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It was a joke.
Well. It started off as one. Some dumb one-liner from Denki during a night out with the old 3-A class, something-something sweat, something-something caramel syrup. It was a dumb joke, admittedly, one that didn’t go anywhere outside of grabbing a few laughs from the other heroes and a threatening glare from Katsuki. But Izuku?
Izuku spent the rest of the night staring at the way it beaded on Katsuki’s hands. His forehead. His neck.
Joke or not, Izuku was aware of the truth. How Katsuki wiped and wiped at his palms, his underarms, how the excess of sweat was always an issue for the boy in middle school. It was hard not to notice when he was a walking candy store, the smell of caramel – sometimes so burnt and crisp and hot – followed the blond wherever he went. Puberty did that to a boy, turned him to a man, and instead of the disgustingly cloying scent of body odor, Katsuki was blessed with sickly sweetness, a gift from his mother.
He masked it with cologne now. But the sweat was always there, clinging to his skin. No one else knew and everyone moved on from the joke. Except for Izuku.
Patrol the next morning was spent with his eyes glued to Katsuki’s body. The way he moved so harshly, every punch a gunshot, every blast a bomb in his hands, hot and heavy. With such a revealing costume, could anyone really blame him for looking a little longer than necessary? For observing how his skin shone and slipped, the black of his costume growing blacker as the day went on and the sun grew high in the sky then low again. Their off moments were spent relaying information, yes, but Izuku could only focus in on the way Katsuki wiped at his hands with an absorbent towel as if he couldn’t quite get them dry enough.
Katsuki caught him staring and threw his towel right at his face, screaming and scolding him for being distracted on the job despite the fact that they were taking five to refuel.
If he noticed Izuku taking an extra big inhale once the towel hit his face, he didn’t say a thing. Izuku didn’t either as he slipped the towel into one of the pouches on his belt while the other had his back turned. He laughed it off and discussed something or another, Izuku couldn’t recall. Not when the weight of the used towel hung on his hip for the rest of the day.
He should have thrown it away. It was gross, Izuku knew that. Keeping some sweat-soaked towel? It was gross. Disgusting as he checked his belt later at home, revolting as he took it out with trembling hands and the scent of sugared sweets hit him once more, his body growing hot and his pants growing tight at the mere smell of it.
Gross.
Throwing it away was inevitable when Izuku jerked off so ferociously into the towel that the odor that came from it was much more unpleasant than before.
Katsuki yelled at him the next day for not looking him in the eye.
Izuku felt shame and humiliation wash over him every time they got close. Knew he was fucked in the head when their sparring got hot enough to warrant the use of an AC, but even then Izuku would watch with a careful eye as a bead of sweat took a happy trail from Katsuki’s scalp to his neck and right down his spine to soak into his tank top, Izuku feeling the sopping wetness as he grabbed onto the other just to slam him down onto the mat beneath them.
He faltered as he got a face full of caramel delights in the form of Katsuki wrapping his arm around his neck for a choking hold and allowed himself to be pinned if only to run from the way his cock twitches in his pants at the smell.
Izuku felt his hot body run cold when Katsuki stopped laughing above him, the feeling of the other hero’s thigh pressed hard against his erection enough to kill him inside.
There wasn’t enough time to even croak out Katsuki’s name before the blond was sending a small explosion into his face and stomping up and out of the training room, leaving Izuku flat on his ass and out of breath, ready to crawl into the nearest open grave.
It was gross, after all. If Katsuki really wanted to, there would be nothing stopping him from taking it to their boss, to headquarters, reporting such an indecent thing. It had happened before to other heroes, tales of creeping touches and too-close calls to be anything other than assault, and sure, his ranking was higher than the blond’s, but that meant nothing when considering the severity of such a situation. It was disgusting and definitely should have been reported. Yet, despite that, Izuku was never approached with a pink slip. And he waited.
The next two weeks were hell. Izuku felt eyes in the back of his head at a constant rate at work, glaring holes into him every time they weren’t zeroed in on some villain. That caramel scent had gone sour, burnt and stuck and refusing to get anywhere near him, much less speak more than a word to him at a time. Their relationship wasn’t one to write home about – friends, right? They were friends? – but even this was pathetic and Izuku knew it was all thanks to him.
Izuku let his head rest on the cold metal of the locker before him, the lights dim as he changed from his hero suit and into his civilian clothing. At least the awkward air between them had led to longer hours. It was hard work, but Izuku never really minded it. Besides, he had heard Katsuki went home earlier to handle some sort of family business. It meant he took his time changing and wallowing in the fact that he was forever going to be labeled as some perverted loser in Katsuki’s mind.
It was pretty easy to mope when he was alone in the locker room, the keys to the building weighing heavy in his hand as he turned and closed his locker, letting it lock behind him and more than prepared to make a getaway to home where he could pout even more.
Izuku paused, however, when he spotted sight of a locker door looking just the slightest bit out of place.
It wasn’t uncommon. Rookies in the agency were quick and eager, never really shutting them properly. They never had to worry about something like theft, knowing the consequences and being able to trust one another for the most part, so a locker door being ajar wasn’t something to be observed very closely.
But the rookie lockers were in the next aisle over. These lockers were for the top-ranking heroes.
Izuku looked around once, then twice, stepped forward then back as he hesitated about his decision, then stepped forward again when he couldn’t quell his curiosity.
The locker was plain. They all were underneath, just grey metal with a name tag and a lock pad to keep out anyone who it didn’t belong to, but a lot of them were decorated to the liking of each hero. Izuku’s own had plenty of reminding sticky notes and stickers plastered on it. But this one was plain, the stark white of the nameplate staring back at him.
Bakugou.
It was stupid to think this was normal. Izuku knew it was by some stroke of complete unluck or sheer mistake that his locker was open. He could probably tribute it to the family emergency, think that Katsuki was in too much of a rush to properly close it before he was rushing out, but that was too unlike the hero, someone who took time to ensure everything was where it needed to be. Aggressive personality be damned, Katsuki would rather die than let something slip out of place. The blond was someone who refused to even give out his number, much less leave his locker open for everyone to see. It didn’t make any logical sense for a private hero like him to go around practically announcing that he was open. Vulnerable.
It all had run through Izuku’s mind at breakneck speed but instead of being suspicious, he played the idiot role and grabbed the locker door to open it even further.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expected. Katsuki was someone who told everything as it was, so Izuku knew he would find no skeletons inside, so to say. There wasn’t much at all, in fact, the top shelf of it reserved for his hygiene products – Izuku counted five different sticks of deodorant and two bottles of cologne among the amenities - the hooks hung with his gym bags and at the bottom, there lay only one thing.
A black tank top. Katsuki’s shirt worn to his workout.
The locker room was known for being a rancid place that the public jeered and joked about, how heroes must mess with one another in such a space like athletes tended to do, but the reality of the situation was much more akin to a sweaty room that was far too humid and rank to be comfortable while others were also changing.
But Katsuki’s shirt might as well have been a damn candy store.
It wasn’t hard to smell, not when Izuku was the only one around and the locker was open. The strong scent of the products on the shelf was nothing compared to the siren song that was the tank top, Izuku’s hands trembling as they reached out before his mind could even think.
If he were thinking, he would have shut the door. Izuku could have just snapped out of it and been a Good Samaritan for his fellow hero and locked the unit, turned around, and forgotten all about this filthy reaction he was having.
Izuku picked up the shirt from the floor of the locker and pressed it flush against his face.
This close, Izuku could taste it. His teeth ached in their roots as caramel shivers wracked his body, his brain on a sugar high and completely unwilling to come back down. There was no reason for this to be sexual – it shouldn’t have been, this was revolting, an invasion of privacy – but nevertheless, Izuku closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe in the dirty shirt entirely without shame, content in the few seconds of pure bliss and pleasure. It felt filthy and it was, Izuku reasoning with himself in some way, shape, form that it was okay because no one would know. This would satiate his curiosity; he would hold this memory dear to his heart and to his dick once he got home to jerk off.
Izuku allowed himself to be consumed in the shirt, the black fabric easily covering his face as he stood in his spot, rooted by sugar cane sweetness, and only pulled it away when his head began to swim.
“You fucking done now?”
The keys hung heavy in his pocket, a reminder that the doors were still very much open to any hero with an access card. Including one K. Bakugou.
With the shirt off his face, it was easier to feel the eyes glaring into the back of his head, how they burned into his very being and froze over Hell itself. Izuku was a hero, brave and strong, but this was a final boss. He wasn’t equipped, couldn’t breathe or speak in the presence of this foe, so even he was surprised when he dared to turn his head the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of the blond.
“Family business my fucking ass. You really believed that shit?” Katsuki stood behind him, arms crossed over a broad chest, a wrinkle between his eyes where he glared at Izuku. He was a wolf waiting to strike. To tear out a hare’s throat. Izuku swallowed thickly.
“I-I… This isn’t, uh-“
Katsuki took a step forward, arms uncrossing and flexing into fists, fiery sparks popping off his palms. “’Uh, uh, this isn’t’ what? What it fucking looks like? ‘Cause to me, it looks like a shitty fucking pervert is smelling my goddamn clothes.”
Izuku could see his pink slip now. Notice of Termination: Being a huge pervert and creep to the max to a childhood best friend who was already struggling to see Izuku as more than a nuisance. Panic made a home in Izuku’s bones, his hands clammy and hot in the sweaty shirt as he made a move to turn and face the blond entirely. There was no doubt his face was a mess of pale-horror and red-shame, an ugly amalgamation of his perverted sin. It became even more true when Katsuki barked out a laugh, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moved them to his sides and took another closer step forward.
“You know how much fucking trouble this could get you in, Deku? Could you imagine the headlines?” Izuku could see them now. Katsuki didn’t need to continue, but he did, edging ever closer as the heat of the locker room cranked up higher and higher. “Number One Hero Fired on Basis of Sexual Misconduct.”
Katsuki’s chest was practically against Izuku’s own, the sweltering heat of his body a furnace in the enclosed space. The shirt was ripped from his hands and Izuku allowed it to be, trembling under the watchful eyes just two inches about his own. Katsuki was smiling ear to ear, feral, sweaty. “Wouldn’t that be fucking something? Fired for being a sick, filthy clothes sniffer?”
Izuku felt tears sting his eyes and bile crush at his throat, threatening to spill with the immense amount of shame. The floor could open before him and there would be nothing stopping him from throwing himself into its gaping maw. The question hung between them on a noose, ready to jump the second Izuku replied, and it took moments – days, weeks, years – to even consider opening his mouth in fear of the word vomit that might come out. And, in this case, actual vomit.
Nothing came out when he did, however. The only thing that happened when he opened his mouth was Katsuki moving faster than he could register, the blond’s arm shooting out to pin Izuku against the locker while the other came up and shoved the shirt just about into his mouth.
The cold metal of Katsuki’s open locker dug painfully into Izuku’s spine, but that sensation paled in comparison to the cloth cloying in his mouth, sapping his saliva up in exchange for the syrup sweetness now on the expanse of his tongue. His nose buried in what remained of the fabric outside his stretched lips, Izuku struggled to catch a breath among the overwhelming feelings, Katsuki refusing to let up as he pressed the fabric harsher, deeper into Izuku’s very being. “How’s it fucking smell, huh, Deku? This what you wanted? Some quality alone time with my damn sweat?”
The answer was yes, but Izuku couldn’t answer Katsuki even if he tried. Not when his body was ultimately weak against the assault on his senses. It was a fight to keep his body from touching Katsuki’s in any way, shape, or form, the idea of Katsuki finding out about the growing erection in his pants enough to keep him squirming to get away from the blond’s hold.
That thought came to a screeching halt when Katsuki cut the noose straight across by slamming his hips against Izuku’s and, in turn, pressing his raging hard-on against him.
“You’re so fucking disgusting.”
The sweat-soaked shirt was finally pulled from his mouth, from his throat, allowing Izuku to suck in a needy breath of air. Sugar coated his teeth, bottom to tip, his tongue running along the grooves, and eventually out to gather what was left on his lips like a dog desperate for water. It didn’t go unnoticed, Katsuki’s hips pressing ever-closer into his own as the blond growled in his ear. “Is this all you can think about? My damn sweat? I should have known a freak like you would be into this sort of thing.”
In a sane situation, one not ripped from some weird, obscure category on a website best suited for a throwaway account, Izuku would have pointed out that Katsuki was also into this freaky sort of thing, but that was currently the last thing on his mind. Right now, all his concerns were out the window and across the hills, his focus entirely on the way Katsuki rolled and ground his hips, and more importantly, how he rolled right back.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck-“ Izuku couldn’t even finish his sentence, his head tilting back to catch any remains of clean air so that he wouldn’t pass out from the dizzying scent of Katsuki’s sweat. It only gave room for Katsuki to lean in and puff his hot breath onto the column of his neck, canines grazing the skin, a promise beneath the surface as Izuku shivered under the attention. His hands struggled to find purchase, landing on the other’s shirt – the one still on his body – pulling and tugging it gently. “Kacchan, God, w-wait!”
“Wait?” The word was spat into Izuku’s neck, vicious and mocking like it were the most ridiculous thing he’d heard. “You think I’m going to fucking wait after watching you be the freaky pervert you are? Hell no!” As if to prove his point, Katsuki all but yanked Izuku back, ignoring the small yelp it ripped from him as he slammed the other down onto the bench between the lockers. The wood of it was too slim to do much other than poke into his back, hardly a solid support system, especially when Katsuki saw fit to sit right down on his thighs, effectively keeping him in place.
Izuku could have pushed him off. It would be easy if he used his quirk. But instead, he sat and breathed heavily as the blond above him smiled, terrifying delight etched onto his feature as he shoved the gym shirt back onto Izuku’s face. Izuku’s cock twitched against his ass as he breathed in.
“Soak it the hell up, freak. This is the only chance you’re getting at shit like this,” Katsuki warned, taking pleasure in the way Izuku’s hands struggled to find a home, the way they shook as they fell into place on his thighs. Izuku’s pupils were blown wide, open mouth sucking in air through the knit fabric and devouring the caramel scent. “You look so damn stupid.” Stupid or not, Izuku squeezed Katsuki’s legs as he let his eyes slip shut, groaning and biting down on the shirt when Katsuki’s ass ground down onto him.
The shirt was ripped away once more, Izuku’s upper half moving to chase the odor, but he was stopped by a hand on his chest. “You fucking like that? You like that, perv?” Izuku swallowed, unsure of whether he was supposed to answer but doing so anyway with a shaky nod of his head. Katsuki laughed, cruel and mean, leaning down close to him. “You’re going to fucking love this.”
Katsuki shifted his hips up, scooting the slightest hair up the length of Izuku’s body to sit above his cock, Izuku’s hands readily adjusting to rest easy on the man’s ass. Confusion hit for a second until his view of Katsuki’s face was obstructed completely, watching with genuine interest as the blond twisted his body and lifted his arm. “Dig in, freak.”
His armpit. Izuku was granted complete, total access to Katsuki’s armpit.
And honestly, it would be rude not to dig in.
Izuku couldn’t think, not when he was doing as he was told and letting his face sink into the soft skin of the cavity. It should have been gross, revolting, something only seen on prank videos or the weird side of some porn site, but fuck, Izuku couldn’t help but experience true ecstasy. This close to the source, Izuku could taste it, the wetness on his lips just a tongue swipe away. It was sugar, plain and simple, and Izuku was looking for a high as he stuck a hesitant tongue out to taste the caramel sweetness. The muscles beneath the skin jumped and twitched with the new feeling, Izuku relishing in the way Katsuki’s spine shivered top to bottom with the quick lap of his tongue on the skin. His erection grew almost painful where it was concealed in his shorts as he repeated the action over and over, never seeming to drink up enough of the saccharine sweat.
He wasn’t the only engrossed in the activity, the feeling of a hot, hard dick against his stomach more than enough proof. It was still hidden behind his and KAtsuki’s shirt but the sensation was unforgettable, Izuku wishing they weren’t so flush together so that he could touch Katsuki, make the other feel good, feel just how amazing this was, how it tasted.
“You’re fucking sick, you know that, Deku?” Katsuki huffed, breath hot and panting in the utter silence of the locker room, the only interruptions the wet lapping and slurping under his shoulder. He could feel the wet hotness of Izuku’s tongue rolling and running over his skin, desperate and fast to catch sweat that didn’t seem to cease up. “Fuck, Deku, you’re like a damn animal. This turn you on that much? Being my fucking sweat pig?”
It was repulsive. Insulting. The final piece necessary to push Izuku over the edge of pleasure. Cumming in his pants hadn’t been a thing since he was still in UA, rutting against some pillow or hard edge, yet his entire body tensed and convulsed as he sucked in a needy breath, squeezing the blond’s ass tight and close. The front of his shorts turned into a sticky mess, his body taking a moment to bathe in the feeling before finally relaxing against the uncomfortable bench.
Humiliation couldn’t set in, not when his mind was in such a thick haze that he was afraid he truly wasn’t breathing. If he wasn’t, then his lungs got up and running when Katsuki’s all but slapped down on his chest, hard enough to make him wheeze. The blond sat up, Izuku wincing as he moved his hands from Katsuki’s ass to rub at the now-sore spot on his chest.
“That fucking satisfy you, loser?” Katsuki’s voice was rough yet calmer, the degrading tone still present but in a way that was far more professional and far less sexual. He swung his leg over Izuku, standing easily and grimacing as he used the old workout shirt to wipe up the spit-slicked mess of his armpit. Izuku laid there numbly, still shocked, still shaking as he finally made a move to sit up and watch the blond. Red eyes met green as Katsuki turned, frowning at the other. “Don’t catch a damn boner while sparring with me again, you shitty perv.”
Izuku nodded without hearing the message, blinking rapidly as he came down to earth. Katsuki scoffed, cheeks flush as he threw the t-shirt right into the other’s face at an impressively harsh speed.
“Next week, you better bring that shit back. Got it?” Izuku said nothing, letting the shirt slide off his face and onto his lap, shock still clear yet for an entirely different reason. A question was left unsaid, but Katsuki understood completely. “Same fucking time, yeah. Got it?”
Izuku nodded.
Katsuki considered him for a moment before huffing, nodding back. “Good. Now clean yourself up, pig.” He turned and moved to leave, allowing Izuku to sit with his old shirt, the locker still open, the air smelling of salt and caramel.
Izuku sat for a long while, maybe half an hour before he lifted the shirt to his face and breathed.