Fuck me as an equal

Part 2

It's been exactly two hours since you went to bed, and yet you were still stuck at the first step of sleeping : clearing your mind.

It's been almost one whole week since the party where Bakugô and you had more of a mouth-to-mouth than heart-to-heart conversation, and yet, it was still haunting you.

You didn't expect him to be such a playboy, to be honest. You thought he was just gonna behave like he always did and hurry things up, skipping the unnecessary. But he didn't break a door and took you from behind in a dark corner like you imagined. He was actually toying with you. He didn't give in his own temptation, and seeing him remaining in control of his desire -and by extension, of his dick- pissed you off a bit. He sure kept his cards close to his chest. The worst about it was that you kinda found it as hot as the Hell's flames you were definitely going to burn in given all the ero-themed dreams you had those last days. Your only consolation was to think that he was probably in the same state, feeling so lonely in his empty bed that he wasn't even an ass anymore, he was barely a cheek.

« You won, Bakugô. »

That's all it would take for you to get what you want. That's all he wanted to hear. But your ego would never recover from that. Not to mention that the blond-haired jerk wouldn't let you live it down.

« Fuck, » you groaned, turning around to lay on your other side, knees coming closer to your chest as a single hand slid down your belly to reach between your legs, cupping your sex over your underwear. You were careful to use your good hand and to let aside the one which was covered in bandage since the mirror's accident.

Masturbating is cheating. Bakugô's words were echoing anytime you felt yourself a spark away from a spontaneous combustion.

« Fuck it, I'll be a cheater, I can accept this role. »

You quickly shoved two fingers down your panties, softly rubbing your digits against your wet entrance. You couldn't prevent pictures of Bakugô from flocking to your tormented mind. He didn't just settle for waiting for you to be ready to beg, he provoked you all week along. Nobody else noticed except you, of course he managed to do that, but you didn't miss the lascivious glances, the « accidental » brushes of his hand against your hip, the discrete grins he addressed you, as if asking how you were doing with your frustration... God, you so needed to get Bakubanged.

The memory of his body and lips against yours didn't help to cool it down. At all. Anytime you saw him at work now, you couldn't help but stare at the mouth you kissed, the torso you were pressed against, the neck you held on... The boy wanted you crazy and was dangerously winning.

« Whatever, » you thought for yourself, fingers finally plunging into you after a moment of teasing. « I'm not kowtowing, this bastard can go fuck himself... That's probably what he's doing right now anyway. »

Your imagination seemed to be lending you an ear, because as soon as you mentally formulated those words, it started to feed your mind fictional pictures of what Bakugô would look like when playing with himself, all sweaty and hot and... Fuck.

« Damn iiit, » you squeaked, thighs coming to rub together, making your stomach clenched around the fingers inside you.

You were close to reaching your climax when your phone rang on the nightstand, making you immediately fall from your little cloud of intimate self-indulgence.

« God. FUCKING. Damn it ! » you yelled in your pillow before taking your sticky fingers out.

Rejecting your sheets at the end of the bed, you grabbed your phone with a shaky hand and read the text Best Jeanist sent to all his heroes to alert them of an accident which needed your intervention. Clapping your hands together in front of your face in a prying pose, you intensely looked at your ceiling as if some form of relief was going to magically fall from it.