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Bakugou Katsuki only ever felt truly fired up when he was on the mattress at a local high school’s gym, wearing only his shorts and drenched in vegetable oil. Ten weeks ago he began attending this oil wrestling tournament after his Friday classes; first as a spectator, but now as a fighter. When you’re a college student, every single yen counts—being an intern in his parent’s fashion magazine didn’t pay well enough for his liking. An underground oil wrestling community was not where he expected to get his cash, but he had heard from his friends that winners get paid a good sum.
Bakugou didn’t consider himself to be a great wrestler—he had the physique, but he was never trained properly in technique. The stakes in this, however, was different. This was pure entertainment. Regulations were lax and traditional techniques were rarely used anyway. So far, things have been going well for him, who seldom lost a fight. Whether it was pure luck or talent, people could only speculate.
That night he was ready for his opponent, a man his age with toned body that rivaled his own. He had never seen this guy before. He had the shittiest hairstyle he had ever seen: bright red hair molded into spikes with hair gel. The match coordinators splashed them with a bottle of oil and they slathered their body with it—Bakugou noticed that the other guy took really great care not to get oil in his hair. When they were completely oiled up, they stepped onto the mattress and reached a hand out towards each other.
“Kirishima,” the opponent introduced himself with a big smile that showed off his sharp teeth. Bakugou grabbed his opponent’s slippery hand and shook it firmly. “Bakugou,” he replied, giving him a confident grin. His opponent had a strong, confident handshake; Bakugou surmised that he might have met a tough opponent.
The two men stepped back to take their stances. The crowd gathered in a circle around the mattress. There might be around 30 to 40 spectators that night. Photographs and videos weren’t allowed—it was an underground match, after all. Half of the audience was younger men who made money from bets or older men who found the whole thing erotic. Bakugou didn’t mind the crowd. Nothing mattered to him except victory.
The referee shouted from beside the mattress, “Alright, 3, 2, 1, begin!”
Bakugou didn’t hesitate to strike first. He leaped forward and locked his arms around his opponent’s body. He tried to slam him down with the momentum but, unsurprisingly, the shitty-haired guy had the resilience of a boulder. Kirishima shifted his weight from his feet to his upper body, pushing Bakugou back violently, and Bakugou nearly lost his grasp due to the slippery oil. He grappled around Kirishima’s neck and pushed back. Kirishima grabbed Bakugou’s shoulders and pushed against him. They were locked in a stalemate for a good minute. They were both nearly equal in raw strength, Bakugou thought, so he had to outwit his opponent if he wanted to win this match. Using the slickness of the oil to his advantage, he turned to expose his left side towards Kirishima and let him grapple his body. Before Kirishima could do anything, he slid his left leg between Kirishima’s legs and propelled with his right leg, using up the momentum to let Kirishima slam onto the mattress. Fortunately, Kirishima ‘s feet eventually slipped on the oily mattress and he fell on his right side, but not before he pulled his opponent down with him.
With both of them on the ground, Kirishima tried putting Bakugou in a headlock. Kirishima’s right arm was wrapped around the nape of his neck while his left arm reached to complete the lock. Sensing an opportunity, Bakugou remained on his side, then swiftly hooked his left leg from Kirishima’s back to between Kirishima’s legs. He propped up with his right knee and twisted his body so that he was now on top of Kirishima, free from the hold.
Kirishima had rolled over on the mattress, facing down. In oil wrestling, the first person to get his back pinned to the ground would lose, so Bakugou had to find a way to turn him belly side up and pin both of his shoulders down. Kirishima proved to be the most stubborn opponent. He wouldn’t budge from his position despite all of Bakugou’s prying and grappling. The referee announced the 3 minutes mark and the audience cheered. As he tired himself out by trying to pin Kirishima’s back to the ground, Kirishima seized the opportunity and slipped to his side. He was at risk of being pinned on his back but he caught Bakugou off guard—he propped himself up with his arm and managed to push Bakugou away.
The two men brought themselves back on their feet. The referee announced the 5 minutes mark. Again, Bakugou went for the offensive, but Kirishima crouched down just in time. He head-butted Bakugou’s torso as soon as he was grabbed, causing Bakugou to fall to his bottom. There was a dull ache where Kirishima’s head hit him, but he shook it away. As Kirishima kneeled to bring Bakugou down, Bakugou gritted his teeth and pulled his chin to his chest. He tried to reach around Kirishima’s waist and push him back, but Kirishima slipped at the last second and managed to wriggle his way out of Bakugou’s embrace.
3 minutes left into the 10 minutes match, Bakugou was getting impatient. By the rules, if nobody was pinned by the 10-minute mark, the fight would be a draw. He didn’t want all his effort in fighting this beast of a man to go to waste. They grappled each other on the ground, let go when the oil made it impossible for them to hold on, and then grappled again. The restless audience cheered louder for them. Bakugou caught a glimpse of Kirishima’s face and saw flaming red irises and gritted teeth. He grinned then grappled Kirishima again, this time positioning himself so he could hook his legs around Kirishima’s hips while holding his wrists so he couldn’t grab back. The audience erupted as Bakugou finally pushed his opponent down for one last time; Kirishima landed on one of his shoulders. Bakugou crashed on top of Kirishima, pinning the other shoulder down as the referee announced the end of the match. He released Kirishima, both of them standing up on unsteady feet, faces red from exertion. The referee took their hands and raised Bakugou’s hands up, proclaiming him the winner. Though he lost, Kirishima seemed to be in high spirits—Bakugou caught the man grinning to himself as they made way for the next match.
Bakugou stripped free from his oil-soaked shorts and hopped into the gym’s shower, not expecting anything, when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see the man at the shower room door—no other than his last opponent, Kirishima. He had with him a towel, a gym bag, and a stupid smile. “Hey!” he called out.
Bakugou sighed. Kirishima seemed to be the type of person Bakugou avoided everyday: the overly sociable, friend-of-all-fellas type of guy.
“Hey,” he replied flatly.
Kirishima put his things down and went into the shower next to Bakugou’s. The shower area was free from dividers, so Bakugou could see clearly as Kirishima took off his shorts and briefs. “You were great. I haven’t had that much fun in ages,” Kirishima chattered, tossing his clothes to the general direction of his gym bag.
Bakugou stared at Kirishima. His spiky hair, previously styled to perfection, was now a mess. His tan skin glistened with residual oil from the match. He moved with an air of confidence that rivaled Bakugou’s own. Something about that stirred a funny feeling in Bakugou’s stomach; he wasn’t sure what it was exactly. He shook his head and turned the shower on.
As he enjoyed the cold water hitting his skin he couldn’t help stealing glances at Kirishima, who was washing his hair with vigor. Bakugou rolled his eyes when Kirishima cussed, having gotten shampoo into his eyes. He was lathering himself in soap when Kirishima called out to him.
“You mind if I borrow your soap? Left mine at home,” he said with a smile.
“Whatever,” Bakugou said, tossing the soap.
“Thanks!” Kirishima said as he caught it.
They continued showering in relative silence until Bakugou noticed Kirishima not-so-discretely looking at him.
“The fuck you want now?” he yelled.
“Nothing, it’s just… I had a clean sweep until this match,” Kirishima said sheepishly.
Bakugou hurriedly rinsed off the suds off his body, then turned off the shower. Kirishima followed suit.
“Wait, Bakugou…”
“What do you want now…”
“Well… To be blunt, I was hoping we can have a rematch sometime.”
They both stepped out of the showers and stood face to face, both unsure on what to do to break the silence. Bakugou felt his heart racing uncharacteristically. He wasn’t afraid nor threatened, so what gives?
There was that something again, that feeling in his stomach. He calculated his next move; his opponent was very fit, they were roughly the same height, and they were both dripping wet after the shower. There was an equal chance of them both winning if a rematch was to happen now. Bakugou cocked his head slightly, while Kirishima’s face reddened.
It happened without any cue, any warning. Their bodies seemed to move on their own. One moment they were standing apart; the next second they were on the wet floor, seizing each other.
Bakugou gained the upper hand for a second and climbed on top of Kirishima, who had one shoulder already on the floor. Kirishima wrapped his legs around Bakugou’s torso and twisted his hips, trying to push him off. As Bakugou tightened his grip on Kirishima’s shoulders he felt something firm and warm rubbing on him. He gasped and released Kirishima, realizing what had happened. His cheeks turned crimson when Kirishima, sensing that Bakugou lost his focus, climbed on top of him. Bakugou couldn’t escape Kirishima’s tight grip on his body, and he could feel Kirishima’s hardness rubbing against his thigh. He wriggled to break free from Kirishima’s bear hug, but his own penis rubbed against Kirishima’s abdomen and he gasped as he felt it becoming harder against his will. Embarrassed, Bakugou tried again to push Kirishima away, but it was in vain. One of his shoulders was already on the floor and he wasn’t quick enough to stop Kirishima from pinning the other down.
Kirishima sat up, victorious. He was panting and grinning. “I win,” he said. He sat with his legs splayed apart, hands supporting him behind his back. Bakugou got up and was immediately greeted with the sight of Kirishima’s erection. He blushed profusely, trying to cover his face by scratching his hair and looking down. He had never been turned on by an opponent, at least not openly, but now his own erection betrayed him.
The heat from Bakugou’s crotch spread to his stomach and thighs. He was overwhelmed with the feeling that he wanted to touch himself, but most of all, he wanted to touch Kirishima.
Kirishima stood up first. Bakugou followed. Kirishima’s cheeks slowly turn red as well as Bakugou came up to him and boldly, unabashedly, pressed his body onto Kirishima’s.
Bakugou stroked Kirishima’s wet hair. “Tiebreaker. I’m not gonna lose this time,” he whispered into Kirishima’s ears. His hands traced Kirishima’s sides, following his curves to his taut buttocks. He gave the cheeks a good squeeze and Kirishima yelped. In retaliation, Kirishima’s fingers found Bakugou’s nipples and he rubbed them between his thumb and index finger. Bakugou grunted, eyes shut tight, his erection pressed against Kirishima’s.
“Is this the tiebreaker?” Kirishima whispered.
“Yes,” Bakugou sighed, eyes still shut. “You want to win, right?”
“This is what I want,” Kirishima whispered back, so close to Bakugou’s ears that it felt hot. Kirishima bit Bakugou’s ear gently, then ran his lips over Bakugou’s jaw and chin. Bakugou threw his head back as he shuddered and squeezed Kirishima’s buttocks again. He opened his eyes to look into Kirishima’s wanting eyes. He was so close he could notice the scar on Kirishima’s right eyelid and each strand of his long lashes. Their noses meet and soon their lips were pressed together; their eyes closed as they savour the taste of one another. Bakugou opened his mouth slightly and let Kirishima’s tongue in. He didn’t even realize that Kirishima had wrapped his hand on their erections, stroking them passionately. Bakugou broke the kiss, lips wet and swollen, and reached down to help Kirishima. They stroked together rhythmically, not stopping even as they resumed kissing. Kirishima then pulled away and kneeled in front of Bakugou.
Kirishima ran his fingers through his wet hair, tucking loose strands behind his ears, before reaching for Bakugou’s penis with both hands. He swirled his tongue around the opening, lapping the precum that leaked out of the penis. Stroking the penis with his hands, he inserted the tip into his mouth. Bakugou bucked his hips and instinctively held Kirishima’s head so his hair wouldn’t get into his eyes.
“Kiri…shi… ma…” Bakugou called out between gasps as he moved his hips, his penis rubbing in and out of the inside of Kirishima’s warm and moist mouth. Kirishima looked up to face him, penis still in his mouth. Bakugou was red from ear to ear.
“Stop… Kirishima…” Bakugou said weakly. He helped Kirishima up on his feet, then kissed him again. He took Kirishima’s penis in one hand, kneeling as he did so, and tried to emulate what Kirishima did to him. He was inexperienced and self-conscious about it, but Kirishima’s approving moans kept him going. Eventually he stopped to gasp for air; he rose up and Kirishima helped wipe the spit dribbling down his gaping lips with the back of his hand.
Kirishima grabbed his own penis and so did Bakugou. They stroked their penises in unison at first, until their strokes became more erratic as they start leaking more precum together. Bakugou’s free hand was on Kirishima’s lower back, pulling him closer, while Kirishima’s other hand held Bakugou’s head so he could kiss him deeper. Kirishima moaned into Bakugou’s mouth as the tension became unbearable; he bit Bakugou’s lower lip and groaned in ecstasy as he came. He pulled his hips away while Bakugou continued masturbating; they shared another deep kiss until Bakugou unloaded himself too, moaning in pleasure as he did.
Bakugou was spent. He sat on a puddle on the floor, then lay down on it. Kirishima followed suit, lying down next to him. They both stared at the ceiling lamp as they try to digest what had just happened between them.
“So I won,” Bakugou said smugly.
“What?”
“I lasted longer than you, loser.”
“Yeah, only because I’m better at blowing you,” Kirishima scoffed. They both laughed quietly.
Kirishima propped himself up and leaned towards Bakugou. “You know, maybe we can do a best out of five? Gimme your contact and we can, you know, set up another rematch,” Kirishima said.
Bakugou sat up. The funny feeling in his stomach returned, but he found it comforting this time. Would it be like this every time he sees Kirishima? He didn’t really mind that.
“Best out of five, then,” Bakugou said, trying to hold back his smile.