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Despite being unemployed as hell, Deku still managed to be a loser like it was his full time job.
He’d lost his fair share of bets, mostly because he was unrelentingly stubborn to a lifelong fault, but losing to a mob of his gal pals with so much on the line was a new form of punishment.
They arrived late because everyone had to get their makeup and hair done together. Friends clamored in Ashido Mina’s cramped dorm room, a smog of sticky hairspray draped heavy in the air, makeup strewn across the floor as girls took their seats at every available space.
“You know what they say.” Mina’s mouth curved as she applied mascara to Deku’s lashes with a deft, quick hand. “Hell is a teenage girl.”
“Ha-ha,” Deku intoned. “Let’s just do this.”
“You act like it’s gonna be a bad night.” Mina mimed parting her lips and Deku imitated while she applied a sheen of lip gloss to him. “This is gonna pull in the guys like your nerdy cargo pants and baggy tees never could.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in pulling,” Deku muttered as she fluffed at his hair. Thankfully, no one had deemed it necessary to do anything to his curls.
“Oh please.” Mina stood up and smoothed down the royal purple and pumpkin orange cheerleader uniform. The DK imprinted in the same garish orange across her glittering, push-up bra tits. “You’re gagging for it and getting desperate. I see the twinks you’ve been picking up. Not even your type anymore. When was the last time you actually bottomed?”
“The spookiest thing about this holiday is the terrifyingly inaccurate character assassination you’re pulling on me.”
“You’re assassinating your sex life recently. You should be thanking me for its revival.”
“I’m more concerned with how involved you are in who sticks their dick in me.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? Someone should be sticking it in you .”
“My dick in me? Brutal.”
“Shut up and put on your skirt, Jennifer.”
Upon arrival, the off-campus house was pulsing heavy and hard with the party. From the bitter outside cold, the windows illuminated red, the inner guts beating with a fevered heart rate. The door was unlocked, and Mina confidently led the line of cheerleaders into the fray.
Hoots and hollers of appreciation followed them, all of which Deku assumed were not for him, and he was glad he was short enough to blend in with some of the taller girls who confidently invaded the mayhem.
Deku wasn’t embarrassed to wear a skirt, but he wasn’t exactly confident about it either. He could feel the heavy fabric flounce around his thick thighs, bouncing off his ass and swishing around his hips with every step. He felt like eyes were on the back of his legs the moment he entered. A hot flush rushed down his thighs and lingered.
Fortunately, he wasn’t given time to linger on his insecurities. The girls dragged him away in a perfumed cloud, shoving him into the living room where a drink was delivered to his hand in a festive orange Solo cup. Ochako wrapped her arms around him from the back and then he was within their closed, comforting circle of girl friends, safe and getting buzzed fast.
The first few hours blended together with conversation, the briefest flash of a blunt passed to him once and then gone, then a sunken, comfortable couch that cradled him down the center, surrounded by his friends. Yes, Denki sat on Mina’s lap directly beside him, practically eating each other’s faces, but the nature of parties was to embrace it.
Somewhere in the pleasant haze of thundering music, pretending he remembered people who approached him and spoke to him like friends, and realizing his Solo cup was once more empty, Deku ended up alone at the keg and drinks table.
“You lose a bet or just that desperate for attention?”
Deku spun and found himself faced with a guy double-fisting two cups, dressed in an olive jumpsuit marked with alien looking patches on the chest and upper arms. Ripley from Alien.
“Are you winning a bet by talking to me or are you just so closeted you’d accept the challenge if it meant talking to an out and proud gay guy?”
The blonde narrowed his eyes, shifted his stance.
“No bet.”
“Really?” Deku turned and filled his cup from the keg. “Then you pick up guys by insulting them first or is this a hate crime brewing? Because I’ll warn you ahead of time. If this goes south, I’ll snap every finger you try to lay on me.”
Sharp, dark eyebrows jolted upward. Deku eyed the pristinely bleached styled hair and pointedly decided not to appreciate how sharply handsome he was. Big shoulders, little waist defined by the jumpsuit, sexy fuck-off black boots.
“Ouch,” the guy said, but he was smirking, unpleasantly self-assured. Pretty, straight white teeth. “You’re real fuckin’ argumentative.”
Deku shrugged and sipped his watery, boring beer. It was probably some kind of Lite.
“You’ve given me no reason to be otherwise. I’ll wait.”
Thankfully, Deku didn’t choke on his drink when Ripley approached a step, looming over him with that unflinchingly satisfied look on his face.
“Y’know, usually a guy likes what he sees and looks past the shitty pick-up line.”
“Am I supposed to be the guy who likes what he sees?” Deku pointedly did not step away and met the guy’s eyes instead. Unusual color, a bright, fiery hazel, like cinnamon. “Try again.”
They held eye contact for longer than was normal, and any normal guy would consider Deku a weirdo and leave him alone. This guy just looked him up and down.
“I like your outfit,” he said. He had a voice that matched his eye color, warm, kindling interest in Deku’s belly.
“Thanks.” Deku politely took a step in retreat, hoping to ease the instant state of attraction he found himself in with this obvious fuckboy asshole. “I lost a bet.”
Despite himself, Deku smiled at the guy’s surprisingly brash, loud laugh.
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“You couldn’t have said that?”
Deku gestured between them with his drink.
“I’m not good at being hit on and you’re not good at hitting on people. I don’t know how much luck you’ve had with the hot douchebag routine before, but consider workshopping it.”
“Worked for me so far.”
“If you say so.”
“And you admit I’m hot.”
Deku rolled his eyes and finished off his drink.
“I respect myself too much for this conversation.”
And yet he stayed. This was the most engaging conversation he’d had all night.
“What was the bet you lost?”
“Bet my friend I could get her boyfriend to pass his Criminal Justice midterms or else I’d be at her whims until December.” Deku refilled his drink and could feel the guy’s gaze drop to his ass. “Failed. At best, he’s going to be writing parking meter tickets for his entire life.”
If Deku couldn’t help Denki get through university, he wasn’t sure who could. The guy just needed to start over altogether. Surely Mina would wait for him like some kind of pining sea wife until he finally completed college.
“You took Criminal Justice?”
“Yes. Please look more incredulous, I dare you.”
Ripley finished off one of his Solo cups and literally threw it over his shoulder. Was party paraphernalia littered all over the house anyway? Yes, but come on.
“You don’t seem like someone who wants to be a pig.”
“Your charm is really rocketing you further into my pants by the second. I’m in Criminal Psych.”
The guy’s face crumpled, nose scrunched.
“Ew. Soft sciences.”
It was Deku’s turn to laugh, and unfortunately, Ripley had a sharp, handsome smile to match.
“Asshole. What’s yours, then?”
“Forensic chemistry.”
“You?” It was Deku’s turn to overtly check him out. The jumpsuit was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing solidly muscled arms. “You’re going to hide a body like that in a morgue?”
Ripley’s eyebrows jumped, his smile pleased. Deku was walking right into this and the guy’s obnoxious behavior was somehow making it easier because Deku didn’t have to be nice in return. Deku was a nice guy, but they hadn’t exactly started off on the best foot and somehow they both clearly wanted to bone without the niceties usually involved. Not that Deku was going to bone him. But the implication didn’t hurt.
“More like investigating crime scenes,” the guy said. “Maybe I’ll see you some time.”
Deku outreached his Solo cup and ceremoniously tapped it to Ripley’s.
“I look forward to the moment in adulthood when we lock eyes over a dead body.”
“Sorry if I’m interrupting this absolutely diabolical line of conversation,” said a purple haired guy dressed like. . .sexy BRAT album cover? Gay costumes were so weird. “But you’re standing in front of the vodka, Bakugou.”
“Fuck off,” said the guy apparently called Bakugou.
“Here.” Deku handed BRAT the entire bottle. He smiled. “Enjoy.”
The stranger gave him a slow up and down, grinning lazy and slow.
“Thanks, Jennifer.”
And then he was gone.
“Your name isn’t Jennifer,” Bakugou said with a frown, looking him over with a stark intensity so opposite from the man who’d just left.
“And your name is Bakugou.”
“No shit, soft science. What’s your name?”
As Deku considered telling him, Mina swept in with Toru at her side, the both of them immediately linking arms with him.
“Flippy cup!” she yelled over the music. “Come on, we can’t miss flippy cup!”
Deku laughed and didn’t have it in him to argue. He was really good at flippy cup. Talented hands.
“Sorry,” Deku called over his shoulder, laughing as he was dragged away. “We can’t miss flippy cup!”
Bakugou frowned at him the entire way out of the room.
The dance floor was a dank, unfinished basement, the ceiling low and twisted with a maze of pipes and genuine cobwebs overhead, the concrete floor unforgiving beneath their feet. Someone turned on a giant box fan and sat it on a table, the breeze disturbing all the little hanging paper bats in a flurry. Dancers in various states of undress bounced and sweat and grinded, a mass of fading perfume, body odor, and skunky weed.
Deku loved his skirt. His sweat dried, his legs catching the meager breeze, and the occasional hand dragging up his leg to appreciate him was completely welcome in the delighted daze he’d drifted into over the course of the party. Then again, it was always Mina’s hands or the other cheerleaders he’d arrived with, so maybe it just felt fucking good to be one of the girls tonight.
His hips swirled and rolled in time to dig through the ditches and burn through the witches, when a big, possessive hand fit to the small of his waist and turned his attention in a circle.
“Oh.” Deku smiled. “It’s you.”
“How you doin’, soft sciences?”
Deku laughed despite himself, his sense of ease loosened by liquor. His pelvis shifted forward, his stomach meeting the knot of Bakugou’s now belted sleeves tied around his waist. He was down to a white, tank top, muscles on distracting display. Bakugou held him more firmly, both hands with an oddly respectful grip on his waist instead of anywhere more daring.
“I think I prefer Jennifer,” Deku said.
“Not sure it suits you.”
“And soft sciences does?”
Big palms slowly traveled up Deku’s waist, over his rib cage, and back down, lower, fingertips just skimming past the skirt to brush skin.
“You are soft,” Bakugou murmured.
Deku exhaled, shaky and slow, his head spinning.
“Not in a few minutes.”
There was that damn smile again, bold and devastating. Deku preferred him scowling.
“So, is this your way of picking up guys,” he asked, ducking his head closer to Deku’s burning face. “Should I be learning from you?”
“You came to me, actually. That’s more accurately how I pick up guys.”
The two of them were barely dancing, Bakugou’s large hand fit perfectly in the dip of Deku’s back, commanding him closer.
“Pretty privilege,” Bakugou said, still smiling, his attention scanning Deku’s face, from eye to eye, to mouth, to hair.
“I like that nickname even less,” Deku said with a pout.
“You’re hilarious.”
Deku gasped.
“I think that’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”
“Not sure about that.”
“Mmm, well, I’m too drunk to argue.”
That grin was back, ransacking the vestiges of Deku’s defenses.
“I’m also not sure about that.”
Deku leaned in and laughed, his forehead resting on Bakugou’s hard chest. He smelled good, like mulled spice and warm, earthy sweat. Comforting on a cold night. Only when Bakugou’s frame began to rumble did Deku realize he’d been rubbing his face into Bakugou’s chest until he’d laughed.
“Ugh.” Deku pulled back with a wobbly smile. “Sorry. I really am drunk and don’t usually stay up late. Don’t drink often either. Is my mascara smeared?”
“A little.” Bakugou leaned in and suddenly all his sharply handsome beauty was up close and personal, his concentration solely on Deku as he cupped Deku’s face in his hands and gently wiped the pad of his thumbs beneath Deku’s wide eyes. “Fixed.”
Deku shot him a narrow look.
“You’re being much more charming now.”
“Maybe I’m kinda drunk too.”
“Stop making me smile so much,” Deku said, doing it anyway.
Bakugou leaned in, perfect teeth flashing in return. Quietly, he replied.
“I can think of a few ways.”
Deku’s stomach swooped, wild and fluttering. Mina had been right. No one had hit on him in a long time. Not like this. Not like Deku was the prey, the one to be swallowed and taken. The rush was instant and heady, dizzying. He melted.
Bakugou’s nose brushed Deku’s, their lips a hot, wet whisper away. Deku inhaled sharply as the big palms cupping his face eased his jaw up, their gazes close enough to nearly go cross-eyed. Deku hummed, easing forward, heart caught in his throat. A shiver passed between them, a fissure before the fall.
“DEKU!”
Deku swayed in Bakugou’s embrace and turned, blinking blearily back into the beating heart of the party.
“Deku?” came Bakugou’s voice at his ear, still keeping him by the waist. “The hell kinda name is that?”
“Come on,” Mina said, grabbing at Deku’s wrist and yanking without mercy. “I need some air and so do you. Let’s go.”
Before Deku could shake out of his near-kiss induced stupor, he was being hauled up the creaky basement stairs and away from a lost opportunity.
Briefly, Deku looked over his shoulder and made a theatrically sad face at Bakugou standing still among the dancing crowd. He sent a pathetic little fingery wave that had Bakugou’s exasperated smile breaking out just before Deku disappeared upstairs.
“He’s a player,” Mina said without preamble as they dove into the sloppy mess of a dissolving party on its last legs. Bodies sticky from celebrations and libations bumped and bashed into them from all directions as Mina led Deku toward the kitchen. “I’m doing you a favor.”
“I thought you were doing me a favor by making sure I get boned,” Deku said as he snatched a gangly skeleton from a kitchen table and jerkily directed the bony hand in a jack-off motion.
Mina rolled her eyes, but laughed anyway.
“Yeah, well, Bakugou is a different story. He’ll break your heart. He’s used to getting whoever he wants and he doesn’t stick around.”
Deku made a face and accepted the bottled water Mina dug from the fridge. He didn’t even know whose house this was.
“So it sounds like we’re the same. Not that I get whoever I want. But I don’t exactly stick around either. I’ve got school to focus on, a career. Sounds like he’s on the level.”
Over a long drink of water, Mina cast a discerning eye upon him.
“Yeah, maybe,” she finally said.
Deku looked at her a long moment.
“Oh my god,” he said. “You fucked him!”
Mina choked on her water and gaped.
“That was years ago!”
Deku burst into laughter.
“Wait, did he break your heart? No way. There’s no way!”
“He told me he was gay after we fucked!” Mina’s face contorted somewhere between horror and deep amusement. “Like, I was the last straw or something! Do you know how many people love my tits? And yet it was these beauties that turned the tables for this dude? You can’t fuck the guy who had his gay awakening the morning after me!”
Deku was already on the floor, slipping down during the rant, his knees weak with humor, the cold tile bracing on his bare thighs. Futilely, he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter with one hand, but eventually dissolved into giggles, his limbs going limp.
With a helpless laugh, Mina joined him on the floor. Shoulder to shoulder, backs to the cabinets, sharing a water bottle as party-goers threaded in and out of the room.
“I may have overreacted,” Mina said.
Deku rolled his attention toward her, his grin lopsided, expression adoring.
“That’s alright.”
“You should probably go for it. He’s so hot.”
“You have a boyfriend, Mina.” Deku giggled when Mina punched his arm.
“Shut up. I’m just acknowledging my own good taste.”
“Yeah.” Deku licked his lips, reminiscing over Bakugou’s big hands so gently cradling his cheeks. “Pretty shitty gaydar, though.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Mina’s loud, bawdy laugh filled the room and Deku snickered along, his slowly clearing head resting upon Mina’s soft, fragrant shoulder.
“I’m glad I lost the bet,” Deku said quietly.
“I’m glad you wore that skirt,” Mina replied with a smile in her voice.
Deku hummed in agreement, rubbing his lips together in deep thought.
“This wasn’t exactly how I imagined it happening,” Bakugou said as they stood on either side of Denki’s unconscious body in the wet evening grass. He’d already been laid on his side and was snoring peacefully. He absolutely reeked of Goldschläger. Little specks of gold leaf stuck to his mouth.
“Probably for the best,” Deku said, nodding, his arms folded across his chest as he considered the sight. “Who even brings Goldschläger to a college party?”
“Someone who is used to raiding their parents’ liquor cabinet.”
“He’s twenty. He doesn’t need to.”
“He’s also an idiot. You know him?”
“Yeah, he is the fault in my bet.”
“Denki? Man, you fucked up. They’re not even gonna let him write parking tickets. He’s gonna be on permanent traffic direction duty.”
“I wouldn’t trust this man to direct traffic on a one way street.”
“Mina is coming to get him,” Deku said, his attention on his phone to text her.
“She gonna pull you away from me for a third time?”
Deku abruptly looked up and he could feel the way his own cheeks ached with a smile.
“She’s just trying to save me from you.”
Bakugou scowled, looking grumpy and young. His complete inability to hide his emotions was already Deku’s favorite thing about him.
“I figured that out the second time around.”
Deku slipped away his phone, thankful for skirts with pockets, but his gaze was glued to the guy across from him. Poised, watchful.
“Well, third time’s the charm.”
Bakugou cut a smile in the dark, the house’s red glow cascading across his sharp features.
“Whose bedroom is this?” Deku breathlessly asked as his back thumped against the locked door.
“Don’t even know whose house this is,” Bakugou mouthed against Deku’s throat. Hot breath, damp lips, a long lick at Deku’s jaw while frantic hands streaked over his thighs and kneaded up beneath his skirt.
“Oh.” Already panting, Deku grappled with Bakugou’s tank top, hiking up the hem to paint his hands across hard, perfect abs. “Good. That’s good.”
“God, your fuckin’ legs.” Bakugou rasped the words to Deku’s temple and sharply turned his head to capture Deku’s parted, gasping lips. Sucked at Deku’s tongue without preamble, impatiently licking the flavor right out of him, messy and commanding. Bakugou’s body, heavy with muscle and intention, kept Deku pinned to the door, both big hands still searching the length of Deku’s thighs and hips, thumbs digging into the soft crease of leg to pelvis secreted up his skirt.
Devoured. Flattened and blissfully powerless, Deku allowed himself to be devoured.
Dizzy and too overwhelmed for someone who didn’t yet have his clothes off, Deku moaned into Bakugou’s mouth, taking and taking the thorough, deliberate tongue-fucking Bakugou thrust past his teeth and tongue. Submitted to Bakugou’s ravenous hands working Deku’s underwear down his ass, leaving the band taut and stretched beneath his ass so Bakugou could take brutal fistfuls of each cheek, kneading and parting them until Deku panted with need.
“We should be horizontal,” Deku managed, his jaw aching when Bakugou finally gave his swollen mouth a break.
“Mmm,” was Bakugou’s distracted reply as he, to Deku’s abject shock and spiking pulse, dropped to his knees, pushed Deku’s skirt up around his waist, and rubbed his face to Deku’s quivering stomach with a long, indulgent inhale. “Yeah. Bed.”
When the leaking head of Deku’s dick bumped up against Bakugou’s chin, Deku frantically yanked him by the hair. Bakugou hissed but shockingly allowed it, his hot eyes flaring up as their gazes caught.
“Please tell me you’re clean,” Deku said in a rush, his cock obscenely peeking from the top of his panties.
“I am.” Bakugou’s attention flicked to Deku’s cock and back up, a searing hot stare. “Can I?”
“Fuckyes.”
“Then I’m gonna fuck you after,” Bakugou gritted out, his bruising grip on Deku’s hips flexing as if holding on with his final splinter of patience for consent. The way Bakugou matched eye contact, demanded it, when most of Deku’s one-night stands were a turn-around-and-take-it type of guy, had Deku rock hard before he’d even been touched.
Unsure he could even breathe, let alone speak, Deku merely licked his lips and nodded. Flexed his hips forward, the crown of his cock bumping Bakugou’s chin.
Bakugou smiled, devastating and sharp, before he ducked his head and licked up the line of Deku’s dick, soaking through the panties, followed by a series of wet, exuberant sucks. Deku’s knees nearly melted beneath him.
“We've got to get our clothes off,” Deku said to the ceiling.
And Bakugou was apparently on the very same page because he groaned in reply and slid Deku’s underwear down to his knees, claiming Deku’s dick with the hot, tight haven of his enthusiastic mouth. Deku made a noise he’d be embarrassed by later and lifted his skirt with both hands, clenching and crumpling the fabric in his hands to keep from snatching Bakugou’s hair and fucking into him with pure desperation.
But this couldn’t last. Deku couldn’t let it end like this. This guy had Top written all over his intentions and Deku was desperate to get what he really wanted for once.
When Bakugou gagged on Deku’s dick, the sound careening Deku off the rails, he quickly shoved Bakugou’s head away with a pathetic whine. Wet, hot honeyed eyes looked up at him, Bakugou leaning back against his heels to catch his breath, and for a moment they simply stared at each other.
“You need to get our clothes off,” Deku repeated, rough and rushed. “Now. Now.”
They separated with admirable dedication to the mission, each pausing to struggle with shoes and socks while ignoring their painfully obvious boners. Their frantic hands joined to unknot the arms of Bakugou’s jumpsuit from around his wickedly taut waist, only pausing for a brief, messy kiss before Deku shoved him to the bed, tore the uniform from Bakugou's legs, and flung it to the floor, boxers and all.
He pounced on Bakugou, desperate and unashamed to touch him, taste him, ruin them both.
“The skirt stays on,” Deku said, slapping away Bakugou’s wandering hands from the back zipper.
“Fuck, okay,” Bakugou immediately relented, his eyes wide and wondrous on Deku. Unwavering hunger that had Deku preening with a familiar power he’d missed. Bakugou would undoubtedly fuck the life out of him, but Deku would be on top. He got to watch the devotion rise in Bakugou’s face, the desperation devour him until Deku let him go wild, fuck up into him mercilessly. Force Deku to let go.
“Holy shit you’re hot,” Bakugou mumbled, seemingly without realizing the words left his mouth. “The second you walked through the door I—”
“I didn’t bring lube.” Deku cursed, followed immediately by a whine as he braced his hands on Bakugou’s chest and tilted his hips to mindlessly rut his dick against Bakugou’s flat, rippling stomach. “Fuck, nnn, what—”
“Oh my god,” Bakugou whispered, like shock or a prayer, Deku was too intent on torturously getting himself off against a hot, willing guy to figure it out. “You’re so—my pants. It’s in my fuckin’ pants! You gotta—”
“Why do I have to?” Deku pouted, his bottom swollen lip catching on his teeth as he cast a longing look over his shoulder and to the floor, which seemed awfully far away.
“You’re the one who wanted to be on top, freckles,” Bakugou said, not sounding at all sorry about it. His hands were still busy adoring his legs, the back of his knuckles skimming up Deku’s cock in a way that sent sparkles crackling and popping.
“Shit, okay,” Deku whispered in a rush, quickly lofting a leg over Bakugou’s body and rushing to rummage through the pockets of the coveralls. He ripped off one packet of lube, then two, and decided on going with the condom in the end, for clean up purposes. This was someone else’s room, after all.
When Deku stood and turned, Bakugou was sitting on the edge of the bed, buck naked. He grinned, leaning back on his hands, the confident display of his impressive body completely melting any shock Deku.
“Hello,” Deku said breathlessly.
“Think we’re a little beyond hellos,” Bakugou said, all sinful smiles. “Come here.”
Deku didn’t have to be told twice. Well, he often did, but not tonight. Not with a chance of a lifetime laid out in front of him. Deku enthusiastically planted himself on Bakugou’s lap, unable to cap the escaping giggle when they had to maneuver further back on the bed so Deku’s knees had a place to rest.
“Since I walked through the door, hmmm?” Deku tossed the packets to the mattress and ripped one open, holding eye contact with Bakugou as he emptied the lube over those long, clever fingers.
“What, you want me to talk you up?” Bakugou smirked even as he wrapped a firm arm around Deku’s waist, dragged him in close, and reached around to sneak beneath Deku’s skirt for an initial touch to his hole. “This ain’t enough?”
“Fuck!” Deku’ whimper tapered into a soft, vulnerable sound, his posture slumping, his brow dropping to Bakugou’s shoulder, the small of his back arching to present his ass more fully into Bakugou’s hand. “It’s enough, s’enough. I’m up. So up.”
A rumble of amusement gently shook Bakugou’s wide, fever-hot chest and Deku couldn’t help but smile into the moan working through his throat at the first slick finger. Deku hadn’t been fucked in a hot minute, but he’d been fucking himself plenty. He didn’t need to be babied into this. He wanted it how he wanted it, and he wanted it now.
“I can take two easy,” Deku whispered in Bakugou’s ear. Caught the lobe between his teeth and tugged, licking the sore spot until Bakugou groaned deep. “Come on, big guy,” Deku cooed, only hissing when Bakugou followed instruction and slipped in a second, working him over deep and slow and even. “I’m not delicate.”
“H-holyshit.” Bakugou’s voice shook. He was affected.
Deku smiled, his eyes blissfully shut as he rocked and rode those steady fingers. He hummed in a growing haze, nuzzling and kissing and nipping at Bakugou’s jaw and neck and shoulder, licking up the collecting sweat prickling Bakugou’s skin.
“‘Kay,” Deku managed, swallowing hard, his hips moving in time with the increasing slick slap of Bakugou’s hand. “You—you can, you—fuck me, hah, please.”
Bakugou groaned like a broken man, the arm with which he’d been steadying Deku squeezing him hard, a solid proof of strength. Deku’s heart soared. He was sweating in his uniform, the back of his knees and the crease of his thighs wet, his dick wetter, caught between their increasingly unsteady grind and getting his skirt sticky and damp.
“You could just throw me around, huh,” Deku breathed out, delirious and the man didn’t even have his dick in yet. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had chemistry like this. Ever. Bakugou was strong and confident, but so was Deku. The fact that he felt comfortable letting it go with Bakugou was a phenomenon.
“Could,” Bakugou said, hoarse and panting hard, his cock a hot, thick brand beneath Deku. A promise of more. “If you want.”
If you want. The promise of everything .
“Maybe next time,” Deku pulled back enough to look Bakugou in the eye, and oh, that may not have been the best idea. He was a sight, sinful. Mouth flushed pink with exertion and sharp cheekbones to match, those oddly fiery hazel eyes swollen black with pupil, all that blonde hair awry and stuck to his temples and brow.
“In my bed,” Deku added. Giving a promise in return.
“Deku,” Bakugou breathed out.
A fire rushed through Deku’s frame in swift, sweltering reply.
“Fuck me, handsome,” Deku murmured against Bakugou’s part lips. Kissed his mouth slow and decadent, savoring the smoky flare of whiskey and earth on Bakugou’s tongue.
Then Deku shoved at Bakugou and sent them sprawling. They centered themselves on the bed and Deku threw the lube at Bakugou while he took on the task of the condom.
Of course, Deku allowed himself to appreciate the sight. A gorgeous, brick house of a man all laid out for him, cock reddened and struggling to bob upright, begging for Deku’s ass.
“You’re pretty for a jock,” Deku said as he expertly unrolled the condom down that magnificent cock.
Bakugou’s face had the audacity to go red. Deku wanted to eat him up.
“And you make a pretty cheerleader. Guess it’s meant to be.”
Deku huffed a laugh, but trailed off from any coherent thought as he watched Bakugou slick up his own dick, hissing at the very touch of his hand.
“I need to get on your dick immediately,” Deku found himself saying as he stared at it in a daze.
Bakugou sat up enough to lean on his elbows. With pale eyebrows lofted high, he smirked and gestured to his cock in a grand sweeping gesture.
“Get on, pretty boy.”
“You’re obnoxious,” Deku said as he clamored to get on top.
“Eh.” Bakugou managed a shrug, then spoke through his clenched teeth as Deku held his cock up and got on his knees to line up. “You’d fuck me anyway.”
Deku would have laughed if he hadn’t been busy easing down on the immediate stretch and encompassing burn. So maybe they should’ve taken more time to open him up, but holy shit, fuck yes , was the hot, blunt slide of surrender beyond blissful.
Eyes shut, head tilted back and mouth agape, short little gasps peppered the room as Deku took his sweet time easing down and pausing and down again, a tortuous ride for them both. And Bakugou was so good , taking it like this, his big, strong body subtly vibrating between Deku’s thighs like a bell rung with no end to the echo.
“Look at me, for fuck’s sake,” Bakugou gritted out when Deku finally, finally hit home and they’d both just sat there like punch drunk idiots, soaking it in.
More untethered and zoned out than he’d expected, Deku struggled to comply. Meeting Bakugou’s furiously bright eyes across the dimly lit space had him smiling dopily. Bakugou’s lips parted as if to speak, but Deku experimentally rolled his hips, his thumbs skating over both Bakugou’s nipples, and Deku’s smile widened as Bakugou’s mouth fell open, soundless and so pretty.
“Sensitive?” Deku barely recognized his voice already, deepened and dark with a lust he hadn’t felt in forever. He bore his weight on his knees and lifted, pulling up and away from Bakugou’s cock. They both groaned with the friction and the loss, eyes locked now, Bakugou’s hands returning to Deku’s hips, one of them seeking out Deku’s dripping dick to slowly fist it, the leftover lube on Bakugou’s palm smoothing the way to bliss.
Wet. The longer and faster Deku moved over the heavenly curve of that thick dick, riding it slow enough to relish each drag until he grew more mindless, less intentioned with each solid slip of ass to thighs, Deku got wetter. The cheerleader uniform soaking up his sweat, the vee of his neck dripping down between his pecs where a bra should be, the scrap of his underwear caught around his damp knee, the creamy leak of his cock over Bakugou’s sticky fingers, the increasingly loud slick of his hole taking it harder.
Deku didn’t know when Bakugou took over, but in a blur of movement, Deku’s waist was in an iron hold as Bakugou used him to fuck into, impaling with sharp, rapid intention, hammering the air from Deku’s lungs as he gasped and failed to breathe through the brutality. Every muscle was overworked, his thighs trembling to stay up, to take it like he’d wanted for so long, his stinging, singing nerves savoring every thrust, Deku’s nails digging into Bakugou’s broad, heaving chest.
Assaulted by oversensitization from all sides, Deku barely had time to react to the sudden return of pressure around his dick, the rising pace of Bakugou’s hand working him to oblivion, that rampant machine of a body invading his own without relent.
He came without warning; no slow rise, all devastating impact. Deku shook with it, deaf to any sound he made, the roar in his ears all white noise, release wracking through him akin to pain as he fell into Bakugou’s waiting arms. Distantly he registered the final harried thrusts into his twitching, sensitive ass before Bakugou’s face buried in the curve of Deku’s shoulder, a long, low groan riding through the both of them.
Were Deku capable of simple brain function, he’d be surprised that Bakugou held him for so long afterward. Later he’d probably have time to marvel at the strange, charming dichotomy of this man who was both an asshole and a post-fuck cuddler.
Eventually, though, they did have to part.
“You’re goddamn hot,” Bakugou mumbled into Deku’s hair. He may have inhaled those curls, but Deku couldn’t be sure. “Your outfit’s gotta be polyester. I’m sweating like a bitch over here.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re sweating,” Deku drawled, his mouth still too lazy to be clever.
He rolled off and winced, instantly feeling disgusting all over. Not from the sex, but the stranger’s bed, the unfamiliar smell of the room, the outfit truly drenched in their mingled sweat, the underwear twisted around his leg, all of it.
“I’m disgusting,” he said, because apparently there was still enough alcohol in his system to keep his tongue loose.
“I think you’re alright.” Bakugou sounded so casual that Deku had to breathe through the sudden, odd emotion that filled his chest. The offhand comment, coming from someone like Bakugou, and so sincerely, felt like more.
Maybe Deku was drunker than he thought.
Deku laid there, silently watching Bakugou stand, his ass apparently carved by a long dead Italian sculptor. The music downstairs filtered through the floor, a low and distant thunder as Bakugou silently collected his clothes from the floor and got dressed. He appeared at ease rather than awkward, being the center of Deku’s attention as he walked around, half-naked in a stranger’s room. Deku wondered if it was social ineptitude, confidence, or a mix of both.
Groaning, Deku sat up, taking care to favor his hip instead of sitting directly on his sore ass. He hadn’t been properly fucked in so long. He’d forgotten how much the aftermath of the real deal require some tenderness and care.
He stood and felt even more nasty in his uniform. It was basically destroyed. He probably stank. Hands on his hips, Deku briefly surveyed the room and made a decision.
Making a beeline for a scuffed set of old drawers, Deku yanked open the first drawer and then the next, rummaging through.
“What’re you doing?” Bakugou asked from across the room. He was holding both his and Deku’s cellphones in each hand. Deku’s must have fallen out of the shallow hip pocket of the skirt.
“Finding something to wear.” Deku didn’t look for Bakugou’s reaction. He held a pair of shorts up to his hips and deemed them sizeable to his frame. He efficiently stripped, peeling out of the costume with extreme relief, the cool air kissing and soothing his skin.
He heard Bakugou’s sharp inhale and ignored it. Who was the socially inept and/or confident one now?
Forgoing underwear because he did have limits on borrowing from strangers, Deku quickly pulled on the saggy basketball shorts, finding them to run long on him like most clothes did. Some unseasonably cheerful yellow shirt printed boldly with a beer brand on the front finished the look.
When Deku turned, he found Bakugou standing exactly where he had been, staring. All zipped up and perfected anew.
With a frown, Deku held out his arms and looked down at himself.
“I broke the mystique, didn’t I? Sorry. This is a lot closer to real life.”
“I wasn’t under the impression you wore skirts every day, freckles.”
“Yeah, well.” Deku shrugged and approached Bakugou, only to veer off and grab his socks and sneakers from the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed to put them on and found himself without words.
Maybe the uniform had given him more confidence than he’d imagined. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t pick up guys. They usually approached him and he didn’t really have to depend on his lack of charm to pull them in. The guys who wanted him were there for one thing, fun and fast, then gone.
Deku felt like tonight had been more. More connection, heat, intention, whatever.
“I put my number in your phone.” Bakugou offered it beneath Deku’s bowed face as he finished tying his shoe. When Deku only frowned and took it, Bakugou said, “You promised I could fuck you in your bed.”
Deku held his breath and looked up. Unconsciously spread his knees as Bakugou seamlessly took up the space between them. Chemistry fired up between them again, instant and volatile, staggering.
“I’m—” Deku licked his lips and watched Bakugou watch him. “I’m not as exciting as I was tonight. It’s Halloween. We get to be different.”
Bakugou cocked his head, his smirk twisting to a frown.
“I’ll decide that. Later.”
“Later,” Deku parroted, unsure how they even got to this point. He’d normally be out the door the second the deed was done.
Bakugou stared at him several seconds longer than appropriate. He didn’t seem to care how uncomfortable he was making Deku, or maybe he enjoyed it. Deku swallowed and offered a small curve of lips.
“So, this was fun,” he said, trying to stick to a narrative he knew.
“Wanna ditch this loserfest and get some food,” Bakugou said instead.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck,” Deku said.
“Come on,” Bakugou said, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to a stand. Their bodies bumped, close and warm. Deku fisted some of the excess material at Bakugou’s waist to steady himself. Bakugou’s grin was a little infectious, boyish and cocky. “This party blows and it turned out better than expected. I’d rather fold while I’m winning.”
“You only came here to get laid,” Deku said, even as he allowed Bakugou to drag him out of the room and into the hall that stank of spilled beer and waxy makeup.
A thrill raced through Deku’s limbs, lighting him up all over again as Bakugou pressed him to the wall with a smile. His nose grazed Deku’s cheek, mouth briefly pressed to the corner of his parted lips.
“Yeah,” he murmured, voice shivering down Deku’s spine. “And now I’m leaving to eat. Both with the same person. See how that works?”
Deku swallowed hard, his hands twitching to unzip Bakugou out of that outfit again. God, he was weak.
“Yeah, I guess,” he rasped out. “Um.” He turned his head and they bumped noses, and Bakugou seemed under a similar spell because he made some dark, heady noise and leaned in, kissing away Deku’s words with gentler, lingering kisses like they’d both realized they’d forgotten to do this before. “Uh,” Deku tried again, breathless. “What do you want to eat?”
“Aside from you?” Bakugou murmured, punctuating with an indulgent, slow suck beneath Deku’s ear.
“Jeezus. Uhh, yes.” Deku slung an arm around Bakugou’s neck and sighed, tilting his head to allow further exploration of his throat.
“Got food at your place?”
Deku stilled even as his heart leapt. Why was this even an excited line of discussion? Who had he become? Was the magic of Halloween still fucking with his decision making skills? He wasn’t even in the outfit anymore. Like, midnight had struck, the Cinderella dress had melted off, and the weirdly aggressive prince was still totally into him.
“Yes. . .” Deku said carefully. “Why? You want to come over?”
“If you want,” Bakugou said in Deku’s ear, scattering sparks everywhere. “I mean, unless you have to stay at home and sit on a bag of frozen peas.”
Deku jerked back hard enough to knock his head against the wall, beaming with surprise.
“Did you just quote Jennifer’s Body at me?”
“You tell me,” Bakugou said, but he was matching Deku’s grin like an idiot.
“You know,” Deku said, sliding his hands up Bakugou’s chest only to slowly pull the zip down. “I’m suddenly starving. I don’t even think we can make it back to mine.”
This time it was Bakugou who gaped as Deku began to drag him into the hall bathroom.
“In the bathroom?” he said incredulously as Deku locked the door behind them.
Deku turned and grinned.
“Trust me. I’m great at this.”
Deku may have started the night as a loser, but Bakugou was right. This Halloween, he’d definitely won.