Work Text:
Hitoshi might’ve had ulterior motives when he updated the group chat about his impending return home.
He’d just landed from a weeks-long missive in Norway. Along the chilly western coast he’d spent most of his time focused on work and parsing the vastly different language he’d had to learn on such short notice. As usual, he’d gone alone and - although he got along well with the other heroes hired - loneliness crept up on him quicker than he expected.
Now, upon his return, he just…wanted to see a familiar face. And well, Denki - who’d been the first to answer - Denki was a face he was very familiar with.
He was genuinely shocked it had been Denki who answered. Denki was a limelight hero who worked mostly day shifts - wasn’t he tired?
Based off their messaging history, he knew that sometimes Denki stayed up late and wasn’t the most responsible about his sleep schedule, but - Hitoshi checked his phone’s watch - four in the morning seemed to be pushing it.
He opened the private messages between Denki and himself, wincing at the date at the top. There was a ‘good luck!!!!’ message from right before he’d left, followed by a string of random updates - photos of stray cats and meals, selfies, group selfies, random thoughts - that gradually petered off, probably as Denki realized this particular mission required him to be off the grid.
He hearted a few of them, then typed out a new message.
What are you still doing up?
The response was quick - Denki was a fast typer.
wouldn’t you like to know ;)
Three dots appeared then disappeared several times. Then,
gaming lol
Seriously…
Dereliction of duty
hey!!!! it's my day off tmrw
don’t be hard on me hitoshi:(
Sure it is
What's the game?
His phone started vibrating, the selfie Denki had taken for his contact photo after he got his ears pierced (“it needs to be updated, man!”) flashed on his screen.
He picked up quickly, slumping near one of the pillars of the waiting area.
“Sorry, driving now, so we gotta do this the old-fashioned way.” Denki’s voice immediately chattered through, tinny and a little breathier than usual.
“No problem.” Hitoshi peered over his shoulder for eavesdroppers; a habit of the type of work he’d been up to. This late - early? - in the day, the airport was nearly desolate. It helped he was returning on an off-holiday weekday, too.
Denki never let silence linger.
“I’ve been playing Shiren the Wanderer— it’s so hard! But after playing so long, I’ve gotta see it through, y’know? Ah—!” He’d gasped at the end, voice pitching upward.
“Denki?” Hitoshi straightened, alarmed. “Everything okay?”
“S-sorry, went too fast over a speed bump.” Denki rushed out with an odd, halting chuckle Hitoshi only heard when he was up to something.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking on the phone while driving…”
“Nooo, nonono. I got this!” Denki pressed on, dodging Hitoshi’s warning by keeping the conversation moving. He could be tricky when he wanted to.
“Anyway— Shiren, it’s actually based off Kogarashi Monjiro— you know who that is? It’s a pre-quirk era TV character, and…”
Hitoshi leaned against the pillar, enjoying the sound of Denki’s voice. It was always easy to settle into conversations with Denki. He’d missed…his voice. That's it. That's all. Right.
With Denki talking his ear off, in no time at all the familiar car pulled up.
A gaudy coupe of some sort, it was a bright yellow monstrosity that stood out like a sore thumb. It was an EV, though (of course, Denki could just power his own vehicle, how handy…), so it whirred quietly on its approach.
Hitoshi shouldered his carry-on and rolled his baggage over. One of the gull-winged doors swung upward, revealing the customized interior as Hitoshi remembered it. In all it’s heinous glory. Leopard print upholstery, fuzzy dice and all.
Denki’s head popped into view, leaning over the center console. His hair wasn’t hair-sprayed and spiked to hell, only tousled and with some staticky flyaways, softening his features. He wore one of his oversized tees - a common feature for his sleepwear, Hitoshi knew - dark colored, with a band logo he didn’t recognize emblazoned on the front. He could see his collarbone peak out from where the loose neckline hung off him.
“Hey!” Denki called out, flashing one of his megawatt smiles.
“…Hey,” Hitoshi breathed, fidgeting with one of the tags the airport had stuck on his spinner suitcase. “Uh…” He was reminded how little storage space - or space at all - Denki’s car provided. They stared at each other a moment, both lost, taking in the changes and familiarities of one another, before Denki jolted.
“Whoops— I got ya’,” apparently realizing the same thing, he adjusted the passenger seat forward enough that Hitoshi had room to shove his luggage in the narrow storage area behind the front seats. Denki didn’t usually chauffeur people, so he hadn’t bothered getting a car with more space or seating. He only brought his car out for the theatrics, if he was trying to impress someone.
When the passenger chair was pushed back into place, Hitoshi settled in.
A little out of it from the jet lag, he’d seemingly forgotten basic manners. “Thanks for…” He trailed off, noticing Denki wasn’t pulling out of the terminal onto the expressway. Instead, he was turning in the direction of the nearby parking lot. “Where are you going?”
“Little detour,” Denki didn’t elaborate, easily finding a parking spot in the mostly-deserted airport.
Denki cut the ignition.
Not a moment lost, he crawled over the center console, squeezing himself onto Hitoshi’s lap. Eyes wide and beseeching.
“No kiss?”
Well.
Hitoshi couldn’t very well deny his pouting.
“Really…” he sighed, like it was a big ask, but hid his traitorous little smile by closing the distance between them.
He could taste the chapstick Denki always put on before bed - his quirk tended to dry his skin out - the tangy taste sweet and familiar. Denki hummed into the kiss, his hands resting on the juncture of Hitoshi’s neck and shoulder.
It was never just a kiss with Denki, though. It deepened quickly, Denki’s hands roamed lower and he started squirming, grinding down on his lap.
Hitoshi suddenly felt wide awake.
“Mmn?" Then Denki— stopped, abruptly. He inched back, only a breath’s distance between them, running his thumb over Hitoshi’s pouty lower lip. “What’s up with this?”
Hitoshi’s tongue trailed over the spot. Denki’s eyes tracked the movement.
“Got socked in the mouth.”
Denki simpered. “Work related, or just ‘cause of your delightful personality?”
Smart ass. Hitoshi bucked his hips in retaliation, relishing in the choked-off little moan he got in response.
“Gimme—“ Denki slumped against him, eyes bright. “Gimme their name and address.”
“You’re going to travel all the way to Europe to tell them off?”
“Yup. I'll do you one better - a friendly tase handshake, s’all…Maybe I’ll shock them right where they punched you— this one’s for Nighthide.” One of his hands untangled from Hitoshi, his quirk coming to life at his fingertips with a snap and fleeting shock of light. “Eye for an eye, busted lip for a busted lip or whatever the saying is.”
Hitoshi hissed out a laugh through his teeth, shaking his head.
“Don’t do that. It barely hurt.”
“Ooh, tough guy.” Denki whistled low. He looked like he was ready to close the distance again, but perked up instead, nearly hitting his head on the low, sloping roof of his car.
“Careful,” Hitoshi murmured, steadying Denki back down, the friction offering some relief.
“Did’ya bring me back anything? Or were you too busy nursing that fat lip?”
He had. But now his focus had narrowed down to making Denki remember how much he should've missed him.
“You crawled over here to ask that?”
“I’m multitasking…!” With a laugh, Denki leaned back against the glove compartment, pressing his hand where the fabric was straining obscenely against Hitoshi’s sweatpants.
Another car approached and made a U-turn, high beams spotlighting them for a moment. Catching the blush high on Denki’s cheeks, the way his pupils had already eclipsed his sun-colored eyes.
Denki’s head snapped around, rubbernecking the direction the car drove off in. Hitoshi had grown so accustom to Denki’s undivided attention - maybe it had become greed. He grabbed him by his jaw, turning his head back to face him.
Squinting, Hitoshi glanced out the window himself, assuring they were alone. It was a reminder at how easily they could be caught - how precariously Denki was tightrope walking into a scandal. How quickly a tryst like this could become a trending topic, a drop in the charts, a hit to his career…what Denki was willing to risk. That his desperation for Hitoshi became the most important thing in the world. That Hitoshi became the most important thing in the world.
Was the risk worth it? Was he worth it…?
His train of thought derailed as Denki pressed his palm against him more insistently, feeling the wetness already pearling there.
“Goin’ commando?” Denki tsked, breaking through Hitoshi's spiraling. “Risky, risky.”
Denki’s hand drifted up, fingers skimming along the waistline of his sweats. Peering up through his lashes, eyebrows raised in question.
Hitoshi answered easily - he lifted his hips, helping Denki yank his sweatpants off. Halfway down his knees, he hissed at the chill in the air.
It wasn’t an agony he had to suffer long. Denki’s hand was quick to wrap around his cock. His hand was warm, thrumming slightly from the electricity that gravitated to his body. It felt heavenly, as always. Being deprived of his touch for so long only magnetized the feeling.
Wanting to return the favor, he unbuttoned Denki’s jeans, snorting at the cheeky LUCKY YOU printed on the inseam.
His jeans were tight at the top, so in one, unceremonious motion they peeled off along with his boxers. Denki shimmied out of them fully, letting them flop to the floor before crowding back in.
“How’re we—” They fell into another quick kiss. “…doing this?”
—and another. “Jus’ want you,” Denki murmured against the seam of his lips.
Hitoshi’s chest throbbed. “Lube?” His hand drifted down the curve of Denki’s spine, feeling where his shirt bunched at the waist.
Backlit by the orange and cyan glow of the car’s console, he looked like something otherworldly, summoned to test Hitoshi’s decency.
Denki wet his lips, his grin sharpening. His head gave an unconscious, tiny shake.
“No need.”
Hitoshi made a questioning sound, feeling wetness along Denki’s upper thighs, his asscheeks, his…
He felt something hard, nestled in Denki’s hole. He didn’t need to see it to know exactly what it was.
“Denki,” he couldn’t tell if he should be impressed or concerned. “You drove here like this?”
“Yeah, so now I can drive stick shift.” Hitoshi clicked his tongue at the bad joke, biting the inside of his cheek — he didn’t want to give Denki the benefit of laughing at that. “It’s fiiine. I was fine, nobody’s on the road right now. Don’t look at me like that.”
“You’re a menace,” to the world he meant, but to his sanity too. Denki, driving all this way, stuffed full and flushed all over…
Denki reached behind himself, pulling the plug out - too quickly - his face pinched in discomfort. He’d used too much lube - Hitoshi felt some leak out, wetting one of his thighs.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, stretching a hand down to recline the seat a fraction - just enough that the luggage behind them would allow. His other hand, with his fingers still shiny with lube, slicked his cock up.
Then they moved under Denki’s oversized tee, loose and easy to sneak his hands under. They found the divots of Denki’s ribcage, feeling the skin there already slick with sweat.
Denki reached between them, scooting forward enough to line Hitoshi up right where he wanted him.
“Hitoshi,” he sighed, stretching his name out, his voice like relief - like he was sinking into a warm bath instead of along the length of his cock. The excess lube made the slide easier, that maddening, tight heat bearing down on him.
Never one for patience, Denki did not take things slow. Fully seated, he squirmed in Hitoshi’s lap, panting. Hitoshi felt the goosebumps break out along his skin. One hand crept upward, feeling the hardened bud of a nipple, the small static snap from the metal of one of his piercings.
Denki pulled away again, Hitoshi’s hands falling to hold his lower waist instead. Denki leaned his weight towards the glove compartment, propping one hand on the seat and slapping the other against the window. He lifted his hips up and rolled them back down in a filthy serpentine motion. Up-down. Up-down. Pure enthusiasm leading him, his tempo sped up, fucking himself hard and fast on Hitoshi’s cock, not even letting his body fully catch up with the sweet agony he was putting it through.
The occasional plane passing overheard was drowned out by the sound of their hips meeting, his own frantic breathing, Denki’s staccato whines, the hum of electricity on Denki’s skin that followed him everywhere - that Hitoshi wasn’t only hearing now, but feeling. It snapped and clung to him, like even Denki’s quirk wanted him closer, closer, closer.
On an upward arc, Denki got a little too eager, rising too far, too quick - Hitoshi felt himself slip out, cock shiny and wet, twitching. He denied his own primal urge to fuck back inside, holding fast to Denki, preventing him from sinking back down.
The abrasive squeak of Denki’s hand losing purchase against the window was loud in the confined space, but they hardly noticed. He collapsed forward, barely catching himself from falling into Hitoshi. His hands scrambled, grabbing onto the headrest, propping himself back up, head snapping to look back to where they’d been joined with an affronted sound - always a spoiled brat, expecting immediate gratification no matter how many times Hitoshi tried to teach him.
Leaving Denki empty, he gripped the back of his upper thighs, spreading him. He felt Denki full-body shudder, desperate to be filled again.
He let him agonize, wanting him to beg for it.
Denki kept making whiny little sounds, tilting his hips to try and line them up again, expecting that would be what got him his way.
He smeared his cock between Denki’s thighs, letting his tip catch his rim a few times.
“Fuck! Please,” Denki wheedled, too needy tonight to act stubborn. “Please, please, please—!“ Good. He plunged back in without warning, gritting his teeth at the trembling, devastating moan it wrenched out of Denki.
“There you go,” he murmured, a little delirious himself. “That’s what you needed…”
Hitoshi planted his feet, snapping his hips up, pressing himself even deeper.
His whole body rocking with the motion, Denki’s tenuous hold gave out. Hitoshi’s arms wove around him, anchoring them to each other at every point of contact.
Tucking himself in the curve of his neck, Denki began sucking harsh, bruising hickeys there.
Hitoshi could tell he was close - when Denki’s mouth popped off his neck with a wet sound, the length of his body like a live wire, trembling and snapping little arcs of light.
“Hito—Hitoshi, wait, I’m gonna—” Even his voice shook. Hitoshi knew what was coming. The concern Denki always carried; forever nervous his power would be too much to handle, too hard to control. “I’m close, Hitoshi—!“
“I can handle it, Denki. You—“ his breath hitched, feeling Denki clamp tighter, like even his body knew they should stay locked together. “You know I c-can…!”
Just like Denki surrendered his full trust to Hitoshi, Hitoshi was happy to surrender his, too.
Electricity licked up Hitoshi’s body, his hair standing on end. His lips pressed to Denki’s ear, warming the metal of his piercing, his tenderness at odds with the brutal pace he’d set.
“Let go.”
Like his voice compelled it, like he was lost in his quirk's thrall, Denki’s body was obedient. His hold on Hitoshi tightened, limbs locking. He hummed with power, the car’s internal lights flickering on and off. With a drawn-out moan that fizzled out in the middle, his release smeared between them.
The final shock is what seized Hitoshi’s own orgasm out of him.
Every nerve ending pulled taut, his body flushing all over. The painful, soaring feeling of release. He nestled himself in as deep as he could go, flooding Denki with a bit-off groan.
The lights flickered off a final time, shrouding them in darkness. Even the neon glow of the dashboard had cut out.
His hips twitched up little jackrabbit thrusts, his core burning as they slumped back down against the seat.
Panting, they magnetized to each other, kissing languidly in the afterglow.
They stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, trying to catch their breath. The moment had stretched into no time and forever at once. Hitoshi felt himself soften, willing to stay like this for another eternity.
“Missed you…missed you so much…” Denki’s voice was distant. Hitoshi blushed, hoping the darkness obscured the nonsensical, virginal reaction he had to such a sweet admittance. It still threw him off balance.
Another car passed, the headlights blaring through the front window. A baggage cart rolled in the distance. The morning rush was fast approaching. They’d have to move soon, unless Denki wanted pictures of Hitoshi’s blurred-out cock buried in him displayed on every seedy tabloid in the country.
“Fuck…” Denki murmured under his breath as Hitoshi eased out. He weakly tightened around him a moment, enough awareness returning to him to tease.
“…Hey,” he exhaled, gulped, trying to relearn how to form words. His heart still hammering off-tempo in his chest - exciting a human defibrillator would do that, he supposed. “Turn around, lean over the—“ he helped maneuver Denki so he was draped sideways across the center console. “—yeah.”
As exhausted as he was, he liked marveling at his handiwork. And—
Denki’s ass arched lazily in the air.
— Denki liked showing off.
He watched greedily as his hole squeezed tight a moment then relaxed again, slick and loose. Well used. Denki shuddered as a bit dripped out - an obscene mixture of lube and cum - but Hitoshi was quick to cut off its trail, his thumb retracing it back where it belonged.
Hitoshi’s gaze caught the bright-colored plug Denki had thrown haphazardly onto the driver’s seat. Shiny with lube still, tempting an idea.
…An incredibly debauched idea - but Denki had started it.
He picked up the plug, dragging the tip up along the back of his thigh. Making the slow journey all the way up…
“…Okay?”
“Y-yeah, what the hell,” Denki’s head slumped down, his reddening shoulders raised up to his ears. It was always fun to figure out what got him flustered. “Go for it.”
He dipped the plug a fraction in, then pulled out - the push-pull of slowly, slowly (something Denki was allergic to) easing it in.
“Nng, fuckfuckfuck,” Denki chanted under his breath as the widest part stretched him, his back bowing into a deeper arch.
“Deep breath,” Hitoshi soothed a hand along his lower back, thumb rubbing into the dimples he had there. Not sure if he was comforting Denki for entirely selfless reasons. Scratch that. Knowing he wasn't. He wanted to see him take it, keep everything, be reminded of what they’d done entire drive back.
He needed to chill the fuck out.
The widest part slipped in, and the rest was an easy glide. Denki’s shoulders slumped in relief as the flared base fit snug against him, exhaling.
"For the sake of the upholstery." Hitoshi reasoned.
Denki snorted. "Yeah, ah—" His body hitched as he peered lover his shoulder, brow raised skeptically. "That's why. The upholstery you're always telling me you hate. Totally."
Hitoshi hummed in response, thumb running along the crease of one of Denki's thighs.
“Couldn’t save your hoodie though.” Denki snickered, tongue peeking out from between his teeth.
Hitoshi grimaced at the reminder, glancing down at the stain-dried cum.
He pushed down on the base of the plug so it pressed meanly against Denki’s prostate.
“A-ah! Quit it!”
“Hm. Nice way to get you to shut up.”
“And I’m the pervert—?”
Hitoshi cut him off again, twirling the plug, hoping his cum sunk in deeper.
“You are a pervert.”
“Y-yeah, well,” Denki flipped his cute little ass out of Hitoshi’s hold, leaning back on his hands - his body half in the drivers seat, half over the center console. “You’re the pervert that got with the pervert—so technically—“ he sucked in a breath, “who’s the bigger pervert?”
Hitoshi’s eyes trailed along Denki’s body. Bent legs swaying side to side. His thighs, still bare and spread out. His shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of his taut stomach, slick with sweat and smeared with cum. His pretty cock spent, lain off to one side, valiantly looking like it was trying to get hard again. Still trying to catch his breath, whole body shaking slightly. The bright end of the plug still visible, tempting. His asscheeks still an angry red. Hair frizzled. Eyes struggling to focus. Fucked out.
“…This is an asinine conversation.”
“Excuse you? My ass is a ten.” Hitoshi reached over to pinch one of his thighs, taunting him with their constant motion. “Ow!”
Denki leaned his head back so the scrawny line of his neck stretched up. Hitoshi watched his Adam’s apple bob, swallowing. His chest heaving.
Then he saw him wince, grabbing for his jeans and moving to fully sit in the driver’s seat. “Gimme a sec, I’ll get you home.”
Hitoshi snorted, pulling his own sweats up.
“Scoot over. You got lucky driving here but I’m not letting you drive back like that.”
“Man, your driving’s probably riskier.” Arching in the driver’s seat, Denki's top half pressed to the back rest and his hips fully lifted up to re-button his jeans
True enough—Hitoshi wasn’t the best driver. There was a reason he took the bus often and still relied on his bike to get him around.
“It’s fine… Nobody’s on the road, right?” He threw Denki’s careless words back at him, flashing a sharp smile. Denki probably saw his own brain with how hard he rolled his eyes in response. Still, he crawled back across the center console, half-kneeled on the passenger side floor as Hitoshi squeezed himself into the driver’s seat. Clumsily but effectively switching places.
“…Huh,” he had to recline the seat back a bit to make room for his longer legs. “That didn’t take much convincing.”
“I’m tired and sooooore,” Denki whined.
“And whose fault is that,” Hitoshi muttered, wondering what time it was now. “We could’ve been home now.” Home. As in - one place, for both of us. ‘We.’ It was a clumsy slip, but one Denki seemed too “tired and sore” to catch. Or comment on, at least. Hitoshi exhaled.
“It was a joint effort.” One of Denki’s eyes opened to squint at him. “And you shoved the medieval torture device back in me.”
Hitoshi snorted, glancing a second at Denki. “You can take it out whenever. I’ll even pull over.”
Denki remained suspiciously quiet for several moments. “Mmmno."
Some carnal pride lit up his chest. He doesn’t want to lose a drop of me, he thought, hysterically. Then, what’s wrong with you? Rein it in.
Hitoshi went to turn the ignition back on - the push-button start - but it stalled. We fried the whole thing?
“Uh, Denki…?” He hedged. Denki’s eyes peeled open a sliver. Almost on autopilot, his hand laid over where Hitoshi’s was, his fingers fitting between the folds of Hitoshi's, sending a jolt directly against the dashboard. It lit back to life. The AC kicked back on, cooling the wet, bruising mementos Denki had left along his neck.
“12-volt ain’t nothing to me.” Denki said, trying for cocksure but Hitoshi could hear the relief in his voice.
Denki lounged back in the passenger seat, sated. The picture of contentment. Both his eyes were closed again.
But Denki still found it in himself to ramble.
“Well, ‘least I got one last hurrah before you crash this car.”
The car hummed on. As Hitoshi went to put the car in drive, he pinched Denki’s thigh again.
“Maybe I’ll just drop you off at your place then—“
“Noooo,” Denki bemoaned, like it was the worst suggestion in the world. “I get the best sleep in your bed.”
“That makes one of us.”
“I’ll sing you to sleep.” Denki’s nose wrinkled as he smiled, his eyes still closed.
“That’s definitely not putting me to sleep.”
“I’ll be—“ Denki continued around a yawn. “I’ll be big spoon...”
At a stoplight, Hitoshi caught a glimpse of himself. Even bathed in the red, he could make out the flush his face had - not entirely from physical exertion - and the small, dopey smile his expression had softened into.
…Maybe his luggage wasn’t the only thing he had to unpack.