The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Five years after the final war, after the dust had settled and the heroes had either retired or settled into the new normal, Katsuki Bakugo's place in the Musutafu high-rise felt more like a fortress than a home. Clean lines. Dark furniture. Everything in its place because he still hated clutter the way some people hated losing.
Camie Utsushimi had a key.
She didn't knock. She never did anymore. The soft click of the lock was the only warning before the door swung open and she stepped inside, toeing off her heels with the same casual grace she used to weaponize in high school. The years had only sharpened her. Longer legs. Fuller hips. That same sharp, playful mouth that could still cut someone open with a smile. Her hair was a little longer now, the blonde streaks catching the low light from the kitchen as she walked further in.
Bakugo was already there, standing by the island with a glass of water in one hand, shirt half-unbuttoned from the moment he'd gotten home from the agency. He didn't look surprised. He never did when she showed up like this. Their arrangement had stopped needing explanations a long time ago.
She didn't say hello.
She crossed the space between them in three long strides, took the glass out of his hand, set it down on the counter with a soft clink, and kissed him like she was claiming something. No soft lead-in. No teasing brush of lips. Just heat and pressure and the immediate slide of her tongue against his when he opened for her. His hands came up hard, one fisting in the back of her blouse, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. He tasted like the mint he always chewed after work and something darker underneath.
Camie made a low, approving sound into his mouth and shoved him backward until his spine hit the edge of the island. She didn't give him room to breathe. Her fingers were already working the rest of his shirt open, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with impatient tugs. The scars across his chest and arms were familiar now—white and raised and mapping every fight he'd survived. She dragged her nails lightly over them just to feel the way his muscles jumped.
Bakugo growled into the kiss, low and rough, and spun them so fast Camie's back hit the cool marble instead. He kissed her harder, teeth catching her lower lip, tongue pushing deep. One of his hands shoved up under her blouse, palm rough and hot against the bare skin of her stomach, then higher, cupping her breast through the thin lace of her bra. He squeezed once, hard, thumb dragging over the peak of her nipple until it tightened under the fabric.
She arched into it without hesitation, one leg already hiking up around his hip. The skirt she was wearing rode up easily. He didn't bother with the zipper. Just shoved the material higher until it bunched at her waist, and then his hand was between her thighs, pressing firmly against the damp heat of her through her underwear.
Camie broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, "Don't you dare stop," and then she was pulling him back in, biting at his mouth while her own hands went to his belt. The leather slid free with a sharp yank. Button. Zipper. She shoved his pants and boxers down just far enough to free him, and her fingers wrapped around the thick, hard length of him without ceremony.
Bakugo's hips jerked into her grip. He was already fully hard, the head of his cock slick. She stroked him once, tight and deliberate from base to tip, and he cursed against her lips.
He didn't ask. He never did.
His fingers hooked into the crotch of her underwear and yanked hard enough that the seams gave with a soft tear. The ruined fabric was shoved aside. Two of his fingers pushed into her immediately—thick, calloused, and relentless. She was already wet enough that the slide was easy, and the sound she made was pure need. He curled those fingers just right, pressing against the spot that made her thighs shake, and worked her open with short, deep thrusts while his thumb found her clit and rubbed firm circles.
Camie's head dropped back against the cabinets. Her grip on his cock tightened. "Fuck—yes—"
He added a third finger without warning, stretching her, and she moaned loud enough that it echoed off the high ceilings. Her free hand braced against the counter behind her. The other kept stroking him in time with the thrust of his fingers, twisting on the upstroke the way she knew he liked.
Bakugo's mouth found her throat. He bit down just under her jaw, hard enough to mark, and sucked until the skin bloomed red. His fingers kept working her, relentless, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet apartment. When her walls started to flutter around him he pulled his hand free entirely.
Camie made a sound of pure frustration that cut off when he gripped her thighs, lifted her onto the edge of the island, and stepped between her legs in one smooth motion. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance. He didn't tease. He didn't wait. He pushed in with one hard, continuous thrust until he was buried to the hilt.
The stretch punched a sharp, broken moan out of her. Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent marks. Bakugo's forehead dropped to hers for half a second, breath harsh, and then he started moving.
There was nothing gentle about it. He fucked her like he'd been thinking about it all day—deep, punishing strokes that forced her back to arch and her hands to scramble for purchase on the smooth marble. Every thrust punched the air from her lungs. The island creaked under them. Camie's legs locked around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him in harder.
"Harder," she gasped, and he gave it to her without hesitation. The next thrust was brutal. The one after that even more so. The wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin filled the kitchen. Bakugo's hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back so he could bite at her throat again, teeth scraping over the mark he'd already left. His other hand gripped her hip hard enough that she knew she'd wear the fingerprint bruises for days.
Camie met every thrust. She rolled her hips down to take him deeper, the angle making him grind against her clit with every snap of his hips. Her blouse was half-off one shoulder. Her bra had been shoved down under her breasts at some point, and Bakugo's mouth closed over one nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the peak. The dual sensation made her clench around him so tightly that he groaned against her skin.
He didn't slow down. If anything he drove into her faster, the rhythm turning almost brutal. Camie's moans turned into sharp, breathless cries. One of her hands slid between them so she could rub her clit in tight, desperate circles while he fucked her. The pressure built fast—too fast—and she didn't try to hold it back.
She came with a broken shout of his name, walls clamping down hard around his cock, thighs shaking against his sides. Bakugo didn't stop. He fucked her through it, drawing the orgasm out until she was oversensitive and gasping, and only then did he pull out.
Camie barely had time to catch her breath before he was manhandling her off the island. He spun her around, bent her over the cool marble with one hand between her shoulder blades, and shoved back into her from behind in one deep thrust. The new angle made her cry out. He was deeper like this. Fuller. His hands gripped her hips and yanked her back to meet every brutal snap of his hips.
The position left her completely open. She could feel every thick inch of him dragging against her walls, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot on every inward thrust. Bakugo's breathing was ragged behind her. One of his hands left her hip to fist in her hair again, pulling her head back so her spine arched. The other reached around to find her clit, rubbing firm, relentless circles while he pounded into her.
Camie's second orgasm hit without warning. She came hard, mouth open on a silent scream, body locking up around him. Bakugo cursed low and vicious and kept going, fucking her through the aftershocks until her arms gave out and she was braced on her forearms, cheek pressed to the cold counter.
He wasn't far behind. His rhythm turned erratic, thrusts growing shorter and harder. When he came it was with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against her while he pulsed inside her. She felt the hot rush of it, the way his cock twitched with every spurt, and clenched around him deliberately just to draw another rough sound out of his throat.
For a long moment the only sound was their breathing.
Bakugo stayed buried in her, chest pressed to her back, one arm braced on the counter beside her head. His other hand stroked slowly up and down her side, almost absently. Camie turned her head just enough to catch his mouth in a messy, open kiss. He kissed her back without hesitation, slower now, but no less intense.
When he finally pulled out, the wet slide of it made her shiver. Come dripped down the inside of her thigh. She didn't bother fixing her clothes yet. Just stayed bent over the island for another few seconds, catching her breath, while Bakugo stepped back and shoved his pants the rest of the way off.
He didn't give her long to recover.
Strong hands gripped her waist and turned her around again. Camie went willingly, hopping back up onto the edge of the island when he lifted her. Her ruined underwear was still hanging off one ankle. She kicked it away. Bakugo stepped between her thighs once more, already half-hard again—because of course he was—and this time when he kissed her it was deeper, slower, but the intent behind it was unmistakable.
His hand slid between her legs, two fingers pushing back into her easily. She was soaked, messy with both of them, and the wet sound of his fingers working her open again made her moan into his mouth. He scissored those fingers, stretched her, then added a third just to watch her thighs tremble.
"Again," he said against her lips. Not a question.
Camie hooked one leg higher around his hip and rolled against his hand. "Then stop playing with me and fuck me properly."
He pulled his fingers free, lined himself up, and shoved back into her in one smooth, deep thrust. This round was slower only in the sense that he took his time grinding deep, rolling his hips in tight circles that kept the head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside her. Camie wrapped both arms around his neck and held on, mouth open against his shoulder as every deliberate thrust forced soft, broken sounds out of her.
Bakugo's hands gripped the underside of her thighs, holding her open, angling her just right. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed with every movement. She could feel the residual heat of his quirk under his skin, that constant low burn that never quite went away. When she sank her teeth into the side of his neck he growled and fucked into her harder, the controlled rhythm fracturing into something rougher.
The island was definitely going to need to be cleaned. Possibly replaced.
Camie's third orgasm built slower, deeper, coiling tight in her stomach with every grind of his hips. When it finally broke she clung to him, shaking, moaning brokenly against his skin while her walls pulsed around his cock. Bakugo followed her over the edge with a low, rough sound, burying his face against her neck as he came again, filling her a second time.
They stayed like that for a long minute—him still inside her, her legs locked around his waist, both of them breathing hard. Eventually Bakugo straightened, pulled out carefully, and helped her down off the island. Her legs were unsteady. She didn't pretend otherwise. He caught her when she swayed, one arm solid around her waist, and steered her toward the hallway without a word.
The bedroom was dark except for the city lights bleeding in through the half-open blinds. Bakugo didn't bother with the lights. He just stripped what was left of her clothes with efficient, impatient hands—blouse first, then the bra, then the skirt that was still bunched around her waist—and pushed her back onto the bed.
Camie went willingly, scooting up toward the headboard. Bakugo followed, crawling over her, already hard again. She spread her legs without being asked and he sank into her a third time with a low, satisfied sound. This round was slower. Deeper. He braced himself on his forearms and fucked her with long, rolling thrusts that never quite left her empty. Camie wrapped her legs around him and met every one, hands sliding down the sweat-slick muscles of his back.
They didn't talk. They didn't need to.
When she came again it was quieter, a soft, shuddering thing that left her clinging to him. Bakugo followed soon after, burying himself deep and staying there while he pulsed inside her one last time.
Afterward he rolled them so she was half on top of him, still connected, his arm heavy across her back. Camie rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the gradual slowing of his heartbeat. Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, the only sound was the quiet rhythm of their breathing.
The quiet didn't last.
Camie had barely drifted into that loose, heavy-limbed haze when Bakugo's hand slid down the curve of her spine, rough palm dragging slowly over the small of her back and then lower, gripping her full ass and squeezing hard enough that the flesh yielded under his fingers. She made a soft, wordless sound against his chest—half protest, half interest—and felt him shift beneath her. He was already hardening again, the thick length of him pressing insistently against her thigh where she was still half-sprawled across him.
She lifted her head just enough to look at him in the dim city light. His eyes were open, red and sharp and focused entirely on her. No words. Just that look. The one that said he wasn't finished with her yet.
Camie pushed herself up, straddling his hips properly this time. The movement made the mess of their earlier rounds slide wetly between them. She didn't bother wiping any of it away. Instead she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and guided the swollen head right back to her entrance. She was still open, still slick and sensitive from everything he'd already given her, and the first slow sink down onto him punched a low, broken moan out of both of them.
She took every inch in one continuous drop until her ass met his hips and he was buried so deep she could feel the stretch all over again. Bakugo's hands clamped onto her waist immediately, fingers digging in hard enough to leave new bruises over the ones already blooming there. He didn't thrust up yet. Just held her there, impaled, while his thumbs stroked possessive arcs over the soft skin just above her hips.
Camie braced her palms on his chest and started moving.
No slow build. No teasing rolls of her hips. She lifted almost all the way off him and slammed back down, hard, the wet sound of it obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. Again. And again. She set a brutal pace from the start, using the strength in her thighs to fuck herself on his cock with sharp, deliberate drops that forced the air from her lungs every time she bottomed out. Her breasts bounced with the force of it.
Bakugo's eyes tracked the movement, then snapped back up to her face when she clenched deliberately around him on the next downward thrust.
"Fuck—" The word tore out of him rough and low. His hips snapped up to meet her, matching her rhythm with equal force. The impact of it jarred through her entire body. Camie's head dropped back, mouth open, a continuous stream of breathy, desperate sounds spilling out of her as she rode him harder.
One of his hands left her waist to palm her breast, squeezing roughly, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple until it peaked tight and aching. The other hand slid around to grip her ass again, guiding her drops, forcing her down even harder onto him. Every time she sank fully he ground up, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside her until her thighs started to shake.
Camie leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head, and changed the angle. The new position let her grind her clit against his pelvis on every downward roll. The dual sensation—his thick cock stretching her open and the firm pressure against her clit—made her vision blur at the edges. She fucked herself on him faster, chasing it, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room along with her increasingly loud moans.
Bakugo's control frayed fast. He surged up into a sitting position without warning, one arm banding tight around her waist to keep her impaled, the other fist tangled in her hair. The shift drove him even deeper. Camie cried out against his mouth as he kissed her hard, all teeth and tongue, while his hips snapped up in short, vicious thrusts from below. She met every one, grinding down, nails scraping over the scars on his shoulders and back.
They stayed locked like that—her riding him hard, him fucking up into her with equal force—until the coil in her stomach snapped. Camie came with a sharp, broken shout of his name, walls clamping down around his cock in rhythmic pulses. Bakugo growled into her mouth and kept going, fucking her through it, drawing the orgasm out until she was trembling and oversensitive and still rolling her hips for more.
He didn't give her time to come down.
In one smooth, powerful motion he flipped them. Camie's back hit the mattress hard. Bakugo stayed buried inside her the entire time, and the new position let him fold her nearly in half, one of her knees shoved up toward her chest while he braced himself over her and started thrusting in earnest. Deep. Hard. Relentless. The headboard knocked against the wall with every powerful snap of his hips. Camie's hands scrambled for purchase—fisting in the sheets, then in his hair, then dragging down his back hard enough to leave red lines.
"Don't stop," she gasped, voice wrecked. "Katsuki—don't you fucking stop—"
He didn't. He drove into her harder, the wet, filthy sound of their bodies meeting almost continuous now. His mouth found the side of her throat again, biting down over the mark he'd left earlier, sucking hard while he pounded into her. One of his hands shoved between them so he could rub tight, firm circles over her clit in time with his thrusts. The dual assault was almost too much. Camie's second orgasm of the round crashed over her without warning, ripping a raw, high sound from her throat as her body locked up around him.
Bakugo cursed viciously against her skin and followed her over a few thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and grinding deep while he came hard, pulsing thick and hot inside her for the third time that night. He stayed there, hips still making small, involuntary rolls as the last of it left him, forehead pressed to hers, both of them breathing like they'd just finished a fight.
For several long seconds neither of them moved.
Then Camie turned her head and caught his mouth in a slow, filthy kiss, tasting the salt of sweat and the lingering heat of him. Bakugo kissed her back just as thoroughly, one hand still gripping her thigh, keeping her open around him even as he started to soften. When he finally pulled out the slow, wet slide of it made her shiver. Come dripped out of her immediately, soaking into the sheets beneath them. Neither of them cared.
He rolled onto his back beside her, chest still rising and falling hard. Camie stayed sprawled where she was for a moment longer, legs still open, body beautifully used and aching in all the best ways. Then she shifted onto her side, thrown one leg over his, and rested her head on his shoulder again. His arm came around her automatically, heavy and possessive across her back.
Outside, the city lights kept shifting across the ceiling. Inside, the only sounds were their gradually slowing breaths and the quiet, satisfied quiet that always settled between them after nights like this.
Round two had left her deliciously sore. She already knew there would be a round three before morning if either of them had anything to say about it.
Morning light cut through the half-open blinds in thin, pale stripes across the bed.
Camie woke first to the low, steady heat of Bakugo's body along her back and the heavy weight of his arm locked around her waist.
He was still asleep, breathing deep and even against the nape of her neck, one of his thick thighs shoved between hers from the way they'd tangled together sometime after the second round. The sheets were a wreck—kicked halfway down the mattress, damp in places, smelling like sex and the faint residual ozone of his quirk. Her body ached in that deep, satisfying way that only came from being thoroughly used the night before. The bruises on her hips and the bite marks along her throat pulsed faintly when she shifted.
She didn't try to slip away.
Instead she pressed back against him, slow and deliberate, rolling her hips just enough to feel the thick length of his morning hard-on trapped against the curve of her ass. Bakugo made a low, rough sound in his sleep. His arm tightened. Camie did it again, grinding back harder this time, and felt him start to wake—the way his breathing changed, the way his fingers flexed against her stomach, the way his cock twitched and thickened further against her.
His voice was gravel when it finally came, still thick with sleep.
"Camie."
Not a question. Just her name, low and warning and already hungry.
She reached back without looking, found his hip, and tugged him closer until the head of his cock nestled right against the slick heat between her thighs. She was still wet from everything he'd left inside her the night before. The mess of it made the first slow press of him against her entrance almost effortless.
Bakugo's hand slid down from her waist, gripped the underside of one thigh, and hiked it higher, opening her further. He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He pushed in from behind in one long, continuous thrust until he was buried to the hilt and both of them exhaled hard at the same time.
The stretch was different in the morning—slower to bloom, deeper somehow, her body still soft and open and sensitive from the night. Camie moaned into the pillow, low and unrestrained, and pushed back to take him even deeper. Bakugo's forehead dropped to the back of her shoulder. His free arm slid under her, palm spreading wide over her stomach, holding her tight against him while he started to move.
There was nothing gentle about the rhythm he set.
He fucked her in long, powerful strokes from the very first thrust, the wet sound of it obscenely loud in the quiet morning. Every snap of his hips forced her forward into the mattress; every grind at the end kept the head of his cock dragging hard against that perfect spot inside her. Camie's hand fisted in the sheet. Her other arm reached back, fingers digging into his thigh, urging him on. He took the invitation without hesitation, hiking her leg higher still until she was almost split open for him, and then he drove into her harder.
The angle made her see stars.
Bakugo's mouth found the side of her throat, right over the dark bruise he'd left the night before. He bit down again, harder this time, and sucked until she cried out. His hand on her stomach slid lower, rough fingers finding her clit with unerring accuracy. He rubbed firm, relentless circles in time with the brutal thrust of his hips. Camie's moans turned sharp and broken almost immediately. The dual sensation—his thick cock pounding into her from behind and the steady pressure on her clit—had her clenching around him within minutes.
"That's it," he growled against her skin, voice still rough with sleep. "Take it."
She did. She pushed back to meet every thrust, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom. Morning light striped across their bodies, highlighting the flex of his arm around her, the way her breasts bounced with every hard snap of his hips, the fresh marks already blooming darker under his mouth. Bakugo's breathing grew harsher. His rhythm turned almost punishing, the kind of deep, relentless fucking that left no room for anything except the feeling of him stretching her open over and over.
Camie's first orgasm of the morning hit hard and sudden. She came with a raw, high sound, walls clamping down around his cock in tight pulses while her thighs shook against his. Bakugo didn't slow. He fucked her through it, drawing every last tremor out of her until she was gasping and oversensitive and still rolling her hips back for more. Only then did he pull out—just long enough to shove her onto her stomach, yank her hips up, and drive back into her from behind in one brutal thrust.
The new position punched a broken moan out of her. He was deeper like this. Fuller. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise anew and yanked her back to meet every powerful snap of his hips. Camie braced on her forearms, face pressed into the pillow, and took it.
The wet, filthy sound of him fucking into her filled the room. Every thrust forced another desperate sound from her throat. Bakugo's palm slid up her spine, pressed between her shoulder blades, and held her down while he pounded into her with single-minded focus.
She came again before he did—shaking, moaning his name into the pillow, clenching so tightly around him that he cursed viciously and followed her over the edge a handful of thrusts later. He buried himself to the hilt and ground deep as he came, pulsing thick and hot inside her for the fourth time since the night before. Camie felt every spurt, the way his cock twitched with it, and squeezed around him deliberately just to drag another rough, broken sound out of his throat.
They stayed locked together for a long minute afterward, both breathing hard. Bakugo's chest was pressed to her back, one arm still banded around her waist, the other braced on the mattress beside her head. When he finally pulled out the slow, wet slide of it made her shiver. Come dripped down the insides of her thighs immediately. She didn't move to clean it up. Neither did he.
Instead he rolled her onto her back with easy strength, settled between her spread thighs, and looked down at her in the morning light. Her hair was a mess. Her throat and shoulders and hips were marked. Her thighs were shiny with everything he'd left inside her. Bakugo's eyes tracked all of it with open, hungry satisfaction. Then he leaned down, kissed her hard and deep, and reached between them to line himself up again.
He was still hard.
Camie wrapped her legs around his waist without being asked and moaned into his mouth when he pushed back into her in one smooth, deep thrust. Round three wasn't finished yet. He started moving again—slower this time only in the sense that he took his time grinding deep, rolling his hips in tight circles that kept constant pressure on her clit.
Camie clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and met every roll. The wet sound of it was continuous. The stretch of him inside her, still so full from everything he'd already given her, made her eyes flutter shut.
Bakugo fucked her like that for a long time—deep, deliberate, relentless—until she came a third time with a soft, shattered cry against his neck. Only then did he let himself follow, burying his face against her throat and pulsing inside her once more while his hips stuttered through the last of it.
When it was finally over he stayed inside her, forehead pressed to hers, both of them slick with sweat and breathing like they'd just finished a three-hour patrol. Camie's fingers traced idle patterns over the scars on his back. Bakugo's hand stroked slowly up and down her side, possessive and heavy.
Outside, the city was fully awake. Somewhere a train rattled past. Birds argued on the ledge. Inside the apartment the only sound was the quiet, satisfied rhythm of their breathing and the occasional soft, wet shift of their bodies still joined.
Bakugo stayed buried inside her a moment longer, forehead pressed to hers, both of them breathing hard and slow. Camie's fingers drifted lazily over the scars on his back. His hand rested heavy on her hip, thumb tracing one of the fresh bruises he'd left.
Eventually he pulled out with a quiet, wet sound and rolled onto his back, dragging her with him so she ended up half-sprawled across his chest. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left that needed saying.
Camie closed her eyes, listened to the steady thump of his heart beat. It was quiet now.
The short quiet didn't last long.
Camie had barely started to drift again, cheek pressed to Bakugo's chest and one leg thrown over his, when she felt him shift beneath her. Not the restless kind of shift. The purposeful kind. His hand slid from her hip down the back of her thigh, gripped hard, and dragged her fully on top of him in one smooth motion. She made a soft, startled sound that turned into a low moan the second she felt how hard he already was again—thick and hot and insistent against the slick mess between her legs.
She pushed herself up on her hands, looking down at him in the bright morning light. His eyes were open, red and sharp and completely awake now. No words. Just that look. The one that meant he wasn't done taking her apart.
Camie didn't make him wait.
She reached down, wrapped her fingers around him, and guided the swollen head right back to her entrance. She was still open, still dripping from everything he'd already left inside her, and the first slow sink down onto his cock punched a rough, shared groan out of both of them. She took every inch in one continuous drop until her ass met his hips and he was buried so deep she could feel the stretch blooming all over again.
Bakugo's hands clamped onto her waist immediately, fingers digging into the bruises he'd already left. He didn't thrust up yet. Just held her there, impaled, while his thumbs stroked hard arcs over her skin. Camie braced her palms on his chest—feeling the raised scars under her fingers—and started moving.
No slow build. No teasing rolls.
She lifted almost all the way off him and slammed back down, hard, the wet sound of it obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. Again. And again. She set a brutal pace from the start, using the strength in her thighs to fuck herself on his cock with sharp, deliberate drops that forced the air from her lungs every time she bottomed out. Her breasts bounced with the force of it. Bakugo's eyes tracked the movement, then snapped back up to her face when she clenched deliberately around him on the next downward thrust.
"Fuck—" The word tore out of him rough and low. His hips snapped up to meet her, matching her rhythm with equal force. The impact of it jarred through her entire body. Camie's head dropped back, mouth open, a continuous stream of breathy, desperate sounds spilling out of her as she rode him harder.
One of his hands left her waist to palm her breast, squeezing roughly, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple until it peaked tight and aching. The other hand slid around to grip her ass again, guiding her drops, forcing her down even harder onto him. Every time she sank fully he ground up, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside her until her thighs started to shake.
Camie leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head, and changed the angle. The new position let her grind her clit against his pelvis on every downward roll. The dual sensation—his thick cock stretching her open and the firm pressure against her clit—made her vision blur at the edges. She fucked herself on him faster, chasing it, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room along with her increasingly loud moans.
Bakugo's control frayed fast. He surged up into a sitting position without warning, one arm banding tight around her waist to keep her impaled, the other fist tangled in her hair. The shift drove him even deeper. Camie cried out against his mouth as he kissed her hard, all teeth and tongue, while his hips snapped up in short, vicious thrusts from below. She met every one, grinding down, nails scraping over the scars on his shoulders and back.
They stayed locked like that—her riding him hard, him fucking up into her with equal force—until the coil in her stomach snapped. Camie came with a sharp, broken shout of his name, walls clamping down around his cock in tight pulses. Bakugo growled into her mouth and kept going, fucking her through it, drawing the orgasm out until she was trembling and oversensitive and still rolling her hips for more.
He didn't give her time to come down.
In one smooth, powerful motion he flipped them. Camie's back hit the mattress hard. Bakugo stayed buried inside her the entire time, and the new position let him fold her nearly in half, one of her knees shoved up toward her chest while he braced himself over her and started thrusting in earnest. Deep. Hard. Relentless. The headboard knocked against the wall with every powerful snap of his hips. Camie's hands scrambled for purchase—fisting in the sheets, then in his hair, then dragging down his back hard enough to leave fresh red lines over the ones from the night before.
"Katsuki," she gasped, voice wrecked. "Fuck-"
He drove into her harder, the wet, filthy sound of their bodies meeting almost continuous now. His mouth found the side of her throat again, biting down over the dark bruise he'd left earlier, sucking hard while he pounded into her. One of his hands shoved between them so he could rub tight, firm circles over her clit in time with his thrusts. The dual assault was almost too much. Camie's second orgasm of the round crashed over her without warning, ripping a raw, high sound from her throat as her body locked up around him.
Bakugo cursed viciously against her skin and followed her over a few thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and grinding deep while he came hard, pulsing thick and hot inside her again. He stayed there, hips still making small, involuntary rolls as the last of it left him, forehead pressed to hers, both of them breathing like they'd just finished a fight.
For several long seconds neither of them moved.
Then Camie turned her head and caught his mouth in a slow, filthy kiss, tasting the salt of sweat and the lingering heat of him. Bakugo kissed her back just as thoroughly, one hand still gripping her thigh, keeping her open around him even as he started to soften. When he finally pulled out the slow, wet slide of it made her shiver. Come dripped out of her immediately, soaking into the already ruined sheets beneath them. Neither of them cared.
He rolled onto his back beside her, chest still rising and falling hard. Camie stayed sprawled where she was for a moment longer, legs still open, body beautifully used and aching in all the best ways. Then she shifted onto her side, threw one leg over his, and rested her head on his shoulder again. His arm came around her automatically, heavy and possessive across her back.
Outside, the city was fully awake. Inside, the only sounds were their gradually slowing breaths and the quiet, satisfied quiet that always settled between them after rounds like this.
She would leave in the morning the same way she always did—kiss on his mouth, stolen shirt, no promises. But for now she stayed exactly where she was, full and sore and satisfied, while Bakugo's fingers traced idle patterns on the small of her back and the night stretched on around them.
There would be more later. There always was.
For now, this was enough.