The apartment was quiet when he entered. Naomasa had texted him when he left work, so Toshinori knew he should be home by now. Sure enough, there was a pair of shoes by the door, and his coat was hanging up on the rack when Toshinori made his way down the hall. The familiarity eased his nerves, though there was a restless buzzing in the back of his head that had been there since the villain encounter.
It had been a long time since he was this rattled after a fight. The villain had had a particularly strong psychic quirk, able to induce visual and auditory hallucinations, and he wielded it alongside practical weapons. Toshinori had blown past his smoke bombs and his throwing knives, but it was an illusion that had taken him by surprise. Toshinori knew it wasn’t real, but the fact did nothing to erase what he had seen.
He had excused himself shortly afterwards, finishing his patrol and calling it a night. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit, so quickly had he left - and now he was here, standing in the doorway of their bedroom. Naomasa had left a lamp on for him, and its muted glow cast long shadows across the floor. He approached the bed slowly, anxiety spiking when he didn’t see his lover right away, but then he came closer and there he was, tucked against a pillow.
Naomasa slept on his side, fingers curled loosely next to his head. The planes of his face were smooth and untroubled. Toshinori felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, though his guard remained up. While he knew he had closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help checking again. A secondary glance around the room confirmed all the entryways were locked and secure, and everything seemed to be in its proper place. He turned back to the sleeping detective.
He itched to hold him, to hear his voice, but Toshinori hesitated. He was still a little on edge. He shouldn’t disturb Naomasa when he was like this. The hero padded around to his side of the bed and stood there for a moment, letting the sound of his quiet breathing lull him into a calmer state.
Naomasa looked so peaceful. He could slide into bed next to him and go to sleep for the night. But he should probably change out of his suit first, and get ready for bed, and suddenly it seemed like there were a million things keeping him from what he wanted and Toshinori couldn’t stand it any longer.
He crawled under the covers, spooning up behind him, and wound his arms around the man, drawing him close to his chest. Warmth enveloped him instantly, leeching the chill from his bones. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now. He buried his face into Naomasa’s hair and breathed in deeply. He smelled clean - he must have showered when he got home.
Naomasa shifted slightly. “Mm…”
Toshinori kissed the shell of his ear with overwhelming fondness, stroking a hand up and down his chest and stomach. He pressed his lips lower, behind his jaw, and kissed him there too, reassured by the steady pulse he found.
Naomasa stirred, his movements drowsy, and a slow shiver traveled up the length of his body at the hero’s heavy petting. Toshinori only felt the slightest twinge of guilt when he began waking up.
“Oh,” he murmured thickly. “Hello.” His voice was low and husky from sleep. Naomasa settled back even further, a solid weight against him. Toshinori half-hoped he would fall asleep again, but he was only collecting his thoughts. He briefly raised his head to glance at the clock on their nightstand.
“You’re home early.”
“Save the world?”
Toshinori cracked a smile at that. “Sure.”
Naomasa absently reached for his hand and made a faint noise of disapproval when he felt how cold he was. He pressed their palms together, kneading his fingers to try and warm them, and the small gesture was enough for Toshinori to feel choked up. What would he do if he ever lost this? He hunched in, curling protectively around his lover’s body, and pushed his face into the junction of his neck and shoulder.
“Hey…” Naomasa’s tone changed. “You alright?”
He twisted, turning around in Toshinori’s arms to look at his face. He blinked. Toshinori could almost see his mind working, cataloguing his haggard face, his dusty hero suit. The way he held him a little too tight.
There was a beat of silence before Naomasa reached up and threaded his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. Toshinori leaned into the touch gratefully, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Long day, huh.” Naomasa’s voice was soft.
Toshinori sighed. “Something like that.”
He let himself be comforted by the slow caresses, sinking further into his pillow. Naomasa waited patiently, a steady presence by his side. Toshinori took a deep breath before speaking.
“I was… patrolling Musutafu,” he began haltingly. “One of the villains I apprehended today… He had a psychic quirk. He could make people see things that weren’t there. I subdued him, but… before that, he...” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I saw something that I thought - might have been real.”
“What was it?” Naomasa asked.
It was a distraction that nearly worked. The illusions had been big and flashy - fairly easy to ignore once he caught on - so he was thrown when they came to life with horrifying subtlety. One second he was sprinting after the villain, and the next, he was rounding the corner and stumbling upon Naomasa, lying crumpled in the middle of the street.
“You were…” Dying, he thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “You were hurt,” he said at last. “And I didn’t get there in time.”
He was wearing the clothes he put on that morning, when he kissed him goodbye before heading to work. But now there was a dark patch of red seeping through the center of his shirt, where the villain had plunged one of his daggers, and every breath was a labored, sticky gasp.
“There was blood…”
Toshinori tried to tear his gaze away, keeping his target in sight, but then the detective looked at him, expression full of pain and fear, and coughed, “Fuck. Toshi… I’m sorry.” Not “Save me,” or “Get help.” But “I’m sorry.” It was so like Naomasa that an incomprehensible terror rose in his chest, piercing the rational part of his mind with doubt. This isn’t real, he thought, but what if? What if?
“I knew it wasn’t really you, at least at first, but you looked so scared…” The words wavered in his throat. “You spoke to me, and it was your voice, and - I started to think… What if you - what if he - ”
Toshinori had unconsciously relaxed under the man’s gentle touch, but now he tensed up all over again.
Naomasa watched him, his eyes quiet and dark.
“Hey… it’s okay,” he murmured, cupping his face between his hands. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. I’m here. I’m safe. No one’s gonna hurt me.”
Toshinori let his breathing slow, focusing on the feeling of Naomasa’s body in his arms until he could detach himself from the day’s earlier events. The villain’s actions had been deliberate - lowering his guard with cheap illusions before crafting the template of a fear that was close to him. That was one of the intricacies of the quirk. It could have been anyone lying there, bleeding out, but his mind had simply projected the person he loved most. It was a last-ditch attempt to shake him. Not a threat. Not reality.
Gradually, his agitation faded, and he settled with his hands clasped around Naomasa’s waist, their foreheads touching in the stillness of the room.
“I wouldn’t have known what to do,” he confessed, hushed. “If that had been real, I… I don’t know what I would have done.”
Naomasa stroked his cheek. “I know. I know. It’s okay.”
Toshinori huddled even closer, craving the contact. They bumped noses. He could see Naomasa’s downswept lashes, the soft shape of his mouth. It felt only natural to lean in, and at the first brush of their lips, Toshinori made a wounded sort of sound.
He’s here. He’s safe.
Naomasa murmured assurances to him, low and soothing. He tilted his head, bringing their mouths together for a gentle kiss, and Toshinori finally felt like he had come home.
The horrors of the day melted away, replaced by a relief that sank bone-deep. The villain was behind bars. Nobody had gotten hurt. All that mattered now was the man in his arms. He slumped into their embrace, overcome with gratitude. His kisses grew longer, deeper, tinged with purpose, and Naomasa let him take the lead, breath hitching when Toshinori rolled over and pressed his hips down, keeping him pinned to the bed with ease.
He had been high-strung after the fight, and now his nerves were engulfed by restless longing. Toshinori felt his pulse quicken at the sensation of a sleep-mussed Naomasa beneath him, warm and pliant and ever so responsive. A low heat coiled in his stomach. Naomasa had let his legs fall open and Toshinori slotted himself between them, rocking against his groin.
The detective lifted his hips with a small noise, and when he pulled back to look at him, his pupils were dilated.
“Naomasa,” he whispered shakily. “Can we…?”
“Yeah,” Naomasa said, a little breathless. “Yeah, of course.”
Toshinori slid a hand under the thin fabric of his sleep shirt, chasing goosebumps up his chest. Naomasa shivered, arching into the touch, but when he reached for the zipper on his suit, Toshinori grabbed his wrist, shaking his head slightly.
“Just wanna feel you,” he husked. “Is that okay?”
Naomasa nodded, without question, and the easy way he surrendered had a surge of emotion rising in his chest.
He stripped him freely, letting his clothes fall to the floor, and then leaned back on his knees to look at him. A light flush rose to Naomasa’s cheeks at the attention, but he kept still as the hero ran a large hand over his body. Toshinori bent his head, memorizing every inch of unbroken skin, and dotted a trail of kisses down his stomach, discreetly checking for injuries. When he met his gaze, Naomasa’s eyes were soft and understanding.
He had always been terribly intuitive.
Toshinori swallowed the lump in his throat and stroked his side, turning his attention towards the task at hand.
There was something heady about being fully clothed while his lover lay naked beneath him. The dark thrill of it, like Naomasa was offering himself, trusting Toshinori to hold all the power. Every time he caught a glimpse of his costume against Naomasa’s bare skin, he felt a spike of heat.
He stood up to grab the lube from their nightstand, then pulled Naomasa’s hips to the edge of the bed and sank to his knees.
Toshinori nudged his legs apart. Wasting no time, he leaned forward and licked a hot, wet stripe between Naomasa’s cheeks. The detective jerked, but Toshinori had his thighs spread obscenely wide, held in place with the slightest bit of pressure.
“Fuck,” Naomasa gasped.
Toshinori lapped and sucked hungrily at his hole, letting his teeth scrape lightly along the rim. The carpet was thin, and his knees started to creak in protest from being on the floor. He hardly felt it. His focus was on Naomasa, the addicting taste of him. An unbearable warmth pooled in his gut at the wet, sloppy sounds he was making, but he didn’t stop until Naomasa’s hole was butter soft, clenching helplessly around his tongue.
“Toshi - christ - ” Naomasa scrabbled for purchase on the sheets, body shaking under his mouth. Toshinori’s erection was straining painfully against his cup, and he spared a moment to undo his fly, tossing the cup aside and yanking down his underwear with one hand. His cock sprung free in relief. It was fully erect now, standing lewdly against the vivid colors of his All Might suit as he licked his partner open.
“Toshinori…” A note of pleading entered Naomasa’s voice.
“Getting there,” he murmured, and coated his fingers with lube, warming it up before sliding his middle finger in, snug, up to the knuckle. Naomasa had his arms crossed over his face, and his breath stuttered as the hero began fucking him slowly with his finger. It wasn’t long before he added a second, scissoring gently as he mouthed at his balls, and then a third. He drank in the sight of the man stretched out in front of him, arousal climbing with each of his muffled cries.
At long last, he withdrew his fingers, and spread Naomasa’s cheeks to admire his handiwork. His hole was pink and puffy, glistening with slick. A jolt of anticipation seared through him as he stood and pushed his knees up.
Naomasa's eyes were hooded. “Yeah.”
He worked a quick hand over his cock, smearing it with lube, and guided it forward.
There was always a moment where Toshinori questioned whether or not he would really fit. Naomasa never felt smaller than he did then, legs splayed as Toshinori leaned over him, pushing past that tight ring of muscle. He eased in, reaching the thickest swell of his cock, and watched with rapt attention as his hole stretched taut around it. Naomasa made a soft, sweet sound as he slid in and in and in, until there was nowhere else to go and he bottomed out, enveloped by delicious heat. He pressed a thumb to where they were connected and the detective twitched, shuddering.
No matter how much time they spent on foreplay, Toshinori was so big that Naomasa always felt it the next day. As contrite as the hero would be, there was a part of him that secretly twisted with pleasure at the fact, and now it was rearing its ugly head, filling him with shameful thoughts. It would be so easy to let his strength bleed into their sex. To push a little harder, handle him a little rougher. Wouldn’t that be satisfying? For Naomasa to feel the ache between his thighs and remember that Toshinori had been there?
The idea was too much - Toshinori’s hips jerked, fucking into Naomasa with a reckless motion. The detective loosed a startled moan, and Toshinori almost thought there was no way he could stop. He was too keyed up for slow.
“Sorry,” he gasped, but Naomasa didn’t seem to hear it.
There was an intensity building in his core, leaving him unbalanced and wild. He had to brace himself and start again, even as the feeling blazed, like he was holding a match and letting it burn to his fingers.
Naomasa panted, trying to move his hips, but Toshinori had him in a firm grasp, and his head fell back on the bed with a half-hearted whine. The movement bared his throat, and as the hero thrust into him again, the line of his body pushed back in a beautiful arch. Toshinori was struck by a white-hot flash of urgency - but then he ghosted his fingers along Naomasa’s ribs, feeling every delicate bone, and he was distressingly breakable in his hands. He loosened his hold.
“Don’t,” Naomasa said suddenly, and Toshinori felt like he had been doused in ice water. Before he could stop and ask what was wrong, Naomasa sat up, burying his face into his neck.
“You’re holding back,” he murmured softly. “Don’t.”
When the initial shock subsided, Toshinori clutched his hips, heart pounding. “I can’t - I could hurt you.”
“I’m not gonna break,” he said. “Take me how you want me, Toshi.”
He tightened his grip. “I don’t think you know how I want you.”
Naomasa tilted his head, and a glimmer of challenge surfaced in his eyes. “Then show me.”
Toshinori pushed him down with a filthy kiss, biting at his bottom lip with a desperate sound. The texture of his hero suit was rough, and he could feel it scrape across Naomasa’s skin, leaving tender spots where it rubbed against him. Naomasa hissed into his mouth at the sensation. Spurred on, Toshinori reached down to grab a handful of his ass, muscles bunching as he fucked into him with swift, decisive strokes. Naomasa keened and writhed, utterly at his mercy, and Toshinori broke off to curl a hand around the back of his neck, holding him still.
“Is this okay?” he asked, breathing heavy. “You have to tell me, Nao, you have to say it - ”
“Yes,” Naomasa groaned, “yes - ” and then Toshinori was climbing onto the bed, positioning Naomasa so his hips were firmly seated in his lap. He loomed over him on all fours, gazing down at the smaller man with his brow furrowed.
“Tell me if I’m - if it’s too much - ”
Naomasa yanked him down for a harsh kiss, and when they parted, his lips were red and ruined. “I will,” he said. And then he nuzzled into the side of his cheek, lowering his voice.
“Come on, big guy. Fuck me like you mean it.”
He snarled and thrust into his body with one abrupt movement, shoving him up the bed with the force of it. Naomasa answered by digging his fingernails into the exposed skin at Toshinori’s neck, and every shred of his self control seemed to burn away. He fell into a mindless rhythm, consumed by violent, howling desire. He wanted to hold him tighter, fuck him harder, take him apart until he couldn’t remember his name.
He had never really used his strength like this before, always so careful in bed. He could never forgive himself if he hurt Naomasa, and it was why most days he preferred to be held. He loved it, loved the freedom it gave him - but seeing his partner come undone, leaving him a wreck, and knowing he wanted it just as much as Toshinori did... It was a different kind of pleasure entirely, and tonight he needed it with a fierceness that ached. He curled over him, huge, biting hard at his shoulder, his neck. A wave of possessiveness surged in his chest at the marks he left behind - each one a reminder that this was real.
He ran his tongue across the detective’s nipple, sucking bruises into his skin, and Naomasa bucked underneath him, cursing and pleading all at once.
“Let me - ” Toshinori growled, and reared up. He grabbed his wrists and pushed them over his head, pinning Naomasa flat against the mattress.
Naomasa moaned, rendered helpless with the way his body was stretched out, only able to squeeze his thighs around Toshinori’s hips and endure his punishing thrusts. His cock bobbed between them, untouched, and Toshinori didn't hear a single complaint.
It was sinfully arousing, the way he just let him take.
He raked his gaze over the stark line of his collarbones, the frantic bob of his throat. Naomasa’s complexion had always been fair, a sharp contrast to his dark hair and dark eyes, and Toshinori felt a savage delight at knowing the remnants of their time together would linger long after they were done. He ducked his head into the crook of his neck, mumbling broken praises that made Naomasa flush and squirm.
Every sensation zeroed down to their points of contact - the tight, wet clench of his hole, the slender line of his waist, and his wrists, so small in his hand. Toshinori pressed his free palm to the flat of his stomach and imagined he could feel his own cock, sliding in and out of Naomasa’s body. He sped up, plunging his whole length into him again and again, like he could go deeper if he just fucked him hard enough. His mind was spinning, lost to pleasure, and Naomasa’s insides were silky hot, swallowing him up perfectly.
When he reached down to squeeze the detective’s flushed, weeping cock, he arched up with a shocked cry.
“Oh god,” he choked, “please, please…” Toshinori groaned at the sight of Naomasa unraveling so beautifully, no longer able to keep his voice down.
He dragged a rough hand over his cock once, twice, and Naomasa came with a hoarse sob, body going rigid as the hero continued his relentless pace. He tightened up around him and Toshinori rode it out until he went limp. It was euphoric, feeling the man melt into his hands, every inch of him radiating wanton submission. Before he could even think about slowing down, Naomasa pushed back weakly to meet his thrusts, loose-limbed and glassy-eyed.
“C’mon,” he slurred, “keep goin’, Toshi, I can take it. I want it. Want you.”
“God,” Toshinori choked, and released his wrists in favor of putting both hands around his waist. Naomasa trembled with every slam of their hips, but he wound his arms around his neck, breath hot and heavy in his ear, and hung on. He fed him senseless whispers, mouthing at his jaw until Toshinori twisted his head and brought their lips together.
Naomasa pressed up against him with a needy sound, and that, of all things, was what tipped him over the edge. Even shaking and oversensitive, Naomasa still wanted him, wanted everything. Toshinori broke off with a guttural moan and buried his face into his hair as he came. His hips slowed to lazy thrusts, milking every spurt until he was empty and Naomasa was full.
For a moment, it all blurred together - the shift of the mattress under his knees, the wet suction on his softening cock. Satisfaction draped across him like a weighted blanket. It seemed like an eternity had passed before he mustered up the energy to move. Naomasa twitched as the hero slipped out, and Toshinori’s face felt hot when he saw a line of cum trickle out of his hole, relaxed and loose where his cock had been. He rolled onto his side, kissing the top of Naomasa’s head. They lay there, heartbeats slowing, fingers intertwined. Toshinori felt warm all over, and his muscles thrummed with a good kind of exhaustion.
As his senses returned, he became increasingly aware of his skintight suit. His hero costume was well ventilated, but now it was sticking in uncomfortable places, and he sat up to peel it off. The air was blessedly cool on his skin. When he turned, Naomasa had wiped down the mess on his stomach with his abandoned shirt. It was hardly comparable to a damp towel, but he seemed unbothered, climbing into Toshinori’s arms and nuzzling clumsily into the hollow of his throat.
Toshinori pulled a blanket around their waists before pausing. One look, and he could tell Naomasa was ready to fall asleep again. He gave him a nudge.
“We need to get you cleaned up. And strip these sheets.”
The detective made an unhappy noise when Toshinori started to sit up, looping an arm around his neck in an effort to get him to stay.
“It can wait,” he mumbled. Then he tipped his head back to look at him. “How are you feeling?”
Toshinori replied with a fond kiss. “Better,” he promised.
Naomasa hummed. “Good.”
Toshinori watched him drift off, propping his head up on an elbow. It looked like Naomasa had no intention of moving, and Toshinori knew he was going to make a fuss in the morning if he discovered the hero had let him go to bed in this state. Lucky for him, Naomasa’s grumpy scowl was more endearing than it was anything else.
He studied his face. He must have been asleep for an hour or so before Toshinori had woken him up. It was rare to get home at the same time these days, and neither liked to interrupt the other’s much needed rest, but Naomasa had been quick to give him all his attention. He must have been tired, Toshinori thought. And yet he had let Toshinori take what he needed. Affection rose in his chest, far outweighing the remorse. He’d have to make it up to him, somehow.
He emerged from his thoughts when he noticed Naomasa had gone rather quiet. He peered down at him.
His eyes fluttered open, drowsy, but focused. “Mm?”
“You with me?”
Naomasa blinked, and then the corner of his lips curled up into a slow, easy smile.
“Always,” he murmured, and Toshinori felt his heart ache at the tenderness of it.
He leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his forehead before shifting into a more comfortable position, turning onto his back so Naomasa could nestle into the curve of his arm. Their hands moved, finding each other under the blanket.
The night outside their window was dark and silent, as if they were the only two people in the world.