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Above the abandoned building they tentatively called theirs without any deeper attachment, the moon hung suspended in the sky like a bare, dying lightbulb, casting pale light over the city rooftops. Its light mingled with the blazing neon signs and brightly lit store fronts and was lost, disappearing toward the ground and forgotten by the many whose eyes watched their shoes. Even the one who wished to appreciate it most could not see it, the four walls around them guarding them from the world outside, its eyes, and even that faint light.
“We will have another opportunity. This isn't the last they've seen of us, Shigaraki Tomura,” said Kurogiri, back turned to him as he dried another glass, placed it on the shelf.
That wasn't it, though. Tomura wished he could find a way to explain the feeling he had. Each time he opened his mouth, the words his lips formed didn't shape that feeling correctly. There didn't seem to be any words that could form its texture. So, endlessly, his mind went in a loop. Beyond explaining it to anyone else, he hopelessly fought to explain it to himself.
It wasn't failure. That was all he knew. Yet, there was no other word to describe it.
They returned with little to show for their effort. One of their Noumu had even been captured, yet Sensei said that their operation wasn't a failure. If it weren't, Tomura was afraid he had no other way of explaining the way their results left him feeling.
In life, weren't there only victories and defeats? Win states and game overs?
Perhaps they were still in the middle of the journey and he simply overestimated their progress, mistaking a mid-boss encounter with their main antagonist as the final confrontation. If that were the case, then there wasn't anything to worry about. Sensei was right. He always was. Just as he said, they were still gaining experience, leveling up, filling out their party.
Knowing that, though... Even knowing that, he couldn't escape that feeling.
He didn't doubt Sensei – not in the slightest, not ever – but he felt...
He felt...
...Disappointed?
They went into that encounter feeling as prepared as they could, feeling confident, and then they got shot down; swatted like flies by the overwhelming might of the final boss who arrived to make his power known. Sensei said they were just overly optimistic, but it was simple, shameful overconfidence. It may have been stupid for him to think it was possible for them to defeat him so early, but he wanted to have that trophy in his collection so badly. That sparkling rare platinum prize would have made him the envy of the villain world and would have certainly sent the most powerful message to the entire world of heroes: “We, the League of Villains, are not to be taken lightly!”
Disappointment it was then; just the same that followed any failed quest. There would be continues, but he wouldn't be able to easily forget his mistake.
That was all a part of learning, Sensei would surely say. 'Cracking a few eggs' and all that...
He'd made other mistakes in the past, though. As he continued to think about it, idly sipping at a drink given to him by Kurogiri, Tomura wondered what it was that made this mistake leave such an impression upon him. As quickly as possible, he wished to shake it off and start again.
It was frustrating. Normally, he wouldn't have to wait so long. He wouldn't have to think so hard. Faster, faster, he wanted to continue and overwrite that mistake, leave it behind him, bury it in impressive successes.
“Ah...”
He looked up from his drink, holding it loosely between three fingers, as something clicked in his head. Folding his towel, setting it down carefully on the counter, Kurogiri turned around and regarded him silently at first, waiting an appropriate amount of time to see first if he would offer up what he was thinking.
“Have you thought of something, Shigaraki Tomura?”
“I...”
There weren't really any thoughts in his head at that moment – or maybe there were just too many. Tomura's eyes looked ahead, and they may have even been pointed in Kurogiri's direction, but he wasn't looking at anything, really. That speck of a word that escaped his lips had likely been nothing more than the discharge of excess thought from his brain.
Eventually, the wires connected one by one, giving power to a brain short-circuited, restoring the light behind his eyes.
Blinking slowly, he closed his open mouth and set down his drink. Its ice chimed against the side of the clear glass and its perspiration seeped into the coaster beneath it. “I want to see Sensei,” he said. The thought complete, he pushed away from the counter and got off his bar stool.
“I'm not certain he will be available at such a late hour,” Kurogiri said, advising him against contacting their overseer. “That aside, in his condition-”
His back already turned to the bar, Tomura looked over his shoulder to fix Kurogiri with a look. “I'm aware of his condition. I'm more aware of Sensei's condition than anyone. It doesn't matter when or where, if I call for him, I can see him. I hope you aren't implying that his condition would make him incapable of seeing me simply because it's late. He isn't an invalid.”
“My apologies. I misspoke,” Kurogiri said, his apology delivered hastily on the tail of Tomura's final word. He bowed slightly, then straightened up to his full proud height. “Would it not be forward-looking to rely on your own judgment?”
“It's not that,” Tomura said.
What it was, he still wasn't fully certain, but it wasn't indecision, nor was it a sudden lack of confidence that made him wish to see him. The answer was inside of him somewhere, and it made him feel somewhat inadequate that it was taking him so long to decipher it for himself, but he knew that if there were anyone who could comprehend it, then that person would be Sensei.
Ignoring the advice directed at his back, Tomura left and shut himself in the next room, Kurogiri's voice ceasing with the sound of the door, the silence of the dark room swallowing him. In that room, not even a shadow jumped out to greet him, all consumed and equal in pure and still darkness. Without anything but the soft creaking of frail, water-warped floorboards beneath his feet to guide him, he found the table across the room, touching its surface lightly with the back of a hand to find his laptop and turn it on.
For some reason, as he waited for it to power on, watching as dim light brought life to a black screen, he felt something tighten in his chest. Like apprehension, it made him hesitate to sit, making his feet falter and his fingers twitch.
After that defeat that wasn't a defeat but that he perceived to be as such, he didn't want to see him. But he wanted to see him.
It was perplexing, that feeling, but even if he couldn't find a word to name it, it was familiar. He felt it whenever Sensei spoke, placing his expectations gently upon his shoulders. Having not delivered the results he desired, he just... Didn't want to face him.
But...
...It was going to follow in a maddening circle from that point, so Tomura decided to turn off his thoughts. That was easy to do, sometimes. It was convenient. It allowed his fingers to move across the keys unhindered, opening a line. He didn't allow himself the time to reconsider whether or not he wanted to speak with him, didn't question whether he should have listened to Kurogiri's advice. Because it simply wasn't like that. He didn't want to see him to ask forgiveness or wallow in shame or request his intervention.
He just wanted to see him. But he didn't want to see him.
Blessedly, before the spiral could continue, his call was answered. There was Sensei.
He looked unbothered by his call. It was well past midnight, but he was still in a suit. “Calling me this late... Is there something you need, Tomura?”
“I knew you'd be awake,” he said.
At once, Sensei smiled, an amused twist of the corners of his mouth that made Tomura's throat feel hot. Tomura knew that Sensei wouldn't have truly thought he was calling for guidance. In the middle of the night, too? So long after the fact? That would've been silly.
“So what is it then? Did you just want to see me?” He laughed warmly. “The only one who would say that about this face. I'm so touched.”
“Hurry up and warp me already.”
“Oh? Well, alright then.”
Their call was ended. Following, there was silence and the glow of the screen and nothing. Seconds later came that peculiar yet familiar sensation that came with Sensei's Transmission quirk, like being dissolved from the inside out. It made Tomura's mind feel blank for a moment before his body reappeared beneath him in the next moment and he was somewhere else.
He stumbled slightly but quickly caught his footing and stood before Sensei.
“Sensei.”
Sensei's eyeless face studied him, an elbow on the arm of his chair, his cheek resting in his palm. “You sound tired. You've been thinking a lot, haven't you? About where to go. What you'll do next. I hope you haven't been too disappointed with today's outcome. You know, Tomura, in a matter of hours, dawn will provide you with limitless opportunities. Regret now if you must, but don't waste too much time.”
Was that it? Regret?
“Hm...”
Sitting up, Sensei leaned back in his chair and waved a hand as if to push the thought away. “No worries. I know that isn't why you're here. Would you really deny this old man his opportunity to share words of wisdom with his beloved student? There are few things I enjoy in this world, you know.” He opened his arms and gestured for Tomura to come nearer. “Come, Tomura.”
His body moved without thinking, taking him forward one foot after another, drawn to Sensei's arms by the force of another feeling he'd always felt and never had a name for. However close Sensei wanted him to come wasn't close enough, Tomura decided as he sat himself down in his lap, resting his knees on either side of him. When it came to Sensei, Tomura always felt some hesitation to lift his hands. They stayed at his sides, his fingers tingling with the visceral desire to touch him.
He wanted to see him, but now that he was there, literally one breath apart from him, he couldn't think of what he wanted to tell him. Not that he'd known to begin with.
“He was right there,” he muttered. It wasn't purely regret or disappointment, but that humbling admittance came out nonetheless.
“Were you afraid?” Sensei asked. Although his question made Tomura bristle, it hadn't been said to provoke him. He lightly touched Tomura's cheek, then slid his arms around his waist, pulling him a bit closer until they were unmistakably in an embrace.
Now that they were that close, Tomura released a long sigh and put his arms around Sensei's shoulders, keeping his hands to himself, safely resting his wrists over his elbows. “Don't be funny. I wasn't afraid,” he said, though he remembered the way his heart froze when witnessing All Might's strength. If he'd been afraid, that meant that he only had himself to blame for what happened, and he didn't want to think that way. He wasn't going to think that way. “It was just a shame.”
“A shame, hm? What makes it a shame?” Sensei asked, always asking the hard questions.
“We... could have crushed him-”
“Probably not,” Sensei said. There was no way to read what he was thinking by searching his face for an expression, but Tomura felt the certainty of his words in the way he held him more tightly. “I told you, did I not? Thus far, everything has been within the realm of my expectations. Today's results do not concern me. We gained more than we lost in the scheme of things. So, I ask you again, Tomura – why is it a shame?”
He wasn't provoking him. He wasn't. Sensei just wanted to help him understand himself.
It was so frustrating, though.
Gritting his teeth, Tomura pressed his forehead against Sensei's and groaned, aggravated. The answer was there inside of that head. If only he could become one with him and absorb each and every thought. Then, more than understand himself, he would understand Sensei. Then the world would appear much clearer in his view, if not darker.
Another chuckle interrupted his frantic thinking. One of Sensei's hands touched the back of his head and rested there comfortingly. “Oh, my sweet boy, you're so honest. You don't even know.” He moved his hand, gently stroking his wild hair. “It isn't a shame to me. I'm not disappointed. I'll tell you as many times as it takes for you to understand. You did well. I believe in you.”
That... That was it.
That was why he needed to see him. To hear those words.
He wanted to hear them over and over. As many times as Sensei would grant them.
Feeling no motivation to move from that spot, he stayed in Sensei's lap, letting him pet his hair, feeling his breath against his skin as he kept his forehead pressed against his, being as close as he could to hear each word as clearly as possible, paying them deep attention, absorbing their meaning. He wanted to soak in them. He wanted to bask in that attention, those expectations, his praise.
“I missed you,” he said.
“Me? Or this?” Sensei asked, his fingers gliding through his hair, fingertips rubbing his scalp. “So earnest. I should have realized sooner how reliant you are on your sensei's approval. You know, though – I probably won't always be here to praise you. You can't rely on anyone but yourself in the heroes' world. You're going to have to learn how to fly with your own wings eventually.”
Don't say that.
Sensei couldn't tell him things like that. Because Sensei was always right.
He wanted to do that. Tomura wanted to spread his wings and perch himself atop the defeated heroes and laugh as the public finally opened their eyes to their own foolishness. That was all expected. It was within Sensei's plans that he would accomplish such. But, at that time, Tomura wanted to be able to look over his shoulder and see what it had all been for.
Himself...?
“I know I shouldn't encourage it, but I can't say that I don't appreciate your company, however,” Sensei told him, joining his hand with the one already around Tomura's waist.
Despite himself and all he'd come to call common sense, Tomura's hands badly wanted to grasp him. Everything that fell into his hands always inevitably vanished, and he didn't want Sensei to be one of those things. He didn't want to see him crumble, but he didn't know how he could hold on to something he couldn't even touch. He still didn't even have the words yet.
Deeds not words, he decided. Until he could perfectly spell it out letter for letter, there were other ways to communicate that earnestness. For all the ways his body had betrayed him in the past, it was, as Sensei said, honest if nothing else.
So, needing to move less than an inch from where he was already resting, he pressed his lips against Sensei's. Sensei didn't react with surprise, but that was no surprise. Their lips had met before, but each time, they said something new. This time, Tomura pressed his lips against his with insistence, confidently, hoping that he could hammer that feeling and make it manifest in the zero space between bone and soft skin.
Sensei's lips were so warm, soft. Well- His bottom lip, at least. His upper lip was more or less missing. He had very clean teeth, though.
Before going any farther, Tomura pulled back slightly and searched for his thoughts.
Slowly, Sensei released him from his arms, but he placed his hands on his thighs instead. Even though there was no way to say that he was looking at him, Tomura had the distinct feeling that Sensei was staring straight at him when he tilted his chin up and faced him. He came in on his own, giving him a quick kiss that felt slow, and sat back again. “I see,” he said, a curious sort of smile warping his face. “I understand. If that's how you want it to be, then.”
The sudden relief Tomura felt was so powerful, it left him feeling winded. “Really? So then... Then I'll stay here tonight. With you, Sensei.”
“Did you make sure to tell Kurogiri where you were going? It wouldn't do to have him thinking you disappeared on your own. The last thing I want to do is cause that poor man more stress. You're quite the little handful for him.”
Tomura nodded and nodded. “It's fine. That's his job anyway.”
“That's fair.” Lightly, Sensei tightened his hands around his thighs, gripping, massaging slowly. Tomura had always loved those hands. The one he'd extended to him looked so big when they first met. His little palm would've been lost in Sensei's, half its size. Even now, they looked big to him, his hands so large and filled with so much strength that Tomura imagined they could crush his bones with no effort at all. That terrifying strength was his personal comfort.
They slipped easily from teacher and student into the ambiguous zone between, acknowledged with vague words and touches with unquestionable intentions. At the point that Sensei was touching him, sliding his hands over the inside of his clothed thighs, over his hips, back again, Tomura finally let his own fingers become a little adventurous.
Sensei had never been afraid of him. As much as Tomura wished to grasp him with everything he had, and although he knew that he couldn't, Sensei's sheer strength and assertive presence made him feel assured, like he could never accidentally do him harm.
Tomura traced his jaw with the tips of two fingers, slid three of them over his cheek, loosely held the back of his head as he came in again to press another kiss to his mouth. Sensei breathed out against his lips, a quiet wheeze from his nasal passage as the tube in his throat sent air to his lungs. Taking one of his hands off his thigh, Sensei touched his chin, tilting it at the angle he desired to get Tomura to open his mouth for him. Feeling his tongue caressing his own, Tomura let out a moan with no shame and moved himself closer, rubbing the front of his pants over Sensei's.
Tomura could feel every scar on Sensei's lips as they formed into a grin.
“As eager as ever, I see. Even here,” he said, putting his hand down, grasping him through his pants. “It must have been difficult for you, working on your own, being away from me. I feel so much pride when I see you trying your hardest. That's why, even if you didn't succeed, I'm happy. I know your limitations and capability, and I'm sure that you will soon as well.”
Fire burned in Tomura's body at his words of confidence. His toes curled against the front of his shoes as Sensei continued to palm him and murmur kind things to him. He was so easy. He was too easy. If anyone else saw him that way, he would've probably killed them before they had a chance to utter a word about his shameless appearance, but when it was Sensei... It really didn't matter. Sensei knew him inside and out; every inch of his skin, the deepest reaches of his body, and even the swirling cloud inside his head. He'd already touched every place his hands could reach and caressed his mind with his voice. There was not another person Tomura could trust more.
“Sensei...”
He wasn't there to play. He'd wanted to make a point, and yet, rapidly, he was falling into his hands, just like always. A plea was there, ready to be released, but it didn't need to be said. And even if he had the hands to make every choice himself, he had the feeling he would have placed himself in the same position. His choice would've been to allow Sensei the control of his decisions.
That really wasn't how Sensei wanted him to be, was it?
Was it...?
Well, for something like this, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. He wasn't straying from his goals with this. Not at all. It was perfectly fine. Sensei thought it was fine, so it was fine. He wouldn't have been indulging him at all if it weren't.
“S-sensei...” His voice, even to his own ears, sounded obscene.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he replied, his hand still squeezing and stroking, playing with him through his clothing. “I could go on teasing you like this for a long time. I know what it is you want, but I think I would rather hear you tell me yourself. You can use your words, can't you?”
Tomura gaped. As soon as Sensei took his hand away, he almost growled, his body immediately missing the contact. “For real? Really? You want me to spell it out for you?”
“Is that too difficult? You don't have to...” he said, putting his cheek back in his palm, acting bored. “But I don't have to do anything either.”
“S-sensei...” he muttered weakly, heart pounding loudly, every fibre of his being resisting in embarrassment. Normally, he didn't have time for anything as silly as embarrassment, thinking there wasn't enough time in life to be wasted on frivolous hesitation, but it was Sensei. Everything was different when he was concerned. “Fine,” he said, trying to find a new place to put his eyes as he struggled to speak. “I want you to...f- Look, it's not like we haven't done this before, so-”
“Are you stalling?”
Maybe. He didn't want to delay it, but perhaps he was stalling. Just a little bit. “I thought you wouldn't tease me. Since when has that become your style?”
“Can't help it. You're still very easily provoked. That could be bad news for you anywhere else. Here, it's just...” He leaned forward, placed a toothy kiss to the side of Tomura's mouth. “Very endearing.”
Tomura dropped his head to Sensei's shoulder and groaned. “I feel so played. You played me. That's not fair.”
His hands returned to his thighs, his fingertips lightly running up and down, from knee to hip. “I can play by whatever rules I want if the game is mine.” He snickered, proud of himself. “How was that? Does that metaphor suit you?”
It was hard to decide if it was irritating or charming to hear Sensei stealing his trademark. Part of him wanted to deck his stupid face, but another part of him (unarguably the bigger portion) wanted to ride him even more badly for it. “You're cruel.” No surprise there. “You're so mean, I shouldn't wanna ride your dick as bad as I do. How's that? Suit you?”
“Feisty. But not bad. I like it.” Running his hands up Tomura's body, he pressed his hands to his chest and gave him a light shove, making him stumble off his lap. “Get to it, then. Take off your clothes.”
Tomura looked around himself, at the dark room, the computer monitors behind Sensei illuminating him in a halo of light. Wherever they were, it wasn't 'home'. This wasn't where he spent most of his time together with Sensei. None of the shadows looked familiar and he couldn't even find where the doors were – if there were doors to be found. “What? Right here? All of it?” he asked.
“Are you worried about catching cold? No? Then you don't need to ask twice.” Sensei waved a finger, gesturing at the whole of his outfit, even his shoes – all of it, just like he told him. If he questioned him again, Tomura doubted that he would get mad at him, but there might be some punishment in it for him. At any other time, that might've sounded nice, but his body was begging him to comply.
For a man with no eyes, he had a really intense stare. His unwavering attention almost made Tomura feel nervous. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially when when he was there with Sensei, in a safe place; an exciting sense of tension without the fear of failure. Even though it was a simple thing, as easy as sliding his feet out of his shoes, it made him feel like he was accomplishing something. Each inch he exposed made him want to become even more bold, made him want to conquer the truly difficult things for Sensei.
The room wasn't cold at all. The darkness was filled with stuffy heat from multiple computer towers and a lack of circulation. His toes actually felt warmer when he placed his bare feet upon the floor – cement, he noticed; a little dusty. Warmth embraced his chest and wrapped around his neck as he pulled off his shirt. Eager to move forward, he kicked off his pants and didn't care about where he tossed them. Everything around him seemed to blur when he looked at Sensei.
He was completely exposed, but he didn't feel vulnerable. Standing before Sensei with both of his feet placed firmly on the ground, he felt like he was standing on top of the world.
Sensei held out a hand and Tomura approached. Positioning himself between his legs, he stood still and let Sensei touch him, releasing a breath as he ran his fingers over his chest, the protrusion of his ribs, the curve of his hip, the sensitive lower part of his stomach. His thighs quivered, but he forced himself to keep standing straight and tried not to beg. His cock was hard and he wanted Sensei to touch him there, but he seemed to be purposely ignoring that, examining everything else first, making him wait for it.
“Have you been eating properly? You seem a little thinner,” Sensei commented.
Tomura wanted to laugh. That was why he was making him wait? “Hey, I've been busy.”
“You'll be even busier soon. You mustn't forget about yourself.” One hand resting reassuringly on Tomura's hip, he lifted the other and held his cheek. “You're my very important Tomura. You're valuable to me. Irreplaceable. Please take care of yourself when I am not there.”
Keeping his index finger raised, Tomura placed his hand over Sensei's. There were words, maybe, but he didn't know how to say them, so he just nodded.
Without another word, Sensei tightened his hand around his hip and pulled him into his lap. His balance lost, Tomura reached out for the back of Sensei's chair to steady himself. Had he not been thinking quickly enough, he might have dissolved his chair, or, worse, he may have grabbed Sensei instead. But Sensei didn't act like he was concerned. Rather, he was just unafraid. Like always, he was just that confident in his ability to predict what he would do, even when he was caught off guard.
“I don't think I could last with anyone else,” Tomura mused, staring at the black ceiling. “Or they couldn't last with me. Imagine trying to fuck a pile of ashes.”
Sensei laughed so hard it made him cough a little. “Is that your way of telling me that you value me too?”
“You get what I'm saying, don't you? Sensei is best,” he said, getting back into the groove, rubbing his chest against Sensei's much broader chest.
“Yes, I understand. I am the best, aren't I? No one understands Tomura like Sensei.” He lowered his head slightly, just enough to capture Tomura's lips again, giving him a short but deep kiss. He went a bit lower then, laying small pinches along his jaw with his teeth, lower yet to his neck. As he worked at the delicate skin of his throat, Tomura decided that it would only be fair to return the attention, rubbing the back of a hand over the front of his pants.
Although he could only move his hand awkwardly, pressing, stroking as best as he could while avoiding letting his fingers come together between them, he heard Sensei responding. As he continued to paw at him, Tomura tilted his head back, giving Sensei more access to his throat, silently thrilled by the thought of seeing purple marks on his skin. He always wondered what people thought of him when he went outside. A hood could only hide so much. He didn't like going outside and he didn't want anyone to see or remember his face, but it was a matter of inevitability. Most people were too polite to stare at him for too long, but even in a world full of unusual people with unusual powers, he was still strange to them.
“I want to hurry up and make this world ours,” Tomura mumbled, thinking out loud.
Sensei's smile spread across his skin. “That's the spirit.”
“Sensei, fuck me. Do it already,” he pleaded anxiously, his face feeling hot.
“Now, now. We can't be too hasty. I don't want to hurt you,” he said. As he came away from his neck, Tomura could feel the stinging marks he left behind and could imagine the way they were turning colors. Sensei brought up a hand and pressed two fingers to Tomura's lips. “Do it right.”
This couldn't be 'doing it right', but it was better than nothing. Obediently, Tomura opened his mouth, taking Sensei's fingers inside. His eyes closed and rolled back as he slid his tongue around his fingers. Within seconds, his large palm and long fingers had Tomura wishing he could feel those fingers inside of him, and perhaps it was that thought that encouraged him to work harder, moving his head in a lewd manner, getting them thoroughly wet. Even that much wouldn't be enough, he was sure, but he wanted to feel him inside of him as soon as possible and it didn't even matter to him anymore how painful it could be. When it was Sensei, nothing was painful.
“That's enough,” Sensei said, slipping his fingers from his mouth. A little saliva followed them and dribbled down Tomura's jaw. Sensei must've noticed because he wiped it away with his thumb. “Very good, Tomura. You've been so patient. Do forgive me if this still hurts.”
It didn't matter. Tomura was ready. His heart picked up, happily throbbing in his chest at Sensei's gentle praise. Putting the ball of his palms against Sensei's shoulders, he raised himself up slightly, his knees on either side of Sensei's legs, giving him better access. As soon as he felt the two of his fingers pressing at him from behind, he leaned over him, letting a sound involuntarily escape his mouth. Sensei's quiet snickering just made his dick harder.
“I don't even have to tell you to relax,” Sensei remarked. He swirled the tips of his fingers around his entrance, a little slippery – but only just a little. Before Tomura could start worrying about how long he was going to take before he got to the point, he felt one of those fingers pressing into him.
It was incredible... It was like Sensei knew the perfect way; when to move, the pressure necessary, how much he could take at once. It was like it was all calculated beforehand. Even something like that... Sensei was truly formidable.
As he moved the first finger inside of him, gently exploring his insides, Tomura could feel his knees getting weak. Sensei must have noticed even that, his other hand rising to hold him by the waist. It made him feel a little weak to even think it, but he could look weak in front of him without worry. Conflicting thoughts like those made him want to hold himself up more strongly, if only to show him that he didn't need his support even if he appreciated it. Even if he wanted it.
At the second finger, that bravado was lost. All too soon, his legs started shaking again. Spit probably hadn't been enough... But it was like his body didn't even care. Discomfort be damned, the feeling of two of Sensei's fingers inside of him made him want to scream in the best possible way. At the back of his mind, Tomura wondered if there were any other people in the building they were in and if anyone would be able to hear them if he started yelling. He knew he didn't have to hold back with him, but he wasn't stupid.
“Sensei, may I... Is it safe to...” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Is there anyone around?”
Sensei hummed pleasantly. “Ah, yes, I see. You want to know if you can get loud, is that right? Be as loud as you like, Tomura. I'd love to listen.” Saying that, he curled his fingers inside of him and stabbed them directly into that one spot.
That first strike wasn't enough to shake him, but the second caught Tomura so off guard that he wouldn't have even been able to keep himself from yelling if he wanted. It was gentler than the first, massaging with steady pressure. The longer he kept his fingers there, barely moving them, the more it made Tomura feel like he was losing his mind. All of his thoughts vacated his head. It was only by a miracle that he remembered to keep his hands in a safe position, somehow resisting the natural urge to clutch at Sensei's shoulders.
“See how relaxed you are? Even like this, you're taking my fingers so easily.”
Sometimes, Tomura wished that Sensei wouldn't say things so blatantly. It made it harder not to come.
Scratching the back of Sensei's neck with his short nails, Tomura moved his hips, trying to chase the fingers inside of him, looking for an even more satisfying pleasure. He wanted more and more and more, but he knew that Sensei wasn't teasing him anymore. He was building him up, making him want it more. And, boy, did he want it.
After what felt like minutes of constant massaging, Tomura was starting to feel like passing out. By the time Sensei finally pulled his fingers out, he wasn't sure how he was still on his knees. His cock was twitching, neglected, with thin, clear precum dripping all over the front of Sensei's suit. If he was bothered, he didn't say anything about it. That was probably a trivial thing to Sensei. After he took his fingers out, he finally wrapped them around Tomura's cock and gave it a few slow strokes to reward him for his patience.
“You look like you're under a spell,” Sensei said.
Funny he would say that. That was how he felt.
Dazed, the surface of his skin buzzing with raw, unresolved arousal, Tomura blearily brought his hands down to begin working at Sensei's pants. He carefully unbuckled his belt with three fingers and pulled it out, letting it fall and clatter on the hard cement floor. Then, in a few quick and practiced motions, he had his pants undone and his cock in his palm. Just like the rest of him, it was big and even bigger when hard. Considering how he felt himself, Tomura wondered how he managed to keep himself together. ...Age?
He stroked him between his thumb and first two fingers, listening with a definite feeling of pride as his touch made Sensei draw a rough breath. He felt privileged to be allowed to even touch him. Sensei was the worst of the worst, the most vile, the most dangerous. He was a vicious wild animal and Tomura was just a helpless child in comparison to everything that he was, but that inequality didn't penetrate the surface.
Before Sensei could resume control, Tomura lifted his hips, positioned the head of his cock against his entrance, and pressed down.
It wasn't as easy as Sensei led him to believe.
“F-fuck,” he muttered. “Ah- Kinda... It's kind of, uh...”
Sensei was big and he was still too tight. It was a lot different than having just his fingers inside of him, no matter how much he'd worked at him to prepare him for it. Saliva wasn't enough. He could already feel his insides protesting, his entrance stretched raw around him.
Sensei placed his hands back on his thighs and ran one of his hands around behind him to touch the place where they were connected. “Looks like you already need my help. Not a problem. No need to panic.”
Who said he was panicking? He wasn't...
His body sure tightened up when Sensei moved his hips, though. Sensei's arms went around him and he held him against his chest, hushing him gently as he pulled him down the rest of the way, slowly, slowly planting him completely in his lap. Once it was all inside, Tomura's legs were shaking and he had no idea what to do with his hands, but he felt very comfortable against Sensei's chest.
“Take your time. Move at your own pace,” Sensei told him, caressing his lower back.
Tomura's cock twitched again as if it were oblivious to the painful burning of his stretched skin. He wanted to start moving, but even the slightest move made the ache spread. It actually felt pretty good to stay still and just enjoy the feeling of Sensei's huge cock inside of him. It made him moan to feel him rubbing up against all of his most sensitive places. When Sensei placed his hand back around him, Tomura instinctively lifted his hips, trying to get more of his hand, but Sensei didn't move with him. Breath stalling on his tongue, Tomura pressed back down, taking him back in all the way.
Unexpectedly... It didn't hurt – not as much as he thought it would. The things Sensei was doing with his hand probably had something to do with it. As he slid his hand over his cock, wet with precum, his nerves were unraveling, his body becoming relaxed again, growing accustomed to the pain. He knew he might regret it later, but it was just starting to feel good, and he didn't want to abandon that feeling.
Knowing how much Sensei enjoyed listening to him, he didn't hold back his voice, letting every ragged gasp go free as he struggled to move his hips.
His struggle was the source of Sensei's pleasure. He should've been mad about that or something, but it felt encouraging to see the red in his face no matter how it got there. Planting a few messy kisses to his face, Tomura moved more, suddenly finding it easier to lift his hips. He pulled up almost all the way, just the head of his cock remaining inside, then went back down a little at a time.
“Fuck... Feels good, Sensei,” he said, his words shaped around a moan.
“It does,” Sensei agreed, giving him another kiss.
Tomura was so happy.
Gradually, his pace became more rhythmic, taking him in and out with short rolls of his hips. From the moment it began, that pace was already falling apart, becoming sloppier and sloppier until he was practically grinding himself on top of his cock, pressing up into Sensei's hand. He knew that he should be putting in more effort, but it was hard to follow a pattern, let alone think while he had Sensei inside of him, the feeling of him rubbing against his inner walls turning his brain to mush.
He was totally lost in the feeling until he felt Sensei's hands on his chest. He knew that was one of his weak spots...
His fingers closed around his nipples and squeezed, forcing Tomura to cry out loudly. It was too much. If he kept doing that...
Sensei didn't stop. He pinched them, rolled them between his fingers, rubbed his thumbs over them. It was enough to make Tomura stop what he was doing and had him melting beneath his touch. A shudder that began at the base of his spine worked its way throughout his body. His cock was responding, twitching eagerly, but Sensei was totally focused on what he was doing, too busy to place his hands anywhere else. Tomura could have touched himself, but his body felt paralyzed. He couldn't lift a hand.
“You're close, aren't you?” Sensei asked, persistently rubbing his thumbs over his nipples.
His chest felt past the point of sensitive. It was almost getting painful, but Tomura didn't want to tell him to stop. Unable to form words, he moaned and twisted his body, unsure of what he wanted. He could hear the messy, vulgar sounds produced between their bodies and could hear his own lewd gasping, and he wondered if Sensei was enjoying it as much as he was.
Finally, Sensei relented, moving his hands to his sides. “You can't come just yet,” he said, pressing his fingers into his skin, letting him feel the bite of his nails. “It's my turn now, Tomura.”
Even if he said that, Tomura didn't think he could stop himself from coming if he wanted to. He was already feeling tight inside, his body drawn tight, ready to release. All he could do was lean himself limply against Sensei's chest, letting out unrestrained moans against his shoulder as Sensei held his hips and started moving.
The raw ache was still there, but it was far overshadowed by the pleasure he was feeling. The stuffy heat of the room made it difficult to breathe and his head felt foggier with every straining breath. At that moment, he was glad that he didn't need words. His body was able to speak for him; his skin flushed red, sweat rolling down the side of his face, his hair clinging to his forehead.
“My beautiful boy,” Sensei purred, nuzzling Tomura's sweat-slick cheek.
That was it. It was too much. He couldn't take it anymore.
Hearing him talk like that sent Tomura over the edge straight away. It blind-sided him, making his brain feel all scrambled up. He felt nothing but pure pleasure, the sort that tore through him, ripping everything else away, that spread white light across the backs of his eyelids. The seconds spent in that pure, enveloping light had to be heaven.
Even as he came, Sensei continued to thrust into him, pulling him down onto his lap, guiding his hips with his strong hands. Tomura questioned how much more he could withstand. If he passed out, he didn't doubt that Sensei would stop, but he also couldn't bring himself to say that he couldn't take it anymore. Part of him masochistically enjoyed going beyond his limit.
His body was probably too tight for Sensei. He tried to relax, but each renewed thrust slammed into that one spot and had him tensing up all over again. He felt too exhausted to get aroused again, but he could feel the embers smoldering in the pit of his stomach.
“Please,” Tomura mumbled. He wasn't sure what he was asking for anymore, but he trusted that Sensei would know.
“Where do you want it?”
...Was that a real question?
That was a real question. Tomura could tell. Sensei was always serious.
Swallowing, he urged his voice to work. “I-inside,” he croaked.
Sensei picked up his pace, lifting him like he was a light little toy, slamming him down onto his cock. At the back of his mind, Tomura thought about how hard it was going to be to walk when he was through with him. His insides were going to be pulverized and his legs were going to be jello.
A sweet, enduring pain like that was worth it.
He tried to match his movements but could barely move within Sensei's firm grasp. The sounds of their breaths blurred with the sound of his own heart pounding furiously in his ears, growing louder as Sensei's pace became erratic. Tomura knew what was coming and he couldn't help how excited it made him feel. Leaning back, he clutched his ankles and clenched his muscles around the cock inside of him, making himself tighter for Sensei at his penultimate thrust.
With his next thrust, Tomura could feel his cock jerking inside of him, felt hot, wet warmth spreading in his lower belly. A moment like that was perfect. Flawless. He wished that he could make it keep going endlessly, but its temporary nature was part of what made it so great.
Before he could move, Sensei leaned back, reaching over to his desk, and grabbed a few tissues. The front of his suit was a mess, but he did his best to clean them up anyway. When he finally helped Tomura off of him, he handed him a few as well.
“Just have these on your desk, huh?” Tomura said, his smirk audible in his voice. “You get bored while you're alone? I bet you think about me.” He got off his lap and stood. As soon as he was standing, cum rolled down his thigh and some dripped onto the floor. It was gross but super hot. He cleaned only what he could reach, enjoying the thought of having some still inside.
After Sensei fastened his pants and neatened his suit, Tomura found where he dropped his belt and handed it back to him.
Sensei touched his wrist as he accepted it from him, sliding the tips of his fingers over the back of his hand.
“You wouldn't be wrong,” he said. “You're always on my mind.”
Such a dangerous old man. He'd always been like that. It just seemed to get worse with age. “You know how to make a boy blush,” Tomura mumbled, sliding away to go find his own clothes. As he searched the dark room and retrieved his shirt and pants, he glanced back over his shoulder at Sensei. It was a wonder how that man could move him without even leaving his chair. “Hey, uh... Thank you... Sensei.”
“No need for thanks when the feeling is mutual, my boy.”
Damn, he could go all night. He had a whole supply of charming comebacks.
Tomura took a glance at the clothes in his hand and dropped them. “You said I could stay with you tonight, right? Does that mean you have a place to sleep around here?”
“I do indeed,” he replied.
The whole night was theirs. He thought it'd be fine if he never saw the light of day again.
“Then let's get comfortable.”