Shinsou's dreams are crushed when his hero license is denied.

He leaves UA, knowing that his quirk is too villainous for him to be allowed to become a hero.

He finds a place in sex work.

After all, there's a pretty big market for boys who can perfectly mimic voices.

Luckily, he's allowed to take his mask with him.

It's not so bad.

Shinsou puts on his mask, ties a blindfold around his client, and gets to work. He takes the recording of the voice he's supposed to mimic and talks as dirty as his clients want.

They never see his face. He keeps himself in the dark and lets his body and copied voice do the talking. It's not so bad and it pays the bills. He's a popular choice. His work is niche. It's a way for people to relive late lovers and unrequited crushes.

He's only a couple months out of UA when he gets a new application for a client.

Aizawa Shouta.

His heart nearly stops when he sees the name.

It's the man who'd done everything for him, who'd tried harder than anyone to convince him to stay, telling him they'd find recourse and get Shinsou his hero license. The worst part about leaving UA had been leaving Aizawa. His beloved teacher. The man who'd believed in him.

Shinsou can't separate his emotions from each other.

First he's terrified. Terrified that his old teacher and beloved mentor had found out what he was doing and was coming to drag him back to a life that didn't want him. But that couldn't be possible. Shinsou had run from home.

He operated under a name that wasn't connected to him at all. Not to himself and not to the hero persona he'd created while chasing a dream that could never be. He's distanced himself from all that. There's no way Aizawa found him.

Next, he's hopeful.

Because Shinsou had always hoped that there had been something there. Something in the way Aizawa ruffled his hair. Something in the soft voice he used with him. Something in the way Shinsou had caught him looking at him.

He'd always hoped. But he'd hoped for a lot of things.

He's hopeful. Hopeful that Aizawa wants him back, wants to go to someone who can imitate his voice. He thinks- fantasizes- about it, about not using the mask, about sitting in Aizawa's lap and saying filthy things in his ear as himself and not some stranger he's pretending to be.

Then he reads down further on the digital application.

There's a place for potential clients to write about the person they're wanting him to imitate.

Shinsou doesn't see his own name.

But he does see a name he's familiar with.

Shirakumo Oboro.

Shinsou's fingers hover over his mouse, over the accept button on the application.

He'd never thought he'd hear that name again. Aizawa had never said it to him. But he'd heard it on the lips of Yamada, Aizawa's best friend, always with sly glances at Shinsou and knowing smiles.

All he knows is that he's someone who was once close to Aizawa and Yamada. Who isn't around anymore. Who he now suspects Aizawa was in love with.

Who Yamada not so subtly thinks Shinsou looks and sounds like.

This is the person Shinsou's being asked to copy. An old flame of Aizawa's, the teacher Shinsou had fallen hard and fast for. The person who Shinsou brought up memories of, somehow, for some reason.

Shinsou took in a deep breath, and hit accept.

Attached was a voice recording.

Shinsou has to admit.

The person on the recording does sound like him.

Or did.

He's pretty sure this person is dead.

It hasn't been long since Shinsou dropped out. He still sounds like a teenager without the mask, because he is one. It doesn't take much to get a fake ID and Shinsou has a multitude of them just in case anyone gets suspicious. No one has. No one is looking for Shinsou Hitoshi.

The thing is...

Aizawa once taught him that he can't rely on his support equipment. That he has to learn to hold his own without it.

Despite the mask, Aizawa still made him practice imitating voices without it for weeks, telling him he needed to be able to stand without it.

So Shinsou can imitate voices without his mask. Just not as well. Not as realistically.

But the other thing is that he's never had an assignment that involved someone who sounded so similar to him.

Someone who Shinsou could easily imitate without his mask.

'Arrive wearing a blindfold' Shinsou writes in an email to his new client. To Aizawa. Usually, he'll provide one, even tie it for the client if they're into that, but right now he can't risk Aizawa finding out who he is.

And for once in his life, Shinsou just wants this.

All of his other dreams have been crushed. He's a dropout runaway who's made a name for himself in an untapped niche of sex work. He's a long ways from UA. No one is looking for him. He's alone. For once, Shinsou just wants one thing, and that's Aizawa. He'll do anything.

He gets an email back quickly.

Much quicker than he expected.

'Are you able to do that voice?'

Alone in his rundown apartment, Shinsou smiles and writes back.

'I can do any voice you want.'

Nothing has ever been truer. Shinsou would do any voice Aizawa wanted if it meant finally getting to be with him.

Their appointment is set for two days later.

Shinsou clears his schedule.

And spends the next two days practicing that voice in his apartment, playing the recording over and over.

He notices, at one point, that not only does the voice sound like his own, but it sounds similarly aged, like the person in the recording is a boy Shinsou's age. A student. But Shinsou had never gotten the feeling that this Shirakumo person had been Aizawa's student.

An old flame.

A highschool lover?

Gone now.

Shinsou hasn't lost any of his sharpness since leaving UA.

He knows this is someone Aizawa lost while he was still young.

He obsesses over it so much that he starts hearing it in his sleep.

"Shouta! Shouta!" The recording always starts, the boy with the voice so similar to Shinsou's calling out to the man Shinsou knows as his teacher.

They're the sweetest dreams he's had since dropping out.

He thinks about it so much and refuses to lay a hand on himself, as if he's saving himself for Aizawa. That train has long passed but Hitoshi can pretend that he didn't give his virginity to the first idiot willing to pay for it.

Late at night, Shinsou finds himself wondering again and again:

Did Aizawa look for him?

Did he try to find him?

Was there any chance he was still trying?

Shinsou takes it as an indication of just how fucked up he is when he realizes how horny that line of thinking makes him.

By the time the day arrives, Shinsou can imitate the voice on the recording perfectly. Not just with the words on the recording, but with anything. He has the way of speaking down, from the voice to the mannerisms. He's recorded himself again and again to make sure. He's ready.

Downstairs is Shinsou's 'office'.

It's just him here. Him and the dimly lit room. He's done what he can to make it more comfortable. It's not like he's flat broke. As it turns out, this niche of sex work pays decently.

He goes above and beyond for Aizawa.

He lights candles. He fluffs the pillows on the couch. He lays out a neat line of toys to use. He dresses up, something he doesn't usually do unless there's a specific request for it. He goes all out.

He counts the minutes to his arrival.

Aizawa was never late to class. Not once.

And he's not late now, either.

He arrives right on time, the bells above the door alerting Hitoshi to his arrival.

There's a pause. Hitoshi lets out a breath of relief. He'd written out more in depth instructions to Aizawa. He'd told him to stop as soon as he came in the door and tie the blindfold on. Aizawa had done exactly that.

Hitoshi takes a deep breath. It's time to see him.

He peeks his head around the doorway to the 'waiting area'. A small lamp lights up the entry room.

There stands Aizawa.

Looking like he hasn't changed at all.

It hasn't been that long, but god--

Aizawa looks exactly the same. Like it hasn't been a day since Hitoshi ran away and never came back. Like tomorrow Shinsou will return to school and sit in his seat while Aizawa teaches him like nothing happened.

The only thing different about him is that he's not wearing his hero costume. At first, Shinsou expects to be disappointed at that, but he's not. He looks nice, comfortable in the oversized sweater and maroon scarf wrapped around his neck.

His hair is down, looking just as soft as always and Shinsou is reminded again of all the times he'd fought to not reach up and run his fingers through it when they'd been training. He regrets that he didn't, but now he can make up for it.

There's only one other strange thing--

He's holding something. Flowers.

Lavender, to be exact.

Finally, Shinsou makes a sound. He laughs quietly. Just like the voice on the recording.

"Are those flowers?" He asks softly, his heart beating hard. This is his first time with a client without a mask. It's hidden away in the playroom in case he needs it, but he's not used to talking to people without it. It feels strange, hearing something resembling his own voice.

"I-" Aizawa starts, tensing up at the sound of Shinsou's voice. Or...not the sound of Shinsou's voice, but the sound of his long gone friend.

Shinsou's used to that reaction. No one ever seems to expect it.

He watches as Aizawa swallows hard, "They were always your favorite."

For a moment, Shinsou's blood runs cold.

Because he does like lavender.

In fact, that's his favorite type of flower.

His old foster home had a patch of it right outside the door. Shinsou would sometimes pick it or sit in the patch and go to school smelling like it.

And then he realizes that he's not supposed to be himself.

He's supposed to be someone who's like himself, but not quite him.

Still, Shinsou takes the flowers from him, thinking about how he's going to put them in a nice vase upstairs. Though he'll have to buy one first.

"Thank you," he replies quietly, a genuine smile blossoming on his face. He sets the plants down and looks at Aizawa again, standing so close to him that he can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "I missed you."

Shinsou's done this before. This isn't the first time someone's asked him to imitate the voice of a dead lover or childhood flame. He knows how to say the right things to get people to relax. He knows how to get them to talk.

Aizawa's shoulders drop. The tension drains from him.

Shinsou got it right. He smiles a little wider. Aizawa can't see behind the thick blindfold covering his eyes, but he's still grinning.

"Don't just stand there," Shinsou gives a carefree laugh, just like the one he'd heard so many times on the recording. "Come on, Shouta!"

It feels odd to be calling Aizawa by his first name. Foreign. But that was what was on the recording. That was what Shirakumo had called Aizawa, so that was what Shinsou had to call him.

He doesn't wait for an answer and grabs Aizawa's hand, tugging him towards the playroom.

Before each appointment, Hitoshi would make up a list of things his character was, as if he was an actor in a play. He'd list out all the traits he knew about the person just so he could play them better. People pay top dollar for good imitations.

Shinsou had never known him, but he knew that Shirakumo had been carefree and excitable, still a little child-like and with a strong personality.

He isn't totally sure why Yamada had though Shinsou was similar to him, but that didn't matter right now.

Aizawa's hand is warm in his own, soft except for the callouses on the pads of his fingers, leftover from the capture weapon he always wore. Shinsou used to have a set of his own, but they'd faded over the time he'd been away.

He'd felt Aizawa's hands before, but only during training or in those rare instances where he'd run a hand through Shinsou's hair or touch his shoulder or his neck. Never like this. Never so close.

Arousal pooled deep in Shinsou's stomach already.

Aizawa goes easily. Shinsou pulls him to the playroom where he has everything all set up. He leads him to the plush couch and doesn't hesitate as he pushes him down onto it. As nice as he looks in those clothes, Shinsou can't wait to tear them off of him.

Shinsou licks his lips and climbs into his lap. Strong and head-strong was the feeling he'd gotten from the boy on the recording. Someone who knew what he wanted and wasn't someone to hesitate. Hitoshi is playing a part. A very important part.

"Oboro-"

He hears it hissed from between Aizawa's lips. His hands shake as they wrap around Shinsou's waist, his hands on his bare back.

"It's okay, Shouta," Shinsou assures him, straddling his lap with his thighs. He leans in close, his heart beating fast and hard.

As much as he wants to he doesn't kiss him just yet.

His lips are right there, red and so close, but he doesn't.

Instead, Shinsou lays his head on Aizawa's shoulder, pressing his chest against his. He nuzzles close to his neck, closing his eyes and breathing Aizawa's scent in.

He hadn't been lying before.

He's missed this so much.

He's missed his afternoons with Aizawa, training with him or being lucky enough that Aizawa took him along to run errands with him. He's missed the closeness. He's missed someone caring.

Above him, he hears a hitched breath.

"Are you okay?" Shinsou asks, murmuring it into the warm material of his scarf. His hands snake up and he starts to unwind it from his neck, desperate to get to Aizawa's skin.

"There's just-" He's never quite heard Aizawa like this. His voice is whispered and- broken. There's emotions there. Feelings. Things he's not used to hearing in his Sensei's voice. "-A lot has happened lately."

Shinsou knows he shouldn't, but he does. "Oh? Tell me about it."

Shinsou pulls the scarf from Aizawa's neck, letting it drop onto the couch. He nuzzles closer, pressing his face into his bare neck now. He's so warm and this close, Shinsou can feel his heartbeat.

He kisses gently, not yet mouthing at his neck, holding back to encourage him.

"There's this student-"

Aizawa's hands slide up. They travel over his back, push up his camisole and slide under. Touching him. Squeezing him. Like he always wanted. Shinsou moans in Shirakumo's voice.

"-That I really liked. He reminded me so much of you."

Shinsou's heart almost stops.

He thinks...

Maybe it's him Aizawa's talking about.

"There's no reason to feel bad about that," Shinsou whispers, shifting so he can wrap his legs tight around Aizawa's hips. He rocks down and under him, he can feel a quickly forming bulge.

"There is," Aizawa says, with so much finality in his voice that Shinsou can almost see all the guilt beneath. "He's a student. A kid. But it doesn't matter. I lost him anyways, like I lost you."

Aizawa's arms wrap tight around Shinsou's chest. He squeezes hard, like he's going to fall away from him.

Aizawa cared. Cares still.

God, all Shinsou wants is to ride his cock until all the guilt is gone.

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Shouta," Shinsou pants, never once dropping the act. It's easy like this. That boy's voice sounds so much like his own that it's almost second nature. "You didn't do anything to lose me, either. It's not your fault."

He grinds down on him hard.

He feels Aizawa's hips snap up to meet his, hears the choked gasp he earns from his former teacher.

"No-" Aizawa insisted, Shinsou looking up to find that he has his teeth clenched, like he's trying to keep from moaning. "-It was my fault."

Shinsou surges up and kisses Aizawa.

He presses his lips hard against his, arms tangling around Aizawa's neck, fingers finding purchase in his long black hair just like he'd wanted to do so many times during training.

The more he realizes that he's the student Aizawa's talking about, the more he wants him.

Aizawa's tongue presses into his mouth and he holds Hitoshi close against him, kissing him just as hard. Shinsou melts into him, whining as Aizawa grabs at him and squeezes, like he thinks that Shinsou might suddenly disappear if he doesn't hold onto him hard enough.

Shinsou rarely kisses clients. He rarely uses his mouth. The mask is a great excuse for that. There isn't a lot he can do with his mouth when he has it on. And that's exactly why he didn't want to wear it this time. He wants to kiss Aizawa. TO leave marks on him.

When Aizawa pulls away for air that's exactly what Shinsou does. He ducks his head, kissing at Aizawa's bare neck, latching on and sinking his teeth into him until he's sure that the pale skin there will turn dark.

He hopes Yamada sees it tomorrow. Hopes he asks where it's from.

He hopes Aizawa tells him. Says that he went to an escort that imitated their dead friend's voice. For some reason, Shinsou hopes Yamada gets mad. Jealous. Demands to know who it was. And he hopes that it spurs Aizawa to come back, to tell him more, to do it all again.

"Fuck-" Aizawa swears in a way Shinsou's never heard before. His falling apart seems so uniquely Aizawa, though, that Shinsou's dreams an fantasies could never compare.

"Tell me more," Shinsou urges in a sweet tone, gently kissing the spot he'd just left on Aizawa's neck.

"His- his license got rejected by the commission," Aizawa immediately complies, as if he would never dream of arguing with the person Shinsou's pretending to be. "They... they said someone with his quirk would never be accepted as a hero by society."

The words usually drove ice through Shinsou's heart when he thought about them. He had the rejection letter hidden deep in one of his drawers. Hearing them from Aizawa's mouth, though, made Shinsou's cock throb hard, knowing that he could remember them as well as Shinsou did.

So it wasn't just him who'd been feeling that icy pain all this time-

Someone else had too.

Shinsou grinds his hips down into Aizawa's, rubbing himself against his hot bulge.

"It's not your fault," Shinsou breathes, and he means every word of it.

He sucks another mark onto Aizawa's neck before he peels himself away from him for a moment.

The candles flicker in the room. Hitoshi sees the variety of toys he'd set out. He doesn't touch any of them now.

He pulls the lace camisole over his head.

He's left in his panties, but he wants Aizawa to handle those.

Besides, he has bigger goals in mind right now.

"Let me help you," Shinsou purrs in the voice that doesn't quite belong to him. He presses his hand at that bulge, watching Aizawa's face.

Under his hand, Aizawa's cock jumps and twitches. Hitoshi grins, remembering all the times during training when Aizawa had changed into workout clothes and he'd spent what felt like hours staring at him, his mind wandering.

He wonders what that Shinsou would think of him now. Sitting in a dim, shady apartment, being paid to pretend to be other people for people to fuck.

It doesn't really matter what that Shinsou would think of him.

This Shinsou is the one sitting on Aizawa's lap.

So he wins.

"You're so excited, Shouta," Shinsou teases with a carefree laugh. He rubs his hand against him in a slow circle. "It's okay. I am, too. See?"

Shinsou grabs one of Aizawa's hands and brings it to the front of his panties, guiding him. He laughs again. It's almost real.

"You-" Aizawa starts, but doesn't finish.

"It's okay," Shinsou assures him again, grinning a bright smile. He leans in a little and finds the button of Aizawa's parts, quickly undoing it. "I was just really excited about tonight. So I wanted to dress up."

There's a pause.

And then-

He thinks he sees a smile on Aizawa's face.

Just a small one.

As if this is the exact thing that his old friend would've done. The exact thing he would've said.

It's the truth, too. But Aizawa doesn't know that. He probably thinks this is nothing else but a usual night for the voice-imitating boy he'd hired.

Aizawa thinks he's just someone with a quirk or a talent for this. He thinks he's an adult. He thinks he's someone other than him.

Aizawa's other hand comes to a rest on his hip pulling him forward again. Hitoshi gets his pants open and pulls the zipper down and a moment later, he's pulling Aizawa's cock out. This time the smile on his face is real. Genuine.

It doesn't matter how he got here.

At least he's getting one thing he's always wanted.

He knows this isn't right. He knows Aizawa would say no if he had any idea who the boy on his lap is. He knows this is deception.

But just once, Hitoshi wants to be selfish.

Everything else he's ever wanted has been ripped away from him.

Just once he wants to be in control.

And then Aizawa says something.

He strokes Hitoshi's hip gently, in the same way someone would touch a long time lover.

"He reminds me so much of you."

Hitoshi moans again. For the first time, he thinks that Aizawa might actually be able to get him off on words alone and he has no idea what he's doing to him. The softness in his voice just makes his cock throb and his heart beat faster. He wants so badly.

"He ran away," Aizawa adds, and his voice breaks, going back to a whisper. He stroked Hitoshi's hip. Finally, his other hand rests against the front of his panties, where there's a massive wet spot from Shinsou's cock leaking. "I haven't seen him since. I miss him every day."

Don't say it- Shinsou wills him, not because he didn't want to hear it, not because it would break his heart, but because he would lose control, would come in Aizawa's hand right now, before he even had the chance to undress him.

He couldn't hear him say that he'd been looking for him. Not yet. It'd be too much.

Shinsou wrapped his hands around Aizawa's cock, the rest of his words turning into a moan.

"I'm sure he misses you too," Hitoshi whispered, his voice losing some of that playfulness. He didn't let his persona slip yet, though. "Just like I do."

He leans up again and kisses Aizawa. He strokes him in long movements. He takes in each throb and twitch, each muffled sound.

Hitoshi almost wants to get him off like this, just touching him and stroking him until he comes apart and spills in Shinsou's hands. But he's not sure if there'll be more and he doesn't want to miss his chance. Not again.

When he breaks from Aizawa he murmurs in his ear, "I'm wearing a plug if you want to touch."

Aizawa's eyes are covered with the blindfold, but he can imagine his eyebrows going up. He makes a shocked noise, but not the kind that usually tells Shinsou's he's out of character.

The hand that had been on the front of Shinsou's underwear wanders back, pausing before slipping under his waistband.

It's only after he touches the metal plug nestled in Shinsou's ass that he realizes that he'd been waiting to make sure it was alright.

Suddenly, he remembers his first time.

It hadn't been the worst, really. It wasn't violent or forced. But it was transactional. Shinsou had needed an apartment. He had a bidder for his virginity.

He hadn't said no nor had he wanted to but they had never paused like Aizawa had.

He wants to know what it would've been like with Aizawa.

Like this, maybe? With that specific brand of softness that only Aizawa seemed to have, still mixed with passion and desire but still gentle? He can barely imagine it. It seems so far away.

"I'm not a virgin," He says stupidly as Aizawa's thumb brushes against the plug. He immediately feels hot shame wash over him, a rare occurrence these days.

Aizawa just snorts, though.

"I know. I lost my virginity to you."

So that confirms it.

This Shirakumo person had been an old lover of Aizawa's. Someone he'd been with when he was Hitoshi's age. Someone who was now gone, and someone who Aizawa missed so much that he was willing to pay someone to pretend to be him.

And Shinsou reminds Aizawa of him. Just like Yamada had said, all those months ago. It feels like years have passed between hearing Aizawa's friend say those words and now, hearing the confirmation.

Shinsou leans in, covering for his mistake by murmuring in Aizawa's ear, "Don't make me wait, Shouta. Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

He feels Aizawa's fingers curl around the plug in his ass.

Without thinking, Shinsou added, "And how much you miss that boy."

Aizawa pulls the plug from his ass, so hard and fast that Shinsou almost comes undone right then and there. He moans louder than he ever has in this room. Not a second later, Aizawa is pulling down his panties hard enough that Shinsou thinks he might rip them right off his body.

Something Shinsou had said set him off.

It hadn't been anything about Shirakumo. No, Aizawa is acting like he's with his friend, not even seeming to remember that Shinsou is just an escort pretending to be him.

No, it'd been what he said about himself. About Shinsou.

Emotions surge through Shinsou harder than ever before.

It's been a long time since he felt emotions like--

No.

No, it'd been a long time since he'd felt emotions at all.

Shinsou had accepted his new life. The way he thought about things, it'd been his choice to run away and do this. Everything leading up to this was a series of choices he'd made. So it wasn't logical to feel any negative emotions about them. He'd willingly done this.

But now-

Sitting on Aizawa's lap with Aizawa nearly tearing his clothes off of him, leaving him naked and exposed, all Hitoshi feels are emotions.

Aizawa yanks him flush against him and Hitoshi fully expects him to thrust his cock into him but he feels a finger slide into him.

Hitoshi knows. Aizawa's checking to make sure he's ready. It's rare that clients do this. It's usually up to Hitoshi to ready himself for them. Even through the desperate haze he's ignited inside of Aizawa, he's still trying to be gentle.

Hitoshi feels around beside them, until he finds the bottle of lube he has nearby. His mind is spinning and going white as he pours some onto his hands and rubs it over Aizawa's cock, silently signaling that he's ready.

Aizawa grabs his wrists when he's done.

Shinsou cries out, just momentarily forgetting to make his voice a little deeper.

Aizawa doesn't pause. He squeezes Shinsou's hands, tangling their fingers together, like their lovers, like they're something more than escort and client.

He lets go only for long enough to guide Shinsou's hips to his cock. Shinsou's already halfway there, though, and he squeezes Aizawa's hand and lowers himself onto Aizawa's cock.

He doesn't have the sense left to let him adjust. He pushes down on it, taking it all in one go.

"Oboro-" Aizawa gasps out, his voice breaking into a long groan. His free hand rests at Hitoshi's hip, but he doesn't try to still him or make him wait. Instead, Hitoshi goes right into it, pulling off of him before pushing back down, unashamedly moaning as he rides Aizawa.

Hitoshi gives all his clients a choice of how they want him. He's done everything- bottom, topping, sex and everything short thereof. He can't deny that his heart soared when he saw Aizawa had marked that he didn't care. Hitoshi has always dreamed of riding Aizawa like this.

He just never expected it'd be under these circumstances.

But he's not complaining.

"Shouta-" Shinsou moaned in response, remembering to keep up the character he was playing. He never usually had trouble but now, when he wanted it just as badly as his client if not more, he was slipping.

He rides Aizawa hard, listening to every pant and groan of his.

He takes it all in, forcing himself to remember it all so none of it slips away. The way Aizawa's hands gripped him, the way his thick cock throbbed in his ass and hit Shinsou's sweet spot each time. The way he looks, moaning and breathing hard as Shinsou fucks himself on him.

Shinsou's getting close. Aizawa's hand finds his cock and he's stroking him, trying to move in time with his thrusts. Shinsou's too fast, though, too desperate, too practiced, and he can feel himself getting closer and closer until-

Until Aizawa finally says those words.

Gasping them out, somewhere between sick with arousal and heartbroken with desperation, Aizawa's facade breaking so much that Shinsou can hear the pain dripping off of every single word.

"I've looked for him so much-- Everywhere-- Sh--"

Shinsou comes, hard, his orgasm making him see white. It's the words that do it, not Aizawa's hand, not his cock hitting his prostate, not the name that sits heavy on Aizawa's lips.

"--Shinsou."

Shinsou whimpers. There's no Shirakumo in his voice. He stutters on Aizawa's cock, shaking and squeezing and clinging onto him like his life depends on it.

Aizawa's still holding his hand. Shinsou wraps both of his around it and clings.

Aizawa follows immediately.

Shinsou's orgasm has him squeezing around his cock. He gasps out something once more and Shinsou can't tell if it's his name or the dead boy's. Maybe both. It sounds like both of them slurred together, like Aizawa can't decide who he wants him to be.

He slams up into Shinsou one last time and Shinsou feels his cock throb as he comes deep inside of him. He realizes, with distant amusement, that they never agreed on if Aizawa could come inside of him, but hell would freeze over before Shinsou would say no.

He fills him up and Shinsou collapses onto his chest, limp and spent and not wanting to let go or get up.

Aizawa lets him. For a few minutes they lay together on the couch, breathing together, drained and exhausted.

Shinsou closes his eyes.

Their training sessions used to get so intense. At the end of the day, sometimes Aizawa would just collapse on the mat beside him and they'd lay together, staring up at the ceiling, breathing heavily with their own sweat pooling under them.

When Hitoshi closes his eyes that's what he sees.

He can imagine that they're there again.

Except this time Hitoshi is laying against Aizawa, not next to him on the mat with a few inches between them.

For a moment, he can really see it.

For a moment, he can really believe it.

When he opens his eyes again, the imagine dissipates.

Aizawa's still there, but he's blindfolded and they're in a dim room in Shinsou's shady apartment where he uses the training Aizawa gave him to satisfy the urges of people who want him to be someone else.

Aizawa doesn't even know.

Shinsou lifts himself up. Aizawa's cock slides out of him slowly. His former teacher groans and that seems to finally rouse him. Shinsou's quick to find his panties and slide them back on and before Aizawa can move much, he slips the plug back in.

Aizawa takes a few moments to get himself together, and then he says the worst thing he possibly could.

"Thanks for tonight."

That was it. Just the cold, sordid reminder that Hitoshi was just a sex worker and Aizawa was just a client.

Hitoshi feels something he hasn't in months. There's pressure behind his eyes, tears gathering and threatening to burst out.

"S-Sure," He stutters out, remembering to put on Shirakumo's voice again instead of my own. "I'll give you a discount if you come back."

It's his way of begging. He wants- No, needs- Aizawa to come back. He doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't. He wants to tell Aizawa that he'll let him fuck him for free and he'll be whoever the hell he wants him to be as long as he just comes back.

But he can't say any of that. Because if he does, he'll start suspecting. And then he'll find out and hate Hitoshi.

No matter what amount of legal trouble Hitoshi would get in, nothing would compare to Aizawa hating Hitoshi after finding out that he'd taken him as a client.

"I will," Aizawa says, his voice sounding exhausted, though satisfied. "I left your payment on the table in the other room. I'll send you an email when I'm free again."

Hitoshi just nods.

Soon enough, Aizawa left.

Outside, in the welcome room was the flowers he'd brought and an unmarked envelope filled with cash. Hitoshi counts out his usual payment and then more. A note written in Aizawa's neat handwriting indicates that the rest is a tip.

Hitoshi wishes he hadn't left it at all.

He goes upstairs. He doesn't go to the bath like he usually does after an appointment. Instead he refiles through his things until he finds a pitcher that can serve as a vase until he buys one tomorrow.

He wonders if lavender really was Shirakumo's favorite flower.

It seems especially odd that both he and Shinsou would share a favorite flower.

With how much Aizawa had talked about him today, he almost got the feeling it wasn't just Shirakumo he'd wanted.

Shinsou pushes the thoughts away and tries to clean up. It's messy and he can't stand to look at himself in the mirror, but he gets through.

When he returns to his phone, though, he finds a new message. From Aizawa.

Subject: Next Time

Message Contents: Would you be able to do a different voice next time? I attached a sample.

Hitoshi knew without opening it that it was a recording of his own voice.

//thread! thank you guys for reading! this was the first thread i've written in a while and i had a good time with it. btw i was listening to no children by the mountain goats while writing it and i feel like it fits the vibe of this thread

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