The small sharp ache of his lip is nothing compared to the expansive aches lingering like bruises where Paul meets him. They collude to make his scalp tingle and his skin shiver. Feeling Paul's pleasure trapped between them and inviting his own hips to rock against him, Midoriya wants to ask if this is too much for where and when they are. Paul's hand works over hard-earned muscle, and he kisses him like that... Midoriya has his answer, and it is a humming call.
He extricates himself from Paul’s mouth, lips overly warm, slick, and softened. He marks a damp trail along his jaw and comes to his destination at the enticing line of Paul's neck. There he plants his mark, sucks and teases it with his teeth, and signs his handiwork with a parting lave of his tongue.
He relents the press of their bodies only enough to run his hand down his front, this time slowly, letting his thumb draw carefully-applied circles where he hopes to draw out more lilting notes. His large eyes take him in. He has always carefully watched people he admires, Paul included. His examination is shameless; Paul has said he likes it when someone likes what they see.
He has found that Paul likes to test limits in his explorations, whether it be finding a weird mushroom in a dangerous place or coming up with a disarming party game. Wearing more layers and not quite as vulnerable to sensation, Midoriya is in a position to be the voice of reason despite his eagerness to answer Paul’s every invitation. Midoriya isn't heady with alcohol either, at most a light buzz. He always intended to be available to help in the event the main host is busy or--indisposed.
If only he could stop being so flustered.
"Are--are you trying to start more rumors,” a heated exhalation poorly passed off as indignation as he colors, “about me doing stuff in bathrooms?” He gasps against his lips in time with the firm lurching he is reluctant to stop, “There's not enough time, you know." Not enough time to give him everything in the way he imagines, and, he is sure, the way Paul is imagining him.
Re: you probably don't want to read this at work (ongoing)
He extricates himself from Paul’s mouth, lips overly warm, slick, and softened. He marks a damp trail along his jaw and comes to his destination at the enticing line of Paul's neck. There he plants his mark, sucks and teases it with his teeth, and signs his handiwork with a parting lave of his tongue.
He relents the press of their bodies only enough to run his hand down his front, this time slowly, letting his thumb draw carefully-applied circles where he hopes to draw out more lilting notes. His large eyes take him in. He has always carefully watched people he admires, Paul included. His examination is shameless; Paul has said he likes it when someone likes what they see.
He has found that Paul likes to test limits in his explorations, whether it be finding a weird mushroom in a dangerous place or coming up with a disarming party game. Wearing more layers and not quite as vulnerable to sensation, Midoriya is in a position to be the voice of reason despite his eagerness to answer Paul’s every invitation. Midoriya isn't heady with alcohol either, at most a light buzz. He always intended to be available to help in the event the main host is busy or--indisposed.
If only he could stop being so flustered.
"Are--are you trying to start more rumors,” a heated exhalation poorly passed off as indignation as he colors, “about me doing stuff in bathrooms?” He gasps against his lips in time with the firm lurching he is reluctant to stop, “There's not enough time, you know." Not enough time to give him everything in the way he imagines, and, he is sure, the way Paul is imagining him.