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oh, the skies (tumbling from your eyes)

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Katsuki’s hearing is the first thing to come back when he wakes; a tinny ringing noise, followed by the stale silence of an enclosed space that stretches on for far too long.

He groans, just to hear something else.

“Are you all right, Kacchan?”

Katsuki feels a couple of light smacks on his cheek and grimaces, raises a hand to swat at the annoyance only to find that he can’t. He opens his eyes and adjusts to the gloom of what looks like a warehouse; more accurately, some shitty little back room, complete with patches of mildew on the drywall and cracked concrete floors. He blinks once, twice, and tries to shake the last remnants of an inexplicable and thoroughly annoying headache. His body feels heavy, his thoughts clouded, but even so he can tell that he has been restrained, and that more than anything makes him want to bash someone’s skull in.

“Don’t move too much, Kacchan. It wasn’t a strong shock, but it still knocked you out for a pretty long time. You should rest.” Strong yet gentle fingers brush through Katsuki’s hair, and that is the final straw. He uses all his strength to roll away and hits his head on the floor with a grunt for his troubles. Even without seeing them, Katsuki knows. There is only one person who uses that nickname anymore; only one person who had kept using that nickname even long after Katsuki had outgrown it, told himself he had outgrown him.

Midoriya Izuku kneels before him — clearly he’s been holding Katsuki’s head on his lap, and isn’t that a joke — all innocent eyes and messy hair and stupid freckles that make him look as just young and clueless and naive as really he is. Midoriya Izuku, who has been missing for six months without so much as a single clue as to his whereabouts. Katsuki holds back the urge to scream. The whole of U.A. is up in arms about a missing student, even if it is just one from the General Department, yet he shows up acting like nothing is wrong?

Typical Deku, thinks Katsuki. Not even being kidnapped stops him from being a fucking doormat.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Deku?” Katsuki snarls. He grits his teeth, feeling another wave of pain sweep over his temples. The other boy looks confused, and that pisses Katsuki off even more. “What does the Villain Alliance want with a nobody like you? Like you’d have anything useful for them to exploit, let alone enough for six whole months.”

Izuku’s expression twists like he’s been hurt, but something about it looks oddly muted. “That’s mean, Kacchan.”

“Shut up. Have they kept you here the whole time? ’Cause you sure don’t look like it. How come you’re free as a fucking bird and I’m all tied up?” Now that Katsuki is more aware, focused through his anger, he actually registers just why he’s been moving around like a newborn deer. His wrists are contained within thick metal cuffs, jet-black and ice-cold; similar cuffs bind his legs at the ankles and one slim band connected to a short chain encircles his neck. He tries to shuffle himself into a sitting position and curses all the while.

Izuku watches Katsuki move and says nothing for a long time. His feet are still folded underneath him and his hands are still on his lap, as if hoping Katsuki will lay his head back down. “No one’s kept me anywhere. Did you think I’d been kidnapped, Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s gaze snaps up to meet Izuku’s, who lets out a little laugh and shakes his head.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Kacchan — I left the school to come here. I’ve been working with the Villain Alliance this whole time...well, maybe not the the whole time. I had to prove myself first, which took awhile, you know? But it was very much my own choice.” He smiles again.

For the first time in his life full of carelessly offered opinions and declarations, Katsuki is speechless in the face of his surprise and he can’t even hit someone to make up for it. Surely this is some kind of trick, or a delusion brought on by his grogginess; proud as he is, Katsuki can admit that a head injury might scramble his faculties just a bit. But why would his brain waste any energy tricking him about Deku, of all people? He doesn’t care about Deku. No one does.

Everyone does, comes the needling little thought in the back of his mind, the one that usually doesn’t put in an appearance until the day is done and Katsuki can escape it by forcing himself to sleep. Everyone still does. And he says he’s been here helping the people who want them all dead.

“You’re full of shit,” Katsuki says flatly.

“I’m not.”

You’re full of shit. You spent your whole fucking life following me around, hanging onto All Might’s every word and move, never stopped bleating about being a fucking hero -- so why the fuck would you be working with the villains? You really expect me to believe that?” Katsuki’s voice rises with each word until he’s all but shouting in Izuku’s face. He feels the familiar heat within his body that signals the activation of his Quirk and flexes his fingers, readying an explosion that blow the damn cuffs right off him and make it possible to beat the crap out of Deku until he sees sense.

The explosion never comes, save for a few small pops that echo pitifully in the dim room.

Katsuki looks down at his hands in shock and Izuku lets out a slow, reverent breath.

“They work. I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure they could hold a Quirk as powerful as yours, Kacchan.” He shuffles closer and places his hands on the cuffs, caressing the sleek metal. Katsuki recoils instinctively, jerks his hands out of Izuku’s grasp and receives a look in return that can almost be called petulant.

“I didn’t want to put these on you, you know,” Izuku continues. “I love your Quirk, Kacchan. I always have. It’s one of the strongest I’ve ever seen, and I’ve gotten to see it grow -- gotten to see you grow -- over so many years. But you’re so quick to use it, and we all know that you would blast your way out of here if given the chance and I can hardly stop you by myself. So these had to go on. You understand, right?”

“What the fuck did you do to me, Deku?” Katsuki spits, and he tries not to acknowledge the slight edge of hysteria that may or may not have crept into his voice.

Izuku leans into his space again and taps the cuffs. “They’re called Quirk Limiters. A little bit of a boring name, but I’m kind of a boring person, so it fits, right? They do just what they sound like. It impedes the activation of a person’s Quirk, so long as the target is wearing them. Not so useful in a battle, but…” He trails off and shrugs, and the nonchalance makes something in Katsuki snap.

“Take them off. Fucking now.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry, Kacchan.”

“Take them off!” Katsuki screams, and he lunges for Izuku in a blind rage. Izuku grunts as the air is knocked out of him and the two struggle for control, limbs flailing and epithets — courtesy of Katsuki — being hurled into the stagnant air of the warehouse. Even bound as Katsuki is, Izuku has a hard time of getting the upper hand. Training or not, he’s still a good deal lighter than Katsuki and with none of the desperate rage to give him a boost. Finally he manages to pin the blond boy down, the both of them panting hard from the exertion. Izuku has the free end of the collar’s chain firmly wrapped around his hand and he tugs hard enough to lift Katsuki’s head off of the ground while his other hand splays out across the blond’s chest.

“You shouldn’t do that, Kacchan. You’ll hurt yourself, and I don’t want that to happen. I hate when you get hurt.” His fingers clench in the fabric of Katsuki’s tank top. “I’ve missed you so much, Kacchan. You know that, right? I hated being away from you. But I had to, so we could be together again.” His voice gets softer, higher, more imploring. “You know, right?”

Katsuki simply stares up at Izuku, angry and baffled all at once. Nothing about the situation makes sense; it’s as if someone is pretending to be Izuku, with all his rambling innocence and incessant fawning, a perfect copy...but ever so slightly off, enough to be unsettling, enough for Katsuki to know that this isn’t Izuku. Isn’t Deku, not his Deku.

“You’re not him,” he says finally. Izuku cocks his head to the side, furrows his brow in confusion as if what Katsuki’s just said isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you’re not. You can’t fool me. Deku wouldn’t be a fucking villain, especially not one that ran with these shitstains. Deku’s obsessed with Quirks and heroes and fucking All Might and you’re not him.”

Izuku stays quiet throughout Katsuki’s speech, though a slow smile creeps over his face by the end of it. He shakes his head, shoulders trembling, and Katsuki realizes that he’s laughing.

“Oh, Kacchan. I’m me. You know I’m me, deep down, if you would just let yourself see it. Loving heroes...I did once and I still do, in a way. I’m fascinated by them. I watch them all the time, taking notes, analyzing moves and strategies and Quirks. Like watching animals in a zoo.” He leans down and Katsuki is acutely aware of how close their bodies really are, how their hips align perfectly, of the firm press of Izuku’s thighs caging him in. He shifts in what he tells himself is discomfort and Izuku’s eyes follow his every movement. “I haven’t wanted to be a hero in a long time. Not since we got into U.A….no, that’s not quite right. It was before that, even. You remember, right, Kacchan? It was you who helped me to see. You and All Might. You both saved me.”

For some reason, the words give Katsuki pause. “The fuck are you talking about?”

Izuku says nothing. His fingers toy with the chain on Katsuki’s collar, and he stops meeting his eyes.

“Deku,” Katsuki tries again, “what—“

“I don’t want to talk about it, Kacchan. Please? We don’t have a lot of time. I’m not supposed to be here with you.” He shakes his head. “They’ll come looking soon, the rest of the Alliance.”

“What do you mean, not supposed to be here? What the fuck did you bring me here for?”

More silence, which Katsuki is unaccustomed to. But even when Deku talks now he acts strange, and Katsuki can’t decide what exactly is putting him in such a state of unease because for all intents and purposes, and probably to anyone else besides Katsuki, Deku remains unchanged. He’s amiable enough, still as polite and soft and gentle as ever, but there’s something unhinged in his speech and mannerisms, and it makes the hairs on Katsuki’s nape stand up. Deku’s fixation on him seems to have gotten worse, if anything, and as much as he’d like to think it, Katsuki has a feeling that his association with the Alliance has little to do with it.

He has to find out more, he thinks. He has to stall Deku at the very least, and parse out his motivations and plans at the most. The only good thing about his kidnapping — and God, Katsuki hates even thinking that there might be something good about being captured by the enemy — is that he’s the one person that Deku might open up to. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to ignore the tender manner in which Izuku holds his hands against his body.

“So you came to U.A. Just to fucking spy on us. To learn about our Quirks and the best ways to fight them.”

“Yeah. You’re so smart, Kacchan.”

It’s not fucking hard to figure out, thinks Katsuki, but for once he swallows his words and says something marginally less offensive.

“And you made these shitty Limiter things. What, are you gonna clamp them on every fucking hero in the world, one at a time? Great plan, Deku. Real winner.” Never mind that they’re actually driving Katsuki crazy; in addition to the physical restriction, the sensation of having his Quirk restrained feels like someone is squeezing his heart, tight and stifling and he thinks it feels like the slowest death. He wonders if it would feel the same for pro heroes. He wonders if the heaviness in his chest isn’t something else.

Izuku shakes his head, rising to the bait. “No. These are just a temporary measure; like having Eraserhead in some convenient little gadgets, right?” He laughs again, sweet and high and sharp like the edge of a blade, and cold enough to send a shiver down Katsuki’s spine. He bends down again, still clasping Katsuki’s hands to his chest as if he would never even think of letting go, and the way he whispers is lover-soft. “These are just a stopgap until we can reach our greater goal, much larger, much more grand. We’re not there yet, not as close as we would like to be. But can you imagine that world, Kacchan? A world with no heroes. A world with no Quirks.”

The silence that follows is worse than the sentence that precedes it.

Izuku closes his eyes as if to pray, raises Katsuki’s hands and kisses his fingertips ever so gently. “I wonder how you would live in that world, Kacchan,” he murmurs. His lips are dry, and soft, and a little chapped; his soft curls brush against Katsuki’s forehead and he can feel every word spoken against his mouth. Katsuki has to force himself to turn his head away. “Could you? Knowing that you’re just like everyone else? At the end of the day, what are you without your Quirk?”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki growls hoarsely, and Izuku chuckles.

“I would miss your Quirk, though. Maybe even more than you would. It’s so beautiful, Kacchan; some people’s Quirks don’t suit them at all but yours…” He trails off and Katsuki notices that Izuku’s eyes have taken on that feverish gleam again and his mouth is curved in a gentle smile that doesn’t match at all. Izuku brings up one hand and slowly begins to unzip the high collar of his black jumpsuit. Katsuki’s eyes follow the exposed line of skin almost down to Izuku’s navel before he realizes what’s happening and promptly flips out.

“Deku, what the fuck—“

“If I turn off the Limiters, will you be good?” blurts Izuku, and quite frankly that’s the last thing that Katsuki expects to hear. Izuku slips the top half of the jumpsuit down over his shoulders and the fabric pools, then stretches over his arms as he reaches once more for Katsuki’s wrists. “Will you try to get away? You know, I made this outfit too, just like I made the Limiters. It would protect me from your Quirk, not entirely, but it’s pretty good armor. Like this, though, you’d probably be able to beat me pretty easily. Maybe you’d even kill me if you weren’t careful.” Izuku shivers and Katsuki can feel it, the press of Izuku’s hips on his own, a current passing through the both of them; Izuku shivers, and Katsuki knows it isn’t from cold nor fear, not with the way Izuku is looking at him.

“I can switch them off. I can’t uncuff you; I know you think I’m stupid, Kacchan, but I’m not that stupid. You’ll still be restrained. But you could use your Quirk, you would be able to blast your way out of this room. You’d just have to go through me first.” Katsuki’s palms meet the smooth warmth of his bare chest and Izuku sighs, sighs as if the weight of the world is finally off of him just from that simple contact. Izuku’s heartbeat thrums through his fingertips, faster than before, and his thumb rubs gentle circles across the back of one of Katsuki’s hands. “Could you do that, Kacchan? Would you, if I let your Quirk go free?”

Katsuki‘s mouth goes dry. There’s no way for him to answer that question. There’s no room even for the rage that he’s grown so accustomed to, that comes to him so naturally. Any other villain and the choice would have been obvious, or if not obvious then at least easier. But villain or not, this is still Deku. Katsuki knows he’s made of stern stuff, knows that he’s done whatever he can to squash any sentimentality that still lingers in his heart where other people are concerned. Heroes need to be strong, he tells himself; heroes can’t afford to let something as petty as feelings get in the way of what needs to be done.

But this is Deku, and right here, right now, Katsuki doesn’t know what needs to be done. Loath as he is to admit it, he has never really known what to do about Deku, and now it’s biting him in the ass big time.

His palms begin to sweat.

Yes, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers reverentially. His grip grows tighter even as his body relaxes and he presses Katsuki’s hands tight into his chest, as if willing them to sink right through the flesh. “You could kill me right now if I turned them off, don’t you think? Just like that. It would be so easy...did you know that I’ve dreamed about it sometimes? Being killed by your Quirk. Dreaming that the last thing I see is you.” He sounds happier than he ever has, and Katsuki wants to throw up.

“I’m not— fucking hell, Deku—“ Katsuki can’t bring himself to say it. Can’t admit that he isn’t trying to use his Quirk, isn’t even trying to threaten Deku to call his bluff.

He’s sweating because he’s nervous. Because Deku is making him nervous.

He can’t say it.

“Should I do it, Kacchan? I’ll turn them off for you if you want, just tell me. I’ll do it. I promise. You know that I keep my promises to you, right, Kacchan? I always have. So even if you want to kill me it’s okay.” He reaches down to cup Katsuki’s face in his hands, warm as they’ve never been in either dreams or nightmares, and presses a gentle kiss to his mouth.

Katsuki thinks it’s the worst thing that’s happened throughout the entire fucked-up exchange, until his fingernails accidentally scrape down Izuku’s chest on reflex and Izuku fucking moans.

“More, Kacchan, please,” Izuku whimpers, and Katsuki doesn’t know what more he can possibly want or how much more he can give to the quite frankly fucked up boy on top of him without sacrificing something crucial within himself.

But he is going to be a hero, and he has to do something, good idea or not. He lets out a long, slow breath, grits his teeth, and goes out on a limb.

“Take off the fucking cuffs,” he says.

Izuku blinks. “You’ll fight me if I do. You’ll try to leave me. I can’t let that happen, Kacchan; I just told you—“

“I know what you fucking told me, Deku. My legs are still pinned and I have this stupid fucking collar on me because you guys are all fucking freaks, I don’t know, but I can’t exactly fucking run with this shit on. You wanna get blown up by my Quirk so bad? You want me to do something other than just lay here like a fucking dead fish? Then uncuff my hands.”

Silence stretches between the two boys for what seems like forever until Izuku’s quiet, unintelligible muttering breaks it. Katsuki can tell even without understanding the individual words that he is running through scenarios, parsing out his choices and their consequences, and finds himself relaxing for a fraction of a second at the familiar habit, at seeing the Deku before him overlapping perfectly with the Deku in his memories.

Then Katsuki remembers where he is and what Deku is actually muttering about, and has to force himself not to tighten his fists and smash Deku’s teeth in.

Izuku reaches over slowly and presses his thumb against the underside of Katsuki’s left cuff; he hears a few metallic clicks, and then the cuffs come apart and fall heavily on his chest. Katsuki’s arms feel curiously light without the extra weight, and he flexes his fingers experimentally to check for numbness. His gaze flickers up to meet Izuku’s, bright and green and trusting.

He lunges, but Izuku is faster.

Izuku pins Katsuki’s wrists above his head with one hand and presses his body flush against him from chest to hip while his other hand tugs sharply at the chain of the collar, but there’s no anger in the green eyes that regard him. Amusement, maybe; excitement, probably; lust, definitely. Izuku is having fun.

“I know you too well for that, Kacchan,” says Izuku with what can almost be construed as a pout. “What were you going to do? Tell me.”

“I was thinking about fucking strangling you, for a start,” spits Katsuki.

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised when Izuku’s hips stutter against his at the statement, or when the other boy bites his lip and flushes pink as if he hasn’t just been threatened with bodily harm, or even when he feels his own treacherous body warm in response to that slight bit of friction; but he shudders all the same, doesn’t want to believe and tries to block out the incredible wrongness of the situation. Needless to say, it doesn’t work, and Deku isn’t helping.

“You’re getting excited, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs against his mouth. Katsuki tells himself that he isn’t chasing the sensation, tells himself that it’s only shitty Deku jerking the collar and pulling him up.

That doesn’t work either.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki replies, and Izuku just laughs and releases his wrists. He busies his hands instead with mapping out the planes of Katsuki’s chest, defined even through the thin fabric of his tank top. Katsuki feels Izuku dip lower to nose against his neck, suppresses a shiver when Izuku drops open-mouthed kisses against his skin. There’s heat building up that has nothing to do with his Quirk and for a moment Katsuki thinks he might be dreaming. Then Izuku bites down hard with no warning and Katsuki yells in pain, reaches up to grab a fistful of dark green curls and wrench the other boy away and snarls “What the fuck are you doing?”

Izuku licks his lips, and the sight of it shouldn’t make Katsuki’s dick get even harder but here they are. “Marking you, Kacchan,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that Katsuki feels his right hand twitch with the desire to let an explosion loose right in his face. “I won’t do it again if you don’t like it, but can you let go of my hair, please? It’s hard to move like this.”

The words Like hell I will rise up in Katsuki’s throat, but Izuku slips his arms completely out of the sleeves of his jumpsuit and props himself up on his knees as best as he can to pull the fabric down over his hips, freeing his cock and exposing strong, muscled thighs, and the retort dies a weak and whimpering death on the tip of his tongue.

Against his better judgement, barely registering what exactly he’s doing, Katsuki lets go.

“Thank you, Kacchan,” murmurs Izuku. It’s a fucked up thing to be thanked for, Katsuki thinks, though not as fucked up as the fact that his childhood friend is currently stripping down to nothing, and all for his apparent benefit.

And it’s definitely not as fucked up as the fact that instead of doing something useful like maybe escaping, all he can do is stare at Izuku’s naked form straddling him and swallow down the warring sensations of longing and nausea that coil in his gut like angry snakes.

“Is this okay?” asks Izuku. His fingertips nudge their way up under Katsuki’s black tank top, warm and calloused. His skin tingles even long after those fingers move on, like light trails from the summer sparklers of childhood. Izuku’s green eyes are wide and searching, and he looks at Katsuki with such earnestness that it makes his stomach flip. “You’re so quiet, Kacchan. Is there something you want me to do? I can suck your cock, I mean, I can try, or you can just fuck me if you want. I really want to touch you though, Kacchan, can I? Please?”

This is fucked up. This is all so fucking fucked up. Katsuki’s fingers dig into Izuku’s hips so hard he can feel the shift of muscle and bone against the pads of his thumbs. Izuku moans and thrust his hips downwards to grind against Katsuki’s clothed erection and Katsuki can see the shape of Izuku’s cock clearly, the precome beading at the tip, feel the heat against him and—

“Kacchan—?”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku,” he replies in a voice so low and hoarse it barely sounds like his own. His head is swimming. “Hurry up and do what you’re gonna do before I blow your goddamn head off.”

Another shiver from Izuku, the only preamble before his hands work the waistband of Katsuki’s sweatpants down and he shimmies down enough to mouth at the dark fabric of his underwear. Katsuki groans at the feeling, and just as quickly is startled out of his lust-fueled haze when he feels his Quirk being activated against his will. He moves his hands away from Izuku just before a few small, sharp explosions spark unbidden from his palms, barely missing him, and Izuku just chuckles and presses a kiss to the hard outline of Katsuki’s dick.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. We’ve noticed that after the Limiters come off, there’s a small window where your Quirk gets a little out of control. You should be back to normal in a couple of minutes.” His mouth is back on Katsuki before he can form an answer, warm and wet and enthusiastic, and it should feel disgusting to have Deku slobbering all over him but it doesn’t, not at all, and Katsuki refuses to let himself dwell on it further. He props himself up on one elbow and struggles to keep his breathing even as Izuku’s fingers toy with his waistband. He wants to reach out, wants to grab that stupid mop of curls and grip tight enough to hurt and push him off, away, down, closer

His hand is an inch away from Izuku’s head when his palm goes off like a firecracker; Katsuki jerks away swearing and clenches his fist so hard that he’s pretty sure he’s torn bloody crescents into his palm. The only indication that Izuku realizes how close he’s come to death is a quiet moan and a strong, insistent tug that slips Katsuki’s briefs down his thighs, and then his tongue is flat against the underside of Katsuki’s cock and he’s lost. Katsuki grits his teeth so hard that it hurts and his nails scrape against the dirty concrete floor as Izuku works his cock like it’s the only thing he’s ever aspired to do; it feels too good to be true and too horrible to comprehend and all he wants is more. He watches the slow drag of Izuku’s tongue up the length, the gentle way he wraps his lips around the head and takes him in, inch by torturous inch, loud and sloppy and eager like only Midoriya Izuku can be. He wants more, and he knows that Deku will give him everything and then some.

Katsuki hates him for it.

He hates himself for the heat that pools low in his stomach and makes his fingertips tingle every time Izuku gags around his cock, hates Deku for trying to deepthroat him so stubbornly and hates him more when he finally succeeds and looks up at Katsuki with watery green eyes, full of adoration and longing and something almost manic. His hand trembles when he finally threads his fingers through those soft curls to push him even further down, to feel the way his cock fills Deku’s throat and makes his body jerk and shudder in a desperate bid for air, and hates that too.

You love this, whispers the traitor in his head that sounds exactly like himself. You love all of this.

It’s too much.

He shoves Izuku away and the room echoes with wet, shuddering coughs. Katsuki’s cock glistens with spit, stiff and hot against his stomach, and when he can finally bring himself to look at Deku again he wishes he hadn’t. What he can see of Deku’s face is blotchy and red and still dripping with tears, chin shiny with saliva even as he tries to wipe it away with trembling hands, but that’s not the worst thing. What’s worse is the white mess that’s splattered across his stomach, and with it the realization that he hadn’t been fighting for air at all; that when Katsuki had shoved him down and fucked his face it had been enough to make Deku come untouched. Katsuki wants to scream, wants to shout at Deku for being a fucking freak for getting off like that, but for some reason the words never leave his lips and Izuku finally catches his breath, looks Katsuki full in the face and smiles, and Katsuki fights the urge to shove Izuku right back on his dick and fuck his throat until he passes out. The thought is tempered only by an equally strong urge to bite through his own tongue and end himself for considering it.

“Want you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, in a voice so raspy that it almost inspires guilt. “Always wanted you.” He maneuvers himself back up Katsuki’s body and kisses him hungrily, all teeth and tongue and furious desire, and grinds against Katsuki’s dick. He moans when he feels Katsuki kiss him back, hard and forceful as the hands that move to press finger-shaped bruises into the meat of his thighs. Izuku reaches back to give Katsuki’s dick one, two languid strokes, still slick with spit and precome. The entire time, his eyes never leave Katsuki’s, even when he dips down to whisper against his mouth, “Always wanted this.”

The slow press of his cock inside Izuku feels like it will never end, and Katsuki almost wishes it wouldn’t. Izuku trembles and sighs every time he sinks down and takes Katsuki deeper and his fingers dig into Katsuki’s tank top hard enough to practically tear the fabric. If it’s hurting him, Katsuki can’t tell; Izuku’s face has an expression of utter bliss upon it, and on each downward thrust he looks at Katsuki like he’s hung the moon. Katsuki has long since lost track of how many times Izuku has looked at him like that, how many times he’s ignored it only to see it on the backs of his eyelids when the night ends and the dreams begin, the thrill it gives him each time.

He’d give anything not to see that expression now.

“I’m so happy, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, voice still hoarse and broken and made huskier every time he bounces on Katsuki’s dick. “I never thought this could happen...never thought I could have this, have you...God…” A breathy laugh escapes from his lips. “It’s all thanks to you, you know, Kacchan? I told you before, I told you. You saved me.”

They are innocuous words, ones that Izuku had said not long ago, but hearing them again makes Katsuki’s stomach drop.

“Tell me, Deku,” he says, snapping his hips up and making Izuku gasp. “Tell me how I saved you.” Izuku looks reluctant and Katsuki growls with impatience, grabs him by the hair and yanks him down to force Izuku to look him in the eye. “Fucking now, Deku.”

You told me, Kacchan. You told me that I could never be a hero, that I should jump off the roof and wish to be born with a Quirk in my next life,” says Izuku all at once, still breathless as he fucks himself back onto Katsuki’s dick, and Katsuki is getting real fucking sick of the feeling of the world falling out from underneath him because of the things that Deku’s said, but this is the worst by far.

Because Katsuki remembers the words with perfect, icy clarity, recalls his classmates telling him he’d gone too far and the dreams he’s tried to suppress all memory of, where Deku smiles up at him with a split, bloody skull and cups his face with cold hands and forgives him, because that’s what Deku does, and those dreams are worse than the ones where he doesn’t. Izuku has the same smile on his face now, soft and affectionate, somehow more disturbing, and Katsuki doesn’t know why until he realizes that the real life Deku doesn’t even think that there’s anything to forgive him for.

Izuku continues to speak, either unaware or uncaring of the war that Katsuki is waging within himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, Kacchan. Not about jumping, because then I couldn’t see you anymore if I died. But about not being a hero. I should have listened to you from the start, since you’re always right. But then I met All Might, and he agreed with you. That I could never be a hero, that Quirkless Deku could never be a hero. Who can argue with the Symbol of Peace, right?” Izuku laughs and bites his lip almost shyly. He rolls his hips and Katsuki hisses; his hand slips out of Izuku’s hair to grab his waist instead and leave angry red nail marks in the pale skin, which Izuku seems to have no problem with if the way his breath stutters and makes his next sentence harder to hear is any indication.

“So I had to decide...I wanted to stay with you, but I couldn’t remain on the same path that I’d intended. So I entered the General Department instead of Heroics and thought, at least we’re in the same school. I could still observe the teachers, the students, make a note of all of their Quirks. You outshone them all, Kacchan. Everyone else looked so pathetic next to you.” Izuku’s voice pitches higher on his last word and he throws his head back as Katsuki hits just the right angle inside him; he rides Katsuki faster, desperate for more, and the next words out of his mouth make Katsuki’s blood run cold. “No one wanted to be a hero before Quirks started to appear in the world. But there have always been villains for as long as there have been people. I was too blind before, but after all that I could finally see the path I should take. I realized that I would never be able to stand by your side when you became the number one hero, Kacchan. But if I could be the number one villain...then it’d be perfect. I could be proud to be on the same stage as you.” His breathing is more ragged now, almost perfectly in sync with Katsuki’s even as their thoughts run forever parallel, and the look he gives Katsuki is the kind reserved for gods and idols. “Everything I’ve done has been for you, Kacchan.”

Everything I’ve done has been for you. The words echo in the haze that has become Katsuki’s brain, and he can’t tell if they make it more difficult to concentrate or if they are simply the only thing he can actually concentrate on.

Izuku takes one of Katsuki’s hands in his own and presses the blond’s palm against his chest again, right over his heart. Katsuki can feel it pounding, louder and stronger than before and slightly erratic, quick as a cat, and he feels it so acutely that the rhythm of his own heart is lost in Izuku’s. Everything is a whirl of sensation and conflicting emotions and words that make both no sense and too much all at once, but despite the overload there is one undeniable truth that sticks, that tastes like bile in the back of his throat and fills his lungs like water until he thinks he’ll never again know what it is to breathe, and it is this: Midoriya Izuku loves him, and this is the result.

Sweat slides down his temples, ticklish and cool, so different from the sweat all but oozing from his palm to smear shiny over Deku’s chest, a promise he can’t keep and a possibility he can’t face. Katsuki’s fingers tingle with heat and he fucks Izuku faster, scraping angry red lines into his chest as Izuku braces himself against Katsuki’s thighs to meet every thrust.

I could kill him now, thinks Katsuki, and he knows that Izuku is thinking the same.

“Do it, Kacchan,” says Izuku, accompanied by a roll of his hips that makes stars dance dangerously at the corners of Katsuki’s vision.

“You’re sick,” says Katsuki, and he hates how fucking wrecked he sounds, how his fingers tighten on Izuku’s hip, how he doesn’t know who exactly he’s talking to or even exactly who he is anymore.

Izuku’s eyes sparkle like they do every time he watches a hero in action; Katsuki has seen the expression enough times in his life that he’d never be able to forget it, but never has it seemed so beautiful and so foreboding all at once. He leans down to whisper in Katsuki’s ear, and his voice is sweetness and poison. “Maybe so. But’s fine even if that’s true, you know? Because it means I can stay with you, so in the end it really was all for the best, right?” Izuku smiles, cradles Katsuki’s face in one hand and kisses his sweat-slick forehead one more time. “I love you so much, Kacchan. I love you. Come for me, please. Please.”

For once, he listens to Deku.

And it feels like he’s lost everything.