Chapter Text
The next day, Touya decides to have some mercy and make his return as Keigo’s combat training partner, giving him a break from Endeavours burning hands and furrowed brow.
It doesn’t go well.
Keigo barely slept an hour. His brain was too slow to study earlier, so instead he went on yet another run. And now? Keigo’s body isn’t really listening to him. He’s trying to keep up and listen to what Touya is saying, but he can’t stop staring at his lips. At his collarbone, and the faint red mark there. At his hair, and the white that threatens to take over what little black hair dye is left.
“Are you even listening to me, stupid bird?”
Keigo blinks slow, gaze raking over Touya as he tries to look up and make eye contact.
“Yeah,” he says, voice sluggish, “I’m listening.”
Touya stares at him, and in Keigo’s tires state he swears it’s hours before he speaks again.
“You need to sleep. Go take a break—”
“No,” Keigo asserts “I can do this.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I had a protein bar this morning—“
“A meal, birdie.”
Keigo fixes his gaze on the floor. His vision is blurring with little blobs of purple and green.
“Jesus christ, go,” Touya shoves him out of the gym, and Keigo is too tired to really resist, “I’m not teaching you like this. You’ve gotta rest, so you can be at peak performance or whatever.”
No. No— Keigo doesn’t need sleep. He needs to defy his human nature, to be no more than a machine. He needs to be the fastest man alive. No—
“Please, please don’t do this to me,” Keigo pleads “I can handle it, I can— I need to—“
Touya covers his mouth with his hand all casual, like it’s a normal thing to do. Salty tears threaten to spill.
“What’s happening,” Endeavour says, stern voice cutting through the fog. Touya rolls his eyes,
“Your pet is exhausted. Guess he’s not cut out for hero work, after all,”
Keigo is helpless to do anything but fall apart.
Endeavours lips curl into a snarl,
“Did he say he was too tired, Touya? Or are you making that decision for him.”
“He’s a stubborn idiot. I made the decision for him— he needs to sleep.”
“If he wants to earn his keep, he’ll—“
“Fuck you,” Touya bites back, “Keigo isn’t like you, he’s not a fucking machine— You’re overworking him and you know it.”
Endeavour assesses the pair in one sweeping motion. Touya’s hand on Keigo’s mouth, bloodshot eyes and his body sagging into Touya’s. His expression is indiscernible, as it always is.
“Fine. Let him rest. But he has conditioning to catch up on afterwards.”
Touya doesn’t say anything, just scoffs and helps Keigo down the hall.
“Touya,” Endeavour calls after them,
“Let him decide his own limits.”
Touya acknowledges the statement with a wave over his shoulder and nothing more.
The halls of the Todoroki residence are quiet— that’s a good thing, as Keigo has learned. The only time there’s any sound to speak of, it’s tense words thick with subtext Keigo is hypersensitive to— but even still, it takes all he has to peel back the layers, and Keigo doesn’t have that kind of mental capabilities right now.
It’s a good thing Touya doesn’t seem like he wants to talk, anyways. He just drags Keigo to his room— Touya’s room— and tucks him under the thinnest sheets Keigo has ever felt. Touya stacks a blanket on top of him when he shivers.
Despite his resistance to sleep, it comes easily. Keigo watches Touya settle in his desk chair adjacent to the bed, shutting the blinds and leaning back for a moment. Keigo falls asleep instantly, the sight of Touya so calm and quiet comforting him. For a moment, he understands why hero's do what they do-- it's all to protect this. Keigo has never known peace, but if it's anything like this, he'd die to keep it alive, too.
When he wakes up, Touya is in the same place, but now there is a tall glass of water on his nightstand.
Keigo feels better— like he can actually retain information and process his surroundings, like he isn’t just on autopilot.
He’s conscious enough to decide not to make it known. Instead, Keigo just watches Touya for a while. He’s not playing music or anything, just curled up in his chair tapping the edge of his pencil in a spiral-bound book gently. Touya looks pretty like this. So pretty that Keigo almost forgets all of his worries.
But.
Keigo takes a breath through his nose, sitting up. This is the bed Touya fucks Tenko in every night, loud enough that he knows Keigo will hear.
“I’m okay, you know. I don’t need you to tell me when I’ve overdone it.”
His words come out a touch sharper than he’d intended. Touya turns in his chair, socked feet coming up to rest on the edge of the bed, smile lazy and smug,
“Your body’s gonna give out on you one of these days, birdie. If you pass out and end up hospitalized, the old man might just dump you on the streets.”
Keigo frowns.
“I can’t afford to think like that. If I don’t prove my dedication now, he’ll give up on me anyways.”
Touya scoffs, “Ever considered trying something else? Finding something you actually like?”
Yeah, Keigo has. But the thing is,if Endeavour saw potential in him, Keigo can’t pass that up. No way. He will survive, and when he gets to the top he’ll have enough time to figure out who he is.
“I like this. I— This is what I’m supposed to do. It feels right.” It's not a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, either.
Touya’s smile widens,
“Yeah, it does sort of suit you. But you don’t have to be so invested. I’m just saying you shouldn’t sacrifice so much of yourself for it.”
Keigo stands, cold washing over him as he leaves the warmth of the blanket.
“I don’t have anything to sacrifice, Touya. This is all I am.”
“—That’s not true.”
Touya’s words cut. They’re firm and grounded and ring out in Keigo’s mind on a feedback loop.
“You don’t know me,” Keigo bites. He learned from the best.
“Yeah, I do,” Touya says through a scoff, “I know you’re fuckin’ adorable when you’re needy, and you’re stupidly dedicated to your goals, and you want desperately to be better than your piece of shit parents.”
Keigo’s jaw clenches, hands balling into fists.
No. Touya isn’t supposed to see him. Keigo doesn’t have any insides to scrape out, so why does he feel like his guts are all over the floor?
“What-the fuck-ever,” Keigo hisses, “You only want me when I’m convenient. You— you don’t even—“
“Jesus christ, bird, you think this is convenient for me? You are beyond antisocial— I haven’t put this much work into getting laid in years!”
Keigo huffs, tugging on his own hair and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His legs are shaking and he’s so frustrated he can’t think, just needs to argue.
“So that’s all this is to you? If you just wanted to get laid you have your friend for that.”
Touya rolls his eyes, standing up from the chair. Keigo all of a sudden feels very small, but he isn’t seeing from the eyes of his younger self— he feels like his Mother.
“Yeah and I wouldn’t go into your bed every night, or talk you through it every time either. Obviously I fuckin’ care, idiot,”
Keigo doesn’t know how to treat someone’s heart gently. In some other lifetime he’d sooth and caress and kiss Touya gently. He’d wrap his legs around Touya’s hips and pull them flush against one another, nuzzle up against him like he’s some soft body pillow.
But this is Keigo’s reality. Arguing with his mentors son over their weird sexual tensionwas not a possibility that came to mind when he started here. Wanting to slap and kiss someone so badly it hurts wasn’t a possibility, either.
But that’s what he wants, right now.
“Why?” Keigo asks. He shouldn’t— not while his tone carries the hostility from earlier.
“Fuck if I know,” Touya huffs “I just do.”
Is it normal for humans to blindly trust their misplaced feelings? Just because Touya cares for him, does that mean Keigo is someone worth caring for? Does he believe that?
Keigo bites the inside of his cheeks.
“Give up on me.”
The words are supposed to sound like a demand, but they come out broken and weak— everything Keigo is that he tries to bury deep down. Everything Touya pulls out of him effortlessly.
“Don’t feel like it.”
That anger flares up again, and before Keigo can really grasp what he’s doing, he’s standing up. Grabbing at Touya’s shirt. Threading a hand through his hair like he wants to tug just to shut him up.
Touya just grins like he won— like he’d been waiting for Keigo to snap the whole time.
Their lips crash together in an instant.
Lips. Warm, soft, a bit slippery. A tongue on his lower lip, and then teeth digging in. Keigo moans into the kiss because he just can’t get anything past Touya, can he?
Touya tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue working its way past the seam of Keigo’s mouth, and simultaneously pushes him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed. And then Keigo is laying on his back and Touya is crawling over him, straddling his lap. If Keigo wasn’t already hard, he is now. Touya laughs in that half mocking, half fond way he does, and rocks his hips down on the ever growing bulge in Keigo’s pants.
But then Touya is kissing the corner of his mouth, trailing little pecks down his jawline and neck, and for a second Keigo’s chest is full of what he thinks might be love. It’s ridiculous, but it’s hard to force the thought down when Touya is nipping at his skin, his soft hands sliding up his sides, grinding down on him slow like they have all the time in the world.
It doesn’t sound like his hookups with Tenko— those are rushed, rough, driven by pleasure and pleasure alone. This is different. Why?
“Touya,” Keigo gasps, “What— what do you want from me?”
Touya goes quiet, bites down on the junction of muscle between shoulder and neck, and then pulls back.
“I want you to be fuckin’ real— as inconvenient as you are. Want to fuck you stupid anyways.”
His breath hitches like he’s pissed off that he means it, and then he’s biting and sucking marks into Keigo’s skin again.
“Why? I don’t— don’t have any experience. I don’t know how to—“ Touya nibbles on a particularly sensitive area, ripping a needy whimper out of Keigo, “How to be worth it.”
Touya rocks his hips down and the sound he makes is a mixture of a moan and a laugh,
“You don’t have to try, pretty bird. Not at all.”
Keigo gasps and lurches up to kiss him again, a bit clumsy and awkward in trying to lead— trying to show Touya everything he’s tried to keep hidden. And Touya takes it, drinks him down like molten caramel, moaning like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. In their heated entanglement of limbs, Keigo loses his shirt. And then his shorts. And then Touya is stripping himself down to his underwear, too. They grind desperate and messy, panting and breathing each others air.
Looking up at him, Keigo feels something primal in him stir. His chest aches and his wings are fluttering behind him with the rhythm of Touya’s hips, and Keigo needs—
“Mine,” Keigo gasps as the word punches out of his ribcage, “Fuck— please— please say you’re mine, Touya. Please.”
Keigo had never had anything to call his own. He doesn’t even possess his own body, but maybe he can have some claim to Touya’s.
“Sure,” Touya rasps, slotting their hips together tightly and biting the soft part of his cheek, “I’m yours, birdie. All yours.”
Fuck. Keigo is harder than he’s ever been, straining stiff against his boxers and rutting up against Touya like his life depends on it. The words practically alter his brain chemistry, his bird dna surging with the need to stake his claim.
Keigo whimpers, eyes rolling into the back of his head, drunk on lust and the biological need to take this further. He wishes he knew what he was doing, because as is Keigo is helpless to do anything but gasp, “ More, please ,”
Touya leans close to his ear, his breath a warm and steady reminder that he’s here. He’s real.
“How far d’you want to go?”
Keigo pauses, absently mouthing at the side of Touya’s neck,
“I don’t know. I want— want to be closer. M’wanna feel you.”
Touya lets out a puff of air through his nose,
“Want me to ride you, baby?”
Keigo nods.
“It’s going to be too much. You okay with that?”
Another nod comes too easy, too trusting.
“Words. Tell me what you’re thinkin’”
Damnit. Keigo is no good with words.
“Don't care if— if it’s too much. I need to— need—“ Keigo is already too overwhelmed to speak let alone articulate his thoughts. He can feel the insistent press of Touya’s cock against his through fabric. He feels so much— a lifetime of feeling let out all at once.
Touya shushes him, squishing his face in one hand.
“Calm down, birdie, you’re so fuckin’ needy you’ll make me come in my pants— goddamnit,” His head lulls back and Keigo takes the opportunity to latch onto his throat, whining helplessly.
“Please, please, please,” he chants. If he’s going to do this, he needs to go all the way. Keigo can’t take being the guy who can’t give Touya anything more than friction.
Touya stills his hips, effectively holding Keigo down with his body weight, and pulls back to look at him.
“Okay. Just— just stay put a second, will you?”
He moves to get off Keigo’s lap, the absence of him felt in the rush of cold that washes over him.
Keigo watches with wide, alert eyes as Touya slides open the top drawer of his dresser, digging around in it and retrieving a condom and a half-empty bottle of lube. He doesn’t really register that, though, Keigo is too busy taking in the scars that run all over Touya’s body— further than he’d ever imagined.
He gets this sudden urge to kiss him, to make him forget whatever had hurt him so badly in the past.
But then Touya is settling back in his lap, now fully naked, coating his own hand in lube and reaching backwards, chin hooked over Keigo’s shoulder.
“Need to— to prep. I haven’t, um, done this in a while.”
Keigo nods, makes a pathetic little sound and wraps his arms around Touya, sticking them together with the tackiness of skin.
He can hear Touya working himself open, each little squelch of lube making his heart climb higher in his esophagus. Touya fishes Keigo out of his pants and strokes him leisurely to keep him hard and wanting.
The sounds are so enticing, and Touya’s wrist must hurt in that position, so,
“Can— can I try?”
Touya pauses, pulls back so Keigo can just barely see his flushed face, lips quirked into a breathless half-smile,
“Sure thing, birdie.”
He says it so casual, like he’s letting Keigo touch his hair or hold his hand. It’s intimately easy, the way Keigo’s shaky left hand cradles Touya hips, his right sliding down, down, to the slickness of his inner thighs.
From here, Keigo has no idea what he’s doing. He presses the pad of his middle finger to Touya’s rim, feeling out the puckering hole. He’s already fairly stretched, but Keigo won’t risk two fingers, so he presses one in to the first knuckle tentatively. When he meets no resistance, he slides it in the rest of the way.
Touya guides him with a low groan, his body sagging against Keigo’s,
“Yeah, you got it boss— fuck— right there,”
Keigo blinks, then he feels it— a little bundle of nerves against the tip of his finger. Huh. He strokes it expiramentally once, and then twice when Touya moans against his neck, and then a third time.
“Another,” Touya whispers, and so Keigo slides in another finger, again, meeting no resistance. He pumps them together, dragging padded fingertips against that spot.
For a moment, Keigo forgets that he’s nothing more than the wings on his back. He forgets he should be working, and that he should be tired from working so much. Honestly, he’s still bone tired, but the rest of the world can wait for this. For them.
It’s strange, being responsible for someone else pleasure. Keigo has taken care of other people his entire life, but that was because he was there and capable.
But Keigo doesn't feel very capable, right now. His strokes are slow and calculated, like he’s afraid that if he makes one wrong move Touya will get off him and set him ablaze on the spot.
He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts, because Touya whines. Like he wants more. Like Keigo is actually doing a good job— or maybe Touya just wants him that badly that anything would feel good.
Keigo shivers.
“You— you gotta,” Touya pants, raising his own hand and offering a scissoring motion with his fingers. Keigo swallows hard.
“Stretch me,” Touya sounds completely and utterly fucked out, on the verge of collapsing against him. But he asked, so Keigo tries. He spreads his fingers, chewing the inside of his cheeks at the feeling of soft muscle clenching and fluttering around his hand.
“Fuck,” Touya curses, mouthing absently at his shoulder. When Keigo hits his prostate again— not even meaning to— Touya sinks his teeth into his shoulder, probably drawing blood in the process. Keigo’s cock twitches. He could come just from that feeling alone.
“I— okay,” Touya pulls back, blinking like he’s trying to get out of some haze, ”I’m ready— just—“ he licks his lips, eyes half-lidded, “God, you did so good,” Touya’s talking as he’s tugging off Keigo’s boxers, lining them up,
“I never do this, you know?” Touya muses, bracing himself on Keigo’s shoulders, “Not— okay, I have sex pretty regularly. But just— not like this,”
Keigo thinks, and sure enough, as far back as he can recall it’s always sounded like Touya was the one drilling Tenko into the sheets. He could recognize that low, assertive growl anywhere.
He doesn’t have time to think about the implications as Touya lowers himself down, because— fuck. Keigo is tearing up, but not from sadness— not even from pleasure. It’s everything. He can feel Touya stretching around him, hear every little sharp breath, see every shift in his expression as he strains to take him to the hilt.
But when he does? Touya settles his thighs against Keigo’s, effectively seating himself on his cock, fluttering around him and Keigo isn’t sure if it’s his own heart beat or Touya’s pulsing through every vein in his body.
Keigo is frozen, eyes wide, hands gripping the bedsheets, breath dangerously shallow and lips parted like he’d make a noise, if he knew which one was appropriate for the depths of pleasure he’s feeling.
“Jesus birdie,” Touya teases lightly, peppering kisses all over his face, “don’t malfunction on me now,”
He rocks his hips once, twice, but stills when he finds that Keigo has yet to move a single muscle.
“Stop thinking,” Touya says into the crook of his neck, but quickly realizes that Keigo is having the opposite issue— his brain is completely empty. Touya rolls his eyes playfully and pulls off, adjusting his position so he’s laid on his back, pillow underneath his hips and legs spread invitingly.
“Since you did such a good job earlier, why don’t you take the reigns, hm?”
Keigo blinks, and before he can control his own body he’s pinning Touya to the bed, seeking him out like a moth to the flame. He vaguely registers Touya’s fond laugh, kissing the grin off his face, and pressing in.
From there, it’s a blur. Keigo ruts into him like a starved animal, his wings flexing behind him, panting heavy against his lips. Touya is patient with him when his pace falters, doesn’t filter his noises so Keigo knows when he’s doing well.
Eventually, Keigo gets it. He knows what angle will make Touya’s back arch off the bed, knows where to kiss and suck on his neck, knows him. His body, at least, but Keigo will take what he can get.
And then Keigo pulls back— well, to be precise, is pulled back, and Touya presses their foreheads together. Touya’s eyes are glassy, his skin shining, lips slick with spit. He’s gorgeous. Keigo doesn’t even mind that they’re staring at each other— enjoys it, actually. His heart flutters in his chest at the simple act of being looked at.
It makes everything feel like way too much all at once.
“Touya— ah— I’m gonna—“
“ Please come inside me, Keigo,” Touya whispers, voice hoarse. Keigo moans at the suggestion, the bird part of his brain hard-wired to want nothing but that. Judging by the cocky smirk the flicks over Touya’s face, he suspected as much.
“You’re such a dick,” Keigo grumbles, but he doesn’t stop. He just wraps a fist around Touya’s cock and strokes him pathetically fast, needing to see him crumble first.
It doesn’t take long. Touya’s hips buck up into his fist, the angle allowing Keigo to slide even deeper. Touya’s eyes roll into the back of his head and then he’s coming all over himself, and in Keigo’s palm.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Touya chants, and Keigo is grateful for it because he does have enough cognition to know that Touya will be overstimulated to shit. But if he’s willing to take it, who’s Keigo to deny him?
His movements speed up, hurried and desperate thrusts making him dizzy. Keigo is so close, but what really gets him—?
Seeing Touya fall apart at the seams all over again. Seeing that he isn’t the only one this affected. Because Touya is crying now, too, but he keeps chanting “Yes, yes, don’t stop,” like his very life depends on it.
They come apart together. Keigo spills into him, as deep as he can go, and Touya comes a second time with a cry that’s definitely too loud in the quiet house, but Keigo can’t find it in himself to care.
Until it’s all he can think about.
They’re quiet for a while. Keigo collapses against Touya, tastes his sweat-salty skin, and he could just about pass out like this.
But the aftermath keeps his brain wired. He assesses Touya’s body language for a threat— for all of this to be pulled out from under the rug. Keigo scans and analyzes each movement that he can still feel from inside him.
He’s not sure. He’s too tired for stupid survival. Right now, Keigo couldn’t care less if Touya set him on fire, because at least Keigo knows how it feels to have someone.
He does have Touya, right?
“You’re sticky,” Touya rasps.
Keigo peels himself off, his expression somewhere between total bliss and gut wrenching pain.
“Keigo,” Touya urges when they’ve once again been still too long. Keigo hums, unable to peel his eyes from where they’re still connected.
“I gotta go, uh, clean up.”
Right. Yeah. They can’t stay in this little warm bubble forever. Touya got what he wanted, proved his point, so now it’s over.
Keigo wordlessly pulls out, wincing at the tenderness. Touya shifts off the bed, pulling on his boxers and sleep pants, loosely tying the drawstring. Keigo feels gross for watching and hanging on to every little motion like he does— for trying to gauge whether or not he’s moving different. If he’s feeling empty where Keigo had filled him.
And then Touya is at the door, and all of a sudden Keigo feels this creeping dread, like if he’s alone for his thoughts for the mere minutes it will take for Touya to wipe himself clean, he might actually implode.
So Keigo stands. A bit too fast, as the pounding ache in his head hits him full force again, now accompanied by sore thighs.
“Wait—“ Keigo cuts himself off, ears flushing at how desperate and needy he sounds. Touya quirks a brow, waiting for him to finish the thought.
“Um,” Keigo blinks, wracking his brain for an excuse.
“I, uh, need to clean up too,”
“So?”
“So, it would— it would save water if—“
“Oh my God shut up,” Touya cuts him off, but he’s tossing Keigo a pair of sweatpants, “put these on so you don’t flash my sister on the way.”
The Todoroki house is dead silent. But Touya and Keigo are very much alive.
Keigo has never had anything, so he treats Touya very gently. He takes his sweet time to scrub shampoo into Touya’s hair, doesn’t let any suds get into his eyes, washes every inch of his body like it’s a work of art.
When he’s done rinsing Touya off, Keigo pauses for a minute, thumb brushing against his jaw. Touya lets him. Lets him step under the water with him without squirming away, or grinning, or making a joke. Touya just looks at him. See’s him. And Keigo sees him right back.
Keigo doesn’t have to wonder if there’s anything worthwhile inside of him. He wants to say “thank you” but the words die on his tongue, too embarrassing to be spoken aloud.
What would he even be thanking Touya for?
“ Thank you for letting me fuck you”
“Thank you for being so unbearably hot”
No. Touya loops his arms around Keigo and kisses the bite mark he’d left earlier. Keigo’s wings curl around them. He doesn’t know how to articulate what it is he’s grateful for— maybe it goes beyond words. Maybe it’s just a feeling.
Like flying, and the crash landing that comes afterwards. Like laying in bed after a long days’ work, muscles aching and gravity demanding you rest. Like salted caramel and chocolate covered pretzels.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have made you do all the work. You must be tired.”
Keigo shakes his head,
“No. I— I’m okay. Felt good, um," to have control, is what he thinks, but he doesn't know how to say that and Touya knows what he means.
“Maybe I’ll sleep in tomorrow. I’ve earned it.”
Touya snorts,
“What, until 6?”
“I was thinking 5:30,”
They laugh, and Keigo coughs as water gets into his esophagus which only serves to make Touya laugh even harder. Keigo would happily asphyxiate if it meant that sound was the last thing he’d hear.
“You are something else, hero,” Touya teases. Keigo can’t stop the goofy smile stretching his features.
“Here’s something: I’ll take an hour off my studying tomorrow, at 11. Maybe come lay down with you.”
Touya kisses him, quick and chaste, “Yeah?” he whispers against Keigo’s lips,
“I’d like that. A lot.”