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Eijirou comes back to the 2-A dorms after a long day of internship. He’s done great today, helping rescue people from a fire. That’s like, classic hero work right out from those old times movies so he feels pretty awesome about it. He’s also been feeling a bit weird in the chest area since he changed out of his hero costume, like his school shirt is too tight and he’s about to pop a button (that’d be so manly though!) and his skin there is over-sensitive too, making him overly aware of the texture of his shirt. He hopes it’s not the first sign of quirk flu because he has other things to do than being sick.
Like his study not-date with Bakugou tonight. He really needs to get this math thing down before the test on Friday.
Thankfully whatever’s going on with with his chest doesn't seem serious enough to bother Recovery Girl so after grabbing a quick snack from a vending machine, Eijirou stops at his room only long enough to change into more comfortable clothes (his softest, most worn ‘Crimson Riot’ t-shirt, one of his few shirts that is still loose on him after bulking up a lot since the start of second year) and goes to knock at his neighbor’s, ready to get some knowledge beaten into him.
—
A few hours later, Eijirou is sitting on the floor of Bakugou’s room working on math problems, the bed at his back with Bakugou sprawled on it, his attention having moved on from maths and he’s now engrossed in the hero law textbook. Probably studying chapters they haven’t even touched on in class yet, he’s hard-working like that.
His chest has started to kind of really hurt in the last hour, like his pecs are just two big bruises and the smallest movement makes them ache. Makes it hard to concentrate on the problem in front of him. It definitely doesn’t feel like quirk flu, or a regular cold or anything like that. There’s no obvious cause in sight either; he didn’t get to really push himself physically today, it only got a little hot (hardening helping) in the burning building, nothing that required a lot of strength. Didn’t even have time to use the gym today!
Yet his pecs feel swollen.
Could it be a muscles growth spurt? Is that even a thing?
He hears a shuffle behind him as Bakugou pulls himself up on all four and looks over Eijirou's shoulder to check on his progress.
“Tch, you're still on that problem?” he sounds very much not impressed, “And the hell did you spill all over yourself? You better not be slobbing up my room or I'll kick you out.”
What?
“What no I don't even have any drink with me what are you talki- uh,” looking down at himself Eijirou notices a big wet spot on the left side of his shirt, right over the ‘Riot’. What the hell. He pulls at the collar and looks down into the opening and sees his nipple all shiny wet, with a bead of white liquid pearling at the tip before rolling down the curve of his chest out of sight. Holy shit that's. Milk. There’s milk coming out of his manly chest. He feels sudden warmth in his face and he straighten up, dropping his shirt collar and almost knocking his head on Bakugou’s, who had been trying to peek into Eijirou’s shirt. This is definitely not a normal situation. Should he have gone to Recovery Girl after all?
"What the hell is it?” Bakugou asks, “You got hurt or something? Reopened a wound?"
Easy mistake to make since his t-shirt is a dark red, so he starts to say "No it's not-" but has to stop himself because if he says it’s not blood, then he’d have to say what it actually is? And nope! Not going there with Bakugou!
"I'm fine! Just. Tired?" He cringe at his own words. Wow. Some fine lying there, Ei.
And of course Bakugou would call him out on such obvious bullshit. He gets off his bed and crouches in front of Eijirou, pushing aside the forgotten math problems. He's in inquisitive mode and Eijirou is so fucked. Quickly he crosses his arms in front of his chest and winces because the pressure sorta hurts and now that he's hyper aware of it he feels his right nipple starting to leak too. Fuck this is so weird and embarrassing he can never uncross his arms again while Bakugou is looking at him.
"Did you get hit by a weird quirk today?” He asks, “Didn't you get checked at the end of the day?"
"I told you earlier I didn't fight any villain today! It was just rescue!" But now he's thinking back to this small kid, a baby really, that he got out of the burning apartment complex, and who kept pawing at his chest like a kitten (it was super cute) and maybe he started feeling a tingle in his chest then? Some kids develop their quirk really early… Hard to tell if he got hit by a baby quirk when he was so distracted with the end of the rescue operation, and feeling pretty awesome because there'd been no casualty and getting thanked by the kid's mother, feeling like a real hero and all that.
He shakes himself out of his memory. Bakugou is still glaring at him. "M-maybe I got hit by something. But it's nothing serious!” he amends, “And quirk effects like that always fade pretty fast so I should just. Go to bed. I'll be fine tomorrow," he tries to reason, but he's not moving because that would mean uncrossing his arms and then Bakugou would see what is now two big wet spots on his t-shirt, right over his nipples.
Bakugou stares for a moment, frowning, definitely ticked off, "Shirt off."
"What? No! Why?!" Eijirou wants to curl in on himself.
"You can take your fucking shirt off or I can do it for you," he makes small explosions pop in his palms to make his point and that’s a very compelling argument. That ‘Crimson Riot’ shirt is one of his favorite and he knows Bakugou would not hesitate to burn it. He destroyed many of his shirts in the past...
"Alright, alright!" So he pulls it off real fast and bundle it in his lap, so Bakugou hopefully wouldn't catch a glimpse of the wetness.
Not like it’d make a difference at this point though.
Eijirou looks down at himself and his pecs are noticeably swollen (or maybe it's just noticeable to him? one can hope), nipples flushed and erect and wet, milk still pearling at the tips. He doesn't look at Bakugou's face who’s probably completely weirded out and disgusted by now. He feels like he's blushing with his whole body.
"It's just really weird and embarrassing, nothing to worry about, see?"
Having no qualm making him more embarrassed than he already is, Bakugou pokes his left pec, just shy of his nipple, long and insistent, and it makes him leak more milk that trickle down his torso but also it hurts.
"Ow ow ow!! stop it!" he bats his hand away, "What the hell Bakugou?!"
"Feels tight, hard. Harder than usual I mean," Did Bakugou pay a lot of attention to Eijirou's body? To how it feels?? "Like there's a lot of build up. S'why it hurts right?"
He's taking this surprisingly seriously, huh.
His eyes are also following the drops of milk that trailed down to Eijirou's abs when he poked him.
Eijirou would really like to know what he’s thinking.
"Well. I guess."
"You should. Get it all out. Get rid of this stupid quirk side-effect as soon as possible," he says haltingly, and he finally sounds a bit embarrassed by the situation, which Eijirou would enjoy if he wasn’t so mortified himself by the suggestion.
“Are you saying I should be milked?! Like a cow?”
A twitch at the corner of his mouth like he’s fighting a grin, “Fucking duh.”
“I’m not a cow, I’m a man!” should he be offended? He thinks he should be offended.
“Then do it like a man or whatever!” he shouts, throwing his hands up.
Bakugou can be really persuasive sometimes because without question Eijirou has his hands hovering in front of his chest, hesitating, wondering how does he go about it, he doesn’t know how to milk a cow, much less a man, nevermind himself! But reality catches up and he asks himself: should he really be doing that in front of Bakugou? He should be locking himself in a bathroom. Or a shower even, this is bound to get messy right?
Bakugou sighs exasperatedly, “It’s not that hard Hair-For-Brains!” and he knocks Eijirou’s hands out of the way and just leans forward and presses his hands to his chest, quirk-hot palms curving underneath the prominent muscles, thumbs and index fingers making half circles around his dripping nipples and, with a hint of his bloodthirsty grin pulling at his lips, he squeezes.
Eijirou yelps as twin trickles of milk escapes and it hurts, like pressing none too gently on a fresh bruise.
And of course his first reflex to feeling that level of pain is to harden to protect himself (and at the back of his mind he hopes he won’t be cutting into Bakugou’s hands with his sharp edges) but all thoughts fly out of his mind as the tension in his flesh, in his muscles as he harden makes him actually squirt. A small splash of milk hitting Bakugou right in the face. Across the bridge of his nose and on his cheek.
He jumps back, his groping hands leaving Eijirou’s body, and sits back on his haunches, eyes wide in shock.
“Oh. Oh my god. S-sorry Bakugou,” he can’t help the laugh at the end and he claps a hand over his mouth to stop it, it’s hysterical he knows, because he’s not unaware of the implications of frickin’ squirting his man milk on someone’s face. Worse, watching the white liquid trickle down his cheek, catching at the corner of his mouth before dripping down his chin, Eijirou is vividly reminded of fantasies he’s had about his best friend in the past.
But also he knows Bakugou is probably gonna kill him now.
Any moment.
Or he thought so before Bakugou reaches up with a hand to wipes at his face, but notices he has milk on his hands already (from trying to milk Eijirou holy shit that just happened too) so instead his tongue darts out, catching a couple of drops of milk, and Eijirou doesn’t feel a tightness exclusively in his chest anymore.
Bakugou visibly takes a second to try and analyse the taste and apparently that wasn’t enough for a verdict because he brings his hand back up to wipe what’s left on his face and bring it directly to his mouth, sucking on his thumb a little.
Eijirou thinks he hears a low appreciative hum.
“What does it taste like?” he can’t help but ask.
“Like milk, dumbass.”
“Just normal milk? Really?”
“It tastes fucking rich, human milk is full of protein you know, it’s probably better for you than your shitty protein shakes. Tastes fucking better anyway.”
Eijirou feels a little dizzy. He just avoided death by explosion and now Bakugou is praising the taste of his bodily fluid. Is this real life? How does one even reply to that? “That’s. Cool, I guess?”
Bakugou grunts, cheeks slightly flushed, and with his eyes drilling into Eijirou’s chest looking, dare he say, thirsty? he mumbles: “It would be a fucking shame to waste something of this quality…”
Is that a roundabout way to ask if…
“I guess if I can find a way to, like, put it in a glass? I could. Give it to you?”
Bakugou grinds his teeth, like this isn’t what he wanted to hear but at the same time too embarrassed to says what he does want. He’s flexing his hands in a way Eijirou knows it means he wants to explode something. Or someone (probably him).
He utters a low “Fuck it,” then moves to sit with his back against the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Eijirou, who has no time to process what’s happening before he gets manhandled to kneel over Bakugou’s lap, warm hands on his waist to hold him in place.
Then loudly, with his I-know-better-than-everyone voice, “Suction’s the best way to get it out right? Every damn mammal knows that. This is just the best non-wasteful way to get rid of it ya hear?”
He’s not even looking at Eijirou's face while he says that, his burning eyes are locked on his swollen nipples, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin of his pecs. A shiver runs down his spine. Fuck, is he really saying that he wants to…? Eijirou squeaks something that might be a “ok,” which was all Bakugou needed and then his hands are moving to his back and pressing him closer while Bakugou leans his head forward and seals his mouth over his right nip and sucks.
Eijirou gasps as he feels the milk comes out, and it stings at first but almost immediately turns into relief as some of the internal pressure is sucked right out of him. And of course Bakugou doesn’t do anything half-assed so he sucks hard, like he’s at the end of a very good milkshake, and that comparison is maybe a little too appropriate but Eijirou can’t think of anything else, maybe his brain is getting sucked out at the same time.
Bakugou pulls back for a moment, just long enough for Eijirou to hear him swallow (which makes him gulp in response), and his lips are immediately back around his nipple, sucking long and hard, tongue flicking against the bud to catch every drop. It feels so good and he wants so bad to arch into him but, that would be weird?
He also doesn’t know what to do with his hands, they’ve been hanging limp at his sides but he wants to bury them in Bakugou’s hair (he can feel the soft spikes brushing his collarbone and under his chin) but again doesn’t want to make it weird (weirder than it already is) so he settles for bracing himself on Bakugou’s shoulders as he leans in more aggressively, forcing Eijirou to bend backward, and open up his jaw wider to press his teeth around the areola.
Eijirou chokes on a moan as his milk squirts into Bakugou’s hot mouth.
After maybe a minute of sucking and nibbling, it feels like nothing is coming out anymore and Bakugou pulls himself off with a wet pop (holy shit), eyes half-lidded and lips shiny and cheeks definitely ruddy now (this is so unfair) “Fuck, that’s good,” he says, voice a low rumble (Kirishima.exe has ceased functioning).
He looks up at Eijirou with the most soft frown in his repertoire. “That’s gotta feel better now, right?”
It takes him a couple false starts to get his brain to work enough to answer, “Y-yeah, it doesn’t feel like it’s gonna burst anymore,” he still sounds breathless though.
“But there’s still some left?” Did he sound hopeful?
“I think? Maybe if you, like,” he makes a grabby motion with his hand, “at the same time, like earlier, that would help? To get it all out?”
Bakugou just do this little affirmative sound, “hn,” and looks ready to dive back in right where he left off but Eijirou pushes him back by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.
“Wait, wait!”
“What the fuck Kirishima! Do you want help or not?!” Even his ears are flushed and Eijirou is afraid for a second that all the weirdness will have caught up to him and Bakugou will push him off.
“I do! I do! Just, can you, do my other side first? Please?” He asks sheepishly.
“Oh. Sure,” the tension leaves him as fast as it appeared then he shrugs Eijirou’s hands off his shoulder, wraps his left arm more tightly around his back and drags his right hand up his body smoothly to cup his tender muscle. Eijirou shivers in anticipation. Then Bakugou licks a long stripe up to his nip to drink every drops that leaked out of his neglected side before giving it its first real suck, and again it’s sharp pain followed by blissful relief, pulling out a real moan out of him. Bakugou’s hand massaging his tender muscle at the same time is making everything more intense and his legs are trembling, he can’t hold himself up on his knees anymore so he lets himself fall in his lap and.
Oh.
He’s not the only one who’s turned on by this. That’s definitely Bakugou’s dick he can feel against his, hot and hard through their clothes.
Bakugou doesn’t seem bothered by the slight change in position (or his hard-on), his lips staying firmly attached to Eijirou’s chest and just drinking his fill like he’s a parched man, like this milk is the sweetest nectar.
Eijirou whines in pleasure as Bakugou takes a particularly long pull, his hot fingers stroking firmly to help push more out. It feels so good, especially when he adds a bit of teeth to it, the pain mixed with the relief sending tingles all the way down his spine and the way he licks up his chest every time a drop of the creamy liquid escapes his mouth? Like wasting any of it would be the most impardonnable villainous act? That sight goes straight to his dick, which Bakugou is letting him grind against his without interrupting the work of his sinful mouth. Fuck, he could come like that. Kind of wants to.
He also wonders if there’s something weird in that milk of his for Bakugou to crave it this much?
“Bakugou,” he sighs to get his attention, “is it really so good that you don’t wanna share?”
He groans in response, slightly annoyed, before pulling off and straightening up and Eijirou barely has time to realise he’s got his mouth tightly closed around a mouthful of milk before he grabs Eijirou’s face and presses their mouths together. Bakugou parts his lips and more than half the milk just spill down their chin messily but still some of it makes it to his mouth and it’s rich and warm, a strong flavor he barely has time to figure out if he likes it or not before Bakugou chases after it with his tongue. Now this, this is a taste Eijirou instantly knows he loves but he barely has time to appreciate it, to kiss back, that Bakugou’s tongue leaves his mouth and starts to move down, licking at the spilled milk down his neck, his collarbone, and then he’s back on his right nipple with both hands stroking and groping his chest to get the last of the milk out.
Eijirou throws his head back, closing his eyes and engraving in his memory the taste of Bakugou’s mouth and the feeling of it on his body.
—
Eijirou is leaning his head against soft blond spikes, arms loosely wrapped around muscled shoulders, while Bakugou has his face buried in the crook of his neck, hands idly caressing his chest, thumbs catching at his nipples, which feel kind of sore after the abuse they’ve been put through, but it also feels nice, tingly. He feels kinda gross and like he needs a shower because as much as Bakugou clearly made an effort to drink every drop, some still spilled and is now drying against his abs. Also there’s the fact he came in his pants. Yeah that’s probably a little gross too. He thinks Bakugou might have the same problem? Still he doesn’t want to move quite yet.
“Hey Blasty,” Bakugou acknowledges him by squeezing his pecs with both hands.
“Thanx for huh, helping me through this. Feels much better now, you’re a real bro,” he’s not sure if what they did classify as a bro thing. Maybe more a boyfriend thing? He hopes anyway. But he’s grateful and he had to let Bakugou know.
Bakugou groans and leans back against his bed, face angled to the ceiling.
“You’re welcome and also fuck you.”
“What? What did I do?!” Eijirou is pretty sure Bakugou enjoyed it so why the sudden hostility?
“That shit was too good,” he says, “you fucking ruined milk forever, now the normal stuff is gonna taste like plain fucking water to me! You suck,” oh god he’s pouting, too cute.
Also an opening like that is just asking for it.
“If anyone here sucks it’s you though,” that gets him a lovely snarl and he grins. “and if you liked my, milk so much, I’m sure we could, uh, find a way for you to have more of my, man milk?” he definitely failed at being anything close to suave with that suggestion, but Bakugou still snorts a laugh so Eijirou counts it for a win anyway.
“That will never tastes as good,” Bakugou replies, but he doesn’t say he won’t try it.