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Momentary Dreams

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Every little noise at the front door brings Shouto to his feet, pushes him to press his eye against the peephole but find it lacking. Every tick of their too-loud clock drives him that much closer to the edge, light scratches mottling red and pink over his arms and bottom lip perforated and scabbing over in the exact same spots. The phone is silent and his heart is too loud, thoughts whirling inside his head and refusing to shut up, and—

Keys jangle in the doorknob, harsh and discordant, and Shouto practically flies to the door. He almost gets skin scraped off his nose when the door abruptly jerks open, a loud sigh following in its wake, but he only has eyes for tousled blond hair and tired red eyes behind stocky black frames.

Katsuki,” Shouto breathes like a prayer, and flings himself against his lover’s tense body.

It’s a struggle of limbs and voices after that, Katsuki’s increasingly annoyed elbows jabbing against Shouto’s kidneys and his irate get off me you fucking idiot mixing with Shouto’s clingy arms and half-choked why didn’t you call me. Katsuki complains about the stench of cigarette smoke, Shouto hugs him that much harder, and eventually the front door’s locked behind them and Katsuki’s divested of his shoes and all his luggage.

But Shouto refuses to let go, cheek pressed against Katsuki’s flyaway hair and arms wrapped securely around Katsuki’s shoulders, and he feels the moment his lover gives it up as a bad job. Jerky attempts to fix his glasses, irritable mumbling under his breath—he’s seen and heard it all before, but all he can think is home.

“You’re home,” Shouto breathes against Katsuki’s ear for the tenth time, and it’s at that moment that Katsuki snaps.

“Of course I’m fucking home—where the fuck else would I be after coming back from that godawful conference?!” Katsuki damn near screams in Shouto’s face—but Shouto smiles back at him through it all, and Katsuki changes tack with an irritable, “Just because your dick was lonely—”

“You said you’d be back by the fifth,” Shouto murmurs, almost too soft to catch. “I was waiting at the airport the entire day for you, and you…”

You weren’t there, Shouto doesn’t quite say, but the way Katsuki stiffens then loosens with a drawn-out sigh tells him he doesn’t need to say it aloud anyway. I was worried sick, he conveys with a press of his lips against Katsuki’s nape, and Katsuki…

Fuck,” he swears, fiddling with his glasses then running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t I write down the fifteenth? I would’ve been over the fucking moon if I could come back ten days earlier—”

“You wrote the fifth,” Shouto says almost placidly, and Katsuki’s jaw closes with a snap. He steers them to the kitchen, then, where little notes litter the fridge door, and serenely points at one marked ‘Conference – 30th to 5th’.

Just one number separating truth from lies—but Shouto had remembered sitting at the airport lounge, anticipation giving way to concern giving way to listlessness. When people had come off the plane with blond hair and black glasses and plaid shirts but never a combination of all three, and he’d…

“There are flight trackers,” Katsuki mutters exasperatedly, but he’s stopped squirming in Shouto’s hold. “You had my number and you knew I was staying with Mina—”

But all Shouto cares about are the arms winding around his waist and the shift of muscles as Katsuki turns around in his loosening hold. He tightens his arms when Katsuki’s facing him, forehead pressed against his shoulders and glasses digging a little uncomfortably into his chest—but like this, Shouto knows he’s here. He’s here, with him, after ten days of pacing and fretting and endless worst-case scenarios running through his head, and…

When Shouto presses his lips to Katsuki’s fluffy hair and murmurs welcome home against it, there’s a huff and an equally soft yeah, I’m back.

And just like that, with three words and a warm hug, Shouto’s heart settles down and he smiles, small but all the warmer for it.

Shouto, Katsuki takes great pleasure in informing him, stinks—probably from a combination of factors, like not showering for almost three days or drinking every single drop of alcohol in the house during that time—and Katsuki’s no daisy either, so they’re both standing beneath the showerhead in due time. To save water and shit, Katsuki tells him, but there’s a telltale blush to his cheeks and he spends just a few seconds too long adjusting his glasses on his face.

He’ll sort his luggage out afterwards, Katsuki says while he’s unbuttoning his plaid shirt and shimmying out of his nice pressed pants, deal with all the other plaid shirts and nice pressed pants he’d brought to his stuffy little linguistics conference on the other side of the world. He rambles on about English terms Shouto doesn’t have a hope of understanding, having never understood them the first time he’d heard them from Katsuki’s lips in high school, and they both know Shouto’s not paying attention.

Because all Shouto has eyes for is the dip of a clavicle as Katsuki shrugs his shirt off, the cut of his hips as his boxers come off too, and his gaze burns. It’s not until Katsuki’s setting his glasses onto the vanity that Shouto finally pulls himself from his daze and strips down too, all haste and jerky efficiency in his rush to join Katsuki—

And when he bares himself to his lover, nothing but ink to preserve the modesty he doesn’t even pretend to have, Shouto smiles as Katsuki whips his head to the side and marches into the shower, red from the tips of his ears to his delectable collarbone.

Katsuki’s first mistake is not watching as Shouto sidles into the shower after him—his second, if Shouto could even call it a mistake, is baring his ass to Shouto’s hungry gaze. For all that Katsuki’s the picture perfect example of a nerd, all thick glasses and proper clothes and a mind too fixated on books to care for the world at large, he has a very nice ass—and Shouto drinks in the sight of it even as he slots neatly against it. They’re joined from shoulder to hip, Shouto tilting his head to breathe gently against Katsuki’s cherry-red ears, and they only flush redder when Shouto presses a hand against his stomach.

“Hey there,” Shouto whispers into Katsuki’s ear, resting his other hand against his lover’s thigh, and smiles faintly at the shiver that wracks Katsuki in its wake.

It’s been months and years since they first kissed each other, rough and rushed in a dark corner of the library—but after all this time, Katsuki’s ears are still just as sensitive as they were then.

And from his shaky exhale and his shakier, “I know you’re there, idiot, I can feel your dick pressing against my ass,” Katsuki knows it too—he’s just choosing to hide it, like always.

Cute, Shouto can’t help thinking, and presses a butterfly kiss to Katsuki’s ear before groping blindly for their body wash.

The scent of citrus fills the shower stall before long, blanketing Katsuki’s sweet strawberry-vanilla and Shouto’s smoke-fire-pine. Katsuki shivers beneath every brush of Shouto’s hands as he spreads the lather across his front, whimpers falling softly from Katsuki’s parted lips when Shouto rolls his thumbs over his nipples, but Shouto only hums snatches of a half-forgotten tune into his ear and continues on.

They’re both aware of how hard they are—Shouto can see Katsuki’s cock, flushed and weeping and incongruous amongst the creamy soap suds, and Katsuki can no doubt feel Shouto’s arousal digging against his ass. Katsuki’s breaths are less like breaths and more like gasps, heart fluttering like a caged bird beneath Shouto’s palm whenever he brushes against the skin atop it, and Shouto’s no less composed for all that his own breathing’s more even. It’s torture, keeping his touches light and (mostly) innocent as he washes Katsuki from his shoulders to his hips, skirting Katsuki’s flushed cock and never once moving away from their wet slide against one another—

But Shouto can hear the way Katsuki’s gasps are giving way to soft whimpers and softer moans, legs trembling from the onslaught of tenderness, and he’s smiling before he’s even aware of it. Usually, sex between them is a clash of wills, strength pushing against strength until one gives—Katsuki, mostly, but Shouto’s given way on a few memorable occasions—but rarely do they ever do soft.

Rarely does Shouto dial it back a few notches, caress every inch of Katsuki’s pale skin and worship it like he does with his heated gazes, and Katsuki’s reactions are all the stronger for it.

Katsuki’s trembling visibly, voice one long succession of moans that Shouto’s certain is unconscious, by the time he’s washed the lathery suds off and rested his hands on Katsuki’s tapered waist. “Feeling cleaner now, sweetheart?” he murmurs, all low and husky into Katsuki’s ears, and the breathless keen he gets back is absolutely worth it.

He’s so very ready to shift Katsuki’s hips up and sink right into him, one long slide that he knows will punch what little breath’s in Katsuki’s lungs out of them. Were it not for how tight he always feels, even after Shouto’s thoroughly stretched him out, he might’ve even acted on it.

But he steadies his breathing, only moves enough to brush his thumbs against Katsuki’s hips, and breathes, “Angel, you know I can’t read your mind.”

Katsuki’s hitched breath and his half-choked, “Why the fuck’d you wash me for if you were gonna fuck me up anyway!” is like music to Shouto’s ears.

Broken, off-tune music—but Katsuki always sings best when Shouto’s fucking the notes right out of him, and this time will be no different.

Ideally, Shouto would wait for Katsuki to grant his permission more graciously—but they’ve been apart for too many days, and Shouto has no patience left for teasing touches or filthy growls. No sooner has Katsuki spoken that Shouto’s spinning him around, pressing them together from chest to thighs, and ravishing his lips in an eating kiss.

They’re just as soft as they always are against his lips, a little dry and chapped from lacking self-care that Shouto will definitely rectify later, and Katsuki moans agreeably enough into it. Shouto winds a hand into Katsuki’s hair, less fluffy than it is a sad, sodden mass of yellow strands, and presses his other rather suggestively against Katsuki’s ass to coax out another, more debauched moan.

Katsuki obliges as always—another thing that hasn’t changed over their time together is how vocal Katsuki gets, whether it’s arguments or sex—and Shouto rewards him by clinking his tongue piercing against Katsuki’s teeth. Another moan, completely free of charge, slips from Katsuki’s parted lips, and Shouto swallows it down with a smile and a flick of his tongue.

One thing that has changed, at least, is Katsuki’s kissing technique—no longer is he the awkward, fumbling amateur Shouto had ‘tutored’ so long ago. Now, when Shouto presses his tongue into his mouth, Katsuki twines them together with well-practiced ease, eyelids slipping half-shut as the warm shower spray washes over them. Hands press almost shyly against Shouto’s ass and in this, at least, he hasn’t changed either—until he’s properly warmed up, Katsuki still acts like the awkward virgin he most decidedly is not anymore.

But it’s just as endearing as it was the first time around, when he really was nothing but a nerd who knew too much about masturbation but not enough about sex, and Shouto presses the tip of his finger against Katsuki’s rim just to feel him start.

There have been times, few and far between, where Shouto’s taken a step back and let Katsuki take charge—but today is not one of those times, and Katsuki knows it as well as Shouto does. After half a month without any contact—Katsuki knows he’s fucked up by not checking his call log or email inbox in the chaos of the conference, and he only shifts his legs a little further apart as Shouto massages around his tight, twitching pucker.

It does absolutely nothing to loosen him up or lessen the sensation, as always, but Shouto revels in the slight height advantage Katsuki’s shift gives him. Ever since Katsuki hit his final growth spurt and almost grew level with Shouto, it’d been—not difficult, but just a little inconvenient to nibble and suck other areas. Now that he’s a little lower, though, Shouto can comfortably press a kiss to his forehead, chaste and all the softer for it—

And beneath his lips, more red blooms to life. No matter how flushed Katsuki gets—one sweet act from Shouto, and he grows impossibly flustered from it.

It’s a transformation Shouto has never and will never get tired of, and Katsuki’s barely-audible whine only sweetens it more for him.

As much as Shouto wants to continue coaxing soft, gentle reactions from Katsuki, though—his cock aches, hard and flushed from his lover’s body sliding against his own. For all that Shouto wants to cherish Katsuki, map his body with tongue and teeth and fingers until Katsuki’s oversensitive and sobbing from his touch—he needs to feel Katsuki, needs the reassurance that he’s here.

So it’s a good thing that they have a bottle of lube nestled between the body wash and shampoo, kept there for occurrences like these. Personally, Shouto doesn’t mind the body wash, but—something about having suds up his ass makes Katsuki disagreeable about bottoming, and Shouto needs to be fucking into Katsuki sixteen days ago.

Thankfully for Shouto, Katsuki has no such compunctions about actual lube in the shower—so Shouto slathers a decent amount of the strawberry-flavoured stuff on his fingers, sneaks in a lick just to see Katsuki’s pupils dilate at the sight, and nudges his fingers more purposefully against Katsuki’s asshole. A quick massage around the fluttering rim and a few short thrusts against Katsuki’s cock to keep him nicely distracted, and then—

Tight, velvety warmth sheaths Shouto’s middle finger, and he drinks in Katsuki’s moan almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

His ass is not as tight as it usually is—which wouldn’t have been strange for other people, but Katsuki’s was always impossibly tight. Even after all the fucking Shouto’s done to him since he’d first stepped foot into Katsuki’s apartment—and Shouto pounced on every opportunity, so it amounted to quite a lot of fucking—it always took time to stretch him with one finger, there was always an agonizing wait between prepping him and easing his dick in, and Shouto loved it just as much as it tried his patience.

But when Shouto licks the shell of Katsuki’s ear and rasps, “Baby, did you bring your toys to play with while you stayed with Mina?” the response he gets is nothing he would’ve predicted.

He’d expected something along the lines of a stuttered denial or a bashful confirmation, but—

“I kept a vibe in my ass on the plane,” Katsuki laughs, voice cocky for all that his flush spreads down his chest and the red of his eyes gradually becomes swallowed in black. “Every time I—hah!—s-shifted in my seat, I wished—ngh, fuck—I wished it was y-you in me.

“A-Almost came when I—s-shit!—took it out b-before I left the airport,” Katsuki continues shakily, even as Shouto moans into his ear, presses another finger into him and begins scissoring them roughly. “Couldn’t—I c-couldn’t wait for you to be i-inside me ohhhh fucking hell—”

“So you prepped yourself for me, babe?” Shouto growls, low and hungry as he massages Katsuki’s prostate with tight little circles. “How long was that flight—fifteen hours? And you didn’t even cum once?

Katsuki’s sob is answer enough, thighs trembling against Shouto’s as he clings to him for dear life, but Shouto’s words are merciless as he coos, “Oh, Katsuki, you must’ve wanted to cum so bad.”

His cries are wordless as Shouto slides a third finger in between one thrust and the next, cock twitching and dribbling precum steadily against Shouto’s thigh as Shouto slams his fingers against Katsuki’s prostate, aim unerring and pace punishing. “I wonder if anyone looked at you and noticed it, on the plane,” Shouto muses, mockingly conversational as Katsuki’s moans and sobs get higher and wilder. “Surely someone must’ve seen how perfect you were and thought about taking you apart—little knowing that you were already doing it to yourself.

“And it was all for me, wasn’t it?” Shouto purrs possessively, pressing a harsh kiss against Katsuki’s slack mouth before nibbling and sucking hickeys beneath Katsuki’s jaw. “Tell me, Katsuki—was it the one you bought because it was my size?”

Yes,” Katsuki half-sobs and half-hisses, blunt nails dragging against Shouto’s back as his hips stutter between pressing against Shouto’s cock and fucking back against the fingers inside him. “Fuck, yes, I m-missed you so fucking much and I j-just—”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Shouto croons, abruptly sliding his fingers out and leaving Katsuki to keen at the loss. “You did so well for me—you’re so fucking perfect, my perfect little slut—”

It hits the mark every time, and this time’s no different—Katsuki throws his head back and shakes, throat working convulsively as he tries to scream but can’t. Shouto closes his fingers harshly against his cock just in time, smirks darkly even as Katsuki trembles like a leaf and whines, thin and reedy, at his denied orgasm, but he waits for Katsuki’s teary eyes to glare at him.

“Did I say you could cum yet?” Shouto growls, low and dark. “Did I give you permission, Katsuki?”

Tears slide down Katsuki’s cheek and mingle with the water soaking their bodies, but he manages a short, jerky shake of his head. Even when he’s beyond words, he still answers—and Shouto’s chest tightens at how well-trained he is, so obedient when it counted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you soon,” Shouto promises gently, as though he hadn’t just scolded Katsuki five seconds ago—

And when he presses Katsuki against the cool tiles, legs wrap around his waist even as he bites a large, dark hickey into Katsuki’s beautiful collarbone. All the ones he’d pressed into his lover’s jaw, neck and shoulders had faded in the half-month he’d been away—but Shouto is more than happy to rectify that, and Katsuki seems more than happy to let him.

At least, if his cries and moans are anything to go by—but they are so very unrestrained and so very, very debauched. Shouto thinks it’s safe to say that Katsuki has missed him just as much as Shouto has missed him, and that thought is enough to make Shouto moan into a vicious bite between the juncture of Katsuki’s shoulders and neck, drawing both blood and a high, breathless keen from Katsuki’s body.

But then there’s no noise at all from either of them save the slick slide of Shouto’s cockhead kissing Katsuki’s rim, and the soft susurrations from their shower doing nothing to muffle that lewd sound. With his eyes locked on Katsuki’s and his lips ghosting breaths against Katsuki’s own, Shouto sighs when his cockhead breaches that tight ring and he rolls his hips, sheathing himself inside his trembling, flushed lover with one long thrust.

Katsuki,” Shouto moans against plush pink lips, rings of silver and blue encircling his blown pupils as he rests his forehead against his lover’s. “Katsuki, fuck, you feel so…”

So good, his mind whispers deliriously, gaze caressing Katsuki’s blissed-out features and the boneless lull of his neck. All mine, Shouto’s possessive side purrs, and the spectacularly bruising hickeys riddling his collarbone and neck are a testament to that.

It’s so hard to stay still when he only wants to move, chase his pleasure in the curve of Katsuki’s toned ass and the edges of his lean, muscled body, but Shouto clings to what scraps of reason remain and lets Katsuki adjust to his length and girth. He knows that his lover had opened himself up on the plane—and the mere thought makes his cock twitch dangerously inside Katsuki, startling a guttural moan from that beautifully lax mouth—but he waited ten days too many to blow his load so soon.

When he cums inside Katsuki, it will be after he fucks an orgasm right out of Katsuki first—and it’s that tantalizing mental image, a reality he can almost taste on the tip of his tongue, which pushes Shouto to croon, “Angel, are you okay?”

Shouto expects several responses—fingers carving bloody lines into his back, perhaps, or a broken rendition of his name. Any sort of helpless, lusty noise is Shouto’s first choice, but then Katsuki cracks open unfocused, bleary eyes and—

“I,” Katsuki forces out in the most unimpressed voice Shouto’s ever heard in his life, “am going to fall asleep on your dick if you don’t move!”

And—well. With that sort of taunt, what can Shouto do but up the ante?

The slow slide of Shouto’s cock makes Katsuki gasp, throat baring almost automatically for Shouto’s teeth to nip, and Shouto bites around Katsuki’s Adam’s apple even as he clenches his stomach muscles and stills. The delicious clench of Katsuki’s rim around the base of his cockhead, so tight but so very warm, is almost enough to break his composure—

But Shouto was the one who coaxed two successive orgasms out of Katsuki before succumbing to his first, all those months and years ago. Shouto is the one who’s almost always in control and it’s Shouto whose feet are planted on the ground, legs shifted shoulder-width apart to compensate for Katsuki’s weight against his hips.

It’s Shouto who drops Katsuki onto his cock even as he thrusts up, and far too much time spent fucking Katsuki allows his cockhead to slam straight into Katsuki’s prostate on the first hard thrust. The effect is instantaneous—were Shouto not clinching his fingers around Katsuki’s cock, there is no way that his lover wouldn’t have cum on the spot from that.

Even so, Shouto can feel Katsuki’s cock desperately fight against his hold and a bead of cum manages to dribble pathetically out. Even so, Katsuki’s mouth is wide open, head lolling against the tiles behind him as his eyes roll back in his head from the onslaught of pleasure, and he’s not even screaming.

He’s so thoroughly fucked out that he can’t make a single sound, and it’s that which convinces Shouto to let go. He’d wanted to fuck Katsuki until he forgot his own name, fuck him right into oblivion then out again for making him worry so much, but it’s been ten days too long and he simply cannot last.

“Katsuki, baby, cum for me,” Shouto growls against Katsuki’s slack lips, and thrusts exactly three more times before cumming himself.

And what an orgasm it is.

It’s almost in sync with Katsuki’s—because, for all that Katsuki was on the verge of cumming and even came a little before, Shouto’s voice acts as his trigger more often than not these days. It’s the same for himself, in a sense, because he won’t cum until Katsuki does, or unless Katsuki tells him to during the odd occasion where their roles are reversed.

Perhaps someone who doesn’t know about the depth of their affection and trust for each other would call them stupid, to invest so much emotion and themselves in general for each other that even acts like these, base and unconscious, respond to conscious commands.

But what does Shouto care about the outside world, when he’s flooding Katsuki’s ass with his cum and biting into Katsuki’s shoulder hard enough to bleed?

The sharp metallic tang of blood only makes Shouto cum that much harder, makes Katsuki keen that much louder, and his vision bleed gloriously white before he stills in Katsuki. For all that he wants to continue fucking into Katsuki, push himself beyond the threshold of overstimulation and get them both to cum again—his legs don’t obey him, and he finds himself slumping to his knees with Katsuki cradled in his arms.

Katsuki, for his part, is so blissed out that his eyes are rolled back in his head. He doesn’t even manage a groan of protest when Shouto slips out, like he usually does whenever Shouto forgets—accidentally or otherwise—to slip on a condom before they fuck.

But he does manage to stir enough to twitch his lips when Shouto presses butterfly kisses to his nose, his half-closed eyelids, the arch of his cheekbones and his kiss-swollen lips. Soft shivers travel lazily through him as Shouto cleans him—properly, this time around—and his gaze caresses Shouto’s body as he switches his focus to himself. Shouto can tell that Katsuki’s not quite there anymore, is teetering on the edge of exhaustion and will likely fall asleep if he’s shifted from beneath the warm-hot spray…

So he dries Katsuki for him, rubbing the soft towel over his soft skin and trailing slightly pruny fingers in its wake. It’s tempting to get Katsuki worked up again, go another round to make up for the half-month apart—but Shouto only huffs a laugh when Katsuki’s hand clumsily cups his soft cock, smooths a hand through the fluffy disaster masquerading as Katsuki’s vigorously towel-dried hair, and dries himself off before carrying his lover into the bedroom.

For all that Katsuki is beautifully relaxed, for all that Shouto would love to finger him until he’s hard and ready for another round—he slips into bed beside his naked lover in an identical state of dress, cards gentle fingers through Katsuki’s hair, and watches him fall asleep with a faint smile on his face.

“I love you, Katsuki” Shouto whispers then, breath fanning against his lover’s peaceful face, and touches their foreheads together. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

(but when he’s snoring softly, red eyes slip open, and three words are mouthed against Shouto’s lips before Katsuki truly joins his lover in sleep)