Aizawa is tired.
There aren't words for how tired he really is as he sheds his clothes in the middle of the living room. His patrol went longer than expected and now he's trudging through his apartment at just past 2am half dead and smelling like he rolled in something that died three weeks ago.
He wants to forgo the shower entirely and just change the sheets when he wakes up, but his body is on autopilot and before he knows it he's standing naked in his shower and washing his body under the scalding spray as fast as his tired hands will allow.
"Are you just now getting home?" comes a deep, warm voice from the doorway.
"Unfortunately." Aizawa answers, poking his soaking wet head out of the curtain to find his...boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Friends with benefits? Whatever the fuck they are, Shirakumo is standing shirtless except for a pair of joggers that sit low on his ridiculously cut hips, and he's giving Aizawa that look. The one he uses just before he fucks Aizawa's brains out."And before you try something, absolutely not. I am too tired to fuck you or fuck with you right now. I just wanna crawl in bed and die."
"But you won't even have to do anything. I'll do all the work." Shirakumo offers, voice low and perfect like it always is. " You can be my little pillow princess."
Aizawa huffs out an exhausted breath as he turns the shower off and takes the towel that Shirakumo hands to him when he pulls back the curtain. "Why are you even awake right now? Don't you have patrol in a few hours?"
"Maybe." Comes an amused hum, followed by soft lips being pressed to Aizawa's. Even as tired as he is, he can't stop the way he leans into Shirakumo's body, into the way his strong hands thread hot and possessive through Aizawa's damp hair.
"Oboro…" Aizawa sighs against his lips, already half way to giving in.
"Shh, I've got you." strong arms are suddenly lifting him up and tossing Aizawa over Shirakumo's shoulder, the towel slipping from around Aizawa's waist as they leave the bathroom.
"Wha-?! God damn it, Oboro, put me down. I'm not in the mood for this."
"You really need to relax, Sho." Those incredibly warm hands are palming over Aizawa's ass and down his thighs as Shirakumo steps into the bedroom and gently deposits Aizawa onto the bed.
"If you would let me crawl in bed and go to sleep I would be plenty relaxed, you asshole." Aizawa grumbles, but there's no real heat behind it and he can hear Shirakumo chuckle in response. He lets his body go limp against the mattress, his tired muscles finally relaxing after such a long day, and Aizawa lets out a contented sigh as his eyes fall closed.
"Stay just like that for me. You're already doing so well, baby." Shirakumo praises, and Aizawa is helpless but to sink further into the mattress.
He both loves and hates Shirakumo's voice. It's so deep and warm and unfairly sexy. Aizawa always wants to fall into it, like a perfectly drawn bath, and just let it wash over him in waves—exactly like it is now. And it makes it very difficult to find a reason not to let him have his way.
There are lips brushing against his knees and hands pushing Aizawa's legs apart so those lips can venture upwards. There's the soft tickle of Shirakumo's facial hair against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, followed by the press of lips and the warm ghosting of breath before a warm, wet tongue is trailing along his skin. It's slow and Aizawa loses himself to it easily, following each movement by feel alone as he lays limbless on the bed, utterly content to let Shirakumo have his way.
It feels good, but then again it always does when he gets like this. Shirakumo is a selfless person by nature, and when it comes to Aizawa giving has always been his love language. By the time those hands are sliding up Aizawa's waist and Shirakumo's lips are pressed to the head of his cock, Aizawa is fully hard and subtly rocking into every touch.
"I love how sensitive you are, Shouta. You always make the prettiest noises when I touch you." Shirakumo whispers, and it sounds like a cat purring against his skin, it's so deep.
"O-Oboro." Aizawa moans, and Shirakumo chuckles against his skin, smooth, full lips trailing lovingly along his cock.
"Mm, just like that. I'll never get tired of hearing you say my name." Shirakumo licks a slow, wet stripe against his dick and Aizawa shutters. "Will you say it again for me? Please?"
Aizawa is already opening his mouth to do it again, his body acting on it's own in his tired, relaxed state. But then there's a sudden heat wrapping around his cock that fries his brain and Shirakumo's name is coming out on a loud, choked out moan. "Ob-Oboro!"
Shirakumo hums as he swallows Aizawa down. His mouth is hot and wet and Aizawa is chasing that delicious feeling as he pushes himself deeper into Shirakumo's mouth. There is no resistance, just Shirakumo bobbing his head smoothly in time with every needy roll of Aizawa's hips. Shirakumo lets him go on like that, Aizawa chasing his own pleasure as his body melts into the mattress and under Shirakumo's touch.
"Close, fuck, I'm gonna-." Aizawa whines, face hidden behind his hands as a ridiculously pitiful sound leaves his lips. He comes in Shirakumo's mouth, who drinks it down with a pleased little noise that always makes Aizawa hot all over. His body draws up tight, his orgasm rolling through him like thunder, before finally going limp against the bed again.
He's left breathless, chest rising and falling as Aizawa struggles to get his breathing under control and maintain consciousness. Shirakumo has yet to release Aizawa's cock from his mouth, his tongue slowly caressing the softening flesh until it's too much and Aizawa is practically shaking under him.
"Oboro." Aizawa whines.
"I know, I've got you." Shirakumo reassures him, and suddenly Aizawa is shaking for a completely different reason. Shirakumo's voice has gone deeper, a gravely edge to it that tells Aizawa just how affected he is by this. "Turn over for me, kitten."
Aizawa turns, his body slow to respond at first, and lies back down on his stomach. Shirakumo slides a pillow under his hips and coaxes Aizawa's legs apart until he's completely bared for Shirakumo's eyes. "Beautiful, every inch of you, but especially here."
Shirakumo drags a slick finger between Aizawa's cheeks, trailing through the course black hair along his perineum and back up to circle lazily around his hole. "Look at you, opening so sweetly for me." Shirakumo hums, as he pushes the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle and Aizawa moans as he's slowly stretched open.
Shirakumo doesn't rush, and Aizawa feels his body get heavier and heavier with every second spent at his mercy. His eyes have long since been heavy, falling closed the second he was laid across the bed—now, Aizawa couldn't open his eyes if he wanted to, the steady drag of Shirakumo's finger slowly making him lose his mind.
There's no urgency to the way he painstakingly works Aizawa open. He gradually eases one finger in, and by the time Shirakumo is even considering a second Aizawa is already hard again, cock rubbing deliciously against the pillow beneath his hips.
The second fingers leaves Aizawa breathless and rocking his hips against those thick fingers as they slowly scissor him open, curling every so often to barely brush against Aizawa's prostate before vanishing again.
By the time Shirakumo has made it to three fingers Aizawa is a drooling, whining mess against the sheets. He's full on rocking into every touch, the haze of his exhaustion mixing with the way Shirakumo is keeping him on edge, getting him close over and over again before pulling back—Aizawa feels like he's actually losing his mind.
"P-please-oh, OH!- Don't stop! Oboro, please let me come this time. I'm so tired and it hu- it hurts." Aizawa begs,tears running down his face as he fucks back against Shirakumo's fingers where they are rubbing against his prostate again. He just wants to finally come and sleep and his mind is too thick with want and the soul deep exhaustion pulsing through his body to care that he's sobbing into the mattress.
"Shhh, you're doing so good, Sho. Oh kitten, you sound so pretty when you cry." He's breathing endless affections into Aizawa's skin, lips brushing against the sensitive spot where his thigh and his ass meet. "Are you close?"
"Yes, yes! I'm so close, so close I just need-I, I'm-" Aizawa rushes out, head swimming with the overwhelming sensations making his entire body shake.
"I know exactly what you need." Shirakumo chuckles, and Aizawa's entire being feels wrung out as those sinful fingers are pulled from his body.
Aizawa doesn't hear the cap of the lube, doesn't feel the dip in the bed as Shirakumo climbs up to situate himself between Aizawa's legs, nor does he notice that at some point Shirakumo had stripped completely naked, leaving his pants and underwear lying discarded on the floor.
What Aizawa does notice is the slick head of Shirakumo's cock rubbing dizzying circles against his hole before slowly driving forward, the thick head and even thicker shaft pulling a ragged moan from Aizawa's throat as Shirakumo begins to slowly, agonizingly slow, sink deep inside him.
"Oboro! I-I'm-!" Aizawa chokes, all thoughts and words tossed aside as his body tenses beneath Shirakumo and he comes in thick messy ropes against the pillow before Shirakumo is even fully seated inside him.
And he doesn't stop, doesn't ease up as Aizawa begins to cry out and sob into the sheets when his body feels like it's being set on fire and he can no longer take it. No, Shirakumo plunges forward until he's buried so deep inside Aizawa he can practically taste every inch as he cries out.
"Too much." Aizawa whines, voice wet and raw from his sobs. "I can't, Oboro, I can't-." He can't take anymore. His body is so tired, so wrungout he can't hold himself up anymore and collapses onto the mattress. "Please."
Shirakumo hears him, hums pleased and amused above him as he continues to rock steadily into Aizawa's oversensive body. "You can't? Are you sure? Because you're squeezing me so tight, love. Every time I sink inside this greedy little hole sucks me in like it doesn't wanna let me go."
Aizawa keens, high and distressed in the back of his throat. But the rocking doesn't stop and the electric shocks pulsing through Aizawa's body start to feel better and better every time Shirakumo bottoms out inside him.
"You can take it, Shouta. We are already so close, right at the end, and you'll sleep so well afterwards." Shirakumo sounds so pleased, so amused by the whole thing, Aizawa would hate him if he wasn't doing ungodly things to Aizawa's body.
"Oboro."
"You're getting close again, aren't you?" Shirakumo whispers against Aizawa's back, and Aizawa is remiss to find that he is, in fact, close. He's hard again, his over-sensitive cock grinding against the pillow with slow drag of that cock buried inside him.
His body feels like a live wire, like his nerve endings are being set aflame one at a time. Aizawa is hyper aware of every breath, every heartbeat, the feel of his skin against the sheets, the unhurried drag of Shirakumo's cock inside him and it's all too much.
But beneath that there's a building pleasure that's radiating along the edges of his mind, across every inch of his body, and Aizawa finds himself weakly trying to push back into Shirakumo's steady thrusts.
"That's it, baby. Just like that, you're doing so good, so good. Come for me again, one more time."
As close as Aizawa is, it still takes time to get him there. It's a slow, strenuous process—one Shirakumo enjoys far more than he should—but when Aizawa finally, finally comes it's better than any orgasm Aizawa has ever had before.
It doesn't hit suddenly and it's not punched out of him like the others. Aizawa's orgasm builds like the rising tide, in easy waves that lap at his sanity until he's being pulled under so thoroughly he isn't aware he's coming until it's almost over.
Aizawa is shaking.
He's shaking so hard his muscles feel like glass, like they will shatter at any moment as the air is robbed from his lungs and he comes with a blinding intensity that lets him feel his heartbeat from his head all the way down to his toes.
His ears are ringing and his body feels like it's made of nothing, as if he suddenly ceased to exist the moment he orgasmed.
His mind is numb and Aizawa is slowly realizing he's passing out. There are black spots dancing across his vision, or maybe that's just his eyelids closing, and he tries to say something, anything to let Shirakumo know he's fading fast. He's not sure if he said something or not, but it doesn't matter as Aizawa finally falls under and he's completely lost to the world.
Aizawa isn't sure what time it is or what planet he's on or what his name is for that matter, but when he wakes up at some point—hours, minutes, days? Later—there is a large, warm body wrapped around him and snoring softly into his hair.
He slowly takes stock of his body and his surroundings, noting that both he and Shirakumo, because he can remember that much at least, are tucked snuggly under the covers and resting comfortably at the head of the bed, rather than the end of it where Aizawa remembers passing out.
He also notes that he doesn't feel sticky from sweat or crusted with dried jizz so Shirakumo must have cleaned them both up before putting them both to bed. Aizawa is enjoying how sweet the gesture is when he catches sight of the time on the little digital clock on the nightstand and immediately shoots up in bed.
"Oboro, wake up, you're late for patrol. OBORO! Wake up!" Aizawa mildly panics, shaking the sleeping giant until tired blue eyes are looking up at him in confusion.
"Shouta why are you yelling? Go back to sleep." He yawns, trying to pull Aizawa back into his arms so he can get comfortable again.
"You're late, you idiot! It's past noon!" Aizawa is midway through trying to shove him off the bed when he hears the soft chuckle and disgustingly endearing snort come from his bedmate.
"Stop shoving me, love. It's Sunday, I don't work on sundays. You know that."
Aizawa stares at him for a long minute, expression blank as he tries to figure out what day it is. "No, it's Friday and you're late."
"No," Shirakumo laughs again, harder, and reaches over to grab his phone from the opposite night stand and holds it in Aizawa's face. "It's Sunday afternoon and neither of us have to work for the next two days."
Aizawa stares at the phone, that does in fact say it's Sunday afternoon, and breathes out a confused, "fuck.". He'd somehow lost track of time...again. But this time he lost two days instead of a handful of hours or that time he couldn't remember what month it was...
"This is what happens when you go multiple days at a time without sleeping, Shouta. You're pushing yourself too hard." It's not an accusation or berating in any way, Shirakumo just says it like it's the truth, which it is.
Aizawa sighs, let's warm hands pull him back under the covers and back against Shirakumo's wide chest. "My brain isn't working because you almost killed me last night." He grumbles instead, and Shirakumo is already burying his face into the space between his neck and shoulder.
"You would have spent the entire night tossing and turning if I hadn't. Needed to fuck the restlessness out of you." Shirakumo only half jokes and it's Aizawa who snorts this time. But he can't deny that he feels pretty good even after only a handful of hours of sleep, even if his body is hella sore.
He turns into Shirakumo's embrace and finds himself humming as fingers begin to card through his loose hair, finger tips scratching along his scalp and eventually turning into large hands massaging down the back of his neck.
It's really hard to be anything but a mindless puddle of limbs when Shirakumo touches him like this.
"Thank you." He whispers, knowing full well Shirakumo can hear him.
"You're welcome, kitten." There's a pause, and Shirakumo's hands venture further and further down Aizawa's body. He's not being subtle at all. "I could always put you back to sleep. You looked so good when I did it last night."
"Ugh, I hate you."
"No you don't."
Shirakumo is already pulling them close, lifting Aizawa's leg and pulling it up to rest against a thick thigh. He's exposed like this, ass spread and his most sensitive parts being assaulted by the cool air in the room.
But he can't even bother to complain when soft lips are pressing into his own and skilled fingers are already wrapping around his quickly hardening cock.
Ok, so maybe he doesn't hate him… right now, anyway.