Chapter Text
Katsuki hasn't felt enraged confusion like this in a good long while. As his hand reaches out for Deku's throat, his leap carrying him clear across the living room, he finds that he's missed it.
Not the feeling itself, but the acting on it. His blood steams inside of him, and then they're tumbling down onto the floor together, Deku deflecting the hand that had reached to choke him. They roll into a set of shelves, which begin to wobble. For a moment Deku is distracted, whipping out a hand to steady it from toppling.
Katsuki doesn't like that. He wants Deku's full attention. He goes for the throat again, and this time he manages to grip it.
It's thick with muscle, and Katsuki's rage-sweat makes the soft skin slick. He'll have to move fast—
Deku punches him in the gut, and uses his flinch to roll them. Deku doesn't attempt to remove Katsuki’s hand from his neck, which is stupid because Katsuki could fucking explode his head off from here. Instead he pins Katsuki, setting a forearm to his throat in return and pushing.
"Get off," Katsuki wheezes. He strains under Deku, but Deku is like a slab of marble on top of him.
"Do you promise not to attack me again?" Deku asks, breathing hard.
"No."
The pushing on Katsuki's neck gets harder. He grits his teeth, trying to get a foot under him for leverage. It feels good to be fighting, but it would feel better in an open field, no holds barred; he hates everything except the pain right now. He hates that he looked when he saw something colourful under an opened envelope in the neat little box of papers Deku keeps under the sink. He hates that Deku bought weird shit of them, and now he hates that Deku wants to get rid of it.
He thrusts his hips up into Deku's ungiving hold, and Deku lets out a strangled noise of surprise. Some of the iron goes out of his grapple, and Katsuki pulls his hands back to blast an explosion against Deku's chest.
Deku jumps up and back, away from the fire. Katsuki flips into a stance. He charges forward before Deku can gather himself, crashing Deku into a wall and pinning him.
"You want to do all that stuff to me?" Katsuki rasps. "You think I'd ever let you?"
Deku blinks across at him. "It's fictional. Of course you wouldn't let me. Do you think I think—"
"Shut up! Show me who else you've got. Uravity? Shouto? Who do I share this honour with, Deku?"
Deku pushes him back.
"Tell me why," Katsuki commands. Deku has never even hinted at an interest. He… there was some weird tension, in school. Moments when Katsuki felt like he was missing some vital piece of information. A pull in his stomach, a flickering under his skin—and then graduation. Learning to be a pro hero, their whole class scattered across the country, and the times they had together slowly became shared memory.
There was never any… none of the stuff people are told to look for. There were catch-ups, and good conversations, and mutual support, but no…
Fuck. Katsuki isn't even sure what the two of them beginning to date would have looked like. They know each other too well; it's a hopeless endeavour.
He feels hopeless.
"Ask me or don't, Kacchan. Not why . Ask me if I'm into you."
"Are you into me?" Katsuki asks. His hands ache with heat.
"Yes. Now can you either decide you're fine with that or—"
Katsuki doesn't give Deku a chance to finish his sentence. He lunges, but this time not to choke or hurt. He mashes their mouths together in the worst kiss of the century. For a moment he tastes lingering sweetness from the dessert they shared at lunch as Deku gasps—and then the copper tang of blood.
Shit. Whose lip got bitten? His or Deku's? He pulls back to examine Deku's mouth, touching a finger to it, and is relieved when an absent swipe of his tongue against the inside of his mouth gives him the metal flavour again. His own lip—good. He didn't bite Deku.
Deku lets out an uneven breath. "What…?"
Katsuki can't answer that. "You want it, right?"
A long stare. Deku doesn’t smile, but after a long moment he reaches up to cup Katsuki's face, and Katsuki’s skin catches fire. Deku keeps on staring, and Katsuki clenches his fists so his hands won't tremble as Deku leans in, still watching, and kisses him.
Deku is good at kissing. He doesn't just thrust his mouth in a direction; he maneuvers them both so it's soft and hard at the same time.
It feels good. Too much for Katsuki, but good. The rush inside of him is almost painful, like a thunderstorm against his nerves.
The sweep of Deku's tongue startles him. For a moment he’s surprised, filled with liquid heat—and then he surges forward bodily, wanting to respond, but there's only a flash of contact before Deku pulls back.
"Really?" Deku asks, green eyes scanning his. Katsuki is sure he looks like an idiot, his breath going fast and his face flushed; he only remembers to close his mouth after a long moment.
"Really," Katsuki says. The word seems to be dredged up from his toes, pulled up through his whole body to scrape out of his throat.
He doesn't want to think or doubt. He just wants this, for now, whatever bullshit it brings in the future.
Deku's hands are still holding his face, the strength in them obvious even when he's not gripping hard. Katsuki isn't prepared for him to drop them and step away, but that's exactly what Deku does.
"What are you doing?" Katsuki asks. Deku ignores him; he looks around the room, pats himself down, then takes Katsuki's shoulders.
"What did you tell me when I scraped my knee at the zoo when we were eight?" Deku asks with utmost seriousness.
Katsuki wants to attack again. "How am I supposed to remember that?"
"You were trying to get me to stop crying. What would you have said?"
Katsuki isn't prepared for a pop quiz. He wants to be touching Deku again, but Deku is looking at him like this shit is important as hell.
"I don't know!" Then, an extremely vague memory surfacing: "Was it right after All Might's big Utapau Dam fight?"
Deku's eyes light up as he nods.
Katsuki sighs. "It was probably some shit about how All Might got hurt much worse and didn't cry at all. Am I right? Why the fuck does it matter?"
"Have you had any villain encounters lately? Or just weird encounters in general, that didn't seem right?"
"This encounter is getting worse and worse. What the fuck, Deku?"
"You're not under some weird quirk's influence?"
Katsuki stares.
"Kacchan," Deku says softly. "Can you answer the question, please?"
"I didn't accost you because of some fucking quirk, okay? What is it you want to hear?"
Deku shakes his head. “There’s no way you’re this timid.”
" Timid?! "
Deku doesn't explain, but his green eyes seem to strip Katsuki bare. You know what I mean , they say, and they're right. He does know. Why bury those feelings, and then leap at this random chance?
All Might chose Deku. The kind one, the one who cared the most about saving people. All Might had said both their views on hero work at age sixteen were necessary to succeed—but he'd chosen Deku.
"Everyone gets older," Katsuki hedges. "Who the fuck knows when anything changes?"
"I hope you're not changing yourself for anyone else's sake."
"I'm doing it to pass you in the rankings." After a moment, Katsuki adds: "Fucker."
“Even for rankings, you can't have changed that much. You wouldn't want something and then not try to get it. Unless this is… I don't know, a passing fancy? Thought you'd try it out? We'd better not if—"
"Shut up. You think too much. You're a fucking freak who thinks too much."
"What does that mean? That this is a one-time thing we’re not meant to think through?"
"Fuck you.” Katsuki looks away. A one-time thing? No—emphatically no. But he has no idea how to make Deku understand what this is for him. He doesn’t understand, not yet. “It means there are things I don't know how to want." Things I don't want to admit to wanting.
Deku’s face is too serious; Katsuki wants to punch it. Or to kiss it again, but his kisses are terrible.
“Why is it on me?” Katsuki asks eventually, his voice smaller than he wants it to be. “If you wanted, then—then why didn’t you...”
Deku looks away, like he’s too chickenshit to answer. The answer is clear, anyway. There’s something wrong with Katsuki that made it easier to buy weird shit than ask him on a fucking date. I know you’re weird about sex , he hears Eijirou say again.
Fuck .
“I thought you’d hate me for it,” Deku says. “Watching interviewers try to flirt with you before they learned not to was like watching… I don’t even know what it was like. Terrible. You obviously thought love and sex were disgusting.”
“Fuck you,” Katsuki repeats, without heat. Those things are disgusting. Being wanted is disgusting, and wanting is disgusting too—but if it’s Deku, it’s okay. Somehow it’s okay.
“Kiss me again,” Katsuki commands. He glares until Deku obeys. This time Deku doesn’t hold his face. Instead he sets his hands on Katsuki’s waist and pulls him in so they’re chest to chest, their similar heights no barrier—Katsuki is only a little bit taller now. Very slowly, Deku kisses him. It’s just as good as the time before, and maybe better. Katsuki can feel how Deku’s chest rises and falls too fast, his breathing uneven as he moves their mouths together. Katsuki grips the front of Deku’s shirt to keep him from pulling back, the sweet scent of his own sweat a familiar annoyance.
Deku's mouth working his open isn't disgusting. It tastes good, and it makes Katsuki feel this hunger that seems natural instead of vulgar. He never wants to stop.
They pause after a long while, foreheads pressing together as they breathe hard. “Kacchan,” Deku says. "This makes no sense."
"I explained it," Katsuki says. He can't discuss it again. He'll explode his own face off rather than jump through that series of hoops a second time. He just wants Deku to take charge and… do whatever it is that people do now. It doesn’t seem like a ridiculous expectation; Deku outranks him, and he’s presumably done these things before.
"Tell me you haven't changed enough to let me do something you don't like," Deku says.
"I like it," Katsuki says. He hates having to spell it out. "Just do it."
Deku sputters. "You're not some… some virgin sacrifice! I don't need anything from you that you don't—"
Katsuki loses patience. He grips Deku's Red Riot shirt—a little singed from earlier—and yanks it up. Up, up, up, over Deku's arms, which Deku lifts for him. Katsuki's breath leaves him in a rush at the sight of Deku's bare chest—the tracework patterns of scars over hard muscle, the pink nipples begging to be worked over. He drops the shirt in favour of putting his hands on Deku.
Deku keeps his head ducked; he seems to be muttering. He moves his hips away from Katsuki’s, trying not to face him head-on, and Katsuki grabs those hips and pushes his own into them. The reason Deku was trying to face away becomes abundantly clear.
Deku is hard. Not getting hard—he’s there, aching and ready. The change in Katsuki is instant—like fire catching. Yes . If he’d known at age thirteen that another guy’s dick hard against him would make him feel like this he’d have jumped off a bridge. If he’d known then that the guy would be Deku he’d have dragged Deku off the bridge with him.
There are no bridges today. All Katsuki wants is to keep going. Deku’s gasping breaths are fuel to the fire, and the sense of holding all the power is heady.
Katsuki doesn’t hold the power, of course. He has no fucking clue what to do, and he doesn’t want to do this with anyone else, whereas Deku—well, whatever. Deku can probably do whatever and whoever he likes, but Katsuki won’t let him.
“Stop trying to get away,” Katsuki grates out at Deku’s third attempt to get some distance between them. “I know you’re hard, fucker. Just admit it.”
“I don’t want to—” Deku gasps, splashing cold water over Katsuki’s libido for a moment—and then he continues: “I don’t want to make you… think less of me…”
“Why the fuck would I think less of you?!” Katsuki asks. His everything is hard—his dick, his nipples, his heartbeat. He licks a stripe against Deku’s chest and fumbles for Deku’s zipper, wanting to make a point. Somehow he undoes the button, the top of the zip, and sticks a hand down the front of Deku’s pants before Deku can gasp anything else ridiculous.
Katsuki’s hand slides by coarse hair, rough on his knuckles—and then his hand is wrapping around Deku’s cock, and it’s nothing like touching himself. Katsuki palms the shaft of it, knowing he’s coating it with his own scent but not caring. The dimensions are startling: thick, and heavy when Katsuki lifts it to feel along its length better. Deku lurches, head hitting Katsuki’s shoulder—and then Deku sort of arm-slaps him so his grip falters, and before Katsuki can regrip Deku is bending to lift him.
Deku carries him to the bedroom.
Katsuki doesn’t make it easy, because Deku has One for All and can carry a building one-handed; he can fucking work for it. Unsurprisingly—or unsurprisingly if Katsuki had realised years ago what he was capable of feeling—the strong thing is a turn-on. Fuck it’s a turn-on.
“Hold still,” Deku breathes, setting a knee on the bed. Katsuki grips Deku’s face and attempts to kiss like Deku kisses. It’s too open-mouthed, too much tongue, but Deku doesn’t seem to mind. The noises he makes are helpless ones of approval, not censure.
Not that Katsuki expects Deku to be a prude when he has all that ridiculous merchandise—but it’s still nice to feel him responding. To know this is a thing Deku wants from him, with him.
“I love you,” Deku says, shuffling forward on his knees. “Kacchan, I love you, I love you—”
“Shut up!” Katsuki says. His stomach twists with discomfort. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” Deku asks, laying Katsuki down with utmost care. The gentleness is intimidating for a moment—and then Deku is pulling Katsuki’s shirt off, and somehow that's reassuring.
Deku lowers his head to press a kiss to Katsuki’s bare shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me,” Deku says. His mouth moves—trails kisses down diagonally. “You don’t have to love me back.”
What the fuck does that mean? Katsuki would have a clearer head to think it over if Deku's mouth wasn't on him. A sudden sucking on Katsuki's nipple makes him gasp, arousal lancing through him like there's a line straight from his nipple to his dick. Deku takes his time evening him out before moving on; soft, wet kisses cover Katsuki's skin, and Katsuki isn't sure how a kiss to his rib can feel sweet and lingering, but Deku manages it.
“What are you talking about…” Katsuki starts to say, but the second half cuts off into a mumble as Deku descends lower, kissing Katsuki’s belly over and over. He kisses a circle around Katsuki's navel, and Katsuki thinks he might die.
Deku is a pro at this; another way he's surpassed Katsuki. Fucking hell. Katsuki will have to catch up fast, but it's hard to focus on what Deku's doing for pointers when it's all Katsuki can do to keep his hips down. He has to resist the violent urge to rock up; the last thing he wants is to crush Deku's windpipe with his hard-on.
It's a good thing Katsuki has some scrap of self-control left, because Deku lacks the least bit of self-preservation. Deku lets his body brush up against Katsuki's cock—and then, fuck, he's moving down Katsuki's body to mouth exactly where Katsuki wants it.
Exactly where it's too much to bear.
"What!" Katsuki yells. What is Deku doing? This… this…
People do this , he reminds himself. Isn't it disgusting, though? Katsuki doesn't mind jerking himself off with his hand when he needs to let off steam, but Deku's mouth is on him—through two layers of clothes, sure, but there.
"Kacchan, can I?" Deku asks. His eyes are heavy-lidded when he raises them to look at Katsuki. The way his attention falls back to Katsuki's cock straining in his pants almost immediately has Katsuki dry-mouthed and writhing. Deku is just… gazing at his stupid gross dick like it's a fucking prize, and Katsuki is going to go insane.
"Yeah," Katsuki rumbles, not trusting his voice above a low groan.
Deku gives no verbal acknowledgement before undoing Katsuki's belt and trousers. He pulls, and Katsuki is stuck between trying to help and trying to hide himself. No one's ever… he hasn't been like this in front of…
Katsuki's naked skin is on display for a hot second before Deku dives down, taking the head of Katsuki's cock into his mouth. Katsuki startles, feeling like he ought to… god, whatever. Shrink away, or something. For Deku's sake. Deku is obviously in the grip of temporary insanity, wanting Katsuki's cock in his mouth to the point of moaning around it, and they're friends now so Katsuki should—
Deku pulls off, and the sight of his mouth glistening wetly over his cock has Katsuki choking.
"You don't have to," he says quickly, strained. "You can just…"
"Want to," Deku sighs. He licks along the shaft—one side, then the other. His blissed out expression leaves no room for doubt. "I've wanted to."
Katsuki wheezes his exasperation before swallowing it, figuring Deku deserves to choke on his dick if he has this little care for himself. Deku seems intent on doing just that, more or less worshipping the fucking thing. Acting like it's delicious instead of disgusting. The sight is…
Katsuki reaches for the habitual disgust. He reaches far —and he can't find it. It's just not there; all he wants is for Deku to take him in, to choke him down. Deku obliges, moaning, and that would do it on its own—but one of Deku's hands is massaging Katsuki's glute, and the other is in Deku's own pants, and the sight of that is like kryptonite. The pressure inside Katsuki builds to a breaking point in seconds, and then he's spilling down Deku's throat without even a word of warning, making inhuman, suffering sounds he can't do shit to hold back.
Deku lurches over him. For a second Katsuki thinks his gag reflex acted up, and looks down in concern—only to see the jerking of Deku's hips into his hand. He's fucking… come, from this. From Katsuki on his tongue.
"Deku—fuck—what…" Katsuki's hips are still stuttering. He tries to push at Deku's shoulders, get him off, but Deku is marble once again. Greedy, wanting marble.
Eventually Deku draws back. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, bites his lip with some quiet brand of joy—then looks up at Katsuki like he forgot who was there. His face goes cherry-red.
"Um," he says.
"I sense you're about to say something idiotic," Katsuki says, rising up on his elbows. He can feel the warmth in his own face echoing Deku's sudden embarrassment.
"Probably," Deku says. He laughs a little, obviously nervous. "Um…"
"Spit it out."
"Was that okay?"
Okay is not the word Katsuki would use. His body still feels like something inside it is glowing, pulsing, and he's not sure what he's going to do with the rest of his life now he knows what it's like to come with Deku's mouth wrapped around him.
"Date me," he says, rather than answer that ridiculous question. "Exclusively."
"I—" Deku blinks several times, rather comically. He crawls up Katsuki's body. "Do you mean that?"
Katsuki nods jerkily. He doesn't give a shit how much of a pervert Deku is—he wants in on it. He can't be made to forget now.
Deku's smile is like a sunrise. "Yes," he says. "Of course, Kacchan."
"Don't look so smug."
"I can't help it. Are you sure you didn't mean to say 'die, peasant'? Did I mishear? Am I dreaming?"
"Yes, you're dreaming. That's why your mouth is full of my cum."
Deku chokes a laugh. "I swallowed ages ago!"
"Disgusting. Spit next time."
Deku doesn't agree to do so, but he does smile. "Not a bad dream if it was," he says.
"Hm."
The afterglow sensation pulls Katsuki into the bed. His eyelids flutter—and then he feels a hand on the side of his face, and looks up at Deku. An unwilling smile pulls at his mouth; he can't stop it.
"Hey," Deku says.
It’s hard for Katsuki’s eyes to stay open, but he tries. Deku is glowing, and that’s worth the effort. "Hey," Katsuki says.
"You meant the dating thing?"
"Mm."
"You know I have a body pillow of you and a doujinshi collection?"
"It's come up."
"And poseable figures?"
Katsuki's eyes stop falling closed. "What?! God damn it, Deku."
Deku is still smiling, but he actually looks a little worried.
"Yes. That's… fine. Or whatever." Katsuki lets his head fall back down.
A long, hazy silence, and then: "Are you falling asleep?"
The question seems to come from very far away. It's Deku asking, and it's very nice to hear Deku as he falls asleep—because yes, he is falling. "Mm," he manages.
Deku puts him under the covers. Katsuki is warm, and he's never felt this relaxed in his life. Never fucking ever.
"Don't eat the pizza," he tells Deku, or tries to—and then he's gone.
It feels amazing to be gone.
A doorbell wakes Katsuki from the sleep of a lifetime. He's mostly naked, clad in just his boxers, and his skin is deliciously bed-warm.
He opens his eyes to Deku watching him. It gives him a jolt of surprise—and then he puts a hand over Deku's face.
"Stop staring. I'll get that."
"You don't have to! I'll get it, I was just—"
"Being creepy, yeah. I saw." Katsuki pushes himself back and rolls out of bed. His body still aches faintly with pleasure. He walks up to the door display to check on the people outside.
Sparks and Pinky stand there, no camera in sight. Katsuki looks down at himself—mostly naked in Deku's entryway.
The doorbell goes again, and Katsuki wrenches the door open. The surprise will serve them right.
"Yes?" he says.
"B-Bakugou?!" Sparks yells.
"Yeah. Talk fast. Door closing in five… four… three…"
Pinky's alien eyes are sparkling. "We were just checking on Izuku! But I guess he's fine!"
"I'm fine!" Deku confirms from inside the house. Katsuki feels a shiver at the sound of his voice—how happy he sounds. Katsuki feels happy too.
"Great!" Pinky says. She grabs Sparks's arm. "We'll go then. Bye-bye!"
"We'll—?" Sparks asks as he's pulled away, but he gets no time to say more as Katsuki slams the door. “We have to know more!” he yells from outside, but his voice fades into the distance alongside the sounds of a struggle, and silence descends once again.
Katsuki steps back, rubbing at the smile he can't quite keep from his face.
That was… fun. He's not sure why. Maybe he wants to stake a claim on Deku. Actually—yeah. He wants their old classmates at least to know. And now they probably will, within minutes.
His smile turns to a grin. That's why he doesn't turn to face Deku; he doesn't want to look like a giddy child. Deku solves this problem by coming up behind Katsuki and putting his arms around him, and calloused palms roam Katsuki's chest. Katsuki allows himself to press back into the embrace.
"Shouto offered to cover my shift," Deku says into his neck. "What should I tell him?"
The breath against Katsuki's sensitive skin is making his arms break out in goosebumps. He suppresses a pleasant shiver. "I'm not your boss."
"Yeah. What should I tell him?"
Katsuki imagines a day with Deku, talking through all the weird shit they've experienced, both together and apart. He hates discussing feelings—but just now it doesn't sound so bad. He'd like to hear Deku's side of the story, at least. And he'd like… other things. Liquid heat pools in his belly.
"Tell him yes," Katsuki says. He needs to find his phone so he can enable Do Not Disturb—a Do Not Disturb that, for once, includes his precious agent.
Deku's grip tightens. He kisses along Katsuki's neck, and there's a smile in his voice when he speaks. "I'll let him know."
Katsuki grins. Not only does he get to spend the night with Deku, he also gets to inconvenience Half-and-Half. A perfect day—and then Deku speaks up.
“Would you like to see more of the collection? I can let you dress my poseable figures if you like.”
Deku is teasing—hopefully. But Katsuki elbows him in the stomach nonetheless, and laughs when Deku pretends to be injured. “I’ll kill you,” Katsuki says, untangling from Deku’s embrace. His grin probably doesn’t lend credence to his threat.
Deku’s returning smile is bright. “I look forward to seeing you try.”