pro-heroes #krbk // nsfw, hot tub sex, water as lube, accidental pissing, kink discovery

Bakugou is twenty-six the first time he actually /wants/ to take a vacation.

The commission is paying for everything—the transportation, the resort, the room service—it’s all part of their belated thank-you-for-your-service package that, frankly, is coming a decade too late.

But whatever.

He gets to pick his room from some half-baked slideshow in the email. Most of them look the same, all white sheets and sheer curtains and flat-screen TVs.

Except for the honeymoon suite.

Bakugou visually dissects the photo down to every last pixel, every last art piece and gaudy decoration, until he’s made up his mind.

Kirishima’s surprised to hear they’ll have next weekend off, since neither of them have ever put their allotted vacation days to use.

They’re used to overtime, used to treating that house they bought together as a glorified pit-stop—nothing but a soft bed and a clean shower and a waste of that mountain view Kirishima had wanted so badly. It sucks to think about for too long.

The day arrives, and Bakugou drags him onto the train, ignoring badgering questions and mock protests all the way to the resort.

Kirishima’s verbal flood doesn’t stop until they’re slotting the keycard into the door of their room, his cat eyes blowing wide as he takes it all in.

“Oh,” he whispers, dropping their bags at his feet, walking toward the bed to run a hand over the horrendously patterned duvet.

Bakugou’s stuck in place, unmoving as Kirishima explores the room—the big, make-believe fantasy of a honeymoon they probably won’t ever have.

And it hits him.

This is real. This is /theirs/.

There won’t be any police scanner static to interrupt them, no wailing sirens to call them awake in the dead of night.

Bakugou must’ve been running on pure exhaustion and desperation when he’d accepted the commission’s offer, not fully realizing what this would mean for them—for /him/.

Because for Bakugou, what is this but an overdue acknowledgment that he needs /Kirishima/ more than he needs to be a hero?

“Holy shit, babe.”

The color in Bakugou’s cheeks is feverish, the jackhammering of his heart ferocious as he turns to where Kirishima is standing, gaping at him like he can’t even /believe/.

And then, as Kirishima splits into a dagger-toothed grin, Bakugou’s body goes awash with calm.

How can he think about things like wasted youth and rushing time when Kirishima seems so /happy/?

“Can we?” he asks, tapping his foot like an impatient puppy would wag its tail.

Bakugou glances toward the second room, at the glass doors that separate them from a private balcony and an oversized jacuzzi.

Grinning, he kicks of his shoes, already reaching for the hem of his shirt.

“Come on, then.”

•••

The temperature is set as low as it’ll go, since Bakugou’s quirk keeps him running so hot, but the water is still warm enough to lull him into a trancelike state while their movements slosh it over the edges of the tub.

“There,” he gasps as Kirishima works a third finger inside him up to the knuckle. “Fuck, there.”

With a laugh like molten honey, Kirishima tightens his grip on Bakugou’s hip to help him fuck down onto his hand, leaving shallow bites and long licks over the arch of his chest.

Bakugou whines and drags him up to meet his mouth, kissing him like they’re sixteen and stumbling again, chasing each other through a mess of broken breaths and staggered sighs.

There’s all the time in the world, for once, but Kirishima is hard against Bakugou’s ass and both of them are starved for something that isn’t mindless rutting in the middle of the night, and it’s only another moment before Bakugou is easing himself down onto Kirishima’s cock.

“Ohh, Katsuki,” he breathes, stilling while Bakugou adjusts because it’s been /too damn long/.

He traces his thumbs over defined hips, over puffy nipples and up to Bakugou’s face, skimming his cheeks before pushing wet hair away from his forehead.

Bakugou feels exposed and adored under Kirishima’s gaze. He lets his legs part even wider outside of solid thighs, the dark fuzz of them made soft by the undulating water.

Clutching at Kirishima’s chest, Bakugou raises up, drops back down with a groan and a resulting /splash/.

“Fuck, give it to me, Red.”

Kirishima purrs against his throat, grinding his dick up hard and /deep/ enough to make Bakugou whine.

He works him up in a steady, slow rhythm, unhurried in a way that has Bakugou’s skin tingling whenever water laps over somewhere new.

Each glide of Bakugou’s cock over Kirishima’s abs has him falling further forward, until he’s reaching behind his lover to grab at the edge of the tub, clumsy and white-knuckled.

“Mm, feel that, baby?” Kirishima groans between wet, slapping sounds. “Feel me in there?”

Bakugou keens and drops his face into Kirishima’s neck, nosing at silky hair and mouthing at hot skin while Kirishima fucks him even slower, gentler, talking him through it the whole time—telling Bakugou how sexy he is, how much he’s missed this.

And it’s /so fucking nice/ in a way it never gets to be anymore, so nice that Bakugou’s eyes start to burn as the relief builds higher and higher, and he’s not sure if he’s laughing or sobbing when it finally crests, blazing and thrumming through his veins.

Oh, but—

He’s sure the water wasn’t quite /that/ warm just a second ago.

“/Shit/.”

He glances down to where their bodies are joining, and one look is all it takes to make out the slightly yellow tint the water has taken on.

He’d gotten so relaxed that he motherfucking /pissed/ himself.

Bakugou’s still shaking in Kirishima’s arms, and it takes his partner another moment to realize what’s happened before he goes still, keeping a palm at the small of Bakugou’s back.

“Babe,” he says evenly, pulling back to find Bakugou’s tear-stained visage. “Did you just—“

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Kirishima murmurs, and Bakugou’s eyes fly open at the unexpected reverence in his voice, the warm, sugar-sweetness of it.

“What?”

“That—that’s so hot, Katsuki, christ.”

Bakugou blinks the water from his lashes, drawing back and nearly shouting in surprise when Kirishima catches him in a deep, searing kiss.

He feels Kirishima’s cock twitch inside him, feels the vibration of a moan against his lips, against his chest where Kirishima’s is pressing.

Shuddering, he pulls away, searching that dark red stare. “You... you’re—“

“Can I keep going?” Kirishima blurts, teeth clamping over his bottom lip.

Something like hope shoots up Bakugou’s spine, spreading over the back of his neck, crawling along his cheeks to stain them pink.

He’s embarrassed and unsure, but Kirishima looks so /eager/, and Bakugou will be damned if he lets himself ruin this.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, he nods.

Kirishima lights up, releasing a delicate whine of his own before lifting Bakugou up and off his cock to maneuver onto his knees.

“Wait, what are you fucking—/haah/“

He cuts off with a yelp as Kirishima lays him horizontal, both arms hooked beneath his shoulders to hold him above the water as he slams back inside to the hilt.

“Ei, Ei, Ei,” Bakugou’s chanting, boneless against the onslaught of his boyfriend’s cock and the rush of water on either side of his head.

Kirishima never lets him slip, even as he’s balanced on slippery knees, even as he fucks Bakugou in earnest. It’s an impressive show of strength that has Bakugou clenching around him, pinching at his own chest for /something/ to hold onto.

“Kat, /nngh/, honey. You’re so tight. Gonna make me come.”

Bakugou’s mouth falls open on a moan, just shy of catching an accidental gulp of water.

If he thought they were making a mess of the floor before, it’s /flooded/ now, tiles getting re-soaked with every snap of Kirishima’s hips.

He’s still not sure what got Kirishima so riled up, but he’s thankful for the chlorine to mask the scent of his piss, glad for the low roar of the jets to save him that last shred of his pride.

Then again, Kirishima has always loved Bakugou for the parts of himself he thought were ugly. What the fuck is one more?

He reaches up, clawing at Kirshima’s flexing biceps, taking in the sight of his mussed, wet hair and tensing jaw.

The skyline below their balcony paints him in neon violet, highlighting soft wrinkles and stubble and battle scars. Bakugou’s heart flutters at the sight of him, already so much older than when they met, but still the same, spirited boy he fell in love with back in high school.

It’s the unexpected wave of emotions that finally triggers his orgasm.

His back arches high as he spills over his stomach and chest, untouched, while Kirishima thrusts hard and fast, not letting up in pursuit of his own release.

“Baby, baby, I’m—/fuck./”

His cock pulses deep, hitting Bakugou’s prostate one more time before he’s coming, filling Bakugou up until they’re both oversensitive, until some of it leaks back out into the tub.

Kirishima shudders, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Pulling Bakugou off his softening cock, he leans back against the wall of the tub, guides that blond head of hair under the crook of his arm and holds him tight to his chest.

“God,” he breathes, stroking over Bakugou’s shoulder. “I needed that.”

“Mmm.”

It’s still cloudy in Bakugou’s head, still muddled and warm and nonsensical.

But it’s sort of like magic, or maybe a second quirk, how safe and fucking /wanted/ Kirishima makes him feel.

How they can slump against each other in a mess of dirty water and feel more put-together than they have in /years/, how full Bakugou’s heart feels when Kirishima tugs him close to kiss against his forehead, damp and chaste.

Bakugou must’ve started to doze off in the tub, because the next thing he knows, Kirishima is draping him over a pile of pillows, snaking an arm over his stomach to slot their chilly bodies together beneath the covers.

He thinks he manages a “Love you, Eijirou,” before sleep claims him fully.

If not, that’s okay. He can tell him tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...

And maybe, just maybe, someday, they’ll have time to do this honeymoon vacation thing for real.

end

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