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"Shota," Hizashi's voice drags, catching on the upper edge of baritone and then flattening out, sounds muffled and added to by his harsh breathing, by the low hum permeating the silence that can't be misinterpreted as anything but his quirk.
Aizawa's fingers press into his abdomen, lips shuddering over his neck and the sounds forthcoming turn higher, fluctuating through a wider range and hitching and breaking just enough to go straight to Aizawa's stuttering self control not to lose himself in that voice, and that Hizashi's body doesn't stutter the same way is both infuriating and unfair; makes Aizawa crave to know what exactly will drive him that far but knowing that Hizashi is already pretty far gone just judging by his expression and the way his thighs squeeze around Aizawa's hips.
His golden hair is splayed out around his face, strands tangling carelessly and draping over his neck so when Aizawa's fingers scratch his scalp, move up to cradle the back of his head, he gasps, the hum turning to an impossible sound. "Hizashi you're-"
"I- I can't-!"
It's difficult to separate his voice and quirk normally but when his defenses are lowered enough not to try to separate them, they mix and swirl into resounding echoes that pound through Aizawa's skull like heavy bass beats and a harmonious middle toned jitter, woven through with some kind of melody like he's a siren.
Him not being able to control it is one thing, Aizawa not being able to get enough is another. At least one can be admitted.
"Shota-!" The ricochet snap of his quirk in desperation leaves tingles in his ears and causes the window glass to vibrate, and for some reason that worsens his already low self control. It's still lowering, and Hizashi with his absolutely illegal noises is not helping in the slightest. The sound of desperation comes more from the pull of his fingers over Aizawa's skin, from his torso to his back and shoulders, down to grip at his upper arms where he still has his own hands in Hizashi's soft hair, tugging slightly.
And then Aizawa bites his neck. Which could've been a mistake, considering, "Ahn--kh--Shota--!" And Hizashi turns on instinct but Aizawa won't have it, can't have it, wants that sound again, so his fingers grip Hizashi's jaw gently and raise it, only half putting in the effort when he turns it to get better access to his neck because Hizashi gives easily, not going quiet for a second. The apple of his throat is thrumming and the faint hum is growing lower like the taut strings of an instrument near snapping.
And then his entire body arches with the intensity of his scream, all but destroying Aizawa's eardrums and the pulsating silence that follows only irritates Aizawa in the time it takes to hear Hizashi again, to have more of him, of his voice, of that expression he's making, green eyes practically glowing even with his half-lidded, haze gaze as he turns to Aizawa, golden lashes framing his eyes, bright in the dim lighting of the room as Aizawa brushes back his tangled hair from his face.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I-"
Aizawa doesn't answer, lets one hand slide along the downward cut of his waist to his hips, admiring his long legs and soft skin. When Hizashi cries out again, albeit with less intensity than before, Aizawa's eyes cloud with control not to cancel out the effect, and Hizashi closes his eyes anyway, brows furrowing as his lips quiver slightly, not quite ready to shut while moans are still being wrenched from his throat. He leans over, warm breath ghosting over Hizashi's many ear piercings as his lip brushes one of the metal rings with a soft groan.
Hizashi's knee presses his thigh, slips and pushes the sheets away, and that too is desperation in it's own way. His hands shiver, and they hold on almost gingerly to Aizawa's upper arms, pressing harder with where his skin is touched. The curve of his jaw is a light twitch, though incoherent garble pours out of his mouth when Aizawa bites, running his tongue over the mark and relishing the rise and fall of his chest, ragged and uneven as his shoulders dip.
His neck is a full on the sensitivity scale that Aizawa won't admit he knows; he can't help but make noises when Aizawa kisses or bites there, and though Hizashi is apologising continuously, he also knows he doesn't have to. Aizawa just knows, where to touch and kiss and bite and press to get Hizashi to make which kind of sound and secretly he thinks Hizashi may also know that and love it nonetheless.
With his nape it's a scream. His hands scramble to cover it always, because it's also just a bit ticklish, so this is Aizawa's own personal secret, and pretty much a trump card. It takes time to regain his hearing, but the swirling cascading mess of sounds before that is worth it.
With his collarbone it's a drawn out whine, accompanied by a louder, resonating hum than the one that's always thrumming through him, made louder and more raw by the absence of his directional speaker to filter his voice.
The junction of his neck and shoulder is almost a jerk reaction, a cut off sound, eyes widening and grip tightening, and if Aizawa kisses slow his eyes shut, eyebrows knit together and his voice comes out soft and sweet, like music.
Hizashi's throat is the most sensitive, but also the most likely to cause an extreme reaction with his quirk, so Aizawa doesn't bite unless he doesn't mind losing his hearing for a while. It's always been worth it though, especially for the way Hizashi's lips quiver, fingers catch in Aizawa's hair almost pleading to connect their lips instead. Aizawa never loses the chance to be smug about that, but only to himself.
The worst part of Hizashi Yamada is that everyone likes him to speak for a reason; it's alluring. And Aizawa, who's kissed him dazed and senseless before has nothing to blame it on, nothing but his own affliction. He does love listening to Hizashi speak, and Hizashi seems never to have minded either, just like he doesn't as of now, when it's not just speaking. He should know what his voice does to Aizawa like this.
But this idiot's normal voice thrums with the rhythm of his quirk and Eraserhead is weak for every sound he makes.