Because I can.

It’s well past midnight when Hizashi corners Aizawa in the staff room — papers stacked high, coffee gone cold, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. Exactly how Hizashi likes him: raw around the edges, easier to push until he breaks.

Aizawa glares when Hizashi crowds into his space, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of him. “Hizashi. I’m working.”

Hizashi hums, leaning in so close Aizawa can feel the grin against his neck. “Yeah? Looks like you’re about to pass out on these essays. Let me help you relax, Shouta.”

Aizawa starts to snap back — but Hizashi’s already hooking his fingers into his scarf, dragging him forward until he’s perched on the edge of the desk. The neat stacks of graded papers crumple under his thighs, but Aizawa’s too busy sucking in a sharp breath when Hizashi noses at his jaw.

“You’re insufferable,” Aizawa mutters, but it’s breathless when Hizashi’s teeth scrape under his ear.

“And you love me for it,” Hizashi purrs, warm fingers popping the button on Aizawa’s pants, pushing them open and down to his thighs. Aizawa’s cock is already half-hard, flushed at the tip and leaking onto his uniform.

Hizashi lets out a low whistle. “Look at you — all scary for the kids, but dripping for me the second I touch you.”

Aizawa grits his teeth, but when Hizashi slides closer, pressing his hips forward, the words crumble. Hizashi’s cock is still trapped behind tight black leather — snug enough to show every curve and bulge, the cool slick material dragging against Aizawa’s bare length.

Aizawa shudders at the first grind — the smooth, slick drag of leather delicious and maddening. “Fuck— Hizashi—”

“Aw, listen to you,” Hizashi laughs, rolling his hips slow and mean so the head of his cock drags right over Aizawa’s leaking slit. The leather creaks softly as he ruts against him, the friction raw and teasing.

“You like that?” Hizashi purrs, voice dropping low and wicked. “Grinding all over my leather like some needy thing? Bet you wanna feel it for real, huh? Skin on skin?”

Aizawa tries to glare, but it’s ruined by the way his hips jerk up for more. “Stop— ngh— stop talking—”

“No chance,” Hizashi grins. He shifts back just enough to pop open the fly on his leather pants. The zipper slides down with a rough sound, and he shoves the snug material down just far enough to free himself — cock flushed deep red, leaking precome that smears against Aizawa’s belly as he pushes back in.

“Better, yeah?” Hizashi growls, voice thick now. He grabs Aizawa’s hips, pulls him forward until their cocks are pressed tight together — bare skin-on-skin at last, the wet heat of it making Aizawa gasp, fingers curling tight in Hizashi’s shirt.

“Fuck— Hizashi—” Aizawa tries to scold him but all that comes out is a broken moan when Hizashi rolls his hips. The slick slide of their cocks together is filthy, head-on-head, precum smeared messily between their bellies.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Hizashi murmurs against Aizawa’s ear. “All spread out for me, making a mess of your desk. Maybe I should keep you here all night — just keep rubbin’ you raw till you can’t stand.”

Aizawa’s eyes flutter, hips jerking up helplessly. Hizashi grins, presses down harder, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the quiet room.

“Hizashi— please—” Aizawa gasps, voice cracking. His thighs tremble where they’re braced wide on the desk, cock twitching every time Hizashi ruts their lengths together.

“Yeah? Please what? Use your words,” Hizashi growls, his hand wrapping around both of them now, squeezing just enough to make Aizawa gasp.

“Need— need to come— please—” Aizawa stammers, voice rough, half-growled through grit teeth.

Hizashi nips his jaw, strokes them rougher, faster. “Good boy. Be good and come for me — make a fuckin’ mess for me, pretty boy.”

Aizawa breaks with a ragged sound, his back arching off the desk, cock jerking in Hizashi’s hand as he spills hot and messy between them. Hizashi ruts through it, groaning against his neck as he comes too, cock pulsing against Aizawa’s, spilling all over his lover’s belly and his own abs.

They stay there a moment — Aizawa panting, Hizashi leaning in to lap at the sweat and come slick on Aizawa’s throat.

When Hizashi pulls back, he grins down at the mess they’ve made: Aizawa spread out on the staff desk, half-undressed, uniform ruined, cock still twitching soft against his thigh.

“Guess I’m doing your laundry again, huh?” Hizashi says with a wicked grin.

Aizawa scowls half-heartedly, hair stuck to his cheek. “Shut up. Clean me up first.”

Hizashi laughs, licking a stripe up his jaw. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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