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There’s a thrumming under Izuku’s skin. It happens sometimes, when he goes into a dangerous situation but it ends so quickly that the adrenaline pumping through him doesn’t have time to wear off. He feels shaky and bright. Ready to activate his quirk at the slightest provocation, senses heightened, body positively humming.
Unfortunately, the hostage situation is already over. The only threats in the debriefing room are a stapler that doesn’t want to work properly and the gently whirring projector. Nobody is going to need saving from paper cuts. Every clack of the handler’s nails against the table makes him twitch and by the time he and the other heroes who were involved are dismissed, Izuku leaps out of his seat like it was lit on fire. He’s the first one out the door and down the hall, cowl held tight in one shaky fist.
There’s a locker room on this floor he knows, but he also knows that it’s the most popular one in the building. All the other heroes pouring out of the conference room will go there, as well as anyone about to clock in or out. So Izuku lets his restless feet lead him to the stairwell and up six flights to a different locker room. One a lot less populated.
In fact, when he barges in already ripping at his hero suit, he’s completely alone. He heads for the shower first, dropping his gear carelessly along the way.
The first shock of cold water against overheated skin has him groaning, every muscle tensing at once. He wants to move and fight but his shift had already been over when the situation had arisen. In fact, he’d been on his way back to the agency to clock out when he’d gotten pulled into it all. And though the situation had been taken care of fairly quickly it’s now two hours past when he was supposed to start heading home. Meaning he’s two hours late.
There’s no special occasion, but once a week or so Katsuki likes to make a dinner specifically to Izuku’s tastes that they can sit down and eat together. Being two married pro-heroes is surprisingly difficult, even working for the same agency. Their schedules are crazy irregular and don’t align often so they have to make time where they can.
And Katsuki hates when Izuku’s late. Izuku hates being late too; he loves getting to spend quiet evenings with his husband. There’s nothing better than curling up on the couch together after a wonderful, home cooked meal.
So there’s really no time for him to try and work all of this extra energy off. Even if he can feel lightening prickling up and down his arms, so strong that not even the frigid spray of the shower is helping.
Izuku washes perfunctorily, trying to daydream about the dinner waiting for him at home to calm himself. Crisp vegetables and meat marinated so well it falls apart in your mouth and rice that is, somehow, better than literally anywhere else Izuku has ever eaten.
But, as they are wont to do, his thoughts drift. And instead of dinner he’s thinking about how angry Katsuki is going to be with him. The furrow in his brow, the way he bares his teeth in a snarl when pushed. He’s matured over the years, doesn’t anger as quickly, is more considerate of others, but he’s still Katsuki at his core. Still volatile and bright and violent and all the things Izuku fell in love with as a child.
And Katsuki…well, he likes to take his anger out in certain ways sometimes. Like shoving Izuku into walls just to trap him there, kissing and touching and pushing, all hot hands and growled promises. Or he’ll tie Izuku down, a formality really because neither their bed nor the rope could hold up if Izuku truly wanted to escape, and use one of their many toys on him. Until Izuku is crying and begging and screaming, twisting so hard in his confines that Katsuki has to untie him or risk having to buy new ropes.
It’s not always like that though. Sometimes they like to go soft and slow, hands sliding across sleep-warm skin. Lips just barely brushing. An afternoon quickie when they’re waiting for the laundry to dry or there’s nothing interesting on tv; the brief intersection early, early in the morning when they’re in the same bed at the same time and all they want is each other’s company; after dinner or a date when they’re smiling and laughing, goading each other as hands sneak under clothes. There have even been a few occasions where Izuku has woken up feeling thoroughly used and sated, despite Katsuki’s side of the bed having long gone cold, and he’s a pretty light sleeper.
But none of that is what Izuku is thinking about as he leans against the shower wall and pants. No, he’s imaging Katsuki angry. Eyes glazing, palms hot enough to sear. Izuku’s entire body is lighting up, all that adrenaline finally finding a purpose as he starts to harden, heart hammering in his ears. His hand jerks towards his dick; if he’s fast he can beat one out and be done with it in a matter of minutes. But...
He can’t. For one, this locker room may be less active than the others but people still use it. Regularly. Somebody could walk in at any second.
Izuku’s cock gives a pulse at that, and he can feel himself leaking pre-cum into the freezing spray of the water. Apparently he’s into that idea. He groans and rubs a hand down his face before turning the shower off entirely. A discovery he can bring up with his husband later and definitely not try to explore right now, when he’s already late for dinner with said husband.
Ignoring his erection and trying to think pure thoughts about whatever Katsuki’s cooked for him, Izuku grabs a towel and heads for the lockers. He doesn’t personally keep any clothes in this locker room but he knows his husband does. Like Izuku, Katsuki can also be kind of volatile after particularly difficult shifts or missions, and he likes to be able to calm himself down in an underpopulated area.
Izuku’s downfall is, ultimately, the t-shirt and shorts he finds inside the locker. They both smell exactly like his husband. He can’t stop himself from shoving the shirt against his face, breathing in the scent like he’s some kind of addict. And maybe he is. Katsuki always smells amazing, all heat and spice and the too sweet edge of burning sugar.
Izuku groans low in the back of his throat, his free hand finding his cock and giving it a quick stroke. Normally if he’s getting off by himself he’ll try to ease into it, play with his nipples or run his nails along his stomach and the like. But he doesn’t have the patience or the time right now. He pauses to spit into his palm and then goes at it.
In the quiet of the locker room his voice and the wet, obscene sound of him jacking off echo against the walls. His entire body is bowstring tight, vibrating with all that pent up adrenaline, his eyes clenched shut as he pants against the dampening fabric of the shirt.
When he gets home Katsuki is going to absolutely wreck him. He’s not sure how exactly, but his husband always knows when Izuku’s been up to something, can tell when he’s gotten off alone, or when his thoughts have started to wander towards the lascivious. Izuku can’t complain. Katsuki will be angry at first, but then that firebrand gaze will flick up and down Izuku’s body, knowing, and either his husband will smirk at him or roll his eyes. The second option is interesting all its own, getting Katsuki actually angry. But Izuku prefers the first. Wants to imagine Katsuki calling him dirty and a slut, pushing him against the closed front door before he can even get his shoes off. He’ll ask if Izuku got what he needed or if he’s still aching, will trail warm fingers gently over Izuku’s face just to tease him.
Izuku groans, the fabric against his mouth sodden from his drooling now.
He wants Katsuki to call him a slew of dirty names and then fuck him up against the front door, holding Izuku’s hands behind his back so that he can’t touch himself. Wants to come undone on the feeling of Katsuki hot and huge inside him.
Or maybe Katsuki will push him down in the middle of the entryway and ride him until he’s crying, pinning Izuku’s hands above his head so that he can’t do anything except lay back and let himself be used. Katsuki doesn’t bottom often but it’s always phenomenal when he does. Almost as phenomenal as the times when Katsuki gives up control and lets Izuku take the lead for a little while.
Izuku’s getting close, he can feel it. His stomach is low and hot, pleasure licking up his bones and making his toes curl against the cold tile.
So of course that’s when the locker room door slams open.
Izuku freezes, not even breathing before he hastily throws the damp shirt back into the locker and snatches up the shorts. They won’t do much to hide his erection but he can always blame the adrenaline rush and maybe convince whoever’s there that he wasn’t jerking off in a semi-public place.
“Oi, nerd!”
For a second time Izuku freezes, shorts only half on. “Katsuki?” he calls back, voice high pitched.
Sure enough, the blonde rounds the corner, his tennis shoes squeaking loudly against the tile. He looks pissed, though not as angry as Izuku had been fearing, or hoping, but his eyebrows jump when he takes in Izuku’s appearance.
There’s a beat of silence between them, Izuku stock still and not sure how to react and Katsuki obviously taking in the situation. Finally he huffs loudly. “Were you just touching yourself?”
“No!” Izuku denies, much too loudly to be believable. He clears his throat before finally pulling the shorts all the way up, settling the waistband snugly on his hips and trying not to hiss as the fabric drags over his cock. “Okay, maybe,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Just…blowing off some steam.”
Katsuki smiles, slow and hot, tongue dragging along the sharp edge of one of his canines, and Izuku can’t help but shiver. He knows that look. That’s the look he was just fantasizing about, the one that leads to him being pushed around while his husband taunts him, mocking and affectionate, words designed to wind Izuku up higher and higher until he’s coming from the slightest stimulation.
“And here I was all worried about you,” the blonde says, stalking closer. Izuku’s instincts kick in, pushing him a step or two back, but the move only makes Katsuki’s eyes light up with the promise of a chase. “I saw that hostage situation on tv and came all the way down here to make sure you were okay. I know how you get sometimes. But lo and behold, what do I find? My husband jerking it in the locker room like a horny teenage boy who can’t control himself.”
Izuku juts his chin out, even as he backs up another pace. “And?”
“And?” Katsuki repeats, almost mockingly. “And, you’re a pro-hero, babe. Little kids and their parents look up to you. You help little old ladies cross the street and make villains quake in their boots. And here you are. Jerking it in public, trying to get caught like some kind of dirty voyeur.”
“I wasn’t trying to get caught!’
“No? You could have gone into a bathroom stall, idiot. Or the shower even.” Katsuki pauses next to the still open locker, surprise jumping across his features as he spots the saliva-wet t-shirt Izuku had hastily thrown inside. “Oh? Guess I know who you were thinking about then.”
“Like I’d think about anyone else,” Izuku snorts, briefly breaking the scene they’d been setting. But it’s worth it for the way Katsuki’s eyes go all warm for a second, mouth tilting up in a genuine smile. Then it curls into something more familiar, a knowing smirk, and Katsuki is suddenly up in Izuku’s space, pushing him back and back until he’s hitting a different row of lockers. Izuku had seen the move coming, could have gotten away if he’d wanted to. But why would he want to?
“Thinking dirty thoughts about me, baby?” Katsuki murmurs, hot, familiar hands finding Izuku’s wrists and pressing them tight to the metal. “Imaging my dick, hmm? Probably thought I’d be pissed when you got home and that I’d take it out on your ass.”
Izuku’s breathing is starting to go erratic, and he resists the urge to press his hips forward and up into Katsuki’s body. Sometimes he hates how easily Katsuki reads him. But sometimes it’s just hot. “Maybe I wanted you to,” he fires back, and shudders at the way Katsuki’s pupils visibly dilate at the challenge.
“Oh, I’m sure you did,” the blonde murmurs. “But that’s nothing new. You’re always gagging for my cock. Tell me, were you fingering that pretty ass of yours too?”
No, but now he wishes he had been. Then he’d be all prepped and ready for Katsuki to slide into, no wait necessary. But it’s not like he keeps lube on his utility belt and he’s old enough now to know better than to try and use soap. He flexes his fingers against the lockers, wrists rotating in Katsuki’s firm grip.
The blonde clicks his tongue loudly, correctly interpreting Izuku’s silence. “What kind of slut doesn’t even keep themselves ready to fuck, huh? You’re lucky I had something planned at home for us.” Without giving Izuku a chance to figure out what that means, Katsuki roughly pulls him away from the lockers, spins him around, and shoves him right back against them. One warm hand sneaks down his side, toying with the waistband of the shorts before yanking them off entirely. Izuku’s pretty sure he hears the fabric tear.
Izuku presses his overheated face against the locker, reveling in the cool metal even as he shivers and arches his spine, pushing his ass out. He feels Katsuki shift behind him then hears the rustle of clothing as the blonde goes to his knees on the tile. It’s the familiar noise of a bottle opening that clues Izuku in to what his husband meant. He must have wanted to jump Izuku as soon as he came home, and so pocketed the lube to make it easier. Then when he left to make sure Izuku was okay, the lube happened to make the trip with him.
Izuku moans lowly as Katsuki spreads his ass and shoves one, slick finger rudely inside him. He’d already been hard but his cock jumps at the intrusion, pre-cum starting to flow in a steady stream.
“You sure you weren’t playing with yourself here too?” Katsuki asks, so close his breath feathers over Izuku’s skin. “You’re so wet. Or maybe that’s just because you’re a slut.”
“Am not,” Izuku denies, though they both know he’s lying. He is a slut, but only for Katsuki. His case isn’t helped by how breathless the words were, or how he pushes back against his husband, trying to get him deeper.
Katsuki slaps his ass lightly, the sound ringing in the empty room. “Don’t lie, Deku. Now shut up and take me like a good whore.” With that as his only warning he adds a second and a third finger, making Izuku hiss from the sudden, sharp ache of it. But he also screws his hips back against the intrusions, loving the burn and the way Katsuki keeps purposefully grazing his prostate. Just enough to send a spark of electricity up his spine.
Katsuki’s fingers pause and Izuku turns his head, ready to complain, but a gasp is shocked out of him instead. There’s a tongue licking slowly up his taint and then back again. Katsuki pauses to lap at his balls but then moves away, swirling his tongue around the fingers still holding Izuku open.
Izuku can’t help the way he moans, thighs starting to tremble. His husband’s always had a wicked, wicked tongue on him. It circles those capable fingers before wiggling in beside them, spreading Izuku further.
“Oh,” he says, “Kacchan.” One scarred hand scrabbles at the lockers before he reaches back to tangle his fingers in Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki allows it, turning briefly into Izuku’s touch to nip at the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. But then he’s right back to it, thrusting his fingers in and out of Izuku in time with the lazy, hot swipes of his tongue. Sometimes he pauses again so he can hold Izuku open and lap into him, kissing and sucking at his rim until Izuku thinks his knees will give out underneath him.
Just when Izuku is about to start begging Katsuki gives him one final, sloppy kiss, bites at his ass cheek, and stands.
“Ready?” the blonde asks, the familiar jangle of his jeans coming undone sounding loud between them.
Izuku can physically feel his heart rate kick up a notch in excitement. He’s slept with his fair share of people but nobody, nobody gets him worked up quite the same way Katsuki does. Practically non-verbal, lifting up onto his tiptoes and pushing his hips back to try and get his husband inside him already. He moans out loud when he feels Katsuki’s cock, hot and wet, drag against his inner thigh.
“You want it, baby?” Katsuki murmurs, two fingers shoving roughly into Izuku’s ass and making him yelp. “God, you’re fucking tight for a slut, you know that? Go on, tell me how much you want my cock.” He leans over Izuku’s back, leaving stinging kisses all up his spine even as he roughly finger fucks him.
“Want it,” Izuku pants. His dick is so hard its painful and he knows he’s going to come the moment Katsuki is finally inside him, his orgasm buzzing just out of reach. “Please, Kacchan, I want your cock already!”
Katsuki’s voice is low when he growls, “Again,” into Izuku’s ear.
Izuku throws his head back with a moan as those talented fingers press suddenly, mercilessly against his prostate, not letting up. “Please!” he wails. “I want your cock! Katsuki, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-”
Katsuki moves so quickly that Izuku barely feels it. One second there are two fingers buried inside him, the next it's Katsuki’s cock. Izuku’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out, his fingers curling hard against the lockers, heated from his touch now, as his cock shoots cum against his chest. The orgasm shudders through him harsh but unfulfilling. It’s not anywhere close to being over when Katsuki pulls back and slams into him again, setting up a rhythm so rough and fast the lockers clatter with each thrust. Izuku can only hold on for the ride, over-sensitive and loving every second.
Katsuki is breathing heavily in his ear, occasionally moving to bite at Izuku’s shoulder or neck. And of course he’s still talking, calling Izuku a slut and a whore and his. “What are our coworkers going to think when they walk in and see you being impaled on my cock, huh?” he rasps, voice going breathless with exertion. Everywhere they’re touching skin to skin is slick with sweat, and Katsuki feels like a burning furnace against Izuku’s back. “’Course, dirty slut like you probably likes being watched. Why else would you have your hand on your dick where other people could see you?”
Izuku wants to deny the accusation but the only sounds he’s capable of making are breathy and obscene, the moans and gasps that Katsuki fucks out of him.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Katsuki continues, sharp teeth barely grazing Izuku’s cheek. “You want everyone to see you like this, spread wide on my cock and loving every fucking second of it. Then they’ll all know how big of a whore you are, how much you beg me to fuck you-”
Izuku comes again, just like that, and clenches down hard on Katsuki’s cock, making him hiss loudly. Katsuki’s thrusts slow, his breathing labored. “Did you just-”
“Yeah,” Izuku manages, trembling from head to toe.
“Fuck, Izuku. God, you’re so-” Izuku never finds out what he is exactly because Katsuki is hammering into him again, teeth finding purchase in Izuku’s shoulder and hands bruising on Izuku’s hips. He just leans his forehead against the lockers and lets the thrusts rock him, whimpering through the remnants of his orgasm, dragged on and on by the way Katsuki keeps sliding against his prostate.
With a low curse, Katsuki pulls out, cumming into his hand as he works himself over furiously. A moment later Izuku’s legs finally give out on him and he sinks to the floor, turning to put his back to the cool lockers. He doesn’t complain when Katsuki, panting, offers his cum-covered fingers, just lets them press into his mouth and licks them clean dutifully.
When Katsuki is satisfied he collapses next to Izuku, his head hitting the lockers with a dull thunk. “Well,” he says, and that’s all. Izuku nods in agreement. Well indeed.
“Maybe you should come pick me up from work more often,” Izuku offers.
That gets a laugh out of Katsuki and he shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “And risk actually getting caught? No, thanks. Makes for some hot dirty talk but I don’t really like the idea of sharing you.”
Something in Izuku’s chest gives a little flutter and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Katsuki sees it and snorts, bumping Izuku’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t look so fucking happy about it, nerd.”
“I can’t be happy that my husband loves me?”
“Woah!” Katsuki says, holding his hands up in the universal sign for slow the fuck down. “I never said anything about love.” It’s familiar banter and Katsuki’s eyes are bright with amusement, lips curled up at the corners, even as Izuku fakes a gasp of offense.
“Oh I see, you get to put it in once and suddenly you don’t love me anymore?”
“Once?” Katsuki echoes, one eyebrow arching high. “Excuse me, but if my memory of this morning serves correct it hasn’t even been once today, much less in general. I get it in all the damn time thank you very much, and don’t you forget it.”
“So its the sex that keeps you around,” Izuku concludes, nodding his head definitively.
“Among other things.”
“Other things like-” Izuku prods, fighting a smile of his own as Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Oh shut up, Deku. You know I love you.”
Izuku lets his grin shine through, laughing a little as Katsuki offers a smile of his own. But then the blonde goes to get up, which is probably a good idea. They should clean up and get dressed before anyone has the chance to stumble upon them. The longer they sit here the more that chance grows.
But Izuku still tugs Katsuki down. “Hey, c’mere real quick. You didn’t kiss me.”
“Needy,” Katsuki huffs, but obediently swoops in to press a brief kiss to Izuku’s lips.
When Katsuki moves away again, Izuku whines loudly and pulls hard on his arm. “No! Kiss me like you mean it, jerk.”
For a moment he thinks Katsuki might huff at him some more, but then his eyes brighten incrementally and he leans in slowly. “Like I mean it, huh?”
Twenty minutes later, when someone comes in change into their hero uniform, Izuku and Katsuki only just barely make it into the showers before they’re caught making out on the floor like teenagers.