Work Text:
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Fuck it.
Katsuki has always wanted to get his nose pierced, so why not?
Stepping over the still unpacked boxes in his room, he makes his way over to the messy bed and flops down on his back with a huff. There isn't much to unpack considering he arrived with less than a trunk load of belongings, but the mid-July heat and lack of even a fan has all but squashed his motivation to keep sorting through his shit. The mess of clothes and camping gear strew across the room makes his eyelid twitch, but until he can figure out a way to not die of fucking heat exhaustion inside of his house, it is what it is.
It isn't like he's going to be here for very long anyway.
Scoffing at the mess, he plucks his phone off of the makeshift cardboard nightstand. Katsuki can't remember the name of the shop if his life depended on it, so he opens up maps and zooms out from the blue dot showing he was at "home". He spotted the small neon sign in the window while jogging two weeks ago so he just retraces his steps until he catches the familiar exterior of the building on street view.
Hero Ink.
What kind of fucking name is that?
Whatever, not like the rural mountain town had a wide variety of tattoo studios to choose from. Frankly, he was surprised to see one at all given the people he had interacted with in the community thus far— definitely on the older, more conservative side. He was sure he would have to make the two hour trek into the city to find a reputable shop, but from everything he saw online during his brief scroll, this place was decent enough and clean.
Katsuki rolls over so he's lying on his stomach and swipes out of the app to pull up their website, tapping on the 'contact us!' tab. There's no online scheduling option, so he elects to shoot them an email instead so he can hear back after the weekend. He taps out a quick message, just saying hello and asking to come in to get his septum pierced whenever they have the time this week or next.
Sent.
Excitement buzzes under his skin and gives him a bump of motivation to get back up and at least finish getting all of his shit out of the car.
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His first day at the new job passes in an overwhelming blur of new people, places, tech, and, much to his dismay, math. What the fuck do you mean I have to break inches into tenths? Isn't that just the metric system with extra steps?? But he keeps these thoughts to himself and nods along as the head surveyor, Jeanist, goes over everything. It's a construction gig, so the men are crude, but overall friendly, only taking light jabs at him for being so young. He's responding to "kid" by the end of the day after hearing it so much.
By the time he gets home, he's spent. Sweat and dirt cling to his skin from head to toe, he has to practically peel his jeans off of his legs. Not that he isn't accustomed to the layer of dirt after spending the last four years earning his degree and doing field work, geology is not a tidy field. Katsuki strides through the house in only his boxers given that his roommate is out of town until Wednesday. He hasn't even met the guy yet, but from their message exchanges, Iida seems nice enough. Maybe a bit too trusting letting a stranger stay in his home without ever meeting him, but Katsuki is smart enough to not look a gift shark in the mouth and simply thanked him.
Once all of the grime has been scrubbed off of his skin, he flops down unto his bed unceremoniously and reaches for his phone so he can play some music while he eats. There was no cell reception at his worksite today, nor did he have time to check anyway, so he just left his phone in his truck all day. Nothing important. A text from his parents wishing him luck on his first day, some on boarding emails, an onslaught of messages in the group chat with his friends, a text from his roommate that he's yet to meet — Aha!
The owner of the tattoo shop had gotten back to him.
@HERO-INK: Thanks for reaching out! I'd love to have you come in later this week— how does Saturday around 1pm sound? :)
Fuck yeah.
@KATSUKII-1998: Sounds good, I'll see you then.
A smile pulls at his lips, excited for the continuation of change in his life. It's only a piercing, but to him it's further spreading his wings and being himself. Twenty-two, three thousand miles from everyone and everything he knows, working in his field, and now he has the freedom to express himself in ways that were heavily shunned by his parents; so many new doors have opened up for him in so little time. His family wasn't incredibly restrictive, but they had an image of who he's supposed to be in their heads that Katsuki never quite fit— too loud, too abrasive, too strange. If it didn't fit into the mannequin shell that his parents made for him, it was a mistake— a septum ring being one of them. His mother let the other nose ring slide because it was just a small silver hoop, barely noticeable, same with the few tattoos he's gotten in the last few years (mainly because she could only ever see one of them).
He doesn't have to live there anymore between semesters, so her 'while you're still living under my roof' bullshit is no longer relevant. First item on the docket is getting this piercing he's wanted for years. Well, get re-pierced. He had it done in college and forgot to flip it up when he went home for the holidays, to say his mom took it fucking horribly would be the understatement of the century. With the same decibel reading of a goddamn jet engine, she told him it was his choice: take it out or live in his car. As a college student taking twenty-four credits per semester, working full time, and maintaining his deans list status, he didn't really have any choice.
But that was then, this is now.
Just a few more days of work, then he can feel happier in his skin again.
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After a grueling work week in the arid mountain sun, Katsuki is overwhelmed with relief when the weekend arrives. He still wakes early on Saturday, not his new normal of four-thirty, but early enough to catch the end of the sunrise crawling over the mountains. He grabs coffee and a breakfast sandwich from a small cafe shack a block down the road and takes a slow walk through town. He hasn't had much time between working, unpacking, and sleeping to check out his new neighborhood.
He kills time before his appointment walking by the river and looking at the rocky peaks that surround the town. There's several antique shops and thrift stores that he rummages through and even a really good barbecue spot that he stops at right before he walks over.
The dry heat begins to creep in by the time he makes it to the shop and he's grateful he decided on loose black shorts and an old, sleeveless band t-shirt. His nerves buzz in anticipation, eager to see his face back to how he wants it but slightly dreading the gauged needle going through the sensitive flesh in his nose again. Not unbearably painful, but it's still unpleasant to get stabbed. Worth it, he thinks as he shakes out his body at the shops door.
Katsuki gently taps his knuckles off of the red door twice and walks in. The studio is small but utilizes the space well. Framed tattoo designs, paintings, and awards decorate the black walls from the ceiling down to the checkered tile floor. There's only one chair in the room for clients to sit and a rolling stool for the artist, next to it is a small work bench where Katsuki can see the still wrapped needle and horseshoe piercing waiting for him.
"Hey!", a chipper voice pulls Katsuki's attention.
He turns to see a tall, thick man looking at him with a welcoming smile. The first thing he notices is his striking eyes, deep green like the canopy of an old forest with almost matching curls, unruly and just a few shades darker. Several silver strands streak through his hair near his temples and freckles dust his tanned complexion aside from where a jagged scar runs down his cheek. Katsuki feels his heart rate pick up against his will and he can't stop his eyes from wandering down his frame. A fitted tank top hugs his broad, muscular shoulders and exposed the toned expanse of his arms— and God, the tattoos. It seems like miles of them wrap around his body, from flowers to skulls and characters from various forms of media— what tattoos is he hiding under his clothes? Katsuki has to look away hastily before Izuku catches him drooling.
It would be a bold faced lie to say this man wasn't exactly his type.
"Hi," Katsuki manages to stammer out, "I'm here for the septum piercing, not sure if you were who emailed me?"
"Katsuki, right?", he asks, smile never faltering.
He nods, "that would be me."
"Glad to meet you— please, take a seat. I just need a few more minutes to get myself together," he gestures towards the chair in the center of the room and Katsuki takes note of the numbers tattooed across the tops of his fingers—1986.
The blush on his cheeks spreads up to his ears, and he's older?
How much hotter could this guy be??
"Oh!", the piercer chirps, "my name is Izuku by the way, sorry to be so rude. I tend to get a bit scatter brained about everything else when I'm focused on work."
Izuku, huh?
"No worries," Katsuki sits on the leather tattoo bench and tries to will the redness away from his face.
Izuku practically floats around the studio, practiced and familiar hands grabbing supplies without needing to look and organizing them on the tray beside Katsuki. Viridian eyes are narrowed with concentration as he takes the needle out of its plastic wrapping and plush lips move slightly as he mumbles to himself through the process.
Cute.
"Alright, ready?", he asks a bit too gleefully for someone about to stab a needle through his nose.
"As I'll ever be."
"Okay," Izuku chuckles, "lie down for me."
Katsuki follows his instructions and leans back onto the chair. Izuku sits on his stool next to him and reaches under the bench to recline him further until he's parallel to the floor. The piercer's thigh bounces rhythmically to the music inches from his head and it takes all of his will power to not stare at the mesmerizing way his muscular legs look when they move.
"Perfect," he smiles, "comfortable enough?"
It almost hurts to look the older man in the eye, but Katsuki manages a nod.
Izuku hums in response and reaches for something out of his sight on the table. Katsuki can't help but squirm and sweat under the bright light above his head. Is it hot in here? Maybe I'm just nervous…about the piercing, obviously. He crosses his legs, then uncrosses them only to switch which ankle is on top, clammy hands balling into fists on his torso.
"This is the worst part unfortunately," Izuku sighs and pulls the clamp into view. "Only lasts a second though, right? You've had this done before though, I know you'll sit good for me."
Exhaling slowly, Katsuki tilts his head up to give better access and winces only slightly when the metal pinches the sensitive interior of his nose. "There you go…I'm sorry, I know its uncomfortable but you're doing so well," Izuku soothes, "promise I'll be quick."
The praise makes something in his chest keen and rushes heat to his already red face. He blames his pink cheeks on the discomfort from the clamp. Izuku looms over him, emerald eyes looking down at him in heavy concentration, lips parted ever so slightly and giving Katsuki a peek at his teeth biting onto the tip of his tongue. Latex covered hands find their way to his cheeks and hold his head still while he slides his chair to sit at the head of the tattoo bench, Katsuki has to look up through his lashes to see him clearly in his new position until he leans back down.
Katsuki feels like a moth, pinned to a board meticulously.
"Alright, time for the poke. Breathe in for me… and exhale…"
Pop!
Yeah, yup— definitely still hurts.
"Almost done, just keeping being good for me…"
Katsuki feels the clamp finally come undone. However, the relief is short lived as the metal jewelry is threaded through the new hole in his septum, making him hiss at the discomfort. Though its a welcome distraction from the slew of praises Izuku keeps cooing at him— he should not be this turned on while getting stabbed. A moment later, the movement stops and he wiggles his nose and blinks away the reflexive tears that have accumulated on his lash line from the sensitive skin being pierced.
Izuku rests his hand on his cheek, warmth spreading through his still gloved hands to Katsuki's already heated skin, "beautiful…wanna take a look?"
Katsuki ignores the flutter in his chest and heat rolling down to his core, "y-yeah."
A mirror is slid into his hands as Izuku adjust the seat to have him upright again. He takes a moment to study his reflection, turning his head slightly from side to side; the silver horseshoe sits perfectly in the sweet spot, unlike the last time where it nipped his cartridge. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips, showcasing his sharp, white teeth in the mirror, "I love it, didn't hurt as bad as last time either."
"Fantastic! I'm so happy you like it, and that it was less painful for you", Izuku slides the gloves off. "Do you need water or anything? Lightheaded at all?"
The blond shakes his head, "no, thank you though." Katsuki swings his legs over the side of the chair and stands, grabbing his phone and earbuds off of the coffee table by the door a few steps away. "Clean with saline spray three times a day, don't touch it, and should be good in a few weeks, yeah?"
"Exactly right," Izuku's eyes crease with another warm smile. "You did a great job, hardly even a flinch when the needle went through!"
Normally Katsuki would find his tone belittling or demeaning. Of course he sat well, it's just a needle, and not the first one that's taken out an eighteen gauge chunk of flesh or deposited ink under his skin. But the words being said in Izuku's velvety, deep voice while his eyes hold him in place…he would be lying to say he wasn't loving every word of praise.
I need to get the hell out of here.
"Thank you, Izuku," he takes a step towards the door.
"My pleasure," his eyes never leaving Katsuki's, "come back anytime!"
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Several days pass and Katsuki can't get the piercer out of his head, especially considering he thinks about him every time he cleans the fresh wound or catches a glimpse of the metal hoop in his reflection. He thinks about Izuku every time he accidentally bumps his nose and it pain shoots through the tender feature. It's embarrassing, being so infatuated with a guy he emailed once and spent less than twenty minutes with— it makes him feel like a too horny college freshman again.
Desperate. Needy.
Work keeps him plenty busy though. Iida has also been incredibly kind, showing him a few good spots to float down the river and introducing him to his friends in town so he's at least had a distraction from the man with emeralds for eyes and constellations of freckles. But at night, his mind, and hands, start to wander.
It's all a fantasy of course, but he can't stop thinking about tattooed hands holding him down or wrapping themselves around his throat. Maybe he would praise him for being good again if he sunk to his knees in front of him with an open and eager mouth. Izuku is never gentle with him in these musings, roughly using Katsuki's body for his own benefit—it's exactly what he wants though.
What would he sound like above me? His cock has to be huge— I can just tell… Would he still be smiley and kind? Gentle?
His mind ran wild with ideas of Izuku fucking him every way and position possible. Of course he would never proposition Izuku. Can't. It feels inappropriate to hit on someone he's paid for a service, plus the guy is gorgeous. He would have to jump off of a cliff if he hit on him or gave Izuku his number only to be told he's married or some shit. A man like that definitely has a partner at home who he makes very happy, lucky fucker.
However, when he gets home Thursday night back into service and checks his phone, he sees an interesting message pop up.
@HERO—INK: Hey! :) Just wanted to check in and see how you're healing up. If you ever need help, you can always meet you at the shop anytime, just shoot me a text (000-000-0000)— also you can feel free to just text me anytime ;)
Katsuki stands frozen in the kitchen, heart racing while reading, then re-reading the message several times to be sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.
Is…is he hitting on me?
This needs to be peer reviewed for feedback.
Katsuki pries his eyes away from his phone and strides into the living room, "Iida, can I ask you something?"
His roommate looks up from his book, marking the page with a dog ear. They aren't particularly close, but close enough to go out drinking after work together and it's not like Katsuki has anyone else to talk to so far from home. "Of course," he says.
Biting the inside of his cheek and showing Iida his phone, "I think the guy who owns the tattoo shop is flirting with me…what do you know about him? Is he even into guys?"
Iida raises a brow as he reads the email then lift his gaze to meet his eye, "well he's certainly being a very attentive piercer." A small chuckle slips out, making Katsuki groan and cover his face once he hands his phone back. "I don't know much about him but he's always been friendly when I'm bumped into him— definitely not that friendly though. As for whether or not he's attracted to men, I have no idea. I've seen him out the group of friends he hangs out with and a woman a few times, but that was a long time ago now."
"I won't read too much into it then," Katsuki can't help but deflate slightly.
Stupid, stupid, stupid— he's just being friendly. I was right, he's probably dating that girl or at least only interested in women.
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Originally, Katsuki wasn't planning on texting Izuku— really, he wasn't. But after chatting with a few of his friends back home and sending them a screenshot of the message, Kirishima and Mina convinced him he's a dumbass if he doesn't. As soon as he shows them the email, his phone erupts with texts from their group chat:
MINA (3:36PM): are you an idiot??? He isn't even attempting to be discreet about it
KIRISHIMA (3:37PM); really dude, its painfully obvious he's interested in talking to you more. Even if he just wants to be friends, which I highlyyyy doubt, it's not like you couldn't use a few more that aren't just your coworkers.
KIRISHIMA (3:37PM): i think it'll be good for you man!!
MINA (3:39PM): An objectively hot man gave you him number and you won't even send him a text. When's the last time you got laid even??? You've been so stressed from the move and the new job— really, i think you need to text him before you explode, for your health.
Why the fuck do I tell them this shit?
Despite wanting to throttle both of them, they aren't wrong. He's just…nervous. Which in turn makes Katsuki even more anxious about reaching out considering he never gets weird and shy like this. Izuku is the epitome of his taste in men and he's very interested in talking to him more, but what if he gets his hopes up for nothing? Of course he wouldn't be upset if Izuku was just looking for more friends, shit he needs more people to hang out with, but he wanted more than that.
A few drinks always help him feel a bit more confident, so he decides to lean on some old fashioned liquid courage and stop being a coward. Sitting down on his bed, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and swallows his pride.
KATSUKI (10:47PM): hey! Sorry it took a few days to text you, I've been slammed at work
As soon as the message is sent, he gets choked slammed by post-text clarity and chucks his phone across the room and starts pacing from his bed to the door. It lands with a soft thud in a pile of unfolded laundry he's been ignoring all week.
Shit shit shit shit, this is a bad idea. I don't even know if he's into men, what the fuck am I doing? I just moved here and barely know this guy! If I read this situation wrong, I'm going to feel like the biggest, dumbest asshole to ever —
BzztBzz
His phone vibrates twice in quick succession for a text notification coming through. It has to be Kirishima or one of his coworkers asking for a copy of the map he's working on. A coincidence. Izuku probably wouldn't even text back period because he took three days just to muster up the courage to actually reach out and say hello like some some kind of nervous middle schooler. An embarrassed groan fills the room and he drags his hands down his face; why was this guy making him so fucking weird? Texting him was a mistake. He should just block his number and pretend this never happened, so much for getting any other body modifications done while living here.
BzztBzz
Katsuki stops pacing and stares at his phone. After a momentary pause, curiosity gets the best of him after two almost consecutive texts and he stomps over to the discarded device.
If this is just Kirishima I'm going to strangle him.
But oh boy, it is not.
IZUKU (10:51PM): hey!! :) no worries at all, I'm just glad you reached out. I hope the piercing has been healing up alright for you
IZUKU (10:54PM): I'm selfishly hoping this is you reaching out for a more personal reason ;) I hope I wasn't being too forward or unprofessional sending you my number, but I couldn't resist.
Eyes wide and cheeks the same color as cherries, Katsuki stares at his phone slack-jawed. Yeah he's being unprofessional as fuck, but Katsuki is sickeningly into it. He wants him too badly to give a fuck about his age, professional boundaries, or any of that bullshit— he needs this man inside of him, like, yesterday. There's no delay in his response this time.
KATSUKI (10:56PM) : Not too forward at all, I'm more than interested in making this incredibly unprofessional.
Risky, but it seems appropriate to be straightforward in return. No sense in beating around the bush at this point either if he plans on getting what he wants.
His phone buzzes again almost instantly and heat coils low in his abdomen:
IZUKU (10:58PM) : if you had any plans on Saturday, cancel them— you're mine for the afternoon.
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Katsuki's heart is in his throat as he approaches Izuku's shop, the red door acting as a warning sign yet not deterring his evidently colorblind ass in the slightest. When Izuku told him to come over on Saturday, he hadn't thought he meant to the studio— not that he's complaining in anyway shape or form. Getting fucked in the shop had definitely crossed his mind more than once in the two weeks since they first met and the rush of the fantasy becoming reality was intoxicating.
Anticipation makes his nerves buzz and the blood in his veins overheat, but he's still trying to keep his head cool. They both obviously want each other, but maybe this was just a hang out to see if he wanted more? Fucking in the shop seems risky, so maybe this was just a test run or a way to get to know each other better. Izuku had mentioned that he was doing a small tattoo for someone that morning and told him to come around noon once he was finishing up.
As to not seem too eager, Katsuki shows up at a fashionable twelve fifteen wearing something nice like Izuku told him to. He chose a a pair of baggy black jeans that still manage to hug his ass perfectly and a matching fitted tank top that exposes a sliver of his stomach as he walks. Aside from the two piercings in his nose, silver rings decorate several of his fingers and a chain around his neck, the wrapped amethyst pendent bouncing off of his chest with each step. Normally he would scoff at anyone telling him what to do, especially how to dress himself, and promptly tell them to fuck off, but he felt an insane need to please the older man and look good for him.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he raises an anxious hand and knocks on the painted wood.
Izuku opens the door almost immediately, like he had been waiting for him— watching. "Hi Katsuki," he says with a wolfish smile.
Katsuki again feels like a moth with it's wings pinned to a board as forest green eyes look him up and down hungrily. He licks at his lips, "sorry I'm a few minutes late."
"I'll let it slide considering I said around noon," his voice sounds like silk, smooth and soft, "come in."
Katsuki steps through the threshold of the studio, brushing shoulders with Izuku as he walks by. He knows that he was here only days ago, however the atmosphere inside of the small space feels exponentially different; the air is heavy with anticipation and tension, the room feels hot despite the dim lighting and AC unit humming in the front window. Izuku closes the door behind him and he hears the unmistakable click of a deadbolt being locked, sealing his fate.
Izuku is on him before he can exhale the breath caught in his throat.
Large hands wrap almost fully around his slender waist and spin him around so he's facing the slightly taller man. Katsuki tilts his head back and peers through his lashes to meet his gaze while shallow, unsteady breaths fill the shrinking space between them. He reaches out to grab Izuku's forearms in an attempt to keep himself grounded while his head tries to float away.
"Been thinking about you all week," Izuku purrs, leaning into his space to speak into the shell of his ear. "Haven't stopped fantasizing about what you look like under your clothes… what kind of sounds you'd make for me."
Katsuki's knees threaten to give out when Izuku presses his leg between his thighs, grinding against the zipper of his jeans. The friction making his spine curve, arching his body into his anointed their chests are flush and he's essentially humping the thigh grinding into him.
"…I know it was only because of the piercing needle, but you look so fucking good with tears in your eyes,"Izuku's voice is hazy, clouded with hunger, "needed to see more…see you crying on my cock."
Katsuki has to stifle a moan when Izuku pulls him closer and begins to kiss down the column of his neck, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin above his pulse point as he travels towards his collar bone. Breathlessly, he tilts his head to the side, exposing more of his slender neck to Izuku like a submitting dog. He feels himself become lax, bones and muscles reduced to putty while Izuku's hands spread across his back and reach down to grab a handful of his plush ass. Katsuki sucks in a sharp breath when calloused digits slide under the hem of his shirt. Finally, he thinks as goosebumps erupt across his skin from the raw contact.
"Well?", he manages to tease, "what are you waiting for?" He would regret taunting him if all of the blood in his head wasn't vacating his skull to travel south.
A wicked smile pulls at the corners of Izuku's lips. "Patience, Kacchan," the cutesy nickname rolls off of his tongue, "you have to earn it and I'm not convinced you deserve to feel good yet."
Earn it?
"W-what?", Katsuki stammers.
Izuku doesn't stop groping him or remove his mouth from Katsuki's neck but he can feel him chuckle into his skin, clearly amused by his befuddlement. When he does pull away a moment later, a whine crawls up his throat but is swiftly cut off when Izuku grabs him roughly by the jaw, holding him exactly where he wants and forcing him to hold his gaze."Take off your clothes and get on your knees," the sweetness in his tone becomes dominating at whiplash speeds.
His eyes widen and all he can do is nod in response, the movement barely perceivable in Izuku's hold.
"Good boy," he coos as if speaking to an unruly puppy and releases his face.
The praise only makes him more pliant, splintering his ego his ego into shards.
Doing as he's told, Katsuki slowly lifts his shirt over his head and undoes his belt so he can step out of his jeans. His face heats up under Izuku's excruciating stare and he feels like he's on fire. Undressing himself knowing he won't be touched unless he's good is humiliating in the worst, best way. His cock stirring to life only makes the shame burn hotter under his skin when his boxers hit the floor, the last barrier between his naked body and this essential stranger gone alongside any semblance of self respect.
Emerald eyes take their time looking him over, traveling from his broad chest to his well defined calves. He takes note that Izuku stares a bit too long at his pecs and already hard cock, biting his lip to try and conceal a smile— but he doesn't touch. The itch to cover himself and grasp at threads of decency is mind-numbingly potent in his blood, but he needs to be good— has to be. When he eventually traces his stare back up to meet downcast carmine eyes, he speaks again, "kneel."
Much to his mortification, Katsuki obeys in an instant, surely bruising his joints when he drops down to his knees in front of him. The eagerness to please apparent in his eyes and body as Izuku groans and palms at himself through his pants, his own erection becoming visible under the dark gray fabric of his joggers. Before Katsuki can study the thick outline any longer, he shoves his pants and briefs down to his mid thigh and fully exposes himself.
He's fucking big.
The tip is an angry red color and already slick at the slit, it rests heavily between them but isn't fully hard yet as Izuku wraps a hand around himself and gives a few languid strokes. Katsuki straightens his spine but can't pull his eyes away from the slight upward curvature of the appendage inches from his face, he has no fucking idea how he's supposed to fit that in his mouth— or anywhere for that matter.
His thoughts are interrupted by Izuku tapping the tip off of his lower lip, the musky scent making him reflexively lick his lips and swipe the salty taste into his mouth. "Open."
That's the only warning he receives before the other presses forwards, feeding the first few inches of himself past his lips. Being mindful of his teeth, Katsuki relaxes his jaw and opens as wide as he can to accommodate for his size, the cool tile under his bare knees keeping him steady. Izuku sighs contentedly above him and tangles his hands in blond strands, he doesn't push or pull his head though, just holds him still. Saliva floods his mouth and his own neglected cock aches between his legs. However, right now isn't about him.
Katsuki runs his hands up Izuku's legs so they come to rest on the outside of the others thighs, welcoming more of him into his waiting mouth. He gags about three quarters of the way down but breathes through it as best he can— can't stop, can't stop, have to make him feel good. Izuku's fingers tighten their grip and a low rumble reverberates in his chest, the gagging noises seemingly doing something for him as Katsuki feels the already too big erection in his mouth grow to (fucking hopefully) it's full extent.
"Your mouth feels amazing baby… you can take more right?", Izuku's voice is becoming breathy and he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips, hitting the back of his soft pallet. "Wider, I want to fuck your throat."
It's the only warning he gets before Izuku fists his hands in his hair and buries himself deeper. Tears blur Katsuki's vision and he feels his nose press into the coarse hairs at the base of the others happy trail. Spit drips from his lips and leaks from the corners of his mouth as he chokes. "Good boy, Kacchan— so good for me, making me so so happy," the words barely register as Katsuki clings onto his thighs, gripping the thick muscle hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises. He sets a fast, rhythmic pace. Ramming the soft pallet at the back of his throat with every thrust and curling himself over Katsuki's kneeling frame to rut into his slick, warm mouth, each movement followed by an open mouthed grunt or raspy moan.
He tastes like sweat and the remnants of rosemary body wash. Katsuki can feel every vein and ridge slide over his tongue as Izuku uses his mouth like a glorified flesh light. He hallows out his cheeks and runs his tongue up the underside of his shaft with every drag despite trying to adjust without suffocating, making sure to lap at the leaking tip. It's too much and not enough at the same time. He can't think, can't breathe, can't pull away— all he's capable of is submitting and keeping his jaw lax despite the burning ache on the sides of his face.
He had planned on showing off for Izuku. Every previous partner had been absolutely delirious after Katsuki sucked them off, reduced to a sputtering mess of incoherency by the time he pulled his mouth away and licked his lips clean. He itched to bob his head, set his own perfected pace, use his hands to stroke him in rhythm with his slick lips to make sure all of his cock was receiving the attention it deserved— but he can't. Even the slightest shift of his head it met with a harsh tug on his already burning scalp. Izuku doesn't want him to do anything other than keep his mouth wet and open.
So he does.
Just as Katsuki thinks he might pass out from lack of oxygen, the older man pulls out but doesn't release the vice grip he has on his head. He gulps air into his burning lungs and coughs, not caring that he's drooling onto the shop floor and his exposed thighs. One hand releases it's hold and falls to cup under his chin, forcing him to look up with hazed over, teary eyes that have begun to leak down his cheeks.
"You did so well, looked so pretty choking on me," Izuku purrs, fox-like grin showcasing a dazzling, but malicious, smile. He uses the pad of his thumb to catch one of the stray tears pooling in the corner of his eye, "this is exactly what I needed to see."
Katsuki can't form words, his mind is too cloudy from the lack of air but his chest flutters at the praise.
"Get up," Izuku's voice is gentler, but still not a request, "sit on the table so I can stretch you out properly."
His already flushed skin darkens to a deeper shade of pink and spreads down to his exposed chest. Averting his eyes to try and retain an ounce of dignity, Katsuki manages to speak, " 's fine…already did it myself."
A gravely, curt laugh bubbles in Izuku's chest above him, "somebody is eager, making it so easy for me."
Shame burns his face and makes him squirm. Easy.
I kind of am though, aren't I?
Here he is, stripped naked, hard, stretched already, and drooling with a bruised soft pallet, just because this man decided to throw some attention his way. He doesn't even know Izuku's last name or how old he is. Maybe he'll come to his senses later, but all he can think about right now is how badly he needs to feel the other sink into him.
Doing as he's told, Katsuki stands on shaky legs and walks over to the table he got pierced on earlier this week, gripping onto the edge of the seat for support. He tries to keep his eyes down, but jolts when Izuku steps over and nestles himself between his legs hanging off of the chair. Gripping his jaw again, Izuku speaks in a commanding voice "I expect a 'yes sir' or 'no sir' in response when I ask you something, do you understand?"
Katsuki nods dumbly which is, evidently, the wrong thing to do.
Smack!
The slap isn't especially hard, but makes his spine arch and his eyes snap forwards with blown out pupils. He is met with a cold glare as the other looks down at him from his standing position between his thighs. Katsuki is fucking mortified to feel his cock filling out again from the sting spreading across the side of his face, even more so when he realizes Izuku sees it, too.
Fuck fuck fuck—
"Interesting," Izuku muses, eyes not leaving his hips as he uselessly bucks up into nothing. "But I expect a verbal response, I won't be gentle a second time."
"Y-yes, sir," he stutters.
"Good," Izuku responds, "now lie back for me."
He does as he's instructed with his heart hammering inside of his ribcage.
"Spread you legs."
Izuku reaches towards the table where he had his piercing set up arranged last time he was here. He opens one of the compartments and pulls out a small bottle of lube, pouring an ample amount over his fingers before placing it back onto the table. Katsuki has never felt more exposed as the still fully clothed man looms over him. He can't help but allow his eyes to flutter shut when Izuku reaches between his thighs, finally touching him.
He uses one hand to push his legs farther apart and up towards his chest until he's happy with the positioning, the other coated with lube traces down the underside of his neglected cock. The sensation makes his back lift off of the table and pushes a breathy gasp past his lips, but it isn't enough, "told you I already prepped myself."
"I know," Izuku states objectively, "I'm not doing this for you."
The urge to argue is extinguished before ever leaving his lips as Izuku's skilled fingers travel lower, circling his hole and coating it in lube. Katsuki digs his nails into his palms and stifles a moan, not wanting to sound so pathetic from barely being touched. Izuku teases him for only a moment before plunging two fingers inside, the sudden intrusion knocking the air from of his lungs and all of his muscles tense. With the lube and already having tended to stretching himself, they slide in with almost no resistance.
Izuku takes his time. Slowly thrusting his fingers and curling them so they press against his prostate on every slow drag out. Katsuki tries to keep his composure, really tries, but its useless. Breathy pants devolve into moans that echo in the empty studio, his eyes screw shut again to focus on not cumming on his fingers like some kind of fucking virgin.
It could have been minutes or hours of the languid, torturous teasing, but Katsuki lets a whine slip out when he feels Izuku retract his fingers completely. The loss of feeling filled leaves him adrift and needy until he feels something else prod at his entrance; its hard and…cold?
Furrowing his brows, Katsuki lifts his head with a perplexed expression not understanding what's going on and oh—
A large, clear dildo is pressing against him. Izuku uses one hand to hold the base of the toy and the other finds his hipbone, gripping his body firm enough to hold him in place and dent the skin under his fingertips.
"W-what…?"
"Shh," Izuku soothes in a patronizing tone, "you've been good, but you still have to earn the real thing."
Katsuki feels like crying. Wait, no— is crying. Hot tears openly leak from his eyes and carve down his hot, flushed cheeks, all sense of pride and reason dripping out alongside the salty droplets. Every nerve is a live wire, screaming with the singular, carnal need to be filled, and not with some fucking toy.
He thought he was being good.
Was I wrong? Did I make a mistake? Why would Izuku tell me I was bein' good if he didn't mean it or plan on fucking me?
Reduced to a mess of overstimulated tears, Katsuki keens and presses the heels of his palm into his eye sockets. "F-fuck, that's not fair…c'mon," he rolls his hips up, grinding against the toy like it were the real thing. "Just fuck me already."
Izuku clicks his tongue, disinterested, "sorry, you don't deserve it."
The dildo is pushed in to the base in an instant.
Thank god he was thorough in his prep, even so, the ring of muscle encompassing the toy burns at the harsh movement. Katsuki's vision whites out momentarily and Izuku has to lean his entire upper body into the arm he's using to keep him pinned to the tattoo bench. He nips and pecks at the skin of his chest while using his weight to keep Katsuki held down, tongue lapping over the bites. The stretch is sweetly painful and exactly what he needed to tip over the edge. An anomalistic sob is ripped from his chest as he paints his own stomach in cum, relief and horror take turns washing over him while Izuku's scrutinizing eyes watch him writhe and twitch through his embarrassingly quick orgasm.
It's not even his fault! Between having Izuku fuck his face and toy with him so much, he couldn't help it. None of this stops the mortification from settling into his bones as the high starts to fade and fresh tears sting at his eyes. He feels flayed open and exposed in ways he never has before being pinned to the table underneath him like this. Sweat dries on his skin making him shiver and he itches to cover himself, hide his nakedness and bloodshot eyes from the intense, predatory stare boring down on him from only a few inches above his face.
He all but shrieks when he feels the toy is not only still deeply nestled inside, but once again moving. Every synthetic ridge and bump dragging along his abused prostate each time Izuku bully's it back inside, tearing gasps and cries from his chest and making every muscle twitch against Izuku's oppressive grip. "Fuck,hhah, fuckfuckfuck— t-too much!", Katsuki whines, weakly trying to push away Izuku's hands. The only response he receives is a barrage of soft shushes and coos; 'you're okay/you're doing so so well/that's it—good job, sweetheart'— but he never stops driving the dildo into him.
His mind and body are stuck between needing him to stop and still needing to feel the real thing instead of just a toy. Izuku's hand travels from pinning his hip to slide up the slender expanse of his waist, the delicate yet possessive touch sends goosebumps across Katsuki's skin. Gentleness is disregarded once a calloused hand reaches the swell of his pecs. Izuku groans in sync with him as he begins to massage his chest, he digs into the soft flesh while moving from one side to the other before as to not leave one side neglected. After massaging his chest for a bit, his index finger and thumb find Katsuki's nipple and pinch at the bud roughly, earning him a sharp gasp from Katsuki's still swollen lips.
"I love the sounds you make," Izuku's voice is also becoming breathy. Heavy. The lust behind his eyes is searing, but he slows his movements inside of Katsuki to an agonizing drag, pinching and rolling his sensitive nipples between the pads of his rough fingers. "If you beg, I might actually fuck you," he says, eyes too distracted with his lithe body to even look up at him while he speaks.
Katsuki can't see below his waist from their current positioning, but he knows he's hard, too. He feels like a doll. Brainless with curves in all the right places, nothing aside from a pretty toy that exists for the sole purpose of Izuku's entertainment and pleasure.
He doesn't even think before he starts desperately begging. "P-please, please Izuku," he hiccups and pleads, back lifting away from the leather material sticking to his skin. "Fuck— please, please—," overstimulation making him slur his words, "need you to fuck me…need to feel you—please."
Fuck his pride, his ego, how pathetic he must look— there is nothing that could make him give a single shit about any of it right now. "Need it, need you—haah— need the real thing inside of me…", Katsuki babbles, the vague string of words almost entirely incoherent. He maintains eye contact as best he can and reaches for Izuku's wrist, guiding his hand away from his chest towards his throat and squeezing his hand over Izuku's, keeping it there until the other starts to constrict his neck on his own.
Izuku immediately presses his fingertips into the sensitive sides of his neck, applying a firm and restrictive pressure along his pulse points. Katsuki's eyes roll back and his hands grasp onto his wrist as he tightens his grip, yes, yes, yes—please. Despite having just cum and the short-circuiting nerve endings misfiring underneath his skin, he'd die if Izuku stopped or slowed down, will die if he doesn't actually fuck him soon.
It's as if the universe or gods above finally hear him.
Izuku pants above him and finally looks up to meet his gaze, pulling out the toy and leaving him empty. "Look so pretty clenching around nothing… so fucking greedy—but you're right, you've been so, so good for me baby. Need to feel you squeezing around me instead." Katsuki whimpers when Izuku releases his throat but gets sidetracked watching as he uses his newly unoccupied hands to pull his shirt over his head. Shoving his joggers all the way down so he can step out of them, kicking them next to the discarded pile of his own clothes near the front door and abandoning the used toy on the table.
In an instant, Izuku is on him, evidently not able to wait another second either. He steps between his still spread legs and stares down at him, pupils blown wide and jaw hanging open. A low grumble builds in his throat as he strokes himself in slow, syrupy movements before lining himself up with Katsuki's thoroughly stretched hole, the other hand gripping his hip again and rubbing circles the supple skin soothingly.
Heat coils low in Katsuki's abdomen and he feels like he might explode. A sharp inhale escapes his lips when he feels the head of Izuku's straining erection prod at his entrance. "F-fuck, Izuku! Pleasepleaseplease—", he's a mess of tears and fawning pleas, desperate to be filled, to finally feel Izuku thrust into him raw. Using a condom isn't even a fucking blip on his radar right now, not that Izuku seemed very concerned either. Part of him would be offended at this point if he stopped to grab one honestly.
Izuku's grip on his hip becomes bruising as he exhales a raspy groan, head dipping back slightly as he seems to adjust to the slick heat wrapping around his tip. Katsuki is grateful for the momentary stillness, he himself acclimating to the new sensation. Already bigger than the toy, he thinks despite his brain getting fuzzy. He smiles through the stretch, welcoming the intensity and allows a breathy laugh to slip out, completely letting go and surrendering to the sensations jolting through him like electricity. Submitting so wholly makes him float, elation bubbles in his lungs and escapes as another unbodied, husky laugh.
The momentary lapse in Izuku's commanding presence when he slipped inside vanishes hearing Katsuki giggle underneath him. The fog disappears from his eyes and his gaze becomes predatory once again, "feel that good already, Katsuki?" He presses his length half an inch deeper and pulses his hips shallowly, cutting of his euphoric laugh and replacing it with a pitchy moan. Izuku runs a hand up the expanse of his torso, stopping to pinch his already sore nipple before finding its home caressing his throat, immediately applying a firm pressure along the columns of his neck. The grip cuts off his breathing and leaves him choking, wheezes clawing their way up his restricted windpipe.
All of the air is pushed from Katsuki's lungs as Izuku squeezes this neck roughly and slams his hips forward, bottoming out in an instant and pressing their pelvises flush with one another. He holds on to Izuku's wrist with enough force to break the delicate bones of the joint. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream of sharp adjustment as white hot, blinding pleasure shoots up his spine. His walls clamp down around Izuku, practically keeping him locked in his tight heat as he gasps for breath and tries to relax around the too large cock splitting him open.
Izuku isn't in much better shape above him, "that's it— fuck!" Izuku lets a low whine slip out and grinds his already flush hips deeper into Katsuki's, eyes boring down on him half lidded with saucer pan pupils.
Tears well in his eyes again, but he can't be bothered or even think about it as Izuku pulls back out at a snails pace. Dragging across the sensitive skin and nerves inside of his now relaxing hole, Katsuki reflexively arches his lower back off of the tattoo bench, chasing with his hips while guttural moans fly past his lips incoherently. Once he feels only the tip still inside, Izuku rams his hips forwards again, burying himself to the hilt.
Katsuki all but shrieks as Izuku repeats the movements, faster and harder each time he drills his cock into him. Each thrust is punctuated with the lewd squelching of lube from his hole or their skin slapping together. Izuku is a mess of curses and breathy moans above him, pounding into him and keeping the his neck locked in his skilled hands. The vice grip holding him down by the throat and hip bone never falter, each sensation making him feel hot and dizzy, his head is hazy. Delirious with the euphoric live wire sparking across his skin and short circuiting his already fried brain, all he can do is relent and let the sensations eat him alive.
"Good boy, goood boy—ah—," Izuku praises him between grunts, "taking me so well— made for this…made for me—".
Katsuki gulps air into his lungs when Izuku releases his throat to instead just rest his hand across the delicate skin. The feeling of blood rushing back to his fucked out brain is nirvana; every sense is heightened, his ears ring, and all of the useless matter in his skull buzzes like he was drugged. A long, anomalistic groan is pulled from deep within his chest from the airy, floaty atmosphere that makes him feel like he's falling from the lightheadedness. Just as the buzzing was starting to fade, Izuku tightens his grip again and follows with a sharp slap to the face— significantly harder than the first one.
The strike drags Katsuki deeper into the cloudy space in his head and the sting sends shocks of white hot pleasure down his spine. A filthy, depraved moan makes his throat feel raw as it claws its way out. With his newly freed hand, Izuku grips both sides of his hips now, pulling him down to meet each thrust. Katsuki is still not fully present in his body, but manages to hold onto the back of his thighs to keep his legs spread, wide and accepting of whatever Izuku wants to gift him. Spread you legs and look pretty— be a good doll. After several particularly harsh ruts, he feels Izuku pull out, leaving his hole gaping and painfully empty. Katsuki whines at the loss of contact and looks up at him pleadingly, brows arching in confusion and hips lifting from the bench to chase the leaking cock he so desperately needs.
Izuku roughly pulls him so his ass is hanging off the edge of the table, earning him a yelp from the blond. "Flip," Izuku grunts into his ear, leaning down so his face hovers above his own, "then bend over."
The words sound like molasses in his ears. His head is stuffed with cotton as he nods along dumbly, mumbling as best he can to still be obedient and follow the rules, "yes, sir." His legs shake and every muscle feels like jello, but he rolls over and places his feet onto the ground, his untouched cock pressing into the bench under him for more friction. He tries to reach up and grip at the other side of the leather table for purchase, but his wrists are intercepted.
Izuku grabs both of his wrists and yanks them down, roughly pinning them behind his back, pressing the thin joint into his spine and making Katsuki hiss. He manages to fit both of Katsuki's slender wrists in one large, rough hand, holding him down before kicking his feet apart.
"Spread you legs again for me," Izuku is hunched over him, free hand lining himself up with his already stretched out, slick entrance. "Need to be between your soft thighs again…lemme see your pretty hole," fingers dig into the flesh of his ass and spread him open more, further exposing him. "So pink and slick, so greedy for me…gonna keep making me happy, yeah, Katsuki?"
He risks a glance over his shoulder, ignoring how sticky the surface of the bench underneath him is becoming from the mixture of sweat, slick, and pre dripping from his body. Huge mistake. Izuku's eyes are dark and hungry as they bore down on him, but they remain fixed on where he's prodding at him from behind, grinding against his ass until he finally catches. Katsuki gasps as the hot, wet tip of Izuku's cock slides back into his abused hole but he can't help how his hips roll back to pull him in deeper. Animal like, carnal instinct pilots his brain and pulls him as if marionette strings were wrapped around his body.
Izuku pulses shallowly inside of Katsuki and slides his hand along the soft curve of Katsuki's spine, sending a shiver through his restrained body. He mewls when Izuku's fingers wrap around the back of his neck, constricting the blood flow to his brain and pressing his face into the black leather.
Like a scruffed kitten, he feels his body become lax and pliant. When he looks to the side through half lidded eyes, he sees Izuku looking at him— evergreen irises almost completely lost to his pupils, chest expanding and contracting rapidly with each shallow breath, and an almost pained expression etched into his features.
Beautiful.
Katsuki spreads his milky thighs farther and grinds back, fully sheathing Izuku's stupidly big cock inside of himself. He repeats the lewd, languid motion several times, mouth hanging open, panting out hot, heavy breaths and freely allowing the tears that have been collecting on his lash line to drip onto the leather his face is being pushed into. Not once breaking eye contact with Izuku as he splits himself open— and fuck, he could cum just from how Izuku watches him.
He's looking at him as if he were a bug under a magnifying glass. Observing every twitch of his brow and how his face scrunches up with unrestrained ecstasy, the way blond strands cling to his nape and forehead with sweat, drool and tears that have dampened his cheeks, the deep blush that dusts his skin a bright shade of pink. It's obscene and filthy and messy— it's perfect. There is nowhere Katsuki would rather be, nothing he would rather be doing than pleasing the gorgeous man sinking into his needy body like he were nothing more than a warm cock sleeve. Izuku begins to match his rhythm, also not daring to look away in case he might miss a flicker in Katsuki's fucked out expression or stray tear leaking out.
Izuku quickly tires of Katsuki's evidently too slow pace and tightens the vice grip he holds around his wrists and nape of his neck until it hurts. He starts rutting his into Katsuki, hitting a spot deep inside with the upward curve of his cock and making him see stars.
He fucks like a machine, chasing his own high and simply dragging Katsuki along for the ride while he can do nothing other than take it and flex his hands uselessly in the other mans hold. Moans and sobs are being punched from his chest with every sharp snap of Izuku's powerful hips. Being held down and used so roughly by a relative stranger should be humiliating, he should hate how pathetic he feels, looks, and sounds— but he can't get enough. Especially as Izuku starts to unravel, fucking him harder and leaning down whisper filth into his ear.
"Take it, take it, takeittakeittakeit—," Katsuki keens when he feels Izuku lick the side of his face before biting the lobe of his ear with too sharp teeth. "So hot inside, feels like you keep pulling me back in," heat pools in Katsuki's lower abdomen and makes his cock twitch. Wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin fill the room along side their shared panting, the bench creaking and groaning under their weight and Izuku's powerful thrusts. Somehow it hasn't broken yet, but the wood and hinges squeak in a too fast rhythm as it threatens to fall apart.
"C-can't stop, feels too g—hah— good inside…can't wait to fucking fill you up, gonna look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you…such a pretty little slut for me."
The degrading name makes Katsuki clench around him unwillingly and shut his eyes, skin burning with shame.
Izuku begins to fuck into him harder, "you like that? Like when I call you a slut?"
"N-no—!', Katsuki sobs, still refusing to open his eyes as the brutal pace intensifies.
"Don't lie to me, Katsuki," Izuku yanks his wrists upwards, making him wince at the uncomfortable strain on his arms. "I can feel how tightly you're squeezing around me every time I say it, I can feel that you like it," he taunts, grinding his hips to drag the head of his straining cock across the overstimulated bundle of nerves inside of him. "Letting an older man you barely know fuck you like this, obeying me like a dog, begging for more—fuck— stretching yourself for me—"
"St—stop it."
"Keeping your legs spread like a good whore," Izuku continues, never stopping the sharp, brutal snapping of his hips.
Katsuki can feel the tension building low in his gut, every thrust creating delicious friction again his painfully hard cock between the bench and his torso. He shakes his head, denying the so obvious truth, "not—ah, ah!— not a slut." He can't even get the words out as Izuku presses his face deeper into the now spit and tear soaked material under his head. He wants to hide, needs float away from the shame making his skin burn, but he can't.
"Look at me, Katsuki," Izuku commands, tightening the grip on his delicate neck. "If you admit it like a good boy, I'll let you cum— just say it."
He slows his thrusts to an agonizingly slow, deep grind, hitting all of the right places but not hard enough to do anything other than edge him. Katsuki wails into the leather, frustration and overstimulation making him scream. A fresh wave of hot tears stings his red face; shame, lust, being slapped or choked—it all makes his skin feel hot and raw.
"Say you're a slut and beg," Izuku coos.
One hard, deep and teasing thrust is all it takes to dissolve the last shred of Katsuki's pride and self respect.
"I-I'm a slut…", Katsuki whispers.
He's rewarded with a slight increase in pace, but it's barely enough to scratch the surface of need in his greedy body. "C'mon, you can do better than that," Izuku teases, "louder."
Electric currents buzz under his skin, the arousal is going to his head and making him stupid and desperate to finally find release until he can't stand it anymore. "Fuck—!", Katsuki whines, "I'm a slut!"
In an instant, Izuku resumes his relentless, brutal pace. Fully sheathing his cock inside of him with every stroke and making Katsuki mutter almost incoherently while he fucks him into the padded leather bench. "I—," Katsuki hiccups, " 'm a whore, please, Izuku, just let me—"
"Not yet," Izuku cuts him off, his movements becoming more frantic. "Whose whore are you?"
"…yours."
"Again. Louder."
"Yours! Fuck, fuck—!", Katsuki screams as he approaches the edge. " M'yours— your slut, your hole… whatever you want, sir, only yours… I p-promise…"
A long, gravely moan is pulled from the older mans chest. Katsuki sees his head slump forwards and feels his cock twitch inside of him; he's close, too. Izuku releases his pinned wrists and drops his hand to join the other in grabbing onto his hips, pulling him to meet each plunge of his leaking erection. His bruising grip surely leaving marks on his pale skin as he loses himself to pleasure.
"Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki—," he chants his name like a prayer, "I can—shit— I can cum inside, right? Need to fill you up, need to see you pushing my cum out of your hole while I fuck you… It's okay, yeah?" The dominance in his voice still present, but beginning to slip as he pleads to release inside of his wet, welcoming heat. "Say yes, please, please— I need it…"
Katsuki feels the hot pressure coiling low in his abdomen ready to snap, the relentless assault on his prostate making him feel high. The scent of sex and sweat in the studio is thick enough to choke on and goes straight to his head, all he can feel is Izuku's hands on his body and his thick cock hammering into him, filling the small space with wet slaps and anomalistic moans and gasps.
The fingers around the back of his neck tighten, urging him to respond with the obvious answer, "Yes, yesyesyesyes— please, sir—!"
Once given permission, Izuku pins him down harder and fucks into him with reckless, sloppy strokes, driving his cock as deep as Katsuki's body will allow. The blond fists his hands and ends up slapping the fabric next to himself blindly with nothing to hold onto as Izuku uses him to chase his own orgasm, muttering curses and a slew of breathy 'thankyouthankyouthankyou's' into the sweat slick skin between his shoulder blades.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!— shit!", one, two, three more especially rough, deep thrusts and Izuku stills, hips pressed flush against his ass. His fingertips dig into the bruised skin on the plush exterior of Katsuki's hip and his pale neck as he paints his insides with thick ropes of cum.
"Take it— fucking take it," Izuku's voice is velvet, sickly sweet while he rides out the high of his orgasm still buried inside of him, cock still twitching and pulling sharp gasps from the man under him. He begins to pulse his hips again, fucking his release deeper into Katsuki.
But his words are barely audible through the cotton in Katsuki's ears as his vision blurs and pleasure all but blinds him momentarily. His own orgasm begins to tear through him, violent and overwhelming. He fuck himself backwards to meet each of Izuku's sloppy thrusts as best he can, making him scream as he feels the other flood his clenching hole. Stars explode behind his eyelids and white hot euphoria short circuits his nerves; feeling the older man pin him helplessly against the bench and fuck the mixture of lube and cum into him sends Katsuki careening over the edge.
"…I-Izuku—!", Katsuki can only stammer out his name under the hold on his neck and overstimulation frying his brain before he paints the bench and his stomach in his own release. Poppy colored eyes roll back and tears leak from the corners in thick droplets, his mouth hung open in a silent scream before a long, pathetic whine is forced from his mouth. Oh fuck, ohfu-fuckfuckfuck—he's unsure if the words are in his head or being said out loud.
"Look so pretty cumming on my cock," Izuku releases his neck, instead threading his fingers through his sweat dampened hair and tugging gently at the root. Katsuki rolls his eyes to meet his, the friction becoming unbearable against his still leaking cock and the soft leather as Izuku fucks him through his orgasm. "You're perfect, Katsuki— made for me, made to fucked like this," he leans down to place soft, warm kisses onto Katsuki's overheated skin at the end of his sentence. Lips trace feather-light along the curve of his spine, sending residual jolts of sensitivity to the base of his skull. "Did so well…you're perfect…perfect," he mumbles into the expanse of his neck, stopping again to kiss his skin softly.
Katsuki feels Izuku's calming erection slowly drag along his sensitive walls as he pulls out, making his breath catch in his throat at the movement. His already flushed skin reddening further when he feels cum drip out of his stretched out hole but he does nothing to shy away or hide himself; he couldn't feel any more exposed or humiliated than he already has since arriving.
Instead he lies limp on the table and breathes heavily under Izuku's weight lying across his back, his mind somewhere far away and sunset pink while the man above him continues to kiss his back and neck soothingly. The hand tangled in as hair loosens and Izuku scratches at his scalp instead in a petting motion, the other that had been pinning his hip now massaging his lower back as his thumb rests in the dimple next to his spine. Both men are still breathing heavily, panting in the others air and holding eye contact when Izuku stops pecking at his skin.
Katsuki is still buzzing with electricity and floating in the airy-post orgasm high that always follows when he fully submits like this, which is rare. He allows the pleasant shivers to roll through his frame and doesn't care that small, breathy whines are still slipping out as he comes down from the earth-shattering orgasm that just ripped through him. There's no responsibility here; no deadlines or engineer maps to be made, no pressure looming over his head, all he has to do is lie here. Pretty and mailable, only a body to be fucked.
The gentle massaging and scratching touches don't help quiet the soft sounds from escaping either— it's almost overbearing in its stark contrast to Izuku's touch only a few minutes ago and. Any and all contact is borderline painful to his to his overstimulated nerves. Katsuki hardly notices Izuku's half lidded gaze drop down to stare at his lips and his face getting closer through the syrupy haze fogging up his head.
His chest flutters as Izuku finally, finally, closes the gap and presses their lips together.
Both men sign into the contact, eyes falling shut to savor the soft pressure and taste. Izuku presses forwards, sliding his lips against Katsuki's and slotting their mouths together to deepen the kiss after a moment of simply breathing in each others scent. Spearmint and stale smoke dance across his palette, the addictive spit staining Katsuki's mouth and making him drool. He's hooked by the time the older man swipes his tongue across his lower lip for access and he opens eagerly. Izuku licks into his mouth with his head craning to the side, exploring past Katsuki's teeth with his tongue and pushing his own spit into the blonds mouth.
Katsuki hums happily into the kiss, vibrations traveling through his chest as if he were purring while he allows his mouth to be devoured. Izuku kisses him like a starving man, hungrily sliding his tongue over his and swiping at the roof of his mouth. Greed and carnal desire pollute his mouth as the kiss continues to deepen, only parting slightly to nip at the others lips slick with spit and sweat— not even to breathe. At some point Katsuki was rolled to lie on his back and his hands find themselves threaded through dark green curls. He tugs at the strands gently; to ground himself, to pull the other closer, to just have something to hold on to as his consciousness drips back into his body, it doesn't matter.
He's not sure how long they stay like this, connected by the mouth, bodies pressed flush against each other and tangled, but by the time he coaxes Izuku's head back an inch, they're both breathless. A thin strand of spit connects their lips as Izuku looks down at him, his eyes still slightly hazed over but full of fondness with a dumb grin tugging at his lips.
"You better disinfect the fuck out of this thing before you have another client come in," Katsuki scowls but there's no heat behind it. "Really— fucking on the tattoo bench is incredibly inappropriate, Izuku."
He laughs, airy in a way that makes Katsuki's chest tighten, "maybe, but it was really, really hot. Absolutely worth the mess and any crossing of professional boundaries."
Katsuki rolls his eyes but grins despite himself, lifting his head to nip the others swollen bottom lip, "asshole."
"You'll leave a good yelp review, right? Obviously you have to mention my stellar customer service," Izuku teases, "maybe don't mention fucking on my work station, though. I think if anyone saw how good you look bent over it, they'd be more than understanding, jealous of me honestly, but Health Code standards and what not…."
Izuku leans in to press a long, firm kiss to his lips and Katsuki breathes him in deeply, filling his lungs with the earthy scent of rosemary and sex. He smiles into the others lips, "now that wouldn't be very honest, plus fucking was a lot more enjoyable that getting stabbed with a piercing needle— don't you want me to highlight the best parts?"
Lifting his body weight off of him for what feels like the first time in eons, Izuku stands up with a wiped out groan, "I know you think it was hot, too, you cheeks got pinker when I said it."
No longer cock-drunk or cumming, he scowls and elects to ignore the horrifyingly true statement, "are you just gonna fuckin' stand there all day or are you gonna get me a towel?"
Katsuki yelps and almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a cum-slick finger prod at his entrance, circling the tender ring of muscle for only an agonizing second before pulling away. He exhales sharply and casts a venomous stare up through his lashes, gritting his teeth when he sees Izuku is sporting an amused grin from watching his reactive body twitch.
"F-fuck you."
Izuku bites his lips between his teeth to pretend to hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I'll be right back."
After tearing whatever ghost of pride he still retained to shreds and allowing Izuku to fucking clean him up and help him get dressed, he sat by the door to kick on his shoes. He had tried to insist helping with that too, but Katsuki swatted his hands away, unable to sink so low as to have the other tie his goddamn shoes for him. Aftershocks still rolled through his body, radiating down his spine pleasantly from the base of his skull and he felt free from the rules of gravity. His ass hurt like hell already and he'll surely be painted with bruises and sore tomorrow— but that's a problem for future Katsuki. Right now, he felt sated, blissed-out, and fucked stupid.
His extremities feel like his bones have been replaced with jello. Every move is slow and syrupy as he gets ready to limp home. The fine tactile skills needed to lace his boots are almost impossible presently, and he thanks himself for not wearing sneakers and making this even harder. Once he manages to figure it out, he stands on wobbly legs and sways, the light weight of his body shifting from one foot to the other while he gathers his bearings.
"I'm so happy you were able to make the time to see me today," Izuku's voice is raspy from grunting profanities into his back. "Promise you'll come see me again soon?"
He gives his best puppy eyes and Katsuki melts into a puddle on the checkered tile flooring. Izuku's almost black lashes make the varying shades of emerald in his eyes shine through despite his lids hanging heavily, its like looking into a thick canopy of different trees and ferns. The olive undertones of his tanned skin and messy curls make the rosy tint across his freckled complexion pop. All of his features are complimented by the unruly fringe of viridian tresses framing his face and sticking out in every direction. Katsuki's chest constricts as he watches Izuku arch a brow pleadingly.
He closes the gap between them with one stride and pulls Izuku towards him to crash their lips together by the door. Izuku immediately meets his intensity, fervently returning the firm pressure against his kiss swollen lips until Katsuki pulls back, skin humming with an unseen electrical current and already itching to feel the others hands on him again.
"I'll think about it," he says with feigned deep thought etched into his features. Like he could fucking stay away if he tried.