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Phase Two: the bachelor day-into-night party on a drifting, converted cargo ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
The sun had set beyond the horizon when we landed. The Ingeni-Jet arrived an hour ahead of its scheduled taxi, so our descent was delayed by a half-hour. The converted cargo ship had two helicopter pads on a detached roof extended from its highest shipping containers by steel joints. They seemed to be the only way on and off the floating metal behemoth.
The ship's air was thick with liquored energy and a musty, metallic stench like it's never been scrubbed. The ship's atmosphere became stickier the lower we descended into its belly. Even with the cool nighttime currents of the Pacific, I could feel my Quirk glands overproducing and storing up sweat. An endless club on the open seas, the entire vessel was the size of a major league sports stadium. Each of the six levels boasted its own themed experiences-from open-air Olympic gyms, pools, basketball courts, running tracks, and sakkā fields on the top floor; luxury lodging and fine dining restaurants on the fourth and fifth; to bars and lounges with smoke, poles, whips, and chains for various kinks and pleasures on the third floor. Each floor hosted some flavor of fun to satisfy the most eclectic fancies. The scene, at least at night, was horny enough to be a playful person's pleasure playground. The main party was contained in the ship's cratered center arena. The stacked shipping containers formed a dystopian wall, blocking the endless waters surrounding us.
Soon after we embarked, the group split off into factions. Sato, Ojiro, Koda, and Shoji stayed on the top floor to work out. The rest of us went further surprised me. The Fishbowl, as it was called, was loud, full of discordant music, rambunctious partygoers, music-synced rainbowed strobe lights, and clatterings of chaotic conversations. Large, sweaty swells of people being reckless in diverse ways crashed into us on every side. Where they all came from, only God knows. What they'd been doing before we arrived, only God knows. But what happened in the countless shipping containers that had been repurposed into large, voyeuristic dens of sensual sexuality and sin, stayed in them. This was not Tenya Iida's normal scene of enjoyment, to say the least.
But it was the perfect vibe for me. If I weren't...well, you know.
"I'll get us some drinks," Mineta squawked. Kaminari looked down at him with pitiful eyes.
"I should join you. I'm afraid you might get eaten or thrown overboard." He patted one of Mineta's mohawked balls.
"Good idea, Denki!" He said, climbing on Kami's shoulders. They walked off as well-built nearly-nude male dancers and skimpy bottle girls with huge boobs and firm asses slipped through crowds of intoxicated partygoers swarming them for fresh drinks and stuffing tips down their crotches. I didn't expect my boy to agree to attend this debaucherous event by choice. When we stepped off of the first floor's lift and witnessed a well-known billionaire heir to a Japanese baseball team taking shots out of an exotic dancer's belly button and a line of sand off of another's ass crack right in front of a cocktail shrimp fountain, I knew we were in for one hell of a night. I looked at Tenya's cheeks flush and wondered if his disposition would truly be able to keep up with this craziness without policing a single soul.
Probably not.
"Is that Denki kicking the deejay off the stand right now?" I squinted across the massive dance floor. Kiri, Tenya, and the other extras turned in the direction I was pointing. Sure enough, Kami was electrifying the turntables while ripping through his electric guitar. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow were behind him reveling in the dark.I didn't even notice them slink into the dark.
"Indeed, it is!" Tenya boomed over the arena's speakers blaring with electric sound waves. "This is going to rock, is it not!"
I cup my ear to hear Tenya. "What? Did you say 'this is gonna suck'?"
"No!"
"I know! It is gonna suck!" I said. Kami good, but he was not his girlfriend on the ones-and-twos. A great guitarist and playlist deejay, but Class A had suffered through many bad DJ sets over the years. Someone's Quirk turned the volume down. My bleeding ears settled in relief. I heard Deku's soft voice whispering on my right. I tried not to look in his direction, but of course I listened.
"Shoto, let's dance!"
"Uh. Okay," Icy Hot replied. They moved into the wave of dancing bodies and a current tugged at me to join them. I resisted. Yoarashi, Sero, and Shinso did not. I fixed my eyes on their spot on the dance floor. I watched on as Deku's body deftly moved through the crowd gripping Shoto's hand. One For All had trained him well to be in graceful command of every muscle and tendon in his chiseled body. Shoto, on the other hand, moved like water around him. They danced like two koi fish circling each other alone in a pond.
"Whose idea was it to host your bachelor party on an abandoned cargo ship floating in the middle of nowhere?" I blurted in Tenya's ear to distract my envious thoughts. We were bopping to a sirens-heavy EDM beat at the edge of the dance floor.
"Mineta," he said. My eyes bulged. Was he out of his mind?! Tenya smirked at me like he'd read my mind. "Don't worry! I ensured that all attendees and staff were approved to board beforehand."
My jaw dropped. "You do not know all these people!"
"Certainly not! But Mineta's events hero agency does," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging, before downing the Aperol spritz Dark Shadow had brought him. "For the bachelor boy," the shadowy monster bowed. Tenya finished his drink in one gulp. "Mineta's sidekicks ran background checks on everyone here. I'm not so sure it was with consent, though." We shared a bewildered laugh that reminded me how much I've missed my friend.
"I'm just surprised. This doesn't really seem like your thing, class rep," I chuckled.
Tenya rubbed his chest, no doubt where the alcohol was burning his entrails. "I don't know what it is, but I kind of like the chaos of civilian life now. It's easy to get lost out there," he gestured up at the shining half-moon above us and I knew he was referring to hero life. "So many responsibilities and lives to save and care for. But here, it's just me and my boys with a bunch of random, eccentric people who don't care about any of that life, all having fun in one place. I wanted that experience before getting married."
I frowned, kind of feeling sorry for him. "You know you can still have that in your married life, right?" He flashed a bewildered look that told me not only was I grossly wrong, but Iida had already determined the kind of husband he'd be. Tenya has remained a dutiful, loyal, and neutral friend to all of us over the past decade. Especially to me. Sobriety has enabled me to cherish his kindness even more. So, of course, he'd be on the straight and narrow for Yao-momo.
I started. "Hey, uh, thanks."
He tilted his head curiously. "Why are you thanking me, Dynamight?"
I scratched my nape, awkwardly avoiding the emotional vulnerability Iida was unwittingly requesting. I locked eyes with the soul-ensnaring stares of a power bottom in leather walking around passing out shooters. No more alcohol, if I can help it. "For inviting me. And, y'know…for bringing me home two nights ago."
"Ah, I'm just glad you're all right, brother. It's my honor to ensure your safety. It looked like you went through a lot fighting that villain the other night. At least you got home safely before you did anything you'd regret."
"Heh," I let out a half-hearted chuckle. Too late. "And I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I..." I stalled. A stone formed in my throat. "I should've known. I should've called. To, y'know, check in." The shame wouldn't allow me to even look him in the eye. Tenya lightly bumped my shoulder.
"Hey, like I said. It is all right. Water under the bridge. You were not in the best place in your life, either. You were but a shell of your current, stronger self, not in recovery or changing your direction. Interestingly enough, losing Tensei reminded me of how important brotherly bonds are to me. He was the best big brother I could've asked for and our brotherhood led me to UA. Forming another brotherhood with you guys, knowing I still had the lot of you to call friend and brother made the pain of losing him sting a little less. I knew I wasn't alone. I still had my Class A brothers. That's why I had to come to New York to see you. That's why I'm glad you're here." That righteously pure Tenya smile pierced through my armor of guilt and shame and shattered it.
Dammit! He's too gracious.
I embraced my bro. "At least let me buy you a shot." Then grabbed two shots from the only waiter gutsy enough to approach us. The rest preferred to simply gawk from afar. I passed both shots to Tenya. The tall, burly waiter in leather ass chaps and a biker hat that I'd been staring at stood waiting in front of me with a cheeky grin. He had a scruffy goatee and a bare, sun-tanned chest full of glittery, curly hair. Apart from that, everything about his aesthetic was prim and proper, like he'd never had a speck of dirt touch his smooth skin a day in his life. I wrapped a strong arm around his damp waist.
"It's my brother's bachelor party!" I screamed in the waiter's ear above the earsplitting music, pointing a third test tube-filled shot at Tenya. "My bro's getting married on Sunday!"
"Happy bachelor party," the fine waiter bowed, smiling. "Oh, good! He's your brother! For a second I was sad thinking he was your lover." He looked between us before landing a double-take on Tenya. "Oh shit! Wait a second... Aren't you the Japanese pro hero, Ingenium?"
Tenya immediately blushed beet red. I could see beads of nervous sweat of recognition pricking upon his forehead. "I am," he said low.
"Oh my god, no fucking way! My baby brother loves you! You're his favorite pro! His Quirk is similar to yours, you see—" He handed Tenya the shooter holster to hold, adding, "but without the built-in mufflers," as he dug out his phone from a black sack on his waist. He showed us his phone screensaver. It was the picture of a young boy with the waiter's exact face in a navy blue tracksuit, smiling toothless with a gold medal around his neck. "So here I am saving up to buy him some support gear so he can run faster than a speeding bullet all because of you! Hey! Can I get a picture and your autograph for him? He'll never believe this! He's gonna do my laundry for a month!"
Tenya and I burst into laughter. He nodded, embarrassed as hell. "Sure thing," he blushed. "Always a pleasure to meet the older brother of a fan," he said with tears in his eyes. I took the picture for them and watched as the waiter rummaged through the sack again, unable to keep my gaze from wandering to the bulging, black leather center of his thick, smooth legs. My filthy imaginations of what I would do to him wandered along with it. Tenya signed the man's neck with a permanent marker from the waiter's jock strap and admired his work. "We probably should've written this on a piece of paper?"
"Nah, man. It's fine. Thanks!" The man swiped the marker from Tenya, sticking in his full beard, and exchanged it for another shot. "On the house," He purrs then rotates his solid form towards me. His build screams it was trained and conditioned by a contact sport. "Hi, I'm Guy!" It was the French pronunciation that I enjoyed saying but hated reading in print. Ironically, Guy was also the name of the pet bichon frisé Bliss often dogsat while we were dating.
"Hi, Ghee. I'm Kats—"
He pulled me in and bellowed in my ear, "Holy shit! You're kidding me, right?" My eyes grew wild with interest. Did this guy know who I am, too?
"What? Have we met?"
"No, Hyung!" He cackled. "And I don't need to know who you are, either, silly!" Guy placed a soft finger on my lips and slid it into my mouth. I sucked on that supple index finger and it tasted like caramelized sugar on my tongue.
Damn, this leather-strapped titan was sexy as hell.
And he was right; it was thoughtless, reckless of me to say my real name to a total stranger. I've been trying to rehab my international pro hero image for a while now. I still had to find an agency in Japan willing to take me on to rebuild my reputation back home. Sharing personal information with a hot bottle boy in leather chaps wasn't the way to do it. Guy slowly pulled his finger out of my mouth. Then, he leaned in and rolled his tongue down my ear canal. I gripped his waist against my groin, an animalistic response to being ear-fucked.
"You're just the sexy badass who's going to fuck my brains out in the staff locker room. Ground floor. One hour," he instructed, gravelly. Even though I seized his chin to pull him in for a kiss, and gave him a dominating glare, Guy ran his hands down my backside, placed a winking kiss on my neck, and left me hanging. Longing. Yearning. I patted myself down and pulled out what he slipped into my back pocket. I glanced down at the small bottle and scoffed, impressed but confused, and so fucking turned on. I wouldn't be needing the poppers. Either way, I knew where I'd be in an hour.
For some reason, that interaction gave me energy while also starting a lustful chain reaction as we moved through the ship. With a different deejay on the first two floors and bars at every turn, it felt like a stomach-churning repeat of my birthday rave. Kirishima swayed onto my shoulder and cleared his throat.
"Ahem, now that you're done eye-fucking the third waiter to hover around us..." We stopped at the edge of a balcony overlooking the main dance floor. He handed me a lit joint.
"Hey, they keep coming onto me,"I pointed out, wiping out my ear and taking a long drag.
"Right. So speaking of regretful decisions, have you spoken to either of them tonight?" Tenya looked into the sea of bobbing heads and rocking bodies. I knew exactly who his eyes landed on. I'd maintained a trained view of them in my periphery all night.
See, here's the thing about Tenya Iida that always fucked me up: because he's so damn good at being dutifully loyal to all of us, you never knew what he knows, or how much he knows about anything or anyone until he wanted you to know that he knew all along. Class A's president had been able to know and gatekeep everyone's business without betraying a single one of us for nearly a decade. It made tiptoeing around shit an easy game as teens and in our early twenties; talking around subjects until we couldn't anymore. But, how was I supposed to tell him about kissing Deku? That would certainly blow up the neurotically curated trip he planned to celebrate his love life. I'm mean and rude, but not cruel.
I blew out a steady stream of smoke. "Nah," I said flatly. He cocked his head at me with drunken confusion. "I mean, not in so many words..." Honestly, I was scared to say something. Not because of Shoto, but...maybe? I don't know. Deku and I had exchanged meaningful glances on the plane, while on the ship's lift, and across the dance floor but nothing more was done or said.
Not yet.
.
"DJ Denki!" Mineta cries out. "Your set was sick!"
"I strongly disagree," I grumble in the corner of a worn booth. Kami looks over at me.
"Huh? What was that, Bakugo?" The expression on his face tempts me to lie.
"I said, how did you get the spot?"
"Oh! DJ Prototype's one of Jiro's industry friends. He owed them a favor, so Jiro called it in because I wanted to scratch some tables!" His hair electrifies as he gestures like he's still performing on stage. I roll my eyes and stare off.
What a mooch.
I'd been sitting in the section Mineta reserved for the group in a cigar lounge. We're on the second level where the shipping containers have been gutted and repurposed into cigar bars and adult lounges. Listening to Mineta drunkenly bitch to Kami and Kiri about not having a girlfriend for the worst part of the last half hour makes me want to end it all. I'm too sober for this shit. Even though cacophonies of club music are blaring overhead from every speaker, I can still hear them consoling the whiny incel in the background. I push their pathetic conversation out of my mind and maintain my focus on the bar I've been watching the entire time. Shoto and Sero are sitting around Izuku, talking and laughing about who gives a fuck? Suddenly, Yoarashi whisks Shoto away from the bar and they're out of the lounge.
One left.
Sero leans over Izuku's shoulder and says something I can't see, but the bothered look on Izuku's face when their eyes meet says enough. I get up and cross the distance between us.
Mushing Sero off the barstool to Izuku's left, I position myself by his side. The sorry extra's been hovering around him since we entered the lounge, too afraid to actually make the first move with Shoto and Yoarashi flanking him. But I know what he wants. "Go find the unavailable boy you like," I suggest over my shoulder. "What're you sippin' on? I'll order your next round, Dek-" Suddenly, my mind goes blank. My heart leaps in my throat and I wonder what has come over me. Izuku still had that boyish pair of eyes that held so much concern for others in them. So much love.
"Mmm," Izuku rushes to swallow his drink. "Kacch- Katsuki, hey it's uh…" His gentle gaze peers deep into my soul, sparkling under the vast, inky sky and strobe lights. He always looks good in a navy suit and purple shirt combination, and those damn red hightops...but it's more than that. It's the way his bone structure has refined but not aged with angry lines. It's how he's managed to keep that hopeful twinkle in his eyes even with bags under his eyes.
"Um...guys?" Sero hiccups and stumbles over himself, more intoxicated than either of us thought, and Izuku plays the hero like always. He catches the dork from falling into the moshpit below, landing him safely in the booth I just left. Izuku returns in a flash. "It's just club soda and ice. And you could've just taken the seat on my right." He thumbs the empty bar stool an inch away.
"Eh, that weirdo had bad vibes. I didn't want him around you." I slide onto the stool beside him. He fiddles with his cocktail straw, deliberately not meeting my gaze.
"Funny. Shoto would say the same thing if he were to see you right now," he chuckles wryly, taking his seat.
Why am I always getting lumped together with this idiot?!
It'd already been an awkward way to start the conversation, but so was the nature of our reunion thus far. Might as well lean into the tension even more. What can I say? Pride is sewn into my very core. "I don't give a fuck what your dull-headed boyfriend would say," I yell trying to sound irreverent, but when Izuku tilts his head at me with a gentle warning, I surrender, irritated. "Ugh, fine! My bad! But I sincerely, truly—"
Izuku lets out a burdened sigh, taking a short sip as though just to wet his throat before swiveling to face me head-on. "What can I do for you, Katsuki?" He sounds more weathered than he looks. He looks even better up close. I want to touch his taut cheek and kiss his smile lines the way I've seen Shoto do.
The lucky bastard!
"Talk to me, Izuku," I calmly demand, keeping my hands to myself.
"About what, Bakugo?" He sounds sincere. Still, it feels like a challenge. I'm up for it. Hell, it's what I came back ready for, but... I lean my head back at the endless black sky and take a deep breath. The saltiness of the sea mist tickles my nose. It soothes me, and I finally feel the heavy wave of fatigue washing over me.
...I'm so tired of messing up with him because I'm an asshole.
But at the end of the day, I'm an honest asshole. And Izuku riles me up. I rest my elbows on the bar counter and cradle my fists."Well…for starters. Why do you keep calling me by my government name? You should know, you suck at keeping up with it. Just call me Kacchan, idiot." His eyelashes flutter in surprise and a great pride fills my belly that I had successfully caught him off guard. Can you blame me? He's my best rival.
Izuku frowns into his half-empty glass. "'Cause." I would give anything to know the things Izuku Midoriya thought about me.
"'Cause…what?"
He takes the rest of his drink to the head like it's hard liquor and not flat-fizzed water. "Because we're no longer close enough for childhood nicknames, Bakugo." He said my name like he was slicing through the sky with Air Force. It sends a shiver down my spine. I brace for more of Deku's fury. I need to tighten up, I tell myself. But it never comes. Izuku decisively puts down the glass and runs his hands through his slicked hair. His eyes pin me in place. I can't help but pull a face.
Wait — was that it?
"Bullshit! You were calling me Kacchan when I was at my peak of hating you."
"Yeah, well, I was young and naïve then. A child. Useless."
I look down at my black denim jeans but can still feel his gaze tracking me. My chest expands at a shameful memory. "So, what were you yesterday? Because if it's because of the kiss, Izuku, I—" I look up.
He stops me. "If anything you said yesterday is to be believed, you hated me the most when you loved me the most." (Mannnn...I cannot tell you how much sweat I instantly produced!) I study him for a moment. He's not wrong. The confusing feelings and sensations of childhood made me rage, but the scars on my chest bore a testament to what I did for love. My love for him has grown much more since then. That was the problem and the solution. It was love all along.
But...is it wise to say that?
I hold back. "Well, not exactly—"
He cuts me off again. It's not a pleasant feeling being shut up by Izuku. It's not a position I'm used to being in. "And you still don't get it, do you? Why are you trying to force repair what you resigned was broken so long ago? Just...let it go." I don't care for how self-possessed he's become in our interactions. It's like there's an impenetrable wall up against me. I guess I deserve it, but that doesn't mean I gotta like it. Yet, I find myself very attracted to his newfound assertiveness. Yeah, thanks to Shoto. An icy stone sinks in my chest. Izuku hails down the bartender and I watch him timidly motion for a refill. I snap my fingers for two cups of water, then redirect my attention.
"Wait. So, it is about the kiss?"
"Yes! It's about the kiss! It's about the ignored and screened calls, the blocks on everything. It's about the blow to my stomach that almost killed me and missing All Might's funeral..." Deku's voice trailed off right before it could crack. But I still heard the faint splinter. "It's about everything that led to the kiss," he ends. I wonder if anyone could hear our conversation. He wasn't loud. His tone had been a sharp whistle through my ears, his eyebrows severe blades slashing across his heroic mug. But when he speaks again, he's eerily calm. "It's about this twisted, toxic ass..." he dismissively flails his hand in the air between us. "Whatever the hell this is."
I grab his wrist midair, lacing our fingers together in a firm grip. "Bakugo..." he warns me. This time, it's harsher. I won't listen. The bartender cautiously brings our boring-ass waters and monitors us from the bottle counter. I careen my head over my shoulder to glower at him.
"Wanna mind your fucking business, dumbass? Or do you need my help? All up in our mouths, like damn!" My Quirk flares over the wooden countertop, blistering the wooden ridges. The bartender stares at me, brooding, but chooses correctly and skulks off.
Izuku snuffs out sparking embers. "It's this behavior, Bakugo. I refuse to be your life-long punching bag, Bakugo."
His words rip me back in time, back to how I'd chosen to punish him for being better than me so long ago. It's comical how much I'm still haunted by the memories of not treating him as an equal from the very start. Probably would've saved us both a couple of bruised egos and broken hearts. I scoot over, closing the fine gap between us. Loosening my grip, I gently clench his fist."You're not my punching bag, Dek- Izuku."
"Yeah, alright. So your life-long emotional safety punching bag," he laughs. It cracks through the air and flutters above it all so positively carefree, that I'm confused about how to take it.
Was he being genuine? Facetious? Mocking? I shook my head.
"No, Izuku, you've got it all wrong. This is a life-long friendship, Izuku. One that's gone through tons of shit. But as two people who've experienced so much life together, and who still care about each other. C'mon, Deku. You of all people know that this isn't easy to shake. We've been through literal life and death together. What we have has been reborn more times than either of us can count. Shouldn't that count for something?" If I looked at my reflection right now, I'm sure it would be as desperate as I feel. I still can't tell what he's thinking.
He blinks like nothing I said clicked. "Should it?"
"Listen, I get it. I probably shouldn't have done that, but are you gonna sit there and tell me I'm the only one who felt something in that kiss? Seriously, Deku. Don't piss me off."
I could see the acid coating his face. "I'm pissingyouoff? Bakugo, you're trying to force a love confession out of me. Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? And what happened to no hero names all week?"
"I mean, be honest. You've told me you wanted this before, Izuku. It's not like I'm pulling these feelings out of my ass!"
"Yeah! When I said it, it meant something. Then." He closes his eyes to compose himself. "But you're right, Kacchan. I do feel something." My heart leaps into my throat. This was it. "I feel your selfishness searing my throat, your greed burrowing in my chest. Your immaturity crawls over my skin. I taste your hubris souring my tongue, and longstanding disrespect for my relationship with Shoto gives me a migraine. Is that sentimental enough for you? I can continue." He tilts his head as if waiting permissively.
"Okay..." I am stunned. "So, nothing at all...?" The single laugh that left Izuku's mouth irritated my impalement scar. I cup my chest. "What's that for?"
"Hey! Look at the two old best buds finally reuniting!" He hiccups. "Why so serious, pals? Midoriya, aren't you thrilled that you can have your exes in one room with your partner and friends again with zero drama?" "Bakugo, did you know..." Shinso slurs his words at us. He throws a limp arm around my shoulder and tugs me into him. My eyes slide to Izuku's mortified face.
"Shinso, please sit down and drink some water!" Izuku insists, shoving a cup in his ex's face.
Shinso breaks out into a drunken, singsongy rhyme. "Midoriya the Mother. Truly too kind. A friend or a lover, what is it this time? Who knows? But he'll never give you time to recover..." he hiccups again, "...from a broken heart!" He erupts into sad, bubbly laughter over my chest. Izuku's face is flushed by the lyrics, but he doesn't try to defend himself. I found that odd. I didn't disagree with Shinso's sad-ass song, but I was disgusted by his poor display, so I shook him off.
"Get ahold of yourself, moron. If you can't hold your liquor, don't drink so...aw, shut up! Don't give me that look, Izuku!"
Shinso burps and regains a moment of clarity. "Oi! What was I saying?" My heart pounds and my head snaps back at him as his head droops toward me. "Oh, right! Bakugo, did you know that you're the reason Midoriya and I broke up? Yup!" He laughs, eyelids half-open.
Ah. There it is.
"Shinso, stop! You're being messy."
"No, I'm not!" A lazy, childlike smile spreads across Shinso's face. "You refused to fully open up to me because you were so obsessed with your beloved Kacchan!" His Izuku impression was uncanny. It reminded me of how well Bliss did his voice as well. I turn to Izuku, my eyes wild with vindication...and a little expectation, too. "Remember? You even admitted he was the reason why you and Shoto couldn't be as close as he wanted you to be."
Izuku's face blushes with anger. "Wow, you are just a chatterbox when you're under the influence, aren't you?" He's flustered trying to remove Shinso from the bar and failing. "Okay, easy does it." I'm going to take advantage of that.
"See? I knew you were lying," I snake around him to whisper. I flick my tongue in Izuku's ear and he twitches but doesn't push me away. In the darkness, under the timed strobe lights with all this heat surrounding us and building up like a funnel within me, it feels like it's just the two of us in the world again. Izuku's head slowly rotates, the warmth of his breath inching toward my face as if to correct me. Or to kiss me. "I've changed, Izuku." My pledge is breathy over his lips. "Let me show you." I study his expression.
His eyes dart past me. He glances my way. "Have you?" Then peers beyond me, waving.
I glance over my shoulder following his gaze. "Ugh, great," I complain under my breath. Izuku shoots me a quick glare.
"What's all this then?" Shoto's ire freezes the room behind me.
So, he wasn't looking at me...for me?
While propping Shinso to his feet with ice and feeding him a glass of water with his other hand, Shoto keeps talking. "A battle of the exes, is it?" Blue and red laser lights cross over his blank expression pointing at me. His scar appears to be smoldering beneath the flesh. Keeping a watchful eye on me, he draws Izuku by the waist to his side like a ragdoll. Once he successfully creates distance between us, Shoto makes a ceremony of kissing him in front of me. Izuku's body goes rigid at first but melts into his embrace in the next breath. The Sero slinks behind them to the bar, scowling at me. They all annoy the fuck out of me.
"How childish," I crack. Guy appears out of thin air and it's the closest thing to a miracle I could imagine.
"Hey, Hyung!" A pair of solid arms wrap around my waist, his hands cupping my crotch. He cocks my head to the side with his chin and trails my damp vagus nerve with his thick tongue. His mouth is hot. He's hot. Izuku steadily watches as Guy hangs all over me. "I know you're his pet, but you don't need to protect him like a dog, Icy Hot. It's not like he's the number-one hero or anything," I say sarcastically. I grab Guy by the waist, mimicking how Shoto did to Izuku—See? I can do it, too—so that he can lead us to our fuck session and away from these buzzkills.
Guy backs away and innocently looks around at us. The tension with squeezed to its brink before he showed up. I almost thought he didn't notice it.
"These your friends, Hyung?"
"Have you?" Izuku says. His delayed question makes the hair on my neck stand on end. Shame lowers my head, nearly imperceptibly. But I know he noticed. Guy and I walk past Shinso as he hiccups a word of gratitude before downing in one gulp the second glass of water I passed him.
Then, he passed out on a pair of Mineta's balls.
("You're welcome!" Mineta shouts from the void.)
.
Guy guides me through the damp and unlit maze on the ground floor toward the staff lounge. "What's your name, again?" He calls out, never looks back. I slam him against the wall and kiss him passionately. Hoping to capture a longing feeling...a fleeting memory. Kissing Guy is hot as fuck. He's a chaser, a challenger, and confident. But he's merely a placeholder for the one I want. Still, the lascivious rumble in my groin tells me I'm going to enjoy our brief time together.
"Dynamight," I gruff in his mouth.
"Well, then. Come on, Dynamight," he breathes into my mouth. A smooth gust of air fills my lungs. "We're almost there. And hopefully, we're first."
I nibble on his ear and neck. "I'm down for an orgy, too."
Guy chuckles and presses the tip of his tongue against mine before lapping it up with his full lips. "Slow down, hero." He slides a hand down my chest, unbuttoning my pants; the other squeezes my ass. "This ride is for one." His hand grips my member. His mouth devours mine and the faint smoky taste of terpenes filters through. We're both on cloud nine.
I lean back, panting, "How'd you know I was a pro?" Guy pulls an amused face. "Is it that obvious?"
"It is to me," he says with a wink, licking his fingers before pulling me along. A tingling sensation flows through me like a river. I've been villainized by public opinion so much and for so long that I completely forgot how good it feels to be clocked as a hero. I let his acknowledgment sink and settle into my bones as we walked deeper down the dark hall.
.
The staff lounge was dim enough to maneuver through but shady enough to avoid looking into each other's eyes while fucking. I didn't need to form a soul connection with a random wannabe model, let alone remember his face. Though I might never forget the look he gave me as he licked up my cum. He saw something different in me. I could feel it.
"So, what's your hero name, Guy?" I ask between ragged breaths.
"I don't have one, but my surname is Hoover, so I guess it would be that."
"You never thought to give yourself a hero name as a kid?" I remember how long it took me to settle on my own.
He giggles while giving me a blowjob. "Hell no! My Quirk is picking up trash. I'm not delusional. I'm saving people's lives with that meta ability. There's nothing heroic about seeing an empty bag of crisps on the ground and instinctively sucking it up." His left arm transforms into a high-torque cleaner head and extender. He sits up and vacuums a tiny scrap of paper in the corner of the room. It leaves the entire area sparkling clean— no, pristine. It left not a speck of dust in sight. The corner of the break room looked never touched.
"Whoa." It's all that I could manage.
"I don't even know where the trash goes once I suck it up, but I attract trash...or maybe trash always finds me. Either way, I clean up messes and I'm good at it. That's why I enjoy working on this ship-to-nowhere club bullshit. I'm an aspiring hand model who used to be a star rugby player, but this pays the bills...for now. I'm good at it. So, I get to meet and fuck new people who get to forget I exist in the morning. There's always trash because there's always drunk and high girls and gays littering everywhere, and the pay is pretty decent. It's a no-frills life for someone without a flashy Quirk, but not Quirkless," he decides. "In this job, I see people at their most delighted and most destructive times in life. You'd be surprised by the amount of drama and demons being this attractive while doing this job draws out of folks. Some wanna save me, others enslave me. But in my opinion, people are both good and bad. There are no heroes and villains in my world. Just real people trying to make the best decisions for their impossible lives."
"Heroes and villains are cut from the same cloth." Best Jeanist said so long ago. "But it's our choices that display the quality of material a person's heart is made of." I almost forgot.
His pathetic spiel makes me feel shitty. It makes me think of that fucking nerd I'm in love with who always sees through to the heart of people's actions and intentions. It makes me think of all the fuckass, socially constructed divisions superhuman society continues to struggle with, even after winning an impossible war of clashing meta powers. I cup his chin and gaze upon his dark eyes at my waist. "You leave places better than it was when you found them. That's heroic enough," I whisper. He says nothing in return, only pecks the firm flesh beneath my belly button.
I clutch tufts of his bowl-cut hair in my fists as he begins again. "What's your real name, Guy?"
He purses his lips at my question, and a streak of shock flashes through his face with my dick in his mouth. My face falls at the stunning view, but I wrinkle my brows amused. "You didn't expect me to believe a tall, strong-built Korean man in leather is named Guy Hoover, did you? I lived in the States for years. I know about the famous vacuum company."
His booming laughter liquifies my stony heart. "Dooshik," he says light as a charm. "Dooshik Kang."
"So, Dooshik Kang, how are you so good at clocking people, but don't see a villain when you look at me?"
He takes a measured, unblinking gaze into my eyes. His regard is unflinching but sympathetic. "Your soul is filthy, Hyung. A lot of bloodstains and grime there." His attention shines a light into a deep, dark corner of my ego. I'd tried to bury it countless times before. "But even dirty floors can be cleaned. And yours sparkle like a hero's trophy case." My knees buckle. I'm so relieved, my legs feel weightless. He catches me by the back of my thighs. "Now, are you going to keep asking me intrusive life questions with my dick in your mouth, or can I get back to doing a good job?"
I look down at Dooshik's normal hands and think about his Quirk and smirk.
"Fuck that," I suggestively change the topic. "Is trash the only thing your Quirk is good at sucking up?"