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Katsuki says nothing as he drops onto the couch and curls against Izuku’s side. There’s an old sitcom on the TV, no doubt autoplayed after Izuku finished whatever he was actually watching and then got distracted.
He isn’t wearing a shirt. Just his pajama pants and socks and his reading glasses that keep sliding down his nose. They never stay up. Nerd doesn’t even know Katsuki already ordered a pair for his birthday that will stay up on his nose bridge better.
Katsuki hasn’t gotten tired of looking at Izuku—probably never will. His sturdy arms and his freckled shoulders and chest and the soft layer of fat that covers his stomach are all on display. And he always says Katsuki is too much for walking around shirtless. Katsuki likes it, for sure—the way Izuku’s eyes follow him. But Izuku’s just as bad. Worse, actually, 'cause he’s not even trying to show off.
Katsuki curls up tighter and works his face into the warm space under Izuku’s chin. He kisses at the protrusion of his Adam's apple.
“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku acknowledges, one hand coming to cup the back of his head.
“Hi.” Katsuki kisses again, lower, then lower still. Right above Izuku’s collarbone. Lower—underneath it on the relaxed curve of his pectoral. He’s been bulking for a while now, and all the soft, thick muscle almost has Katsuki’s gums itching to bite.
There’s a series of clicks on the trackpad, the clatter of the keyboard chasing right behind. Katsuki bites down on Izuku’s pec. It’s gentle, all things considered, but Izuku jumps and his hand curls harder around the back of Katsuki’s head.
“Alright.” It almost comes out like a squeak. The other hand taps a few more times at his keyboard. He’s on a thirty-three page document of ramblings about Shouto’s quirk usage in the field, cursor blinking at the end of a ridiculous run-on sentence about his and Chargebolt’s teamwork.
Just as Katsuki’s teeth start to close around his nipple this time, Izuku shrinks away from it and snaps the laptop closed. “So impatient, Kacchan,” he says in that breathy voice that Katsuki loves.
The way Izuku pulls at a lock of hair to scold him sends a pulse of energy through Katsuki, and he scrapes his teeth over freckled skin as he retreats, one more time for good measure. Then his weight shifts into his hands, pressing himself closer with one foot on the floor. It’s a little clumsy, with one palm on the couch cushion and one on Izuku’s thigh, Izuku’s hands hovering and guiding as Katsuki bends lower to mouth down the center of his chest.
Katsuki takes note of his own heartbeat. Quickened. Eager. He straightens up a little, and their eyes meet.
Hm. Appropriately flustered—that’s good. Katsuki’s not losing his touch.
Izuku’s hand forms a warm circle around his wrist, eyes still heavy on Katsuki’s, and slowly but surely, he drags it up. Lays Katsuki’s palm against the living muscle of his abdomen, slides it up over his heart.
Katsuki licks his lips. He’d been letting his eyes follow the movement, but one more look up at Izuku’s face now confirms things. He’s pink-cheeked, wide-eyed, wanting. The faint drum of his heartbeat reaches up through muscle and skin.
It’s been a little while. Not that Katsuki’s counting the days, but Izuku’s been busy with work for about the last nineteen.
But he’s sliding his glasses off now, and they find a place on the end table with a soft click. The rough texture of his palm cups the back of Katsuki's hand—a small adjustment—and he moves Katsuki with him again.
Down, down, fingers gliding over the topography of muscle as Izuku’s body moves with his breath. Katsuki’s hand brushes through the coarse hair low on his stomach, and goosebumps dapple his arms. Eyes locked together, Izuku pushes Katsuki’s hand down the last bit so it molds over the shape of his cock.
“Yeah?” Izuku checks.
Katsuki swallows, and his fingers twitch like agreement. “Yeah.” It scrapes out lower and huskier than he meant it to. But the pajama pants are doing almost nothing to separate them and Izuku is warm through the thin barrier.
Izuku’s face is arresting, but so is the rest of him. Even at rest, sitting down, there’s a hidden strength there. That trail of dark hair above his waistband has Katsuki’s mouth watering. He strokes the fingertips of his other hand over it, pads catching on the curls, knuckles bumping where they meet the drawstring waist of the pants.
“Just gonna make you feel good,” he says.
Izuku’s hips shift under him, and his cock stirs against Katsuki’s palm.
He’s smiling when he leans forward to kiss Katsuki’s cheek, then his mouth. It’s enthusiastic, a little more forceful and wet than Katsuki expected until he reigns it in and slows it down and then withdraws. That’s his Izuku—always walking a tightrope between morenoweverything, and a desperate need to savor the things he still can’t believe he gets to have.
It’s painfully understandable; they’re the same in this.
They’ve been working on compromising, taking turns, because they can’t both be the one doing all the giving.
The rug cushions Katsuki’s kneecaps when he reaches the floor. He didn’t buy a real fluffy one with this in mind, but both his and Izuku’s knees and various other body parts have thanked him over the months of getting well acquainted with it.
“What time do you work on Saturday?”
“Focus.” Katsuki pinches his thigh, and Izuku jumps.
“Okay,” Izuku whispers. “Sorry, Kacchan.”
Katsuki breathes in and out. His hand is still on Izuku’s bulge. He rolls his palm down a few times, curls his fingers. Massages until Izuku’s legs spread and he pushes into the touch. Katsuki moves into the space, and Izuku hips shift closer to the edge of the couch while his body reclines back.
The curls on his abdomen are so dark green they’re black in most lighting. His cock is soft and thick—always so fucking obvious like this. In these light colored pants with no underwear underneath. Makes Katsuki’s mouth water.
How many months—years, even—did he spend stealing glances at Izuku’s dick print in the dorms, then in his suit, then around the apartment, trying to swallow back the desire to touch, feel, taste?
He almost never holds it back these days. He keeps palming Izuku, fingers curling to feel out the shape that his hands have gotten so used to. “You feeling patient today?”
Izuku smiles. “Mhm. Yeah, Kacchan.”
Katsuki leans in, hands sliding to Izuku’s thighs. His nose finds the happy trail first, nudging into the scattering of hair, and his lips aren't far behind. He looks up at Izuku as he mouths over it. Izuku is everything from this vantage point—almost too much to handle.
Katsuki makes his eyes wide and soft because Izuku always thinks he looks good like this underneath him.
Pretty, he says. Handsome. Perfect.
Caught up and simmering with heat, Katsuki kisses slowly at the dips of Izuku’s hips, his stomach just above the waistband of his pants. The freckled skin is warm under his lips.
He looks at Izuku when he kisses again and lets his lips part and melt. Then drags them back together, a whisper of gentle suction on Izuku’s skin before they open and kiss again, tongue this time. Izuku’s sigh is gentle on his ears, just a quiet, “Kacchan.” Then Katsuki moves sideways, working toward the crest of Izuku’s hip that stands out when he arches his body.
“Mm,” he mumbles. “So sweet today. You’re so good to me.”
And Katsuki really should be past shyness now, but no matter how many times they’ve been close like this, his face still gets hot when Izuku first praises him. Puts so much warmth in his cheeks he almost can’t look up again.
But he’s not a quitter. And with his mouth sliding below Izuku’s hip and his knees on the floor, he has to see Izuku’s face—half-lidded eyes and posture dripping with easy, relaxed confidence. Fuck.
Katsuki tucks his face close and buries it in Izuku’s stomach, mashes his nose there and closes his eyes. Fucking hell. Izuku laughs, hand cradling the back of his head, and holds Katsuki there so he knows he doesn’t have to pull back yet. Fingers stroke through the hair at Katsuki’s nape while he hides.
Breathing only pulls the faint scent of soap and sweat and skin into his nose. “You’re a menace,” Katsuki grumbles with no heat behind the words.
“I am?” Izuku’s other hand finds his jaw, thumbing over his cheek. “Whatever you say, Kacchan.”
He knows there’s nothing Katsuki likes more than knowing he’s doing a good job.
“Mhm. Whatever I say.” Katsuki nuzzles where he is, and Izuku shivers as his breath fans out. His hand clutches Katsuki’s head closer for another second before the hold relaxes. His fingers stay woven into Katsuki’s hair, though—a gentle safety neck at the base of his skull.
“Your lips look all glossy.” Izuku’s thumb traces the bottom one, tugs it down at the center. The very tip of his thumb skims Katsuki’s gumline and then he releases.
“Vaseline.” Katsuki frowns up at him. He always puts it on when he does skincare; Izuku knows that.
“Looks pretty. Shiny.”
Katsuki rubs his lips together while he wills away any of his own tells and considers Izuku’s relaxed body spread out for him. He's been craving Izukuf or days.
Hair drags against Katsuki’s lips as he slides his mouth down from his navel until the heat of Izuku’s cock is palpable. Katsuki can’t help rubbing his face against it. His cheek, his nose, his slack mouth.
This part is fun. Katsuki’s never been recognized as a patient person, but in this, there’s no need to rush. No destination of higher importance that he’s trying to get to. The destination is the process, the slow unraveling of both of them.
Izuku’s scent is overshadowed by laundry detergent like this, but Katsuki’s own body responds to the gradual hardening against his cheek anyways. He shifts, his thighs pressing together for a moment of blissful friction. Then Izuku’s abs flex and his thighs and hips ease forward. Katsuki makes a sound. He mouths at the outline of Izuku's cock. It’s just barely tenting out the fabric of his pants, still heavy enough to stay down.
Pressing his face to the warm bulge is satisfying, so Katsuki keeps breathing through his mouth, trying to suck in enough air as he nudges his face into the fabric. It's wash-worn enough for the shape to lie distinct underneath—a pulsing heat that turns Katsuki’s stomach melty. He can trace his lips up the shaft, even over the ridge of the head softened by his foreskin. If he teases long enough, he’d be able to suck at the wet spot that would form. He’d be able to make it wetter.
And the harder Izuku gets, the clearer the outline is under his pants. Katsuki pulls the fabric with one hand and makes it taut enough to highlight the slight swell of Izuku’s balls underneath. He mouths at them too, nose nudged up under his clothed cock.
Soft. Katsuki keeps the pressure of his mouth light, and Izuku rewards him with a pleased hum and a sigh. Canned laughter plays faintly from the TV, inane and easy to ignore.
Katsuki suckles the tip of Izuku’s cock through his pants. It earns a sharp intake of breath and a moan of Kacchan that makes Katsuki throb. He wets the crotch of Izuku’s pajama pants with his spit until it molds to the shape of his cock. Another soft, teasing suck.
“Kacchan…” Izuku tosses his head back against the couch. “You got me so hard.”
“Would hurt my feelings if you weren’t,” Katsuki mutters. The heel of his hand barely rolls down against the give of Izuku’s balls.
Izuku’s smiling, from what he can see. “Mm, no need. Look at this.” He uses the hand at the back of Katsuki’s head to bring him in again, pushing Katsuki’s face into his bulge. “I’m so hard now. Yeah?”
Katsuki moans against him, and Izuku makes another noise at the vibration.
His thigh pillows the side of Katsuki’s head, a gentle rest while he places a kiss to the shaft of Izuku’s cock. Another, then his head lifts so he can suck at the tip.
“Kacchan,” Izuku urges, voice strained. “Mm, take me out now.”
Katsuki shakes his head, eyes hot on Izuku’s face, mouth close enough that his lips still touch the wet cotton.
“Come on.” Izuku bucks his hips against Katsuki’s face.
“Nn.” Katsuki sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth again, fabric dragging. It must feel so sensitive. He wants to taste him through it, wants the satisfaction of knowing he’s leaking before he’s even undressed to show it.
“Baby…”
“Said you’d be patient.”
“I say a lot of things,” Izuku breathes.
Katsuki snaps the waistband of Izuku’s pajama pants and drinks down his breathless laugh like second nature. “Say something nice,” he urges. It comes out rough. This time, his cheeks really are too red to look up at Izuku.
“Where do I even start?” Izuku sighs. “Mm.” His hips flex up harder when Katsuki kisses him through the fabric. “Your mouth is so good.”
Katsuki kisses harder and laps at the head of his cock, the cloth weave rough on his tongue.
“And you look so handsome for me. Look at you…” His voice has gone shaky. “Has Kacchan ever been on his knees for anyone else?
Katsuki grunts.
“Hm?”
“No.”
“Just me,” Izuku says, smug possession in his voice. He’s rutting steadily against Katsuki’s slack lips. “I’m so lucky, huh? Get to… see Kacchan’s pretty face. His pretty mouth open…”
Katsuki opens wider on cue and laves at the head of Izuku’s cock again. God, there—he moans out loud when he tastes it.
“That’s it,” Izuku breathes. “That what you wanted?”
“Yeah.” Katsuki licks him in the kittenish way Izuku likes, and smiles when his eyes squeeze closed. Another firmer lick and his own eyes almost roll back at the salt and musk of precum on his tongue. His hips work forward against his own underwear and pants.
Katsuki’s close to panting.
“Go ahead now,” Izuku urges him, thrusting into the air. “Kacchan.”
Katsuki can’t figure out a line, a reply of any kind for a few seconds too long while he moves his hands, and then it’s too late to say anything. His quickened breathing and the eagerness of his movement speak for him.
But he’s not rushing yet. He makes sure he isn’t. Cause they like things dragged out. Izuku likes to enjoy the view for a while.
It had taken forever for him to come around to the idea of Katsuki spending time on him and him alone. Because he always wants to make Katsuki feel good, can’t stand not to. Katsuki had to spell it out clearly for Izuku to get that one of the best ways to make Katsuki feel good is to let him do this. And to treat him how he can barely bring himself to admit he likes while he does it.
A whole series of stilted conversations, and now Katsuki is reaping the fruits of his labor.
He tugs the loose drawstring tie free and pulls at the waistband so he can maneuver it down. Izuku adjusts his posture to help, but he doesn't raise a hand to fish himself out. He lets Katsuki reach in to gently cradle him, stretch the waistband further and tuck the worn-out elastic under his balls.
The trail of dark hair continues and spreads out, denser over his pubic bone, nestled around the base of his perfect cock. Katsuki dips back down to wedge his face there without anything in the way this time. The subtle musk is intoxicating. Clean after bathing earlier in the evening, but distinctly masculine and human and Izuku.
He sighs, and Izuku shakes with a quiet laugh. “Happy?” he murmurs.
“Mhm. You?”
“Very.” Izuku’s voice is low and nice.
His palm cradles Katsuki’s face. It has him pinned, his face held between Izuku’s hand on his left cheek and his cock on the right. His stiff, thick cock.
Katsuki nuzzles into Izuku’s palm, presses a searching kiss into it. His eyelids flutter closed and he swallows hard.
Then he turns his head to the other side, away from Izuku’s hand to nose along his cock instead. It’s hot with blood and so familiar, with the slight tang of sweat and precum. Katsuki resists the urge to press the heel of his hand down between his own legs.
Izuku is so hard. God, that’s nice—the rigid shaft under velvety skin, nudging at Katsuki's cheek and his slack mouth. He closes his eyes to feel, to rub his cheek against it more and breathe him in.
“Mm, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers. “That’s a good boy.” His knuckles bump Katsuki's cheekbone as he reaches down to grip himself at the base. His hand is big, callused and strong and criss-crossed with veins. His cock is bigger.
Spit pools in Katsuki's mouth.
“You like it?” Izuku whispers. He uses his grip to tap his cock lightly to Katsuki's cheek.
Eyes closing, Katsuki moans. “Yeah.”
Feels good to make himself sound a little bit slutty for Izuku. And it works. Has Izuku making a desperate noise above Katsuki, tapping his cock harder against his cheek. They live in a high rise—a warren of people above, below, left, right—but Katsuki’s world has narrowed to what matters.
The tip of Izuku’s cock leaves a wet spot on Katsuki's cheekbone when he slaps him with it again, and Katsuki whines.
“Kacchan, you like my cock?”
“Mhm.” Katsuki opens his mouth and lets his tongue loll out.
“Look at you,” Izuku breathes. He strokes the very tip of his cock against Katsuki’s tongue, then draws back. “Haahh—go ahead, you—you can touch, Kacchan.”
Still slow—slower than the ache of want would normally have him moving. Because Izuku should be appreciated, and Katsuki will take the time to do it right.
His parted lips find the head, and he ducks all the way down and pulls back up with silky ease. His mouth is just a loose seal, but Izuku’s cock is shiny when he releases it.
Just once for now, even though it feels good on his tongue.
Katsuki keeps his lips feather soft as he kisses down the underside of Izuku’s shaft. Then dips to reach the delicate skin of his balls.
Izuku hums and strokes his hair. Katsuki mouths at him, spreads his own legs wider to sit lower to the ground, farther underneath Izuku until he’s angled just right for the weight of his balls to drape across his cheek. He turns his head again and moans so it vibrates through every nerve, gets Izuku to shiver.
Katsuki breathes out. Then slow, steady, sucks one into his mouth. Izuku groans. The skin is velvet soft and moves easily in his mouth, rolling over the firm flesh underneath. Holding this fragile, unprotected part of Izuku safe in his mouth is a gift.
Katsuki opens, lolls his tongue out so he can switch to the other side.
Izuku’s head digs fitfully against the back of the couch. “Yeah, there we go,” he says. His back arches when Katsuki sucks.
Oh that’s nice—Izuku’s hand tightening in his hair. Katsuki almost whimpers. Izuku’s other arm is splayed across the back of the couch, easy and loose limbed, but the hand on Katsuki’s head puts enough gentle pressure to make sure he knows where to stay. No pulling back, no sitting up or crawling up higher.
Katsuki’s cock throbs between his legs, his belly flipping. He sucks again, and opens to breathe out warm air and draw in the musk of Izuku’s body. Licking over his balls with soft laps of his tongue gets another breathless sound from Izuku.
Katsuki looks up for his reactions with hazy eyes. Izuku’s eyebrows always angle up when he feels good, and he can’t keep his mouth shut, in either sense.
“So pretty… suck a little bit more, Kacchan,” he guides, and Katsuki repeats the whole circuit, molasses-slow. “That’s good,” Izuku pants. “So good, love.”
Katsuki noses at his balls, as light as he can, and kisses up to where it meets his cock. He’s ready now; ready for the real thing, Izuku’s cock in his mouth. “Izuku,” he mumbles, low and without breaking the skin-to-skin contact. It makes the sound vibrate through his balls and has Katsuki’s lips brushing against them in the subtle forming of the word.
He rubs his palms up Izuku’s muscled thighs, back and forth, and raises himself an inch higher on his knees.
“Mm.” Izuku lets him, and then Katsuki’s mouth is grazing the underside of his cock, the sensitive stretch of his frenulum through the foreskin.
There’s almost nothing more natural than to slip his tongue out and taste. Kitten licks that dissolve in seconds into a soft sucking kiss at the very tip of Izuku’s cock.
He’s been at this for long enough that another little bead of moisture wells there, salty and astringent and tingling in the back of Katsuki’s mouth. He swallows it down and licks again. Fuck, Izuku’s hard enough for the flushed head of his cock to peek through the foreskin. It’s all shiny with Katsuki’s saliva now, and he teases his tongue around that junction of skin.
“My hands?” Katsuki checks.
“Yeah,” Izuku groans. “Kacchan’s hands are so nice.”
Katsuki bites at his lip for a second, pulling his right hand away from the death grip he has on the fabric of his own pants. The other stays on Izuku’s thigh, but his now free hand strokes up and down, an easy grip. He curls his fingers around the base of his cock and steadies it. He’s thick in Katsuki’s hold, hot and smooth. The shaft is punctuated by curving veins and the dots of tiny moles.
Katsuki lifts Izuku enough to kiss one on the underside, and then relaxes the hold so the heft of Izuku’s cock settles against his cheek. He looks up at Izuku from under it, rubs against it.
Like a cat, Izuku had said once. It had made Katsuki flush so hard his head spun. The idea of Izuku putting little ears on him and calling him kitten. Stupid, that something that cliche and ridiculous turned him on.
Just Izuku’s effect on him.
And now his hands are guiding Katsuki onto his cock, and Katsuki’s mouth opens like a flipped switch. He takes it in with greedy suction, and groans at how eagerly Izuku presses his head down. Only Katsuki’s hand curled around the base keeps him from gagging.
He moves that safety net away slowly though, strokes his fingers against Izuku’s happy trail and the crease of his hip. He lets Izuku ease him deeper.
“That’s so good, Kacchan. Don’t even need your hand, huh?”
Katsuki hums agreement. Every lift up by his hair and push back down takes him farther until his lips are centimeters from touching those dark curls. It’s slow—so slow it almost hurts.
“Look at me, come on—look up.” His eyes drift up, taking his time roaming over Izuku’s chest before opening wider as he takes Izuku all the way to the base. “Shit—hahh.” He must look good. Izuku’s lips press together, white from pressure, and then his mouth opens. “You wanna do the work, Kacchan?”
Izuku lets him up so he can speak. It’s just wet panting over the head of his cock for a second, until he can catch his breath and get out a low, “Yeah.” Katsuki’s spit wells up over his lower lip and drips—connects him to Izuku. “I’ll do it. I’ll take care of you.”
Izuku’s eyes do something pretty at that. Soft and achy and terribly endeared before they squeeze shut. “Thank you, baby.”
Katsuki sucks him back in and bobs his head, eyes on Izuku’s face. His hands are loose in Katsuki’s hair now, and then the left one leaves to cup his cheek, stroke at where it hollows around him. The metal of his ring is cool on Katsuki’s skin.
Katsuki’s chest rises and falls faster now, excitement bubbling under his skin. Sucking Izuku’s cock always gets him so excited, turns him on so much to be down on his knees. Makes him so hard, so needy. He’s pulsing hot between his legs, and squeezes them together to give himself something. He moans as he goes down, sighs as he pulls off. Izuku’s cock is wet with spit along the whole length, and Katsuki slicks it down and up again with his hand while he breathes over the head with parted lips.
“Fuck,” Izuku groans. “Ka—Kacchan.” His neck is strained. “Take a little more… I want you to go faster now.”
Katsuki moans, moves slowly to keep up the suction. “Izuku,” he tries to murmur around his mouthful, and pulls back to swallow his spit. No—that would be a waste; he parts his lips and lets more drool spill onto the tip of Izuku’s cock instead. He rubs it down with his fist and descends again.
He approaches it sometimes like he’s going in for a kiss—kissing his fiance’s mouth. Gentle at first, head tilting like his lips and Izuku’s cock need to accept and meet each other halfway. Then sealing around the tender head so his tongue can start to ask for more. His throat hums with an unintelligible sound as he takes in more like Izuku told him, working faster and deeper with every pass. Until his eyes sting and his nose touches pubes. Izuku’s cock presses up against his soft palette, and he makes a desperate noise.
Katsuki gags, and he has to slide back for a break. No—he shouldn’t rush to deepthroat. It takes him out of the warm, hazy mindset if he rushes. And that was just a hint, a preview, all part of the build. Even when Izuku asks for more, he likes it dragged out.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says. “Kacchan.” Sometimes he can’t do a lot besides repeat it like a mantra; the most intoxicating mantra Katsuki’s ever heard. Izuku is breathing hard, thigh tense under Katsuki’s palm. His hand comes down onto Katsuki’s, covering it high up on his thigh, thumb rubbing circles into his knuckles. The pace is just shy of frantic. “Come on,” he whispers, head still tilted back, and tugs at Katsuki’s hand.
He doesn’t need to be told. Katsuki reaches up to stroke at the taut skin of Izuku’s balls. They jump under the touch, and his belly tightens with need. Featherlight, Katsuki cups his palm around them, curls his fingers, tugs them down as gently as he can.
Izuku’s breathing gets ragged. “That’s good, Kacchan,” he mutters. “Squeeze, nice and gentle.”
Katsuki does it, and Izuku’s thighs tremble. “Mm,” he hums. “Mhm. Keep going—keep sucking me. Yeah…” he breathes out shaky as he feeds his cock back into Katsuki's mouth. “Yeah, suck my cock, that’s it…”
There’s nothing stopping him now from sucking and kissing with desperate determination. He loves Izuku, loves him, needs him to understand that. Izuku has to get it. Katsuki uses his words alright, but it’s better to do this.
To adore Izuku, coax out every granule of pleasure possible from his body. Katsuki’s pride and his ego aren’t such fragile things anymore. Not since Izuku showed him how hot it was to be open with his need. The intensity of Katsuki's desire turns him on, makes a feedback loop that sweeps Katsuki up in it until their mutual obsession spirals into something heady and perfect.
If anything, Katsuki can take more pride in the fact that he’s good at this, that desperation and submission make him good at it.
“So good, ahh I just wanna—keep you here all the time,” Izuku pants. “You’d like it, right Kacchan?” Izuku’s body tenses more with every second. “Your mouth is so hot. Mm—so wet, Kacchan, s’just perfect—”
The choked noises of messy friction stain his ears pink, but he doesn’t slow or pause or hesitate. He told Izuku he would take care of him. Katsuki moans soft noises around him every time Izuku’s cock kisses his throat, hand steady at the base and the other roaming and searching.
“Kacchan, mmKacchan—”
Izuku’s thighs spread to push himself closer, tighter into the suction of a hot mouth. His words are slurring. He’s awkward with all of it sometimes. How squirmy he gets when it feels good, how his voice gets strained and he mumbles out dirty talk like he has to. Even if he’s saying shit that’s silly and overdone. It isn't overdone in his eyes.
“Mmm god, Kacchan, yeah, suck on it, m-hm—”
His voice gets a little high when he's like this, and he almost starts to hump forward with his hips before he stops. He loves to tease himself, deny himself. He likes to drag this out just as much as Katsuki does.
It’s infectious how immersed Izuku gets in the moment and the feelings. It feeds right into Katsuki’s immersion and fuck, there’s nothing he likes more than making Izuku feel this good. Servicing him, giving him this kind of attention. He’s the only one who knows how Izuku likes it, and he's the only one who can do it right, and he’s the only one Izuku wants.
Izuku’s moaning is getting him lightheaded.
“Kacchan, you love this, yeah? You love it, don't you?”
“Mm,” Katsuki hums around his cock. He pulls off, lips wet. “Yes,” he breathes, and dips back down as slow as he can make himself, to lay more open-mouthed kisses against his balls. They draw tighter to his body under the attention. “Love it. Izuku, I love it.”
Izuku’s always had this power over him, in one way or another, hasn’t he? That innate ability to throw Katsuki off balance and confront him with the reality of himself. That he wants this, that he acts like a slut for it and likes it.
Katsuki can hardly breathe. He’s so hard too, and Izuku’s getting stiffer in that way that can only mean he’s close to coming.
His head falls back, but he cranes his gaze down to look at Katsuki still. His teeth dig at his lip. “Nnhh—ahh. Yeah. Yeah, Kacchan loves to—to worship this cock, doesn’t he?”
A blush spreads hot down Katsuki's neck and chest, across his shoulders. He nods, smearing soft, messy kisses along the underside of Izuku’s shaft before he sucks him down again, straight to the back of his mouth. That’s what he loves—worshipping Izuku. His Izuku.
“Fuck, Izuku,” he mumbles. “Wanna swallow today—”
“Okay, fuck, hnn—”
Katsuki can’t not love this. It should be embarrassing—would be to any outsider—was for him before. But Izuku is so fucking into him Katsuki could cry.
He works his head faster, hollowing out his cheeks to get Izuku the suction that will take him there.
“Good boy,” Izuku says. “Good, yeah, take it… take it, just—”
Izuku pushes him down deep when he comes.
Katsuki almost chokes, his eyes stinging, throat convulsing. He stays where he’s held and watches Izuku’s face.
It’s twitchy and squinched up, open-mouthed with his eyes crinkled shut. Katsuki barely tastes his release, until Izuku’s arm relaxes and he can move. Katsuki’s throat wrings the last pulse out of Izuku as he slides back, and it coats his tongue. He swallows, two, three times, pulls off to pant for air.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says, arm flung across his face. He drags it away to look down. “Fu…Kacchan. Mm.”
“Good?” Katsuki licks his lips.
“So, so good. Amazing.”
Katsuki is still leaned forward enough to kiss the final pearl of cum from the tip of Izuku’s cock. He gives out a moan, something soft but drawn out, almost musical. So Izuku knows Katsuki loves his pleasure, the evidence of his satisfaction wrung out with his mouth and touch.
Izuku lays against the couch still breathing hard for a while. And Katsuki watches him, head resting on Izuku’s thigh, happiness twisting in his chest. Izuku reaches blindly, patting around, until he finds Katsuki’s hair. He strokes it for a while, eyes still closed.
Katsuki alternates between watching his face in total relaxation, and watching his cock start to wilt. Then Izuku drags his own head upright and opens his eyes to smile down at Katsuki.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” he says, sheepish. His face is pink.
“Welcome,” Katsuki says. He can’t be too loud now; his voice is definitely a little rough. He nuzzles Izuku’s pajama pants, bunched up at the crease of his thigh. “I like that.”
“Me too,” Izuku breathes.
“A lot.”
“Me too.”
It’s nice that he doesn’t sound guilty about it. Like he actually believes Katsuki could really just want to get him off and treat him nice just because. The way Izuku gets kinda brainless during it is a good reward.
“Do you want…?” Izuku’s eyes are tired, but watchful. “I can do you now?”
Katsuki shakes his head. He’s hard. But it’s not a pressing need like Izuku’s orgasm was. “Just wanna lay down now.”
Izuku helps him up and frowns at the way Katsuki’s knees and ankles pop. It takes a second to clean himself up and get his cock tucked away and his pants straightened out. He giggles a little sheepishly about it. Shuffles and leans back against the arm rest, groans as he hauls his legs up and stretches them out.
Then his eyes turn up to Katsuki, wide and soft, and he pats his chest.
Katsuki’s mouth twists up to keep himself from smiling.
Head on Izuku’s chest, feet tucked safely under the throw blanket, they settle together, wriggling so Katsuki’s erection isn’t getting jabbed by a hipbone. Izuku’s hand dips under Katsuki’s hoodie to trace idle shapes into his lower back, and Katsuki closes his eyes.
“Are you sure?” Izuku whispers close to his ear, hand sliding over Katsuki’s ass. He squeezes lightly.
“Mm. Later. Or tomorrow.” The pacing in Katsuki’s chest has settled down for a nap too.
“Okay.”
The TV has gone to a screensaver from inactivity, and Izuku fumbles around for the remote to finally switch it off. Then his hands return to Katsuki, fingers tracing side to side, pressing to one of the dimples on Katsuki’s lower back, then the other, then back again. “You’re so good to me.”
Katsuki's toes curl. “Course I am.” Say it a few more times.
“The best.” Izuku squeezes his waist, and Katsuki’s cock throbs against his hip. Izuku pauses. His fingers fiddle with the waistband of his sweats. “Kacchan…”
Katsuki turns his head and bites Izuku’s pec. It’s a little softer, a little lazier than the times before, but it gets his message across. “Quit trying to… out-service me,” he mutters. “We’ll trade next time.”
“I like getting you off,” Izuku stage whispers.
“You getting off gets me off.”
“Mm…”
Izuku’s a breath away from arguing, hanging on by a thread, and it’ll make Katsuki cranky if he does. He doesn’t wanna be cranky with Izuku right now. He’s too comfy for that.
“Do you want me to make a frozen pizza?” is what Izuku goes with instead. A kiss follows it, right on the corner of his jaw.
“Yeah.” Katsuki smiles into Izuku’s neck. Good. It’s a bit of a workaround for Izuku, but it’s a compromise. His stubbornness isn’t insurmountable after all. Not for Katsuki.