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Sex Sent Me to the ER

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It has been two weeks, three days, four hours, eleven minutes, and sixteen... no, seventeen seconds since Aizawa's doctor had cleared him to return to regular, non-strenuous activity. As Toshinori, perpetual worry wart and all around spoil sport, was kind enough to remind him, 'non-strenuous' means no sex . Zero. Nada. Zilch. Not even a fucking blowjob 

How is this his life?

He's tried, on several occasions, to sway Toshinori to the dark side. Unfortunately, his boyfriend is a fucking boy scout , who is more afraid of incurring the wrath of Recovery Girl than he is of enduring what could very well amount to several more weeks of forced-celibacy, if Shouta's track-record for keeping himself injury-free for more than a few weeks at the time is anything to go off of. He's tried to explain that swelling is a natural phenomenon that occurs with even the most minor of injuries, and that it's not his fault that the knock-off, dollar store Frankenstein's monster had snapped his pelvis like a rubber band. So yes, his pelvic region is just a tad swollen and yes, the bones are bruised, but damn it all, he's fine . The doctor wouldn't have taken off the bandages if he wasn't. Why is that such a difficult concept for Toshinori to wrap his head around?

Although... he's beginning to think that Toshinori understands the limitations of his post-injury body full-well, and is living it up in his new role as the world's most infuriatingly adorable tease . He takes total advantage of the fact that Shouta's touch-starved body is hungering for any level of attention Toshinori is willing to offer it, and there have been a number of occasions where he's been able to cum on nothing more than the feel of his hands working sweetly scented oil into his aching muscles after he finishes a round of his physical therapy exercises. More often than not, his hands (and mouth) stay above the belt and as nice as it is to experience some kind of relief on a semi-regular basis, it's nowhere near enough. He wants—no, scratch that, he needs —to fuck. And he has a plan. Well, technically, he has several plans. It never hurts to be prepared, after all.

Especially when dealing with an adorably obstinate motherfucker like Yagi Toshinori. He means that in the most loving way possible, of course. 

Plan A: Missionary. How could anything possibly go wrong in the most vanilla of sex positions known to man?

Toshinori is a fucking vision , staring up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his kiss-swollen lips parted just so as he inhales shakily and a pretty, crimson flush trailing from his high, gaunt cheekbones all the way down his chest... his lean legs are parted, his channel, slick with lube, gaping ever so slightly from the prep that Shouta had so lovingly administered. It'd been quite awhile , and he knew that Toshinori, if left to his own devices, wasn't apt to make use of any of their toys, so he'd taken great care to ensure that Toshinori would feel the least amount of pain that was physically possible. 

His cock is pressed taut against his entrance, that beautiful, all-encompassing heat so damn close it makes his head spin. He's just one thrust away from mission accomplished. It's been so damn long, he hopes that he doesn't shoot off early. And just as that horrid thought crosses his mind, he cants his hips forward and hears a loud, sickening snap . Dark eyes blow wide as he collapses to the floor, his hip no longer able to support his weight. Toshinori scurries off the side of the bed, rushing to his side just in time to catch Shouta flop onto his back with a long, drawn-out moan. He'll definitely be feeling that in the morning.

"Shit! Shou? Shouta? Are you okay?" The fact that Shouta is still hard as a rock, despite the tremendous amount of pain that is currently wracking his body, is a testament to the severity of his case of blue balls. 

"I'm fine. I'm f-fine." He offers the other man a shaky thumbs-up. "But I was thinking, you know what would be a fabulous idea? If you were to come over here and ride me." Toshinori looks horribly unconvinced, his erection slowly wilting as he eyes his fallen lover. "I can totally stand up, but... at this point, it'll just save time and energy to stay down here."

Toshinori lifts him up, careful to avoid putting pressure on any parts of his back which may have started to bruise. "I think that we ought to quit while we're ahead. I'll suck you off, if you really want, but that's all."

"You don't have to carry me like some fucking damsel. I can walk." He totally can't walk and both of them know it. "How about this? I still get to fuck you—," Toshinori looks like he's about to protest, but Shouta steamrolls right over whatever he was about to say with, "so long as I promise not to actually move . And if you don't trust me, you could always tie me down. " He wags his eyebrows suggestively.

"You're still recovering from a serious injury, Shouta-kun..." his eye twitches, "Besides, you're being rather hypocritical, don't you think? After all, anytime that I'm injured it's always 'you can't push yourself so hard , Toshi, you need to appreciate the fact that your body needs time to heal' and 'you're nothing more than a liability to others if you don't allow yourself to be selfish every once in awhile and put your own needs first'."

Shouta sighs, "Toshi, the doctor wouldn't have taken the bandages off if—,"

"The doctor took the bandages off after specifically instructing you to avoid strenuous activity! And look what happened when you tried to perform a strenuous activity! You probably threw out your back—,"

"You could always sit on my face." Shouta offers with a shrug.

Toshinori bangs his head against the wall, "You're really not understanding, are you?"

Plan B: Dinner and a Movie. Because nothing puts you in the mood like watching someone else get into the mood.

This time, Shouta plans ahead. They're on the floor in the living room, ensuring that there is absolutely nowhere for Shouta to fall, should his body attempt to betray him a second time. And, as an added precaution, the lower half of his body is cocooned in his camping grade sleeping bag. Toshinori is wholeheartedly engrossed in the film, a pretty pink blush dusting across his cheeks as the main character starts to get a bit handsy with his girlfriend in the backseat of his convertible. He's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, shifting a bit to try and adjust the growing bulge in the front of his trousers. Excellent .

Shouta leans over, trailing feather-light kisses along Toshinori's bare flesh, until he reaches the older man's neck. Lightly chapped lips latch onto the sensitive skin and begin to suckle lightly, drawing blood to the surface to create a wonderfully dark bruise. It doesn't take much to coax the older man into his lap, and he can barely feel his weight with the thick padding of the sleeping bag between them. But oh, he can feel the heat radiating off of the other man's body, and fuck if it doesn't make Shouta's heart start to race in anticipation of what's to come. The blond settles comfortably across his lap, intent to kiss him... and something cracks .

He's confident that he's never seen Toshinori move so fast in his life. The blond is off of him in a heartbeat, eyes roaming over his fragile body, checking for new damage. Shouta offers a wobbly smile, "J-Just dislocated my shoulder a little bit. It's nothing major. I only need one arm, anyhow."

Tears begin to brew in the corners of Toshinori's bright blue eyes, "H-How?!"

"Well... y-you moved at a really odd angle and it just sort of... well, popped ." Toshinori looks positively devastated at the prospect of having hurt his lover, so Shouta hurriedly amends, "On the bright side, y-you can just pop it right back in, no sweat! Or, even better... if you want to prep yourself, I don't really need my arms anyway!"

Toshinori proposes, and chooses, Option C: Face the Wrath of Recovery Girl.

Plan C: Face-Sitting. Otherwise known as, The Reason We Don't Let Toshinori Have Ideas. 

Following the shoulder fiasco, Toshinori had instituted a strict no-touching policy. It had taken him all of 48 hours to realize that that would not work. At all. 

So Toshinori proposes that they try Plan C: Face-Sitting. Except, instead of Toshinori sitting on Shouta's face, Shouta would be sitting on Toshinori's. It's not that Shouta has anything against the plan. Really. It shows that Toshinori is at least attempting to meet him halfway. But it flies in the face of Operation: Give Toshinori a Proper Dicking, which, as far as Shouta is concerned, is an absolute travesty . Toshinori deserves the world handed to him on a silver fucking platter, and since Shouta has yet to find a way to shrink a planet down to platter-size, Toshinori will have to settle for as many orgasms as Shouta can fuck out of him.

So he decides that he'll play nice... at first. He lets Toshinori make him nice and comfortable (seriously, he didn't know that they had this many pillows in the apartment but they feel so soft and comfortable beneath his aching knees that he doesn't even care) and allows the blond to get a few tentative swipes along his rim before he decides that Toshinori needs a bit of... encouragement to get a little bit bolder. And so he begins a slow, lazy massage, working his hands in loose circles over Toshinori's chest and down his stomach, lips curling into a slight smirk as he feels the muscles flutter beneath his heavy touch...

Toshinori's tongue tentatively presses inside, smooth and hot and wet, and Shouta groans, rewarding him for his efforts with a tender caress along his half-hard shaft. He doesn't have the dexterity to jack him off properly, but damn if the idea of teasing him until Toshinori is so overcome with pleasure that he makes a wet, sloppy mess of his aching hole a tempting idea. Toshinori's massive hands are curled around his thighs, holding him firmly in place and keeping him from tipping forward and face-planting on the floor (and adding to their ever-growing list of sexual mishaps). 

Relying a bit on Toshinori's strength, he bends forward even further, sliding a hand between Toshinori's slightly parted legs and teasing his quivering rim with his middle finger. Its been weeks since their first mishap, which was the closest they'd come to having full, penetrative sex in the last couple of months , and just imagining how tight Toshinori is for him has him bucking back against that tongue, eyes flying open in surprise as the sharp movement causes it to slip all of the way inside of him. Toshinori slurps wetly, making a sound of confusion that shoots through Shouta's body like lightning and the erasure hero decides its high time to even the score.

Shouta gets his fingers nice and wet and decides to open Toshinori up with tantalizingly slow thrusts, while grazing his fingers along the length of Toshinori's cock... confident that he'll have the blond begging to be filled in no time. It takes almost no time at all to make his way up to three fingers, and he gingerly drags them over Toshinori's prostate, eager to feel the way his tight, hot channel clenches around his fingers as his orgasm plummets through him. A pleasant warmth rockets through him at the idea of Toshinori loose and ready to take Shouta's cock.

It doesn't take much for the blond's orgasm to rocket through him—he's so touch-starved that the minor prostate stimulation is all it takes. As he shivers and bucks and cries out, overwhelmed with lust and desire and so much love ...

He fucking drops Shouta.

"Holy shit—Shouta, I am so sorry! It looked like you hit your head..." sure enough, he's able to locate a sizeable bump forming on the side of Shouta's head. Shouta can practically see the wheels of self-loathing turning in the other man's eyes. "Shit, shit, shit... we need to take you to the hospital. Fucking hell, the one time that I drop you, you're already broken and you hit your head on the damn table."

"I was... literally seconds away from cumming. Please just... go back to eating me out? Five minutes is all I need, probably less." Toshinori rolls his eyes, grumbling something about Shouta and his 'one-track mind'.

"We're getting rid of that coffee table."

Shouta sighs, "Yes, dear."

Plan D: Blowjobs. Alright, so maybe they can't fuck. But damn it, he will choke on Toshinori's cock if it's the last thing he does. ( The Universe: "Is that a challenge?")

They do not, in fact, get rid of the coffee table before it attempts to enact its sweet revenge on poor Shouta.

Toshinori is fairly confident that his boyfriend is not a cat. But he does exhibit some decidedly feline qualities, such as purring when Toshinori cards his fingers through his hair, his short, blunt nails lightly scratching along his scalp. There is nothing overtly sexual about petting his boyfriend's hair, right? Nothing can possibly go wrong with a few simple head scritches, right ? Oh, how adorably naive...

Shouta's hands begin to wander across his chest, mapping out a familiar course over the beautifully pale, scarred flesh. His hands travel lower... lower... lower ... blue eyes blow wide as he feels thick, slightly slick fingers probing at his entrance, and before he has time to contemplate when in the hell Shouta had found and applied lube , two of those fingers are pressing inside of him. He barks out something that sounds like a cross between a howl and a moan, head flopping back against the couch cushions as Shouta's mouth closes around the fat, drooling head of his cock and sinks down to the root in one smooth stroke. 

Shouta doesn't give blowjobs often, and as such, Toshinori is unprepared for the burst of white-hot pleasure that overwhelms him as Shouta's teeth graze ever-so-gently against the thick vein that protrudes along the underside of his cock. He bucks sharply , kicking and flipping the coffee table. Shouta draws back with a wet pop , narrowly managing to maneuver both of their bodies out of the way before the whole thing, complete with Shouta's half-full mug of coffee and laptop, comes crashing down. 

Well... at least no-one got hurt this time, right?

Plan E: Dry-Humping. When all else fails... show him what he's been missing. 

Okay, so there were literally hundreds of options that would be more comfortable (and much better suited) to a good ol' fashioned humping session than the arm of the couch. But fuck it all, Toshinori's sitting on the couch when he should be sitting on Shouta, and Shouta is just desperate enough to resort to drastic measures.

It doesn't take long for Toshinori, professional worrier that he is, to notice that Shouta's actions cause him to repeatedly drive his hips into the arm of the couch with considerable force. While this might work wonders for his dick, his hips are likely to be decidedly less appreciative. They'd both been formally dressed down by Recovery Girl earlier that week for their 'inability to keep it in their pants'... Toshinori had resigned himself to the fact that Shouta was a god-awful patient who would consistently defy doctor's orders in order to benefit his own needs, and had decided that, instead of trying to prevent the inevitable, he ought to switch gears and attempt to mitigate the damage. So when he sees Shouta rocking against the arm of the couch, his first instinct is to offer him something softer . His lap, for instance.

He inches a little closer, eyeing Shouta through his lashes and checking to see if the raven-haired hero has caught onto his movements yet. He seems to be in his own little world, rapidly chasing his own pleasure... Toshinori finally works up the courage to reach out and touch him. It's a gentle caress that has no more weight than a feather, but Shouta leaps up like he's been shot and almost falls clean off the side of the couch. Toshinori grabs him, pulling him down to settle in his lap. They stare at each other for a solid minute, making awkward levels of eye contact as they both wait for the other to make the first move.

Shouta gives a tentative roll of the hips, and the couch gives an ominous creak underneath them. They share a look, "Maybe we should move to the floor?"

Toshinori relocates them to the middle of the floor, where there is no furniture around for quite a ways, and takes the added precaution of laying cushions and pillows down on the ground to prop up Shouta's hips to keep the swelling down as much as possible. He's done some... research on the best sex positions to alleviate pelvic pressure during sex and well, the internet seemed to agree that it would be okay to ride him as long as he placed several pillows between their pelvises and didn't go completely crazy.They could also try spooning, a position that Toshi was rather fond of because of the inherent intimacy of it. Just as long as they limited the depth of penetration and the actual smacking of skin on skin, they should... should ... be okay.

"We will do this... just this one time ... and then you have to promise me you'll be good and abstain until you have a clean bill of health. I don't think I can handle another one of Chiyo's death glares."

"Mmm... just once is all I need sunflower." There's no time for foreplay. No when whatever the hell is about to go wrong this time is lurking just around the corner...

He rids Toshinori of his pants, and Toshinori presses a small bottle of lube in his hands that he'd rescued from the raven's utility belt. He drizzles it over his fingers, making a proper mess of himself, his clothes, and the cushions, but he doesn't care... he has a singular goal in mind, so when he reaches to plunge the first finger inside of Toshinori's tight hole and is immediately stopped, he blinks and frowns because he'd thought that they were finally on the same page. But then Toshinori admits with an adorable flush and a stammer that he'd been... having fun earlier and was already stretched out and ready so Shouta should just hurry up and fuck him already .

"So demanding for someone that jizzed in my eye two weeks ago." He says, slicking up his cock as Toshinori moves to straddle him, lining himself up and groaning softly as he stretches to accommodate Shouta's girth.

"Y-You literally always swallow! How was I supposed to know that would be the unlucky day you decided you wanted a facial?" He pouted.

Toshinori slowly reaches for Shouta's utility belt, "...D-Do you want your eyedrops, dear?"

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Toshinori can tell the other man is glaring, "No, I just thought that this could be my life now. I can totally go on patrol with my eyes sealed shut with dry cum yes I want the fucking eyedrops Toshi."

There are literally so many pillows around and on and under Shouta's body that it takes Toshinori a few minutes to get used to the... unusual sensation of fabric gliding along his skin instead of flesh. He rocks against the mounds of pillows, reminding himself that although it feels weird (actually, the pillows feel very nice gliding along his cock, and he now understands why Shouta was so keen on fucking the arm of the couch) it's for Shouta's benefit and if he's going to help the other man blatantly ignore the doctor's orders, they might as well try to make it as pleasurable as possible.

"Mmm... such a pretty darling... strung out on my cock." Shouta purred, lightly caressing the achingly sensitive flesh of Toshinori's dick. "Bet you wish it was deeper, huh? I can't even reach your prostate like this." He said, pouting.

Toshinori slowed down, rocking his hips in a slow, steady circle that had Shouta seeing stars, "B-But do you feel good?"

"F-Fuck darling, I always feel good buried inside of you." He said. Shouta was being so good , letting Toshinori thrust and rock and grind against him, taking his pleasure and doing his damndest not to move.

"T-That's what matters. This...This is what you w-wanted, right? W-What you've been missing so bad?" Toshinori's words begin to slur as Shouta's fingers graze over his leaking slit.

"Don't try and pretend like you didn't want it too." The raven chastised gently. "If you didn't miss my cock, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"

He's amazingly proud of the fact that he can curl his hand into a loose fist, tight enough to curl around Toshinori's length and jerk it lightly. Toshinori leans forward, breath stuttering, his hands sinking into the pillows on either side of Shouta's head. He's comforted by the presence of the pillows, their squishy mass absorbing most of the shock of his movements. He's certain that if Shouta were able to fuck him any deeper, he'd already have plummeted over the edge and this... this delightful torture of finally having what he'd so craved over the last several months of Shouta's recovery and just... hanging on the precipice of orgasm, relief so close and yet so far ...

Shouta crooks a finger in his direction, and he obligingly leans down, allowing the younger to claim his lips in a slow, lazy kiss. Shouta's arms slowly twine around his back, drawing him close and adjusting the angle of his pelvis so that his cock is now rutting into a sofa cushion with every thrust and the added friction, combined with the new angle, is absolutely sublime and he cums with a shuddering moan. A second later, he can feel Shouta spill inside of him, though the moan that the raven offers is decidedly less... enthusiastic . He draws back just far enough to look down on Shouta in concern, but every visible part of him seemed to be perfectly fine.

Shouta, meanwhile, is breathing deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He looks at Toshinori, "I-I'm trying to decide if it would be better for you to move... or to just stay put."

"...I'm going to stand up now."

Shouta winces , "Please... be careful."

Toshinori stares at him for a moment, before asking, "Are we going to be spending the night in the hospital?"

"It... probably wouldn't be a bad idea." Shouta's eyes blow wide, "Nope, nope I made up my mind you should probably stand up now ." Toshinori, panicked, stood up a bit too fast and Shouta actually howled .

" What the hell happened? "

"I'm gonna go ahead and make an educated guess and say you broke my dick , and I'm never walking again. You know what? Scratch that. I'm not moving from this spot, ever. Just throw a blanket over me and very carefully use me as another piece of furniture because oh my god it actually hurts to breathe ."

Toshinori is already moving, throwing on clothes and throwing a blanket in Shouta's general direction. "Put that on. I'm not even going to bother trying to dress you. How in the fuck do you even break a dick? " He takes a deep breath, "We are never having sex again. Ever."

"Agreed." Shouta whined, before carefully bundling himself up in the blanket and holding out his arms, "...Carry me?"