Chapter Text
When two pro heroes decide to hook up, it can bring about all kinds of conversations. Quirk usage is one; it’s no secret that many heroes have a kink for certain quirk types. Another are safewords; necessary due to varying power levels and unfair advantages. Even if not in a Dom/sub relationship, these sorts of talks are imperative to make sex work.
Another common one that Izuku shouldn’t have been surprised to hear about is the rule of levels. Especially between men who enjoyed topping and switching, it was a solid way for the one bottoming in the moment to decide how rough the top could be, particularly during anal sex.
That’s how Izuku finds himself sitting seiza-style on the floor, frowning up at Katsuki, who’s taking up a kingly residence on his couch. This man, thinks Izuku, is a lot sometimes. But then, that’s one reason Izuku loves him so much.
Not that he can tell Katsuki so.
“Okay,” says Izuku slowly. “So… you want to have sex.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “That a problem?”
Izuku shakes his head, trying not to be too vehement. That can come across as eager, and he’s leery of turning off Katsuki before they can even start. “Just trying to wrap my head around it. I mean… I don’t even know if you can call us friends.”
“That’s why it works,” points out Katsuki with his bare modicum of calm. “No one would ever expect us to hook up, so we can be discrete and get off without having to trouble anyone and without compromising our hero endeavors.”
It’s true enough, Izuku supposes. Still, he wishes it could be because, well, Katsuki likes him.
Dream on, nerd.
Suppressing a sigh, Izuku places his hands on his knees. “Okay. That’s fair. It’s not like either of us are looking to date or anything.”
“Hell no.” Katsuki actually sounds disgusted, and it takes all of Izuku’s presence of mind to not flinch. “Ain’t got time for bullshit. But we’re both gonna get pent up and our hands can only get us so far.”
Izuku rubs his forehead. “You make it sound so appealing. Can you even get it up for me?”
Katsuki squints down at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Okay. Best to avoid that subject for now.
Coughing, Izuku changes the subject. “That aside, I’m not sure what you mean by a rule of levels.”
Katsuki grimaces. “Well, we established that we both can top and bottom. So we’ll switch, whatever. But we’re both strong.”
“Yeah.”
“And we’re somewhat equally matched.”
Izuku will let him have that one without arguing; that’s whatever. “Yeah.”
“And you have no self-control.”
“Yea—hey!”
Katsuki smirks. “Either way, the one taking it is the one who’s going to feel it most. Our bodies are essential in our line of work.”
Still bristling, Izuku says, “I have plenty self-control!”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Kacchan!”
“Look, nerd.” Katsuki leans forward, and it’s unfair, because he’s just so… hot. Pale faded jeans, loose black tank top that does nothing to hide his perfect pecs, and lines of taut muscle crisscrossing at every wonderful angle possible. Izuku has to swallow to keep his saliva in check. “It’s stupid fucking simple, and you’re not an idiot. Whoever bottoms has a level tolerance of one through five. One being disgustingly gentle, five being One For All one hundred percent slam-into-my-ass-until-I’m-unconscious energy. Got it?”
Izuku quickly stands and paces to the kitchen in an effort to hide his blush. Does… does Kacchan… want me to rail him…? Like that hard? He’s masturbated to it, sure, but…
He quickly sets to making tea. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense. I just… I don’t know, shouldn’t there be other stipulations?”
“Like what?”
Izuku sets the electric kettle on to boiling and finds a couple mugs. “Like… let’s say one of us does want a level of one. Shouldn’t we like…” God, he hates what he’s about to say; it feels like a death knell to his emotions. “... I don’t know, ban kissing or something?”
Silence. He can’t help turning to look at Katsuki, who’s half-draped over the back of the couch with an incredulous look on his face.
Self-conscious, Izuku says, “What?”
Katsuki’s mouth twitches. Oh, great. He wants to laugh. “So, Deku,” says Katsuki, unable to hide the snicker in his tone, “you want to set Pretty Woman rules?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“Whatever.” Katsuki smirks in full. “I don’t care either way.”
“Well, I don’t either!”
“Fine.”
“Okay!”
Katsuki’s still grinning, his red eyes glinting with amusement that crawls deep under Izuku’s skin. The kettle begins to hiss, so he turns back to it and fills the mugs. When he brings one to Katsuki, the guy at least has the grace to take it without further comment.
Kacchan’s matured, but he’s not above making fun of me. Jerk.
In the end, it makes sense, Izuku supposes. Anyone with half a brain would grow up some between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. Still… Kacchan will always be Kacchan.
This time, Izuku sits himself on the other side of the couch. It’s still awkward, but apparently only on his end. Katsuki merely blows on his tea before taking a sip. Sometimes Izuku’s envious of his ability to drink something scalding. In contrast, Izuku finds a coaster and sets his mug down to cool off for a few minutes.
“I’m being serious, though,” he finally says. “If either of us have limits, we should talk it out now. We could have like… kinks or something that the other person’s not into.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow over his mug. “Why, you into scat or piss or something?”
“No.” Izuku sighs. “But… I don’t know, pain’s fine. Sometimes. Drawing blood doesn’t bother me as long as I can cover it up.”
At last, Katsuki seems to take him seriously. He sets his mug down on a coaster as well. “Nothing around my throat. I hate gagging, too.”
Well, there goes one fantasy. At least it’s not frequent in Izuku’s spank bank. “I’m fine with either, just… you know, don’t let me pass out.”
Katsuki snorts. “That’s shit for your brain anyway. Not that you need it.”
“Oh, and you can afford it with all your concussions,” shoots back Izuku.
“Fuck off.”
“You first.”
Katsuki covers his mouth and leans his elbow onto his knee. Izuku’s come to recognize it as a way of hiding amusement. At least he can make Kacchan laugh. Kind of. Sort of.
“Okay, let’s back off the weirder shit,” Katsuki finally says. He takes a decent sip of tea. “Dirty talk?”
Izuku shrugs. “Fine with it. Not into feminization.”
“Same.”
“Then, how do we decide when and where to… meet up?”
“To fuck?” Izuku hates that he blushes and that it visibly amuses Katsuki. “I figure whoever’s bottoming should be hosting, since they’re the one who’s going to need the aftercare or whatever.”
That makes sense. “In that case, the one bottoming should be the one to set the schedule.”
Katsuki’s eyebrows knot. “You wanna set a fuckin’ schedule?”
Izuku shakes his head. “No, I mean… let’s say I’m gonna bottom. If I’m in the mood and I have the next day off, I’ll invite you over. If you say no, no harm, no foul, you know?”
A vaguely impressed look flickers across Katsuki’s face. Then it goes back to his semi-permanent scowl and he shrugs. “Eh. Good enough.”
Geez, Kacchan was still stingy with compliments.
“Anything else?” asks Katsuki.
Izuku considers for a moment. Nothing major comes to mind—if certain things they crossed off are too extreme, it follows that others would be, too. That’s just the sort of person Kacchan is.
“I don’t think so,” he finally says.
“Fine.” Katsuki stands, finishing his drink in a few large gulps. “Goin’ home. If you want me to rail you, you know what to do.”
Izuku wants to say, Well, same! But the words stick in his throat. He just sits there, a weird mixture of happy, dejected, horny, and flat.
This should be the ideal situation. Katsuki wants to fuck. That’s more than Izuku had ever hoped for.
At the same time… it’s so empty. He feels strangely objectified, even though he agreed to it every step of the way.
He knows if he messages Kacchan now, calls it off, that he might get yelled at, but that’s it. Katsuki would back off and never bring it up again. Things could go back to normal.
And, he realizes while gripping his mug in shaking hands, that scares him. He doesn’t want things to stay the status quo. This could hurt so horribly in the end… but isn’t it better to have something over nothing at all? Isn’t casual sex better than bored ships passing in the night? (Is that even the right way to use the metaphor? His head aches too much to look it up.)
Izuku winces as hot tea spills onto his hands. “Damn it…” He can’t even rebuke himself, too confused by the entire exchange to do more than get up and find a towel.
He never imagined this would happen. That Katsuki would just show up one day and say, “We should fuck, let’s talk.” That the heart-rendering in Izuku’s chest would be replaced with confusion and shock. When Katsuki said those words, Izuku had… well, he’d expected Katsuki to jump him right there in the doorway. (Yeah, that’s another fantasy. Ugh. Sometimes he disgusts himself. That’s so rude to the neighbors…)
Izuku dumps the rest of his tea and cleans up. He’s happy. He’s sad. He’s excited. He feels like he should just punch himself in the balls until his stupid libido goes away forever and he can stop being an idiot.
Right now, the correct course of action is to text Kacchan, tell him that after some thinking, he can’t do it after all. Call it off. Reset back to bland, null, nothing.
Unfortunately, Izuku thinks as he bitterly scrubs Katsuki’s mug, he’s not exactly known for making all the right calls.