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Shouto always wakes first.
He moves without sound, shifts behind Katsuki like the bed's a shoreline and he's some quiet tide rolling in without asking. Katsuki hovers in that space between sleep and consciousness, his body already recognizing what's coming.
Shouto presses his weight down first. He slides a hand beneath Katsuki's shirt, warm and wide, dragging his palm up the bare stretch of stomach. He grazes knuckles through soft hair, catches every rise and fall of breath with the backs of his fingers. Katsuki keeps his breathing shallow, eyes sealed shut, pretends sleep might stop this.
Shouto keeps his hand moving, spreads it across Katsuki's chest like he's claiming territory. He finds a nipple with his thumb and flicks it, casual, testing whether it still makes Katsuki twitch.
It does.
Katsuki jerks beneath the touch, a full-body flinch that locks his jaw and sends heat pooling low in his gut.
"Fuck off," he mutters, voice thick and scraped raw from sleep.
Shouto ignores him.
He keeps his hand there, grazes idle patterns across Katsuki's chest with his fingers. He moves his thumb again, more deliberate now, rolls the nipple in slow circles until the bud tightens and stands firm under the pressure.
Katsuki's breath catches. He tangles his legs deeper in the sheets while his hips shift without permission—barely enough to notice, barely enough to admit anything. Shouto presses close behind him, too warm the way he always runs in the mornings.
Then Shouto brings his mouth into it.
He presses soft lips into the back of Katsuki's neck, right where his hairline fades into skin. He lingers there, unmoving, waiting. Then he sucks—pointed and intentional, marking his opening move.
"Seriously," Katsuki grits out, voice catching. "Too fucking early."
Shouto hums low against his skin, sends the vibration sinking through muscle.
He shifts closer and Katsuki feels it—Shouto's cock pressing hard against his ass, thick and hot even through the soft cotton between them. Shouto grinds forward slow, lets Katsuki feel every inch of the rigid length, the weight and heat of it unmistakable.
Katsuki curses under his breath, tightens his shoulder. He stays exactly where he is.
Shouto drops his mouth lower, blooms kisses beneath Katsuki's ear before he ghosts warm breath across his neck. He drifts his hand downward again, flattens his palm over Katsuki's ribs before dragging it toward his stomach. He moves every touch with quiet intention, like he's mapping territory he's memorized a thousand times and still needs to relearn.
Katsuki exhales hard through his nose, curls his fingers tight around the blanket's edge.
"You're the worst," he mutters.
Shouto says nothing. He continues his slow exploration, brushes his thumb over Katsuki's nipple with more pressure this time. He pulls the sensation tight across Katsuki's entire chest, gathers and spreads heat until Katsuki's skin feels stretched thin over every nerve.
Katsuki growls and shoves a hand behind him.
He finds exactly what he expects—Shouto's cock straining against cotton, hard and thick and slick-hot beneath his grip. Katsuki squeezes it through the fabric, rougher than necessary, proving some point only he understands. Shouto releases a soft breath that catches in his throat.
"This is all you're getting," Katsuki mutters. "Then I'm sleeping."
Katsuki strokes once—slow, deliberate, base to tip with his fingers tight, drags his thumb up the underside where Shouto's cock pulses most sensitive. He watches the cotton darken beneath his palm, already damp with precome, fabric clinging to the shape and heat twitching against his grip.
Shouto breathes shallow against Katsuki's shoulder, jerks his hips forward to chase friction.
Katsuki smirks into the pillow.
"Figures you'd wake up hard," he says. "You get off on this size shit, don't you?"
Shouto moves both hands now—presses one to Katsuki's chest, slides the other higher beneath his shirt. He spreads his fingers wide, radiates warmth from his palms. He brushes his thumbs over both nipples simultaneously, finds each tight bud with the pads of his fingers and works them in matched rhythm.
Katsuki jolts.
Shouto turns the touch maddening—careful and centered, like he's performed this ritual a hundred mornings and still wants to discover something new each time.
Katsuki grits his teeth and strokes again, tightens his grip, speeds up just slightly with his wrist twisting at the top. Shouto shudders behind him, hips stuttering forward. A sound slips out, low and bitten off, more breath than voice.
Shouto falls apart fast. Katsuki touches him lazy and practiced, gives him just enough pressure, just enough rhythm to tip him over the edge.
When Shouto comes, he goes quiet. His hips jerk forward once, hard. Then warmth floods the front of his boxers, seeps into Katsuki's fingers. Sticky and hot. Katsuki grimaces.
"Gross," he mutters, wiping his hand on the blanket.
He shifts in place, back still to Shouto, twists at the waist to reach for a tissue on the nightstand. One leg stretches under the covers, the other bent and hooked around the edge of the bed. His shirt rides up. The waistband of his sleep shorts tugs low on one side, catches in the crease of his hip.
Shouto keeps watching him. Katsuki can feel it. He also feels the way Shouto's cock hasn't softened at all—still thick and insistent where it presses against him through damp fabric.
Then the air shifts. Shouto moves his hand again, drags it down lower, grazes his fingers along the inside of Katsuki's thigh. Fabric rustles.
Katsuki freezes.
Shouto pulls the fabric of Katsuki's sleep shorts tight, then shifts it aside.
He presses a single finger forward. Finds wet cotton first. Then skin.
Then slick heat.
Shouto brushes the tip of his finger through wet warmth. He doesn't push right away, lingers at the edge instead, explores with quiet reverence. Katsuki's breath catches. He tenses his thighs. He braces one arm against the mattress as he turns sharply, throws a sharp glare over his shoulder.
"The hell do you think you're doing."
Shouto doesn't answer. He keeps his gaze low, locks it on where his hand vanishes between Katsuki's legs. He shifts his finger slightly, drags slickness higher, slow and deliberate. Katsuki's sleep shorts cling to his skin now, fabric dark with heat, bunched along one thigh. His cunt aches, flushed and swollen, lips parted just enough to catch air.
Katsuki grabs Shouto's wrist. He grips hard, unforgiving. "I was cleaning you up," he says through gritted teeth. "You came all over me, remember?"
Shouto presses deeper.
He slides his finger between soft folds, sinks slow into wet heat. The resistance meets him, faint but real. Katsuki's body clenches around the intrusion, muscle twitching tight, cunt warm and already pulsing. The slick sound of it fills the quiet room, subtle and obscene.
"You're wet," Shouto says, voice low.
Katsuki breathes hard through his nose. "Because your dumb morning hard-on was grinding into my ass."
He loosens his grip on Shouto's wrist. The tension in his arms shifts, no longer trying to stop him. Shouto leans in, presses his chest against Katsuki's back, brushes warm breath along the curve of his neck. Then he slips a second finger in beside the first.
Katsuki jolts. A sharp inhale punches through his lungs.
He twists at the waist, kicks one leg under the sheets. He fists the blanket with his free hand. "Tch. Too much."
Still, he tips his hips back, small and instinctive, like his body wants to keep the pressure there.
Shouto hooks his fingers slightly, tests the depth. Katsuki's walls flutter around him, rhythm erratic, pulse skipping under skin. The stretch spreads low through his pelvis, a dull, throbbing weight that sharpens with every curl of Shouto's hand.
Then everything moves fast.
Shouto rises onto his knees and pushes Katsuki flat against the mattress. He presses his palm between Katsuki's shoulder blades, firm and deliberate. The sheets pull tight across Katsuki's hips, his legs splayed and tangled, his cunt bared and open, slick against the cool morning air.
Katsuki bucks once. "Oi. Get off."
Shouto's voice lands soft. Almost quiet.
"Just this morning. Let me?"
His tone doesn't match his actions. It never does. Shouto presses his cock between Katsuki's thighs again—still hard, sticky at the tip. He nudges the head forward, catches it on slick folds, smears warmth where his fingers had just been.
Katsuki stiffens under him. He opens his mouth, ready to curse. Then shuts it again.
He stares at the headboard.
He flexes his jaw.
"Only once," he mutters.
He shudders out a breath, hot against the pillow. He shifts his hips, tilts his pelvis with a tight little motion that opens himself up just enough. His sleep shorts hang awkward around one thigh now, waistband dragged low, fabric twisted.
Shouto exhales against the back of his neck.
"Stay like this," he says.
Then he moves.
Shouto notches the head of his cock against Katsuki's entrance and pushes. The blunt tip presses against him. Katsuki's body resists for one breath, two, before the thick head forces past the tight ring of muscle and sinks inside.
The stretch tears through him.
Katsuki gasps as his cunt parts around the intrusion, every inch of give apparent as Shouto's cock spreads him open. His pussy walls clutch tight around the shaft, slick and hot and pulsing, dragged wide by thickness his body hasn't prepared for. The burn radiates outward from his entrance, crawls up through his pelvis and makes his thighs shake.
"F-fuck. Wait—" His voice pitches, sharp and raw. "You're too deep—don't—"
Shouto doesn't pull back. He pushes his hips forward with quiet control, feeds more of his cock inside. Every fraction of the slide registers—the way his inner walls stretch and cling, the way the thick length carves space inside him, the way pressure builds deep in his gut as Shouto sinks deeper, deeper, until his pelvis presses flush against the curve of Katsuki's ass.
Katsuki sucks in air through his teeth. Stuffed full, his cunt stretched taut around Shouto's cock, the thick shaft throbbing inside him. His body tries to adjust, muscles fluttering helplessly around the intrusion, but there's no room. Slick leaks from where they're joined, warm and steady, drips down the inside of his thigh.
"You never fucking prep," Katsuki growls, voice strained.
Shouto drifts his hands to Katsuki's chest again. He presses down, cups both pecs through the thin fabric of his shirt. He rubs his thumbs over Katsuki's nipples—slow, heavy circles. The sensations layer—Shouto's cock buried deep in his cunt, thumbs working his nipples through cotton. Heat spirals through his core, makes his pussy clench tighter, makes the stretch dig deeper.
Katsuki moans. His arms shake.
Shouto starts to move.
He pulls back. Slow. The thick shaft drags against his inner walls, the ridge of the head catching on the tight ring of his entrance. The friction burns—not painful, but hot, every nerve ending firing as Shouto withdraws inch by inch. Katsuki's pussy clenches around him, tries desperately to hold on, muscles fluttering and gripping at the retreating cock. The pressure eases as Shouto pulls almost all the way out, just the tip still buried inside, and Katsuki gasps at the sudden emptiness, the aching loss.
Then Shouto pushes back in.
He drives forward slow and steady. The blunt head presses past his entrance again, his cunt spreading wide to accommodate the thick shaft. The slide continues—every inch sinking deeper, forcing through the tight grip of his inner walls. The stretch intensifies as Shouto fills him, his body parting around the intrusion, the thick length carving through slick heat until Shouto's hips press flush against his ass again.
The fullness makes Katsuki's breath stutter.
Shouto pulls out again. Slower this time. Every ridge, every vein drags against oversensitive tissue. His inner walls cling to the shaft, pulse around it, try to pull it back in even as Shouto withdraws. The wet sound of it fills the room—obscene and unmistakable. Slick drips from his entrance, warm and constant. Shouto pulls back until just the head remains inside, stretching the tight ring of muscle.
Then he pushes in again.
This thrust goes deeper. Shouto's cock sinks all the way to the root, the thick shaft filling every inch of space inside him. The pressure blooms deep in his gut. His cunt stretches wide around Shouto's girth, inner walls forced to accommodate. The blunt head presses against something deep inside that makes stars burst behind his eyelids.
Shouto sets a rhythm.
He pulls out. Long and slow. Katsuki feels the drag, feels his pussy clench and flutter uselessly, feels the emptiness grow as the thick shaft withdraws. Then Shouto pushes back in. Just as slow. Just as deep. The slide forces Katsuki's breath out in a sharp gasp. His inner walls stretch and grip, pulse around the intrusion, send sparks racing up his spine.
Pull out. The wet squelch of Shouto's cock sliding through soaked heat. The relief and loss as pressure eases. Katsuki's cunt clenches desperately around the retreating shaft.
Push in. The stretch as Shouto fills him again. The burn of being spread wide. The fullness that makes Katsuki's thighs shake.
Pull out. Slow drag against every sensitive spot. Inner walls clinging helplessly. The ridge of the head catching on his entrance.
Push in. Deep. So deep Katsuki feels it in his gut. The thick length forcing through tight heat. Pressure blooming in his pelvis.
Each thrust builds on the last. The rhythm stays measured, controlled, but Katsuki feels himself getting wetter, feels more slick leak from where they're joined with every stroke. His cunt pulses around Shouto's cock, muscles fluttering erratically, nerves firing hot and constant.
Katsuki bites his bottom lip, hard enough to sting.
His whole body fights it. And still, he rocks back into the thrusts—barely. Just enough to feel the slide deeper. Just enough to chase the pressure building low in his gut, even while his chest burns with shame.
Shouto grinds forward again—slower this time, deeper. He buries his cock to the root and holds there. Katsuki feels the blunt head press against something deep inside, feels pressure bloom in his pelvis. His jaw locks. His fingers dig into the mattress like claws. The stretch feels endless—his cunt spread wide around Shouto's girth, inner walls clenching helplessly.
"Shit—" he hisses. "Fucking—wait, I—"
Shouto closes his hand around Katsuki's wrist. He pulls it back. He folds Katsuki's arm behind him until his chest sinks lower into the sheets. The angle shifts and suddenly Shouto's cock drives deeper. Katsuki feels it hit something inside that makes his vision white out for a second. His hips lift higher, forced into a steeper arch. He trembles in his thighs.
"I'm staying in," Shouto says. "You keep pulling away. Stop."
The tone doesn't leave room. It bites, blunt with want.
Katsuki chokes on a breath. He feels Shouto's cock throb inside him, feels his own pulse hammering in his cunt, feels slick drip steadily from where they're joined. He grits his teeth, tries to push back, finds his arm trapped behind his back. Shouto presses forward again and Katsuki feels the thick shaft grind against his inner walls, feels pressure bloom deep in his core. Deep. Hot. Drenched in slick.
His cunt pulses around the intrusion, helpless.
"Fucking hell, you're tight," Shouto mutters. "Always in the mornings."
He picks up the pace.
He pulls out faster now. The drag burns, friction hot against swollen tissue. Katsuki's inner walls clench tight, try to hold on, but Shouto withdraws until just the tip remains.
Then he slams back in.
The thrust punches air from Katsuki's lungs. He feels Shouto's cock drive deep in one hard stroke, feels his cunt forced to take the full length all at once. The stretch tears through him. His body rocks forward with the impact, sheets twisting beneath him.
Pull out. Fast and ruthless. The wet sound obscene in the quiet room.
Slam in. Deep and brutal. Katsuki feels the thick shaft split him open, feels pressure explode in his gut.
The rhythm turns hard and fast. Each thrust harder than the last. Shouto pulls back and drives in, pulls back and drives in, sets a pace that leaves Katsuki gasping and writhing beneath him. His cunt feels swollen and raw, stretched past comfort, but the friction sends sparks racing through his nerves with every stroke. Slick drips steadily down his thighs. The wet slap of Shouto's hips against his ass fills the room.
His sleep shorts cling forgotten to one thigh. His shirt rides up his ribs. His spine arches with every thrust, body moving without permission.
Katsuki can't speak. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. The sounds that leave him come short—breathless exhales, ragged swears, a muffled cry that dies in the sheets.
"Lemme go," he says hoarsely.
Shouto doesn't.
He leans over him instead, crowds the space above his back, pins his body into the bed with his weight. He slides his free hand under Katsuki's chest, gropes roughly now, palms both pecs through the thin cotton, presses them together until the flesh mounds beneath his grip. He catches his thumbs on stiff nipples and rubs harder, circles them through the fabric until Katsuki can feel the friction burn hot against the sensitive buds.
"You're already soaked," Shouto says. "Don't tell me to stop when your body's this wet for me."
Katsuki jerks under him. His shoulders bunch, spine trying to arch away from the touch.
"That's—" he gasps, "—because you're grinding into me like a fucking dog."
Shouto thrusts harder. Katsuki cries out.
The sound splits from his throat, high. His body pitches forward on instinct, chest pressing into the mattress, but Shouto's grip keeps him anchored in place. Shouto rolls his hips deep, grinds the base of his cock against Katsuki's ass. Each stroke pushes Katsuki up the bed, drags his knees forward across the sheets, makes his thighs twitch and spread wider.
"Feel that?" Shouto breathes against his ear, lips brushing the shell. "I'm not even bottomed out yet."
"You—" Katsuki's voice cracks. "Fuck—fuck, stop bragging—"
"I'm not," Shouto says. "You're just small."
He drives his cock deeper again, angles his hips down and grinds at the end of the thrust, buries himself into the softest part of Katsuki's cunt. The head of his cock presses against the end of Katsuki's channel, pushes into tissue that has nowhere left to give. Katsuki seizes.
The pressure hits low in his stomach, radiates through his pelvis like a bruise blooming from the inside. His cunt spasms around Shouto's cock, walls clenching and releasing in helpless rhythm. Slick leaks in fresh pulses, drips from where they're joined and soaks into the sheets beneath them. The sound of it fills the room. Every thrust comes with a wet squelch, obscene and unmistakable. Katsuki drowns in the heat of it. His thighs are soaked, slick running down to his knees. His cheeks burn flushed. His mouth hangs open, shaking with each breath.
Shouto doesn't let up. Doesn't soften.
He grabs both wrists now, drags them behind Katsuki's back and pins them there with one hand. His grip circles both wrists easily, holds them together at the small of Katsuki's back. Katsuki bucks, tries to pull free, but the position pushes his hips higher instead. His ass lifts. His spine curves deeper. His cunt stays open, twitching around Shouto's cock, leaking slick with every motion. He can feel it run down his thighs in warm rivulets.
His voice breaks. "I—Shou—fuck—I can't—"
"You are," Shouto says.
He leans down, presses his mouth against the sweat-damp skin of Katsuki's shoulder. His lips drag across the curve, hot.
"You're taking all of it."
Another thrust comes deep. Shouto pulls back just enough to drive in harder, lets the weight of his hips add force to the stroke. Katsuki screams into the sheets. The sound comes muffled but raw. His clit throbs, untouched but aching, swollen from the constant pressure of being fucked. The fullness burns through him, makes his gut feel tight. His muscles clench in waves he can't stop, his cunt gripping and releasing around Shouto's cock in a rhythm beyond his control.
"I said just once—" Katsuki chokes out.
"I didn't finish," Shouto says.
"You fucking did—earlier—"
"That wasn't enough."
Shouto shifts his grip. Slides a hand under Katsuki's thigh, grips the soft flesh there and lifts it, bends it up and out to open him more. He presses his other hand to the small of Katsuki's back, holds him down and locks him in place.
"Don't run," Shouto says. "Not when you're dripping like this."
Katsuki sobs once. The sound punches out of him, broken. No words come out after. He sinks his head into the mattress, turns his face to the side to breathe. His hips stutter, rock now with every thrust. Meet it. Chase it. His body moves on its own, seeking the pressure even as his mind screams at him to stop.
His cunt clenches again, tight and rhythmic. It doesn't stop. The pulses come faster now, muscles contracting around Shouto's cock in a pattern Katsuki recognizes too well.
He's close.
He's too fucking close.
"No—no, don't—" he pants. "Don't make me—"
"You're gonna come," Shouto says. "You always do when I fuck you like this."
He sharpens his pace. Thrusts faster, harder, drives forward with enough force to shake the bed frame. The headboard thumps against the wall. Katsuki cries out with every stroke, voice breaking into desperate sounds he can't swallow back. He kicks his legs, feet scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. His ass bounces back into Shouto's lap, greedy and trembling, body taking every thrust and begging for more.
He wants to scream.
His body gives in first.
The orgasm punches through him like fire through soaked cloth. Fast. His cunt clamps down on Shouto's cock, muscles locking tight enough to make Shouto grunt behind him. Slick gushes out of him, floods around Shouto's cock and runs down his thighs in hot streams. It pools on the sheets beneath them, soaks into the fabric. He shakes. His arms go slack in Shouto's grip, all tension draining out. His breath breaks into stutters, harsh gasps that catch in his throat.
Shouto fucks him through it.
Still locked inside, grinding deeper, dragging him back into every thrust like he can't bear to let go. His cock drives through the tight clutch of Katsuki's spasming cunt, forces the muscles to give even as they try to clench down.
Katsuki's voice dies. Just soft gasps now. Wet sounds that break in his throat, mingle with the slap of skin and the obscene squelch of Shouto's cock moving through the flood of slick.
"Too much," he whispers. "Too much—fuck—"
Shouto groans behind him. The sound rumbles deep in his chest, presses through where their bodies meet.
His rhythm stutters.
Then he slams forward one last time, hips flush against Katsuki's ass, cock buried to the root and twitching inside. Katsuki feels the heat of it flood him, fill him. Warmth spills deep, pulses in thick spurts, slick mixing with cum. He feels it coat his insides, feels the wet heat of it spread through his cunt.
Shouto stays buried. He drapes his chest over Katsuki's back, skin sticking where sweat has gathered between them. He ghosts hot breath against the curve of Katsuki's neck, each exhale damp.
They don't move.
Katsuki's limbs shake. His cunt clenches in little aftershocks, sore from the stretch, flooded with cum that leaks out around Shouto's softening cock. His arms stay where Shouto left them, wrists still pinned behind his back. He lies with his face pressed to the sheets, breath fogging the fabric with each shallow exhale.
Shouto kisses his shoulder. Soft, almost tender.
Katsuki swallows hard.
"I'm gonna kill you," he says, voice shredded.
Shouto breathes a laugh against his skin. "You always say that."
His cock still sits inside him, softening but thick enough to keep Katsuki's cunt stretched around it.
Katsuki clenches around it once, makes it sharp.
"You better get out before I throw you through the fucking wall."
Shouto kisses the back of his neck. His voice lands soft, satisfied.
"After a minute."
Shouto doesn't let him recover.
Katsuki's still shaking, arms collapsed beneath him, forehead pressed to the damp sheets. His cunt flutters around the softening weight still buried deep inside, spasms wrung out by pressure and heat. Slick coats his thighs, mixes with cum and drips onto the sheets in warm drops. His chest heaves. His voice left him somewhere in the middle of that last orgasm.
Then Shouto moves. He pulls out with a slow drag, slides his cock free of Katsuki's body in one long stroke that makes Katsuki hiss through his teeth. The stretch retreats inch by inch, the thick shaft sliding through oversensitive tissue. The ache lingers raw in his cunt. It pulses, empty now, clenches around nothing. Cum leaks from his entrance, warm, runs down to join the mess already coating his thighs.
Shouto shifts his weight back, rises onto his knees. He grips Katsuki's waist with both hands. Then he lifts.
"What—" Katsuki's voice comes thin, hoarse from screaming. "What're you—"
"Up," Shouto says, already guiding him. "Come here."
Katsuki gets halfway through trying to resist before Shouto pulls him upright. He maneuvers Katsuki with practiced ease—one hand steady at his waist, the other supporting his back as he settles into a sitting position and draws Katsuki into his lap. Katsuki's knees slide along the sheets, spread wide to straddle Shouto's hips. His thighs part, aching. His arms hang limp at his sides. The movement drags Katsuki's cunt across Shouto's stomach, leaves a wet trail of slick and cum across heated skin.
Katsuki straddles his thighs now, sits up in Shouto's lap. His face is flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His cunt drips steadily against the slick mess on Shouto's stomach, still twitching and clenching from the aftershocks.
He grabs Shouto's shoulders, digs his fingers in hard enough to leave marks.
He means to push. To balance. To say no, this is enough.
Instead, Shouto slides his cock back in.
The angle is worse like this. Deeper. He presses the head straight up, thick and insistent, splits Katsuki wide again before his body can adjust. Katsuki gasps—too loud. He arches his back, spine curving as he tries to accommodate the intrusion. His cunt gives, slick and hot, swallows Shouto back inside inch by inch. He feels every fraction of the slide, feels his inner walls stretch and part around the thick shaft, feels the pressure build low in his gut as Shouto sinks deeper.
"F-fuck—shit—wait—"
But Shouto wraps his hands around Katsuki's hips and slams him down.
Katsuki shouts. The stretch hits deep and brutal, cock buried to the hilt in one ruthless stroke. His thighs tremble with the force of it, muscles shaking from the impact. His walls grip tight, clench around Shouto's cock, still sensitive from the last orgasm. He's already wet enough that the slide makes a filthy squelch beneath them, slick flooding around where they're joined. He can feel it drip down, warm and constant, coating Shouto's balls and pooling on the sheets below.
Then Shouto sits up.
He slides his hands up under Katsuki's shirt, drags rough palms over his sides, traces the curve of his ribs with calloused fingers. He brushes his thumbs across each bone, maps the terrain of Katsuki's torso. He shoves the shirt higher, bunches it beneath Katsuki's arms until the fabric catches under his armpits. The cool air rushes across damp skin, makes Katsuki shiver. Goosebumps rise across his chest and stomach.
Then Shouto takes his chest in both hands.
He palms Katsuki's pecs, squeezes the soft flesh, kneads it beneath his fingers. He bends forward, brings his mouth close enough that Katsuki can feel the heat of his breath ghost across one nipple. He finds it with his lips and closes hard around it.
"F-fuck—Shouto—"
Katsuki jolts. He twitches his hips, cock shifting inside him with the movement. His breath punches out of him in a harsh gasp. The suction comes immediate. Wet. Demanding. Shouto flicks his tongue once over the tip, circles the sensitive bud, then he bites. Just sharp enough to sting. Just hard enough to make Katsuki's vision white out for a second. He seals his lips again, works his mouth over the nub like he's starving for it. He sucks hard, hollows his cheeks, pulls the nipple deeper into the wet heat of his mouth.
Katsuki claws at his shoulders. He digs his nails in, leaves crescent marks in Shouto's skin.
His voice shreds. His body twitches. His nipple burns under the attention and the heat from it streaks down into his core like a fuse lighting. He tries to pull away, arches his back to escape the intensity, but Shouto grips his hips tighter. Forces him down again. Makes him feel every inch of cock dragging against his insides as gravity pulls him deeper onto the shaft. Shouto keeps sucking harder, tongue working the peak, teeth grazing just enough to make it hurt.
The rhythm builds beneath him. Shouto starts rocking his hips upward, grinds up into Katsuki's cunt while his mouth stays locked to his chest. Each thrust lifts Katsuki slightly, makes his knees slide wider on the sheets. Katsuki's whole body jerks with every motion. He trembles in his thighs, muscles burning from the strain of holding himself up. His breath comes too fast, ragged in his throat. Slick gushes again from his cunt, drips down over Shouto's lap and soaks into the fabric of his boxers.
The suction intensifies.
Shouto groans against his skin, sends vibration sinking into the raw peak of Katsuki's nipple. The sound reverberates through sensitive tissue, makes Katsuki's toes curl. Then he switches. Drags his mouth across Katsuki's chest, wet and open, leaves a trail of saliva across heated skin. He finds the other nipple and bites down on it with the same ruthless attention. Katsuki cries out, broken, lurches his hips forward to escape the sensation. He's trapped. Shouto's hands hold him in place, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his hips hard enough to bruise.
His cunt clenches again around Shouto's cock, walls fluttering helplessly. He tightens his abs, tries to brace himself. He can't breathe right. Each inhale comes shallow, catches in his throat.
"I—Shou—fuck, I can't—I'm—"
Shouto doesn't respond. He flicks his tongue faster, works it over the tight bud in quick strokes. He thrusts his cock harder, drives up into Katsuki's cunt with more force. Every movement pulls another sound out of Katsuki, something wrecked. His body's lost rhythm now, twitches out of sync, rocked by overstimulation and pleasure and pressure that won't let up. He can feel sweat drip down his spine, can feel his skin flush hot all over.
Then it hits.
Another orgasm builds fast in his gut. Sharp enough to make his whole body seize. His walls clamp down hard, the grip on Shouto's cock violent. He snaps his head back, exposes the long line of his throat. He opens his mouth in a sob that comes out wordless.
He comes. It tears through him like lightning. His cunt pulses wet around Shouto's cock, muscles locking down in rhythmic spasms. His chest burns where Shouto's mouth keeps sucking like he's trying to leave bruises, like he wants to mark Katsuki from the inside out. Katsuki shudders through it, jerks his hips in helpless motions, loses his voice to noise. Slick spills across their thighs in a hot rush, floods out around Shouto's cock and runs down to soak the sheets beneath them.
Still, Shouto doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting up like Katsuki's body hasn't just broken again. He sucks hard around one nipple, creates a seal with his lips, presses his tongue flat against the peak, then circles it again. He works it over and over, alternates between sucking and licking and biting. Katsuki's whole chest feels raw, nerves rubbed to the edge, skin flushed red and aching. Each pull of Shouto's mouth sends sparks shooting down to his cunt, makes his oversensitive walls clench tighter.
Katsuki sobs. He clutches Shouto's shoulders and tries to lift himself. Tries to get off, to breathe, to escape. His legs have nothing left. The muscles shake and refuse to support his weight. His hips twitch in useless little jerks while Shouto holds him down and fucks him through every second of the aftermath. He grinds up into Katsuki's cunt, keeps the pressure constant, doesn't give him a moment to recover.
His cunt flutters helplessly around the intrusion, clenches and releases in erratic pulses. He contracts his stomach, tries to pull away from the sensations flooding his system. His voice has gone high, thin, filled with panic that borders on desperation. Tears streak down the heat of his cheeks, cut tracks through the flush staining his skin.
"Shouto—please—too much—I can't—"
Shouto lifts his head from Katsuki's chest. He releases the nipple with a wet pop, leaves it swollen and glistening with saliva. He looks up at Katsuki, takes in the tears, the flush, the way Katsuki's mouth hangs open as he gasps for air.
"Stay."
He leans forward again. Licks over the swollen nipple, drags his tongue across the sensitive peak. Slow. Reverent. Like he's savoring the taste of salt and sweat. He sinks his cock deeper again, angles his hips to drive in at a sharper angle. The head of his cock presses against something inside Katsuki that makes stars burst behind his eyelids.
Katsuki cries out. The sound breaks in his throat.
His body folds around the pressure, around the heat, around the mouth on his chest and the thrusts that won't stop and the grip that doesn't let him move. Shouto keeps his hips pinned down with both hands, fingers digging into soft flesh. Keeps his chest open and exposed, skin flushed and marked. His cunt keeps pulsing, twitching around Shouto's cock, dragging him toward another edge he's not ready to fall over. He can feel it building again, impossible, his body responding even though his mind screams that it's too much.
And Shouto watches him like he's never seen anything more beautiful. His eyes track every expression that crosses Katsuki's face, every tear that falls, every shudder that runs through his body.