Title: No Sexpiration Date [Kirishima/Bakugou]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Bakugou’s not about to let being long-distance wreck his weekend plans in Kirishima’s bed.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Kira told me she couldn’t write until Friday anyway while I was jacking up my turn incredibly bad, and then I even forgot about that. Oh well here’s the beginning of some Kirishima/Bakugou.
No Sexpiration Date
“Poker Face is a really shitty hero name,” Bakugou commented over the hero news playing on Kirishima’s laptop. He’d surprised Kirishima with a huge amount of takeout from the really good okonomiyaki place a block from Kirishima’s apartment, and now the two of them were slumped against the wall on Kirishima’s futon, shoveling okonomiyaki and karaage into their faces.
Moving to Osaka to go full-time sidekick for Fat Gum had a lot of awesome things about it, but two things in particular sucked: his shitty apartment was so small he could practically open the front door from his shower, and his boyfriend still lived in Tokyo. The only saving grace was that Bakugou was finding it so challenging to live at home after 2.5 years of dorm life that he spent every other weekend visiting, not giving a single shit about the length or cost of the train ride apparently.
“You’re one to talk,” Kirishima teased, poking Bakugou’s cheek with his chopsticks. “King of Explodo Kills.”
“Fuck off, none of you fucking plebs understands my pun genius,” Bakugou retorted, shouldering Kirishima back. He tried to say something else, but yawned hugely instead. “Ugh, how the hell can I be so tired after sleeping for three hours on a train?”
“Because you did an eight-hour patrol shift first?” Kirishima pointed out, muffling his own yawn. Bakugou had been infamous at school for having the earliest bedtime and being able to fall asleep anywhere, thanks to the metabolic demands of his quirk. “I’m beat, too. Wanna go to bed after the news?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bakugou said. “I came out here to see you, not waste half the time unconscious.”
“Uh-huh,” Kirishima said mildly, generously not pointing out the way that Bakugou was already slumped against his side heavily, or the heaviness of his eyelids.
The news ended and Kirishima struggled to his feet to put their leftovers in the fridge, shutting the laptop’s lid on the way. He washed off their plates, and fully expected even that five minute’ worth of absence meant he’d find Bakugou face-down in his pillow. That was exactly how he found Bakugou when he returned. Chuckling, Kirishima flipped off the overhead light and stripped off his hoodie before tugging the blankets free from Bakugou’s grip so that he could slid into the futon beside him.
Kirishima was a little surprised when Bakugou rolled over immediately, sliding one hand into the back of Kirishima’s hair to pull him into a rough kiss. It was aggressive, making Kirishima hum happily as Bakugou worked a knee between Kirishima’s thighs, Bakugou’s free hand sliding under the waistband of Kirishima’s sweatpants to grip his hip.
As hot as Bakugou’s possessive “we haven’t fucked in two weeks” affection was, Kirishima cupped his palms around Bakugou’s face and pushed him back just enough to talk. His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the dark yet, but Bakugou’s scowl was easy to see anyway.
“We can sleep first if you want?” he offered.
“Why the hell would I want that?” Bakugou demanded, pushing forward against Kirishima’s grip. Kirishima had no trouble holding him in place; all those hours at the gym were paying off.
“Because you might enjoy it more if you weren’t passing out in my hands?” Kirishima pointed out. “Come on, dude, it’ll keep. Even awesome heroes need rest.”
“Heroes don’t need rest,” Bakugou hissed. “What they need is hard boning by their rock hard distance boyfriend!”
“Oh my god, you idiot,” kirishima burst out laughing. While he was distracted, Bakugou rolled them over until he was on the bottom, Kirishima’s weight pressing him down into the futon. It didn’t have nearly the soft give of their UA dorm mattresses, all their sharp angles pressed too hard into each other’s. “I’m too heavy for this on a futon.”
“You think I can’t take it?” Bakugou growled, hands already up under Kirishima’s tank top, dragging along the edges of his back muscles. “Man up, Eijirou. I want everything you got.”
