The midsummer sun was overly hot. Laying back on the grass, Bakugou watched as the clouds slowly drifted in the sky above. His wrist and hands were killing him from the brutal training. Flexing his fingers, he heard the final bell ringing- alerting them the school day was finally done. Groaning, the last thing Bakugou wanted to do was move.
"You did well today," Mr. Aizawa said in passing. "Shower and rest. Tomorrow will be worse."
That man had a sadistic fucking side to him. Bakugou couldn't even imagine after today how it could get any worse. His wrist and forearms ached so bad, his palms tingling- even in the hot summer sun, his sweat still built up, but there was no will to fire off a blast.
"Need a hand, monsieur?" Aoyama asked, standing above him- though he was not extending a hand out to him- they were behind his head and the sun shone around him. Bakugou blinked and wondered how damn sparkly one guy could be.
Shaking his head, Bakugou sat up an took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he mumbled. He did not even have the strength to bitch back at someone offering him help.
"Au revoir!" Aoyama sang as he skipped away.
Like he would ever need a sparkly, twinkly little weirdo to help him.
The class had all slowly made their way off the field, moving to the locker rooms. Bakugou felt how dry his mouth was, and stopped by the water fountain to the side of the building.
"Très bien!" Aoyama sang, "Can't get dehydrated!"
Most days, Bakugou just ignored everyone around him- today especially. Long pulls from the fountain and maybe he was slightly dehydrated. They had water bottles out on the field, but he had pushed extra hard, and the sun was unforgiving.
"Bakugou!" Mr. Aizawa said as he stood up. "I mean it, rest up tonight. Use your hands as little as possible, and here-" Mr. Aizawa passed him over some cooling pads. "I know it defeats the purpose of your training, but when you are not training, wrap those around your hands to soothe your joints. Your quirk puts a lot of tensions on them."
"Uh… sure," Bakugou said, grabbing the cooling pads, throwing in his bag.
"Don't be up all night playing those video games either," Mr. Aizawa said, "rest your hands." With that, he spun on his heels and walked away.
Even standing in the shaded area was hot as fuck. Bakugou felt the sweat building up on his forehead and wiped it with his shirt. He could not wait to stand under the ice cold water and just wash this heat away.
"Awwwww, triste bébé," the singsong voice of Aoyama once more, lifting from the same water fountain he was just at and staring over at him. "Non use of your hands makes for a perdue evening, non?"
"The fuck are you even saying?" Bakugou growled, staring over as indigo eyes stared at him, almost sparkling, taking a step in his direction.
"How is a guy suppose to go all night and not use his hands?" Aoyama asked.
"I'll wrap them in the damn cooling wraps!" Bakugou spit out- wondering what this freak was getting on about.
"Oh monsieur, how sad," Aoyama sand, stepping into his personal space, backing him to the wall.
Bakugou would have blasted him if his hands weren't throbbing as it was. Any thought of using his quirk sent a shiver down his spine. A smile creeped across Aoyama's face while his finger touched his chest and trailed down.
"We need our strong men able to protect us," Aoyama whispered, his finger trailing lower, snapping at his waistband.
"Aoyama!" Bakugou growled.
"Oiu?"
"The fuck you doing?" Bakugou asked- but before he knew what was happening, Aoyama's overly soft hand was into his gym shorts, wrapping around his limp cock, gently stroking. Gasping, Bakugou was just frozen for a moment. Aoyama's long lashes fluttered as they stared up at him, and he swore this fucker was wearing a sparkling lip gloss. "What? Aoy-"
A finger placed to his lips and Aoyama just fluttered his lashes again. "Don't think about it… just feel it, monsieur."
What Bakugou felt was the softest hand he had ever come in contact with- wrapped around his cock and slowly stroking it hard. He had no idea his body would react this way or why Aoyama was even doing this. He wanted to stop him, he wanted to thrust his hips into the hand- but shock took over his body.
"...why?" he croaked.
"Just feel," Aoyama breathed, his face to close to his, both of them breathing hard. The bag on Bakugou's shoulder falling off to the ground. The air was thick, and each breath he tried to take labored.
They didn't kiss, no that would be weird. Like what was happening wasn't weird enough. Bakugou arched his back a bit, clenching his fist. Aoyama was breathing so heavy into his neck, his arm jerking as he continues to stroke his cock.
Bakugou wasn't sure if he was stunned, or just confused- maybe a mixture of it all. Here was someone, he barely even fucking knew- standing outside, next to the fucking locker room getting a hand job. Anyone could come around the corner and see them. Biting his bottom lip, he couldn't even protest, he didn't want to protest- and that pissed him off.
If he had not been so caught off guard, maybe he would have done something- or anything. But Aoyama continued to work his hand over his cock, his breath heavy on his neck.
"You're so sweaty, monsieur," Aoyama breathed.
"It's… hot," Bakugou gasped, then felt like an idiot for stating the obvious.
"Très chaud," Aoyama whispered, twisting his wrist at the head of his cock, making Bakugou gasp and his body tremble. Breathing harder, he felt the sweat build up more on his body the faster Aoyama was stroking him.
He had no idea how long they had been standing there- he wasn't even at a mental state to even admit this was happening. Aoyama's hand never stopping, his cock steadily leaking precum, the humid air filling his nose and burning his lungs.
"Fuck!" Bakugou groaned, feeling his cock leak more and his balls tighten up, His knees growing weaker and the blunt nails from his fingers digging into his palm. Another twist of Aoyama's wrist and he was spilling in his briefs, all over Aoyama's hand.
"Très bien," Aoyama said, pulling his hand from his shorts, and even having the gaul to lick his fingers.
"What… the… fuck?" Bakugou asked, still gasping for air and thankful the brick wall was there to hold him up.
"You were told not to use your hands! Au revoir!" Aoyama sang, kissing the tip of his finger and pressing to Bakugou's lips before he skipped away, once again.
Bakugou figured it was the heat messing with his head. All that shit didn't just happen. If that was the case- then why did the air still smell of roses, and why were his briefs soaked with his own cum?
"Bakugou!" Kirishima called out, "C'mon! The showers are free and you said you'd go get the newest mangas with me!"
"Shut your damn trap!" Bakugou yelled, grabbing his bags.
To say Bakugou's head was fucked was an understatement. He stood under the ice cold water way longer than usual- swearing the scent of roses was still on him somehow. Even Kirishima barking at him to hurry didn't speed him up.
"C'mon man! Everyone is soon heading to the bookstore!" Kirishima whined as they dropped off their stuff at the dorms.
He was only half listening to Kirishima as it was. Bakugou kept scanning around the place looking for anything that sparkled, but nothing came into sight. A long sigh and Bakugou chalked it up to being overheated. That shit never happened.
"Seriously! If my manga is sold out I'm going to be pissed!" Kirishima said, making them pick up the pace. Bakugou grunted, and they finally made it to the bookstore.
"Calm the hell down," he growled.
"You know I've been waiting for this manga!" Kirishima whined.
Oh he knew, it was all he had heard about since last month. Though to be fair, he was looking forward to it as well- not that he would tell Kirishima this. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he saw ahead where Aoyama and Uraraka were walking and chatting together.
Squinting his eyes, he glared at the back of that blond head before them. He could hear the ring of laughter coming from the two.
"Bakugou!" Kirishima bitched, "Are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah… manga…" he grumbled.
"What is with you today?" Kirishima asked, "Did Mr. Aizawa work you too hard?"
"He didn't work me hard enough!" Bakugou spit. Like hell he was going to tell Kirishima what happened. Instead, he continued to glare at the back of Aoyama's head. He almost had it in him to confront Aoyama, but he was torn. Was confronting him admitting what happened?
"Bakugou! C'mon! We are here!" Kirishima called.
The bookstore was cool, nothing like the hot humid air of the outside. Both of them rushing to the manga stand, grabbing copies of the newest volume and Kirishima yelled out his excitement. Having the newest manga did make Bakugou feel a bit better, and he got lost looking at the newest issues that had come out this week. He momentarily had stopped thinking about Aoyama and what had happened earlier.
"Let's grab ice cream on the way back to the dorms!" Kirishima exclaimed, both of them now with a stack of mangas in their arms making their way to the register. He got so lost in the way Kirishima was rambling on, all his theories about what they were about to read when he felt someone brush up against the front of him. Blond hair swished in front of him and how had he not noticed Aoyama and Uraraka in front of them? The scent of roses seemed to come out of nowhere.
"Pardon!" Aoyama sang, smiling over at them, his arms filled with colorful mangas as they all moved to check out.
"Oi! Uraraka!" Kirishima said, moving to her side. "I see you read 'Blood Fist'! Bad ass!"
"Yes!" she squealed, "I love how they punch and splatter blood everywhere!"
It was then that Kirishima and Uraraka went into deep details of different combat style from the manga. A bump on his hip, and Bakugou was staring at Aoyama.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"Find what you were looking for?" Aoyama asked.
Grunting his reply, Bakugou felt a tremble in his body just standing there next to Aoyama. It was as if them standing next to each other that someone would find out what happened.
"Mademoiselle," Aoyama said, moving next to Uraraka and touching her wrist. "If we want to stop by the store for more lip gloss, we better hurry."
Just like that, Aoyama was flipping his hair, and checking out. Bakugou just stood there, wondering if maybe he did imagine everything. Maybe the heat had taken over his brain, making him imagine the weirdest shit ever.
It was his turn to check out, and as he got out his money, a hand was on his shoulder. "Don't forget," Aoyama purred in his ear. "No using your hands tonight."
Bakugou choked on the air as the cashier waited for him to pay.
That evening he stayed holed up in his room with Kirishima as they both read mangas. Kirishima would squeal over every damn chapter, as Bakugou just wanted to finish the damn thing. Once it was time for 'lights out', Kirishima went back to his room and Bakugou just laid in bed, staring at his dark ceiling.
Moving his hands over his chest, he sighed. Today had really mind fucked him. He had, maybe only a handful of encounters as it was with Aoyama, and all a sudden it was all he could think about.
The soft hand, the scent of roses, indigo eyes with the longest eyelashes he had ever seen...
He found he was reaching into his pants, his hands all rough and calloused. Not soft like Aoyama's. Realizing what he was doing, Bakugou pulled his hand away and turned to scream into his pillow.
