.
He pulls away first, stopping to catch his breath a few inches from his mouth; Bakugo tightens his grip on his hips in a pathetic attempt to keep him still.
Don’t fucking leave. Please don’t. Stay here. With me. I fucking love you.
“I have to go”
Bakugo stubbornly keeps his eyes closed until he hears the door. When he opens them, he’s alone.