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By the time everyone else is gone, Shouto is still huddled up on Katsuki’s couch, taking these prim little sips of his beer.
“You want another?” Katsuki asks. “That’s gotta be warm by now.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto says. Katsuki watches him wrap his arm tighter around his legs. “I was just… wondering.”
Katsuki laughs. “Hurt that pretty little head yet?”
Predictably, the soft swell of Shouto’s lower lip juts out. “Don’t be mean,” he says, stretching like a cat after he sets his half-finished bottle of beer down on a coaster. Always considerate like that. He’s gonna make a sweet little housewife someday.
(Not Katsuki’s, though. So Katsuki really shouldn’t think about it.)
“I’m never mean to you,” Katsuki says. “Thought you figured it out already.”
Shouto bites down on his lower lip. “I did,” he says. “Well… mostly. That’s why I wanted to ask. About what you told Kirishima.”
Katsuki blinks. He told Eijirou a bunch of shit tonight, a good deal of which was incentivized by alcohol stronger than what Shouto kept sipping sitting there like a little princess. Granted, Eijirou drank most of it, but still.
“About what?” he asks.
“Um,” says Shouto. “You know.”
Evidently, Katsuki does not. He does know that seeing Shouto all cozy in his home after everyone else helped clean up and left makes his teeth itch a certain way, but he tries not to think about that too often, so. “Come on,” he says. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“You know,” Shouto insists. “When you were talking about—right before Momo sat in Kyoka’s lap.”
“The idiot got so drunk he wouldn’t shut up,” Katsuki says. “It’s a good thing Pikachu volunteered to drop him off home. How am I supposed to remember?”
“It’s embarrassing,” Shouto whines. “Try a little, please? It was about omegas. And, uh, things alphas like.”
“What, like, in bed?” Katsuki blurts, because—
They don’t do this. Katsuki’s never liked to share too much, and he assumed Shouto was like that too. At least with people who aren’t Ponytail. So he never asked. And it’s not like Shouto ever willingly volunteered any information, god. Katsuki might’ve growled in his face if he had. Stupid alpha instincts. Going around thinking an omega’s yours and no one else should touch him because something ancient and primal in your brain says so and still never doing anything about it.
It’s just—
What are you supposed to do, with an omega like Shouto, short of sinking your teeth in and keeping him forever?
“Mm,” says Shouto. “Yeah, like—like that. When you said—it was, um, about going down? On omegas?”
“Oh,” says Katsuki, and it all falls into place. “When that idiot was going on about his technique.”
Shouto nods. “And you said it’s about having a good time. Do you—do you, um, really like that?”
Katsuki shrugs. “It’s nice,” he says. “And I’ve never gotten complaints.”
And it’s easier. Less vulnerable than popping a knot in some omega that will never compare to the one currently sitting on his couch. They picked it out together. Shouto insisted on helping. And yet. Here they are.
Maybe Katsuki should ask.
(Maybe it’s that easy, who knows?)
“But like…” Shouto’s teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. “You like it? When you’re… um, the one doing it? Because my, uh—I mean, no one I’ve been with has ever wanted to do that? Let alone, uh, shown that much enthusiasm.”
“Shit,” says Katsuki. “No one’s ever eaten you out? Really?”
Shouto shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Never. Usually it’s just a knot. Or toys if they couldn’t keep up with my heats.”
Katsuki licks his teeth. And then he says something potentially very stupid. “You, uh, wanna see what it’s like? I don’t mind. I could show you.”
“Oh,” says Shouto. “I guess you really do like it.”
His cheeks are a little redder than before. Cute bastard. It takes everything in Katsuki not to eat him whole right there. Or do more embarrassing shit like blurt I like you, you idiot.
Shouto’s gotta know. At least—well, at least enough to be okay with asking Katsuki if he really likes eating pussy.
“I’m good at it,” Katsuki says. “I’ll show you, princess.”
Shouto huffs. “You say you’re good at everything.”
It’s almost like flirting. You know, if it weren’t Todoroki Shouto of all people on his couch with the leftovers of his lukewarm peach-flavored beer for company. God, the things that little brat puts in his mouth.
Katsuki licks his teeth. “Yeah,” he says. “And I never lie.”
“Mm,” Shouto says. “You have point there.”
“Right,” Katsuki says. “So let me take care of you.”
It’s easy, really. Brat’s already taking up space on Katsuki’s couch. So, it’s real easy to scoop him up, laugh when Shouto gasps all affronted about how a warning would have been nice.
“You barely weigh a thing, you know,” Katsuki tells him. “You should let Ponytail take you out for more of those chocolate waffles shaped like cat faces you’re always posting on your official accounts.”
Shouto blinks. Fuck, his eyelashes are long. “You check those?” he asks. “I didn’t think you did. I thought you just had some hapless intern hit the like buttons every once in a while to keep up appearances.”
“I like seeing you happy,” Katsuki says. “You deserve it.”
Shouto’s quiet for a breath, arms wrapping tighter around Katsuki’s neck. Like he wants to make sure he’s holding on right. “Thank you,” he says. “You help. With that. With me being happy. In case you didn’t know.”
And, because Katsuki is extremely emotionally well-adjusted now that he’s a little older, he says, “Shut the fuck up, sweetheart,” in response to that.
Shouto pouts again. “Thought you said you weren’t going to be mean to me,” he says. “Thought you kept your promises.”
“All of them,” Katsuki says, holding him tighter. “Every single one. Especially the ones I make to you.”
“Why’s that?” Shouto asks, head tilting to the side the slightest bit, like a confused kitten. “Is it because I’m an omega?”
Katsuki huffs. “It’s because you’re you,” he says. “And you deserve good things.”
And Katsuki has to bite down on his tongue not to tack on baby to that last bit, but it’s already enough of revelation, really. Especially considering the way Shouto’s nose scrunches and his fingers clutch at the fabric of Katsuki’s hoodie.
And then, because apparently Katsuki deserves some more suffering for his hubris, Shouto opens that soft pink mouth, and says, “Is it okay to want you? As—as one of my good things? Or is that too much?”
Katsuki can’t help it. He presses his lips to Shouto’s forehead. He smells like goddamn strawberries, the bastard. He smells like strawberries and he actually likes fruity beer and he’s asking if he can have Katsuki when he’s had him since the first time Katsuki pressed close enough to notice, even if back then it was probably just pinning Shouto to a training mat during a spar and thinking oh, you’re mine, aren’t you?
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Nothing’s too much. You can have anything. I’ll give you anything.”
And then it hits him.
He’s taking Shouto bed. Shouto. His Shouto.
And Shouto’s letting him. And Shouto’s warm and real and letting Katsuki touch him.
“Gonna make you feel good,” Katsuki blurts. “Wanna watch it. Wanna see your face. Wanna see the look on your pretty little face when I make you come for me, princess.”
Shouto whines. “Katsuki,” he says, dragging the word out. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki asks, nipping at his earlobe. “Why’s that?”
“Because I’m wet,” Shouto huffs. “Like—really wet. Here, feel.”
Katsuki puts him down on the bed just in time for Shouto to tug on his wrist, and then he’s got his palm pressed right between Shouto’s legs, can feel the heat of him through the cotton of his sweatpants.
“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses. “Gonna take these off, okay? Is that alright, baby? You going to let me see?”
Shouto nods, so Katsuki gets his fingers underneath the waistband and tugs them down Shouto’s thighs, his skin soft and warmwarmwarm to the touch. His panties are wet. White cotton with a bow at the center, and they’re practically see-through where the fabric stretches over his pussy.
Katsuki wants to kiss him right there. So he does. Leans in and presses his lips to the fabric, gets to feel the way Shouto shivers from such a featherlight touch before he pulls away and blows air over the same spot.
Shouto tries to press his thighs together. “That’s mean too,” he whines. “You’re—you’re not being a very considerate alpha.”
“It’s called anticipation, sweetheart,” Katsuki says. “None of your little boyfriends ever show you?”
“There weren’t that many,” Shouto huffs. “Just—you know. Inasa after high school, and then Momo’s friend from—”
“Hey,” Katsuki interrupts. “It’d be real nice for me if I got to touch your pussy without you talking about dumbass alphas who got it wrong, okay?”
Shouto bites at the inside of his cheek. His face is red. Not just his cheeks, but even across his nose. Because he just has to be all adorable and shit. God. “Okay,” he says softly. “Sorry, alpha.”
Katsuki licks his teeth. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re about to make up for it.”
And then he watches Shouto tug his panties off, and the little brat turns and fucking folds them even if they’re so wet he’s definitely not gonna be putting them back on when they’re done. It’s like he just wants to torture Katsuki, or some shit. Except he’s too good for that, so he’s gotta be doing it by accident.
Not like it matters, anyway. Not when Shouto parts his thighs like a good little omega for Katsuki again, sitting there all prim and proper with his back resting on a pillow against the headboard and waiting for Katsuki to come and show him what getting his little pussy licked is supposed to feel like.
“They ever get you off like this?” Katsuki asks, dragging slick from Shouto’s hole with his thumb and pressing it to his clit. “Ever had an alpha make you sit on their lap and touch you? Just—felt them getting nice and hard for you while they rubbed you here and made you feel good?”
Shouto’s breath hitches. “Thought we—ah, thought we weren’t going to talk about other alphas.”
The corner of Katsuki’s mouth twitches. “I know,” he says. “Just—entertain me on this one.”
“No,” Shouto admits. “Never. It’s—it’s usually pretty straightforward. One of them liked to, um, to call me things. And—they weren’t always nice things, actually, and sometimes I didn’t mind, but—god, it’s embarrassing. I think I cried once.”
Which is just—
Great, actually. Katsuki was trying to ease Shouto into it and now he’s gotta figure out which one of Shouto’s limp-dick good-for-nothing alphas did that shit to him so he can strangle the bastard with his own tie.
He’s obviously gotta make Shouto come first, though.
“Shh,” Katsuki says. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about any of them. I’m sorry I brought it up. Keep your eyes on me, okay?”
“Okay.” Shouto nods. And then he’s pulling his own lip between his teeth because Katsuki goes back to rubbing at his clit with his thumb.
“Sensitive little baby, huh?” he teases. “Think I could make you squirt?”
“I don’t know.” Shouto lets out a soft whine. “I’ve never—I don’t know.”
“Guess we’ll figure it out tonight,” says Katsuki. “But I bet I can make your cute little pussy squirt.”
“Katsuki,” Shouto says, but Katsuki gets a front row seat to his pussy clenching around nothing as it drips more slick, the shine of it stark against softwarmpink.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Katsuki says, awed. “You always get like this?”
“During my heats, yes,” Shouto says. He sounds like he might cry. “Usually not—outside of them, though.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki says, and then he’s dipping a finger inside even if this wasn’t supposed to be about that, but Shouto’s fucking perfect, so how—how are you supposed to survive that, when this might be your only chance? How are you supposed not to reach out and just take and take and take until Shouto’s gasping from it, wet with slick and sweet on the tip of your tongue?
(Katsuki sure as hell doesn’t know. And he doesn’t think he’d figure it out even if they let him have all the time in the world.)
When he gets to two fingers, spreads them and stretches Shouto’s pussy before leaning in to suck on his clit, Shouto lets out a sound that will forever be engraved in whatever part of his brain is responsible for storing the things he’ll remember if he makes it to one hundred. He’ll probably have all of three things left in there by then, and two of them are guaranteed to be Shouto’s favorite food and the sound he makes when you stretch that tiny little pussy on your fingers.
Tastes sweet too. Taste sweet and tugs on Katsuki’s hair with both hands when Katsuki flattens his tongue and goes from trying to dip it inside along with his fingers to licking up Shouto’s clit. And then he pulls away and spits all the slick he gathered back out, watches it shine as it drips down Shouto’s puffy clit.
He’s so pink. So pink and wet and perfect, and Katsuki doesn’t know how he’s gonna go in for his shift Monday knowing all that and try to save people like nothing happened, when—
When everything did.
Shouto’s dripping slick for him. On his sheets. On the sheets that smell like Katsuki, where he sleeps and dreams and thinks of Shouto, although not always like this. Sometimes they’re just talking. Sometimes Shouto wakes up from the sun peeking through the blinds, and his face scrunches and he whines about it being way too early and Katsuki gets to kiss his forehead, his nose, his chin, his soft pink mouth.
(They’re nice dreams, all of them.)
“Come on,” Katsuki says. “Come for me, princess. I wanna see it. Wanna feel your pussy clenching around me.”
“Stop talking about it,” Shouto says, one of his hands finally leaving Katsuki’s hair to—Katsuki assumes—end up slung over his face to hide, or something equally adorable and just as likely to make Katsuki wanna bite him, but he keeps his thighs spread like a good little omega, and Katsuki keeps licking at him until the heat around his fingers goes tighttighttight, and then—
It’s a lot wetter, all of a sudden.
“There you go,” Katsuki says, pleased, pressing wet a kiss to the inside of Shouto’s thigh. “Did so well for me. Told you I could make you squirt.”
“Oh my God,” says Shouto. Katsuki looks up just in time to see his chest rising and falling as he gasps. “That was—I’ve never—canwedothatagain?”
Katsuki blinks. Then, he bursts out laughing. “Right now?” he asks, and then he gives Shouto’s clit a little lick anyway, just because he can. Because Shouto’s here, his thighs still twitching a little from squirting all over Katsuki’s bed.
“Ah.” Shouto yelps. “Sensitive.”
“You’re so fucking hot, you know,” Katsuki says. It comes out a lot more even and less stupidly lovesick than he thought it would. “Could stay here and watch you come forever.”
The corner of Shouto’s mouth twitches. “Just watch?” he asks, and then he’s scooting up a little and reaching between his own thighs to—fuck.
To make sure Katsuki watches, apparently.
“Always—ah, always hurts a little, the second time,” Shouto says. “But I like it. It’s like—good hurt, you know? I always—it feels so empty inside after the first time.”
Katsuki watches. Katsuki watches, so damn awed this might be the closest he’ll ever get to believing in something sacred, and Shouto’s delicate fingers dip inside his pussy to drag more slick out, spread his puffy folds so he can rub tight, quick little circles against his clit, so shiny with slick and spit—Katsuki’s spit, god—it’s a wonder he can get any decent friction.
“Let me put my knot in you,” Katsuki blurts. “That’ll fill you up.”
And Shouto—
Well, Katsuki gets to watch the way his pussy clenches when he makes himself feel good, gasping these soft little ah, ah, ahs that fall from his perfect lips just to make Katsuki’s cock twitch and strain painfully against the fabric of his underwear, and then Shouto comes again, like the first time was just the practice round.
“Okay,” Shouto gasps. “Okay, you can put it in.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki says.
He blinks, and suddenly he’s got a hand wrapped around his flushed, hard cock, the wet head pressing against Shouto’s hole. He drags it back and forth once, twice, and then it slides in so fucking easy it’s like Shouto was made for him, soft like silk and so fucking warm inside.
“It’s big,” Shouto says, because he’s evidently trying to kill him. “Feels nice. I like it.”
Katsuki lets out the most embarrassing, absurdly pathetic grunt of his life when he slides home, and he barely attempts half a thrust before his knot catches. “Fuck,” he hisses, slumping above Shouto with a hand pressed to the headboard to keep himself steady, Shouto’s hands scratching gently through his hair while he murmurs you did well, alpha, and he’s soclose and he smells sosweet and—
Katsuki presses his face to Shouto’s neck, scrapes his teeth over his collarbone. “Wanna keep you,” he growls, another spurt of warm come spilling inside when Shouto clenches around him. “Let me keep you, princess. I’ll make you feel good. Won’t—won’t have to worry about stupid alphas who can’t even get it up for your heats anymore, promise.”
“You’ll take care of it?” Shouto asks. “Are you going to keep my pussy full during my heats, Katsuki?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, almost a whine, almost a damn plea. He’d beg. He doesn’t mind, he’d beg if he gets Shouto out if it. “Just let me bite you, sweetheart.”
Shouto laughs. “Are you worried?” he asks. “Do you think I won’t say yes?”
“Maybe,” Katsuki admits. It’s easy, admitting these things when Shouto’s so close Katsuki can lick the sweat off him, when everything he breathes in is all him. Shouto warm and real and firm under his hands and around his cock. “You’re pretty much the only thing I get scared about, these days.”
“Oh,” says Shouto. “Well, um. You don’t have to, you know.”
“You sure?” Katsuki asks. “Want you so fucking bad it makes my teeth itch, princess.”
“Yes,” Shouto says. “I’m sure. I really like you.”
“Is that why you let me pop a knot in you?”
“Maybe,” Shouto says, dragging the word out. “It’s also really big. That didn’t hurt.”
It’s warm. He’s warm. His hands are warm when he cups Katsuki’s face, eyes big and soft and warmwarmwarm when they meet Katsuki’s, mouth plush and warm and perfect when the swell of his lower lip just barely brushes against Katsuki’s.
“You can bite me,” Shouto says. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
It’s all just—warm.
“Don’t worry,” Katsuki says. “We’ve got time.”
And then he’s too busy kissing him for real, because that’s the first thing he should have done. Should’ve done it back at graduation, when he caught Shouto fiddling with his cap and gown sitting in a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest and he looked up at Katsuki with his eyes wet and told him it’s all going to be different now, isn’t it? Or maybe when he was barely twenty and Shouto sat by his hospital bed the whole night and vehemently refused to budge even if the doctors said it was just a rough concussion, and the first thing Katsuki did when he woke up was reach for him. Or—
Or maybe now, and tomorrow, and the day after. And then they’ll see. Because they have time.
“Gonna keep you forever,” Katsuki says. Promises. “Want you forever, sweetheart.”
Shouto smiles. It tastes sweet. Sweeter than anything.