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Whatever Katsuki expects to walk in on when he tries to take a break from all the noise and the idiots trying to get him to take an extra shot, it’s not—
It’s definitely not Todoroki Shouto getting fingered loose and sloppy in Mina’s guest bedroom. In the brief interval of deliriousness it takes Katsuki to confirm that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, he wonders if this counts as being thoughtful, in Todoroki’s candy cane head. Using the spare bedroom. Not fucking someone on the bed where Mina sleeps.
And then—
And then Todoroki moans, sounds so wrecked from just a couple of fingers teasing at his slick rim, his face tucked into Shinsou’s neck.
Katsuki doesn’t know why he’s still here. What he’s doing or why he’s doing it or if it counts as masochism. All he knows is that when Shinsou meets his eyes above Todoroki’s shoulder, his whole body goes rigid, and what feels like an anvil-sized weight plummets abruptly when he smiles, when he nips at Todoroki’s ear, and whispers, “We have company, baby.”
Baby. So they’re not just fucking around. God, that’s—
Katsuki’s face feels unjustifiably warm. He kind of wants to flee. (He kind of wants to stay and watch and maybe have a turn, see what Todoroki feels like inside when he’s already been worked open, dripping with another man’s come.)
Todoroki turns, arms still wrapped around Shinsou’s neck. “Oh,” he says, very softly, tapering into a moan when Shinsou works his fingers a little deeper, presses a little harder. “Ba—ah, Bakugou.”
It’s the kind of thing Katsuki used to picture hearing when he was sixteen with a hand wrapped around himself. Todoroki overwhelmed and needy and saying his name. Like he belonged to Katsuki. Obviously, barring a few quick pecks under the mistletoe and the fact that Todoroki is like a giant fucking cat when he gets drunk and will make it his life’s mission to crawl into your lap, that hasn’t happened.
Obviously, Katsuki is pathetic enough to stand frozen still, and dig his teeth into his lower lip so he doesn’t embarrass himself. Obviously, he’s a fucking idiot.
“You’re so good,” Shinsou says. “So good for me, baby. So tight and warm. Can’t wait to fuck you.”
Katsuki’s traitorous cock twitches. He can picture it. Has a fucking front-row view. Todoroki, slick and open and begging for it with tears in his eyes, insisting he’s not full enough with that pout on his face, the one Katsuki has never been as immune to as he would like to think, the one that had him making cold soba for Todoroki’s skinny ass at three in the morning while he was on leave because he’d gone and broken his fucking arm.
“Love you,” he says now, like a secret he means to tuck into Shinsou’s skin, and it fucking stings. Like ethanol over dirty cuts. A sharp, bitter reminder that there’s no real space for Katsuki here. In Todoroki’s life or in his bed.
Shinsou laughs. “Don’t be mean,” he says. Then, because nothing in Katsuki’s life is ever just simple, “Are you just going to watch, or do you want to help?”
Help. Help like this is—
Like it’s normal. Like he’s used to passing Todoroki around like a pretty, sweet, obedient little toy. Or maybe like he wouldn’t mind doing it with Katsuki. Katsuki’s not sure which one is worse.
And then Todoroki gets off Shinsou’s lap, with no warning or preamble or, like, even the fucking decency to hastily tug his pants back on, and steps closer to Katsuki, tilts his head the slightest bit to the side, says, “Stay.”
Not even a question. Not even the pretense of giving Katsuki a choice. Of pretending he doesn’t know what he does to him. Of pretending he wouldn’t dip his tongue directly into a fresh cut, keep it there until Katsuki squirms. And God—
Katsuki wants it the other way around, if he’s being honest. Wants to keep Todoroki’s wrists pinned to the bed, feel him squirm, make him beg, keep going after he’s made him come once, fuck him until he’s crying, nails digging into Katsuki’s back, sharp teeth biting down just for a way to stay grounded, whole. Wants, maybe, if it were all about fulfilling his dirtiest fantasies without even stopping to ask if Todoroki would mind, if he would care or if he would just fall to his knees for Katsuki like a good little boy, to come all over his pretty face, make him lick his fingers clean.
“Why should I?” Katsuki asks. “You plan to make it worth my while, princess?”
Todoroki is barely a breath away. “I could,” he says, and then he’s kissing Katsuki all fucking shy with his mouth closed like his dick isn’t out and hard and wet with precome. “Could do anything you want, Bakugou. If you ask nicely.”
“Nicely, huh?” Katsuki asks, getting a hand on the back of Todoroki’s head and pulling him in, keeping him still. He brushes a thumb over Todoroki’s bottom lip, lets it rest at the edge of his mouth. “I’ve never been that nice. You know that.”
Todoroki shakes his head. Then he dares to laugh, the shameless bastard. “You’re always nice to me,” he says, and it kind of feels like a knife to the chest. “How about I repay the favor?”
Shinsou is looking at them, leaning back on his elbows on the bed like he’s just waiting for Todoroki to crawl back where he belongs. On top of him, in his lap, until he’s loose enough to get fucked.
“It’s not a fuckin’ favor,” Katsuki hisses. The anger swells, surges, stings. “It’s—it’s just—,”
Shinsou coos. “Aww,” he says. “I think he likes you, Shou.”
Todoroki blinks like he hadn’t realized, like it surprises him to hear it. “Do you?” he asks, and there’s that shyness again, that strange hopefulness in his voice, like he wants half as badly as Katsuki does. Like there’s the slightest possibility of him wanting Katsuki back. Like Katsuki didn’t walk in on him getting fingered in a home that’s not even his own by sheer coincidence. Like they could ever be anything more than a bunch of missed opportunities, of stale longing, bitter still.
“You think you’re real cute, don’t you?” Katsuki asks. Avoids, avoids, avoids. Swipes under the rug along with years of wanting and not doing anything about it. He’s always been a coward without a handful of civilian lives in danger, always been bad at saving himself.
“I want to know what you think,” Todoroki insists, taking hold of Katsuki’s palm still on his cheek, and closing his mouth around his index and middle fingers, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks, takes them in all the way. A mimicry of sucking cock. God, Katsuki wants to fuck him. Isn’t strong enough to walk away from the offer, the fucking gift, already prepped for him.
“I think you should get on your knees, sweetheart,” Katsuki says.
The barest hint of disappointment flashes across Todoroki’s face before he smiles like this is just another step in his meticulously planned evening, says, “Whatever you want, Bakugou,” and does just that.
And holy fucking shit—
Whoever taught Todoroki to suck cock deserves a goddamn medal. He’s actually—kind of sweet about it. Doesn’t take Katsuki all the way at once, takes his time like he’s enjoying it too, wraps his hand around what he can’t manage to fit in his mouth.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind watching you suck cock, princess?”
Todoroki, obviously, can’t answer, mouth stuffed full.
Shinsou shrugs. “Why would I when he looks so pretty doing it?” he asks, a hand stroking his cock lazily. Like he’s in no real rush to do anything, let alone come. Like he’s content to just—sit back and enjoy the show. “Just look at him.”
Katsuki does, gives in to the urge to spend every second of this with his eyes trained on Todoroki’s flushed face, on the way Katsuki’s cock stretches his mouth, pokes against Todoroki’s cheek. He presses against the bulge, and Todoroki moans around him. He tugs on Todoroki’s hair, and watches as the hand stroking his cock comes away so Todoroki can prod at his own stretched hole. Like he can’t wait to be full. Maybe it’s for Shinsou’s benefit too. Gives him a nice little view. Todoroki trying uselessly to fuck himself while he sucks cock.
Fuck. Katsuki tugs on Todoroki’s ridiculous candy cane hair, and Todoroki gets sloppier, no longer so much sucking his cock as he is just holding it in his mouth, like he appreciates the solid weight of it. And then he does something with his tongue that has Katsuki tugging him off like a desperate fifteen-year-old.
Todoroki’s mouth is so red. Katsuki cups his chin, tries for gentle even if he’s not particularly skilled at it, asks, “Are you going to cry if you don’t get fucked, sweetheart?”
To his surprise, Todoroki nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’ll cry. Need you so bad, Bakugou.” He takes Katsuki’s hand, readjusts to make it a little easier to reach, and brings it to his slick hole, says, “Want you here. You’re big. Bet it’s going to hurt. Bet it’s going to feel good.”
Katsuki throws a helpless, incredulous glance at Shinsou, who only shrugs. “He gets like that.”
Like that. Right. Supremely helpful. Katsuki doesn’t even do this. Doesn’t go around fucking his dumb friends just because. He gave Ei a blowjob once, because he’s just kind of like that, where the line between friend behavior and more doesn’t really count, doesn’t really matter, and they were both pent-up as hell, but—
He doesn’t do this. Can’t fuck Todoroki and walk away from it like it’s just any other day. Can’t keep himself from wanting more. Wanting to wake him up with dumb shit like flowers and breakfast in bed because god knows the idiot doesn’t know how to keep himself alive, wanting to kiss him slowly, like he means it, like they both mean it, like—
Like it’s real. Real, and not just—this.
“Should have done this sooner,” Todoroki says. “Should’ve fucked me in the dorms with a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. Should have pressed me against the wall in the showers and taken what you wanted. Should have marked me from the inside out. Should have—,”
“Oh my fucking god,” Katsuki hisses. “Shut up.”
Shinsou laughs. “Shou,” he says, “baby. Come here.”
And Todoroki does. Like it’s that easy. Tugs at Katsuki’s sleeve to pull him along without even saying anything, and Katsuki follows like an absolute moron.
“You want him first?” Shinsou asks, nodding in Katsuki’s direction.
Todoroki glances at the floor, before looking back up, and saying, like he’s embarrassed, like he’s still got some leftover shame tucked away somewhere, “Want you both.”
Both. God. Shinsou doesn’t look particularly small either. How is that ever going to fit?
“You sure you can take it?” Katsuki asks. Doesn’t mean for it to come out like a challenge, like he’s asking Todoroki if his tight little hole can fit it, can take two cocks at once, but it comes out a little bit like that anyway.
Todoroki’s mouth purses, jaw set in determination. “I’ve done it before,” he says, like he doesn’t particularly appreciate being questioned.
“Fuck,” Katsuki says, running a hand through his hair. He’s going to hate himself for this, he knows. He asks anyway. “With who?”
“Izuku and Denki,” Todoroki says, like it’s obvious. “How do you think they got together?”
Katsuki laughs despite himself. “By putting their dicks inside you?”
“It was actually kind of intense,” Todoroki says contemplatively. “Not the whole having two dicks inside you thing, but—well, that too, I guess—but mostly just, like, Izuku started crying. Kept saying I love you.”
Goddamnit. Katsuki is getting too old to sulk at fuckin’ Deku for playing with his toys.
“You both are a little bigger, though,” he adds, then shrugs. “I guess we’ll need more lube.”
Katsuki has never been so mad about being turned on in his life. Not since he was a stupid kid forced to share space with Todoroki, always catching glimpses of bare skin and sleep-soft eyes.
“Fucking hell, halfie,” he says, and then he’s grabbing Todoroki by the hips and making him bend over, dipping a few fingers in to test if he can take it, and pushing in.
Todoroki tenses up before going lax and grabbing at the sheets for something to hold onto. Katsuki starts slowly to get him used to it. “This what does it for you, princess? Getting fucked while someone watches? Taking cock until you’re loose and there’s come dripping down your thighs? This what you want?”
“Oh,” Todoroki says, and the desperation curled around a single syllable makes a molten kind of heat bloom and spread inside Katsuki. “Oh, please.”
“Please what?”
“Fill me up. Not full enough.”
“Nothing’s ever enough for you, is it, baby?” Katsuki asks, nails digging into Todoroki’s waist. God, he wants to mark him up. Leave him sore come morning. Make sure he remembers it, even if it’s just for an extra couple of days.
And then—
And then.
Shinsou crawls up the bed, takes Todoroki’s face in his palms, kisses him slowly. Like he’s in no rush. Like he knows he gets to keep him after this.
Katsuki thrusts harder, feels Todoroki clench, hears him whine.
“Come inside,” he says.
“Thought you wanted to take us both? Thought you said you could do it, sweetheart?”
Todoroki stutters through a, “Next time, ah—we can—we can try it next time, just, ah, please,” Katsuki’s pace never slowing down.
“Next time?” Katsuki teases. “Once isn’t enough for you?”
“I want—,” Shouto says, stumbles through it. “Want you. Want you, please. Want you so much.”
“He begged,” Shinsou says. “Begged me so he could have this. Wanted your cock inside him so badly he could hardly speak. Had to fuck him before we got here just to get him to loosen up a little.”
It shouldn’t be that, of all things, that makes Katsuki come. It is, though. It is, and then Todoroki is sobbing, face pressed into his forearm, and then Shinsou is kissing him again, a little meaner, saying, “Don’t be selfish, baby, make me feel good too,” and—
The sight of Todoroki’s dainty hand wrapped around Shinsou’s flushed cock as he jerks him off with his mouth open, waiting, might actually be the hottest thing Katsuki has ever seen. He settles, doesn’t pull out, keeps Todoroki plugged up and filled with come until Shinsou is coming too, spilling white all over his criminally pretty mouth, and then Todoroki whines, and Katsuki decides he gets to have precisely what he wants too, holds Todoroki open, watches his come leak out of him, drip down the backs of his thighs, leans in and licks it up, says, “So dirty, sweetheart, aren’t you ashamed? Gonna have to clean you up.”
Todoroki shudders.
“Be nice,” Shinsou says, and something about his tone of voice makes Katsuki want to do as told. “Shouto likes cuddling, after.”
It feels a little ridiculous. It feels a little ridiculous that no one else has bothered to waltz in like Katsuki did, even, and now they’re supposed to—what, squeeze into Mina’s spare bed dirty and sweat-soaked and fucking—fucking kiss and hold hands, or some shit?
“Bakugou,” Shouto says. “Come up here and kiss me. Wanna taste.”
Fucking hell. Katsuki might actually be about to die.
Shinsou smiles knowingly. “He’s a real brat,” he says, and it sounds like it means something else entirely. So intimate it makes Katsuki feel kind of guilty to hear. But maybe—maybe it could be okay. Right? No one is telling him to leave. They’re asking him to stay. Half and half wants a taste. Wants Katsuki in bed with him.
“Fuck it,” Katsuki says, “move over, dumbasses.”
It feels a little bit like a beginning. Or something like that.