Work Text:
Katsuki tightens the belt of his trench coat as he approaches the front door of the house that looks much nicer than he expected given who made the call to book his services this evening. He’s only had a former classmate call for his side business once before, so it’s nothing new, per se, but it is unusual.
Typically, it’s lonely housewives that want to stir up some jealousy in their boring ass marriages. Occasionally, it’s a closeted salaryman letting himself explore his sexuality by looking but not touching. Once it was a prank that Denki thought was absolutely hilarious, but jokes on him because Katsuki got paid and even got laid, something that wasn’t ever on the table when working for a stranger. Needless to say, he didn’t stay mad at the idiot for long.
Shinsou, however, was the last person he expected to call asking for a sexy house cleaning. Katsuki gets along well with Shinsou, but he never really picked up any ‘I want to watch you clean my house while I drool over your body’ vibes from the caffeine-fueled insomniac. But he paid the premium price, so he’s here at a time much too close to his bedtime, ready to face the horrors behind the front door.
“A real pigsty, huh?” Katsuki repeats Shinsou’s words from their call under his breath as he looks the home up and down. The exterior of the house is well cared for with a charming little garden and a cozy shelter for stray cats. Katsuki can make it work with his mental image of his former classmate. A little unexpected, but that’s always how he’s been. He keeps his cards close to his chest and Katsuki finds himself excited to take a peek at his hand.
Katsuki knocks hard on the thick oak door. He hadn’t expected to see Shinsou living so large. He figured he’d be roughing it in an apartment complex that the city should probably condemn, complete with landlord-special white walls and tacky stick-on tile flooring. The house before him, and the whole neighborhood, really, have an air of sophistication and old money. Maybe the mind freak is a secret millionaire, inheriting a nice home from his folks and letting his bad habits fill the rooms with filth.
A flash of blurry purple quickly appears behind the glass of the door before it swings open. Shinsou smiles at him sinfully, a wicked uptick of the corner of his mouth, and he doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes give him a full scan. There’s not much to ogle at. Katsuki learned pretty quickly that walking past other homes in nothing but spandex shorts draws too much unwanted attention. It’s his clients who pay to see him, not the nosey ass neighbors.
“I look better if you let me come in,” Katsuki taunts, pulling at the top of his coat to reveal his smooth skin. Just a dusting of body glitter for emphasis really keeps people's attention.
“Right, so listen, I might have lured you here under false pretenses, and I will so pay you extra, okay? So don’t just blow me up but–”
Katsuki’s about to cut off his rambling and demand he get to the point when footsteps echo behind Shinsou, taking his attention away from Katsuki.
“Why would you run off like that to answer my door, Hitoshi? You’ve been acting weird all night and–”
Katsuki freezes as he recognizes the voice of his former sensei, a man he has quite purposely avoided for the last five years, and the gears in his mind start to turn as he pieces things together. The nice home, Shinsou’s ‘false pretenses’, Aizawa Shouta appearing and using the phrase my door.
Katsuki's hands begin to pop and spark before he realizes what he’s doing, which he immediately regrets because now Aizawa is looking at him. A flash of confusion and then recognition flit over Aizawa’s good eye before quickly glancing down, lingering for just a touch too long at the provocative showing of Katsuki’s chest. He quickly gains control of his quirk, grabbing his coat in a futile attempt to cover himself for some modesty.
“Explain,” Katsuki demands at the same time Aizawa looks to Shinsou for clarity.
“Okay, look, listen. I know you’re good at what you do and I know you look good doing it,” Katsuki snorts and begins to turn back to his car. “Bakugou! It’s his birthday, the big four-o, c’mon. Plus, if ya just come inside and look at how he lives, I know you’ll want to fix it.”
Katsuki stops and weighs his options. Work is slow, so Katsuki’s stuck on desk work most of the time and he could really use the extra cash. He doesn’t have another cleaning gig until next week, and his fridge is damn near barren. He turns his head to watch the two over his shoulder.
“Okay, where’s my explanation? What does he do, why is he half naked on my doorstep when you didn’t even bother to tell me anyone was coming over?” Aizawa huffs, arms crossed as he stares down at Shinsou.
Katsuki takes his time to actually look at his former mentor–more done up than he’s ever seen, at least that he can remember. Aizawa’s wearing a black button up with the sleeves rolled up, strong forearms flexing as he and Shinsou go back and forth. He’s got a foxy stripe of grey in his coarse black hair, brushed back into a high ponytail, catching the light of the street lamp across the road. His jaw is sharp, clenching when Shinsou speaks, speckled with a mess he thinly veils as a beard.
He looks downright sinful.
This is a bad idea.
A shiver runs down Katsuki’s spine as he thinks about how close he was to prancing around Aizawa’s house, nearly naked, and how he might actually have trouble focusing with that kind of attention. Aizawa notices, because of course he does, and sighs deeply.
“Look at you, you’re freezing. Come inside, at least. Shinsou can pay you and you can be free of this inconvenience.”
Katsuki doesn’t correct Aizawa on his misunderstanding and he tries to hide the sting he feels when he hears the word ‘inconvenience.’ He squeezes past the two and kicks his shoes off in the genkan, snarling his lip when he sees the disarray of shoes outside of their organizer.
He mumbles his apology for intruding before walking down the entry hall. The space opens up to a large living room and he stops in his tracks, a hard body bumping into him from the abrupt change of pace.
Katsuki jumps and turns around. His heart calms when he sees it's just Shinsou. He tries not to linger on how Shinsou’s hands feel as he holds Katsuki to steady himself. Though really, it’s not hard to ignore when the sheer state of this home holds all of Katsuki’s attention.
Aside from the mess of clothes strung about the living room, there are stacks of nutrition packs and empty cups of ramen covering every flat surface of the room. Katsuki doesn’t even need to fully step in the room to see the layer of dust covering anything that somehow wasn’t a resting place for discarded packaging. The floor looks as if someone’s walked through with muddy boots and given a half-assed attempt to mop it all up.
It’s disgusting. Katsuki’s fingers itch to correct it.
“See? And this is where he relaxes,” Shinsou half-whispers in Katsuki’s ear. “You should see his kitchen, or gods forbid, his bedroom. Really, you’d be committing a crime to leave him in this health hazard he calls a home.”
“Hitoshi,” Aizawa growls out, pushing them both into the living room. “The house is just fine. I’ve just had a rough week. I’ll get things under control soon enough.” Aizawa walks past them both when they refuse to move, pushing some shirts out of the way to take a seat on his couch. He reaches for a box of cigarettes, frowning when he finds it empty. “Hitoshi, pay the problem child and go get me another pack as an apology.”
“Oi, I’m not a child anymore,” Katsuki huffs, unbuttoning the rest of his coat and tossing it on the covered half of the couch. He rolls his shoulders back and looks at Shinsou. “We agreed you’d have cleaning supplies for me?”
Shinsou smiles and claps his hands before rushing out of the room and returning with a basket filled with various sanitizers and cleaning cloths as well as a bucket of sudsy water. Katsuki raises a brow when he finds a small, lacy apron hidden in the basket. Shinsou narrowly avoids confrontation by ducking his head and waltzing over to Aizawa, whose protests are falling on deaf ears.
“Hush, now, Shouta. I paid good money for this, you think that firecracker will just take it as a handout?” Aizawa rolls his eyes and goes to open his mouth again, but Shinsou shuts him up by plucking a cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between the older man’s lips. “Just enjoy the show.”
Katsuki doesn’t miss how Shinsou’s fingers linger on Aizawa’s lips or the unspoken conversation that seems to happen between their locked eyes. Even the way Shinsou produces a lighter out of thin air, flicking the flame to life and allowing Aizawa to inhale the flame, looks obscene. He pushes down the bubbling feelings he can’t quite explain and pulls a trash bag from his basket of supplies, tackling the disgusting heaps of trash first.
Some hushed whispers behind him fill the awkward silence as Katsuki gathers up the garbage, well-trained habits causing him to arch his back as he leans over. Before he knows it, he’s in his zone—effortless sexy energy while cleaning—and he’s losing focus on the two on the couch.
At some point, one of them turns some music on to fill the room, floating through the air like the stench of Aizawa’s cigarette. It’s much better than the awkward crinkle of the trash bag as Katsuki fills it. It’s definitely one of those cheesy sex playlists, the kind some tool puts on before laying mediocre pipe. But it’s something to help get Katsuki out of his mind, and push past that mental barrier of Aizawa watching him half-naked in his house.
That is until a deep groan grabs his attention. Katsuki glances over to see Shinsou massaging his fingers into Aizawa’s shoulders. It doesn’t really distract Katsuki, but it does get him thinking.
As he tosses away stacks of old magazines, he tries to think of anything personal Shinsou has ever let slip in a group outing. Maybe a casual ‘yeah I totally fuck our old homeroom teacher,’ over a bottle of wine. But he comes up blank.
It’s not all that surprising, they’re all adults now after all, but seeing it is something else.
“Aren’t you gonna put on that pretty li’l apron I got you? I know you saw it,” Shinsou teases from across the room. His hand slips under Aizawa’s collar, pushing the fabric away to expose the hairy chest Katsuki’s only caught glimpses of before.
“That thing is shit,” Katsuki retorts. “If you wanted the sexy maid costume, you shoulda said that on the phone.”
“Wait, you actually have one? Would you be willing to go get it? I’ll pay extra, for real, he has a thing for–” Katsuki gives him a teasing look, lip twitching as he holds back a laugh. “Oh, you’re fucking with me. You bitch, I bet you had him all excited,” Shinsou sighs, hands working open a few buttons on Aizawa’s shirt. “He really does have a thing for maids–”
“Hitoshi,” Aizawa hisses, grabbing one of Shinsou’s hands and folding it mercilessly. The cigarette bobs up and down as he speaks. “This is not appropriate,” he mumbles, reaching for the shirt buttons with his free hand. Shinsou pouts.
“So it’s appropriate when you get drunk and talk about how hot Bakugou looks on that billboard by the school?” Shinsou taunts.
Katsuki’s heart skips a beat.
“Hitoshi,” he spits the name like a curse, abandoning the buttons and using his hand to cover the younger man’s mouth.
“While you were getting handsy with me, might I add! Scandalous!” Shinsou yelps, his words muffled. He doesn’t stop trying to talk until Aizawa shoves two fingers into his mouth.
Then Shinsou’s expression changes and he starts to suck.
Katsuki’s nearly forgotten why he’s here. He’s mesmerized by their display. Maybe a little jealous, to be honest. But he’s not sure who he’s jealous of.
…does Aizawa actually think he’s hot?
Aizawa’s blushing red and still yelling at Shinsou, so he doesn’t notice Katsuki finish with the loose trash. His next move is the floor, grabbing a short broom and a dustpan.
Katsuki sweeps at the floors, making a show of bending over to sweep the dust into the pan. He chooses to face away from the two on the couch, but he can feel their eyes on him.
He can hear Aizawa curse under his breath every time he bends over.
One time, after Aizawa lets out a deep moan, Katsuki decides to look back. He sees Shinsou still working his mouth around Aizawa’s fingers, but his own are hidden under Aizawa’s waistband. Aizawa locks eyes with Katsuki, but his eyelid is heavy and there’s a look of unmistakable lust. His lips are now parted, as if they are keeping space for the cigarette, but it’s no longer there.
Katsuki’s just a man, at the end of the day. Between the teasing display Shinsou keeps putting on and the bubbling feelings of an old crush fluttering every time Aizawa locks eyes with him, he can feel blood rushing south.
“Bakugou, you can leave–” he tries to say, but Katsuki cuts him off.
“Do I look uncomfortable to you?” he asks, hands trailing down his body, cupping his obvious bulge. Aizawa licks his lips, his eyes darting between Katsuki’s hand and his eyes. “You should teach your little boyfriend to use his words. If I knew it was a surprise party for Sensei, I woulda got all done up for ya. Maybe even shown up in a li’l school girl skirt.”
Aizawa groans, his head flopping back as Shinsou works his way into the crook of his neck. He bites Aizawa’s neck, earning a hiss before he sucks. Katsuki usually doesn’t get distracted while he works–this isn’t even the first time he’s performed for an audience that’s more preoccupied with each other–but right now, cleaning is the last thing on his mind.
“The floors,” Aizawa chokes out. He sounds wrecked from just a little bit of heavy petting, and it sends Katsuki into a frenzy in his mind. “Right over here. Could use some cleaning,” he finishes.
Ahh. Katsuki doesn’t need to be told twice.
He decides to crawl towards his former teacher on all fours, like a predator stalking his prey. Once he’s in arm’s length, he makes a show of turning around and reaching in the bucket of suds. He finds a rag that he wrings out, soapy water clingy to him and running down his forearms.
Katsuki arches his back, ass up in the air for Aizawa and Shinsou to get a good view. It’s not the most effective method, cleaning floors with a soapy rag. From the smell, Katsuki thinks Shinsou supplied him with a bucket of dish soap and water. But after a closer inspection, the house truly isn’t that dirty. The trash was ridiculous and there’s dirt here and there, but it actually does seem like it's just been a week or two of neglect.
He was truly hired to give a good show.
Given how much money Shinsou gave him? Give a good show, he will. Katsuki rolls his hips and stays on his knees as he cleans the floor around him. A glance back affirms all the attention is on him, two blushing men as they touch each other but still transfixed by Katsuki’s backside. It’s all the encouragement he needs to step it up a notch.
He moves the bucket and turns towards them, catching them in the middle of a sloppy kiss. His movements knock them out of their fixation, though, immediately glued on Katsuki again. He dips the towel in the bucket, but this time, he wrings out the excess water over his chest. Soapy bubbles and water follow paths of muscles down his torso, soaking the tight shorts he’s squeezed into before dripping between his legs.
Katsuki slides his knees apart until he’s practically in a split, his half-hard cock pressed into the hardwood. He rolls his hips again, shuddering as he grinds against the solid floor, dragging the rag up his body and squeezing it again.
“Fuck, Bakugou,” Shinsou moans. He’s grinding into Aizawa’s hand at the same pace as Katsuki, biting his lips when Aizawa squeezes him. “You look like sin.”
“Pot, kettle,” Katsuki huffs. The hornier he gets, the easier it is to say what he’s thinking. Aizawa’s eye stays trained on Katsuki, even when Shinsou finally fishes the old man’s cock out of his slacks.
Aizawa looks like something far worse than sin–something that will do more than damn Katsuki’s soul for eternity. Like he won’t be able to touch himself without thinking of that unbuttoned shirt showing off that mess of black hair on Aizawa’s chest… without thinking about that heavy cock and Shinsou’s hand running up and down it, pulling down the uncut foreskin with each stroke. And worst yet, there’s no god to pray to for forgiveness.
But Katsuki can stay on his knees, anyway.
He forces himself to pretend to clean again. It’s worse with the water cooling his skin down, his nipples standing hard at attention along with a million goosebumps. He turns again to face away from them and jumps when a hand reaches out and grips at his hip.
“How much to touch?” It’s Shinsou, then. That makes sense. Aizawa seems to be warming up to this whole thing, but he doesn’t seem like the type to make the first move here. Katsuki’s heart settles back down from his throat.
“How much is it worth to ya?” Katsuki snaps back, turning his head to sneak a glance at Shinsou from over his shoulder. He can see Aizawa’s touching himself now, given Shinsou’s hands are too busy on him.
“Don’t act like I’m the only one getting something out of it. You’ll get to feel so good, baby, trust me.”
Acting so familiar with a pet name like that should piss Katsuki off. Instead, it just makes his cock twitch with interest.
“Don’t act like I’m that easy. Gotta put some work in if you’re gonna hold up to that claim.”
It’s bullshit, honestly. Katsuki’s so turned on right now the wind could blow sideways and he’d cum. But it's not his fault! What else is a guy supposed to feel when the first awakening of his wet dreams is sitting two feet away, jacking himself off as he watches Katsuki with rosy cheeks?
“So you’re saying I can put in the work,” Shinsou responds cooly, either unaware of Katsuki’s sexual awakening coming to life or just outright ignoring it. “Maybe if I make you see stars, you can let Shouta have a freebie?”
Before Katsuki can laugh at the ridiculous proposal or say something embarrassing about Aizawa getting whatever he wants, Shinsou hooks his fingers under Katsuki’s waistband. He tugs the tight shorts down, just enough to tuck them under Katsuki’s ass cheeks, his cock still trapped in the spandex.
“Oh, what a beautiful surprise,” Shinsou gasps, spreading Katsuki’s cheeks apart. “Mmm, did you come prepped, Bakugou? Any expectations in mind?”
He’s referring to the plug nestled between Katsuki’s cheeks, the classic kind with a gemstone on the end. Katsuki only regrets choosing the purple one. If he had known this was Aizawa’s surprise, not Shinsou, he would’ve chosen something more personalized. Maybe a golden yellow, to match Aizawa’s eyes when they glow, or his iconic goggle mask he wears while working.
Katsuki’s scoffs. “I don’t sleep with clients,” he says, leaving off the ‘usually,’ so he doesn’t sound too desperate.
Sue him. He thought about fucking Shinsou while he was here. It’s been a while and as far as he knows, the guy’s a good lay. He isn’t too close to Katsuki to make things awkward. And, until tonight, Katsuki figured the guy was single. Now though… well, you don’t have this level of familiarity with a former teacher you’re just sleeping with.
“Oh really? A little birdie told me that’s not true,” Shinsou continues. “Said his clean sheets ruined the total package he bought, so you offered to make ‘em dirty with him… isn’t that right?”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill Pikachu, I swear,” Katsuki curses, but then a low groan slips out when Hitoshi presses on the flared end of the plug.
“Bakugou,” Aizawa says, his voice deep and tight, like he’s close to snapping. “Do your cleaning services include this?” He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, a long string of pre clinging as he pulls his thumb away.
Katsuki flushes more than he may ever have in his life. He thought Aizawa was warming up, but he didn’t expect him to become so… Obvious or bold. Katsuki swallows down the lump in his throat and nods once, not trusting his voice.
The couple gesture to their laps at the same time and Katsuki briefly wonders if they’ve done this sort of thing before and, if so, who with? He crawls up as sexily as one can crawl onto a couch, settling with his head in Aizawa’s lap while straddling Shinsou’s, his twitching cock pressed into his thigh.
Shinsou massages Katsuki’s ass, his excitement tangible by the way he squeezes and tugs. Aizawa, however, is more patient. He cups Katsuki’s face with his calloused hand, tilting his chin until they’re face to face.
“Bakugou,” he starts.
“Katsuki,” Katsuki corrects. If he’s close enough to smell Aizawa’s dick, he’s earned his first name being used.
“Katsuki,” Aizawa continues. Okay, bad idea on Katsuki’s part. He didn't actually expect to hear his given name spoken in such a sinful manner. “Just because Hitoshi paid you doesn’t mean you have to do this. We can stop at any time. You’ve indulged me plenty.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Listen, I appreciate that and all, but you can’t just wave your dick in front of me and expect me to back down from sucking it, Sensei.”
Aizawa looks to be the flushed one now. “Shouta,” he corrects.
Fuck.
“Shouta,” Katsuki repeats, his voice nearly cracking with nerves.
“Good boy,” Aizawa purrs. He rubs his thumb across Katsuki’s cheek until it hooks on his bottom lip. “Can I kiss you, Katsuki?”
Katsuki can’t nod fast enough. Aizawa pulls him close, capturing him in a kiss so tender it catches Katsuki off guard. Their lips slot together and they both groan, the taste of smoke and the scratch of stubble clouding Katsuki’s mind. He’s only brought back to the present when Shinsou interrupts.
“Katsuki~,” he sings. “Can I eat your ass?”
Aizawa smiles into the kiss, and Katsuki pulls away to cuss Shinsou out for being insufferable, but Aizawa hooks a hand behind Katsuki’s head and doesn’t let him escape, deepening their kiss with a tilt of his head, licking against Katsuki’s mouth.
Katsuki lets him in without a moment of hesitation. He shifts himself up so he can rub a hand over Aizawa’s chest, nestling into the shirt that hangs loosely on his shoulders still. He moans when Aizawa’s fingers scratch against his scalp.
“Mmm, I’ll take that as a yes,” Shinsou hums as he also shifts himself.
Katsuki’s too distracted to figure out how Shinsou arranged himself, but it doesn’t take long until he feels the plug being worked out of his ass, leaving him slightly gaped and clenching around nothing.
But then there’s something hot and wet burying into him and flicking with expertise. Katsuki moans into the never ending kiss, rolling his hips back into Shinsou’s face. He eats like a man starved, sloppy and desperate, and Katsuki can feel himself tightening like a rubber band stretched between the patient tug of Aizawa and the eager yank of Shinsou.
Finally, he has to pull himself away from Aizawa, lips tingly and a bit of drool trailing down his chin. He works to catch his breath and the older man seems to do the same, resting with his forehead pressed to Katsuki’s. Shinsou, however, doesn’t get the memo and continues to devour Katsuki, slipping a finger in alongside his thumb and feeling around like he’s trying to make a map of Katsuki’s hole.
Katsuki gives Aizawa a pleading look, but the older man looks just as wrecked. He uses the leverage he has on Katsuki’s neck to guide him down until he’s eye level with Aizawa’s cock. It looks like it aches, the reddish-purple head twitching when Katsuki breathes against it. This close, Katsuki can see the bulging veins running up the side and he doesn’t think twice before darting his tongue out, following the line like he’s got his own map to study.
Katsuki finds the path leads to treasure as he tastes the salty proof of Aizawa’s arousal. He moans at the taste, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the head. The saltiness floods his tongue and he swallows it all down until all that’s left is the taste of skin. Only a hint of musk. Katsuki can tell by the state of his pubes—well trimmed—he had expected lips around his cock tonight.
It’s a thrill to know he hadn’t expected Katsuki’s lips, though,
Shinsou’s worked two spit-soaked fingers inside of him now, massaging his walls in search of his prostate. Katsuki takes calming breaths through his nose and swallows down Aizawa’s cock inch by inch.
Aizawa curses under his breath when Katsuki gets halfway down, so he takes that as a sign to pull back up. He wraps his hand around the shaft and squeezes, dragging his fist in the opposite motion from his mouth. It works in his favor, rolling the extra skin down and fully exposing the head.
Katsuki swirls his tongue around and Aizawa lets out a mean hiss. He must be sensitive because when Katsuki closes his mouth and sucks, Aizawa grabs a handful of hair at the base of Katsuki’s neck and pulls him off.
Katsuki turns his head to confront Aizawa and demand that he leave him to complete his work, but one look at the man and he can see he was a breath away from blowing his load.
“Didn’t take you as a quick shot, Sen—Shouta,” Katsuki teases with a feral grin. “It’s okay, I know I’m probably better than you’re used to—”
His taunts die in his throat when Shinsou sneaks in a third finger and targets Katsuki’s prostate like a heat-seeking missile.
“Fuckin’ bastard,” Katsuki curses, looking over his shoulder to see Shinsou looking much too smug. “Thought you were lost in there.”
“Oh, baby, I just wanted to make you desperate for it. It worked, didn’t it?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and shudders when Shinsou hits it again cruelly. Katsuki looks at Aizawa again, looking more composed now but undoubtedly enjoying himself.
“Is he always this fucking insufferable?”
Aizawa laughs and in the heat of the moment, it actually catches Katsuki off guard because he’s so… cute. But then his lips split into an evil smirk, using his hold to press Katsuki’s face between his legs, not stopping until Katsuki’s cheek squishes against his balls, his spit-soaked cock making a mess of Katsuki’s face and hair.
“I would hope so, he learned from the best,” Aizawa chuckles.
He hooks a thumb behind Katsuki’s bottom teeth and tugs his jaw open. Katsuki goes slack into the touch, flopping out his tongue as Aizawa pulls him even closer, feeding one of his balls into Katsuki’s mouth. The couple must share some sort of communication or just that weird connection between two lovers, because their attack feels coordinated.
Shinsou’s hand picks up the pace, pistoning in and out of Katsuki with a steady rhythm. His fingers work with expertise that Katsuki wouldn't expect, but he finds himself wanting and needing it greedily. His walls bend to Shinsou’s whim, allowing him to carve out more space than he already had prepared with his plug.
Aizawa’s boldness continues to grow. As Shinsou explores the insides of Katsuki, the older man feels up the outside. He released his hold of Katsuki’s hair and jaw in favor of rubbing down his shoulders and back, wrapping around his waist and giving a firm squeeze. He even travels further south, grabbing both cheeks of Katsuki’s ass and pulling them apart, as if Shinsou needed to reach any deeper.
But then Aizawa’s hands continue to wander, following the waistband of Katsuki’s shorts, still squeezing around him unforgivingly. His rough fingers glide across Katsuki’s bare skin, tracing the toned muscles leading the way to his neglected cock. When Aizawa finally touches him, Shinsou simultaneously curls his fingers.
Katsuki sees stars.
His head throws back with the pleasure rocketing through him, unable to continue focusing on appreciating Aizawa’s balls. Instinctively, he grabs Aizawa’s wrist, pleas tumbling ungracefully from his mouth.
“Please, fuck, not yet,” Katsuki whines, looking up at his mentor with tears fighting along his waterline. “I saw ‘em, the stars,” he explains. He looks over his shoulder at Shinsou. “He can cash in on that freebie now.”
Shinsou gives him a look that tells Katsuki his desperation is leaking through a bit more than he’d like, but that look transforms into a wide grin. Shinsou gives one sharp smack to Katsuki’s ass before leaning over his body.
Shinsou’s hard cock rubs against Katsuki as he closes the distance between himself and Aizawa, meeting in a soft kiss before whispering something in the older man’s ear. Katsuki can’t make out what’s said, too consumed with the teasing he’s enduring.
Katsuki almost forgets he has his hand wrapped around Aizawa’s wrist until he feels that hold slip. Aizawa slides effortlessly out of his grip until their palms glide together. Aizawa intertwines their fingers and tugs at Katsuki’s hand, pulling him, urging him to come closer.
Hands on his hips also guide him, Shinsou spouting something about how good they look together. Katsuki isn’t really paying attention. The way Aizawa watches him, the way he pulls him into his orbit, it makes Katsuki only notice him.
When Katsuki is finally vertical enough, Aizawa loops his arm around his waist, pulling him into his lap. They both moan when Katsuki settles with Aizawa’s hot cock between his cheeks. They’re face to face now, Aizawa’s face as red as Katsuki's body feels. They couldn’t be closer together, but their lips stay inches apart.
Aizawa leans forward and Katsuki’s eyes flutter close, but Aizawa has other plans. His stubble tickles Katsuki’s neck as he sinks his teeth in, biting hard enough to leave an impression before closing his lips around the bite and giving a testing suck.
Katsuki moans to encourage him, reaching for the hair tie at the top of Aizawa’s head. He pulls it free and slips it on his wrist before tangling his fingers in the mess of hair, using the long locks to hold Aizawa in place.
Katsuki’s desires are heard loud and clear. Aizawa pulls his skin between his teeth, sucking and leaving his mark. Katsuki rocks his hips as he thinks about the proof he’ll leave with—that Aizawa Shouta touched him, kissed him, fucked him. He even tries to angle his hips to get that part of things started, but Aizawa’s hands snake to hold him and stills him with a painful squeeze.
“Fuckin’ please is that what you want to hear?” Katsuki grumbles, trying in vain to move his hips again. “Please, Sensei, I’ve been such a bad student, let me earn extra credit by riding your thick cock,” Katsuki goes on.
Aizawa growls into Katsuki's neck. His fingernails bite into Katsuki’s skin. “Not yet. If you didn’t wear the skirt, you’re not to call me Sensei. I told you what to call me.”
His deep voice vibrates the column of Katsuki’s neck and it makes him shiver with anticipation. Not yet. This isn’t a fever dream or a tease. He’s going to get exactly what he’s dreamed of for years.
“Shouta,” Katsuki says in a breathless whine.
Aizawa pulls away from the crook of Katsuki’s neck and looks at him, pupil blown, before attacking his lips.
This kiss is nothing like the first. It’s hotter, more hungry. All teeth clashing and tongues fighting and the scratch of stubble against Katsuki’s soft skin. It’s nearly feral. It’s desperate…but it’s not just Katsuki who’s close to losing his cool.
“Aren’t you two a pretty sight,” Shinsou interrupts.
Katsuki nearly jumps out of his skin, practically forgetting the other man existed. He turns to look at him. His shirt is as messy as his hair and he’s got his cock in one hand and lube in the other. He tosses the lube to Aizawa, who catches it with no effort, but continues to stand away from them.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, please,” he urges. “Go back to pretending I wasn’t here. I’m going to enjoy the view before I join again.”
The reality that Katsuki’s here for a good time lights up in his mind, but the pop of the lube cap and the cold drizzle between his cheeks snaps him back to only focusing on Aizawa.
Aizawa rocks his cock against Katsuki’s hole, smearing the lube between them. The cold disappears quickly, slick movements allowing heat to pick up quickly. He continues to glide in the same motions.
“Fuck, Shouta,” Katsuki breaks. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Aizawa answers back. “Look at me Katsuki,” he instructs.
They hold eye contact, their lips a breath apart, as Aizawa lifts Katsuki’s hips and slides his cock back. He smears lube along Katsuki’s taint and balls in the process. Then he moves forward again, angling himself just right, until his head hooks on Katsuki’s rim.
Aizawa presses in slowly, agonizing Katsuki with every breath. When the head pops in he stops.
“Why the fuck—”
“Thank Hitoshi,” Aizawa instructs again. “I can tell how ready your hole is for me. Already sucking me in, all because of his hard work. Thank him if you want more.”
“Th-thank you,” Katsuki grits out. He desperately wants to drop his weight and feel that cock deep inside him. He doesn’t want to keep waiting.
“You can do better than that, Katsuki. Didn’t I teach you any manners? What are you thanking him for?”
“For making me ready for your cock, fuck,” Aizawa pushes in an inch.
“For making me feel good, stretching me, oh god,” much more of Aizawa’s cock slips in.
“For asking me to come over, for letting me fuck you, Shouta, I’m gonna—”
“Shhh, not yet,” Aizawa calms him as he presses in another inch. “You’ve almost got the whole thing, baby, keep going.”
Katsuki has to bite his lip to not cum then and there. He turns around, surprised to find Shinsou so close. He’s still touching himself, jerking himself off right beside Katsuki’s face. It’s only now, up close like this, that he notices the rows of jewelry lining the underside of Shinsou’s cock. Katsuki looks up at him, eyes wide and full of lust.
“Thank you for this cock,” he moans. It’s almost all the way in. “Thank you for everything, Hitoshi.”
Three things happen at once. Shinsou curses, cum splattering from his dick all over Katsuki’s face and hair. Aizawa bottoms out, nailing Katsuki’s prostate. And Katsuki cums, completely untouched, his entire body short circuiting.
Aizawa grabs Katsuki’s jaw with one hand, licking up some of the cum before feeding it into Katsuki’s mouth. He works his hips in short, fast thrusts, fucking Katsuki deep and fast. He groans into Katsuki’s lips.
“Not gonna last, you two are too much,” Aizawa moans. “Where should I—”
“Inside,” Shinsou and Katsuki moan at the same time.
Aizawa curses, falling back to hide in Katsuki’s neck again. Shinsou takes the opportunity to take Katsuki’s lips, licking into his mouth, tasting himself on Katsuki’s tongue.
Aizawa bites down on Katsuki’s collarbone as his hips still, his cock buried as deep as it can go, twitching as hot pulses of cum fill Katsuki up. Katsuki squeezes around him, milking him for every drop, before Aizawa falls back onto the couch, pulling Katsuki with him.
Shinsou’s quick to join them. He plops down on the couch beside them, tugging off his shirt. He gently wipes the remaining cum off of Katsuki’s face and hair before using it to swipe away at what mess remains on his dick.
They relax into each other there, limbs tangled in a mess. Aizawa stayed inside of Katsuki, but he can feel his cock softening and cum starting to leak out of him. He complains about the gross feeling, but Shinsou and Aizawa shush him with soft kisses.
“Making messes is literally the opposite of what I came here to do,” Katsuki grunts, but it's hard to have an edge to your words when two men are doing their best to melt you down. He gasps when Aizawa kisses up his neck, biting his earlobe and giving it a tug.
“You’ve cleaned enough in here, let Hitoshi pick up the slack.”
“Hey I paid for him to clean, you clean it up!” Shinsou laughs, launching at Aizawa and hooking his arm around his neck. “Don’t you want your face in some cake for your birthday?”
“Mmm, you have a point, but,” he rolls his hips and Katsuki loses his balance and falls back onto Aizawa’s chest. “I’m still enjoying my gift.”
His cock stirs inside of Katsuki, twitching back to life. Katsuki can feel his body stretching to accommodate the length once again. He plants his hands on Shouta’s chest, matching his motions, helping him get to full hardness as quickly as possible.
“Ever heard of a refractory period, old man? Gonna make me–fuck, right there, gods–’m gonna soil your couch like this. Your cum is–”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck it back in,” Shouta’s voice rumbles in his ear. “Hitoshi can take care of the rest.”
Shinsou stands like it was an order, his hands landing on Katsuki’s shoulders and tracing down his back. He grabs Katsuki’s hips alongside Aizawa’s hold. Aizawa smacks him away with a smile.
“Aht, aht,” he reprimands. “That’s not cleaning. Behave and I’ll put in a good word for you, ask reaaaal nice if our maid can stay the night, let you have a turn.”
Katsuki bites back any snide comments that come to mind. Any show of opposing the idea would backfire… the plug was enough of a signal that Katsuki’s interested. Shinsou tuts but removes his hands, sinking down to the floor.
His breath is hot on Katsuki’s spine before he presses a kiss to his skin. He trails his lips down Katsuki’s spine, clumsy touches as Katsuki continues to bounce on Aizawa’s lap. But then his breath and lips are gone and Aizawa is moaning.
Katsuki glances back to get a glimpse, but Aizawa grabs his chin and turns his face back towards him. Then they’re kissing, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Katsuki greedily swallows every whimper and moan Shinsou pulls out of Aizawa. Aizawa does the same to him when Shinsou’s tongue meets his rim in between thrusts.
The pace is much slower than before, sensual almost. Aizawa’s kisses are deeper and his hold stronger. It feels less like a dirty quick hookup. Pun unintended. It feels… intimate.
Time passes with waves of pleasure, neither fast nor slow. The strokes are long, the pleasure spikes quick. The outside world seems to melt away between Shinsou and Aizawa’s tongue teasing either end of him. Katsuki allows himself to be consumed, taking as much as he gives to them, until Aizawa grunts and pulls out, Shinsou’s hand wrapping around him and coating Katsuki’s ass with his spend.
Then Shinsou’s fingers fill Katsuki’s emptiness, finding that place inside him to see stars again, pushing him to the edge so he can tumble over and follow Aizawa’s lead. Shinsou’s mouth attaches to him in the throes of pleasure, licking him just like before. Only this time, Katsuki knows he’s devouring all the proof of Aizawa.
Between the feelings, knowing how hot Shinsou must look, and seeing the fucked out expression on Aizawa’s face, Katsuki cums again, dry, his chest tight. He shudders through the feelings, clinging to Aizawa like a lifeline. Stubbly lips brush his temple. He’s sweaty and gross, but Aizawa kisses him softly anyway.
Shinsou takes his time massaging Katsuki’s ass, then his lower back, up his spine until he presses his bare chest to Katsuki’s back. They melt into each other again, falling sideways on the couch. It’s too small for three grown men, but Aizawa keeps Katsuki on his chest and Shinsou curls up tight by their side.
The electricity in the air has calmed, but Katsuki can still feel a hint of hunger between them all. Some version of calm before the storm, but it’s post storm at the same time? Katsuki’s too blissed out for a proper analogy, content to relax for a moment.
Eventually, he has to move, though, to avoid his skin becoming permanently fused to theirs. Katsuki sits up and does his best to stand, but two different hands grab each of his wrists.
“Off so soon?” Aizawa hums, bringing Katsuki’s knuckles to his lips. It’s another gesture that’s just a bit more tender than one would expect from something casual.
“Surely not,” Shinsou answers for him, tugging him back. “He still has a job to do, right, Bakugou?”
“Katsuki,” Katsuki corrects shyly.
“Katsuki,” Shinsou purrs in response. “I paid for a full package,” Shinsou chimes in. “That doesn’t just mean the living room, does it?”
“Maybe,” Katsuki teases. “I did a lot more in this room than most of my high paying customers get. Depends on what the full package means to you two.”
He’s testing the waters. Tonight wasn’t like hookups Katsuki’s had in the past. One night stands don’t kiss your knuckles as they beg you to fall back into their arms. They don’t look at you like Shinsou and Aizawa look at Katsuki. Most of all, they don’t have sparks dancing under Katsuki’s fingertips every time he touches their skin.
“Staying the night,” Shinsou answers.
“Breakfast in the morning,” Aizawa continues.
“A date?” Shinsou asks, less confident. Like he’s also testing the waters.
“Or a few. If that’s extra, I’ll pay whatever it takes,” Aizawa sits up, kissing Katsuki’s cheek.
“Tempting offer. Would all those dates be on this couch?”
“Heavens no,” Shinsou responds. He slides his way over on the couch, trapping Katsuki between the two. “He’s got a nice kitchen, the counter is just the right height for a good fuck. And the bedroom, obviously. If you’re a good boy we can play in the sex dungeon–”
Aizawa smacks the back of Shinsou’s head.
“Ow! I’m joking! Sorta.”
Katsuki laughs. “So, a friends with benefits kinda deal?” He hopes they don’t catch the dismay he feels. .
Aizawa grabs Katsuki’s chin, looking at him seriously.
“Is that what you would want?”
There’s a reason Katsuki’s avoided Aizawa for so long. He can’t deny the feelings he has for his former sensei, and he can’t lie to the guy either. A terrible recipe.
“No,” he admits. Shinsou rests his chin on Katsuki’s shoulder.
“So we could take you out proper? Show you off a bit?” He kisses Katsuki’s collarbone. “Go out to a fancy restaurant, then show off the sex dungeon.” “There is no sex dungeon,” Aizawa says with a sigh.
“He’s trying not to scare you off,” Shinsou whispers in his ear. It makes Katsuki smile.
“I think I could work up a custom, exclusive deal for you then. Impress me and it’s free of charge.”
Both men smile at him, their hands finding purchase on either of his thighs.
“What about tonight?” Aizawa asks. “Would you mind staying?”
“Could get you out of those filthy shorts, maybe run a load of laundry. You still have a chance to put on the apron and make the birthday boy’s dream come true.” Shinsou teases. “Clean one more room with our… supervision,” he adds with a wink.
Katsuki grins. “What room would you like me to clean while the laundry runs?”
Both men lean forward, kissing either side of his neck before simultaneously whispering in his ears, “the bedroom, of course.”