BNHA, The Lazy Way

Title: The Lazy Way [Bakugou/Kirishima]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Kirishima’s routine of going on a morning run meets the immovable object of Bakugou once the weather turns cold.
AN: Written for Shiritori.

The Lazy Way

Kirishima preferred to start his mornings early, to get his run out of the way as soon as there was enough light to make the probability of getting hit by a car low. He usually tossed on sneakers and sweats, the first things he could grab, and didn’t bother to shower or eat anything before he went, just downed a couple glasses of water so he wouldn’t get dehydrated and went for it. Once they moved in together, Kirishima started dragging Bakugou out with him any morning that he could, which was most mornings, happy to leave his earbuds behind so he could listen to Bakugou crab about work and his university courses and how they nearly got run over almost every morning when they made the blind turn onto the bridge. Only Bakugou could run a six-minute mile and still have enough air left over to bitch about it the entire way.

“Would it kill them to put up a fucking stop sign?!” Bakugou demanded, flashing his middle finger at the smart car zipping past them; Kirishima struggled to keep running at the same time as he was cracking up over the image of a smart car hitting the pair of them and just bouncing off. He collapsed against the railing wheezing when Bakugou added, “LEARN TO DRIVE, HIPPIE SCUM!”

But that had been summer, Bakugou at the peak of his energy. Now with autumn rolling into winter and the first of the really cold mornings, Kirishima was starting to realize the flaw in his plans. Peeling off the blankets made him grunt in displeasure, and he winced putting his feet on the cold hardwood. The corners of their bedroom window panes were streaked with frost.

“Come on, babe,” he urged, shaking Bakugou’s shoulder roughly. “You skipped yesterday.”

“Fuckin’ forget it,” Bakugou muttered. He cracked one eye open just enough to glare. “S’cold.”

“Katsukiiiii,” Kirishima sighed, grabbing Bakugou’s elbow through the comforter and pulling, hard, but Bakugou went exactly nowhere. He only nestled tighter in the blankets, which he’d stolen all of as soon as Kirishima shifted that morning, and glared harder, only his nose and red eyes and a wild poof of explosion hair sticking out from the hood he’d made of the blankets. Kirishima laughed. “I forgot what a hard start you are in the winter. Man, you were such a bitch about it when we lived in the dorms!”

“It’s my quirk, fuckass.” Bakugou nestled in harder. “Get the fuck out if you want, m’goin’ back to sleep.”

“But…” Kirishima hesitated, which later would be known as mistake number one, but seriously it was cold, and he’d forgotten to charge his headphones from yesterday so it’d be too quiet if Bakugou didn’t come along, and Bakugou looked so cute and sleepy and warm and, “Ugh, fuck it, lemme in.”

“What?! AGH,” Bakugou squirmed and kicked as Kirishima flopped down and yanked half the covers over him, nestling up against the heat Bakugou had trapped under there. “Your feet are FREEZING, get OFF you shitty tree-faced—”

“Waaarm,” Kirishima sighed happily, pinning Bakugou down flat on his back and nuzzling just under his jaw where Bakugou was the weakest. He pressed his teeth in gently, just enough for Bakugou to feel it, and Bakugou went entirely limp underneath him all at once, like Kirishima had thrown a switch. Kirishima’s hands snuck up to find Bakugou’s, twining their fingers and pushing Bakugou’s hands flat against the mattress. They were both a little hard, normal any morning, and the softness of Bakugou’s worn sweatpants felt nice when Kirishima rolled his hips. “Hey. Wanna work out here this morning?”

“No, you giant dick,” Bakugou snapped, making Kirishima blink in surprise. “The lazy way or get the fuck off me.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, yeah,” Kirishima tripped over his words agreeing. The lazy way was Kirishima spooned up against Bakugou’s back, dragging open-mouthed kisses over Bakugou’s shoulders and the top of his spine while he jerked Bakugou off in slow, even strokes, his other hand teasing at his nipples or balls or the tops of his thighs or the ridged planes of his abs. Sometimes Bakugou twisted his head back for messy kissing, and sometimes Kirishima hid his face in Bakguou’s neck and refused because the lazy way meant Bakugou made more noise than usual, low grunts and sighs and growls of Kirishima’s given name that made his own dick twitch against the small Bakugou’s back. If Kirishima did it exactly right, and didn’t accidentally rub himself off against Bakugou in the course of it, Bakugou would shove him onto his back and blow him after, swallowing Kirishima down to the base and watching every second of Kirishima falling to pieces with eyes sharp and bright like stars. The watching got Kirishima just as much as Bakugou’s mouth, sometimes. Maybe all the time.

The lazy way was slow as hell and turned both of them into limp, sweat-soaked morons who were useless for anything but clinging and napping; it was usually reserved for a day both of them had entirely free, which was basically never, or else sometimes the deadass middle of the night when one or both of them had a nightmare or insomnia. The lazy way on a regular weekday morning when Kirishima had morning meeting and Bakugou was supposed to be TA-ing a 10am class was the stupidest possible choice.

“Fuck, you feel so warm and soft and good,” Kirishima muttered, mouthing at the shell of Bakguou’s ear. He was dragging hands all over Bakugou’s chest and hips and thighs but not really touching him yet, drawing it out. Spooning during sex did things to him, the heat of anticipation twisting up with the comfort of cuddling, the perpetual wonder that prickly class rank #1 Bakugou Katsuki would let anyone touch him like this, much less Kirishima, clenching low and tight in Kirishima’s stomach.

“What the fuck,” Bakugou grumbled, his squirming at the moment more like a calculated undulation, trying to urge Kirishima’s hand down to his cock. “You’d know I wasn’t soft if you just touched my dick, shitty boyfriend!” Kirishima snuffled laughter against Bakugou’s hair. Bakugou grabbed his wrist and forced it down, grunting in satisfaction when Kirishima wrapped fingers around him and squeezed.

“I feel good too, right?” Kirishima prodded, nibbling encouragement along the top of Bakugou’s shoulder. When Bakugou didn’t answer, Kirishima stilled his hand. “Dooo I?”

“Yeah, geez, I like you or whatever,” Bakugou grumbled, hips pushing up into Kirishima’s grip until Kirishima got back to work. “You already know that, stupid.”

“You know I like hearing it.” Kirishima licked at the tiny red marks he was leaving in Bakgou’s fair skin. The last of his summer tan was fading, and Kirishima was looking forward to how good his marks would look on Bakugou once he was winter pale. “You like it too, hearing how hot you are, and I’m doing all the work, aren’t I?”

“No one’s forcing you,” Bakugou grumbled. “Shit, don’t stop, fine, you’re super manly and great, oh baby yeah just like that Eiji you’re so good.”

“Asshole!” Kirishima said, cracking up at Bakugou’s over-the-top porn dialogue. Bakugou laughed too, in spite of himself, and they slumped more comfortably into each other after. Kirishima picked up his rhythm where he’d left off, slow and steady, thumbing the velvet of Bakguou’s dick, hot against his palm. “Say something real or shut up.”

Bakugou was quiet aside from rough breathing for a couple minutes, and Kirishima assumed that was his answer for the moment. So he was surprised when Bakugou muttered, low but clear, “I haven’t woken up from a nightmare in like two weeks.”

“Yeah?” Kirishima very carefully kept on doing exactly what he’d been doing, the motion of his hand and mouth on Bakugou’s skin steady.

“Yeah. Since the last time you were gone on an overnight.” Bakugou let a heavy breath out through his nose. “And even that was some shitty anxiety thing about my paper. I haven’t had a real one in…so you being all touchy when I’m trying to sleep, it’s fine. Fair trade or whatever.”

“Katsuki—”

“Shut up,” Bakugou cut him off. His hand wrapped around Kirishima’s, forcing him to jerk Bakugou off faster, tighter, ending the conversation. Kirishima hugged him tighter, knee between Bakugou’s thighs and his own dick nestled against Bakugou’s ass, pushing Bakugou towards his limit until he snapped and spilled over their hands with a long groan.

Bakugou twisted in his arms unexpectedly, turning the spoon into a proper hug, their grips on each other sweat-slick and tacky where Bakugou was rubbing come into Kirishima’s thigh.

“Gimme a sec,” Bakugou muttered, his hands sliding down to cup Kirishima’s ass, urging him to rock against Bakugou’s stomach. “I’ll—”

“Stay there,” Kirishima said, because blowjobs were great, and he’d definitely claim he was owed one later, but for now kissing seemed more important, keeping Bakugou right where he was with his arms around Bakugou’s back and one hand buried deep in Bakugou’s hair, tugging until Bakugou groaned against him. Bakugou shoved a hand between them to jerk Kirishima off and Kirishima sighed all sorts of sweet, embarrassing things while Bakugou brought him off.

“Mmmmm,” Kirishima said, slumping against Bakugou, heart still racing. Bakugou thumbed his tip, making Kirishima shudder. He felt so good and comfortable, which meant as soon as he opened his eyes he was going to see a horrific time on the clock. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Worth it if it saves me from running outside,” Bakugou said. He shivered like even just thinking about it was too much. “Fuck winter.”

They were late, or at least Kirishima was; it was possible Bakugou had made it on time because sometimes he could bend time into slowing down when he was in a rush as opposed to Kirishima who always lost ten minutes just by sitting down to tie his boots. Kirishima on the other hand had to slink into morning meeting after everyone else had sat down and Fatgum had boomed a mortifying, “Had a rough morning, Kiri-kun?”

Bakugou had a good laugh at Kirishima’s expense while he was making dinner that night, Kirishima leaning against the kitchen counter and pouting until Bakugou let him taste a spoonful of curry.

“You deserved it,” Bakugou informed him, bopping his nose with the back of the spoon, leaving a smudge of curry. “You started it.”

“You did! You totally did!” Kirishima protested, hugging Bakugou from behind to protect his face from more spoon attacks. His arms curled comfortably around Bakugou’s waist, Bakugou only warning him mildly not to be a distraction if he didn’t want his dinner burned to shit.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday Kirishima got one foot on the floor before Bakugou yanked him back under the covers, and Thursday Kirishima blinked open his eyes blearily to find Bakugou looming over him with a blanket-staticky hair halo and the sharpest grin.

“Oh no,” Kirishima whispered, realizing they had weeks of winter ahead, weeks, and getting anywhere on time was going to be a struggle. Fatgum was going to make fun of him every single morning.

“Oh yes,” Bakugou answered, flopping down an immovable tangle of limbs and blankets on Kirishima’s chest, and Kirishima despaired of ever managing a morning run again, if he had to choose between that and Bakugou chuckling with malice against his throat and fingers already digging into the ticklish spots against Kirishima’s ribs.

Maybe they could just hibernate until spring.