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Shouto’s cheeks burn.
Katsuki is—
Katsuki’s making fun of him, and Shouto wasn’t even—
“It’s your fault,” he hisses, face red, a hand still between his thighs because—because, well, he barely got here. He doesn’t feel like giving up yet.
“My fault?” Katsuki repeats. “So you weren’t just being needy?”
“You won’t fuck me,” Shouto says. “I—why won’t you fuck me, Katsuki?”
Katsuki runs a careful hand through his hair, stroking the stands sticking to it off Shouto’s forehead. “You didn’t ask,” he says. “Didn’t think you’d want me to. Didn’t think it was like that. Didn’t want to scare you off or make you think you had to, or whatever.”
“Oh,” says Shouto. “Well. You can. You know, if you want to.”
“That’s real nice, baby,” Katsuki says. “You should let me see first, though.”
Shouto goes whole body tense, ears standing up on top of his head. “I think you saw plenty,” he says, even if keeping his thighs closed most likely isn’t doing as much as he’d like it to with how big the toy stretching his pussy is. Which is why he doesn’t want to take it out in the first place. He worked hard.
Hmph.
Shouto tells Katsuki as much. “I was in the middle of something, you know.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki asks. “You want me to leave, pretty kitty? Pretty sure you’ll get that thing halfway in you before dinner.”
“It’s already halfway in,” Shouto insists, parting his thighs. “See?”
Which—
Is somewhat of a mistake, really, because—that’s what Katsuki wanted, wasn’t it? And now Shouto’s tail is curled around his own thigh, shame making his face burn and burn and burn, fully aware he’s got a purple dildo bigger than his forearm—probably not bigger than Katsuki’s, though—stuck in his pussy.
Like—actually stuck.
“Let’s see here,” Katsuki says, almost in the same tone he had the first time Shouto made a mess of the kitchen trying to open a bag of raw salmon. Then, because he’s really mean and Shouto should have never indulged the thought of having Katsuki’s cock stretching his pussy like this in the first place, he coos, “Oh, big stretch,” at him before rubbing a thumb over his clit, right above where the toy’s still keeping Shouto full and stretched.
“You did not just say that to me,” Shouto huffs. “Take it back.”
But, instead of apologizing, Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of the toy—the knotted part that was probably never going to fit either way, god—and, right after bending down to take Shouto’s clit into his mouth, he starts slowly and carefully tugging it out.
It works, is the thing.
Shouto’s already wet, slick shining on the insides of his thighs. He’s going to have to wash his tail after this. And Katsuki doing something with his tongue that just has more slick leaking out of his pussy around the stretch of the toy, every little lick making him twitch and bite down harder on his bottom lip just so he doesn’t whine fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please oh god.
He does want Katsuki to fuck him. That’s how they got here in the first place.
(Even if under present circumstances Shouto might be compelled to admit that he could have been a little overly enthusiastic when customizing the length and the width on the website before clicking Add to Cart. Maybe. Just a little.)
“There we go,” Katsuki says, finally tugging the toy free. He scoffs at it precisely once before unceremoniously tossing it aside, still wet with Shouto’s slick.
“Hey,” Shouto says. “I paid good money for that.”
“Yeah, my money,” Katsuki points out. “Thought you were being real sneaky, didn’t you?”
Shouto’s ears droop. “I’m not used to taking care of myself,” he admits. “And I haven’t had a heat since you found me, but they get bad, and at least back home they let me have what I needed even if I was alone for them, and—and I didn’t mind, because I thought that’s how it was for everyone, before. But then I met you, and you—you were nice to me and you smelled nice and—and you made me food and you didn’t complain when I wanted to sleep in the same bed as you, that first night, and—and I wanted you to take care of my heats for me, Katsuki. But you wouldn’t even touch me.”
And Katsuki just—
Well. First, he says, “Fuck.” Then, he says, “Oh.” And then he ends on, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Shouto huffs. “Stupid human,” he says, indignation melting off into nothing but a whine when Katsuki presses two fingers inside him, curling them up and smiling knowingly when Shouto’s eyes start to well up with tears.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Katsuki promises, leaning over him. “Made you wait, didn’t I?”
Shouto nods. “I tried so hard,” he says. “And you didn’t even notice.”
Katsuki’s laughter comes out strangely strained. “Oh,” he says. “I noticed.” Then, even more winded, “Where’d you get the lingerie you wore under that one dress, anyway?”
“Momo—ah, Momo gave it to me. She said she couldn’t take it anymore,” Shouto says. “And then she guessed I’d need a B cup.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking wreck you,” Katsuki says. “Sleeping in my bed, bending over in that damn dress, using my credit card to order toys that would break you in half—”
“I’m pretty sure you’re bigger,” Shouto protests. “You, um, feel thicker, at least. From what I’ve noticed in the mornings.”
And—
Katsuki is so close, warm breath tickling Shouto’s cheeks, fucking Shouto with his fingers like he just wants to know how warm and wet he feels inside, because—well, Shouto certainly doesn’t need it. Not right now, at least. (He never wants to need it again, honestly. Wants to always be warm and wet and open for Katsuki to slip into. And then he wouldn’t have to settle for cheap plastic at all.)
“Shouto,” Katsuki says. “Please stop talking for a sec, okay?”
Oh. He said please.
“Will you fuck me then?” Shouto asks.
Katsuki drops his head onto Shouto’s collarbone, lets out a sound a lot like a growl, and then he’s biting down hard enough to leave marks. Maybe he wants to. Maybe that’s what he’s been thinking about while he clutched his spoons hard enough to snap them in half during breakfast with Shouto sat across from him. Having Shouto like this.
That’s—
That’s nice, actually.
Sweet, even.
Shouto strokes Katsuki’s hair. “I really want you to,” he says, just in case Katsuki needs to hear it. “I only ordered something that big to be safe, you know.”
Which—
Turns out to be prudent, actually, because after Katsuki’s done kissing him to shut him up, he presses the head of his cock to Shouto’s pussy, and the slide is—definitely not effortless.
“See?” Shouto says triumphantly. “I was right.”
But Katsuki only cups his cheek and says, “I’m not a toy, princess. I’ll make it fit,” before kissing him again.
And he does. Just like that. Kissing Shouto all over and stroking his back and calling him pretty and perfect and goddamn fucking wonderful while he eases more of his cock inside, bit by bit, until he’s all the way in and Shouto can see a little bulge poking through his belly.
“Oh,” he says, very softly.
Katsuki’s gaze follows Shouto’s. “Fuck,” he says, all awed while he presses his hand over it. “Look at you.”
“No,” Shouto says petulantly. “You’re the one supposed to look.”
“Just look?” Katsuki teases.
Shouto shakes his head. “And keep me forever,” he says. “Should get me a collar so everyone knows who I belong to.”
“Sure,” Katsuki says, keeping a hand on the back of Shouto’s thigh while he pulls back just to fuck into him, and Shouto’s full and Katsuki is touching him and it’s all just—good. Really, really good. “Anything you want.”
(And as far as what Shouto wants, it’s mostly Katsuki, honestly. Like this, but also just—pressed close on the couch and holding his hand in a crowded room and calling Shouto my pretty kitty with his eyes all soft.
Maybe—
Maybe some more sushi grade salmon too. It couldn’t hurt. Shouto’s definitely going to need to build his strength back up after this. It was a pretty big stretch, after all.)