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Eijirou wants Katsuki to fuck him. Their relationship evolves into this dizzying romance—unconventional, loud, and intoxicating all the same. There’s intimacy now, in the time they spend together—but they're not close enough, and Eijirou wants him.
He sees Katsuki like he's never gotten to. Little moments that reflect him in angles that Eijirou’s only suspected he has. The pensive Katsuki that wades through his day, his routine in calculated and contemplative actions.
He’s learned to read Katsuki's face, to use his expressions to make sense of that deceptively volatile mind, and he loves him. He loves being a part of his day; he loves simply looking, smiling at Katsuki as he glares toward his own selection of black and dark-colored clothing, deciding which nearly identical articles to put on.
A subtle product of infatuation: Eijirou lying on Katsuki's bed and watching Katsuki make his choice and just thinking about it, overthinking where the rising sun chooses to pool in the harsh divots of his moving muscles, the same ones Eijirou himself traces just as gracefully, and overthinking this Katsuki who just finished sleeping with him. How he's up now, but moments ago he was dead to the world, heart-achingly warm and soft in Eijirou’s arms.
How he puts on his furrowed brow and pouty lips and disgruntled aura the same way he pulls a black shirt (again, indistinguishable from all the others) over his unkempt hair and perfect torso, the way his face pops out of the collar, how he feels Eijirou watching and meets his eye and blushes, turning on his heel with a 'tch.'
How, of course, there's necessity in these mundanities, yet it's so interesting to watch Katsuki observe them—his boyfriend with the larger-than-life personality, just casually living it—and Eijirou loves him.
He sees Katsuki in these totally regular moments and lately he can't help but wonder about his other facets. About his base ones, the instinctual ones, the ones that might want Eijirou as much as Eijirou wants him.
How would Katsuki act if Eijirou didn't carefully put a stop to things each time they came together and the pull found them? Would he be rough and domineering, like how he fights? Would he be thoughtful and observant, like how he goes about his day?
Would he be soft and mindless, like how he rests and recharges curled up next to him?
Would he be some heart-stopping combination of the three?
Eijirou thinks about his own fears, apprehensions, and insecurities. He thinks about his body, but then he thinks about Katsuki's body. He thinks about the way Katsuki thinks about him, he thinks about Katsuki and he wants him.
Much later in the day, a day spent thinking and watching and longing, Eijirou’s head thumps into Katsuki's pillow and only the delicate tug of nightfall and the feeling of his boyfriend’s strong, heavy arms over his waist finally have him thinking much less.
Katsuki snuggles into him like he belongs there, and he deflates into it.
Just hours ago, Eijirou watched him decimate an entire row of concrete barriers using a single pinpoint blast, watched him embody destruction, and now he's curled up behind him, sighing softly across his neck, those same hands tender and limp over his bare stomach.
Katsuki places a kiss right below his ear, at the joint of his jaw, mutters his affection, and Eijirou doesn’t stand up to the pressure.
It’s gotta be noticeable, the way he melts and lays back into him, molding to the shape of him, getting as close as he can. Katsuki must notice because he presses his face into Eijirou’s shoulder, and Eijirou can feel him smiling.
They don't speak acknowledging each other here: Katsuki's arm tightens over his chest, Eijirou moves to squeeze the hand over his heart, and they both sigh, peace palpable.
Eijirou thinks this is how they'll fall asleep because they have this way before, because it's the absolute best way to fall asleep, but Katsuki keeps kissing him. He strokes his thumb over Eijirou’s chest, tendons shifting under his own hand, and bathes him in the feeling. He grumbles low in the back of his throat—like a purr, and strange if it were anyone besides Katsuki making such a sound—and clasps his limbs around Eijirou in a fashion that could only be described as protective.
"What’s up with you?" Eijirou asks, mostly because Katsuki should be extra sleepy by now.
"Like you."
"Yeah?" He bends his neck a little, allows Katsuki. "Said something like that already."
"Hmm." He pauses, lips grazing skin. "Really like you."
"I’m swooning." (He is.)
"Asshole," Katsuki says. His mouth stays fixed to his neck and Eijirou can feel his own heart shift, thumping hard, calling out. He presses behind him, carefully insists; he sucks at him, breathing deliberately, and Eijirou can only gasp about it.
Here might be where a different person would sweet-talk, but Katsuki says everything he needs to with mere contact, and Eijirou responds kindly—with shivers and hitched breaths. Katsuki licks over his goosebumps, sucks light red impressions into his tanned skin, loves on him, and Eijirou feels his entire body respond.
He holds onto Katsuki's hand for dear life, and Katsuki nuzzles him for it.
"You’re hard," Eijirou says, a rumble in his chest.
Katsuki just kind of freezes, grunts about it, and moves his hips away, and–
No, wait –
Slowly, he shifts his leg back between Katsuki's. He leans back to match, follows him, presses his ass to Katsuki's hips.
God, he's warm.
"It’s okay," he feels himself saying.
"Yeah?" Katsuki responds, so close, and wow, he sounds kind of really good turned on.
Katsuki's...big, up against him. Eijirou’s thought about it, but it's completely different feeling the proof lie unbelievably solid and stiff at his tailbone, the cleft of his covered ass. His cock is…huh. Must be long, because –
"Yeah," Eijirou assures, shifting his hips, grinding back, feeling him out. Katsuki's breath whooshes out of him, a disbelieving sound, and Eijirou’s heart pounds at having caught him off-guard.
It’s invigorating.
He continues these small movements, coming to terms with Katsuki's dick, and then that strong hand is trailing down Eijirou’s body, over his hip, cupping an ass cheek over his boxers, kneading the muscle.
Shit.
It’s intense, it's reverent, it's –
"Eijirou," Katsuki drones, gulping, "can I touch you?"
Eijirou seizes up immediately, thoughts static, and Katsuki notices. He freezes, too, breathing hard, but…it's okay.
It’s more than okay.
This is right, Eijirou knows, this is good. Fuck, this is good.
He gives a shaky exhale and reaches for Katsuki's wrist. He places his palm over his hip, his waistband, strokes his fingers. He pulls gently, guides him until he feels the pads of his fingers dip below his waistband, and he lets him go.
Katsuki goes after his sex quickly, eager. A single finger parts his lips and trails up them, wet and firm, and Eijirou’s skin burns. He's never been this wet, ever, but he's been lying here, clenching and squirming over and over, and now the proof is on Katsuki's fingers, in the way he sighs over his shoulder, in the way he shifts and growls into his ear.
He finds his dick, slick and swollen and peeking from his lips.
"Fuck," Katsuki hisses, strained, "so fucking hot."
"H-hot?"
He strokes him, makes him jolt, and moans in his ear like he can't find the words, humps against him like he can't help it, and Eijirou’s heart threatens to crack his own sternum.
He must feel the shock in his system. "Sorry, I'm–" Katsuki mutters, rushed. "Fuck, this is so good–"
"Yeah," Eijirou agrees, rutting against his fingers, between them, indulging himself.
Katsuki matches his hips. "Want to make you come. Haven’t before—wanna feel you come."
And Eijirou’s nervous, sure, but he doesn’t feel like Katsuki should feel like he has to explain himself, like his body wasn't already his. Like yes he was scared, but this is...
"Katsuki," he says, voice deep and affectionate. "Take out your—fuck—take out your cock..."
Katsuki pauses for just a second, absorbing the words, and has his boxers off before Eijirou can think twice. He’s got his hands on Eijirou’s boxers, tugging down, mind on a mission.
He tries to climb on top of Eijirou.
"No, no, not like–" he gasps, staying rooted on his side, looking at him. He kisses his cheek, and then faces away. "Like this, like before, naked is fine, but stay—stay–"
"Shit, shit, sorry, I–" Katsuki settles back behind him. "Fuck."
"It’s okay, just..."
Eijirou breathes, closes his eyes, and takes a moment. He wants to face Katsuki, he does, but something about the energy of this, something about Katsuki at his back...
"Like this for now, yeah?"
And then he's relaxing again, fitting to the shape of him, because this is okay. Katsuki wraps himself over his back again, kissing into his shoulder, the crook of his neck, and Eijirou sighs. His dick is hard at his ass again, but now it's hot and smooth, naked, tentative, and Eijirou wants him.
He raises his leg, cants his hips back against Katsuki's hesitation, slides his hand down over his own sex and finds Katsuki's cock solid between his legs. He strokes him a few times, steady, feeling the vibration of Katsuki's hums through his chest and down his spine.
Then, he's guiding his long, weeping cock over his cunt, between his lips, and allowing Katsuki to rut there.
"Fuuuck," Katsuki moans in one big, immensely relieved breath, gripping tight onto his hip.
He slides against his sex with ease, getting himself nice and wet, Eijirou’s fingers there to guide the blunt tip against his own cock, over and over. It’s heady and dirty and so, so good, but Eijirou wants –
Katsuki's hand finds his, gently prying it away, moving to press his cock there himself. Eijirou groans, lets go, buries his face into the pillow and allows himself to feel.
It’s obscene. Katsuki's heavy arm drapes over his side, fingers at their dicks, sliding between his folds, sticky and sweet. Katsuki pants with each of his measured thrusts, holds himself down harder, fucks against Eijirou’s dick, and gets his pre all over him.
"Katsuki," Eijirou calls out, rough, "Katsuki –"
"Shit," Katsuki cuts between breaths, "can you come like this?"
He doesn't wait for an answer when he speeds up, leaning in more, thrusting little further up. His rock-hard cock is a constant presence over Eijirou’s little swollen one, the friction beyond good, and fuck, Eijirou’s kind of obsessed with the idea of Katsuki's cock fucking over his, dizzy at the notion of coming on him like this.
There’s this sticky little schlick sound at every pass Katsuki makes, holding himself firm to Eijirou’s cunt, twitching against him, panting in his ear. It’s so lewd, Katsuki taking what he can.
Eijirou bites his lip hard when he comes, writhing, lying back, no doubt making some sort of embarrassing noise beyond the cotton in his ears.
"So hot," he registers Katsuki telling him as he slows. “Fuck, you're so good. Ohhh shit," he mutters, driven by instinct, "you're gushing, Eijirou. Fuck, you're gushing for me."
"W-want you,” Eijirou pants, deflating. Utterly breathless, he closes his legs, squeezing that hard cock up against him, using his body to stroke it. "Want you bad."
"Eijirou," Katsuki all but growls, and it’s reminiscent of a warning. "God, you make me wanna–"
"I want it, Katsuki," he interrupts. His hand finds Katsuki's, lingering near the top of his thighs, and pushes it away.
He spreads his legs, blushing at how truly slick things have gotten down there, and grabs Katsuki's cock.
"Just a little, okay?"
"Fuck," Katsuki grunts, bending his head back, away, "please. Yeah, just–"
And then Eijirou’s scooting some, positioning himself somewhat awkwardly so that the head of Katsuki's cock lines up with his slick, clenching hole.
Fuck. His stomach swoops.
Katsuki moves his own hips—just a little, just so the tip slides inside—and Eijirou’s heart melts, burns, leaks into his organs.
Fuck. It feels so good.
"Oh god," Eijirou manages, reaching back to pull on Katsuki's hair behind him, mouth agape.
"Tight," Katsuki urges, "fuck, so tight. You’re squeezing me out." He gives a low chuckle, awed.
He's right, though—Katsuki pushes just his fat, eager cockhead in, again and again, getting sucked in, a shallow twitch of his hips—just to be pushed back out again by Eijirou’s clenching, his need to feel Katsuki carved into his insides.
He’s milking him like this—his sensitive, leaking cockhead.
"Did you bring a condom?" Katsuki breathes. "This is—fuck, you're so wet, I could just–"
And then suddenly there's a little more, just another inch, something a little more substantial. It’s where his cock gets slightly girthier, and it's carefully sliding in and out of him. Stars burst in the corners of Eijirou’s eyes, his own cock throbbing at the feeling, guts wringing over the intrusion.
"Just—be careful," Eijirou says, and it's a weird sentiment. Despite the heaviness in his chest, it feels too good, and he just wants more.
Fuck, he wants Katsuki's all.
His heart races, trips, stutters where Katsuki keeps up these calculated thrusts, what must be a little less than half of his dick spearing Eijirou’s cunt repeatedly. The short bit he's allowed them still strikes live fire up through Eijirou, curls his toes, massages his insides and makes him throb.
And he can't see Katsuki, but the noises he's making are nearly as mind-numbing as the sweet cock pushing into him, holding back, and god, Eijirou’s so in love.
He relinquishes Katsuki's hair and drags the hand down his own torso, down his body, between his lips, feeling where Katsuki's dipping in and out of him.
God, part of him wants Katsuki to...to...
His weak train of thought is broken when he feels Katsuki's hand slide between their bodies—under Eijirou’s ass to reach and stroke at the length of his cock that's not sheathed in his warmth.
It won't do.
Eijirou bends his hips back more (and yeah the angle's weird but fuck if it doesn't just emphasize the shape of Katsuki's cock inside him) and lets Katsuki slip deeper, deeper, and deeper, still, until Eijirou’s shaky fingers can feel soft and fuzzy balls flush up against his swollen sex.
Katsuki doesn't say anything. There’s these little boyish rumbles from his chest that sound overwhelmed, but he doesn't say anything yet.
Instead, he grabs Eijirou under his knee, slides his leg up to his inner elbow, and fucks into him.
"Fuck." Katsuki swallows. "Hah–"
He grinds once, twice, making this noise akin to a whimper that has Eijirou’s brain breaking. Then, his mouth is at his ear. "Taking me so well. So well."
"Mmn, feel good?"
"S'good," he pants, "S'perfect, it's you…"
Besides Eijirou’s senses gradually being fucked out of him, Katsuki's speaking so low and so slurred that his words sink in late, delayed, unreal. He feels Katsuki scoot down the bed some, angling to thrust up into him, producing this consistent smack-smack-smack sound that has Eijirou drooling, and god, Eijirou is his.
"Yeah, knew you wanted it..." Katsuki tells him, and there's still this ever-present anxiety, a thrilling contrast to the feeling of the act itself, but it's Katsuki—it's Katsuki, and he—"Wanted you, too."
Could he just say things to him forever? Eijirou swears he could drown in the drip of his honey-bass tongue, could block out the whole world with the weight of his words.
"Katsuki..."
And Katsuki slows, holding Eijirou’s leg and driving him down onto his cock the best he can. Once he's essentially just rolling into him, he lets go, reaching to slip his fingers down between Eijirou’s parted folds and rubs sweet circles around his dick.
"Fuck, that's–" Eijirou breathes. He feels Katsuki's cock kiss the peak of his insides, pressing in, stroking there. "Oh, that's love, Katsuki–"
"Fuck yeah, it is."
He speeds up—both his fingers and his cock—and god, Eijirou’s there. He’s all molten lava, pooling and coursing throughout, and he's there.
"Katsuki–"
"Yeah."
"Katsuki–"
"Mmn, that's it. Yeah, c'mon–"
"Katsuki—!"
Eijirou feels all of him spark alight at each point of contact, feels his eyes strain where they roll back, feels his brain collapse in on itself. Fuck, Katsuki rubs him through it, rough fingers consistent over slippery, sensitive flesh, and oh, it's too much.
Katsuki removes his hand soon after, but doesn't stop fucking into him, speeding up. Eijirou knows he's even tighter now, and Katsuki makes it not three more thrusts until –
"Fuck, fuck—oh shit—!"
He must have been blindsided, because there's warmth—profuse and fluid—blooming up into Eijirou, matching the state of his brain, his heart.
Katsuki's cock pulses inside him once, twice, three times, almost to the hilt, and the way the underside of it squeezes out his love will forever be something burned into Eijirou’s memory.
Then, as quickly as he can, Katsuki's pulling out, finishing his orgasm over Eijirou’s sticky lips, lashing it up over his oversensitive cock.
"Oh fuck, oh, Eijirou, shit–" he grumbles, "I'm so fucking sorry, I–"
It's then that Eijirou finally turns around, taking Katsuki's flushed and squishy face into his hands and kissing all over it, ending with a long, intense kiss over his mouth.
"It's okay."
"It's okay?"
"I mean," he shrugs half-heartedly, "I'm terrified, but it's okay."
Katsuki’s breathing is too shallow, so Eijirou kisses his cheek, shushing him. "No skin off my nose, man."
"What?! I just—you–"
"Hey." He looks him in the eye—very close, very serious. "I have you. It’s you. It’s okay. Plus," he smiles, "they make pills for this, and you can totally buy me one."
Katsuki pouts, squints, but nods.
"Also,” He ventures, biting his lip, "it felt really fucking good."
Katsuki smirks. "It felt so fucking good."
"Right?" Eijirou blushes, beams, buries his face in Katsuki's sweaty pecs. "You know I'm in love with you, yeah?"
Katsuki grumbles something in return, something sweet, pulls Eijirou close, and doesn't let go.