[ the bite, unfortunately, just made his smile a bit wider. still spicy, even when injured. and, no, denji will always finish every single edible portion within sight; whether it's bones or fruit peels, they're still nutritious. this might be a habit that would be difficult, if not impossible, to break away from— unless katsuki has the energy to prepare a second meal of the leftovers or maybe promise denji he will reserve them later for another dish. compromise. it might bring an unattractive visual to the other fellow everlight sharing their space, to open the fridge and see a small container full of chewed bones, shells, and other undesired bits of a meal. maybe at times, one of their teammates thought they were doing the base a favor by tossing them, and hence denji's utter heartbreak of good food going to waste. yeah, it would be a lot easier for bakugou to let this guy munch away and not stress himself over the aftercare.
and the part about dying. when/if denji finds out about that, he'd be more focused on bakugou. considering he experienced dying in every gruesome method possible- it's safe to say he knew how utterly traumatizing it is. the pain, the fear, the slow descent into darkness, and the unknown of what will happen next. For devils, it might be child's play, but for someone who is human, flesh and soul, bakugou surely wouldn't brush it off as another monday. then again, he had a feeling bakugou isn't the type to get too personal about certain matters, often choosing to deal with it on his own, it's less of the hero faking a brave face and more of a genuine dismissal of matters he cannot control. it happened. why dwell on it? he's alive. move on. well, denji hopes that's not the case. while he didn't know the remedy to heal such anxieties, he's certain dismissing them is not an option either. since he's the one in charge, leading the recovery mission, he decided to give the hero a week or so to calm down before cornering him. yeah, be ready for that one, babe.
as for marking his lover, it was an honest error from his end, one he should have apologized for but didn't. after all, denji was attentive to the other, mindful of every shift or ease in bakugou's features, searching for any inkling of discomfort with every move. if those small hickeys didn't hurt him, then it's fine. he's not about to treat his boyfriend as frail. even when mild frustrations slip in, watching the way his head dropped back against the pillow, blinking slowly with his head tipped to the side. what's up with that? no idea. ]
Okay. I'll change 'em. [ he knew he had a first aid medical kit somewhere in his cluttered room, something he decided to include a few months after they started getting cozy with each other, adopting a joint night routine that involved— well, some patching up. both their jobs are not easy; between fighting kaiju and criminals alike, bakugou would need a little attention after an exhausting shift. ah, he's thinking about whether he had enough bandages to attend to all those wounds. when was the last time he checked if it required some restock? he's thinking about it, seemingly distracted, before denji pulled away; his hands pressed against the mattress on bakugou's sides, muscles tensing as he gradually pushed himself up. the fabric of the blanket over him was clinging to him for a fleeting moment before it relented, sliding down the curve of his back in a lazy descent.
just when denji gives the impression of leaving the bed to fetch the medical supplies, he ends up fiddling with bakugou's pants instead. he hooks his fingers on the hem, securing his waistline before tugging down. he then gestures for the other boy to arch his back a bit, allowing him to decide how far he can comply and lift his hips without triggering any ache. on any other day, denji would manhandle him, but that's off-limits until full recovery. he doesn't plan to strip him off completely, too much effort, just enough skin for denji to bend over, curl his fingers around his lover's cock, and - well, continue his string of soft, light kisses along his length, up to the tip; breath warm, cheeks flustered. ]
[while he's fully able and ready to make side dishes out of fish guts and broccoli stalks, refuse like banana peels, peanut shells, bones too oft boiled for a stock, and so forth are going into compost for the greenhouse. it's called recycling. there's a difference between leftovers and "trash" when you're not living in the alleys. bakugou'll raze people to the ground for throwing away leftovers, one for wasting the food, and two for being picky morons who avoided it until the food went bad! denji probably got away with his containers of scraps for a while, but bakugou was likely one of the outsiders who found what to him was a container of trash and recycled it. if they got into an argument about it later, so be it. you're not some alley cat chewing on a fishbone! and if he had to show why those items weren't going to waste, he'll take denji to the greenhouse for a full tour plus lesson in compost.
what's up with that? mostly because he's got a damn boner now and denji's talking about changing his bandages. dismissing his death is his proud flippant way of focusing on something more important: his life. very much an "i survived, bitches" person rather than lying in bed at night reflecting on a trauma he can't even remember. pain, drive, impact, darkness... and suddenly he was standing up again, knowing he had to move. he doesn't "remember" his own death. who the fuck does? so why dwell on it. when he can dwell instead on trying not to think about denji's lips on his skin, memories of his hands sliding between his legs, a warm breath on his nape, a strong chest pressing to his back, hips slotting with his own, a now-familiar girth and length filling him- FUCKING HELL!
so much for making it go away. flopping on the bed, he cussed under his breath and glares death at the ceiling. ceiling, now that denji's head's not in the way. frustration boils under his skin. he'd rather be looking at denji's pretty face than the stupid lines and gleams of his bedroom roof. these bastards couldn't pull him back just a few minutes later when the doctors were done redoing his dressings, so he could focus on his boyfriend rather than getting these damn scraps taken off again? ... why's denji not getting off the bed? so ready to glare at him as he putzes around the room, bakugou completely misses the part where those strong legs never left the bed itself. he tugs his head up from the pillow, eyes finding his boyfriend perched on his knees between his legs instead. fuck, he did that arched spine temptation where the sheet flows down his back to pool erotic around his waist on purpose!
fingers grip at his pants and bakugou growls in relief, surprise, and vexation. he curls his fingers in the bedding beside him, teeth gritting and muscles pulling taut as his boyfriend curls into his pants' rim and tugs down. abdominal definitions crunch on his core as he lifts his hips, using his heels and calves to arch his thighs and waist so denji can work his pants down. fuck, he'll take this if the half-devil's going for a compromise. his lower body's not in any rough shape. maybe some bruises from tumbling around, but those are mostly faded. until he's got his pants worked down to that uncomfortable level of his thighs. guh, he hates that feeling... which is completely lost once denji's warm breath ghosts over his tip and fingers wrap around his aching arousal. a half-choked groan of his lover's name wrangles from his throat, good arm lifting to run his fingers down his own face. fuck. even small kisses like that are intense thanks to the time passed between then and now. knees bend outward, spreading his legs as much as he can with his pants trapping his upper thighs. denji's gonna steal his breath like this.]
[ ha. if only he knew his beloved bakugou would get in the mood after such an intense reunion, then again— denji shouldn't be judging anyone since he's the one who instigated it. why did he think it was appropriate to start fondling his boyfriend's dick after everything that happened this early morning. it is questionable, indeed, on both their ends, but who is he to judge what they chose to embrace as a method of de-stress? denji is anything but okay; a lot is going on in his head, and he is still a bit stunned after spending hours wreaking havoc across the base. the dread he went through was unbearable. he couldn't find any word, touch, or thought that could even begin to reassure him that he could get over this utter heartbreak- he couldn't imagine the thought of moving on, living, finding joy and motivation to go on. it was a dark, helpless hell, and it would be foolish to pretend with a snap of his fingers he was all okay. he's not. bakugou is still injured. he's hurt. their routine will change. he'd end up watching the person he loves struggle with everyday tasks, and they would have to prepare themselves if his arm would never recover. it's a lot to take in; he understands, he's ready, and he will fight by his side no matter what.
... so why now? why couldn't he leave bakugou to rest? why didn't he get up to change the old, bloodied bandages that were fated to stain the sheets? why? hmm, because it's been a while, hasn't it? to katsuki. he never thought to ask if he had a love interest back home, someone to keep his bed warm and dick wet even if they were indulged in an active war. ok, he doubts the hero had the time to exchange kisses and spit while trying to survive. another thought that perked denji's interest was the disappearance of the scar he left on bakugou during the vegas mission, almost as if he had never been in this city before. while lilith can restore their memories, they can't do much about the physical aspect of their travels. he wonders if - hey, maybe it's a silly thought- he wonders if bakugou is a virgin again. somehow? he did say his time with denji was his first, didn't he? was it a wild idea? maybe. but intriguing, regardless.
it might explain why the half-devil didn't bother to wait for a full recovery and was adamant about leaving his mark on the other boy immediately. well, while being mindful of his injuries, of course. which explains why denji is more patient, allowing the other to shift into a more comfortable position against the bed while slowly working his fingers and seeking some friction, kissing, and nuzzling into his arousal. soon after, bakugou would feel the pressure from his lips and his tongue, followed by the cool, slick spit sliding down his shaft. fuck, he's eager already, breath hot and heavy. denji knew he was getting a little too excited himself, yet he didn't plan to pay much attention to it. he hums and pulls up so he can play with the head, suckling on it and swirling his tongue over it, all the while, his hand pressed along bakugou's cock, jerking him off — not too fast, but certainly adopting a steady rhythm, fingers messy.
back to kissing, turning his head to brush his lips against his inner thigh, shifting a bit so he could help keep bakugou's knees propped up; leaving behind more love bites over the bare, clear skin. his lashes lower, cheeks burning - fuck, that boy's skin is too damn soft, if only he could sink his teeth a little harder as he'd always do. ugh. denji then tilts his head to the other side and slows his hand down so he can secure his wet lips over the tip, the faintest brush of sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh, a sensation that could make anyone a bit uncomfortable. and then, with ease, denji takes in the hero's cock inside his hot mouth, going lower, and lower ... without a hint of a gag reflex on sight. ]
[he'll immediately blame denji for instigating the damn thing! and yet, here he is, doing fuck all about pushing him away or wriggling free of his grip. katsuki's more than capable of stopping it. his mind races in two parts: one logical (quieter) side yelling about how stupid this is, how he'll elevate his heart rate, how there's only one accidental twitch or touch away of hurting his damaged parts, and one erotic (much louder) side snarling at his other brain to shut the fuck up because denji's below his damn waist, it feels amazing, and he hasn't seen his fucking boyfriend for weeks! devils are physical creatures and denji's always been more easily assured and comforted with touches than words. if taking a flight risk is the cost of giving the man he loves some reassurance, then dammit, he's going to do so! that's also not taking into account katsuki's still a teenager and he's got a fucking libido more than eagerly reacting to his handsome mate threatening to go down on him here and now. fondling the entire time. fuck...
ask him if he's a virgin and he'll promptly punt him right in his stupid face. the answer is yes if we don't accept the idea a bunch of handsome teen boys living in close proximity with each other would end up messing around with each other, and yes since his body technically reset to canon level, and no if you wanna say he has all the memories of emotional and physical reactions to denji taking his virginity (and vice versa) once more held in glowing red and gold light inside his head.
fuck, he wriggles on the bed slightly, trying to keep his motions limited to hips and lower, his good arms, and his head. wanting denji to stop fucking around and pull his damn pants off completely so he's not stuck with his legs trapped in the hem, knees twitching each time he tries to instinctively spread his legs around his boyfriend's strong chest and narrow hips. each kissing run along the side, hot breath ghosting over his shaft, fingers playing along the seam of his sac, cheek nuzzling into the now-leaking tip of his cock leaving a wet smear on denji's skin. all but tossing his head to the side with a snarling cuss when saliva drips and oozes cool slick hot onto his glans and runs down his shaft soon enough. fuck, he's salivating all over his dick and katsuki wants to grab his head and shove it right down onto himself. resisting, instead fisting the sheets and groaning as his boyfriend eases his head up to the tip once more and torments him with playful suckling and circling tongue, simultaneously fluting his fingertips up and down his now-glistening length. he's being so damn slow with it too-!!
bakugo whips his head to the front, snarling breathlessly down the length of his damaged chest when denji kisses the inside of his thigh. he can only get his knees partially up before the dynaband of his sweats' hem catches on the half-devil's chest, pinning his ripcord to his sternum and holding the hero's legs down at a certain level. the guy's basically lying between his thighs as it is and only bothered those pants down to middle thigh. bastard, lounging down there with his lashes long and his cheeks covered in rouge and his tawny eyes almost glowing behind that shaggy covering of sandy hair... he missed him. he missed him so damn much. only now remembering it clearly. until denji sets his mouth on katsuki's tip and closes his lips around it. soft and warm suddenly giving way to sharp white points that would make most people recoil and shout, but has the other boy panting in pleasure, finally ripping his hand from the sheets and fisting into his boyfriend's hair instead, head falling back on the pillow and legs struggling against their confines as precum lances onto denji's tongue. yeah, so apparently he's still got that kink for denji's teeth. fuck off. good to know his lover hasn't regained his gag reflex in the past few hours.]
[ bakugou got a few points right, and while it does seem denji is on the giving side of this erotic service, he was doing it mainly for reassurance to himself, and if he dares to admit - please himself, too. his boyfriend's compliance is exactly what he wants if the endgame here is both of them finding comfort after such a dilemma, and since they do have a habit of being extra mindful of when they can share/open up ... physical affirmation is their love language. they would rather rely on touch over whispers, and maybe that's okay. maybe that's how they function, whether it's the right thing or not. if bakugou chose not to talk about the war, then he will fucking suck his dick then. does this escalation make any sense? it does to denji. of course, the half-devil wouldn't proceed if it wasn't mutual. if bakugou chose to stop it, he would stop. no questions asked and no protests. if he picked up on any hint of distress, a little groan that sounded less sensual and more out of pain, he would stop as well. his partner comes first, always and forever.
riding high on instinct and impulse, working his wet mouth as he slid his stretched lips along his lover's dick in shallower, short thrusts, making sure that sensitive tip gets a proper feel of the warmth of the back of his throat; again, not a single cough and gag, just pure bliss. eyes closed, denji took him in deeper, moving his hand in sync with his head, humming appreciatively while his tongue painted hot swirls around the hero's arousal. as for his teeth? yeah, he will always be careful with those fuckers, but it didn't mean bakugou wouldn't feel them. the occasional, light touch along his length; a fleeting sting just before retreat. and at some point, as denji paused very briefly to swallow the mess pooling inside his mouth, the pressure lingered for just a second longer, letting the points rest against flesh, feeling the pulse and throb beneath. there was no teasing, talking, or goofing around this time— it was intense, way too eager for a tease, and denji didn't want to even entertain another pause after the first one. he kept sucking, licking, and stroking his lover with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the fact he's actively ignoring bakugou's silent demand to free his legs is something. no, he didn't plan to assist him with that, favoring restricting that boy this time. for his safety, at first, and for denji's pleasure, second. speaking of pleasure - it's getting a bit too intense. for himself.
while it was merely a few hours in the half-devil's timeline, as bakugou hasn't been out of the picture for too long, he also missed him. he can't explain the fucking logic behind it, but everything about this felt like they'd been weeks apart for some reason. so it's to no one surprise he was painfully hard already, and if it was any other day, he'd probably go for more. fuck. taking him in deeper, denji muffled a groan against his full mouth, hollowing his cheeks a bit. he caught his breath, not missing a beat as his fingers took over, leaning back with reddened lips as he popped them off bakugou's cock, wet and slick, smeared with the leaking pre-cum all over. a short retreat, they caught each other's gaze for a second, denji even smiled - he dares to do with those lips and teeth bared. yeah, he missed this handsome face.
the sounds he's making now, both unintentional thanks to the drool and the ones full of aroused need forming in the back of his throat, are obscene. the room is too quiet to mask them, but nothing about their act is modest, to begin with, or moral. whenever he feels bakugou attempt to shift or squirm under him, denji is careful to keep him in place, mindful of his injuries even when improper thoughts are getting too loud in his head. "he can take it." ... "he's a hero and trained to handle any amount of pain." ... "maybe if you ask nicely, bakugou would agree!"
yeah, the recovery journey will be interesting ... ]
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and the part about dying. when/if denji finds out about that, he'd be more focused on bakugou. considering he experienced dying in every gruesome method possible- it's safe to say he knew how utterly traumatizing it is. the pain, the fear, the slow descent into darkness, and the unknown of what will happen next. For devils, it might be child's play, but for someone who is human, flesh and soul, bakugou surely wouldn't brush it off as another monday. then again, he had a feeling bakugou isn't the type to get too personal about certain matters, often choosing to deal with it on his own, it's less of the hero faking a brave face and more of a genuine dismissal of matters he cannot control. it happened. why dwell on it? he's alive. move on. well, denji hopes that's not the case. while he didn't know the remedy to heal such anxieties, he's certain dismissing them is not an option either. since he's the one in charge, leading the recovery mission, he decided to give the hero a week or so to calm down before cornering him. yeah, be ready for that one, babe.
as for marking his lover, it was an honest error from his end, one he should have apologized for but didn't. after all, denji was attentive to the other, mindful of every shift or ease in bakugou's features, searching for any inkling of discomfort with every move. if those small hickeys didn't hurt him, then it's fine. he's not about to treat his boyfriend as frail. even when mild frustrations slip in, watching the way his head dropped back against the pillow, blinking slowly with his head tipped to the side. what's up with that? no idea. ]
Okay. I'll change 'em. [ he knew he had a first aid medical kit somewhere in his cluttered room, something he decided to include a few months after they started getting cozy with each other, adopting a joint night routine that involved— well, some patching up. both their jobs are not easy; between fighting kaiju and criminals alike, bakugou would need a little attention after an exhausting shift. ah, he's thinking about whether he had enough bandages to attend to all those wounds. when was the last time he checked if it required some restock? he's thinking about it, seemingly distracted, before denji pulled away; his hands pressed against the mattress on bakugou's sides, muscles tensing as he gradually pushed himself up. the fabric of the blanket over him was clinging to him for a fleeting moment before it relented, sliding down the curve of his back in a lazy descent.
just when denji gives the impression of leaving the bed to fetch the medical supplies, he ends up fiddling with bakugou's pants instead. he hooks his fingers on the hem, securing his waistline before tugging down. he then gestures for the other boy to arch his back a bit, allowing him to decide how far he can comply and lift his hips without triggering any ache. on any other day, denji would manhandle him, but that's off-limits until full recovery. he doesn't plan to strip him off completely, too much effort, just enough skin for denji to bend over, curl his fingers around his lover's cock, and - well, continue his string of soft, light kisses along his length, up to the tip; breath warm, cheeks flustered. ]
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what's up with that? mostly because he's got a damn boner now and denji's talking about changing his bandages. dismissing his death is his proud flippant way of focusing on something more important: his life. very much an "i survived, bitches" person rather than lying in bed at night reflecting on a trauma he can't even remember. pain, drive, impact, darkness... and suddenly he was standing up again, knowing he had to move. he doesn't "remember" his own death. who the fuck does? so why dwell on it. when he can dwell instead on trying not to think about denji's lips on his skin, memories of his hands sliding between his legs, a warm breath on his nape, a strong chest pressing to his back, hips slotting with his own, a now-familiar girth and length filling him- FUCKING HELL!
so much for making it go away. flopping on the bed, he cussed under his breath and glares death at the ceiling. ceiling, now that denji's head's not in the way. frustration boils under his skin. he'd rather be looking at denji's pretty face than the stupid lines and gleams of his bedroom roof. these bastards couldn't pull him back just a few minutes later when the doctors were done redoing his dressings, so he could focus on his boyfriend rather than getting these damn scraps taken off again? ... why's denji not getting off the bed? so ready to glare at him as he putzes around the room, bakugou completely misses the part where those strong legs never left the bed itself. he tugs his head up from the pillow, eyes finding his boyfriend perched on his knees between his legs instead. fuck, he did that arched spine temptation where the sheet flows down his back to pool erotic around his waist on purpose!
fingers grip at his pants and bakugou growls in relief, surprise, and vexation. he curls his fingers in the bedding beside him, teeth gritting and muscles pulling taut as his boyfriend curls into his pants' rim and tugs down. abdominal definitions crunch on his core as he lifts his hips, using his heels and calves to arch his thighs and waist so denji can work his pants down. fuck, he'll take this if the half-devil's going for a compromise. his lower body's not in any rough shape. maybe some bruises from tumbling around, but those are mostly faded. until he's got his pants worked down to that uncomfortable level of his thighs. guh, he hates that feeling... which is completely lost once denji's warm breath ghosts over his tip and fingers wrap around his aching arousal. a half-choked groan of his lover's name wrangles from his throat, good arm lifting to run his fingers down his own face. fuck. even small kisses like that are intense thanks to the time passed between then and now. knees bend outward, spreading his legs as much as he can with his pants trapping his upper thighs. denji's gonna steal his breath like this.]
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... so why now? why couldn't he leave bakugou to rest? why didn't he get up to change the old, bloodied bandages that were fated to stain the sheets? why? hmm, because it's been a while, hasn't it? to katsuki. he never thought to ask if he had a love interest back home, someone to keep his bed warm and dick wet even if they were indulged in an active war. ok, he doubts the hero had the time to exchange kisses and spit while trying to survive. another thought that perked denji's interest was the disappearance of the scar he left on bakugou during the vegas mission, almost as if he had never been in this city before. while lilith can restore their memories, they can't do much about the physical aspect of their travels. he wonders if - hey, maybe it's a silly thought- he wonders if bakugou is a virgin again. somehow? he did say his time with denji was his first, didn't he? was it a wild idea? maybe. but intriguing, regardless.
it might explain why the half-devil didn't bother to wait for a full recovery and was adamant about leaving his mark on the other boy immediately. well, while being mindful of his injuries, of course. which explains why denji is more patient, allowing the other to shift into a more comfortable position against the bed while slowly working his fingers and seeking some friction, kissing, and nuzzling into his arousal. soon after, bakugou would feel the pressure from his lips and his tongue, followed by the cool, slick spit sliding down his shaft. fuck, he's eager already, breath hot and heavy. denji knew he was getting a little too excited himself, yet he didn't plan to pay much attention to it. he hums and pulls up so he can play with the head, suckling on it and swirling his tongue over it, all the while, his hand pressed along bakugou's cock, jerking him off — not too fast, but certainly adopting a steady rhythm, fingers messy.
back to kissing, turning his head to brush his lips against his inner thigh, shifting a bit so he could help keep bakugou's knees propped up; leaving behind more love bites over the bare, clear skin. his lashes lower, cheeks burning - fuck, that boy's skin is too damn soft, if only he could sink his teeth a little harder as he'd always do. ugh. denji then tilts his head to the other side and slows his hand down so he can secure his wet lips over the tip, the faintest brush of sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh, a sensation that could make anyone a bit uncomfortable. and then, with ease, denji takes in the hero's cock inside his hot mouth, going lower, and lower ... without a hint of a gag reflex on sight. ]
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ask him if he's a virgin and he'll promptly punt him right in his stupid face. the answer is yes if we don't accept the idea a bunch of handsome teen boys living in close proximity with each other would end up messing around with each other, and yes since his body technically reset to canon level, and no if you wanna say he has all the memories of emotional and physical reactions to denji taking his virginity (and vice versa) once more held in glowing red and gold light inside his head.
fuck, he wriggles on the bed slightly, trying to keep his motions limited to hips and lower, his good arms, and his head. wanting denji to stop fucking around and pull his damn pants off completely so he's not stuck with his legs trapped in the hem, knees twitching each time he tries to instinctively spread his legs around his boyfriend's strong chest and narrow hips. each kissing run along the side, hot breath ghosting over his shaft, fingers playing along the seam of his sac, cheek nuzzling into the now-leaking tip of his cock leaving a wet smear on denji's skin. all but tossing his head to the side with a snarling cuss when saliva drips and oozes cool slick hot onto his glans and runs down his shaft soon enough. fuck, he's salivating all over his dick and katsuki wants to grab his head and shove it right down onto himself. resisting, instead fisting the sheets and groaning as his boyfriend eases his head up to the tip once more and torments him with playful suckling and circling tongue, simultaneously fluting his fingertips up and down his now-glistening length. he's being so damn slow with it too-!!
bakugo whips his head to the front, snarling breathlessly down the length of his damaged chest when denji kisses the inside of his thigh. he can only get his knees partially up before the dynaband of his sweats' hem catches on the half-devil's chest, pinning his ripcord to his sternum and holding the hero's legs down at a certain level. the guy's basically lying between his thighs as it is and only bothered those pants down to middle thigh. bastard, lounging down there with his lashes long and his cheeks covered in rouge and his tawny eyes almost glowing behind that shaggy covering of sandy hair... he missed him. he missed him so damn much. only now remembering it clearly. until denji sets his mouth on katsuki's tip and closes his lips around it. soft and warm suddenly giving way to sharp white points that would make most people recoil and shout, but has the other boy panting in pleasure, finally ripping his hand from the sheets and fisting into his boyfriend's hair instead, head falling back on the pillow and legs struggling against their confines as precum lances onto denji's tongue. yeah, so apparently he's still got that kink for denji's teeth. fuck off. good to know his lover hasn't regained his gag reflex in the past few hours.]
no subject
riding high on instinct and impulse, working his wet mouth as he slid his stretched lips along his lover's dick in shallower, short thrusts, making sure that sensitive tip gets a proper feel of the warmth of the back of his throat; again, not a single cough and gag, just pure bliss. eyes closed, denji took him in deeper, moving his hand in sync with his head, humming appreciatively while his tongue painted hot swirls around the hero's arousal. as for his teeth? yeah, he will always be careful with those fuckers, but it didn't mean bakugou wouldn't feel them. the occasional, light touch along his length; a fleeting sting just before retreat. and at some point, as denji paused very briefly to swallow the mess pooling inside his mouth, the pressure lingered for just a second longer, letting the points rest against flesh, feeling the pulse and throb beneath. there was no teasing, talking, or goofing around this time— it was intense, way too eager for a tease, and denji didn't want to even entertain another pause after the first one. he kept sucking, licking, and stroking his lover with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the fact he's actively ignoring bakugou's silent demand to free his legs is something. no, he didn't plan to assist him with that, favoring restricting that boy this time. for his safety, at first, and for denji's pleasure, second. speaking of pleasure - it's getting a bit too intense. for himself.
while it was merely a few hours in the half-devil's timeline, as bakugou hasn't been out of the picture for too long, he also missed him. he can't explain the fucking logic behind it, but everything about this felt like they'd been weeks apart for some reason. so it's to no one surprise he was painfully hard already, and if it was any other day, he'd probably go for more. fuck. taking him in deeper, denji muffled a groan against his full mouth, hollowing his cheeks a bit. he caught his breath, not missing a beat as his fingers took over, leaning back with reddened lips as he popped them off bakugou's cock, wet and slick, smeared with the leaking pre-cum all over. a short retreat, they caught each other's gaze for a second, denji even smiled - he dares to do with those lips and teeth bared. yeah, he missed this handsome face.
the sounds he's making now, both unintentional thanks to the drool and the ones full of aroused need forming in the back of his throat, are obscene. the room is too quiet to mask them, but nothing about their act is modest, to begin with, or moral. whenever he feels bakugou attempt to shift or squirm under him, denji is careful to keep him in place, mindful of his injuries even when improper thoughts are getting too loud in his head. "he can take it." ... "he's a hero and trained to handle any amount of pain." ... "maybe if you ask nicely, bakugou would agree!"
yeah, the recovery journey will be interesting ... ]