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these things you tell me

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Katsuki knows how he managed to get himself into this predicament—he knows perfectly, vividly, precisely well. See, Izuku – the stupid (adorable, impossibly sexy) fucking little shit – knows exactly how to get what he wants, especially if what he wants is something from Katsuki. Both of them (unfortunately) know that all he really has to do is lean in close, bat his lashes, drop his voice an octave and say please, and it’s all over. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

This particular instance, of course, has been no exception. Admittedly, Katsuki had outwardly seemed completely unaffected by Izuku’s proposal (or he had tried to, at any rate—something had probably given him away, though, because Izuku knows him far too well, by this point), while he’d felt the stirrings of excitement low in his belly, lighting his nerve endings on fire. A fire that’s only being stoked now, as Izuku slowly trails an index finger from his chin to his sternum and rests it there, tapping lightly.

“You look really good like this,” Izuku murmurs, and the compliment makes him feel hot all over. “I should have convinced you to let me do this sooner, Kacchan.”

He thinks he may be blushing and he hates himself for it. It isn’t like they haven’t been naked together; it isn’t like they haven’t had sex numerous times already, in countless positions. It isn’t like stupid fucking Deku hasn’t admired him when they have sex, either.

It’s only different this time because Katsuki’s arms are stretched above his head and his wrists are bound; he’s already tested his restraints and discovered that Izuku had done well, both in his choice of material and in his choice of knot. Katsuki is unable to free himself, but he doesn’t have to worry about chafing or lack of circulation.

(Izuku is always, always so ridiculously considerate in that way that should perhaps be vomit-inducing but it actually only serves to make Katsuki’s heart swell and his stomach flip-flop. He kind of wants to ruffle the green mess atop Izuku’s head, but Izuku has ensured that he can’t, and damn if that isn’t even more of a turn-on than Katsuki had anticipated it being.)

“Stop fucking talking and get on with it,” Katsuki growls. “You wanted me like this. Now what are you going to do about it?”

“Whatever I want,” Izuku answers after a moment, that same, lone finger sliding back up, teasingly circling one nipple and then the other—enough to tease, enough to be cruel. Katsuki wonders who taught him these dirty little tricks, swears internally when he comes to the conclusion that it was most definitely Katsuki, himself.

(He nearly curses aloud when he decides that the student has probably surpassed the teacher, at this point.)

Izuku leans down to kiss him, and it’s slow and sweet, languid even when Izuku deepens it, his tongue swiping at the seam of his lips and Katsuki opens for him embarrassingly quickly. He’s hungry, already (always) for this man above him, for what he knows that only this man can give him. He is weak for Izuku in ways that he never would have accepted, years ago. Bound to him in ways that have nothing to do with rope or chains.

Izuku, frustratingly and delightfully, does not allow Katsuki to control the kiss. He doesn’t allow Katsuki to morph it into something impatient and demanding. Izuku keeps it unhurried and thorough, his tongue fully exploring, tasting, teasing. It makes Katsuki feel like liquid fire, and he’s dizzy by the time Izuku pulls back.

“Whatever I want,” Izuku repeats, voice husky and godfuckingdammmit, it makes Katsuki’s body react. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it, Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s fingers twitch, itching to touch, to grab, to tangle in Izuku’s hair and yank him back down so that he can kiss him again, hot and filthy; if he could do that, he could possibly take the control, make it his.

However, Izuku has made it quite clear that that isn’t how it’s going to go, not now. From the moment he’d restrained Katsuki, he’d made promises with his eyes and with the deft movements of his fingers.

This is going to go exactly how Deku wants it to go.

Katsuki’s biceps flex, wrists twisting minutely, testing. Izuku has him, helpless.

(And fuck, it’s hot.)

“You don’t like not being able to touch me.” It isn’t a question. It doesn’t have to be.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Katsuki bites back, even though it isn’t necessary.

The reply seems to please Izuku. He smiles, all self-satisfied and it’s annoying and sexy as hell. The smile alone makes Katsuki’s eyes narrow and his cock twitch in one go. “But I like being able to touch you, without you interfering.” Both hands are on Katsuki now, fingers skating along his biceps before curling lightly around his forearms, and that sparks a memory:

Izuku above him, much like he is now, smiling almost shyly, hands pinning him down, a mockery of restraint.

Katsuki had felt a thrill then. He feels it now, too. Stronger.

“You’re so strong, Kacchan.” Izuku’s grip tightens just slightly. “I love watching you when you work out. And when you fight. And when we fuck.” Izuku says the word fuck so casually now, not like he used to, way back when. The quiet confidence that he possesses when they’re together like this is truly something to behold.

“Too much talking, too little action.” Katsuki shifts his hips restlessly, and Izuku smirks, rocking his own hips downward to meet the motion. Katsuki’s erection drags against the material of Izuku’s boxer-briefs and why the fuck is Izuku still wearing those damn things, anyway?!

“You like to hear me talk sometimes,” Izuku argues, and Katsuki hates it, hates that he’s right, hates that he’s vulnerable, hates this growing, growling anticipation, hates that Izuku knows how to get his way, hates that this is turning him on so fucking much.

(Mostly, Katsuki just hates how he doesn’t really hate any of this at all.

Except the whole not being able to touch Deku. He kinda does hate that part.)

“Sometimes,” he begrudgingly agrees. “But you could be doing much nicer things with that mouth.”

“But what’s nicer than telling you the truth?” One of his hands moves back to the center of Katsuki’s chest, fingers splayed. Here, those fingers flutter before drifting down, down, over his abs, making him shiver. “You react so amazingly to my touch. I’ve always loved that, you know.”

“You don’t say.” To Katsuki’s credit, he tries to pull off a flat, dismissive tone. To his discredit, he fails. Miserably. The words come out all breathy and not at all as was intended, and it pisses him off but it’s only further testament to just how much Izuku is able to affect him, oftentimes effortlessly, whether through actions or through words.

(That pisses him off too, but it’s worth it.

Probably.)

Izuku touches his cheek lightly, holding his gaze as his other hand works its way steadily downward, pausing once he reaches Katsuki’s erection. His fingers curl around him and he gives one slow, firm stroke.

Katsuki’s mouth falls open and his hips jerk.

(That probably becomes a definitely.)

Izuku glances down between their bodies. “You’re so turned on,” he says, twisting his wrist, and pre-cum dribbles down onto Katsuki’s abdomen. “Kacchan, you’re already dripping for me.”

“Why do you have to point out the obvious, fuckin’ nerd?!” What was meant to be a snarl comes out as more of an petulant little whine and Katsuki’s hips move of their own accord, seeking more friction, needing Izuku’s hand to move faster.

It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. Izuku strokes him like he’d kissed him earlier, all lackadaisical and without any real rhythm, like he has all the time in the world. “Because it’s true. And because I love it.” The index and middle fingers of his left hand rest against Katsuki’s lips, just barely pressing. Katsuki briefly entertains the idea of biting them but decides against it, instead simply opening to the intrusion, parting lips and then teeth, tongue coming forward to lick the pads of those fingers.

Izuku makes a sound low in his throat, the thumb of his right hand pressing firmly against the underside of Katsuki’s cock. He dips down for another kiss, tongue replacing his fingers, and it feels like Katsuki is gonna fucking lose it, just like this, too quick and too messy, with Izuku’s tongue in his mouth and his hand on his dick.

Izuku pulls back from the kiss, breathless, and he pushes his hips down. The way he’s angled now, he’s pressed against Katsuki’s thigh, and Katsuki can feel how affected he is, can feel him hard and throbbing, and even though he should maybe feel a little victorious about it, all he really feels is perfectly undone, somehow unraveled and wound tight simultaneously.

“You feel what you do to me, right?” Izuku asks, stroking Katsuki faster while he rocks against him. “You make me feel good, so good.”

How Katsuki wishes he could reach down, grab Izuku’s hips, and make him really move.

He can’t, though, so he settles for digging his heels into the bed and rocking up into Izuku’s hips, and it’s achingly good, until Izuku just up and fucking stops.

The sudden, utter lack of movement makes Katsuki emit a sound that is somewhere between a whine and a snarl. Izuku has the gall to chuckle at the noise and Katsuki would throttle him right now if he could. Luckily for Izuku, he can’t. Cos he’d fucking agreed to letting Izuku tie him up.

“What the fuck?” Katsuki all but screeches as Izuku slides off of him and then off the bed altogether. Katsuki is good and ready to let some other expletives and also some colorful insults fly and he’s in the process of opening his mouth to allow all those words to spill out when Izuku shimmies out of his boxer-briefs and opens the top drawer of their nightstand, rummaging around for a second before returning back to bed with their well-used bottle of lubricant.

Katsuki’s mouth snaps shut and he stares, trying not to look over-eager and probably failing. He doesn’t give a shit. He is beyond ready.

“Have a little faith in me,” Izuku scolds, his tone somewhere between amused and admonishing. “I wanted to do this. Not like I was going to leave you hanging.”

“Mmhmm.” Katsuki doesn’t sound nearly as convinced as his twitching, throbbing cock would no doubt lead Izuku to believe (nailed it). Unluckily for him, though, Izuku slots his upper body between his thighs, and this gives him a rather good view of that traitorous piece of flesh that isn’t on board with his snide remarks.

Fingertips trace along the underside of his erection, moving lower to brush against the skin of his sac, and lower still. They tickle his perineum, and he gasps a little when he feels one finger press against his hole, dry. Katsuki can feel the intent behind the motion, and it makes him hiss and press into it. It isn’t funny at all, how Izuku can make him feel like some wanton whore, but honestly, Katsuki’s too far gone to care.

“You’re gonna let me fuck this pretty little hole of yours, aren’t you, Kacchan?” Izuku’s rubbing but not pushing in—he’s waiting for an answer.

Such filthy words coming from such a seemingly-innocent face would almost be surreal, if Katsuki weren’t so familiar with bedroom-Izuku at this point. It isn’t like a separate personality, by any means, but rather, merely a side of Izuku that only Katsuki has the privilege of seeing (and yeah, Katsuki fucking loves it).

Nevertheless, the words do catch him off guard, a little. He can’t bite back his answering moan any more than he can keep his wrists from testing his bonds (uselessly, again).

Izuku just keeps rubbing at him, teasing mercilessly, and fuck, this is something Katsuki would do.

“Do it,” he hisses. It’s more demanding than encouraging. Not good enough. No dice.

“Close. Try again.” Press. Press. Circle. Press. It’s enough to make a sane person topple right off the brink and into insanity. “And make more noises for me. I love hearing you.” Izuku peppers his thighs with loving kisses while he waits for a proper answer.

“Deku.” It’s more than a little annoying, the fact that his voice is trembling.

“Hm?” There are teeth, now. Teeth sinking sharp and hot into his inner thigh. Pleasure and pain mingle until Katsuki can’t tell one from the other, can’t be bothered to care.

Katsuki gasps and he shakes and he says Izuku’s name, but his voice cracks on the third syllable and he can’t even be pissed at himself because holy fucking shit.

He manages a “yes”, after a moment, still shuddering as Izuku’s tongue laves at the bite (that’s gonna fucking bruise, and yeah, Katsuki’s gonna love that too). Izuku’s finger keeps swiping at his entrance, over and over, and Katsuki’s voice is anything but steady when he says, “I’m gonna let you. Listen to me, Deku. I am letting you, okay?”

“Good.” The word is all but a purr, and then there’s the muted sound of the lube being opened and Katsuki almost sighs in relief.

Two fingers press into him immediately, without further preamble, and Katsuki absolutely does not make this ridiculous, desperate, keening moan (except only he totally, completely does). It’s almost too much, too fast. It’s almost painful, but it’s so fucking good, too fucking good, and there’s no way this can be real, no way this should be legal; it’s not fucking fair, how Izuku can do this to him, make him feel like this, make him want more even as Izuku is giving him more.

“You sound so good,” Izuku coos, scissoring his fingers before pushing them in deeper, hooking them, too-fucking-easily finding that spot that makes Katsuki see white behind the darkness of his closed eyelids. “And you feel so good, and it’s so hot to feel you open up for my fingers like this. Is it like this for you, too, when you’re getting me ready?”

Leave it to his stupid fucking nerd boyfriend to ask a question like that and expect an answer in the middle of sex. In the middle of prep. In the middle of fingering his ass. However, Katsuki tells him the truth, readily gives him a yes, because there’s nothing like feeling Izuku tighten around his fingers when Katsuki rubs his prostate.

“I love that.” Those fingers straighten, spread, and then curl again, and then a third joins them. Izuku twists his wrist and there’s a little bit of a burn that comes with that, but it’s good. He’s opening Katsuki up more, and the motion is smooth and slick. “It’s incredible, feeling and seeing you like this. Knowing that you feel it too, when you’re doing this to me.”

Deku.” He can feel the flush. Not just in his face; he’s pretty sure his entire fucking body is dusted pink. He doesn’t know if he’s embarrassed or pleased or some mix of the two. Katsuki does know that he wants to come, though—wants to come with Izuku buried deep inside of him, holding him down and keeping him where he wants him.

Heat prickles all along his body and every single one of his nerve-endings spark and ignite, and the next time those fingers curve inside of him, he nearly sobs.

“So good.” Izuku just keeps praising him. “So good for me, aren’t you? Always, Kacchan.”

His cock jerks against his abdomen and spills more pre-cum, and Katsuki almost wants to hide his face but Izuku’s made certain that he can’t, and so he meets Izuku’s eyes and says, “I’m ready. I’m ready, okay? So please. Please, just—”

“All right.” Izuku slips his fingers out carefully, and there are more kisses—on Katsuki’s thighs, his hips, his abdomen, and one ohsosoft one to the head of his cock. “Don’t worry, Kacchan. I’ve got you.”

Izuku upends the bottle of lube and deposits probably more than is necessary into his hand, slicking himself up with it, and then he’s repositioning, he’s sliding up and fitting himself between Katsuki’s thighs, though much differently, this time.

He sinks in slowly, eyes closed in concentration. He advances inch by careful inch, and this is completely different than it had been with his fingers. It’s a different kind of burn and it’s a different kind of full feeling, and Katsuki wants to berate him for taking his sweet fucking time but the slow slide of his cock feels undeniably incredible and so Katsuki doesn’t argue. He just takes it, which is no doubt what Izuku wants him to do.

They both make a sound when Izuku bottoms out, fully seated, and Izuku opens his eyes. His pupils are blown and his face is red and he’s panting and he’s so remarkably beautiful that it’s painful. Katsuki really wants to touch him now, but of course he fucking can’t.

“Do you know you look beautiful when I’m inside you?” Izuku asks him and Katsuki feels all that heat rushing everywhere. He feels electrified; he feels elated, somehow.

He idly wonders if Izuku sees in him what he sees in Izuku, right now.

Izuku pulls back, almost all the way out, and then he pushes back in, only not quite as carefully this time. He begins to rock his hips and he smiles when Katsuki’s legs move to wrap around him. “Ready to get serious, then, hm?”

“What the fuck do you think.” Katsuki tightens the hold that his legs have on Izuku’s waist. “You wanted me bound so that I could just – ah – lie here and take it, right? So give.”

“You’re so sexy when you need me like this, too.” Izuku leans in to nuzzle and then nip at his jaw. “Hold on, then.”

It’s the only warning he’s given before Izuku starts fucking him in earnest—hard and deep, angling it so that he slams against Katsuki’s prostate with every thrust. He’s holding onto Katsuki’s hips and his nails are digging into the upper curve of Katsuki’s ass, and it’s a biting sting but Katsuki welcomes it, just like he welcomes the hot and heavy thrusts of those hips. There’s so much power behind every motion and Katsuki recognizes it, accepts it, respects it, surrenders to it. Here and now and for always.

“Amazing,” Izuku keeps saying, over and over. “You’re amazing.” It strokes his ego, yes, strokes his dick without actual touch, grabs his heart and squeezes like a vice grip, and maybe it should hurt, and maybe it does. But only in the best fucking way imaginable.

Katsuki discovers that clinging onto Izuku and moaning are about all that he’s capable of; Izuku knows quite well now how to work him, how to fuck him, how to make his body quake and how to push him past that point of too much (where everything is overly-sensitive and he feels like he’s going to break) and into euphoric bliss. Izuku knows how to take him there; only Izuku ever has.

He knows, without question, feels it marrow-deep, that Izuku will take him there, right here, in this moment. He welcomes it. Needs it like he needs breath. He’s never needed what any person could give him, really. Not before Izuku. At first, that terrified him. Now, however, that knowledge is as familiar as a second skin, enveloping him with all the warmth of a favorite blanket. He isn’t afraid of it and hasn’t been, for some time.

Their moans mingle and their sweat-slicked bodies writhe and rock together; Izuku’s pounding into him like ‘gentle’ isn’t a word that exists within his vocabulary, and how fucking ironic is that? Katsuki sure as hell doesn’t mind, though—he takes and he takes. He takes everything that Izuku is giving him, and he climbs higher and higher, whatever vestiges of self-control he’d been clinging to now in tatters. He knows he’s being loud, at this point. He can’t help it, and he doesn’t care.

“Your sounds,” Izuku gasps, and Katsuki’s answering groan is ragged. “Fuck, Katsuki.”

He hadn’t thought it possible for Izuku to fuck him even harder, at this point, but he is proven very, very wrong as Izuku does just that; Izuku holds on tighter and so does Katsuki. He feels something shaking and realizes it’s him, his own straining, trembling muscles. Izuku’s nailing his prostrate with every single shove of his hips and thanks to their position, Katsuki’s dick is getting some attention, too—that spine-arching, slick, rough, pain-pleasure friction. Due to all the other sensations, contact that otherwise might not have been quite enough is currently more than enough and then some.

“You’re. So. Perfect.” Izuku punctuates each word with another near-brutal slam of his hips, and Katsuki is so close, so close now that he can taste it; he can feel his orgasm right there. “Perfect. For me. Mine.”

Even though he’d felt it building, it still takes Katsuki by surprise when he comes. His orgasm hits him with the force of a tsunami, white noise blaring loud inside his skull while all the air is ripped from his lungs and white spots dance across his vision like they’re taunting him. He can feel his release as it spurts between them, and Izuku fucks him right through it, intensifying it all.

“Fuck, Katsuki. Fuck.” Izuku sounds helpless, like a wounded animal, and Katsuki knows the feeling all too well. He’s still clenching when Izuku’s hips stutter—four more hard, uneven thrusts and then Izuku is coming too. He shudders and he moans and he stills, his breathing harsh and his now-spent cock twitching, still buried deep inside of Katsuki.

They rest together in the aftermath, relearning how to do this whole breathing thing.

“You really like when I talk,” Izuku eventually says as his softening dick slips out of Katsuki, followed by some of his release. They’ll need a shower and a change of sheets, but more importantly….

“Don’t sound so smug,” Katsuki grunts. “And get me out of these damn things. Playtime’s over.”

Izuku makes a face but does as he’s told, carefully checking to make sure the rope didn’t leave any marks. He kisses one wrist and then the other, and Katsuki’s heart melts.

He wants to hate how he’s such a sap after sex, especially after he’s the one that’s been fucked, but he doesn’t mind it so much, really.

Katsuki flexes his fingers, testing. Everything seems fine, no issues. He promptly cups Izuku’s face in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss—it’s sloppy and it’s perfect and exactly what the both of them need.

Izuku’s grinning like a fool when they pull back. “You had fun, right?”

Katsuki scowls. He does and does not want to further inflate his boyfriend’s ego. He winds up responding with a noncommittal, “Mm.”

“Enough to let me do it again?” He’s prompting. Digging. Pushing. He knows. Of course he does.

Katsuki clears his throat, tries for a growl that mostly falls flat, “Wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face, will you?”

It is and is not an answer. Izuku accepts it. He’s still smiling, bright as the sun. It’s beautiful when it probably should be fucking annoying.

For tonight, Izuku has gotten what he wanted, but then again, so has Katsuki.

(History repeats itself, after all, and will continue to do so.)

What Izuku wants and what Katsuki wants—there’s no real difference, honestly. No dividing line between the two.

(Katsuki isn’t sure when that changed.

Katsuki isn’t sure if it hasn’t always been like this, all along.)