I come bearing Shinzawamic sex pollen/aphrodisiac quirk shenanigans

*****

When Shouta gets hit with the quirk, he's not going to a damn hospital to work it off. He's married; he's going home so his husband can pound him til he's unconscious.

So while he's still coherent he texts Hizashi and tells him to send Hitoshi off to a friend's or something.

Except it's the middle of the night and while he and Hitoshi are both still awake, Hizashi can't exactly tell him to leave.

So he hands the kid his noise-canceling headphones. They're expensive and they /work/; he won't hear a thing.

Hitoshi's confused at first, but when Hizashi explains, he can't help but laugh at the kid's wide-eyed expression before he walks away.

Hitoshi goes to his room and shuts the door, and stands there, headphones in hand.

He doesn't put them on.

He should, he knows he should. It would be wrong of him to listen.

So wrong.

But hadn't he already crossed that line the first time he gave in to those thoughts he'd at first tried to fight - of Aizawa teaching him how to kiss, how to suck a cock, how to fuck? That low, patient tone correcting him, saying "like this" as he held Hitoshi's chin and slid his

tongue into his mouth, or gently muttering words of encouragement as Hitoshi drooled around his dick, large hand pressing on the back of his head to keep him in place...Hitoshi had given up on suppressing his 'wrong' desires months ago.

If nobody knows...then it's no different, right? It's not like he'd be watching, just listening. Hearing what his teacher actually sounds like during sex isn't really any worse than what Hitoshi's already been doing.

And teenagers were /supposed/ to be curious about sex, right? Wouldn't hearing a married couple make love (repeatedly, roughly, ravenously) be healthier for him than anything porn would show him?

His attempts at justification are laughable even to himself.

(And if he's honest, he's already heard them. More than once. On those nights when he's in bed but not asleep, when one of them will come home late, Hitoshi will get up to get a glass of water and hear the muffled noises coming from their bedroom.

He doesn't exactly run in embarrassment back to his room.)

Hitoshi knows he's not going to talk himself out of it, so he sits beside his door and listens.

Despite the way he's focusing on every little noise the house makes, he starts to think maybe he's missed Aizawa

coming home, maybe the walls are more soundproof than he'd thought, or maybe he'd come in through their bedroom window to avoid the possibility of seeing Hitoshi at all.

But then the front door opens and slams shut, and he goes still. He can't quite make out the words, but he

hears Yamada greeting him with a laugh in his voice, but he's suddenly cut off and there's a thud. The image of Aizawa pinning him to the wall is too vivid. Hitoshi doesn't even need to imagine it's himself; Yamada with his hair down is attractive to anyone with eyes,

and the idea of his model body being pinned by someone as gruff and intense as Aizawa has Hitoshi's cock twitching already.

Were they going to fuck right there against the wall?

No, there's low murmuring, a series of thumps - Mic trying to herd Aizawa to the bedroom.

He can hear harsh, whispered sibilants, and presses his ear to the crack where the door shuts, straining to listen, before he hears, clearly: "He's here?"

Hitoshi starts, because /oh./

His voice is haggard and breathless and raw in ways he's never even imagined.

More muttering, voices moving away, then a door closing and silence.

Hitoshi's cock is throbbing in time with his pounding heart.

He knows what he should do: stay in his room, jerk off, put the headphones on and pretend to be asleep if they check on him later, and in the

morning life will proceed as usual.

But he knows he's not going to do that. All the reasons he shouldn't be doing this are blaring in his head while he stands and carefully opens his door, but he knows himself. He'll lie in bed imagining it anyway. He'll be obvious

the next morning, the next few days, blatantly staring at his teacher as he wonders what he gave up the chance to listen in on.

So he pads silently across the floor, a mix of what Eraserhead taught him and what he'd taught himself in his less-than-perfect childhood.

He hears noises long before he's standing outside their door, hand braced on the wall as he leans in. Long, loud moans Hitoshi hadn't known people actually made in real life (though this was hardly a normal romp for them anyway), and he has just long enough to conjure an image of

Mic with his legs spread, Aizawa's thick cock ramming into him, before he hears "goddamn, Shouta..." and realizes that's /Aizawa/ moaning.

Hitoshi's mouth drops open almost comically, hand flying up to stifle his gasp.

His sensei likes to bottom.

/Loves/ it, by the sound of things.

It could just be a side-effect of the quirk; maybe it makes the victim have an insatiable desire to be filled (Hitoshi's cock spasms at the thought). But the way Yamada growls "fuck, baby, you look so good" sounds too much like he's used to

saying it, used to praising his husband while he groans in pleasure.

He's generalizing, he knows he is - Mic was probably a talker no matter what went on in bed - but the idea of his mentor taking it (needing it, spreading himself open and begging for it) is stupefying.

Hitoshi's hand is in his pants and he's not sure when it got there.

There's a long, satisfied groan that trails off into "shit, yes...", then the repetitive slap of skin, loud and sharp, and Hitoshi realizes Mic hadn't been fucking him, hadn't even been /inside/ him yet,

and now that he is, Aizawa's shouted moans are even more impassioned, incoherent and breaking off at the end, going high and airy, and honestly his sensei has no business sounding like that, sounding so...depraved.

Cursing, then a desperate whine, Yamada's sultry voice

breathlessly saying "already, baby?" and then a cry of ecstasy that has Hitoshi cumming, biting his knuckle to keep from making a sound as he listens to Aizawa's whimpers.

He keeps his hand wrapped around his softening cock as he blearily listens to Mic say something too soft to

catch, but then Aizawa pants out "keep going," tacking on a frantic "please," and Hitoshi makes a hopeless noise.

He freezes, panic coiling in his gut when the noise inside the room stops.

He takes a step back, ready to flee, but then Yamada laughs and says "you're so needy,"

and he hears muffled moans from both of them - more like what he's used to hearing, noises stifled like they're pressed close together, kissing deeply while they're fucking, and somehow that intimacy is just as arousing as what he's already heard.

Despite the cum drying in his hand, his cock is showing interest again as he listens to their murmuring voices, the smacking of lips, more whines and groans from Aizawa, then he hears another laugh and Mic asks "you think he would?"

Hitoshi turns and rushes back to his room as quietly as he can, shutting the door behind him and sitting against it.

There's /no way/ they were talking about him. That's ridiculous. They didn't know he was there. They were talking about another one of the teachers, a friend.

Those sex quirks are supposed to be pretty powerful, right? They were talking about inviting someone else over to...to help fuck Aizawa coherent again.

But they'd heard him, hadn't they? They'd heard something, because they'd stopped, so...

/No./ They thought he'd been in his room with absolutely zero interest in eavesdropping on them. They wouldn't even imagine he was lurking outside their door getting off on listening.

Hitoshi's phone buzzes, startling him.

He wipes off his hand with a stray shirt and picks it up, glances at the screen and sees he has a text from Mic:

/Could use a helping hand.../

Hitoshi tosses his phone away.

/What the fuck?/

That was...a hallucination. A dream? Maybe he'd been dreaming this whole time?

He crawls over to his phone, ignoring the tremble in his fingers as he clicks through to his conversation with Yamada. All their past texts are there, perfectly average, then at the bottom...It was an invitation, right?

Impossible.

The phone buzzes again.

A call.

From Aizawa.

Hitoshi stares. Swallows heavily. Glances around his room as if something there can explain things to him. Looks back at the screen.

Answers the call. Lifts the phone to his ear with a shaking hand.

Immediately he hears Aizawa moaning and Mic panting, and thinks maybe it was an

accident. They hadn't meant to call him, he shouldn't have picked up, now they'll know he heard them.

But then:

"Go on, Shouta, tell him what you want."

Hitoshi's heart might be even louder than his sensei's ragged breaths.

"Speechless, baby?" A loud smack, and Aizawa yelps.

Hitoshi gasps.

Yamada laughs. "No pressure, Hitoshi." He sounds only barely out of breath, driving in how unnatural Aizawa's frenzy is. "You can join in if you want, or if you wanna just pretend tonight never happened in the morning, that's cool too."

Hitoshi can hear the rhythmic hitch in Aizawa's breath - he's still being fucked. Mic is talking to him while he's-

Hitoshi drops his phone and can't bring himself to pick it up again.

This is...

Somebody's fucking with his head. Dream quirks aren't that rare; somebody must be

making him live out his fantasies.

Except he's never had dreams like this. Even his most erotic daydreams had never seen Mic inviting him to a threesome with a sex-drunk Aizawa.

But this still can't actually be real.

And now he's stuck with the same dilemma: go after his desires, or try and go to bed knowing what's happening just a few rooms away.

A hysterical laugh escapes him when he suddenly remembers Kaminari saying "never underestimate the power of horny; it'll bite you in the ass

and you'll like it."

Hitoshi picks up his phone, but the call has ended.

He already knows what he's going to do. Maybe he's just self-sabotaging, or maybe he's just that horny.

If he's dreaming, he's going to enjoy it to the fullest.

If he's not, and he's about to ruin a good thing...so be it.

Back out into the hallway, back outside their bedroom door, listening again to the raucous sounds of the frenetic coupling happening on the other side.

He reaches out to open it, has a last moment of doubt, and pulls out his phone. He calls Aizawa back.

It picks up and he hears Yamada ask: "You coming, Hitoshi? Oh!" He laughs, loud. "No pun intended for once."

He sounds so normal, like he isn't rewriting Hitoshi's entire playbook.

But hearing it both in his ear and through the door is what seals it for him - he slides his phone back into his pocket, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

(tbc as soon as I'm done editing. hopefully tomorrow.)

(this is so much longer than intended but hey, a free meal)

Mic is kneeling on the bed, sitting on his legs, back mostly to Hitoshi. Aizawa's hips are in his lap, and Hitoshi's gaze lingers on how wide his thighs are spread. He'd known how flexible his sensei was, and it had

been relevant in more than one of his favorite scenarios, but seeing him posed like this is breathtaking.

Mic turns to look at him and, well, he's not exactly offputting either, hair casually tied up, impish grin on his face, muscles in his back tensed with how he's turned,

hand doing.../something/ to Aizawa that Hitoshi can't quite see.

"Glad you could join us. Shouta's being a little needy right now, and I've already provided once."

He faces front again, and Hitoshi steps closer.

First he registers Yamada's fingers sliding deep into- no, it's more that Aizawa is riding his hand as best he can, hips rocking hard, cum squelching out between his fingers.

His gaze travels up to Aizawa's cock, pressed hard against his stomach and flushed a painful-looking

dark red despite the streaks of white already painted across his torso.

Hitoshi finally looks at his face. His eyes are shut, mouth open as he pants, flushed pink down to his chest. His hands are clenched in his hair, beads of sweat quivering on his forehead.

He's not even sure Aizawa knows he's there - if he has any clue what's going on beyond his need - but then he opens his eyes just barely, just enough to see him, and Hitoshi's mouth goes dry.

There's recognition there. Aizawa's incapacitated, but lucid. He knows Hitoshi's there,

and /why/ he's there.

Aizawa's hand drifts down to his cock, eyes slipping closed again as he gasps, pre gathering on his tip.

"See?" Mic says. "Needy. Looks like Hitoshi has what you want, though."

Startled, Hitoshi looks down and realizes he's rock hard again, and somehow

shame forces itself in and makes him take a step back, embarrassed to be aroused in front of his foster dads as if they weren't the cause of it, as if they weren't screwing literally right in front of him.

"You wanna just watch for a while?"

Yamada's voice has gone softer, losing its teasing edge, and his grin has lightened. He's looking at Hitoshi with that open, honest face that shows up whenever he's able to sense that Hitoshi's had a shit day and asks him about it - his eyes manage to convey both concern and

'you have my complete attention' despite him still being three fingers deep in Aizawa.

"Like I said, no pressure," he says gently, conspiratorially, and actually /winks/, but it works.

Hitoshi climbs onto the bed slowly, reaching out to drag his fingers along Aizawa's thigh.

His skin is burning, and his leg twitches at the touch.

"Ever done this before?" Yamada asks.

Hitoshi shakes his head.

It's mostly true; he's fingered a girl once, and got off with an ex-classmate by rubbing their cocks together in a bathroom stall after school, but neither of

those could begin to compare to this.

Yamada beckons him closer and pulls his fingers from Aizawa, and the whine of complaint almost escapes Hitoshi's notice because he's watching his hole clench around nothing, a drop of cum seeping out.

"Hush," Mic says, clapping a hand down

on Aizawa's thigh, getting him an oversensitive hiss.

Finally taking initiative, Hitoshi glides his fingers up Aizawa's leg to his entrance, only meaning to explore, trace around his lube- and cum-slicked rim, but he thrusts his hips hard and Hitoshi's finger slides in to the

first knuckle easily - he's so /loose,/ yet he still clamps down insistently on his finger.

Mic shifts them around, pushing Aizawa into Hitoshi's lap, and he gets lost in the feeling of his sensei's walls clenching and twitching, how his hipbones jut out with the way he rocks

impatiently when Hitoshi adds a second finger, how his cock is leaking freely even though his hand is back buried in his own hair, how he's making these breathy noises of satisfaction, like he'd be content to ride Hitoshi's fingers until the quirk wore off.

Yamada's hands slide around his waist and Hitoshi flinches minutely, having forgotten he was there at all.

"You lemme know if anything's not cool with you," he says softly in Hitoshi's ear, breath tickling, and maybe it's an application of his quirk Hitoshi hadn't considered or

maybe he's just turned on enough to find most anything arousing, but Hitoshi's toes clench as he nods helplessly.

His pants are quickly undone and Hitoshi gasps as a hand pulls out his cock, his inadvertently curling fingers drawing a similar noise from Aizawa.

"Hm, purple here, too," Mic croons. "I knew it was your natural color, but I'd wondered."

Hitoshi doesn't answer, cock twitching as Mic toys with the curly hair at its base.

"So you're clean, yeah?"

Hitoshi nods. He should be; those other two had both claimed they'd never

messed around with anyone before, so it'd be virtually impossible-

His mind blanks as Yamada pulls his fingers away from Aizawa and lines up his cock, urging him forward with a hand on his hip.

Aizawa moans as soon as he's breached, and Hitoshi might be echoing him; he doesn't

know. He just knows it's /warm/ and /tight/ and the world goes a little white at the edges when his sensei rams his hips down to take him to the hilt, and then Aizawa's cock is spurting, untouched, though he barely seems to register that he's cumming again.

Aizawa doesn't hesitate, heels digging into the bed as he rocks as hard as he can in his position. Hitoshi is starstruck, watching his cock disappear inside him, aware that his fingers are digging into his mentor's thighs far too deeply to be comfortable but

unable to stop himself.

The hand on his hip pushes him forward again, urges him to meet Aizawa's thrusts, and instinct takes over.

He fucks into Aizawa with a clumsy speed that likely shows his inexperience and eagerness, but the deep groan and the way Aizawa's head lolls

to the side says it doesn't matter.

Yamada settles next to him, hand sliding over his cock - which had never even begun to soften - as he leans in to whisper into his ear, smile once again sly and devious. Aizawa seems too far gone to care or understand what he's saying, whining

as he arches up into his hand, but he turns his head and kisses his husband sloppily, their mouths wide, tongues twining together. It should be overstated, gaudy, crude, but the slackness of Aizawa's jaw, his uncoordinated attempts to properly press his mouth to Yamada's when his

body is being rocked by Hitoshi's thrusts, coupled with his ceaseless moans, is embarrassingly hot.

Hitoshi watches, awed, as Mic kneels beside Aizawa's head and tugs at his half hard cock. 'Power' isn't a word he usually associates with Yamada (his quirk, yes, but not

the man himself), but he's never seen him like this, feeding his (pierced, Hitoshi can now see) dick down someone's throat, tattoos glistening with sweat in the low light, gaze near predatory as he watches Aizawa take him.

And Aizawa himself is also attractive in a brand new way, eyes rolling back as he holds his mouth open wide and lets Mic do as he pleases, drool leaking out.

He takes Yamada's length impossibly far down his throat, gagging, body clenching, and Hitoshi's orgasm slams into him,

surprising him, and he has to fight to keep his eyes open, hips jerking helplessly, not even caring about the noises he must be making because all he can do is try not to look away from the scene before him.

Neither of them even seem to notice he'd finished, Mic focused on

fucking Aizawa's mouth and Aizawa focused on trying to breathe around him.

Aizawa makes an impatient noise, ass clenching, and Hitoshi gasps as his softening cock is pushed out, followed by a small stream of cum.

He traces it with his thumb, pushing it back in before he

realizes what he's doing, then pulls his hand away quickly.

Instead of the hazy bliss that usually follows a climax, Hitoshi feels like he's seeing clearer.

He's done his part. He just blew his load inside his sensei. Yamada only needed him here as a placeholder until he could

get it up again, and he'd obviously done that.

Next comes the part where they tell him to leave.

Except they don't.

Aizawa humps empty air, and Hitoshi cautiously reaches out to stroke his cock, mesmerized by his mentor's still urgent need to cum despite feeling like he's

overstayed his welcome, sitting there clothed save for his limp dick hanging out of his pants.

But Aizawa's cock twitches hard against his palm, and it's the only encouragement he needs to keep stroking him.

Mic pulls out of his mouth and leans down to kiss him instead, deep

and claiming, before saying: "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Fuck me."

If Hitoshi hadn't cum already, he would have at the sound of Aizawa's demanding growl, so needy but with the same insistent authority behind it as when Hitoshi made a stupid mistake while sparring.

Hitoshi awkwardly moves aside to let Mic retake his place, but his fumbling attempts to do up his pants are halted when Mic slaps Aizawa's thigh and says "roll over" and then Aizawa is face down, ass up and Hitoshi swears his cock twitches again.

Yamada toys with his husband,

spreading his cheeks and massaging his rim, not sparing Hitoshi a glance until after sliding his cock into the loose hole being presented to him and praising Aizawa's shout of pleasure.

"You gonna stick around?" he asks, regarding Hitoshi with an indifference he shouldn't be

able to show while pulling Aizawa's hips roughly back to meet his thrusts.

"We could keep taking turns with him all night. Pass him back and forth."

Seconds ago he'd been preparing to see himself out. Now he's not sure they'd be able to force him out.

A tiny piece of his mind thinks 'might as well' when he strips off his shirt, and he had to hold back a snort of laughter because 'might as well?' Like he'd reached in the cookie jar and found there were only two left; might as well take them both.

Hitoshi thinks it might be a coping mechanism, how his mind goes to strange places when he's overwhelmed.

He slides off the bed long enough to get the rest of his clothes off then climbs slowly back on, hoping one of them will give him some kind of direction. He still feels out

of place, silently watching Aizawa's delectable suffering (to be fair, he still seems to be finding it delectable as well, face pressed into the sheets, fingers twisted in the fabric, his long, steady moans broken up by every thrust).

Answering Hitoshi’s silent hopes, Yamada

leans forward to wrap both arms around Aizawa's chest and pull him up.

"You need to cum so bad, don't you..."

Aizawa is beautiful like this. Back arched, chest heaving, fingers of one hand twining with Yamada's on his chest while the other hand slides up and back to clutch at

golden hair. His face is stuck in tormented bliss, and with his head falling back against Mic's shoulder and his body looking like an exhibit, legs spread and a sheen of sweat over every inch of skin, he seems so open.

Raw.

Hitoshi remembers being a little dazed, a little

dumbstruck the first time he'd spoken to Eraserhead, and it feels like that again. Like he can't believe someone like this would waste their time on someone like him.

Entranced, he reaches out, tracing his fingertips down Aizawa's stomach, watching the muscles jump under his

touch, hearing his hissed "Yes" when Hitoshi's hand wraps around his cock.

He's barely moving his hand; with Yamada ramming into him and Aizawa eagerly moving between the two, Hitoshi only has to tighten his grip and Aizawa's length is spasming in his hand,

shooting cum between them.

His orgasm seems to at least register this time; he goes limp in Mic's hold, though his cock is still rock hard.

"What's that now, four?"

"How long does it last?" Hitoshi asks, the first thing he's said this whole time, marveling at how

Aizawa's still leaking pre.

"Dunno. Last time it went on for hours."

Hitoshi's head whips up. "This has happened before?"

Mic laughs, still no trace of effort in his voice. "Just the once. The other time was so much worse. He was rubbing his dick raw by the end and could

hardly touch himself but still needed to get off so bad. Not fun to watch." He turns his head to nuzzle into Aizawa's neck. "But you're enjoying yourself now, aren't you, baby?" He bites down and Aizawa flinches, yelling out.

His hand untangles from Yamada's and reaches down to

close around Hitoshi's, still gripping his cock. It's so slick with cum and pre; Hitoshi wants to taste him but he's never sucked anyone's dick before and he's not sure he wouldn't just choke on Aizawa's cock being jutted into his mouth with Mic's thrusts.

Yamada's hand follows his husband's, past his engorged cock to his balls, squeezing. Aizawa groans, hand tightening over Hitoshi's as he ups their pace.

"Fuck," Mic mutters, nipping at Aizawa's neck again. "Gonna make me cum again already."

He pulls out, and has to reach up to

detach Aizawa's fingers from his hair after they'd clenched in complaint at the sudden emptiness.

"I'm just trying to last longer, hun." Mic says. "Why don't you ask Hitoshi to-"

"Lie down," Aizawa orders, voice like a clap of thunder, and Hitoshi bears the full brunt of the

intensity in his eyes for only a moment before he's pushed - /shoved/ - onto his back.

"Damn, aggressive much?"

Yamada's comment goes ignored as Aizawa clambers over Hitoshi's hips, reaching down to grab at his cock, which was only just starting to show interest again.

Hitoshi winces, grateful when Yamada pulls his hand away.

"Don't be so rough with the kid."

He shuffles in between Hitoshi's legs, reaching down to slip fingers back into Aizawa's hole. Aizawa relaxes into him again, and Hitoshi gets another glimpse of the unexpected sense of

dominion in the way Mic doesn't so much cup his jaw but seize it, turning Aizawa's face to kiss him.

Somewhat sated, Aizawa's hand is gentler when he grasps Hitoshi's cock again, coaxing him to hardness until he's rocking into his fist, still watching their lips move against

each other.

He misses whatever Mic breaks away to whisper, but Aizawa looks down at Hitoshi again, lifting his hips and sinking down onto his cock.

Hitoshi's hands grip the sheets so hard he's afraid he'll rip them, breath leaving him in a wheeze as Aizawa takes him to the hilt

and immediately lifts up again.

He hadn't ever thought being inside someone could make him feel powerless, but he's paralyzed, incapable of anything but watching his mentor's body move, taking his pleasure from Hitoshi, using him.

Yamada's jerking him off with one hand, while

the other scratches up his side, cards through the hair on his chest, pinches his nipple until Aizawa trembles and cums.

He seems to finally get a reprieve, settling his hips onto Hitoshi's and sighing as Yamada wipes wet hair from his face.

"How we doing?" Yamada asks softly.

Aizawa doesn't answer, shaking his head and already looking worn out.

Mic hums. "Better than last time, though. And this time you have two of us to help out." His hands haven't stopped moving, sliding along Aizawa's oversensitive skin - neck, chest, hips, down to where his rim

is stretched around Hitoshi.

"Hopefully at least one of us can fuck you until it's over, yeah?"

Hitoshi swallows, trying not to focus on the finger tracing where he and Aizawa are joined.

"Last time, did you..." He can't quite finish his thought, but Mic picks up on

his meaning anyway.

"Last time I just plugged him up with a vibrator. I was half-asleep by then, can't imagine how exhausted he was. He'd halfway pass out with it going hard, come back long enough to scream and cum, again and again until he could finally fall asleep."

Aizawa groans as if recalling the incident, and Yamada kisses his neck. "Would have been pretty hot to watch if he hadn't actually been in pain. I mean, more pain than what's fun, right, babe?"

He slaps Aizawa's thigh, and the resulting yelp and shudder has Hitoshi moaning,

eyes slipping shut.

He opens them again when he feels Aizawa shift suddenly, jolting as if pushed, and he falls forward, catching himself with their faces close enough Hitoshi can feel his breath.

The wild look is back in his eyes, and Hitoshi is pinned again, paralyzed again.

He hopes he doesn't look afraid because if he weren't so turned on, he would be, faced with such a predatory stare up close.

Then Aizawa is kissing him, and Hitoshi whimpers. It's not like how he imagined; there's none of the lazy teasing, no teaching, just hunger. Wet, harsh,

demanding hunger.

Aizawa starts grinding against him, long rolls that barely lift him off Hitoshi's cock at all, but that's probably a good thing; if not for his first two orgasms, Hitoshi would have been done already.

And like this, Aizawa can keep kissing him, keep licking

inside his mouth and making those content noises that vibrate in his chest.

Then he feels a touch at the base of his cock and before he can react, fingers are sliding into Aizawa alongside Hitoshi's cock.

Aizawa gasps, freezing above him, and Hitoshi's hands finally detach from

the sheets to clutch his waist instead, instinctively wanting to soothe him.

The touch works, bringing Aizawa's focus back, and he latches on to Hitoshi's lips again, biting down hard enough to sting.

Hitoshi's surprised grunt when cold lube dribbles down his balls is lost to

Aizawa's eager mouth, but they both go still with shock when Yamada starts pushing his cock into Aizawa's hole.

Once he can see past the stars that clouded his vision, Hitoshi stares at the pinched, tense look on Aizawa's face. Had they done this before?

Mic finally seems not

so nonchalant, one hand on Aizawa's back as he slowly enters him. His hair has steadily been coming loose, and he's watching his husband closely as his breaths come in short gasps, struggling to adjust to the both of them.

"Breathe," Hitoshi says, surprising himself. He slides

one hand up to stroke Aizawa's hair - he tells himself it's a soothing gesture, but he's wanted to do it for months, though that, too, isn't like what he'd imagined, his sensei's hair slick with sweat, his pupils blown wide as he pants and stares down at Hitoshi with something

between lust and helplessness.

Aizawa suddenly lunges down and kisses him again, and the rest of the night becomes a blur.

Hitoshi's third orgasm is inside Aizawa, overwhelming with Mic still thrusting. He knows Aizawa came at least twice with the two of them inside him, and

Hitoshi thinks things are winding down - Aizawa is finally going soft in between rounds, collapsing on top of him.

He's certain he's at least finished; he's never cum three times so rapidly.

He's wrong. His fourth time happens after he finally gets his mouth on

his mentor's cock - Aizawa on his back, cursing when Hitoshi flicks his tongue over his tip, and Hitoshi on his knees, cursing when Yamada slips behind him and starts licking his hole.

It's surreally quiet when Aizawa finally passes out, on his side with Mic's fingers stuffing

him full from behind, Hitoshi's hand on his oversensitive cock. He sobs his way through one last orgasm, completely dry, then drifts off.

Yamada presses a kiss to his husband’s neck and rolls off the bed. "Be right back."

He leaves the room, and Hitoshi takes advantage of the

solitude and nuzzles against Aizawa's neck. Nothing sexual about it, just taking a single moment to pretend he wasn't only there because of a quirk.

He's leaned away again, not wanting to be seen being overly familiar, when Mic returns with two bottles of water. He passes one to

Hitoshi, who downs half of it at once while watching Mic shake his disgruntled husband awake.

"C'mon, babe, we learned our lesson last time."

Aizawa sits up long enough to chug most of the bottle (if Yamada notices Hitoshi watching his neck, he doesn't say anything), then flops

back down. Yamada laughs softly and finishes the rest, and most of Hitoshi's when offered.

"You can go shower if you want," Yamada says. "But I'm not gonna bother trying to clean him up or change the sheets until morning, so it'd kinda defeat the purpose."

Hitoshi's eyes go wide and Yamada looks confused at first, then mirrors his expression when he realizes what he'd implied.

"You can go back to your own bed if you want, it's fine."

Aizawa's not entirely asleep, he reaches out blindly to grip Hitoshi's arm and

makes a disagreeing noise.

He knows he shouldn't feel such elation over it - Aizawa probably just wanted him to stay in case the quirk hadn't entirely worn off yet - but he can't help his smile.

"Guess you're stuck with us," Mic says, and Hitoshi's not exactly upset.

*****

He wakes up sore, and he can't imagine how Aizawa must feel - Hitoshi hadn't been the one doing most of the work, body being yanked through one climax after another.

He's alone in the bed, but he hears water running, and a hot shower sounds like the most amazing thing - between

the musty smell in the air and the way parts of the sheets are crusty with dried cum, he feels disgusting.

He briefly wonders if he should look for his clothes, but he doesn't have to wait long before his teachers emerge.

"Morning, kid."

He mumbles a response to Mic as he

sits up, hastily averting his eyes when he sees he's naked. He probably would have covered up if Hitoshi didn't have permission to look anymore, but the morning light feels like it's changed everything. Aizawa is a safer sight, towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey," he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, and Hitoshi hopes he doesn't blush, because Aizawa's voice is rougher than usual, and memories of his screams from mere hours ago want to resurface.

"Hizashi told you we could forget about everything if you wanted."

Hitoshi nods cautiously.

"Go shower, and when you come out, we'll follow your lead."

It's still a little unbelievable. Even with the very real ache in his muscles and the dirty sheets and Yamada still not wearing anything yet, part of Hitoshi is wondering

how this could actually be happening.

But he's learned how to seize every opportunity granted him.

He shuffles off to the shower, glancing back just long enough to watch Aizawa drop his towel before shutting the door, and smiles.

/////END