Goodbye Solitude

Chapter 4

He spent the day doing everything he normally enjoyed. He read, worked out, cooked, and even spent far too much time watching stuff on Netflix.

He was utterly bored. It wasn't enough. What was wrong, he wasn't really sure, though.

As darkness fell, he began to get restless. He glanced at his phone repeatedly. Kirishima was usually texting him about going out by now. Not that he wanted to, of course. He just saw him yesterday, anyway. He plugged in his phone and paced his apartment, searching for anything small chore to do. He cleaned things that weren't really dirty. He even combed through his clothes and pulled out things he never wore to get rid of.

Finally, he couldn't put off going to bed any longer and laid down. After staring at the dark ceiling for a while, he rolled onto this side with a growl of disgust. Dreams were weird. There was no meaning behind them. They were just a collection of random thoughts and images and memories- all thrown into a mental blender and spit out when you slept. Of course, the bite felt kind of.... sexual. But Kirishima was just super drunk that night.

A horrible thought struck him. Hopefully he didn't usually get that drunk. Would he bite anyone when he got drunk? Bakugo had heard of people kissing indiscriminately when drunk. Biting could be a thing, who knows. He should talk to Kirishima about this when he saw him again. For his own good. Sure, Bakugo forgave him, but if he bit the wrong person then he could have a lawsuit on his hands.

Great. Don't worry about it. Sure, Kirishima was his friend but he was a grown adult.

It was a struggle to fall asleep that night. His mind ran around in circles. Worrying about Kirishima, worrying about work, irritated that he was worrying at all, and remembering how turned on he'd been in the morning. Hours later, he finally drifted to sleep.

Only to be woken up the next morning, panting in excitement with a raging boner. Broken bits of his dream floated to the surface of his mind. In his dream he'd writhed underneath Kirishima, naked. Very naked. He threw a pillow across the room in a fit and waited for his fucked-up body to calm the hell down.

Several minutes later he snarled in frustration and pulled off the boxer briefs he slept in, laying flat on his bed, stark naked. His dick bobbed insistently. Finally, he grabbed his dick, moaning at the touch. He hesitated. Should he? He had no qualms about jerking off in general. He was a normal, hotblooded guy. Everyone did it. Not everyone did it after having a sex dream about their best friend, though.

He brushed his thumb over the tip of his dick, feeling his breath quickening. All his willpower vanished and he started stroking himself slowly at first but rapidly increasing speed. He was so turned on already he knew he wouldn't last long. His dick got harder and harder in his hand, veins protruding under his palm. His mind reached back, remembering bits of his dreams. Wandering hands and lips. Red hair and sharp white teeth brushing against his sensitive skin. His toes curled and his ass clenched as gasps clawed from his mouth. White cum spurted onto his stomach, leaving him dazed and breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

He washed his spunk off in the shower, feeling deeply ashamed of himself. What had he done?

Deciding that he couldn't stand spending all day in his apartment again, he taped a bandage over his bitemark, threw his discarded clothes into a garbage bag and took it down to his car. He donated the clothes quickly at the nearest thrift store. Not because he felt much compassion to those with less money, to be honest. Throwing away clothes that weren't damaged or stained just seemed wasteful.

Then he wandered around a shopping plaza, half-heartedly shopping for a few new shirts, when he heard a low murmur ripple through the crowd of people.