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The music crescendos to an epic high and Eijirou can feel the excited tension as the crowd holds their collective breath. The adrenaline thrums through his veins as he continues to spin the flaming wand deftly between the fingers of his right hand as he kneels down to tip back a large mouthful of paraffin for his grand, final act of the night.
There are mutterings and musings drifting through the vast performance hall but Eijirou’s focused on nothing but his own racing heart matching the beat of the music. Sweat drips from his chin and trails down between his pecs toward his naval and his chest swells as he carefully fills his lungs with air. Muscle memory syncs with the echoing music and he barely has to think when he tilts his head back and brings the flaming wand close to his lips, puffing out the fuel with practiced familiarity.
Eijirou watches as his breath ignites right in front of him and the fireball expands, looming over him as he exhales every bit of fuel he’s gathered and creates a towering inferno. The crowd goes wild, gasps of awe and whoops of pure delight overtaking the sound of the music that gradually diminishes to a softer melody as his performance comes to an end.
Ignited wand still in hand while another is tossed to him from off stage, Eijirou holds his arms out to the sides as he takes in the applause, head held high, bare chest shown proudly, and grin wide as people take to their feet to shower him in praise for his skill. He bends for a bow, steps over to one side of the stage for another, and one final bow at the other side before the music changes to a different theme, his cue to step away for the next performance. Eijirou passes his wands to an assistant and raises his fist to the crowd before disappearing to the left wing.
He turns to watch Todoroki and Bakugou enter the stage from the other side, dressed in their costumes of red and gold, blazing hoops in hand as they take over center stage and the crowd’s full attention when their dance begins. Eijirou’s still breathing hard as he watches his friends put on their show from the sideline, once again grateful for this exciting life he’s been able to live performing with his troop.
“As much as I’d hate to say it, that might’ve been your best routine yet,” a voice says from behind Eijirou. The smarmy tone makes him roll his eyes in exasperation but simultaneously tugs his lips upward. The effect a single sentence has on him is oddly infuriating.
“Man, I can’t believe that was a genuine compliment,” Eijirou responds as he turns around, “You’re definitely starting to soften up on me, Monoma, what’s up with that?”
The sight of the neatly slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes trained on him is equally alluring as it is aggravating. The smirk that’s specifically meant to simultaneously make Eijirou’s blood boil and set his heart ablaze also seems to be working on him.
Monoma spreads his hands, feigning innocence and shock, “C’mon now, you know I’ve always been a good guy.”
Eijirou snorts, “Always been a jerk, more like.” He starts walking backstage to his dressing room for some much needed water and a moment to sit, but Monoma follows him. He’s glad for the company as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, even to himself. “You know, I’d like to think I’m a decent guy, but dude, I dunno how you do it but you make me wanna breathe fire on your freaking face.”
“Hm, no thank you, that sounds unpleasant,” Monoma says and it makes Eijirou chuckle inadvertently.
Monoma is surprisingly silent as he follows Eijirou into his dressing room and the reason why immediately reveals itself when nimble fingers dig into his waist and a pair of soft lips press a kiss to the back of his left shoulder just as he’s chugging his water. It makes him shiver and all it takes is for Monoma’s teeth to sink into his traps for Eijirou to give in.
Eijirou sets the bottle aside and turns swiftly, finding a victorious grin on Monoma’s face. It’s maddening. It's so attractive and enticing and annoying, he messes with Eijirou’s emotions in a way that no one has ever managed to do before which only adds to the appeal. And the only way he can stop looking at it is by kissing Monoma, hard, walking him back and pressing him up against the door until he’s panting heavily into Eijirou's mouth.
“You–ah–taste like smoke,” Monoma murmurs, and Eijirou takes the moment to bite into his bottom lip.
“Oh yeah? What did you expect?”
“Just not a taste I can get used to, I suppose.”
“Mhm, better try harder then if we’re gonna do this often,” Eijirou shifts his mouth to Monoma’s cheek, his jaw, then finds his weak spot along the length of his neck, just barely hidden by the collar of his white shirt. He runs his hands up the side of Monoma’s legs, his flank, the fabric of the hindering tuxedo jacket brushing against his knuckles.
“How much time until you gotta go out and do your magic tricks?” Eijirou asks as he hooks a finger into the shirt collar and tugs it aside a bit to reveal more skin, latching on to suck a bruise that only he’ll know is there.
There’s an annoyed click of tongue and a gasp of pleasure, “I’m a renowned illusionist and you dare still call my performances magic tricks?”
“Well, you called me a human blowtorch just this morning, so call it even.”
“That’s a–oh, yes–a compliment.”
“Sure, baby. So how long you got?”
“I’m up in fifteen minutes, so make it quick. And I just got the tuxedo steamed and pressed so don’t mess it up too bad.”
The demands add fuel to the fire building in Eijirou’s gut in more ways than one.
“Yes, sir,” he says sarcastically, and apparently that was the right thing to say because Monoma is threading his fingers through Eijirou’s tied back hair and pulling him back up to his lips.
Eijirou can’t hold back his moan when the other hand tilts his head further for a deeper kiss before lightly trailing down the front of his throat, his damp chest and stomach, lingering for a bit before dipping into the waistband of his bright red trousers.
Monoma strokes his dick, touch feather-light just to get Eijirou to groan in frustration and press his hips closer. A thumb swipes over the tip, smearing the precum over the head before the hand grasps his cock and tugs it out. He feels Monoma’s breath hitch when he reaches down to pull his pants down just a bit further and their hands brush.
Eijirou shifts his hands to Monoma’s pants and quickly undoes his button and zipper. “Want it all the way off or d’you wanna just turn around?” he mutters.
Monoma pulls back from his lips, breathless and flushed, only a hint of the smugness from earlier remaining in his expression, “W-Want you from behind,” a breath, “but I wanna watch.”
Eijirou’s confused for a split second but then notices Monoma’s eyes flicker toward the dressing room vanity. Oh. That’s new for them. Fuck.
“In front of the mirror?” Ejirou scoffs, though he’s already semi-waddling them both over with his hands secure around Monoma’s waist, “Well, aren't you the narcissist?”
“Guilty,” Monoma responds dryly, “But I wanna watch you too, so don’t go getting a bigger head.”
And that has Eijirou flushing further to match the color of his own hair. Shit.
He tugs Monoma’s pants and underwear down to his knees, making an impatient sound as the stupid coattails of his jacket keeps blocking his view of the view.
“Can we please take this off?”
Monoma huffs amusedly but obliges, letting Eijirou pull it off him and set it aside on the stool they shoved out of the way. He rucks his shirt up a little too before leaning forward, spreading his legs as far as his pants allow him and bracing his arms on the sturdy vanity tabletop in front of the large mirror.
Eijirou reaches for one of the drawers to grab his wallet from where he stored it before the start of the show and pulls out a condom. He’s only sort of surprised by the small bottle of lube rolling around in the same drawer, raising his eyebrows in the mirror as Monoma takes it and passes it back to him after he’s rolled on the condom.
“What can I say, I like to be prepared when I’m in a time crunch,” Monoma says with a smirk.
“Uh huh, right,” Eijirou slicks himself up before stepping up behind Monoma, “And I’m guessing breaking into my dressing room isn’t the only thing you did to be prepped and ready?” Eijirou emphasizes the word with a prod of his cock.
Monoma lets out a gush of air out of his lungs, tipping his head down and back up again to look at Eijirou through the mirror with such an intense look of want that sends the heat straight down to his groin tenfold. He holds Monoma’s waist with a hand before guiding his dick between his cheeks, both of them groaning in unison as he easily breaches his hole.
Eijirou does a few shallow thrusts before pressing deeper, eyes fixed on where they’re joined before looking up at the breathless call of his name. He locks his gaze on the reflection of Monoma’s face, expression of bliss so openly shown. The pale-blue of his irises are mostly obscured by dilated pupils, his mouth hanging partially open as he pants in time with Eijirou’s building tempo. Every once in a while, a sound of pleasure escapes his lips when Eijirou brushes against his prostate just right. It’s all so, so good and only encourages Eijirou to respond with noises of his own, low and guttural so as not to be heard as he ups the pace.
It’s warm in here and just when he’d thought he was starting to cool off after his performance, he feels like he’s been set on fire. Sweat trails down Eijirou’s temple and down his face, dripping onto his shiny chest. He can see the sparkle of the reflected light on Monoma’s face too, coating his shapely eyebrows that are scrunched together in concentration. Monoma pokes out his pink tongue to wet his lips, smirking again and licking over his perfect row of teeth as he holds Eijirou’s gaze as he pounds into him. Fuck, he’s so attractive and it’s not fair.
Monoma reaches a hand behind to grip Eijirou’s hip, blunt fingernail forming crescents into his skin, “C’mon big boy, I have to be on in ten,” he says, voice hitching in staccatos in sync with the slapping of their skin.
Eijirou rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth as he snakes a hand up under Monoma’s pristine shirt and around his ribcage, pulling his torso up so that his back is flush against Eijirou’s front. The change in angle has Monoma gasping and Eijirou would be lying if he said he didn’t hiss out a soft string of curses himself when he clenches around him.
He flicks a hardened nipple with his thumb while his other hand skims lightly down Monoma’s trembling thigh before drifting to his hard cock, flushed and pink.
“Fuck–Kirishima, yeah, yeah,” Monoma babbles, squeezing his eyes when Eijirou takes him in hand and begins to pump, slow at first just to tease before trying to match the rhythm of his own hips that are starting to thrust wildly, barely pulling out before slamming back in again.
He takes in the lewd sight of their bodies for a moment, both their fucked out expressions a sight to behold. Monoma’s hand then comes up to the back of his head, yanking him in for a kiss.
“M’close, so close, baby,” Eijirou mumbles against his lips and Monoma makes an encouraging sound back, warm tongue sliding against Eijirou’s own.
His hips are stuttering and Eijirou can feel himself reaching the peak as his muscles start to go taut and the warmth in his belly is at an all time high. Monoma’s other hand finds his when he falters with the pace until Eijirou’s stroking his dick just right again, helping him climb to his own orgasm.
They’re both huffing out heavy breaths and moans and all Eijirou can do is muffle a warning against the juncture of Monoma’s neck when he comes, almost embarrassed at the whimper it draws out of him. He manages to continue stroking Monoma’s cock and it only takes a few more to have him falling over the edge too, the blonde somehow having the mind to grab a couple of the tissues on the table to catch his spill before he can make a mess of himself.
Eijirou holds Monoma against him a little longer, catching his breath and pressing a tender kiss to his shoulder, his neck, and then his cheek before slipping out of him. He steps away to dispose of the condom, accepting a few tissues to clean up a bit before tugging his trousers back on.
He helps Monoma shrug his tuxedo jacket back on once he’s wiped himself down and neatly tucked his shirt back into his pants properly. Except for a couple of wrinkles that he doubts anyone in the audience will notice, there’s not an ounce of evidence that Eijirou had railed him in the freaking dressing room just five minutes prior to his spectacular show.
He can’t help but give himself a pat on the back for a job well done.
“That felt good,” Monoma says, looking satisfied as all hell, “I’m not as nervous now”
“Wouldn’t have thought you’re one to get nervous at all with all the shit talking and ‘king of the universe’ act,” Eijirou retorts, stepping in close again.
“Oh, glad my official title is finally catching on,” Monoma says, grinning wide and making Eijirou chuckle. “Doesn’t mean I’m impervious to a little nerves, which is why I need you.”
Eijirou leans down to capture his lips in a kiss, “So, you’re just using me, huh? For your own benefit?”
“Mhm, and yours. You like it too.”
“What makes you think I like this arrangement?”
“For one, you like me.”
The words have Eijirou inhaling sharply. But Monoma’s disentangling himself before he can find a response, offering Eijirou a final peck on the jaw before he’s heading to the door.
“Wait!”
“No time, dragon man, I have a crowd waiting to be enthralled and bedazzled.”
“Just–dude, you can’t just–d’you like me too then? Are we–is this more than just–”
Monoma saunters out the doorway, doing a little spin as he turns to face Eijirou standing still inside the room.
His lips pull into his most ridiculous smirk yet, eyebrows raised and an arm held out dramatically, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
Eijirou laughs, “You’re an illusionist, you jerk!”
And for a moment the smug, pompous facade melts away to reveal genuine emotion, affection. Eijirou’s heart starts to swell within his chest and he feels like he could breathe fire for real, no fuel necessary. It’s new but not at the same time, and it’s taking all his effort not to just drag Monoma back inside and pull him back to his lips.
“Yeah, well,” Monoma says, softer than anything Eijirou’s heard from him before, “my feelings aren’t an illusion.” He follows his words with a wink and then Monoma disappears into the stage area for his routine.
Eijirou’s left standing weak-kneed and slack-jawed in the middle of the dressing room for the longest minute of his life as he processes what he just heard. He turns and looks over at the mirror, sees his own stunned expression, sees his pants still tugged too low on his waist. The vanity's contents are strewn around, knocked to the ground by the weight of Monoma shaking it over and over again as they got it on, like, just two minutes ago.
The ground beneath Eijirou’s feet rumbles with the crowd's cheers for an encore and he finds himself grinning with pride. As much as he wants to go watch, he decides to wait here; he’s watched almost all of Monoma’s rehearsals anyway so he practically has every moment memorized. Besides, he’s quite sure that when Monoma returns and sees Eijirou still half-naked and leaning against the vanity, he’ll be wanting his own encore.