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Yagi refused to let the other man’s hand go, even as Aizawa leaned against the wall in attempts to sleep. Aizawa had tried to bring his sleeping bag on the trip with them but Yagi firmly reminded that he wouldn’t need it. Now, the dark-haired man wished he had it. Planes were uncomfortable and cold, and this flight was going to be a long one.
Yagi tried to get comfortable, his long legs cramped in the small space. Even though they sprang for business class seats to accommodate his height (and it was their honeymoon, so they figured, why not splurge a little?), Yagi still had a hard time. He had to move his legs out of the aisle every time someone needed past him. At first the flight attendant seemed like she was going to chastise him for spreading into the aisle, but maybe she saw how tall he was or maybe she recognized him from the footage from Kamino. Now she just smiled gently and turned a blind eye.
They were tired. The stress of the wedding finally lifted, it was as if they could breath again without remembering some other detail that needed attending to (the constant stress even caused Yagi to start coughing up blood again, something he hadn’t done in a while, and Aizawa had sidelined him for the more strenuous parts of the preparations). Neither of them wanted a grand affair—just their friends gathered in a small church, and even that was more Yagi’s idea than Aizawa’s. No media attention, no announcement to the public at large. Midoriya cried, but then, Yagi was surprised he didn’t shed any tears himself. There were a couple moments he thought he would: when Aizawa stood in front of him, chin up and proud, hair tied back, and he was absolutely breath-taking. The rest of the world seemed to disintegrate around them. Yagi wanted to worship him as they stood but in that glorious moment he could hardly draw enough breath to stay alive, let alone sing praises. For once, he couldn’t breath not because of his body, but because he was dumbfounded.
And now they were married, on their first trip together as a married couple. Yagi sincerely believed he would never get to this point; either because being a celebrity hero made it hard to form actual romantic attachments, or because he’d be dead by now. He brought Aizawa’s hand up and kissed his knuckles. He felt so lucky to have him. Aizawa, eyes still closed and otherwise not acknowledging Yagi’s tender movements, blushed too lightly for anyone who wasn’t Yagi to notice.
By later in the flight, both men felt like they were going stir crazy. Yagi took it as well as he could, excusing himself to stand in the aisles and stretch his legs when possible. Aizawa was used to confining himself in small spaces, but even to him, thirteen hours was pushing it. He almost thought that taking a flight with a layover would have been preferable, because at least then the sitting would be broken up into segments. His answer was to sleep most of the flight. He was good at that.
A few of the flight crew and passengers stopped to take pictures with Yagi and to thank him for everything he had done. When these people approached, Aizawa, awoken but feigning sleep, would watch his husband through half-closed lids, filled with pride.
Eventually Yagi slept. He tossed and turned until Aizawa lifted the partition between them and shuffled him over to lean against him. When Yagi’s blanket began to slide off his shoulders, Aizawa corrected it and closed his eyes again.
When they finally arrived, Aizawa allowed Yagi to lead. He had been to JFK Airport several times before. He took Aizawa’s hand and led him to immigration. Yagi blushed as he received a salute for his heroics, but the attention was worth it if it got them through a priority line. They found the baggage claim, grabbed their luggage, and headed to the taxi stand.
They hailed a cab and headed to the hotel. They slid into the back seat, Yagi’s backpack with their passports and other important things in his lap. As Aizawa watched the buildings grow taller and taller, he felt energized. He’d never left Japan. He was on his honeymoon. While Yagi had his own reasons for assuming he’d remain single his entire life, Aizawa assumed it would happen just because of who he was as a person. He was too surly, too direct for most people to tolerate. But then Yagi crashed into his life, larger than life and brilliant. He got under Aizawa’s skin and broke through his barriers as a humble, quiet man too good for his own fate. Aizawa couldn’t help but want to lift him up and show him his worth.
He was married. They were married. Holy shit.
His energy manifested as impatient fingers tapping on his leg. It became a tapping of his foot. Yagi took his hand with a grin and Aizawa grabbed his bony knee through his jeans.
Yagi looked a little too at ease. Aizawa smirked. Slowly, subtly, he ran his fingers up the inseam of Yagi’s thigh. He could think of a great way to expend some energy. Yagi jumped as his fingers, hidden by the bag, reached his balls and pressed lightly. Aizawa’s face showed no indication as he gazed out the window, seeming entranced by the city. Yagi’s face reddened as he pressed down on the bag in attempts to stop Aizawa.
The sly look in Aizawa’s eyes when he briefly made eye contact told Yagi that he knew precisely what he was doing to the older man, and that he dared Yagi to stop him. A heat curled comfortably in his gut.
They reached their hotel and Yagi made sure to keep his bag positioned in front of him until he could adjust without notice. He tipped and thanked the driver as Aizawa unloaded their luggage from the trunk. While Yagi checked them in, Aizawa leaned against the counter and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, pulling at it as if it made him uncomfortable. Yagi’s eyes lingered over his exposed collarbone, lean hips, and long legs. Aizawa continued to tease him by shifting his posture frequently: straightening his leg, fiddling with his collar, tucking his hair behind his ear to reveal his long neck; he played Yagi like an instrument, attracting his attention to whichever body part he liked. Obviously distracted, Yagi finished his transaction with the desk clerk.
“Thank you so much.” He had to remind himself not to bow. His face felt hot.
The tension between them was palpable as they rode the elevator upwards. The look in Aizawa’s eyes as he stared from across the elevator dared him to fuck him there. His legs, clad in tight jeans that advertised muscular thighs and calves, were slightly parted and Yagi sorely wished to kneel between him and suck the smirk off his face. He followed the other man to their room, trailing his suitcase behind him. Aizawa slipped the card key into the lock and pushed the door open. He gave one smoldering look before entering the dark room. Yagi followed him inside and shut the door behind him as Aizawa flicked on the light.
Yagi didn’t care how the room looked. He let his suitcase clatter to the floor as he reached for Aizawa, grabbed him, and kissed him hungrily. Yagi dominated the kiss, pulling Aizawa closer by the base of his skull, fingers tangled tight and pulling in his long, black hair. He surged forward, crowding the shorter man until Aizawa’s back hit the wall, leg pressed uncomfortably against a low table. Pain ignored in his fervor, Aizawa’s own hands clenched in Yagi’s shirttails, pulling his hips closer. Their teeth clacked together ferociously as Aizawa lifted his cramped leg and Yagi took the movement to his advantage. He hiked Aizawa’s leg around his waist and pushed his thigh in the opened space, forcing Aizawa to straddle it.
Aizawa was suffocated against the wall, only the toes of one foot on the ground—their shoes weren’t even off yet—and he couldn’t be harder. Yagi’s answering erection prodded through the straining fabric of his pants and Aizawa wanted to get a hand between them to release their cocks, to stroke them together in delicious friction, but Yagi seemed intent on ravaging him there, in the entryway.
Yagi ended the kiss with a bite to Aizawa’s lip just the right side of painful, but if Aizawa thought the assault was over, he was proven wrong as Yagi bit at his neck. Yagi could feel Aizawa’s blood pounding under his teeth. His jaw tightened and when Aizawa held his breath, he paused, just feeling the power of the moment. Not that Aizawa was helpless in any way, but the willing exchange of power thrilled them both in the heat of the moment.
“I want you, Toshinori,” Aizawa said as easily as a breath. Yagi could feel the vibrations of his throat under his lips. Aizawa’s heart raced frantically. Yagi would wipe the nonchalance off his face before they were finished that night.
Yagi still had enough strength to pick Aizawa up. Grabbing the roundness of Aizawa’s ass, he lifted until both the other man’s legs wrapped around his waist. Aizawa clung to him, his body tense from leaving the ground. He trusted Yagi not to drop him, though.
When Yagi dropped him unceremoniously on the bed, Aizawa’s hair fanned across the sheets, framing his face like a dark halo. His impish grin was a challenge and Yagi felt the blood coursing through his broken body. His cock twitched, and he palmed it through his pants.
When Aizawa reached down to unzip his own pants, Yagi pinned his wrists to the bed. Aizawa was his. The possessiveness with which Yagi looked at his husband worried him. Aizawa didn’t belong to anyone. He was fierce and sharp, his own complete person independent of Yagi himself. But in that moment, Yagi felt an oppressive urge to claim Aizawa, to bring him to his breaking point, and to pick up the pieces after.
Aizawa was wearing that lovely dark blue button-up shirt that Yagi thought made him look fantastic. Yagi clasped the fabric and pulled, ripping the closure apart and sending buttons flying. Aizawa didn’t even seem to notice, his eyes only on Yagi’s face. His arms stayed where Yagi had placed them.
Yagi bit his collarbone, that skin with which Aizawa had teased him only minutes before. Aizawa gasped quietly as he lifted his head to see the reddened mark left behind. Trailing intermittent kisses and nips, Yagi teased Aizawa’s nipples with sucks and teeth. Aizawa’s hands clutched at the bedspread. His hips moved in search of friction.
When he reached Aizawa’s bellybutton and the trail of hair leading down, Yagi paused. Aizawa huffed at the sudden lack of stimulation, but even now he recognized that they were far too dressed to continue. He lifted onto his elbows to sit up, but Yagi pushed him back onto the bed. His pupils drowned out the blue irises in lust and Aizawa’s breath caught. He acquiesced, allowing Yagi to undress him.
Yagi carefully pulled off Aizawa’s shoes and socks before given each foot a short massage. Aizawa tried to contain a moan at this different sort of innocent pleasure as Yagi kneaded the tendons of his arches. His toes flexed and Yagi chuckled.
The look in his eyes was still dark, though, as he unbuttoned Aizawa’s jeans and slid them off. The tip of Aizawa’s cock peeked out of the waist of his boxer briefs. Yagi rid him of those as well and Aizawa lay before him, completely exposed for his eyes to take in. Every birthmark, every scar was bared for him. He ran his fingers from clavicle to hip. His Aizawa was beautiful with every blemish.
Yagi caught his eyes and held them as he lowered his head. His breath blew against Aizawa’s cock. Yagi licked lightly down the shaft before returning with a slow, curling drag of his tongue. Aizawa’s breath hitched as Yagi took his erection in hand and pumped. Yagi took the head of his cock in his mouth and sucked hard. Aizawa’s head fell back with a groan.
Glancing up to see Aizawa’s reaction, Yagi let more of the shaft slip between his lips in tentative bobs that increased in depth. He held Aizawa’s balls in his hand. He took a deep breath and slid his mouth down until the head entered his throat and his nose bumped Aizawa’s abdomen. He held himself there, unable to breathe and elated with the long, strangled noise Aizawa made.
He pulled off and wheezed. Aizawa’s cock fell heavily against his stomach. The younger man was covering his face with his arms, chest heaving.
“Don’t stop, Toshi, please don’t stop,” he pleaded.
Yagi wasn’t finished if he was still coherent enough for words. He shifted to grip the back of Aizawa’s thighs and pushed up and over, until Aizawa’s knees pointed towards his chest. Black eyes stared at him, astonished. The other man’s mouth was open as if he wanted to speak.
Yagi chased the words from his lips by first teasing his perineum with his tongue. He licked at Aizawa’s hole, forced the tip of his tongue against the puckered skin. He found he couldn’t stop staring at Aizawa’s face as his head fell back. A ragged moan filled the room. The other man pulled at his own hair.
Teasing with his index finger, Yagi let the tip hover just touching Aizawa’s entrance. The younger man’s legs opened as wide as he could manage, but Yagi refused to do more than push lightly, not yet entering. An utterance that sounded like a desperate “please” spurred him to sink his finger up to the second knuckle and thrust in a pantomime of what he intended later. He ran his tongue over the skin squeezing his finger. When he pulled his finger out, he replaced it with his tongue, gaining better access with the loosened muscles. He prodded in and out as Yagi feasted on Aizawa’s hole. He repositioned one hand, and then another, and used his thumbs to spread Aizawa’s cheeks wider. He held him there, bent in half, vulnerable, and enacted exquisite torture on Aizawa’s shuddering form.
When he slipped two fingers into Aizawa, entrance slicked by nothing but Yagi’s saliva, he scissored and pushed deeper. Though the angle was different, he knew all the spots to make Aizawa come apart. His searching fingers found the little place inside Aizawa that, when touched, made the other man cry out. A bolt of triumph shot through Yagi like electricity. He continued his attack, adding a third finger when the other man’s body began to slack. The dry coaxing of his fingers caused Aizawa to grab at Yagi’s thighs, nails clawing against his clothes, slipping with the lack of traction.
Yagi grabbed Aizawa’s hands and placed them on his own thighs. The sight of Aizawa holding himself open for him, face red and eyes unfocused, almost made Yagi free himself to wank off right there. Instead, he continued to finger the other man, changing the angle up to tease his lover. His breath ghosted over Aizawa’s sack and his left hand played with the younger man’s shaft. He jerked Aizawa off, fingers clenching tighter as they tugged over the head. The ring on his finger gave the slightest whisper of texture to Aizawa’s sensitive flesh. Yagi’s tongue laved Aizawa’s balls.
The stimulation was too much—they racked at Aizawa’s senses. His hips couldn’t move but that didn’t stop the muscles of his abdomen from twitching in aborted attempts to ride Yagi’s fingers. And Yagi found that perfect angle again to cause just the right amount of painful friction, to find that one spot, and Aizawa came undone. He shouted as he came, shooting ropes of cum onto his own abdomen.
Aizawa trembled through his orgasm. He pressed his calves against Yagi’s shoulders and Yagi helped him lower his legs slowly. He panted, body too lax with his release to move. Yagi checked him over and found, to his satisfaction, that Aizawa looked absolutely wrecked. Intermittent shakes rocked through his lean body. His hair was a bird’s nest. Yagi smirked down at him and Aizawa stared before slowly blinking.
Yagi found Aizawa’s ruined shirt. He’d ripped the fabric itself in his desire. It was a waste. He used it to gently wipe the mess from Aizawa’s chest. Cum had dribbled down and into the comforter. Despite his own desire for release, despite the ferocity that had just overcome his senses, he felt a tenderness as he finished cleaning Aizawa up. Even with the dirty acts he had just committed, Aizawa allowed him to lean over and kiss him. He accepted with a pliant, open mouth as their tongues slid against each other’s lazily. Yagi laced their fingers together and pressed Aizawa’s hands into the bed.
Releasing him, Yagi continued the kiss as he ran a hand through Aizawa’s hair, scratching nails along his scalp. His fingers found the base of Aizawa’s skull and encouraged him closer.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Aizawa wasn’t sure he could find words yet, so he lifted a hand to trail along Yagi’s cheek before tucking a loose lock of yellow hair behind his ear. His expressions were famously hard to read, but he knew Yagi could see the words he wanted to say in them.
He reached downwards to tug at the button of Yagi’s jeans. His lover still hadn’t come, and his cock was full and restrained by the fabric. Yagi allowed him to ease his pants open and take his manhood in hand.
“Lube,” Yagi gasped as Aizawa’s skilled fingers finally touched him. He needed lube. He needed to get naked and find lube. He had a bottle in his luggage, but that was so far from Aizawa.
Aizawa flung his other hands towards his pants on the opposite edge of the bed. Yagi pulled away from the teasing fingers to rummage through Aizawa’s pockets. Two packets of lube were tucked into his wallet.
“You assumed?” Yagi held the packets up as he put the wallet safely on the nightstand.
Aizawa shrugged, content with a cheeky look on his face. He cleared his throat to speak. “It seemed a safe assumption.”
Yagi laughed as he slowly stripped his own clothing away and discarded them onto the floor, forgotten. Aizawa held an arm out and he almost reached to caress the starry patch of scar tissue disfiguring his lover’s flesh, but he redirected to catch Yagi’s cheek instead and guided his face back to his own. Yagi almost never forgot to be self-conscious about his body, and Aizawa wasn’t about to ruin the moment by pointing his attention to it. They continued to kiss languidly. Occasionally, he would stroke Yagi’s cock to keep him interested but they moved with no urgency.
Slowly, because while he was still young, he wasn’t in his twenties anymore, Aizawa felt the physical stirrings of his arousal. Once he began to harden again, his movements became more urgent. Aizawa rubbed his length against Yagi’s bony hip and their erections bobbed against each other.
When Aizawa slung his leg over Yagi’s hips, forcing the older man onto his back, Yagi gasped. Aizawa sat above him, staring down with hooded eyes. He took both their cocks in his hand and stroked them together, tongue wetting his lips in eagerness. Yagi stared, transfixed. While Aizawa was his, he would fully and proudly admit that he also belonged to Aizawa. The other man could easily lift him up to his greatest heights; he could just as easily destroy him, crumple Yagi up like a piece of garbage and throw him away. All it would take is a single utterance. The amount of power Aizawa had over Yagi was overwhelming, but he trusted him. Aizawa could end him in a single breath, but he wouldn’t.
Aizawa tore open a lube packet with his teeth and drizzled the cold, slick substance over his fingers. He inserted the fingers into his own ass in attempts to spread the lube liberally. While he liked the dry burn of Yagi’s fingers, his cock was a different story. It was longer and thicker than Aizawa’s own, to be expected of a man of Yagi’s size, he supposed.
Yagi placed his hands on Aizawa’s hips to steady him. His thumbs fit against the hollows of Aizawa’s hip bones. The muscles in his thighs glided under his skin as Aizawa continued to prepare himself. Yagi’s bites were red mars against his pale skin. It was a glorious sight.
Readied, Aizawa opened the second packet of lube and poured it over Yagi’s cock. Yagi gave a ragged moan at the cold feel. Aizawa jerked him a few times. The thick liquid warmed with his touch and Yagi’s head back against the bed. He moaned and tried to thrust up against Aizawa, but the other man’s weight had him pinned. Aizawa lifted himself up and positioned Yagi’s cock. He waited, tip pressed against his entrance, teasing Yagi. Yagi whined, and his fingers gripped into Aizawa’s hips. He wanted to push down, wanted to thrust deep into him. Aizawa took a breath and felt the moment. He reveled in the anticipation before being filled, that instant when their breaths caught.
He slipped the head of Yagi’s cock past the rings of muscle guarding his hole. He slid down the length and hissed as he seated himself. Yagi filled him, pushed the air from his lungs. He shifted and felt sparks dance throughout his body. He lifted himself back up slowly until he felt the head almost slip out, and swiftly re-sheathed. Yagi moaned brokenly.
Aizawa straightened his back, sitting up proud and he impaled himself on Yagi’s cock. The older man sunk his nails into his hips—he was probably bleeding from the intensity of it but he couldn’t care—and thrust up into him. He gasped as they found a matching rhythm, an ebb and flow as fluid as the tide. Aizawa’s hips undulated as he chased his second orgasm with the same impatience as the first. He took his own cock in hand and began to beat himself off in earnest. He could feel it wanting to crest.
“Fuck, Shouta.” Yagi stared up at him, caught his dark eyes. Aizawa was marvelous above him. His ass clenched at Yagi’s thick length, begged his completion from his body. He used his strength to tilt Aizawa back just a more couple inches, to support him so he wouldn’t fall. The angle shifted again and Aizawa’s mouth fell open, ragged cry muted by breathlessness as he came again, his ejaculation mere dribbles over Yagi’s stomach this time. Yagi felt the muscles around his cock contract to grip him almost painfully and it tipped him over the edge. His eyes squeezed shut and he was just coming, coming up into the tight, beloved man above him. His hips thrust through his orgasm until the stimulation became too much.
His lungs heaved as he began to come down. Aizawa slowly lifted until his softened cock fell out. The younger man’s thighs shook violently and his whole body was too sensitive to move. Yagi’s cum dripped from his abused hole and ran in rivulets down the back of his leg.
Aizawa fell to the bed next to Yagi, still panting. He felt entirely wrung out and satisfied. A lethargic smile curved his lips as he kissed Yagi’s thin lips again. He could spend the whole night doing that. They had no plans for their first night—he probably would. “I love you.” He sighed it against his husband’s cheek as their bodies cooled. They were filthy, and he wanted a shower, but he also didn’t want to break the afterglow. He molded himself against Yagi’s side and placed a hand over his heart. His fingers ghosted over rough scar tissue. He came so close to never having this, and he never would have known. He knew in his heart that, had All For One succeeded, Aizawa would have continued his lonely day-to-day existence, devoid of sunshine, unaware of what he could have had.
But that was a hypothetical, and Aizawa didn’t pay any more thought to hypotheticals than strictly necessary. It didn’t happen. Yagi was here, with him, for the rest of their lives.
Yagi put a hand over Aizawa’s and breathed deeply, his thin chest rising and falling. The gold band on his finger caught the soft hotel room light. Aizawa smiled warmly.
His stomach growled and Yagi laughed. Muscles protesting, Aizawa sat up with a scowl on his face. He made to leave but Yagi stopped his with an arm slung around his waist. He pretended to resist before falling back into his love’s arms. They could call room service later. He could shower later. Aizawa felt sleepy and sated in a way that had nothing to do with food. His ear against Yagi’s chest heard the beat of his steadfast heart. The quiet breaths lulled him. A warm tiredness blanketed his mind. For right now, they could rest.