Archive of Our Own

Hizashi flitted about his and Shouta's apartment, attempting to make the most of his random Thursday afternoon off. Taking out the bins, putting on the mountain of laundry that had amassed, pulling various frost covered packages from the freezer to defrost in the sink. Blonde hair fitted in a loose braid that swung from side to side as he danced around their apartment. Music playing softly from the wireless speakers set up in the house. New bi-monthly playlists flipped between 1940s jazz and early 2000s Eminem.

As he was wiping down the kitchen counter, Hizashi’s phone vibrated on the faux marble countertop, twice for each message that came through. Shouta’s vibration pattern. Typing in his password, Hizashi opened the messages. Glancing over the short lines of text, key words filled him with anxiety: ‘Culprit’s registered quirk: Aphrodisiac (akin to synthetic libido enhancer). Being driven home, ETA 10 mins approx.’

“Fuckin’ shit. Fuck.” Hizashi muttered angrily, “That’s just great.”

In normal circumstances, couples would have a hell of a time if their partner was hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. But this was Aizawa Shouta. Hizashi's Husband: the man who hardly ever indulges in carnal desire and is majoritively indifferent to sex. Heck, even repulsed sometimes.

Pushing away from the kitchen countertop, Hizashi stalked around the apartment, turning off his speaker system as he made a mental list of everything that he'd need to get ready for his lover's return. Skitting anxiously between rooms, gathering food and drink, clothes, towels, everything under the sun and more. Emerging from their bedroom, Hizashi went to pace by the front door. His quiet steps echoing ominously in the small hallway. His cochlears do little to dwindle the static in his ears ringing loudly in the interrupted silence.

‘If it was the other way round, there is no doubt that Shouta would help me.’ Hizashi thought, ‘Will he let me help him? This is going to suck.’

A heavy thud rattled the front door. The thin line of light that seeped from the corridor under the bottom of the door darkened. Hizashi bolted to the door, opening it hesitantly as he felt a weight forcing it open. His husband collapsed with his back against the front of the door. Clutching a piece of paper in a white knuckled hand. Before pulling the door fully open, Hizashi placed a hand to support his husband's head, crouching beside him.

Hizashi could barely make out the soft sound his husband made at the touch to the back of his head. An arm that seemed to lack any sort of control flopped over Shouta's face, fingers twisting into Hizashi's tank top. The blonde threaded his hands underneath his lover's arms, holding his torso tightly as he pulled the boneless man into the apartment, attempting to discern what the incoherent sentences his spouse was spouting meant.

Slamming the front door shut with his foot, Hizashi lay down on the cold tile, the heavy weight of his husband's body pinning his torso and lower half to the floor. A concerningly warm hand found Hizashi's, shoving something that felt like a piece of paper into his palm before caressing the tops of his fingers to close them over it. Hizashi wiggled his arms out from where they were pinned, opening the crinkled piece of paper.

‘Lasts between 10-16 hours. Affected persons will benefit from sexual activities with another person, however this is not necessary. Will only cause death from exhaustion, dehydration or malnutrition depending on the affected person's lifestyle. Caretakers should ensure, if a patient is to be left alone, that they have plentiful access to food and water in addition to stimulating items.’

As Hizashi read the rushed message, he was only vaguely aware of Shouta turning over and slowly pulling himself up into a seated position in his hips. Those scarily warm hands snaked their way under his tank top, palms cupping his pecs and squeezing as his husband pressed their crotches together with a loud whine. Hizashi had the wind knocked out of him by the vicious grind of Shouta’s hips, hands jumping to try and still them.

“Jesus, Shouta. Wait.” Hizashi wheezed.

“Hizashi-, I'm so horny.” Shouta's hands retracted from under the blonde's shirt, wrapping around the other's wrist, trying to pull his hips free. A weak, “Please,” falling from his lips.

“I am more than happy to help you. But not here.”

Hizashi looked up at his husband, giving him a quick once over for any injuries. A twinge of concern entered his system as he noticed the massive tear down the front of his hero costume after lifting the capture scarf from off the other’s shoulders. Hizashi pushed Shouta backwards slightly, so he rested on his thighs rather than the blonde’s hips, hands coming to inspect the tear as he sat up from the floor. The fabric was cleanly cut for the most part, no angry red line on his lover's skin either that suggested an attack. Hizashi had a theory about who did this. Leaning to the left to look at his husband’s thigh, reaching to brush the, apparently empty, sheath.

Hizashi looked at his lover, his eyes clouded with something other than lust. Like he wasn't there. A small part of Hizashi was terrified to be trapped under his husband, like he currently was, when he looked that primal. An unpredictable beast rather than the softie that was his curly haired lover. Sitting up as best he could, Hizashi carefully placed a hand against Shouta’s face, rubbing his thumb against his cheekbone.

“Shouta? Starling?” Hizashi called softly, “We need to try and talk before I can help you.”

A hollow, “Okay.”

“Shou’, who did this?” The blonde tugged lightly on one of the torn sides of the fabric.

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Collar was choking me.” Shouta gave the saddest look, frowning deeply as he uttered, “They took my knife.”

“I know. I know.” Hizashi comforted, watching his husband bristle at an attempt to run a soothing hand over his clothed arm, “I need to ask… Do you want me to help you?”

“I feel like I'm dying. I hate being horny. You know that.”

“I hear you. Shouta. Lover. But I need you to tell me, explicitly, do you want my help?”

“Yes,” a rasping breath, “and if I pass out, as long as I am still breathing and my heart is still beating, you will fuck this drug out of my system, even if I'm not conscious.”

Hizashi shrunk slightly at his lover’s unusually commanding behaviour.

“Promise me, Hizashi.”

“I- Shou-, I- I don't know.” A moment of pause, only interrupted by Shouta’s heavy breathing.

“T-try?” Shouta threads a hand into his hair, tugging painfully hard. “If you can't. I understand.”

“Don’t do that.” Hizashi forcibly uncurls his husbands fingers from his own hair, offering his arm as a point for release, blunt nails digging crescents into his skin. “I will try, this is the only thing I can't promise you, I'm sorry.”

Shouta took in a sharp, pained breath, teeth gritting. The, now panicked, blonde frantically searched for what was causing his husband pain. But, he was physically unharmed? The only sign of damage was something he inflicted upon himself and didn't even break skin.

“Where are you hurting and why can't I see it?” Hizashi asked.

“It’s the arousal.”

“The what?”

“The arousal? The stabs? The pangs? They hurt. Physically. Always have.”

Hizashi’s eyes widened behind his glasses, blinking hard a few times, questioning if his cochlears were working properly.

“It’s a trauma response.”

A look of concern.

“My brain and body are just interpreting signals wrong. Nothings happened. Please don't worry.” Shouta took a labored breath, “Oh my sweet god, ‘Zashi, please, I’m begging you, help me.”

“I believe you –you’re telling me about this in detail later though– we need to move, I’m not fucking you, or being fucked, in our entryway.”

Hizashi winced as Shouta’s nails left the indents they created in his arm, certain to bruise, but worth it if it meant keeping his husband from injuring himself. The dark haired man’s thighs quivered as he attempted to maneuver himself back onto his feet, only managing to fall onto his side, a fresh wave of exhaustion adding itself to the things he was feeling. A dull ache behind his unseeing eye alongside the itch of healed stitches was unbearable. Holding his eyelid further open with his right hand, Shouta went to take his prosthetic eye out, confused as his left arm remained pinned to his side.

“No. Wait.” Hizashi said firmly.

“I am in pain. Hizashi.”

“Your hands ain't clean. I’m not havin’ that eye get infected.”

Shouta whined. His patience was already as thin as the thread he used to embroider Hizashi something on a tope bag. Flailing as he felt himself being hoisted off the ground. He scrambled to weave his arms around his husband’s neck. Hizashi smelt so good? He feels so right even just being held by him like this. He needs this man to re-write his DNA. Shouta is desperate for his husband in a way he’s never been before and he’s certain he needs him in his soul. He rubs his nose against a freckled shoulder, giggling deliriously. Hizashi shivered at the feeling of teeth grazing against his skin.

Hizashi pushed their bedroom door open with his hip, being careful not to knock his lover’s head against the doorframe while doing so. He did not need a concussed and horny husband at this point in time. Or ever. Ideally. Lowering Shouta flat onto the bed, Hizashi glanced at his bicep as he felt a tongue lathe over the skin. A dark cloud of curls, already wild from a day's work, framed Shouta’s face. Normally in the late afternoon light, it would be possible to differentiate the deep onyx of his iris from the black of his pupil. His pupil was so dilated it was a wonder how he wasn't squinting at the beams of light that filtered through the cracks in the blinds and tulle.

After ensuring that Shouta wasn't somehow going to throw himself off the bed, Hizashi ran into their bathroom, flicking on the tap, frantically washing his hands. Using his elbow to turn off the tap and shaking his hands relatively dry, the blonde rushed back to his lover’s bedside, taken slightly by surprise at the sight of Shouta led on his front pressing his hips into the mattress. Small huffs and winces muffled by the pillow he’d shoved his face into.

“Shou’?” Hizashi said softly.

The man in question froze before turning his head.

“Can you turn over? I can't touch you, my hands are clean to get your eye out.”

The look on Shouta’s face was like Hizashi had just sentenced him to pushing a boulder up a hill for eternity. Turning his head to the right, Shouta lifted an arm, limbs moving through imaginary tar. Planting his palm into the mattress to push with all his strength, rolling over with a dull thump onto his back. He reached towards Hizashi, tugging hard on the hideous neon green shorts he was wearing. The waistband creeping centimeter by centimeter down the other’s hips. As much as the colour was sickening, these shorts did so little to hide any of his husband's assets.

An elbow nudged Shouta’s face to look up to the ceiling. Hizashi hovered over him, loose braid dangling over the front of his left shoulder, eyes darting behind red framed glasses. Shouta jerked his head away from a cold sensation that touched the right side of his face. Barely cognisant of the shushed apologies and reassurances from the blonde above him. The dull pressure behind his right eye worsened for a brief moment as frigid fingertips extracted the acrylic covering.

Shouta ran his hands down his face. So many sensations. His right eye socket felt weirdly empty. He swore he could feel the toes on a foot he didn't have. The sickening prickle of the ends of his hair against his neck. That telling squirming feeling in his gut that he so vehemently despised. And so warm. Even a forty degree day in the sweltering summer sun never tortured him like this. The sleeves of his hero costume were sticking to his skin causing a tension in his muscles that made him tremble and shake. Only a small amount of relief was granted to him as his boot was pried off his foot. His toes finally free of their claustrophobic cotton cage as his sock was peeled off.

The feeling of fingers carting into his hair made him want to wretch. Their attempt to put his hair into a tie had his arms flailing blindly. A loud slap and the tingle of pain across his fingers brought Shouta back to the world of the living for a brief while. Moving his hand into his field of vision. If his hand was hurting. And it sounded like something got hit. Shit.

Hizashi.

Shouta froze, breathing hard, eye wide with terror.

He’d just hit his husband.

Desperately looking around for any sign of the blonde man. Tumbling onto the worn fabric of the carpeted floor from the bed. Voice small as he tried to call for him. An ache formed in his wrist as he writhed on the floor.

“Shouta!?” Hizashi’s voice called from their living area, feet thundering against the floor, freezing in the doorway to their bedroom. “Fuck.”

The puddle of black and grey cloth reached towards Hizashi with a pale shaking hand. “‘Zashi, I'm so sorry.”

“Did you fall? Shit, your wrist.”

“Don’t make me leave.” Shouta’s hands scrambled to tug on Hizashi’s tank top, begging, “I- I- didn't mean it. Please.”

“Whoa, what? Why are you crying? I'm not leaving you.”

“You left me… after I hit yo- you -u.” Shouta’s hands were shaking hard. Entirely unaware of the tears streaming down his face.

‘It was an accident. It's not a big deal?’ Hizashi thought.

The shaking. The crying. The uneven breathing. The terrifyingly weak calls he’d heard from the hall. Where had he seen this before?

Seventeen year old Shouta.

Oh, this isn't good.

“Shh. I am okay.” Hizashi maneuvered Shouta back onto the bed, “I am not mad at you,” laying on top of him, squeezing clothed shoulders steadily one side at a time, over and over. “You are safe. I am not leaving you. I was putting your boots away. I am okay. You are safe. I am not leaving you, or making you leave.” Hizashi hummed, stabilising his quirk, allowing the vibration from his chest and throat to jump from him to his distressed lover.

“I hit you.”

“Yes. You did.”

“I- I didn't mean to.”

“I know you didn't mean to. I am not mad at you.”

“Abandon me. I'm too much to deal with. I'm not worth the effort.”

“No, I won't." Hizashi stated, “You are worth the effort.”

“I’ll leave. It's fine.”

“You don't have to go anywhere, Shouta. You are home.”

Hizashi could see the cogs turning behind his husband’s distant looking eye, “I’m home?”

“Yes, my love, you are home.”

Hizashi continued squeezing his husband's shoulders as he began to sob. Thinking to himself, ‘If only there was another way to do this. It feels like murder to put your heart through this.’

Hizashi didn't know how much time had passed. The dark haired man beneath him had finally started breathing close to normally. Making small noises when asked a question. The relief that flooded the blonde when his lover finally blinked was close to pure ecstasy. He was back. Fragile, but back.

“Songbird?” Shouta asked quietly.

“Yes, starling?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a mistake, you didn't hurt me.”

“It’s still wrong.”

“Wrong is okay sometimes. Lover, remember, your body is in a heightened state from the quirk in your system.”

“I can feel everything.”

“Taking your clothes off was the next part of my plan,” Hizashi disclosed. “That sound okay?”

Shouta hummed, nodding.

“Okay.”

Hizashi slowly lifted himself off his husband’s body. Planting his feet onto the floor, leaning over the broadly built man again. The tear down the front of the other’s jumpsuit made getting the zip down easily next to impossible. Shouta’s palming of himself wasn't helping either, constantly wriggling into and away from Hizashi’s touch, his punched out breaths an everpresent reminder of his current state.

The curly haired man whined as his hand was taken away from his hips, the loss of friction was dire, as his arms were finally being freed from their fabric prisons. Hizashi lifted his husband's hips off the mattress one side at a time, sliding both his jumpsuit and boxers down his leg. Shouta heard the fabric fall to the floor beside the bed, gritting his teeth to muffle a pained shout as a cold hand on his hip sent a shock through his pelvis.

Hizashi powered off his husband's prosthetic knee, pulling the pin, coaxing the carbon fiber socket from his residual. A groan of relief from the man beneath him as it came free, quickly putting it onto charge by the bedside table before he peeled back the fabric layers from his lover’s residual. Briefly inspecting the dark-haired man’s right wrist, touching the tender spot, noting only a few winces before determining it was probably just going to bruise. Hizashi cracked open a jelly sachet, holding the tube close to Shouta’s mouth until he clocked the pouch and took it from him. Chewing needlessly on the flavourless jelly.

Taking a glass from the bedside, Hizashi grabbed the bottle of cordial he’d stashed there earlier, tipping some into the glass before filling it halfway with water. Placing the condensation covered glass on the night stand, he opened the top drawer, finding his husband’s pain medicine, shaking two small oval pills onto his hand. Shouta’s breathing was heavy and labored, mouth open, eye lidded as he dragged a dry hand up and down his dick. The finished sachet was forgotten in his left hand.

Hizashi utilised this opportunity to place Shouta’s medicine into his mouth, a small laugh from said man as he realised what his husband was doing, lifting his head from the pillow it was resting on. Cradling Shouta’s head, Hizashi carefully tipped the dark purple water into his lover’s mouth, trying not to drown him. Easing the angle of the glass, the blonde watched the dark haired man swallow. Mouth falling open again in request for more.

“Drink slowly.” Hizashi said before tipping the glass again.

Placing the now emptied glass and sachet on the bedside table, Hizashi took off his tank top, tossing it to the floor, before shimmying out of his neon green shorts and underwear. Walking around to his side of the bed, Hizashi opened his nightstand, pulling out their lube and a few condoms, placing them on the stands' surface. Clambering onto the bed, Hizashi knelt beside Shouta’s strewn out body, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention.

“Can I touch you?” Hizashi asked softly.

“Please. Hizashi, it hurts.”

“I can only imagine, my sweet.”

Hizashi clicked open the bottle of lube, squeezing a fair amount onto his left hand, spreading it between his fingers and across his palm, trying to warm.

“What are our safe words?” Hizashi asked.

“Red, and-” Shouta clicked twice.

“Atta boy.” Hizashi's hand hovered above his husband's dick, “It might be cold.”

“I don't care. Just touch me already.”

The blonde closed his hand around his lover's length. A hiss from the dark-haired man telling him the lube was, in fact, cold. Hizashi stroked his husband's dick slowly, a slight squeeze that he knew was maddening, hips jumping to chase his hand each time it threatened to pull off. Shifting from his kneeling position to lie on his side beside Shouta, Hizashi threaded his right hand under the back of the other's neck, watching him bristle at the touch. Coaxing his husband to turn onto his side, Hizashi placed his face close to Shouta’s in question. Waiting for the curly head to close the distance.

A warm hand landed on the blonde's hip. The stubble of Shouta’s cheek brushed against Hizashi’s face. Laboured breaths were huffed against the side of his face, cochlear picking up the panted rushes of air, whistling almost painfully in his ears. Shouta mouths at his lover's jaw. Lips dragging against the soft skin up to his temple, a few clipped sounds escaping him as Hizashi’s hand sped up. Groaning loudly as another bolt of electricity jolted up his back. Weakly grinding his hips into his husband's hand.

“Hiza- mmf.” Shouta bit his lip, a clipped breath lifting his bangs into the air for a brief moment.

“Make yourself feel good.” Hizashi whispered in a low voice beside his ear.

The warmth of the hand on Hizashi’s thigh disappeared, landing on the back of his head, its grip just a smidge painful as it slowly turned his head slightly upwards. Shouta’s lips touched his in what could only be dubbed a ghost of a kiss. The brush of his worry bitten lips hesitant. Hizashi tilted his head to the side, smushing his face further into the pillow, jutting his chin forward. Playfully stealing a kiss from his lover's lips. Letting him know it was okay.

Shouta closed the gap between them. Lips pressing heavily against his husbands. Kissing the blonde with fiery fervour laced with a desperate need. There was a smooth brush against Shouta’s lower lip, opening his mouth slightly to earn a pleased noise from his lithe lover as he allowed Hizashi’s tongue to slip into his mouth. The dark haired man let out a pathetic cry as the hand around his dick vanished. Hizashi’s body tilted backwards slightly as he blindly reached for something behind him.

Peppering the corners of the blonde’s mouth with kisses, Shouta opened his eye, staring deep into Hizashi’s as he slowly sucked his thin bottom lip into his mouth. Nibbling gently. The look of his own reflection in the transparent glass of Hizashi’s glasses caused another hot flush to run rampant through his body. Shouta knew he was a needy lover, but this was just embarrassing. Looking that out of it at a hand on his dick. Releasing his husband's lip from between his teeth, Shouta turned his face to the side, attempting to bury it in the pillow their heads rested on.

Hizashi’s hand was back on his dick again, having him suck in a sharp breath of air at the unexpected friction, but oh god was it good. His skin felt oversensitive. Hizashi’s touch was already heaven on earth but it just felt so much more. His fingertips that stole heat from his skin. That practiced touch that made him squirm in the best way.

If the hand that snaked its way up to his chest was any warning, Shouta paid it no mind, simply accepting his fate. A singular finger brushed over his nipple, a breathy moan, head crashing into the blonde’s shoulder as his body tried to fold itself in half to shy away from the touch. Shouta heard the headboard creek as Hizashi used a hand to push himself down the bed slightly. A warm exhale against his chest was quickly followed by his lover’s mouth lapping at his right nipple. A curt grunt and a twitch of his hips as Hizashi sucked at the stiffened bud.

“Ss- songbird, I- ngk.” Shouta gasped, hands jumping to the back of Hizashi’s head, keeping his face against his chest, “Please. That feels so good.”

Hizashi hummed. A short little vibration that made Shouta throw his head back with an unfiltered whine. The ebony haired man's hips doing their best to meet Hizashi’s hand, stuttering as he moved his focus to his lover’s neglected nipple. Lightly scraping his teeth over it. A loud groan made his ear ring with how close it was to his cochlear. While the position was just a little awkward, he reached his right hand up to play with the coarse curls nestled there before they danced over to where he’d left his other nipple sparkling with saliva. Listening to Shouta curse as he pinched it cautiously. Increasing the pressure slightly once he was sure the other could handle it. Shouta’s hips met his slicked hand frantically.

Pulling off his husband’s chest, Hizashi propped himself up on his right arm, leaning up to Shouta’s ear. “You’re close aren't you, lover?”

“So close. Please, I need-”

Hizashi shushed the dark haired man, tracing the back of a gelled nail up the underside of his lover’s dick, “Cum for me.”

Shouta stiffened, muscles tensing as his hips ground forwards into Hizashi’s hand as he came. The blonde watched his husband's face contort between bliss and discomfort. A keening whine that sounded like it had been torn from the back of his throat hung in the air as Shouta rode out his orgasm. Fingers clenching as Hizashi continued to stroke his cock. Head snapping to the side in an uncontrollable twitch. Batting his lover’s hand away from his dick, Shouta took in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling shakily as he willed his nerves to settle.

Tilting his head down to look at his crotch, eye squinting in mild confusion as a towel had magically appeared between him and Hizashi, pointing to it before uttering, “Smart.”

“I know.” Hizashi’s voice was smug. Shouta didn't need to look up to know what look he had plastered across his face but he did anyway. “That looked like it felt like quite a lot. Are you okay?”

“Is this what being a teenager was supposed to be like? Because this sucks.”

Hizashi shook his head slightly, unsure, shrugging.

“Uhm. I think, I’m okay. Everything feels so much more, like, potent? If that makes sense?”

“I get what you’re trying to say.” Hizashi rolled over, pulling open a drawer to grab the wet wipes they kept there, turning back to his husband, “Two choices. Wait, maybe three. Do you want a minute and then I'll wipe you down? Or, can I clean you?”

“I’m not clear. Are you asking to suck me off?”

“Yes.”

Shouta flopped onto his back, “Then, yes, but in a minute. I need some water. And to sit up.”

“Alrighty.”

Hizashi opened the crinkly plastic packaging of the wipes, pulling one out to clean his hand of lube and his husband’s cum. Sitting up to swing his legs off the side of the bed, dropping the used wipe into the bin beside the nightstand, the blonde stood, walking around to kneel beside his lover’s side of the bed. At the feeling of an arm snaking its way under his back, Shouta bent his knee, pushing his heel into the mattress to help maneuver himself into a more upright position.

Hizashi snagged the soiled towel that he’d managed to get on top of the duvet just in time, off the bed. Balling it up before tossing it in the vague direction of the wash basket. Opening the bottle of cordial that sat beside the bedside table, Hizashi flicked on the lamp, bathing the room in a mid sunset orange. He tipped the dark liquid into the glass, now tepid water following suit, giving the dissolving cordial a light stir with his pinkie finger. Hizashi handed over the glass to his lover, cleaning his pinkie finger in his mouth as he looked up at Shouta.

“You have very nice lips.” Shouta said, “I could just imagine you suckin’ my dick.”

Hizashi turned his head away, eyebrows raised, “Fucking hell, Shouta.”

The blonde looked down at his neglected cock, curling a hand around it. Smearing the precum from his tip onto his palm, he started stroking himself leisurely, allowing his head to fall forwards onto the edge of the mattress. A low moan tumbling from his lips as a hand wrapped his braid around itself, yanking his head back up from the mattress. Glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as his skin flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

“So beautiful.” Shouta mumbled as he watched Hizashi pleasure himself.

Hizashi huffed a few short breaths. Cringing as he let go of his aching dick. Extending a hand to take the empty glass from his husband, placing it down on the nightstand. Another sharp tug to his braid forced the blonde’s gaze to look up at Shouta from where he was knelt. That feeling of being stalked, hunted, sent a wave of shivers through him.

“You need to drink something too.” Shouta instructed.

“Starling, I’m alright for now.” The hand tangled in Hizashi’s braid moved to hold his jaw.

“That wasn't a request.” his lover’s darkened eye piercing, “You will have something to drink.”

“Oh jesus, fuck, yes. Okay.”

Hizashi picked up the half empty bottle of water, uncaping it, taking two swigs. The heavy weight of being perceived by another's eye causes a small fear to begin to fester in the middle of his chest. Twisting the lid back onto the bottle with a squeak, Hizashi turned back to look at his husband, squawking at an unexpected hand stroking the top of his head.

“Happy?” Hizashi asked.

“Yes,” Shouta's eye softened, “I have to make sure you're okay too.”

“Oh, my sweet lover. Let's not worry about me for now.”

“But, I want to worry about you. I love you.”

“I know you do, and I love you too. However, we can worry about me after we've sorted you out, okay?”

Shouta frowned, making grabby hands at his husband, asking him to come back onto the bed. “Fine.”

Hizashi stood, swinging a leg onto the bed, leaning a hand on a strong quad as he tucked his legs under himself again. “Can I suck you off now?”

“Can you let your hair down first?”

“Someone wants to be in control~” Hizashi teased.

Hizashi pulled off the dark thin hair tie that held the bottom of his braid secure. Placing the loop over his thumb, pulling the elastic slightly taught with his other hand before firing it at Shouta. A huff of laughter from the curly haired man as the tie landed on his chest. A fond roll of his eye and a shake of his head as he moved it onto the nightstand.

Bringing the braid over his shoulder, Hizashi carted his fingers through his hair, combing out the plait. Each pass of his hands allowed the golden strands to shimmier in the glow from the lamp. Pausing briefly to push his glasses up his nose, lenses already slightly blurred in places from accidental touches from his lover’s skin. Brushing his hair back over his shoulder, Hizashi kneaded the tender parts of his scalp with his fingertips, shaking out the roots of his hair with a heavy sigh.

Shouta watched the disguised muscles in Hizashi’s arms and pecs as his arms moved above his head. The slight outward jut of his bottom ribs, from lungs that took in much more air than the average human. Hizashi was built like one of those archaic greek statues they studied in school. Made to represent the unattainable ideal form, which even now, is still unattainable. After all, the blonde was human, dotted with flaws that made him even more desirable than what was considered ideal.

Hizashi adjusted the magnets of his cochlears, allowing a few moments of dimmed respite in each ear as he did. Glancing down at his husband, recognising that look in his eye that told him he was being appraised like a piece of fine art. That he was worth more than money, more than anything material. Hizashi watched as Shouta came to hold his ribcage. Resting his own hands on broad shoulders, tracing the silvered lines that lay there with a tenderness that could make someone cry.

Shouta rubbed his thumbs over the bump of Hizashi’s lower ribs. Finger’s drumming against soft skin as the traced the grooves of faded stretch marks and a few raised horizontal lines. Taking hold of the blonde’s bicep, Shouta lifted it up into the air, leaning forward to kiss the side of his husband's ribcage. Doing his best not to attack the supple skin with his stubble, lest he be accused of attempted murder by tickling. Hizashi squirmed slightly in his hold, each feather light kiss a new form of sickeningly adorable torture.

Lowering the other’s arm, Shouta ran his hands down it, lifting Hizashi’s wrist to his mouth in question. A nod. Making an invisible bracelet of kisses around the joint, the dark haired man sucked lightly on the skin beside his husband's pulse point. Lathing a tongue over the reddened skin, smushing his lips against it in a form of raw affection.

“I think I'm ready now, but uh-” Shouta carefully lowered Hizashi’s hand, “could you also, perhaps, get me ready?”

“Ready for what, starling?” Hizashi tilted his head innocently, hair falling like a silk curtain behind him.

“Even in these dire times, you tease me?”

“I would never pass up on the opportunity.” A sinful smile. “My favourite pastime is making you blush.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. Now, pretty boy, what is it you want?”

Shouta turned his head away, looking at the duvet, “Can you finger me while you-, you know...” Hands coming to cover his face, “I need you in me, soon. I feel like I'm going insane.”

“Are you comfortable like that? Or do you want to lie down a bit?”

Shouta leant backwards, laying his upper body down before wiggling his hips down the bed slightly, stilling, adjusting again.

“All good?”

“Mmh.” He nodded.

Hizashi reached over to his nightstand, tossing the bottle of lube underneath himself onto the bed. Picking up one of the foil squares, placing it down next to the lube on the duvet. Settling back in the gap between Shouta’s residual limb and his leg, Hizashi clicked open the lube, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. Pressing the lid of the bottle onto his husband's thigh to close it, the blonde carefully lowered himself onto his stomach, inspecting his glistening fingers to ensure they were properly coated.

Trailing a hand up his lover's inner thigh, fingers drumming at the crease of a hip, petting the wicked up wiry curls. Hizashi gently held the base of his husband’s cock, the skin sticky with sweat but still slick with lube from his prior ministrations. Tapping Shouta a few times, waiting till his head, with all of its mused dark curls, lifted from the pillow he rested on. Hizashi didn't even need to ask the question that was sitting on his tongue, Shouta nodded, settling a hand in flaxen hair.

Hizashi licked a stripe up his lover's dick, sucking lightly at the tip, running his tongue over the slit. Slowly taking Shouta’s cock into his mouth, he took a steadying breath through his nose, enjoying the warm weight against his tongue. Stroking a gentle praise onto his lover's left hip, Hizashi inched further, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up slightly as the arched bridge of his nose pressed into his husband's pelvis.

He trailed his slicked fingers up Shouta's inner thigh. A thin line of lubricant drawn onto marred skin like the seam on old fashioned tights. Hizashi felt the ebony haired man twitch in his mouth as he stroked his index finger against his perineum. Softly pushing against a muscular thigh asking for them to be opened wider.

Hizashi tapped Shouta three times. A groan from above him, face flushing further at the sight of the blonde looking up at him, lips stretched around his dick. A single tug to his hair all the permission he needed. Hizashi shallowly slipped a finger into his lover’s hole. Stroking the other’s rim as he began to move his head. Easing his finger further into Shouta, thrusting it slowly, pressing on inner walls as he did.

Shouta’s breath caught in his chest with each drag of his husband's hot mouth over his cock. The itch and tickle of the fine hairs of his adorable mustache against his groin was maddening. The blonde's small grunts of effort eliciting shivers that made his thighs tremble. Trying to spread wider despite every instinct that was telling them to close.

Shouta wheezed as another finger began to push into him. A tender press to his prostate resembling white hot heat in his gut. Sensations spiked from tens to hundreds. The long sucks of his dick determined to send him to another dimension. A strong arm trying to hold his jumping hips down. Arms thrashing about as the dark haired man writhed on the duvet cover.

“‘Zashi, I’m-, it's so much, ha,” Shouta tugged on fine strands of hair, “get off- I’m cumming.”

Hizashi squinted. A challenge.

“No. Hizashi.”

A low hum sent Shouta over the edge. His lower back pitching further off the mattress. Moaning loudly. He swore his eye rolled so far back in his head he could see his brain. Hizashi’s mouth continued moving around his already re-hardening dick. Small swallows that granted mild pleasure as a third finger slipped into his hole. Rocking gently, a mild stretch as they splayed, each caress of his prostate causing an avalanche of sounds.

Shouta gripped a hank of blonde hair, wrenching his husband off his dick. Loosening his grip slightly at the small wince and flash of pain in the other’s eyes. Lifting his shoulders off the bed, Shouta pulled Hizahsi closer to him, tilting his head as their lips met. The taste of his own release entered his mouth as a tongue lathed at his bottom lip. His lover’s lips muffling the huffed breaths and mewls that left him as spindly fingers worked away at his inner walls.

“I… ah… I sound like a f- ah… fucking whore.” Shouta stuttered.

“You. Sound. Gorgeous.” Hizashi punctuated his words with firm kisses to Shouta’s mouth.

“Need you.”

“You already hav-”

“Hizashi. Now is not the time to tease. Get your dick inside me. Now.”

“Ok ok.”

Hizashi pushed his husband's upper body to lay back down. A slight squelch sounded as he slowly removed his fingers from Shouta’s hole, listening to him whine as his hips pressed downwards, trying desperately to keep his fingers in. Snagging a clean towel that was wedged between the headboard and the wall, Hizashi wiped his hands free of any leftover lube. He pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed, draping the towel over it, helping his lover to lift his hips as he slid it underneath him.

Locating the foil of the condom, Hizashi opened it, rolling the slippery ring onto his cock with a frustrated breath. Squeezing another helping of lube onto his hand, ensuring his dick was properly slicked, shuffling, a little awkwardly, into the space in between Shouta’s thighs again. Placing his leg over his shoulder, Hizashi lined up with his hole, head barely resting on the other’s rim.

Hizashi took a breath, “Am I go-”

“Just fuck me already!” Shouta interrupted, head snapping up to look at the blonde. “You have my explicit permission to proceed with reckless abandon.”

“Okay! Jesus! I don't want to hurt you.”

Hizashi pressed his hips forwards. Hands firmly holding his husband’s hips as he inched their pelvises together. Quiet curses floated from the man beneath him. Blonde baby hairs stuck to his forehead. A bead of sweat falling onto the left lens of his glasses. His own voice joined the chorus of groans and stuttered breaths as Shouta’s walls squeezed his dick tightly. Grinding small circles against the dark haired man as their hips finally joined.

Rocking shallowly at first, Hizashi gave his lover’s body no chance to adapt to his length. Floating his hands upwards, the blonde traced a dull nail around an areola, both men gasping at different sensations as Shouta’s hips bucked. Hizashi began thrusting faster, pinching budded nipples with cold fingertips, the leg over his shoulder tensing as it tried to pull him closer.

Shouta desperately pushed his hips down to meet his husbands. The drag of the other’s dick against his walls just right. Each jab to his prostate sends sparks though his nervous system. A mean pinch to a nipple causing his upper back to arch off the bed to meet the touch with a punched shout.

Reaching up, Shouta managed to grab hold of the ends of Hizashi’s hair, tugging in what he thought was a light manner. A shaking groan from his husband proved otherwise. Hizashi’s face was flushed with a beautiful shade of exertion. Pupils blown wide with euphoria. Climbing his hand up the silky strands, landing on the back of the other’s head, pulling him upwards. The mild burn of his hamstring was worth seeing his lover’s freckles while his lithe hands worked pure ecstasy into his chest.

Shouta let out a weak cry as one of Hizashi’s hands paused in its ministrations to wrap around his leaking cock. Each stroke timed with the meeting of their hips. Shouta felt like his skin was on fire. As though an army of ants had decided to make their new home atop his body, hundreds of thousands of tiny feet pattering against his skin, each step a threat to bite if he dared writhe under them.

Hizashi snapped his pelvis forward, struggling to hit his lover’s prostate consistently with only one hand remotely near the other’s hips. A few breathless apologies as he retracted his other hand from the dark curls that covered his husband’s chest. Gripping Shouta’s hip, muscles jumping at the contact, Hizashi thrusted mercilessly into his hole. The lewd slaps of skin on skin growing louder.

Each twist of Hizashi’s hand over his dick was driving Shouta closer and closer to orgasm. Each tug he administered to the blonde’s hair caused the most delightful gasps. The pressure building in his abdomen was unbearable. Cringing as a bead of sweat fell onto his stomach off his husband’s nose. Delicate fingers swiping the moisture across his skin, tracing patterns into the dark trail of hair down to the base of his cock. Shouta’s teeth clacked audibly as he attempted to speak. Mouth gaping as his lover nailed his prostate with shocking accuracy.

“M- mark me.” Shouta said between gasps.

Hizashi sifted Shouta’s leg onto his hip from where it rested on his shoulder. “Where and how?” He asked, leaning their chests closer together as he slowed his pace to allow the other to think.

“Chest, shoulders, neck within reason.” A breath, “Hickies? A few bites? Only if you’re comfortable?”

“Anything for you.”

Hizashi’s hand hadn't stopped its cruel pleasuring. Picking back up his rhythm, he took Shouta’s right arm, licking the skin of wrist before sucking at its pulse point. The pitiful keen of the man beneath him, as his teeth nipped at skin, was something he knew he could never tire of hearing. Even if he was only granted the chance to hear it every so often. Placing a kiss to the reddened skin, Hizashi lowered his husband's wrist, mouthing at his shoulder before sealing his lips to the salty skin.

The curly haired man twitched as his skin was assaulted with affection. Each pull threatening to steal his soul from his chest. As though his breath was being taken directly from his lungs before he’d even had the chance to take in said breath. Any remaining shred of coherence left Shouta completely reduced to a babbling puddle of praise. The scrape of teeth against his collar bone, a just reason to shudder. A warm tongue lathing up the column of his neck accompanied by a satisfied hum.

Tilting his head to the side, Shouta granted his husband access to the side of his neck. Feeling lips settle where the skin of his neck and shoulders meet. A gentle suck. A hesitant nibble. Entirely unprepared for the hard press of enamel. Body seizing up as sharp canines sank into his skin with a careful amount of pressure. Not enough as to break the skin, but enough to leave pink marks that would develop into hues of purples and yellows before fading away entirely.

Shouta’s vision whited out briefly as he came. Desperately pawing at Hizashi’s body as the blonde continued to fuck him through his orgasm. The hand on his dick was suddenly all too much. The drag of Hizashi’s cock inside him was sickening. Dark spots were dancing in his vision. His breath was coming far too quick and way too shallow. Fingers twitching as they tried to grab at any of his husband's limbs, to click together, to do anything at all. His arms were heavy as lead. The few frantic shallow thrusts Hizashi gave as he orgasamed were the final straw.

Hizashi breathed against his lover’s neck. Slightly confused as Shouta’s leg fell off his hip with a muted thud onto the duvet cover. Placing careful kisses to the slowly rising indents his teeth had left. Shouta was so still. The fountain of praise had fallen silent. His breath was so quiet that Hizashi was struggling to hear it even though his ear was right next to his face. Finding the warmth of Shouta’s palm with the tips of his fingers, Hizashi threaded their fingers together.

A long squeeze.

A beat.

Another few seconds of silence.

Fingers remained uncurled and lifeless.

Hizashi propped himself up with his other hand. A hot flush of concern rushing through his veins as he took in his husband's deathly stillness. The white of his eye showed behind a half lidded eyelid. His parted mouth. Face free of any tension. The movement of his chest was so small Hizashi wasn't entirely sure he was breathing.

Pressing his fingers into the artery in Shouta’s neck. Staring intensely at the clock on the nightstand as he counted the crawling beats of his lover’s heart.

Hizashi moved his hand to hover over Shouta’s mouth and nose, quickly calculating, "Forty two? No fucking way.”

A soft breath fluttered over Hizashi’s palm, dampening it with moisture. Shouta was breathing.

“Okay. Jesus christ. What the fuck do I do?” Hizashi cursed as he looked down between their bodies. A telling press against his stomach. “You’re still hard? Shit, man.” He addressed his husband's unconscious form, disturbed by the lack of response despite knowing Shouta was out cold.

Hizashi pushed himself more upright, a stroke of discomfort pulsing through him as he slipped his softened dick out of his lover, knotting off the condom before tossing it into the trash. Reaching for the wipes he knew were somewhere near the head of the bed, he opened the crinkly plastic packaging, tugging a few out. He meticulously cleaned his husband’s stomach and pelvis. Doing his best to get coarse pubes as clean as possible without the assistance of a shower or bath.

Shouta twitched under Hizashi’s touch. A few quiet huffs as a wet wipe was softly dragged up his cock. Hizashi tossed the soiled wipes into the trash, a few landing defiantly beside the bin, another handful joining them as he quickly cleaned himself off. Sitting back on his heels, the blonde stared at the prone man in front of him, conflicted and confused.

He’d been told, nay, commanded, at first, to continue fucking the living daylight out of his husband in the event he did pass out. Guilt crawled into Hizashi’s chest. Heavy and uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth as he brought a hand to his lips in consideration. He’d been given clear, explicit consent. So why was this so difficult? What was stopping him from fulfilling his lover’s ask?

Hizashi slapped his palm to his forehead a few times, pushing up his glasses before muttering, “Fuck it.”

Climbing up the bed, Hizashi lifted Shouta’s upper body up, squeezing himself into the gap between his husband’s body and the headboard. He reached for the discarded bottle of lube, applying a generous amount to his hand before clicking the cap shut, leaving the bottle to the black hole of their twisted bedsheets. Curls of hair ticked his chest, the warmth of his lover’s back seeped into his sweat cooled skin, burying his face into the crown of the other’s head. Breathing in the scent of Shouta’s hair in an attempt to get his frantically beating heart under control.

“I’m gonna touch you now.” Hizashi’s voice quivered as he murmured into the silence of the room. “I really don't want to do this. I’m so scared.”

Hizashi looked at his glistening hand. A stuttered breath as he noticed the orange streaks of the setting sun filtering in through their blinds. The dead weight of his husband's limp body against his own was chilling. Leaning slightly around Shouta’s torso, Hizashi delicately wrapped his hand around his lover’s dick, a sighed breath of air pushing hair against his face.

It was so quiet.

Hizashi could hear the traffic on the road. The distorted fluttering of leaves as the wind shook branches for all their worth. The squelch of his hand on his husband’s dick was obscene. He swore if their neighbor so much as placed an ear remotely close to one of their walls, they’d be able to hear the depraved acts being committed in their cozy bedroom.

It felt so wrong to do this to Shouta. Hizashi felt physically ill. Like he was committing an egregious act of violence against the person he adored most in this world. Stopping would be a betrayal. Continuing felt morally wrong. This isn't how sex with Shouta is supposed to be and it terrifies him down to the marrow of his bones.

Hizashi’s teeth ache as his thoughts race. His breath is not the only one coming in quickly and leaving just as swiftly. The blonde could feel each rumble of sound in his lover’s neck. Peppering apologetic kisses to scar covered shoulders. Confused as he came across dripping spots of water. Unaware of the tears that brimmed his waterline.

Letting the hand around Shouta’s dick fall onto his left thigh, Hizashi hiccuped in uneven breaths as his unconscious lover whined at the sudden loss of contact.

A weak whisper, “Red.”

Hizashi’s head thudded into the wood of their bedframe with a hollow sound. A strangled garble of words tangled like brambles in his throat. Chest rising and falling rapidly as clipped wails tried to sound in between gasped breaths. The weight of everything that he’d just done, had failed to do, came crashing down, knocking his thoughts whichever way.

Hizashi was a spectator in his own flesh, fingers pressing against closed eyes, the cold bite of the metal of his glasses digging into said fingers. He knew he was hyperventilating. He knew he was weeping. He could feel each aching breath that tried to fill his exhausted lungs. The ringing of the quiet kept getting louder.

He frantically wriggled himself out of the gap he’d created between his husband's body and the headboard. Taking due care to ensure his lover was carefully laid down as the physical support of his body moved. The lens of his left glasses was smudged with lube. His face surely was too.

Hizashi swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting them firmly on the floor. Taking off his blurred glasses. The world became slightly more bearable as its intricacies faded into fuzz. Plucking off his cochlears. Plunging the world into a basin of water. Muffled with only the eternal whistle to keep him company. Placing them into their charging bay.

Digging his elbows into his knees. Hizashi cradled his face with his hands. Forcing himself to take in deep breaths. Willing his mind to count the seconds of his breaths. Ignoring his urge to run. From what he was running from? He didn't know. His instinct itched at his side like a silver ant bite. Stinging painfully. Where was his support? His rationality? His starling when he needed him most? Unconscious.

Buried thoughts started to claw at their dirt coffins from where they’d been laid to rest. Hizashi became acutely aware of his pitiful condition. The scars that begged to be opened again. Each emotion, turned up to a thousand, unwillingly granted free reign to bash into every inch of his skull. When had he become so weak? So weak that his own thoughts had the ability to bully him into an inconsolable wreck.

Hizashi raked his nails up his thighs. Trying to scratch an itch he knows he shouldn't. That specific itch that wouldn't be satisfied until he’d bled a river of red. Till his skin ached as it tried to repair itself as he refused to let it.

“We’ve been clean for twenty one years.” Hizahsi muttered to himself, “I am not relapsing because of this.”

Standing, he pulled on his discarded neon green shorts, nails digging into the skin of his forearms as he walked out of their bedroom. Hizashi knew it wasn't wise to leave Shouta alone while he was unconscious, but if he didn't do something, Shouta wouldn't have a husband to wake up to. The cold tile of the hallway, a mild shock, bit pleasantly into his feet, grounding him slightly.

Hizashi yanked open the fridge with just a little too much force. The bright fluorescent light blinded him slightly as he bent close to the inside of the door. Squinting the blurry objects into some semblance of recognisability. His fingers glanced over a yellow blob, grasping it, bringing it intensely close to his face. Definitely smelt like citrus. When did they use half of a lemon recently? Doesn't matter.

Halved lemon in hand, the blonde shut the fridge door, free hand finding the cold faux marble countertop. Feeling for the edge of the sink, leaning over it as he bit into the tough skin of the lemon. Fighting the urge to spit the sour flesh out of his mouth. Banging a fist onto the countertop, Hizashi forced himself to bite another section of the yellow fruit, focusing on the putrid taste of pure unfiltered citrus.

Sucking the tart juice out of the new segment of flesh, he twisted the lemon, holding the flesh between his teeth as he found the fridge again. Pulling open the freezer. The cold gust refreshing on his tear sodden face. Extracting a handful of icecubes from their plastic trays, Hizashi shut the freezer door with his elbow, wandering back over to the sink. Flicking on the tap with his free hand, adjusting the temperature to something just over comfortably hot.

Taking another sour bite of the lemon, Hizashi shoved his unoccupied hand under the running water. Breathing deeply though his nose, eyes fluttering shut. The tartness of the lemon had helped to shock his mind partially out of its unhelpful spiral. The slowly melting icecube in his hand dripped in between his fingers, down the back of his hand, snaking droplets down to his elbow before they fell silently to the floor. Hizashi could feel his pulse in his submerged hand. The heat of the water reminded him of how his lover’s hands always warmed his.

Hizashi stood in the kitchen, unmoving, barely cognisant of the sound of running water. Feeling his hands complain about the extreme conditions he’d placed them under. His teeth ached horribly from the citrus and skin he’d forced them to chew but never swallow. Limbs twitching uncontrollably at random intervals. A jerk of his head. An eyebrow. A lip.

Slowly realising he’d begun to hum. The vibration of his own vocal chords resonated in his skull. A weak chuckle as the first non-malevolent thoughts began to reclaim his mind.

‘We’re going to have to tell our therapist about this. We’ve barely started the trauma stuff for that period of our life yet. But look at us, we’re handling it decently! Nineteen year old me would be so proud of me.’

Hizashi spat the chewed lemon into the sink, turning down the temperature of the water so he could gather some in his hand to rinse out his mouth. The cubes of ice had now melted into pebbles, a sizable puddle of water on the floor next to his foot from where the water had dripped down his arm and off his elbow. Swishing the lukewarm water around his mouth, hoping to get all the pith unstuck from between his teeth, he turned off the tap. A lighthearted salute to the tiny chips of ice and bitten up lemon that sat discarded in the sink alongside the various still defrosting packages of food from earlier in the day.

The itching and aching sensations that made him crave had finally crawled back into their graves. A refreshing breath filled his lungs as he leant on the faux marble countertop. Spotting the red swirl of what Hizashi assumed was a teatowel, he threw it onto the floor, watching the red deepen as it soaked up the evidence of his near crime. Pushing the soggy cloth around with his foot, he grabbed the fabric with his toes, flicking it into the air to catch it.

Feeling for a dry part of the towel, Hizashi wiped his face carefully, dabbing at his own cheeks with the loving care of a mother tending to their child's first scratched knee. Placing the cloth to dry over the edge of the sink, he turned around to the kitchen island, hoisting himself onto the cold countertop. Dusting off his feet before pulling them up onto the surface, toes gripping the rounded edge as he hugged his knees to his chest, arms wrapping over shins to hold calves.

Hizashi breathed in through his nose. Trying to focus on feeling the breath. Exhaling it slowly through his mouth. Hands gently tapping the skin of his calves. Calling on figures that protected and soothed the heavy feeling that had sunk into his veins. Replenishing each blood cell with the gift of oxygen. Giving his body the time it needed to settle and calm.

The sun had set completely at some point. The singular window of their living space, tulle drapery and heavy curtains drawn aside, allowed the soft moonlight to illuminate the space. Much kinder on Hizashi’s blurred eyes compared to the white light of the fridge. Letting out a long sigh, the blonde looked wistfully towards the window. Not that he could see much. Only knowing the gate of their apartment complex lay outside after a short strip of grass, beyond was pavements and roads.

Something shifted in the darkness of the short corridor to their bedroom. A distorted sound that sounded like human speech. A name even. Hizashi turned his head to squint into the darkness. A pale hand swished into the light against a wall.

‘Hey,’ Hizashi signed.

Shouta shuffled into the light, crutches clicking on the tile, a blanket wrapped around his waist, jankily signing back, ‘Are you okay?’

Hizashi shrugged, ‘Not really. No.’

‘What’s wrong?’

Hizashi waited until Shouta had come to rest at the edge of the counter top, looking up at him, he didn't have the movements to be able to sign what he needed to explain.

“It came back.” A moment of weighted eye contact, “The ideation. The itch.” Hizashi looked between his chest and his legs, frowning, “I sort of freaked out after you passed out. Are you okay? I should have asked that sooner, I’m sor-”

“I am fine.” Resting his crutches against the kitchen island, Shouta placed his hands over boney ankles, asking the blonde to come to the edge of the counter, before wrapping his arms around his waist in a tight hug. “How on earth is there lube on your face?”

“I tried to get you off. Again.”

“Where are your glasses?”

“Covered in lube on the nightstand.”

“I see. Uhm- Have you managed to contain it, for now?”

Hizashi pouted, “Yeah. I hate that I'm actually going to have to talk to someone about it, though. Someone who isn't you, I mean.”

“You mean a licensed professional?”

“Obviously.”

Shouta took a deep breath, “I’m not trying to upset you again, but I need to ask: how did you handle it?”

“Lemon. Ice. Hot water.” Hizashi’s response was clipped, “I’m a stubborn bitch and I’m not putting twenty one years to waste.”

“Sounds about right.”

Hizashi slid off the countertop, leaning his upper body into his husband’s, enjoying the, albeit sticky, warmth of his muscular arms. Allowing the dark haired man to sway them side to side. He carted his hands into the tangled curls that framed Shouta’s face, carefully coaxing the bigger snarls into more manageable knots, deft fingers preening the black strands into their unique form of wild submission.

“So,” Hizashi tried to start a coherent sentence, “it’s been how long since you were, uh. Oh my good lord, what’s that word?”

“Which word?”

“Y’know when you like- like. Both languages? Really?”

Shouta released his hold on Hizashi slightly so he could look at him. Severely confused.

“When you:” Hizashi mimes punching someone.

“Hit?”

“That’s it!” Hizashi points at Shouta like he’s just won a gameshow, “How long ago since you were hit with that quirk? Fucking finally, jesus.”

Shouta glances at the microwave, “Five and a half, maybe six, hours.”

“Shit.”

“I have a plan.”

“Do pray tell.”

“I had Nem bottle some of her quirk, don’t look at me like that, I know it's a little illegal, I’m not using it on other people. She offered it to me for when my insomnia is really bad.”

“So you’re just going to sedate yourself for the rest of the quirk?”

“That’s the plan.”

Hizashi handed Shouta his crutches, “You need to eat and drink.” Moving slowly towards their bedroom again, the miniscule click of crutches behind him, “And pee. You are not getting a UTI. Then we can sleep.”

Shouta’s muscles ached in a way they hadn't for many years. His abdomen is so damn tight. Even his hamstring was pulling in a way it hadn't since he first picked up tap. Now that Hizashi had mentioned it, his throat was dry and sandpaperish, a grating swallow reminding him how unpleasant having a dry tongue is. A dull ache had crept its way into his right shoulderblade, reaching towards the middle of his back and wrapping around his ribs.

Cold tile turned to beaten up carpet as the pair re-entered their bedroom. Hizashi gathered the various articles of clothing that had been discarded on the floor, dumping them into the wash basket that sat in the corner of the room. Settling his crutches back into their spot leant against his bedside table, Shouta sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to grab a full bottle of lukewarm water. A small ring of condensation had sunk into the carpet.

Tipping the water into the glass on his nightstand, the dark haired man filled the glass to just above three quarters full, capping the bottle and placing it down before grabbing the cordial that sat beside it. He watched the dark purple swirls distort the already warped image reflected in the glass, stirring it with a finger before taking greedy gulps of the sweetened liquid. Coughing as he failed to breathe at the right time. Hizashi’s hand rubbed at his back, tapping gently, a quiet reprimand to drink slower.

Hizashi swiped a pair of gel sachets from the floor, landing on the duvet next to his husband with a bounce, offering him the choice between the two flavours. The weight of the jelly packets lightened as one of the thick plastic sachets was taken from his hand. His ebony haired lover leant backwards slightly, a hand brushing against Hizashi’s lower back as Shouta eased the blonde ends of hair out from under their owners ass.

‘Thank you.’ Hizashi signed as the other sat up.

‘Didn't look,’ Shouta paused before finger spelling, ‘comfortable.’

Hizashi pushing up his now, non-lubed covered glasses, he copied the spelling, showing his husband the related gesture. Smiling fondly as he watched the click of realisation in Shouta’s eye. A pouty huff had him giggling as he opened his sachet, putting the mouthpiece to his mouth as he began to roll the bottom of the packaging.

Shouta chewed on the artificial taste of the strawberry jelly. He detests artificial strawberry, but it’s well worth it to see his lover give his signature jig at the taste of rock melon jelly. Blonde hair swishing side to side as he shook his head happily. Shouta gnawed at the hard plastic mouthpiece after demolishing the sachet with a scary efficiency. Not previously realising how hungry he was.

Tossing the emptied packaging into the bin, he grabbed his crutches, pushing up onto his foot from the bed. Snagging a pair of boxers from his drawer as he pittered over to their bathroom. Decidedly ignoring the ache of need that pulled in his stomach, embers still glowing brightly despite the dousing of metaphorical water Hizashi had thrown over him.

Resting his crutches against the edge of the sink, Shouta sat down onto the toilet, leaning forward to ease the clean pair of boxers up his leg and residual limb. He preemptively grimaced as he dried himself off, forearms leaning onto the edge of the sink as he washed his hands. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, he squinted, hand floating up to touch the imprint of his husband's teeth in between the base of his neck and his shoulder.

After dousing his face with water and brushing his teeth, Shouta shuffled back into their bedroom, pausing in the bathroom doorframe to use the end of his crutch to shift the duvet cover that had been chucked, basketball style, into their washbasket. The ends of the fabric had come unwound from their neat bundle, blocking the doorway. Gracelessly maneuvering past the minor obstruction, Shouta flopped onto pulled back bedsheets. Pillows thoughtfully fluffed and laid down.

Hizashi skirted around the corner of their bedframe, taking his lover's crutches from him, resting them carefully in their designated spot. He placed a kiss on Shouta's forehead as he pulled the flat sheet and cover-less duvet over his body. Lifting Kitty, the weighted cat plush, from floor jail, where Hizashi had covered her with a soft blanket –as was standard practice when he and Shouta got freaky– he shifted his husband's arm so he could hold her to his chest.

The blonde disappeared for a short while into the bathroom. His departure allowed Shouta to realise that the neon green shorts had been replaced for the more comfortable of Hizashi’s alarmingly big collection of underwear. Rummaging in his drawer, he found the spray bottle of Nemuri’s quirk and the small hand towel he kept.

Reading the, purple glitter pen, instructions Nem had written onto the bottle, Shouta mentally prepared himself to be completely out of it for a few hours. He would be completely defenseless once he breathed in the quirk. Because as any other hero knew: trying to wake anyone from Nemuri’s quirk before it had run its course was next to impossible. Hizashi would be his sole source of protection.

“Is that it?” Hizashi appeared in the doorway, flicking off the bathroom light and shutting the door.

“Yeah.” Shouta looked at the small bottle in his hand, rolling it back and forth in his palm.

“Do you need anything else? Meds? Food?”

“No, just you, songbird.”

Shouta reached to pull back Hizashi’s side of the bedsheets. Waiting for lithe legs to slip under them before flicking the sheets over his husband's hips. A clatter of glasses on the side table. He turned off the warm lamp. Flooding the room with the gentle caress of the night. Hizashi wiggled closer to him. The solid press of the blonde’s chest into his back was reassuring. Uncapping the lid of the spray bottle, Shouta spritzed the small cloth, placing the bottle on the night stand as he placed the cloth over his nose and mouth. The sickeningly sweet smell of Nemuri’s quirk pulled at the corners of his eye as he took deep breaths.

“‘Zashi? There is one thing I need.” Shouta’s words slurred slightly.

“What’s that?”

“Will you sing me that one english lullaby you love?”

“Always, starling.”

Hizashi’s voice became water logged in Shouta’s ears. He could feel each syllable vibrating against his back. The calming expansion of the blonde’s ribcage as he took a breath mid verse.

“Hush little baby, don't you cry, Im’a buy a diamond ring for ya’, I’ll sing for ya’ and I promise everythin’s gonna’ be alright.”