The Art of Listening

Chapter 7 - The Taste of Your Lips

Izuku

The tension that had been building all week in Izuku's muscles relaxed despite the wild beating of his heart. A slick sheen of sweat coated his heaving chest. His mind was blank, numb, and the only way he could think to describe the sensations he was feeling was white. Pure white, blindingly so, like light so bright that made it impossible to see.

Katsuki was in class. Izuku was alone in his dorm with the door locked and his hearing aids up as high as possible without hurting him. It was early, and he had a golden opportunity to take some time to himself to work out a few issues.

Ever since that day when Katsuki had tackled him in the park, he couldn't stop thinking about the other. The way his hips straddled Izuku as he pinned him. The tight hold of his eyes on Izuku. God, he wanted it all. He wanted every tantalizing feature that made up Katsuki. But seeing as how their date wasn't for another three days... And while this was a first date and nothing was set in stone, Izuku's brain had decided to literally screw him over. He'd had a wet dream in the early hours of the morning featuring no one other than Katsuki.

Dream Kacchan pinned him against the wall, his hands raised above his head. The blond's lips were pressed to the juncture between Izuku's neck and collarbone. He whispered sweet nothings to Izuku, calling him Bunny while his other hand dipped dangerously lower and lower until...

Izuku's alarm went off, the strong vibrations of the deaf/hard of hearing device signalling him to get up for his daily run. He'd woken with a start, his hand frantically searching for the off switch. And once the device was shut off, he groaned and bemoaned the end of his dream. He had wished it was all true, but he was always met with the cold reality that it was, in fact, not. He was alone in his bed.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

That wet dream wasn't the first he'd had. He lamented their loss every time he woke up, but he was sure that it wasn't going to be the last. It was, however, the first one Izuku had actually given in to.

He was now sprawled out on his bed, a towel beneath him and his legs spread wide. One hand palmed his erection slowly while the other, slicked with lube, teased his entrance with slow, circular motions. Tentatively, he slipped one finger in. With gentle ministrations, he worked himself open. Soft keening noises emanated from him, and soon enough, he was able to get a second finger in, down to his knuckles. His fingertips brushed his prostate in an almost teasing manner, sending tingles of anticipation down his spin. A soft moan escaped Izuku's lips as he worked on scissoring himself open. He made quick work of it, his body aching to get to his main goal.

When he removed his fingers with a pronounced whimper, he felt jarringly empty. He was turned on and needy, his nerves around his body alive with arousal. He released his dick from his grasp. On the bed beside him, was a medium-sized, silicone dildo. Izuku slicked it with lube before he placed the tip at his entrance. Slowly, he pressed in, his body tensing around it. The stretch burned, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. On the contrary, he did this more than the average person, probably. At least once or twice a day. But the sensations never got old. On the contrary, it got better coming straight into it from the half-baked arousal from a wet dream. The only way he could think to make anything better was to have Katsuki involved. But he didn't want to rush things.

Once the dildo was seated firmly in his ass, Izuku relaxed once more. He took his length into his palm again, stroking it as he slowly slid the dildo in and out. It only took him a moment to find his prostate with the tip of the toy, and after that, he made sure to hit it with each languid shift of his hand. With each plunge of the toy and each stroke of his hand, loud, lewd moans filled the dorm.