Couldn& #39;t stop thinking about a/b/o alpha/alpha shinzawa spending their ruts together and how Shinsou might struggle to get his instincts under control, how Aizawa probably is delighted to "help" him submit...
and now it& #39;s really long and also a thread :& #39;)
and now it& #39;s really long and also a thread :& #39;)
Shinsou never quite figures out what sets him off, but one moment theyâve been on stakeout for 8 hours, trading sarcasm and nihilism, and the next, his teeth are snapping in Aizawaâs face. The instinctive, jagged aggression is harder to push down than normal.
But then, it doesnât really matter. Aizawaâs massively unimpressed expression will put most alphas in their place, and Shinsou is no different. He blinks at Shinsou slowly, eyes narrow and catlike. Shinsou shuts his mouth with a snap.
âDonât know what& #39; gotten into me,â Shinsou mutters, looking back out the windshield. He knows better. Posturing like this at his mentor is pathetic, but his rut is coming up and the van theyâve been cooped up in stinks of alpha. Pheromones crawl over his skin like oil over water,
telling him to fight or fuck pretty much anything that moves. He wants to give in. Itâs pathetic.
Aizawa snorts softly. âI think I have an idea,â he says drily, gaze flicking up and down Shinsouâs body. Itâs an effort not to react, but Shinsouâs a pro.
Aizawa snorts softly. âI think I have an idea,â he says drily, gaze flicking up and down Shinsouâs body. Itâs an effort not to react, but Shinsouâs a pro.
After nearly 10 years as an underground hero, practically nothing fazes him. Aizawa, though, has always been an exception.
Itâs not until theyâre in a shitty Yoshinoya after their shift that it comes up again. They fit in with the night crowd easily in their stakeout clothes.
Itâs not until theyâre in a shitty Yoshinoya after their shift that it comes up again. They fit in with the night crowd easily in their stakeout clothes.
As always, they look somewhat similar. Both of them in ratty sweats, Shinsou sporting an ancient crewneck sweater with an outdated meme on it and Aizawa in a massive, stained hoodie. Shinsou watches him push a piece of beef around with a single chopstick, looking sallow and
exhausted in the Yoshinoyaâs cheap yellow lights.
âDid you take time off,â Aizawa says abruptly. Shinsou follows his gaze out the window. Itâs 3 AM, and not much is happening. The occasional pedestrian scuttles down the street, obscured by the blur of traffic lights in rain.
âDid you take time off,â Aizawa says abruptly. Shinsou follows his gaze out the window. Itâs 3 AM, and not much is happening. The occasional pedestrian scuttles down the street, obscured by the blur of traffic lights in rain.
âYeah. Thursday," Shinsou says.
Aizawa grunts in reply. The beef makes another chopstick-propelled circle in his bowl. Then, âI guess thatâs why they gave me such a hard time, if you were already taking off too.â
âHm?â Shinsou finally looks back at him.
Aizawa grunts in reply. The beef makes another chopstick-propelled circle in his bowl. Then, âI guess thatâs why they gave me such a hard time, if you were already taking off too.â
âHm?â Shinsou finally looks back at him.
Looking at him, this late, this close⊠it feels a little dangerous. Aizawa smells like he always does, but tonight itâs strong. Heady. Whatever store-bought suppressants theyâd worn are fading after a long stakeout, and all Shinsou can process is his goddamn /scent/.
Aizawa smells like stargazing, like a night spent on a lonely rooftop, like wet cement and empty urban streets.
Shinsou jerks back, realizing too late he was leaning in. Aizawa runs a hand through dark hair, pushing it ineffectively out of his face.
Shinsou jerks back, realizing too late he was leaning in. Aizawa runs a hand through dark hair, pushing it ineffectively out of his face.
âI think weâre synced,â Aizawa says, then yawns, jaw popping. âMakes sense; weâve been working together a lot lately. I guess we& #39;re close enough.â
Synced. Synced? Shinsou fights past the haze of exhaustion and Aizawaâs night-city smell to realize heâs talking about their ruts,
Synced. Synced? Shinsou fights past the haze of exhaustion and Aizawaâs night-city smell to realize heâs talking about their ruts,
of all things. Then heâs suddenly, painfully aware that theyâve never talked about things like this before.
Shinsou swallows hard, trying to appear nonchalant. âDid you uh, get your time off request approved?â
Shinsou swallows hard, trying to appear nonchalant. âDid you uh, get your time off request approved?â
âFinally. Got the notice today. Guess a week alone will do me good.â Aizawa shoots him a bored look, digging at something between his teeth with a toothpick. âI& #39;ll finally get a break from all your smartass backtalk.â
âYou like it,â Shinsou says immediately, dropping his chin into his hand, elbow on the countertop. Is he flirting? He canât be. Not with Aizawa, even if he knows their scents are mixing, rubbing up against each other like friendly cats. Maybe theyâre close, but not like /this/.
Aizawa doesnât deign to answer. Shinsou tries again. âSo, a week alone?â
Aizawaâs chin sinks to his chest like a turtle, disappearing in the folds of his hood. âIâm an old man, kid. Donât need to go crazy anymore. Iâll leave crap that to you.â
âYouâre literally just 42."
Aizawaâs chin sinks to his chest like a turtle, disappearing in the folds of his hood. âIâm an old man, kid. Donât need to go crazy anymore. Iâll leave crap that to you.â
âYouâre literally just 42."
Shinsou canât quite look away from the shadows pooling at Aizawaâs throat, the ever-present scruff. Something feels different tonight. Maybe theyâre both tired, worn down enough that they canât quite fight down the chemical cocktail their bodies are determined to put outâŠ
âIâve got some match-made omega scheduled in," Shinsou says. It sounds so clinical when he says it like that, and Shinsou supposes it is. He canât even remember the name of the woman heâs been assigned. Aizawa doesnât seem to care either way, instead stuffing the last piece of
beef into his mouth. Shinsou is abstractly happy to see him eating something that isnât a juice pack.
âBut I can still cancel,â Shinsou says, watching Aizawaâs mouth as he slowly chews. He barely knows what heâs saying, but the air between them has never felt like this.
âBut I can still cancel,â Shinsou says, watching Aizawaâs mouth as he slowly chews. He barely knows what heâs saying, but the air between them has never felt like this.
It could easily just be Shinsouâs rut coming on early, but everything smells like anticipation. Like the lines between them can be blurred like ink on skin.
And fuck, Shinsou is closing in on thirty and he can take a goddamn chance. He can always blame it on hormones later.
And fuck, Shinsou is closing in on thirty and he can take a goddamn chance. He can always blame it on hormones later.
Probably.
Aizawa will certainly mock him mercilessly for it, but Shinsou rather likes it when Aizawa gets mean.
âWhat,â Aizawa says, blinking at him. Shinsou can see half-chewed beef in his mouth. Fuck, he wants to kiss him.
Aizawa will certainly mock him mercilessly for it, but Shinsou rather likes it when Aizawa gets mean.
âWhat,â Aizawa says, blinking at him. Shinsou can see half-chewed beef in his mouth. Fuck, he wants to kiss him.
Is Shinsou aroused? Does Aizawa know? He has to, heâs got a working nose, and if Shinsou is feeling this /much/, he must reek of it.
What does he smell like to Aizawa? He leans in, meeting Aizawaâs flat black stare.
What does he smell like to Aizawa? He leans in, meeting Aizawaâs flat black stare.
âI can cancel,â Shinsou says slowly, intentionally imitating Aizawaâs talking-to-idiot-students voice, âand then you donât have to be alone.â
âWhat?â Aizawa repeats, chewing still. Shinsou grits his teeth, his mind made up.
âWhat?â Aizawa repeats, chewing still. Shinsou grits his teeth, his mind made up.
Besides, heâs too riled up to back down now, and he doubts his alpha would let him even if he wanted to. Which he doesnât, because Aizawa isnât stupid and heâd have shut Shinsou down /long/ ago if he was completely disinterested.
âYou donât have to be alone,â Shinsou growls, âif you spend your rut with me.â
Aizawa blinks once, processing, then his eyes shoot open as he chokes violently on his food. Shinsou watches, vaguely delighted heâs had any effect on the other man. Itâs maybe thirty second of hacking before Aizawa gets it down, then glares daggers at him.
âShinsou,â Aizawa says, âdo you know what you& #39;re saying? Youâre an alpha. So am I.â His voice is so deep and dark that Shinsou wants to drown in it.
âItâs been done,â Shinsou says instantly. Aizawaâs chin lifts, a subtle gesture of defiance.
âI was you mentorââ
âItâs been done,â Shinsou says instantly. Aizawaâs chin lifts, a subtle gesture of defiance.
âI was you mentorââ
âYou were. A /decade/ ago. Itâs just an offer, /Sensei/.â
Aizawa takes a long drink of water, throat bobbing as he swallows. Shinsou canât think of anything except how he hasnât been rejected yet.
Aizawa looks at him sidelong. âYou still call me /that/.â
Aizawa takes a long drink of water, throat bobbing as he swallows. Shinsou canât think of anything except how he hasnât been rejected yet.
Aizawa looks at him sidelong. âYou still call me /that/.â
âSuck my dick,â Shinsou says, just because he can. Aizawa lets out a short, sharp laugh and drops money on the table.
âYou wish... apparently. Donât bite off more than you can chew, kiddo. See you at headquarters tomorrow.â
âYou wish... apparently. Donât bite off more than you can chew, kiddo. See you at headquarters tomorrow.â
Shinsou watches him walk out the door in a daze. He⊠still hasnât been rejected. Then heâs stumbling off his stool in haste, chasing after Aizawa.
Shinsou catches him outside on the sidewalk, and the fact he hasnât already melted into the night is practically an invitation.
Shinsou catches him outside on the sidewalk, and the fact he hasnât already melted into the night is practically an invitation.
âYou think I canât take it?â he says to Aizawaâs back. Aizawa stops and turns, hood pulled up. His face is shadowed, damp hair plastered across his face.
Aizawa crooks a finger. Shinsou steps up to him as surely as if heâd been trapped in Aizawaâs capture weapon.
Aizawa crooks a finger. Shinsou steps up to him as surely as if heâd been trapped in Aizawaâs capture weapon.
Out here, their scents are dispersed, less powerful, but the calculating look Aizawa gives him still has heat rolling up his spine. Aizawa isnât exactly expressive, but Shinsou has known him a long time and thisâ
This is far, far further than heâd ever dreamed of getting with the older man. Aizawa meets his eyes.
âYou think you can?â
âIââ
âYouâre a young, strong alpha,â Aizawa says derisively. âYou really think itâs going to be so easy to submit? Bend over like a bitch in heat?â
âYou think you can?â
âIââ
âYouâre a young, strong alpha,â Aizawa says derisively. âYou really think itâs going to be so easy to submit? Bend over like a bitch in heat?â
âIâm not a fucking animal,â Shinsou snaps, stepping in. Theyâre only inches apart. Shinsou feels the heat of his presence acutely, despite the chill of rain. âIâm a goddamn adult. I can control myself, and so can you. Youâve /seen/ it.â
âSex is different, and a rutâs even worse,â Aizawa says, hands in his pockets. Unarmed, like Shinsou isnât even a threat. Itâs practically an insult, and Shinsou feels the need to fight like an animal inside him, digging in its claws, hissing in his ear and telling him to fight.
Or fuck. But he does nothing except smile slightly, because heâs learned to school his expressions from the best. From Aizawa.
He pulls out his phone and brings up the number to the match agency, pushing it into Aizawaâs field of vision. âIâll call and cancel right now.â
He pulls out his phone and brings up the number to the match agency, pushing it into Aizawaâs field of vision. âIâll call and cancel right now.â
Aizawa stares at him in silence, in the calculating way that tells Shinsou heâs making a decision. Thereâs an occasional rush of wind as cars pass by, but Shinsou says nothing. Cold rain runs down his face, dripping down his scalp.
This feels like a test. It almost certainly is.
This feels like a test. It almost certainly is.
Finally, Aizawa steps in. The scent of his arousal is sudden and sharp, like too-hot sake at midnight, and Shinsou is swimming with it, drunk on it.
âYou think you can control yourself,â Aizawa says flatly.
âYou think you can control yourself,â Aizawa says flatly.
âYes.â Shinsouâs reply is quick, breathless, because hesitancy will scare Aizawa away faster than anything. Aizawaâs dark eyes sweep him from head to toe, critical, evaluating. Shinsouâs never wanted to pass one of his tests this badly.
âHm. I guess weâll see.â
âWait, does that meanââ
âIâd cancel on your omega now, if I were you,â Aizawa says, eyes narrowing. âItâs rude to lead people on.â
Shinsou stares. Stares so long that Aizawaâs expression morphs into that awful, gleeful smile. âScared off already?â
âWait, does that meanââ
âIâd cancel on your omega now, if I were you,â Aizawa says, eyes narrowing. âItâs rude to lead people on.â
Shinsou stares. Stares so long that Aizawaâs expression morphs into that awful, gleeful smile. âScared off already?â
âSo youâre going to⊠reallyâŠâ Shinsou chokes out. Even if heâs wanted this for as long as he knew how to /want/, being successful had never once seriously occurred to him.
This is unreal.
Un. Real.
This is unreal.
Un. Real.
âEmail me your address. We can work out specifics,â Aizawa shrugs, pulling the strings of his hoodie. It scrunches around his face, tufts of black hair sticking out around the edges.
âEmail?â Shinsou turns sarcastic because heâs on autopilot, and he left his brain somewhere
âEmail?â Shinsou turns sarcastic because heâs on autopilot, and he left his brain somewhere
in his dick with no chance of retrieval. âSeriously? Canât I just text you?â
âHey, youâre the one who wants to fuck an old man,â Aizawa grins, his teeth a white crescent against the night. âDonât bitch, or Iâll make you fax it.â
âHey, youâre the one who wants to fuck an old man,â Aizawa grins, his teeth a white crescent against the night. âDonât bitch, or Iâll make you fax it.â
Heâs already rounding the corner by the time Shinsou thinks to shout after him, âYouâre only 42!â
Shinsou walks the entire way home, dumbfounded and wide-eyed, soaked to the skin but still somehow hot all over.
Shinsou walks the entire way home, dumbfounded and wide-eyed, soaked to the skin but still somehow hot all over.
It doesnât sink in until he walks in his door and realizes that his apartment is a fucking mess and heâs inviting /Aizawa/ there to /fuck/ in a /week/, and his life is a shitshow, but the best shitshow possible.
He cleans until 6 AM, spends twenty minutes regretting
He cleans until 6 AM, spends twenty minutes regretting
his life choices, sleeps for two hours, and is on patrol the next day like nothing fucking happened.
Neither of them bring it up for the rest of the week. Itâs torture for Shinsou. He usually has better control over himself, and even the days leading up to his rut typically leave him relatively unaffected.
Then itâs Thursday. Shinsouâs house has literally never been cleaner.
Then itâs Thursday. Shinsouâs house has literally never been cleaner.
Thereâs snacks everywhere, food deliveries scheduled (which strict instructions to leave things at the door), and several new blankets.
Aizawa shows up at 6 PM sharp, just as theyâd planned. Over email. Extensively. Shinsou is only freaking out a lot.
Aizawa shows up at 6 PM sharp, just as theyâd planned. Over email. Extensively. Shinsou is only freaking out a lot.
Yeah. Shinsou is freaking out. Sort of definitely reassured, but still completely freaking out because itâs /Thursday/ and now Aizawaâs knocking on his door. Shinsou can see him distorted through the peephole, a massive duffle bag slung over his back.
Heâs wearing a white long-sleeve shirt and some jeans. Itâs almost dressed up, and Shinsou feels absurdly touched. Mostly, he just feels absurd. The feeling doesnât dissipate as he opens the door, and Aizawa walks in.
Shinsou nearly loses his balance, rocking back to lean against the wall because Aizawa forewent scent blockers and. And. Shinsou canât really think of anything but him, of his scarred face and curling black hair and how he smells like every silent walk through downtown andâ
Aizawa brushes past him, heading for the living room. Shinsou remembers abruptly that heâs been here before.
âYou cleaned,â Aizawa says, dropping his things on the couch and unzipping the bag. Shinsou watches, speechless, as he upends it over the coffee table.
âYou cleaned,â Aizawa says, dropping his things on the couch and unzipping the bag. Shinsou watches, speechless, as he upends it over the coffee table.
An entire sleeping bag, maybe a hundred juice packs, loose papers, and a random assortment of clothes spill everywhere. Then he looks at Shinsou over his shoulder, like a cat that pushed a glass off a counter.
Itâs impossibly seductive. Something has to be wrong with Shinsou.
Itâs impossibly seductive. Something has to be wrong with Shinsou.
âMake yourself at home, Sensei,â Shinsou says faintly.
Aizawa glares. âYou know what Iâm like.â
âI do.â
âItâs not too late to back out, kid.â
âDo you /have/ to call me kid?â
âDo you /have/ to call me Sensei?â Aizawa says, matching Shinsouâs tone perfectly.
Aizawa glares. âYou know what Iâm like.â
âI do.â
âItâs not too late to back out, kid.â
âDo you /have/ to call me kid?â
âDo you /have/ to call me Sensei?â Aizawa says, matching Shinsouâs tone perfectly.
âIâm not backing out,â Shinsou finally says. He carefully steps around juice packs until heâs right in front of Aizawa. âThe opposite, really. Sensei.â
âWhatâs that?â Aizawaâs chin tilts up to him, unafraid but also undemanding. Theyâre so close, itâs practically unbearable.
âWhatâs that?â Aizawaâs chin tilts up to him, unafraid but also undemanding. Theyâre so close, itâs practically unbearable.
âKid,â Aizawa adds, but his voice has dropped to a whisper.
Shinsouâs going to kiss him. He has to. Theyâre literally here for a week of fucking, but Aizawa still feels so off-limits. Several dayâs worth of email-based planning has /not/ prepared him for this feeling.
Shinsouâs going to kiss him. He has to. Theyâre literally here for a week of fucking, but Aizawa still feels so off-limits. Several dayâs worth of email-based planning has /not/ prepared him for this feeling.
âIâm all in,â Shinsou says, voice low in his throat. He thinks he sees Aizawa shiver, like heâs attracted to Shinsou. Like Shinsou can affect him. And maybe Shinsou has noticed his lingering gaze before, always quickly aborted. Still, heâd never hoped to catch Aizawaâs eye.
Aizawa does nothing, because of course the first move has to be up to Shinsou. He raises a hand slowly to Aizawaâs face, the forbidden nature of the movement weighing him down. It feels like an eternity before his palm rests on Aizawaâs scratchy cheek.
The universe shifts when Aizawaâs eyes drift shut, leaning into his touch. This is better than everything. Better than coaxing in a feral cat, than early morning coffee, than sleeping 24 hours straight, and Shinsou finds himself leaning in, pressing his lips against Aizawaâs.
Itâs a miracle when Aizawa kisses him back, lips parting slightly under his. He can feel his pulse thudding in his ears, urging him on, to take more, claim more, take everything that Aizawa will let him take. It would be so easy to get lost in the feel of his mouth,
the scruff on his cheek prickling against Shinsouâs palmâ
Pulling back takes more effort than it should. Shinsou steps back and tries to calm the rut scratching at his ribcage. God, he wants to take and /take/ everything he can get butâthis canât turn into a fight for dominance.
Pulling back takes more effort than it should. Shinsou steps back and tries to calm the rut scratching at his ribcage. God, he wants to take and /take/ everything he can get butâthis canât turn into a fight for dominance.
If he can submit to anyone, it would be Aizawa. God knows heâs imagined it thousands of times, especially in the last week, stretching himself open to prepare for a knot his body isnât made for.
Heâs never wanted someone this badly, heâs sure, and he wasnât really /supposed/ to go into rut until tomorrow but, hell, he can feel the heat of it in his chest, embers burning for Aizawa alone. He might go mad if he has to wait any longer.
âYou reek,â Aizawa says, stepping away. Shinsou blinks after him, watching as he flops onto the couch.
âLike what?â
âWhat?
âWhat do I smell like?â
Aizawa stares, then runs a hand over his hair, pulling out his low ponytail.
âLike what?â
âWhat?
âWhat do I smell like?â
Aizawa stares, then runs a hand over his hair, pulling out his low ponytail.
Shinsou swallows hard, watching the way inky hair cascades around his shoulders. Aizawa manages to do the simplest things in ways that feel impossibly erotic.
Or maybe Shinsou is just going to hit his rut early.
Or maybe Shinsou is just going to hit his rut early.
âA couple years ago I was on a sting op in Seattle,â Aizawa says, staring unfocused off into the distance of Shinsouâs living room. âWeapons trafficking, nasty op. I was undercover, working 18-hour days. Fucking place was miserable, raining every goddamn day.
Hadnât seen the sun in weeks. Found this little cafĂ© one day. Got a latte. I was sitting on the steps out front, sitting on wet, cold concrete. I was exhausted, freezing, and damp.â
âI smell like a shitty undercover gig?â
âI smell like a shitty undercover gig?â
Aizawa shoots him a look, meeting Shinsouâs eyes with an intensity that punches the air straight out of his lungs. âDo you want to know, or not?â Shinsou makes a show of shutting his mouth, and Aizawa continues. âAnyway, the cloud cover broke for a moment.
It was a little past dawn, and everything was suddenly⊠I could see the sunrise over downtown, and the air was clean and cold from the rain. Thatâs what you smell like. I had a latte and the sun had come out, and for one moment I felt like everything in the world made sense.â
Shinsou is stunned, unable to speak for a moment. It feels like Aizawa revealed more than he meant to, because his shoulders hunch, eyes flicking away from Shinsou. Shinsou swallows, pulling himself together.
âSensei, that almost sounds romantic.â
âSensei, that almost sounds romantic.â
Aizawa buries his face in his hands with a groan. âShut up. Iâm horny.â
If hearing about how Aizawa sees his scent had rocked him, this is worse. It doesnât matter that Shinsou already knows exactly what Aizawa is here for.
If hearing about how Aizawa sees his scent had rocked him, this is worse. It doesnât matter that Shinsou already knows exactly what Aizawa is here for.
The sudden shift to seeing him in a sexual context has him reeling, mouth running as if he hadnât spent years perfecting control over his vocal chords.
âShit. Thatâs. Fuck. Thatâs hot,â Shinsou stammers, making his way to the couch.
âShit. Thatâs. Fuck. Thatâs hot,â Shinsou stammers, making his way to the couch.
Even thinking of him in a sexual manner felt taboo until days ago, and seeing it in person is too fucking much. Aizawa looks at him sidelong, eyes shadowed by thick, short lashes.
âIs it?â
âIs it?â
âSo hot,â Shinsou repeats, leaning in. Aizawa sits back, making space for Shinsou to climb on his lap.
âMaybe we should try this before weâre too fucked up on hormones,â Aizawa says, his voice deep and gravelly. Sexy. Undeniably. Maybe Shinsou is losing his shit, a little.
âMaybe we should try this before weâre too fucked up on hormones,â Aizawa says, his voice deep and gravelly. Sexy. Undeniably. Maybe Shinsou is losing his shit, a little.
âProbably,â Shinsou agrees, dropping his weight on his legs. Aizawa groans, head dropping back.
âGod, youâre heavy,â he says, baring his teeth, âAnd I haveâI, you know. Prepped. Have something. You know. In.â
Shinsou freezes. The implicationsâŠ
âGod, youâre heavy,â he says, baring his teeth, âAnd I haveâI, you know. Prepped. Have something. You know. In.â
Shinsou freezes. The implicationsâŠ
âWait, you thoughtââ
âYouâre not my first alpha,â Aizawa says, even as his hips twitch upwards. âYou talk a big game, but I didn& #39;t know if you& #39;d be able to bite the bullet. So to speak. It& #39;s just practical to be ready to go... either way.â
âYouâre not my first alpha,â Aizawa says, even as his hips twitch upwards. âYou talk a big game, but I didn& #39;t know if you& #39;d be able to bite the bullet. So to speak. It& #39;s just practical to be ready to go... either way.â
âYouâre fucking with me,â Shinsou says. âFuck you, Iâve been prepping all /week/ for this.â
Aizawa frowns at him. âOh.â
âYeah.â Shinsou says.
âSo we both expectedââ
âYeah.â Shinsou sighs, rubbing his face.
Aizawa frowns at him. âOh.â
âYeah.â Shinsou says.
âSo we both expectedââ
âYeah.â Shinsou sighs, rubbing his face.
They sit for a moment, suddenly aware theyâve revealed a lot rather quickly, and awkwardness creeps in around the edges of the living room. Aizawa shifts uncomfortably underneath him. Shinsou thinks about how nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment.
âYou know, thereâs a meme about this,â Shinsou finally says into the silence.
âDonâtââ
âAnd so... they were both bottoms.â Shinsou grins down at him. Aizawa shoves him off his lap, standing with a groan.
âI /will/ leave if you keep talking like an idiot.â
âDonâtââ
âAnd so... they were both bottoms.â Shinsou grins down at him. Aizawa shoves him off his lap, standing with a groan.
âI /will/ leave if you keep talking like an idiot.â
âWill you though?â Shinsou lies back on the couch, watching the way Aizawa pulls his shirt over his shoulders, the white fabric shifting over a lean, well-muscled back patterned with scars.
âDonât test me,â Aizawa grunts, tossing his shirt on the floor before turning to face him. âMy fleshlight doesnât talk back nearly as much as you.â
The image of Aizawa on a bed, thrusting into a toy completely obliterates every thought in Shinsouâs mind. Heâs still sitting on the couch like an idiot by the time Aizawaâs standing there, completely naked, staring at him.
âChrist, I know Iâm not much but I expected /some/ reaction,â Aizawa says, one side of his mouth curling into a smile. Shinsou drops out of his daze like he stepped off a cliff.
âNo. No. Youâre,â he chokes out, words failing him for once in his life.
âNo. No. Youâre,â he chokes out, words failing him for once in his life.
Itâs /Aizawa/, lithe and muscular, dark hair gathering on his chest, trailing down his stomach, framing his dick. Thick. Thick dick. Shinsou can& #39;t stop staring.
âWhat?â Aizawa asks, reaching up to scratch his scalp. âCome on, letâs get going while weâre lucid, hm?â
âWhat?â Aizawa asks, reaching up to scratch his scalp. âCome on, letâs get going while weâre lucid, hm?â
Shinsou watches in an incoherent daze as Aizawa walks over, sits on the couch, rolls onto his knees as he starts working a plain black plug out of his ass, then promptly depositing in a box clearly meant for that exact purpose. Practical. Functional. Shinsou& #39;s brain is breaking.
Aizawa sighs, stands, digs around in the mess for a huge bottle of lube, gets back on the couch, and picks at the plastic on the lid.
âHot,â Shinsou says, because it takes that entire time for his brain to catch up. Aizawaâs disbelieving snort is loud in the quiet evening.
âHot,â Shinsou says, because it takes that entire time for his brain to catch up. Aizawaâs disbelieving snort is loud in the quiet evening.
âTook you that whole time to figure it out, huh?â
âHot, soâyou look so good, Sensei, I, fuck, Iâm,â Shinsou rambles, aimlessly moving towards him. Aizawa stops him with a warm hand on the center of his chest, and, shit, theyâre touching. His hand is on Shinsou and...
âHot, soâyou look so good, Sensei, I, fuck, Iâm,â Shinsou rambles, aimlessly moving towards him. Aizawa stops him with a warm hand on the center of his chest, and, shit, theyâre touching. His hand is on Shinsou and...
âYouâre a mess,â Aizawa says, eyebrows raised. âPull yourself together, kid. Try to last more than a minute.â
âHnng,â Shinsou says, because maybe heâs 27 and maybe heâs had plenty of sexual experience but, god, never with someone like this.
âHnng,â Shinsou says, because maybe heâs 27 and maybe heâs had plenty of sexual experience but, god, never with someone like this.
Never with someone he so desperately cares about, respects so much.
âThirty seconds, then?â Aizawa says in a mock helpful tone. Shinsou swallows hard, head roiling with hormones and arousal and sheer disbelief that this is his life and heâs living it.
âThirty seconds, then?â Aizawa says in a mock helpful tone. Shinsou swallows hard, head roiling with hormones and arousal and sheer disbelief that this is his life and heâs living it.
âUh, letâs find out.â
âSmooth. But fine. Go ahead, impress me.â Then he /presents/ like a fucking omega, all face down ass up and Shinsou has never seen anything hotter in his entire life and has absolutely no idea how Aizawa can make submitting look like a walk in the park.
âSmooth. But fine. Go ahead, impress me.â Then he /presents/ like a fucking omega, all face down ass up and Shinsou has never seen anything hotter in his entire life and has absolutely no idea how Aizawa can make submitting look like a walk in the park.
Already, Shinsouâs instincts are screaming at him to mate, claim, take and take andâhe breathes out slowly. Aizawa is obviously in control of himself. Shinsou can be too.
He puts a tentative hand on Aizawaâs ass, thrilled with the way he shivers under his hand.
He puts a tentative hand on Aizawaâs ass, thrilled with the way he shivers under his hand.
He bites at his lip mindlessly, marking the curve of Aizawaâs back, patchy with hair and scars, the black curls dripping over his shoulders.
âAny day now, champ.â
âNow youâre just /trying/ to annoy me.â
âIâm trying to get you to fuck me, actually,â Aizawa says drily.
âAny day now, champ.â
âNow youâre just /trying/ to annoy me.â
âIâm trying to get you to fuck me, actually,â Aizawa says drily.
Shinsou presses his lips together because Aizawa is in one of those moods, and if he doesnât want to just sass all day then one of them needs to shut up. So he strips off his clothes, tosses them carelessly on top of Aizawaâs things, then positions himself between Aizawaâs legs.
Unreal.
âGet on with it. Been prepped for ages.â Aizawaâs voice is gruff.
âRight.â Shinsou suppresses the urge to say something stupid like âhere goes,â and instead places his hands on Aizawaâs ass, inching forward until his dick is pressed up against him.
âGet on with it. Been prepped for ages.â Aizawaâs voice is gruff.
âRight.â Shinsou suppresses the urge to say something stupid like âhere goes,â and instead places his hands on Aizawaâs ass, inching forward until his dick is pressed up against him.
Heâs already half-hard, and itâs almost dizzying how quickly this is turning him on. But itâs /Aizawa/. His breath hitches, tripping in his throat, as he rocks against him slowly. Aizawa says nothing, but Shinsou takes comfort in his steady, measured breathing.
Shinsou grabs lube, cringing at the cold temperature, and then heâs ready. Nothing else to do. No reason to postpone, and Aizawa is obviously impatient. Heâd like to imagine this as some kind of point of no return, but the reality is that they passed that long, long ago.
He takes a deep breath, grips himself, and pushes the head of his dick into Aizawaâs ass. Aizawa grunts, shoulders tensing, but otherwise accepts it andâ
âFuck, youâre tight,â Shinsou sighs, unable to help the way he rocks forward. He pushes in slowly, so distracted by how good it feels, so tight and hot and, fuck. Aizawaâs grabbing at the couch, arms flexing, and maybe it isnât as easy for him to submit as Shinsou assumed.
Shinsouâs trying to be nice about it, moving so slowly itâs practically torture when every inch of him that touches Aizawa feels like heaven. But, finally, he bottoms out, bending over Aizawaâs back to wrap his arms around him, just to touch him.
Heâs finally allowed to /touch him/, run his hands up his stomach, his chest. Just holding him, tightly enough that he can hear Aizawaâs steady heartbeat, hear the long sigh he lets out.
Shinsou buries his face in the valley between his shoulder blades, nose tickled by Aizawaâs hair, and finally grinds forward. God, itâs tight, more than heâs used to, and itâs tying him up in tight knots of pleasure.
Then Aizawa groans.
Then Aizawa groans.
Groans like he feels /good/, hips pushing back against Shinsou. That alone nearly undoes him, but he finally starts to move, listening for every tiny hitch in Aizawaâs breath like his life depends on it.
âYou feel,â Aizawa breathes out, âgood.â
âYou feel,â Aizawa breathes out, âgood.â
Itâs praise. Itâs fucking approval, and the heady rush Shinsou gets is enough he doesnât even notice the way heâs stiffening, balls tightening as he suddenly comes from just three words.
He whimpers into Aizawaâs back, hands grabbing at his chest, hips twitching as he pushes deeper and he spurts helplessly into him, riding out his orgasm. Aizawaâs frozen, still, until Shinsouâs ragged breathing calms.
âI was actually joking about the thirty seconds thing, Shinsou.â
âShut up.â The words are muffled against Aizawaâs skin, and Shinsou would feel more embarrassed if he didnât feel so damn good. âYouâre the one who had to sound like fucking sex on a stick.â
âI said /one/ thing.â
âShut up.â The words are muffled against Aizawaâs skin, and Shinsou would feel more embarrassed if he didnât feel so damn good. âYouâre the one who had to sound like fucking sex on a stick.â
âI said /one/ thing.â
âSh,â Shinsou tells him, tightening his hug, adjusting the angle. Aizawa is tight around him, perfect really, and his knotâs already well on its way to full size.
Aizawa tries to pull away. Shinsouâs tugged along with him, whimpering a little at the sensation.
Aizawa tries to pull away. Shinsouâs tugged along with him, whimpering a little at the sensation.
âOh,â Aizawa says. âGoddamn it, Shinsou. How long are we gonna have to sit here, now?â
âHm, a while,â Shinsou says, smiling against Aizawaâs skin. He& #39;s nearly delirious with afterglow, and he probably won& #39;t be able to think clearly until his knot deflates enough to pull out.
âHm, a while,â Shinsou says, smiling against Aizawaâs skin. He& #39;s nearly delirious with afterglow, and he probably won& #39;t be able to think clearly until his knot deflates enough to pull out.
âIâm young and virile, remember?â
âI hate the youth,â Aizawa grumbles. âChrist, are you still getting /bigger/?â
âIsnât it great,â Shinsou says dreamily. Aizawa huffs, shifting uncomfortably.
âI hate the youth,â Aizawa grumbles. âChrist, are you still getting /bigger/?â
âIsnât it great,â Shinsou says dreamily. Aizawa huffs, shifting uncomfortably.
âItâs big, you shit. Youâre fuckingâare you sure itâs supposed to be soââ
âWhat?â
âNothing,â Aizawa says, face dropping back onto the couch. âItâs uncomfortable, okay? Iâm not fucking made for this.â
âThought I wasnât your first alpha,â Shinsou teases happily.
âWhat?â
âNothing,â Aizawa says, face dropping back onto the couch. âItâs uncomfortable, okay? Iâm not fucking made for this.â
âThought I wasnât your first alpha,â Shinsou teases happily.
Heâs come inside his lover, holding him in his arms⊠heâs happy, content.
âYouâre definitely the most annoying one,â Aizawa tells him. He sounds a little breathless.
âI try,â Shinsou purrs.
âYouâre definitely the most annoying one,â Aizawa tells him. He sounds a little breathless.
âI try,â Shinsou purrs.
The words rumble in his chest, the sound rough and unfamiliar and holy shit, heâs actually /purring/. Shinsou doesnât purr, but suddenly he canât stop, rubbing his cheek on Aizawaâs hair like a cat, hands stroking mindlessly over his chest.
The urge to take care of him is overwhelming, and all his attention is trained on Aizawa, enough that he canât miss the way Aizawaâs breaths are getting shallow, coming with tiny, uncomfortable sounds. Shinsou frowns, carefully shifting to get a look at his face.
âSensei, are you alright? It shouldnât be much longer.â
AIzawa turns his head to look at him, saying nothing. His face is flushed, eyes glassy, the corner of his mouth wet with drool. Concerned, Shinsou leans forward, unintentionally pushing deeper into him.
AIzawa turns his head to look at him, saying nothing. His face is flushed, eyes glassy, the corner of his mouth wet with drool. Concerned, Shinsou leans forward, unintentionally pushing deeper into him.
Aizawaâs eyes shoot open as Shinsou moves, and then he /moans/.
Aizawaâs not hurting. Heâs getting off on it. Shinsouâs suddenly dizzy with a second wave of arousal, and even if he definitely canât come again this fast, heâs unbearably turned on.
Aizawaâs not hurting. Heâs getting off on it. Shinsouâs suddenly dizzy with a second wave of arousal, and even if he definitely canât come again this fast, heâs unbearably turned on.
Still, he feels strangely perverted, like Aizawa isnât his to lust over. Even if heâs literally moaning on his dick. Shinsou breathes in deep, savoring the smell of Aizawaâs skin, the lingering scent of early morning and sleepy desire.
He finds himself kissing his way up Aizawaâs spine, murmuring, âDoes it feel good, Sensei?â
âBigâŠâ Aizawa sighs, shifting again. Shinsou realizes with a jolt that heâs fucking himself on Shinsouâs knot with tiny, precise movements.
âBigâŠâ Aizawa sighs, shifting again. Shinsou realizes with a jolt that heâs fucking himself on Shinsouâs knot with tiny, precise movements.
Heart pounding, Shinsou lets his hands wander back down Aizawaâs chest, following the trail of hair over his abs, to brush against his dick. Aizawa sucks in a breath, back stiffening.
A good sign? Shinsou takes a chance, wrapping his hands around AIzawaâs cock.
A good sign? Shinsou takes a chance, wrapping his hands around AIzawaâs cock.
Heâs hard, thick, the tip of it already wet with precum. It feels intimate. Shinsouâs heart aches with it, how close they are, how much he cares, and how badly he wants to take care of himâhormones. Hormones, it& #39;s all hormones.
Heâs just full of goddamn alpha rut hormones, and theyâre making him protective. Not for the first time, he wishes he could have been born something less irrational.
But Aizawaâs dick is still hot in his hands, and his choked-out moan as Shinsou starts to stroke him is enough to empty Shinsouâs mind of anything else except the feel of skin on skin.
âF-fuck,â Aizawa mumbles into the pillow, âmore, fuck, Shinsouââ
âF-fuck,â Aizawa mumbles into the pillow, âmore, fuck, Shinsouââ
Shinsou probably underestimated just how much his continual desire to please Aizawa would affect him, because suddenly nothing exists anymore except for Aizawa and his soft, barely-controlled grunts of pleasure.
Then Aizawaâs hands wrap around his, squeezing, guiding him to move faster. Shinsouâs natural instinct to seize control, have his way, is waylaid entirely by his fascination with Aizawa simply getting off.
Aizawa comes in probably the most anticlimactic way, with a drawn-out groan thatâs punctuated as he shoves his face into the couch cushion. Shinsou adores it, even if Aizawaâs grip on his hands is painfully hard in his attempt to apply pressure to his knot.
Aizawaâs pulse beats under his fingers, throbbing as he spills on the couch. His hands are hot on Shinsouâs, rhythmically milking himself through his orgasm, back tense and shaking beneath Shinsouâs chest.
God, it feels like it goes on forever, and it kind of feels like Shinsouâs finger bones are being ground together under Aizawaâs crushing grip. But Aizawa finally stills, face still on the couch, hands dropping from Shinsouâs as he goes limp. Shinsouâs happy to follow suit,
draped over Aizawaâs back like a blanket as they gradually relax.
Eventually, Shinsouâs able to slide out. Now that heâs not high on post-orgasm haze coupled with the whole dick-in-your-heroâs ass thing, heâs sort of mortified. Two thrusts. Two thrusts is all it had taken?
Eventually, Shinsouâs able to slide out. Now that heâs not high on post-orgasm haze coupled with the whole dick-in-your-heroâs ass thing, heâs sort of mortified. Two thrusts. Two thrusts is all it had taken?
At least his mate seems satisfied.
Mate? Shinsou stands abruptly, grabbing his shirt to wipe at himself. Aizawa grumbles something incoherent, still face-down and limp. Shinsou makes a vague excuse and hides in the kitchen on the pretense of getting water.
Mate? Shinsou stands abruptly, grabbing his shirt to wipe at himself. Aizawa grumbles something incoherent, still face-down and limp. Shinsou makes a vague excuse and hides in the kitchen on the pretense of getting water.
Aizawaâs probably dehydrated. His diet is still questionable at best, and Shinsou heads back to the living room with his arms full of water bottles and power bars. He finds Aizawa sitting on the floor, sleeping bag draped over his shoulders, poking at his laptop.
Shinsou drops everything on the floor, letting the water and snacks join Aizawaâs mess of clothes and papers andâare those printouts of their emails?
âYour work schedule is too busy,â Aizawa says by way of greeting. âYouâre never going to have a healthy sleep schedule this way.â
âYour work schedule is too busy,â Aizawa says by way of greeting. âYouâre never going to have a healthy sleep schedule this way.â
Shinsou blinks at him dumbly. âI brought you... fifteen bottles of water, I think. You& #39;re probably dehydrated.â
Aizawa sighs. âI hung up before I could bitch out your agency. I hate rut hormones; they always make me act... Well. You should still adjust your schedule, though.â
Aizawa sighs. âI hung up before I could bitch out your agency. I hate rut hormones; they always make me act... Well. You should still adjust your schedule, though.â
And then it clicks. Shinsou is stupid for thinking theyâd have some absurd dominance show-off. Instead, his protective instincts are off the charts. He wants to spend the next five years brushing Aizawaâs hair, wrapping him up in his sleeping bag and holding him andâ
âIâll take a look later,â Shinsou says, sitting behind Aizawa and draping his arms over his shoulders. Itâs getting dark out, and the light from the kitchen is too dim to do more than cast fuzzy shadows in the living room. âLetâs go to bed. Iâll carry your stuff.â
Aizawa looks up at him. âIâm not an omega, Shinsou. You donât need to baby me.â
Cool, cool. Itâs not really rejection, but Shinsou feels rejected anyway. He grabs an armful of their crap and heads to the bedroom, hoping Aizawa will follow on his own.
Cool, cool. Itâs not really rejection, but Shinsou feels rejected anyway. He grabs an armful of their crap and heads to the bedroom, hoping Aizawa will follow on his own.
Aizawa follows. Of course he does, naked except a pair of old black underwear and the sleeping bag slung over his shoulder. He looks grumpy. Shinsou suddenly wonders if heâs already overstepped Aizawaâs boundaries.
According to their emails, he hasnât. But⊠maybe heâd pushed too hard on this whole thing. Maybe Aizawa isnât comfortable with their shifting relationship, and he really doesnât seem as painfully eager as Shinsou is for more.
âI didnât mean to make you uncomfortable,â Shinsou says. Aizawa frowns. Shinsou cracks a window because it feels hot. Too hot, too much of Aizawaâs scent and heâs starting to feel it in his mind, crowding out his thoughts and replacing them with things like /mate/ and /protect/.
âYou didnât.â Aizawaâs voice is quiet. Shinsou looks out across the rooftops of the neighborhood, and wonders if locking himself in a small apartment with his former teacher really /was/ his brightest idea.
âYou seem uncomfortable,â Shinsou says. âOr reluctant.â
âYou seem uncomfortable,â Shinsou says. âOr reluctant.â
He finally turns around, only to see Aizawa on his bed, legs in his sleeping bag, juice pack halfway to his mouth. He looks⊠completely at ease. And vaguely guilty?
âIâm not, Iââ Aizawa cuts himself off, scrubbing his face. âI donât really know how to act.â
âIâm not, Iââ Aizawa cuts himself off, scrubbing his face. âI donât really know how to act.â
Shinsou is stunned. Heâs seen Aizawa be emotionally vulnerable maybe two or three times in his life, and only for momentous occasions.
When heâd said he was proud of Shinsou at graduation. A handful of times protecting his students, when the raw fear and determination on
When heâd said he was proud of Shinsou at graduation. A handful of times protecting his students, when the raw fear and determination on
his face was unmistakable. Once when they were working together underground, and heâd thought heâd been blinded. Shinsou had held his trembling body for hours until the blinding Quirk had worn off.
But vulnerable just for the sake of Shinsouâs questioning?
But vulnerable just for the sake of Shinsouâs questioning?
That had never happened. It doesnât matter how many emails they send. Sex is shifting things between them, in a way that leaves Shinsou hopelessly intrigued.
âI don& #39;t either,â Shinsou offers. Aizawa scoffs.
âI don& #39;t either,â Shinsou offers. Aizawa scoffs.
âNo, youâre just being incredibly awkward. Iâm trying not to be, not to be. Look, you know Iâm not an aggressive alpha. That doesnât mean I donât have any of the traits,â Aizawa continues, setting the juice pack down as he meets Shinsou& #39;s eyes.
Suddenly, the few feet of space between them seems far too small. Shinsou feels like /prey/, even though heâs supposed to be the hunter, not the hunted.
âWhat do you mean?â he asks.
âIâm not aggressive,â Aizawa says, staring him down, âbut Iâm very, very⊠possessive.â
âWhat do you mean?â he asks.
âIâm not aggressive,â Aizawa says, staring him down, âbut Iâm very, very⊠possessive.â
Shinsou swallows hard, remembering their emails. Marking. Alpha on alpha marks donât last any longer than it takes the bite to heal, andâAizawa snaps his teeth.
âYouâre possessive of me?â Shinsou asks, unable to hide his surprise. Aizawa rarely shows enthusiasm for anything.
âYouâre possessive of me?â Shinsou asks, unable to hide his surprise. Aizawa rarely shows enthusiasm for anything.
Even earlier, coming on Shinsouâs couch, heâd been painfully controlled.
âI donât like it when I canât control myself,â Aizawa says, once again astounding Shinsou with his honesty. âYou make it⊠hard to resist.â
âI donât like it when I canât control myself,â Aizawa says, once again astounding Shinsou with his honesty. âYou make it⊠hard to resist.â
âDonât resist, then,â Shinsou says, crossing his arms. âYou know what Iâm comfortable with.â In those godforsaken emails.
Aizawaâs lip twitches. He slides out of the sleeping bag, sitting on the edge of the bed. He raises a hand, limply gesturing for Shinsou to come over.
Aizawaâs lip twitches. He slides out of the sleeping bag, sitting on the edge of the bed. He raises a hand, limply gesturing for Shinsou to come over.
âBig talk from the big alpha,â Aizawa says. âIf itâs so easy, then come here and let me mark you.â
Shinsou obeys, coming to a stop between his legs. His blood is singing, either from the idea of Aizawa& #39;s teeth in his neck or from his commanding, grating tone. Probably both.
Shinsou obeys, coming to a stop between his legs. His blood is singing, either from the idea of Aizawa& #39;s teeth in his neck or from his commanding, grating tone. Probably both.
âOn your knees,â Aizawa says, smiling slightly. Shinsou glares at him.
âIs that necessary?â
âDo it.â
Shinsou bites back his retort, because heâs supposed to be behaving himself. He drops so fast his knees crack against the hardwood.
âIs that necessary?â
âDo it.â
Shinsou bites back his retort, because heâs supposed to be behaving himself. He drops so fast his knees crack against the hardwood.
Aizawa stares down at him, and Shinsou is suddenly reminded of his well-known sadistic side.
âWell?â Shinsou chokes out, rigid at the way Aizawa leans over him, elbows on his knees, suddenly looking amused. Aizawa reaches out a hand and pats his cheek condescendingly.
âWell?â Shinsou chokes out, rigid at the way Aizawa leans over him, elbows on his knees, suddenly looking amused. Aizawa reaches out a hand and pats his cheek condescendingly.
âGood alpha,â he says. âBare your neck for me.â
âAre you trying to make this harder?â Shinsou growls.
Aizawaâs hand drifts under his chin, nudging it up. Shinsouâs throat feels vulnerable, defenseless under Aizawaâs dark eyes.
âIâm trying,â Aizawa says, âto make this /fun/.â
âAre you trying to make this harder?â Shinsou growls.
Aizawaâs hand drifts under his chin, nudging it up. Shinsouâs throat feels vulnerable, defenseless under Aizawaâs dark eyes.
âIâm trying,â Aizawa says, âto make this /fun/.â
âFor who?â
âMe,â Aizawa says, leaning in. Shinsou can hear his pulse singing in his ears, and heâs nearly shaking with effort just to stay on his knees. Aizawa was right. Aizawa is always right, and /fuck/ itâs hard to let this happen.
âMe,â Aizawa says, leaning in. Shinsou can hear his pulse singing in his ears, and heâs nearly shaking with effort just to stay on his knees. Aizawa was right. Aizawa is always right, and /fuck/ itâs hard to let this happen.
But he does. Because Shinsouâs not an animal. And even if Aizawaâs stubble scratching at his throat has his hackles raised, he holds still. Aizawa mouths at his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses over sensitive scent glands.
âJust do it,â Shinsou hisses. He feels about five seconds away from grabbing Aizawaâs hair and yanking him down to a more acceptable level. Dick-level, maybe.
âIâll get to it,â Aizawa murmurs into his neck. âEventually.â
âWhat.â
âIâll get to it,â Aizawa murmurs into his neck. âEventually.â
âWhat.â
âItâs just practical, Shinsou,â Aizawa says, too-loud just beneath his ear. âCanât have you going all aggro-alpha in the middle of things. It makes sense to find out your limits now.â
âYou just want to mess with me.â
âYou just want to mess with me.â
He almost regrets saying it, because Aizawa reaches down, takes his dick in hand, and squeezes. Shinsou honest-to-god whimpers.
Heâs still riding the embarrassment of it when Aizawa says, âYeah, maybe. Turns out youâre fun to mess with.â
Heâs still riding the embarrassment of it when Aizawa says, âYeah, maybe. Turns out youâre fun to mess with.â
Shinsou presses his lips together, trying to bite back fighting words. Instead, he focuses on Aizawaâs breath hot on his neck, the way heâs working his dick into full hardness. It feels good.
Shinsou knows it feels good, and itâs not even that far from anything heâd do during normal sex.
But itâs not normal. And Aizawa told him to go on his knees, and heâd obeyed. Like a dog. Heâs trying /stay/ obedient. His chest feels tight, breath coming out in little whines.
But itâs not normal. And Aizawa told him to go on his knees, and heâd obeyed. Like a dog. Heâs trying /stay/ obedient. His chest feels tight, breath coming out in little whines.
âGood boy,â Aizawa croons, âdoing so good for me.â
âEat shit,â Shinsou says, because the alternative is launching off his knees and tackling Aizawa onto the bed. Aizawa pulls back, looking at him.
âEat shit,â Shinsou says, because the alternative is launching off his knees and tackling Aizawa onto the bed. Aizawa pulls back, looking at him.
âSuch a rude boy.â Heâs acting unimpressed, disinterested, and even if itâs obviously a charade, it gets under Shinsouâs skin. Aizawaâs head tilts, black hair falling across his face like a shadow. âSay sorry, Shinsou.â
Shinsou is trembling in place, feeling the way Aizawaâs hand slides to his throat, fingers digging into the side of his vulnerable neck. And fuck, Aizawa knows how he feels about his neck. Heâs going for the throat on purpose, because heâs testing Shinsou.
Shinsouâs in control of himself, but only barely. His hold on his instincts is razor thin, his teeth ache with the urge to bite back. He canât stop thinking about how /good/ Aizawa had felt under him, groaning around his knot. He could make it happen again.
Just needs to grab Aizawaâs hand, unbalancing him with a pull. He put him in his place, andâno. No.
âYouâre a dick,â Shinsou grits out. Aizawa runs his hand slowly up the length of Shinsouâs cock, thumb trailing over the head, his dark eyes on trained on Shinsou& #39;s face.
âYouâre a dick,â Shinsou grits out. Aizawa runs his hand slowly up the length of Shinsouâs cock, thumb trailing over the head, his dark eyes on trained on Shinsou& #39;s face.
âSo goddamn rude,â Aizawa says, his hold tightening on Shinsouâs throat and cock simultaneously. Shinsou bites back a groan, letting Aizawa tug his face closer by the neck. âCome on, say sorry to your alpha,â he murmurs. âI know you want to be good.â
âYou think,â Shinsou huffs out, âthat you can make me into some⊠into yourâŠâ
âInto my little obedient bitch,â Aizawa finishes for him. âYes, I do.â
Shinsou flinches, spine going straight. The urge to retaliate is inevitable, a shark swimming in his blood.
âInto my little obedient bitch,â Aizawa finishes for him. âYes, I do.â
Shinsou flinches, spine going straight. The urge to retaliate is inevitable, a shark swimming in his blood.
Itâs a testament to his desire to please Aizawa that he manages to stay on his knees, but thereâs more than one way to have power.
Shinsou knows all about taking control without being physical.
Shinsou knows all about taking control without being physical.
âGood,â Shinsou snarls. âYou want to talk about /good/? Why donât you tell me how long youâve wanted to fuck your /student/?â
Aizawa goes deathly quiet for a moment. Then he grins abruptly, horrifyingly. "About a week. How long have you wanted to fuck your teacher?"
Aizawa goes deathly quiet for a moment. Then he grins abruptly, horrifyingly. "About a week. How long have you wanted to fuck your teacher?"
Yeah, Shinsou had miscalculated. He& #39;s flushing red, unable to express that even his first wet dreams had been about Eraserhead, even if he is literally achieving those dreams as they speak. Then Aizawa& #39;s grin fades to a faint smile, and his hands drop from Shinsou& #39;s body.
"You don& #39;t have to answer, kid. I already know."
"Oh no, oh my god," Shinsou groans, dropping down to sit on the floor. This is becoming mortifying.
"Oh no, oh my god," Shinsou groans, dropping down to sit on the floor. This is becoming mortifying.
"You weren& #39;t exactly subtle," Aizawa says. His tone is perfectly practical, but Shinsou is still dying of humiliation. "I& #39;ve been teaching for over a decade. Student crushes are something you get used to deflecting."
"What changed, then?" Shinsou manages to ask.
"What changed, then?" Shinsou manages to ask.
"I don& #39;t know, ten years? And my arguably attractive colleague unexpectedly throwing himself at me when I am particularly⊠persuadable.â
Colleague? Aizawa sees them as equals, which Shinsou supposes should be obvious, given what they& #39;re doing.
Colleague? Aizawa sees them as equals, which Shinsou supposes should be obvious, given what they& #39;re doing.
Still, it leaves him feeling warm, mortification fading as quickly as it had come. Shinsou scoots forward, resting his elbows on Aizawaâs knees to look up into his face. Dark hair tickles his cheeks.
âItâs not every day a hot, young alpha drops right into my lap,â Aizawa adds, that faint smile still on his lips. âCan you really expect me to turn that down?â
Itâs clearly meant as a compliment, but it still rubs Shinsou the wrong way.
Itâs clearly meant as a compliment, but it still rubs Shinsou the wrong way.
Aizawa, regularly picking up hot, young alphas? Is Shinsou just another one? Why had Shinsou never heard about this part of his life? Aizawa /had/ said he wasnât his first alpha. Maybe⊠maybe this is a thing for Aizawa. That he likes. Shinsou isnât sure why that bothers him.
âYou get a lot of hot, young alphas then?â Shinsou asks, blinking slowly. Aizawaâs smile suddenly shows teeth.
âAs you love saying, Iâm 42. Iâve been around the block.â
Shinsou doesnât expect to feel his relative inexperience so acutely.
âAs you love saying, Iâm 42. Iâve been around the block.â
Shinsou doesnât expect to feel his relative inexperience so acutely.
Aizawa /is/ his first alpha, and he suddenly feels nerves. Not the warm, sparkling kind heâd had before Aizawa showed up. These feel like theyâre eating away at his stomach lining. He almost feels sick with it.
Shinsou looks down, noting a hole in Aizawaâs underwear. He can see a few hairs poking out. Why does he have to be so hopelessly attracted to him? Why does he feel so /much?/
Thereâs a low hum above him, then suddenly thereâs fingers on his chin, firmly tilting his face up.
Thereâs a low hum above him, then suddenly thereâs fingers on his chin, firmly tilting his face up.
Aizawa is staring down at him, eyes black as night.
âThatâs not why Iâm here, though,â he says slowly. Shinsou is speechless. Aizawa breathes out a small, self-effacing laugh. âI keep forgetting youâre not used to me teasing you like this. This is new for me too, you know.â
âThatâs not why Iâm here, though,â he says slowly. Shinsou is speechless. Aizawa breathes out a small, self-effacing laugh. âI keep forgetting youâre not used to me teasing you like this. This is new for me too, you know.â