Count To Ten - KiriBaku

Six.

POV: Bakugo

Warning: Sexual content

Six hours pass. I'm still in Kirishima's room.

He was unconscious for an hour, in which time I managed to clean his cuts, bandage them up, and mop the floor of the main room. It still looked a tad worse for wear, but Kiri was more of a priority.

When he woke up, he immediately met my eyes, and observed me blankly for a full minute before coughing up mucus and scowling.

"What are you... doing here?"

I started. Never before had he looked at me with contempt, but this was more than that. This was hatred. "Eiji, I... I'm so – "

"Sorry?" He interrupted. "Yeah, sure you are. Honestly, Bakugo, you could have had more respect for me while you were... you know. Rejecting me."

His voice was patchy from disuse, but so clearly his. His right hand moved to my wrist, and I felt the electricity I thought I felt with Midoriya, the same electricity I'd felt that day in the cafeteria, when I thought of a life with him.

Kirishima smiled as I blushed, and moved his hand farther up my arm.

Then, he fell unconscious again.

Now, five hours later, the stench of vomit and blood and piss is becoming too much for me. I take Kirishima's ragdoll-like body in my arms, move him to the couch, and begin to swap out his stained, dirty black shirt for a clean, white, baggy one. As I lift it over his head, I try to ignore the fact that he's wearing no underwear. No underwear. My face grows hot as I try not to look at his member, feeling my own perk up as I finally give in and sneak a glance. Now's not the time for that, though. I take a deep breath and slip the shirt over his head.

Still, as I remove the dirty sheets from his bed and lay him back down, the arousal stirring in the back of my mind and in my abdomen becomes too much for me to ignore. The one look I got was enough to remind me of the day I spent with him, sheltered from the warm afternoon sun in my dorm, clothes off, our sounds of pleasure flowing through the rooms like a piano melody would through the echoing halls of a spotless mansion. I try to pick up a broom to distract myself, but at this point, my hands are shaking too much and the memories are too vivid for me to ignore.

As quietly as I can, I stumble to the bathroom, pull down my pants, and begin to satisfy the lust of my dirty, dirty mind and body.

Saliva fills my mouth and I pant as quietly as I can to supress the moans that wish to escape from my mouth. My arm moves mechanically, and I don't quite care how much I may hurt myself. The sadistic side of me wishes I'd move with even more abandon; feel as much satisfying pain as possible.

Just as a stream of pearly, white cum notifies me that I'm thoroughly satisfied, I hear a cough from the next room, followed by a hoarse voice calling my name.

Shit. Kirishima.

I rush to his bedside and take his hands.