Archive of Our Own

If Katsuki’s counting correctly – and he is, this math degree isn’t for show – he’s been attracted to a grand total of three people, and that’s only if his definition of attraction holds up, which. . .it probably doesn’t. After all, each of the three cases were so disparate, Katsuki can’t even begin to guess at a common thread.

The first person he was ever attracted to was Izuku. Maybe it wasn’t attraction, but Katsuki doesn’t know how to explain jerking off to the thought of Izuku sucking his dick, like, three times a week for the better part of ten years. Then he got over it, like a breeze hit him just the right way and brushed a plaguing leaf off his shoulder. Katsuki would still tumble in the sheets with Izuku, in particular if desperate times called for desperate measures, but he’d feel pretty awkward about it. There’s no other way to be after Katsuki checked his best friend’s dick for genital warts. The good news: no warts. The bad news: the moment Katsuki actually saw Izuku’s dick, he couldn’t jerk off to Izuku anymore. It felt weird.

The second person he could place was his math teacher in high school. Ms. Sugimoto was a young teacher when she took over the trigonometry class Katsuki placed into, and Katsuki liked how she explained math. Competency was hot. He put his all into every assignment, relished the confidence boost when she told him “well done!”, and sure, he thought it’d be kind of hot if she wanted to fuck him. That attraction may have only stuck because other people in his class whole-heartedly agreed that she was young and cute. Validation certainly got Katsuki’s wheels off the ground.

Which brings Katsuki around to the third person he’s ever felt attracted to, a solid few years since he’d felt much of anything for anyone, and just his luck, it’s some stupid tall unimpressed dude with the word SECURITY emblazoned across his chest. He uncrosses his arms as Katsuki and his friends approach the adult lounge’s entrance. With Mina dancing on her feet to get ahead and break the ice the way she so loves to do, Katsuki gets to take a good, long look at the guy who’s gonna check his ID. At first blush, he’s nothing special, but the longer Katsuki stares, the more interested he is. Even if he’s nothing special, he’s a lot hotter than the mind-numbing equations Katsuki glared at for the last four months.

College ain’t cheap, so he and his friends pregamed at Mina’s to save some money. That said, Katsuki’s already raring to go after a few shots. He doesn’t like dancing, but he likes watching, ragging on his friends, and playing billiards because he rocks at it. Plus, Katsuki’s getting free drinks tonight on Izuku’s dime because he defended his thesis all of five hours ago. The dork promised.

Because he’s still riding the high of his thesis defense, Katsuki decides he wants this guy’s attention, even if it’s just for a second, even if he doesn’t get the time of day. He just worked his ass off for sixteen weeks; he thinks he deserves to get a second look from someone. He’s one step closer to being a fucking doctor. The world should bow at his feet, in Katsuki’s not-so-humble opinion, but getting a twitch out of the kind-of hot bouncer would be good enough for Katsuki’s ego.

He could fall in line like his other friends and dig his ID out of his wallet to have it ready for the brick wall of a man blocking the door, but he decides to wait until the last minute to get his wallet out. As in, he waits until he’s toe to toe with the bouncer.

It turns out to be the right move. Katsuki gets a once-over for being the first one to stall the line. It’s a pretty unimpressed once-over, but still, Katsuki calls it a win. He knows better than anyone that a pissy expression can hide an awful lot of emotion.

“ID,” the man says with literally the deepest voice Katsuki’s ever heard in real life. Clear as a fucking bell, too.

Because his stomach decides to tighten in response to this guy’s bone-rattling voice, Katsuki’s fingers hesitate for a split second as he leafs through his wallet. He draws it out just because he likes the fact that the bouncer’s gaze is lingering on him, but eventually, the stalling’s just obnoxious. He produces his ID.

The bouncer shines a little flashlight over it before he surveys Katsuki’s face. Katsuki feels one of his eyebrows twitch under the scrutiny, and though he only holds the man’s attention for a few seconds, it’s enough for him to confirm he’s attracted to the big broad bouncer. Katsuki’s ID ends up back in his hands, the velvet rope gets unclipped for Katsuki to pass through, and the bouncer says, “Enjoy your evening.”

Maybe it’s just the sheer fucking relief of this semester being as good as over for him, but Katsuki’s first thought is that he’d enjoy his night a lot more if this guy sucked his dick. He’d say it, too, if it weren’t for the tittering group of friends waiting for him just inside the lounge.

He settles for another chance at standing out. “You enjoy yours, too,” Katsuki tells him, and he gets another millisecond of the man’s gaze, which feels like a bump of cocaine.

He walks backwards a few steps before he swings around to meet his friends. Izuku frowns past him at the bouncer. “Were you just hitting on him?” he asks Katsuki disapprovingly.

“A little,” Katsuki admits. Not that it went anywhere, but a little attention goes a long way for Katsuki. He’s not too bothered as he shoves Izuku’s head, roughhousing for the hell of it, and loudly complains about how drunk he isn’t. Doesn’t matter if he’s three sheets to the wind; Katsuki kicks ass at pool, and he’s gonna give everyone a run for their money.

;;

While he’s standing around waiting for Mina to take her turn, Katsuki wrestles with some invasive thoughts about how he’d like to see the bouncer bend over the table. Naked would be ideal, but Katsuki would settle for clothed. He’s never been much of an ass man. He’d still like to see it, and he thinks every one of his friends knows it. Katsuki’s glancing at the entrance every three seconds to see if he can catch the guy taking a break. Maybe he didn’t notice Katsuki hitting on him the first time. If he did, he obviously would have gotten Katsuki’s number.

Because he’s watching the door like a hawk, Katsuki clocks it the moment the bouncer ducks inside for a break. Katsuki straightens up as the guy leans over the bar to speak to the bartender.

One look at that nice, solid back, and Katsuki’s sold. He shoves his cue at Izuku and ignores his spluttering. His friends start griping right away, but Katsuki rolls his eyes like he doesn’t love the attention and says, “Chill out, idiots. I’ll be right back.”

“Get me a beer!” Hanta calls to Katsuki, so he waves a hand over his shoulder to prove he heard it. He hears Hanta wryly say, “He’s not gonna get me a beer,” and a chorus of laughter from his friends.

There’s not much room for Katsuki to lean against the bar next to the bouncer, but Katsuki’s never been afraid to take up space. “Hey,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Not interested,” the bouncer says without even glancing at Katsuki.

That won’t do. Katsuki rests his elbow on the bartop. “You’re not even gonna check me out before you reject me?” he demands. “I’m Bakugou.”

He swings his head to settle his gaze on Katsuki, but it’s just as dead-eyed and utterly fucking bored as it was checking Katsuki’s ID. “I’m Shinsou. And I’m still not interested. Flattered, though.”

Well, Katsuki can work with flattered. “Not into guys?” he asks, figuring Shinsou’s answer will give him an idea of just how much he is or isn’t willing to swing.

“Not into college students,” Shinsou corrects. When the bartender passes him a bottled water, his hands fucking dwarf it. The greedy little monster in Katsuki rubs its hands together, already hatching a plot. Katsuki watches him unscrew the cap and take a sip because being subtle never got him anywhere in life, and Shinsou’s jaw ticks when Katsuki’s attention doesn’t waver. Excitement flutters in his chest as Shinsou spares him another glance and asks, “How old do you think I am?”

Katsuki shrugs. “Not really worried about the age part,” he says honestly. He has boatloads of confidence even on a bad day, but liquor makes him twice as bold. That, and he’s seeking some uncomplicated pleasure after four months of hell. His advisor convinced him to invent new math. Game as Katsuki was for the challenge, it was a bitch and a half, and if he ever hears the name Fibonacci again, it’ll be too soon. “I’m more worried about the ‘if you like dudes’ part.”

The face before him is excruciatingly impassive, but Katsuki catches Shinsou fiddling with the bottle cap. It could be nothing. He could be contemplating giving Katsuki the time of day, though.

In pursuit of tipping the scales in his favor, Katsuki says, “I’m twenty-four.”

Shinsou’s eyes narrow the slightest bit. “You look younger.”

“Good genes. Wanna see my ID again?” Then a second thought hits him. “Must not be checking IDs too hard if you didn’t already know my age.”

“You were one of, like, fifteen people in line,” Shinsou says wryly. “Sorry I didn’t memorize your birthday.”

A glance at his hands tells Katsuki he’s still fidgeting with the bottle cap. This fish is still on the hook, then. Probably. Fucking hopefully. The suspicion and bickering is kind of getting Katsuki hot, so he decides to keep it coming. He leans into Shinsou’s space to ask, “Ain’t it supposed to be a compliment when a younger guy’s into you?”

Katsuki’s had no small amount of liquor. He probably smells like it, which probably isn’t all that enticing to an apparent older man who’s trying to be a fucking martyr, but Katsuki knows he runs warm, and he’s not afraid of a little skin on skin contact. So fuck it, he steps in close enough to say it a few inches away from Shinsou’s ear.

He hears it when the fucker stops breathing for a second. Katsuki feels like someone just pinned a gold star on his shirt, and he thinks his face must show it when he pulls away. He can’t help but tease and stick a little closer to Shinsou than strictly necessary. Shinsou’s got the barest hint of a beard growing in, like he shaved that morning, and Katsuki can smell the lotion he must have applied after. It’s nothing like Eijirou’s sneeze-inducing cologne. It kind of smells like roses. Katsuki would take a bite of this fucker’s jaw if only he’d loosen up.

“Not into college students, huh?” mocks Katsuki.

“Maybe I’m just not attracted to you and trying to let you down easy.” Shinsou takes another long sip of his water, but this time he holds Katsuki’s gaze. “You ever think of that?”

Katsuki hums. It’s probably too quiet for Shinsou to hear, so once again, Katsuki takes his chances and tilts his head to speak right into Shinsou’s ear and say, “I don’t believe you.”

Shinsou’s breath doesn’t catch this time, much to Katsuki’s dismay. Undeterred, Katsuki brushes his hand over Shinsou’s arm, and when Shinsou doesn’t shrug him off, he gets a nice, firm grip. “Nice forearms,” he adds.

He’s a little put off when Shinsou wrestles out of his grip and gently nudges Katsuki away, but the disappointment only lasts a second because he pulls back to see a blotchy flush crawling up Shinsou’s neck. Katsuki tries to catch his gaze, but Shinsou’s eyes flit away and around, seeking any focal point that isn’t Katsuki. He takes another small sip of his water. “I’m working.”

“Until when?” asks Katsuki.

Hilariously, the flush crawls just a little bit higher until it’s tinting Shinsou’s jaw. Katsuki promises himself he’ll bite it if he gets the chance. Pretty much the only thing that’s stopping him right then and there is the fact that Shinsou is working and might actually blow Katsuki off if he does something too risqué. “I’ve got another few hours,” Shinsou says finally, still playing noncommittal like he’s not flushed over a little half-assed compliment from Katsuki. He presses his lips together and seems to mull over something for a moment before he says, “I’m thirty seven.”

Katsuki nods without missing a beat. That’s not old to him. Shinsou seems incredulous for a millisecond before he schools his expression back into impassivity. Katsuki loathes it. He wants a reaction. He wants Shinsou to preen like a motherfucker because someone as hot as Katsuki’s into him. He still wants to snap his teeth at the fucker’s jaw, and he wonders how opposed Shinsou would be to some fervent heavy-petting in the nearest bathroom stall. Based on his shifty eyes, probably pretty opposed. That sucks. Plan B it is.

“Give me your number,” Katsuki says, shoving his cell phone into the scant space between them. Shinsou seems flustered over Katsuki just barely brushing his chest, which gets him outrageously fucking high. Fuck school, fuck math, fuck pool – all Katsuki wants to do is make this guy blush for the rest of his stupid fucking life. “I’m not sure if we’ll go somewhere else.”

Shinsou takes the phone and appears strangely grim as he enters his contact information. “I’m off at one,” he says as he passes the phone back. Katsuki takes special care to shower his hand with some unnecessary contact, and he likes the way Shinsou’s fingertips chase after his palm just the slightest bit. “If you’re still interested, just. . .text me, I guess.”

This fucker’s got no game. “Say it with some confidence, Eyebags,” Katsuki drawls, reaching up to poke the apple of Shinsou’s cheek. Eyebags or no eyebags, Katsuki’s gonna fuck him, but a little light bullying is Katsuki’s favorite way to flirt. He likes a little tug of war, and that’s why goosebumps break out across his arms when Shinsou bats his hand away, just peppery enough to count as a slap. Katsuki can’t help but grin, wide and smug like a cat that got the cream, and just to push Shinsou’s buttons, he leans over and plants a quick kiss on his jaw. He parts his lips just enough to keep things interesting. “I’ll text you.”

Unless Katsuki’s imagining things, Shinsou leans into the heat of his mouth harder than necessary. Katsuki’s sharp grin is unshakeable as he withdraws from the bar to be on his way. “I don’t believe you,” Shinsou says, echoing Katsuki’s words from earlier, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that tells Katsuki he’s being honest.

Katsuki rolls his eyes to show how boring the lack of confidence is, even if he kind of likes it. After all, if Shinsou’s not confident, it’s because he thinks Katsuki’s super fucking hot. “I’ll text you,” he repeats, flinging a lazy wave over his shoulder, and then he goes back to the pool table. Everyone is conspicuously not staring at him, which means they all just watched Katsuki shoot his shot and get nothing but fucking net.

He snatches his cue back from Izuku and ruffles the nerd’s hair. “I’m getting laid,” he announces to his friends, who undoubtedly saw that coming from a mile away. “He’s thirty seven and thought that was old.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Mina says with a few bats of her eyelashes, like Katsuki just announced he’s courting a fair maiden rather than fucking the bouncer who let them in. “Did you build up his confidence and convince him or just yank him by the collar?”

“More the second one,” Katsuki decides after a moment of thought. Then he wonders if Shinsou would like to be yanked by his collar. Now that’s a thought.

“Hey,” Hanta says with a frown after everyone’s done applauding Katsuki for a job well-done. “Where’s my beer?”

“My bad,” Katsuki says carelessly. “I was trying to fuck the bouncer, not the bartender.”

He gets his friends to laugh, which fluffs up his confidence that much more. A glance at the bar tells him Shinsou’s already back outside, but Katsuki’s not too worried. He’ll text him later.

;;

Shinsou is a god awful texter. If Katsuki wasn’t so determined to fuck him, he’d block the man’s number and call it a night.

Hey, it’s Katsuki was the first thing Katsuki sent. Short and simple.

from the bar? was Shinsou’s almost instantaneous reply, at 1:01AM, like he was standing around waiting for Katsuki to text. That feels good. Katsuki’s chilling at an arcade bar with his friends, but he was done beating everyone’s ass at Mario Kart the moment he realized Shinsou’s shift was about to end. Katsuki’s one-track mind was always his number one asset, and he sure as shit wasn’t gonna let a hot thirtysomething with huge hands give him the slip.

Then the fucker double-texted and said i don’t remember your name, sorry

Katsuki scoffed at the message, ignoring it entirely, and asked Are you off work yet or not?

kind of Shinsou responded. And then he said nothing else.

Katsuki stares down at the message he received three minutes ago at this point. How the hell could someone be kind of off work? Katsuki intentionally sent a yes or no question, and this dumbass who’s seemingly determined not to get himself laid still came up with a non-answer.

He waits for four minutes to pass before he gives up on Shinsou sending something more helpful.

We’re at an arcade three blocks away Katsuki tells him, since Shinsou’s apparently not gonna ask how he can find Katsuki.

oh ok Shinsou says lamely, and Katsuki takes a deep, deep breath and reminds himself that this man is very hot. Kind of painfully hot, actually. Katsuki’s been fantasizing for the better part of three hours, and he’s damn near desperate to know if his fantasies are anything close to reality. Otherwise he wouldn’t bother.

But Katsuki is going to bother with Shinsou because he’s tall and gets flustered when Katsuki compliments him. Besides, he tutors part-time. He knows how to coach people.

So come meet me he texts Shinsou. Then he drops his location and waits.

Shinsou takes a while but replies to the texts with a thumbs-up emoji, so damn unnatural it makes Katsuki huff air through his nose. He orders a glass of water from the bar. He’s little more than buzzed at this point, but sex dehydrates the hell out of him. He hasn’t had much sex over the course of the past two semesters thanks to his high-level, ultra-theoretical mathematics courses that all but sucked the life out of him. Katsuki majored in math because he liked it when it was just equations, theorems, rules and exceptions. Majoring in it basically meant ripping the back panel off and seeing some of the worst cable management of his life, but Katsuki liked challenges, so he put his head down and spent two years trying to untangle that mess. After writing a thesis that literally proved an extension of a relatively young theorem – ta-da, new math – Katsuki’s pretty sure he can rightfully call his mess untangled. All that hard work cost him his sex life, though, and now that Katsuki’s free from the clutches of his advisor, he wants to crush this bartender beneath him like a soda can. That’s the plan after he bites a chunk out of his jaw. Oh, and Katsuki’s kind of interested in sucking on his fingers, but if it doesn’t happen, he won’t be heartbroken.

He’s lost in his admittedly lewd thoughts watching Mina cackle like a maniac as she chases Eijirou’s tail down the formidable Rainbow Road when Shinsou appears next to him. Katsuki doesn’t startle, but he is faintly relieved to see him. Shinsou’s acting so lukewarm, Katsuki figured there was a nonzero chance he’d bail.

Katsuki and his friends are tucked into a side room with a couch all to themselves, so they whip their heads around to check out the newcomer. “Oooh, the bouncer!” Mina says cheerfully, waggling her fingertips. “You can’t be a day over twenty, can you?”

“Fuck off, Mina,” Katsuki says heatlessly.

“Hey, you’re not fucking him yet; he’s fair game,” Hanta says in defense of Mina. He gives Shinsou a polite nod afterwards, like he wasn’t just talking about him like a piece of meat. “‘Sup, dude. Nice to meet you. I’m Sero.”

After giving introductions all around, Katsuki feels like he’s conducted the minimum amount of socialization required before he goes home with someone, so he gives Izuku Shinsou’s number and feels strangely warm when Shinsou reaches over to add his address into the contact page Izuku’s setting up. “I live nearby,” he tells Katsuki in an undertone. “Unless you’re allergic to cats.”

Katsuki’s not allergic to cats. He is, however, very turned on by Shinsou suddenly taking some initiative, so he just hums along and tells the nerd they’re going to Shinsou’s place. His friends catcall him as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads for the exit, and though Shinsou needs to duck his head, a little harassed, Katsuki holds his chin high. “You walk to work?” Katsuki wonders after they’re on the sidewalk.

“Usually, yeah. It’s not far,” Shinsou says as they fall into step. He looks at Katsuki out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t really know what you’re thinking, but I have, uh, supplies.”

Though he’s interested to hear exactly what kind of supplies Shinsou has, Katsuki’s also very aware that they’re far from the only people meandering around at this hour, so he resolves to ask later. “Sure.”

Katsuki isn’t interested in talking about what he’s into in public, not that the list is particularly long or raunchy. He likes pushing people around, pretty much as much as they’ll let him get away with, and he likes when people push him back. He likes getting head a lot more than he likes giving it, but Katsuki pretty much operates along the lines of I’ll see how I feel. Sometimes he thinks he’s unequivocally not into something, but then he sleeps with someone who makes him think, Sure, why not. That’s more or less how he confirmed he liked fucking guys in the first place.

The next time they’re stuck at a timed crosswalk, Katsuki turns to stare at Shinsou. He doesn’t feel any need to gaze upon him sneakily, so he doesn’t bother; he just stands there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his well-made jeans, and gives Shinsou a good, honest look.

Maybe it’s just because Katsuki’s already got a taste of what it’s like to fluster Shinsou, but he’s pretty hot to Katsuki. He’s a head taller with broad shoulders, great posture, and the barest hint of a stomach on him. Katsuki adds it to the list of things he plans to bite tonight. Then he notices Shinsou’s ears are a little red, so he adds those, too. He obviously notices Katsuki’s attention, but he’s not bothered enough to tell him to stop.

For the express purpose of checking out Shinsou’s ass, Katsuki lets Shinsou walk ahead of him once their timer to cross the street starts. Shinsou flicks an amused glance over his shoulder, but he doesn’t call Katsuki on it, probably because he knows his jeans are so baggy they don’t give away shit. Katsuki sighs and hotfoots it to overtake Shinsou before the next corner.

It’s stupid as hell, but it seems like they’re trying to walk faster than each other every few steps. They’re speed walking like a pair of elderly people on a brisk morning for no fucking reason besides that Katsuki needs to win, so he breaks into a jog and raises his eyebrows at Shinsou to taunt him. “Are we racing?” he asks gamely.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Shinsou points out, but he starts jogging alongside Katsuki.

Katsuki memorized Shinsou’s address when he typed it for Izuku, so he takes a moment to key it into his maps app. Easiest path he’s ever seen – straight ahead, take a right at the convenience store, apartment building two doors down. Katsuki’ll make him eat dust. “I do now,” Katsuki announces without breaking step, and then he stuffs his phone into his pocket and sprints.

Based on Shinsou’s baffled expression three minutes later, he wasn’t expecting Katsuki to take a little race so seriously. Katsuki’s pleasantly surprised to see he was only a few steps behind Katsuki, though.

“You work out?” he asks, and he can hear how pleased he is by the tone of his voice. Neither of them are breathing all that hard, but the shot of adrenaline makes Katsuki want to do things to Shinsou, so he motions impatiently at the building door.

“A few times a week,” Shinsou says as he buzzes them in. “You?” He doesn’t even hold the door open for Katsuki, the asshole.

“Yeah, few times a week,” Katsuki says to Shinsou’s back. Katsuki follows him upstairs anyway. He’s starting to get the sense that Shinsou’s the kind of guy who pushes back, and Katsuki’s chest can’t help but flutter. He likes a little danger.

Chasing that danger, Katsuki steps indecently close to Shinsou while he unlocks his door, and his body hums with pleasure when Shinsou leans into him. He’s big and wide and sturdy, outrageously steady on his feet, and it’s making Katsuki feel crazy.

“That’s Kiki,” he says as he waves Katsuki in, pointing out a disgruntled looking tabby on his couch. “She’s not very friendly.”

“That’s fine,” Katsuki says easily, but he gives the cat a cursory glance as she dives under the TV stand to hide from an unwelcome guest. “Kiki’s not who I’m interested in.”

Shinsou sweeps by him, and though it’s there and gone in a flash, Katsuki catches a bit of amusement playing on his lips. “Oh?”

Katsuki’s not sure where Shinsou’s headed, but he snags his wrist and drags him back to where Katsuki’s standing. He took a moment at the arcade to rinse the night of drinking off his face, and it’s possible Shinsou needs to rinse a night of work off before they go anywhere with this, but Katsuki just wants an appetizer. He trails his hand up Shinsou’s arm, trying to decide what kind of mood he’s in, and finally, he drapes Shinsou’s wrists over his shoulders, clamps his hands on Shinsou’s waist, and gives him an expectant look.

Shinsou doesn’t act on the invitation, not right away, but the flush tears up his neck again. That wasn’t on Katsuki’s bite list, but he has no trouble tacking it on at the last minute, so he buries his face in Shinsou’s neck, breathes him in for a beat, and gives him a nice, bitey kiss there.

Shinsou’s arms settle on his shoulders, just a little heavier than they were a second ago, and Katsuki hears him sigh. It’s quiet, almost like he tried to suppress it, but a little thrill shoots through Katsuki anyway.

“You’re fuckin’ hot,” Katsuki tells him, not really giving a shit if that sounds stupid or desperate, because Shinsou’s skin tastes faintly like sweat and Katsuki’s in the mood to drink it. He moves to an unpilfered section of Shinsou’s neck to get another taste.

To his surprise, Shinsou lets Katsuki kiss and bite to his heart’s content, though he does shrug at some point to get Katsuki’s attention and says, “Don’t mark me.”

Katsuki won’t since he asked, but Shinsou keeps shivering every time he suckles at his skin for so much as a millisecond. “Seems like you want me to bite you,” Katsuki can’t help but point out. He’s smug; who wouldn’t be with a good-looking guy gasping and trembling in their arms?

Shinsou presses his lips together, potentially robbing Katsuki of another sigh, so he decides to give Shinsou’s lips some attention, too. He can’t press them together if he’s kissing Katsuki, after all.

Katsuki doesn’t consider himself to be a particularly skilled kisser. He thinks he’s good at making out with people’s bodies, and he’s decent enough at head to get orgasms for his trouble, but he doesn’t really see the appeal of standing around and stuffing his tongue in someone’s mouth. He far prefers the tease of simple open-mouthed kisses, hot and wet and ripe with potential, so that’s what he gives Shinsou.

After leading things for about ten seconds there, Katsuki’s pretty interested in getting Shinsou on the nearest mattress, but before he can mention it, Shinsou cradles the back of Katsuki’s skull, tips his head backwards, and gives him an outrageously deep kiss. It’s the first time someone’s tongue-fucked his mouth with such dedication, and Katsuki’s equal parts disgusted and horny over it. He lets Shinsou keep at it because he can’t tell if he likes it or not, but finally he tears away, wipes his mouth on Shinsou’s shoulder, and says, “Ugh.”

For a moment, he worries that falls under the category of not-so-sexy responses, but Shinsou just laughs. And then he grabs Katsuki’s chin in one hand and does it again.

Katsuki doesn’t really like it any better the second time, but he does like Shinsou snatching him by the jaw and putting him in his place, so he kisses back and digs his fingers into the dip of Shinsou’s spine. He’s breathing so heavily through his nose, he’s kind of embarrassed by it. As mediocre as the physical sensation of Shinsou’s tongue is, Katsuki feels like Shinsou’s trying to fucking swallow him, and that gets him rock-hard in about ten seconds flat. Shinsou works a thigh between his knees, so he clearly notices.

His grip on Katsuki’s chin loosens, and instead he trails down to trail his fingers down Katsuki’s windpipe. It sends an unexpected shiver through Katsuki. The moment he realizes the tides have very much turned in Shinsou’s favor, he pops up onto his tiptoes to make himself taller and shoves Shinsou by the shoulders.

“What do you want?” Shinsou asks as he catches Katsuki by the waist. He presses a demanding kiss to Katsuki’s lips and starts walking him backwards, sneaking his hands up Katsuki’s shirt all the while. It’s exactly the heavy-petting Katsuki was hoping for back at the lounge, so he reaches over the back of his head to tug his shirt off. Shinsou stops shoving him backwards and pauses to strip his shirt off, too.

“Don’t steal my fuckin’ thunder,” gripes Katsuki, jabbing Shinsou in the stomach. Like Katsuki guessed, he’s soft around the middle, but his shoulders show all the signs of someone who takes great care of his body. Katsuki would probably look pretty similar if he indulged in dessert more often.

Shinsou laughs in his face and keeps shepherding Katsuki towards his bedroom. “What, only one of us can be naked at a time? I don’t think that’s how this works.” The backs of Katsuki’s knees brush against Shinsou’s mattress, but Katsuki resists and holds himself ramrod straight when Shinsou tries to push him down. The fucker rolls his eyes at Katsuki’s stubbornness. “Thought I stole your thunder?” he mocks, smoothing a hand over Katsuki’s pectoral muscle. “I was gonna make it up to you.”

Katsuki hums an acknowledgement. The way Shinsou’s touching him makes him feel curious enough to touch Shinsou the same way, so he trails his fingers through Shinsou’s semi-patchy chest hair and slides up to get a grip on his shoulders. They’re good shoulders, nice and strong, and Katsuki thinks if he has to look up and see those, he probably wouldn’t be too miffed.

Right around the time he thinks that, Shinsou gives him one hard push. Katsuki could fight some more, but he lets himself fall back on his elbows and scowls at Shinsou where he stands radiating self-satisfaction.

“I don’t let one-night stands fuck me,” Katsuki announces before Shinsou gets any big ideas.

Shinsou seems unbothered with his eyes roving all over Katsuki’s body. He lingers at Katsuki’s waist, probably checking out the tent in his jeans, so Katsuki does him a favor and unlatches his belt.

The bastard looks him right in the eye and unlatches his own belt.

“Copycat,” sneers Katsuki. He can admit it; he’s a little miffed the fucker stole his thunder again. When does Katsuki get to lie back and be hot while Shinsou lusts over him? He figured it wouldn’t be a tall order with how flustered the fucker got at the bar, but maybe public displays of affection just get to him. There’s no way for Katsuki to replicate that here. Shinsou copies him again when he unbuttons his jeans, so Katsuki kicks him in the hip. “Quit it.”

“Just keeping us on equal footing,” Shinsou says mildly. His mouth is twitching. Apparently he’s enjoying fucking with Katsuki. Katsuki wishes he didn’t like it. Instead of shedding more articles of clothing in sync, Shinsou sets a knee on the bed and seats himself on top of Katsuki’s dick. It doesn’t feel great at first, so Katsuki shoves his hand in his pants to position himself a little better for grinding and pauses to give himself a few strokes just to tease. To his utter fucking dismay, Shinsou mirrors him.

“You’re annoying,” Katsuki tells him point-blank. He means it, too. Unfortunately Shinsou seems to think Katsuki’s consternation is nothing but funny because he drops down to his elbows, presses Katsuki flat against the mattress, and brings their foreheads together while he gives Katsuki a pretty measly roll of his hips. Katsuki scrunches his nose and grabs Shinsou’s sides to push him and pull him until it feels the way Katsuki likes it. Once Shinsou grinds down on him with the perfect amount of pressure, thanks to Katsuki’s careful positioning, he tips his head back and lets Shinsou press hot, fervent kisses to his neck.

He brings his teeth into the mix when he’s mouthing at Katsuki’s windpipe, and he hums before he can think twice about it. Shinsou seems to like the noise enough to make out with Katsuki again, and Katsuki lets Shinsou have at it, too focused on getting handfuls of Shinsou’s hips and guiding him along.

Shinsou tears their mouths apart with a squelch that sounds unappetizing to Katsuki’s ears, but it makes Shinsou press their foreheads together even harder. He breathes out shakily and reaches back to squeeze one of Katsuki’s wrists. “Wait,” he tells him breathlessly. “Just. . .give me a second.”

Katsuki rolls his hips up, listens to Shinsou’s breath rattle in throat again, and decides to ask, “Can you come like this?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Shinsou plants his hand on the center of Katsuki’s chest to keep him from arching up again. “Seriously, stop.”

Katsuki can hardly see his face in the low lighting of Shinsou’s room, but he knows this much; he has absolutely no goddamn problem with Shinsou coming in his pants like a horny teenager. He’d actually kill to see it – or feel it, whatever – so he knocks Shinsou’s hand aside and grinds their dicks together with abandon. All of one solid jolt of pleasure later, Shinsou knocks him flat again.

Unable to withhold a cranky groan, Katsuki digs his fingers into Shinsou’s lower back until he takes the hint and sets his elbows on either side of Katsuki’s head. If Shinsou’s gonna be a bitch about it, Katsuki won’t press, but it’s damn annoying.

As if to placate him, Shinsou mouths at Katsuki’s jaw and says, “I don’t wanna come like that.”

“Okay, got it,” Katsuki says rather grouchily.

“Are you mad at me?” Shinsou mocks with a thread of amusement. Katsuki doesn’t like his tone, so he decides to ignore the question. Plus, Shinsou’s lips just brushed behind Katsuki’s ear, and it feels like heaven, sending a tingly wave of heat across Katsuki’s scalp. He hooks an arm around the back of Shinsou’s neck to keep him close. “Don’t be mad.”

Though he’s a little ashamed to acknowledge it, Shinsou speaking right against his ear made his dick jump in his pants. They seem to be trading off the upper hand every other minute, but Katsuki’s too weak to shove Shinsou away when he says more, his breath close enough to tickle. “I don’t wanna waste it,” Shinsou tells him, his voice oddly soft, oddly contemplative, and incredibly fucking hot. “Let me make you come first.”

Katsuki’s never been so turned on he feels it in his fucking throat, but there’s a first time for everything. He thinks he’d agree to an awful lot with a voice like Shinsou’s in his ear, deep enough to rattle Katsuki’s bones and crisp like a clean break. “Fine,” Katsuki tries to spit, but it comes out somewhere between a sigh and a hum. Not his best work. Shinsou chuckles against his ear, though, so – shit. Maybe his best work of all time.

Shinsou sits back on Katsuki’s lap and throws his ass down almost casually, like that’s not rocking the fuck out of Katsuki’s world. “Got any fantasies?” Shinsou asks. The question comes out absurdly neutral.

“You coming in your pants,” Katsuki lies, mostly just to complain. Shinsou just hums and keeps teasing like he’s riding Katsuki, and honestly, that’s the only image coming to mind. That, and Shinsou brushing his knuckles over Katsuki’s throat for a half-second earlier made the image of getting choked the fuck out flit through his mind, but that’s probably just some lingering passive death wishes after spending four months staring at one goddamn equation. He can’t quite eke that out, though. He leafs through all the shit that popped into his head at the lounge. “Thought about fucking your face.”

Shimmying down the bed and pausing to give Katsuki’s cock a nice, long squeeze, Shinsou drawls, “Sounds fun.” He reaches beneath his bed and tosses a condom on Katsuki’s chest. “Tell me more.”

“Why? Running out of ideas?” Katsuki snaps as he strips off his jeans. He knows it’s not particularly sexy of him to pause and fold his pants, but he does. Katsuki can wear a wrinkled shirt all day. Wrinkled pants, though – that’s just frumpy. He sets them neatly on the floor and scowls when Shinsou flicks on his bedside lamp. “What?”

“You’re so defensive,” laughs Shinsou, kneeling on the ground between Katsuki’s bare thighs. He starts with a good grip on each of Katsuki’s ankles then slides his hands up a little at a time, massaging all the muscles Katsuki works so hard on. Since he’s getting attention, Katsuki only has to pump his dick a few times to get it nice and hard for Shinsou’s mouth. Well, for the condom first, then for Shinsou’s mouth, but all in due time. “I just wanted to see you more. You’re cute.”

Like a good sport, Shinsou parts his lips when Katsuki taps the head of his dick against Shinsou’s mouth. The tease of heat feels great, but being called hot, sexy, or even cool would do a hell of a lot more for his ego than being referred to like a stuffed animal. Katsuki wants to bitch at him to find a new compliment, but it seems counterproductive since he’s about to stuff his cock in the guy’s mouth. Maybe later.

The first time Katsuki fucks deep enough into Shinsou’s mouth to trigger his gag reflex, he takes his hand off the back of Shinsou’s head to let him rest. Before he can get far, Shinsou snaps his hand out of the air and returns it to its resting place. He pulls off for just long enough to say, “It’s fine; I’ll tap out if I need to.”

That’s all the permission Katsuki needs to stop holding back. He’s fucking entranced by the man between his legs. Turning on the lamp was an awesome fucking idea. It lets Katsuki see the flush on Shinsou’s cheeks and the way his eyes squeeze shut when he’s trying to focus. It lets Katsuki see Shinsou’s fingers digging into Katsuki’s thighs, leaving indentations of his fingernails. He can’t point to any one thing pushing him over the edge, but he knows he’s making a valiant attempt to tear Shinsou’s hair out when he comes with his heel digging into Shinsou’s back and the head of his dick completely enveloped in the beautiful, shuddering heat of Shinsou’s throat.

Katsuki’s pretty much mastered the art of coming silently, at first because he lived in dorm rooms but these days it’s just because he thinks moaning is tacky. He tries to draw in deep breaths and release them slowly, but he came harder than he has in months. Masturbation just doesn’t hit the same. He shivers so hard his teeth chatter when Shinsou tongues the inside of his thigh, and he bends his knee towards his chest to escape the sensation.

It didn’t cross his mind that a move like that would bare even more of his skin to Shinsou. Katsuki startles when Shinsou seals his hot, wet mouth against the back of Katsuki’s thigh, low enough to get an accidental taste of his asscheek. It takes Katsuki a moment to realize it’s not so incidental because Shinsou kisses lower and lower.

Katsuki doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, but he has to say something. “Wait, I –”

“Can I?” Shinsou interrupts, muttering against his skin, and Katsuki’s so turned on he could weep. He wants to say no, he wants to say yes, and he’s embarrassed over either answer, any answer. He’s embarrassed Shinsou even wants to kiss him there at all.

Shinsou’s hands are gently nudging him to turn over, but Katsuki holds still and says, “I’ve never done that. I don’t know how it – or how I. . .” Katsuki can’t even figure out what to say. He pinches the condom off his soft dick and holds it in the air like an idiot. In the end, Shinsou takes it from him to tie it off and toss it somewhere because Katsuki can’t think a fucking thought. He feels like his brain needs a jump start.

Not helping him clear his head in the slightest, Shinsou bends over Katsuki’s body to press their foreheads together. He smells like condoms do, which isn’t Katsuki’s favorite thing in the world, but he only sticks around for a split second before he kisses across Katsuki’s face and sucks on his earlobe. In that moment, all Katsuki can do is shake, enveloped in warmth and satisfied from a stellar orgasm with Shinsou murmuring reassurances in his ear. “You don’t have to do anything,” Shinsou tells him, grabbing a big fat handful of Katsuki’s ass and kneading it so hard it hurts. Katsuki squirms, but he can’t tell if he’s trying to press into the touch or pull away from it. “I just want to. Can I?”

Katsuki’s not capable of saying no when Shinsou sounds so intent, so he just hums an agreement and feels like someone punched the breath out of him when Shinsou wastes no time flipping him over like he’s nothing but a fucking pancake.

“What’re you studying?” Shinsou asks, so monotone and casual it takes Katsuki out of the sex for a second.

He can’t help but huff a semi-hysterical laugh. “The fuck are you asking me that for?”

Unrepentant, Shinsou squeezes Katsuki’s ass, and his hands are so big and warm, Katsuki feels the insane urge to bite down on something. He’s never been so horny he felt it in his fucking teeth. “You’re built. I was just wondering if you were a jock.”

Katsuki snorts lightly. “Not a jock. I just defended my mathematics thesis.”

“So you’re a nerd?” demands Shinsou incredulously, still palming Katsuki’s ass like he’s getting paid per second. “That’s not fair. Most people only get one of those.”

He’s not the first person to say that to Katsuki, to say it’s no fair he has brains and brawn, like he didn’t work his ass off to cobble together and keep both of those things, but he’s the first person to say it while he’s kissing down Katsuki’s spine. That has the unique effect of keeping Katsuki from prickling. The moment Shinsou exhales into the dip of Katsuki’s spine, he feels like he’s gonna throw up from anticipation. The way he arches into Shinsou’s touch when he spreads Katsuki’s ass cheeks makes him feel like an animal but he can’t do anything but bury his flushed face in Shinsou’s comforter and hold his breath. Once the surprise passes, Katsuki’ll be fine. Once he gets used to how it feels to be touched in some new way, everything will even out, and it’ll just feel good the way all sex does.

Except it doesn’t even out, not even a little. Katsuki feels like his whole body’s on fire, every one of his nerves sending off a thousand different signals. It’s too much to process. He hears himself gasping, and he hates how it sounds, but he can’t stop. Shinsou’s mouth is hot like a furnace. Katsuki feels dirty. Katsuki feels really fucking sexy. When Shinsou sneaks a hand beneath his stomach, encouraging Katsuki to grind back on his face to his heart’s desire, Katsuki snatches up the offer. It makes no fucking sense that Shinsou’s happily burying his face in Katsuki’s ass. Katsuki doesn’t even know his first name. Katsuki doesn’t know anything besides the molten, wet slide of Shinsou’s tongue all over his asshole. Katsuki’s fucking covered in an uncomfortable amount of spit. He reaches back blindly, not really sure what he’s reaching for, but he finds Shinsou’s hand and squeezes it so hard the joints creak.

Finally, Shinsou pulls away, smearing a few messy kisses over Katsuki’s ass and lower back. Katsuki’s bereft and relieved at the same time. Shinsou didn’t indulge for more than five minutes, yet Katsuki feels like he got struck by fucking lightning.

“I know I can’t fuck you,” Shinsou rasps, running his hands all over Katsuki’s back and giving his shoulders a good squeeze. At the sound of his voice, Katsuki presses his face so hard into the mattress he worries he’ll dislocate his nose. “But can I pretend? Can I just. . .?” Shinsou trails off and shuffles up the bed to rest his cock in the cleft of Katsuki’s ass.

After all of that, Katsuki doesn’t think he’d bat an eye if Shinsou demanded to fuck him. He just wants to lie there, boneless and practically melting into Shinsou’s mattress, and he wants Shinsou to do whatever he wants. Katsuki doesn’t have any more schoolwork to do anyway. He can just live in Shinsou’s bed like a fucking plaything, and Shinsou can do anything he likes, anytime, especially if he feels like putting his mouth on Katsuki’s ass again. He feels like Shinsou peeled open his chest and licked his heart. He feels like he wouldn’t say no to anything.

Unsettled by his own thoughts, Katsuki just grunts an agreement and sinks his hands into his hair when Shinsou shuffles around for some lube, idly grinding against Katsuki’s ass.

Katsuki feels his inhibitions slip to the wayside even more as Shinsou pretends to fuck him. When the head of Shinsou’s cock skips across his hole, he groans into the mattress and presses back into the feeling. No way in hell is Shinsou going to magically slip in, but Katsuki likes imagining what might happen if he did. He groans again when Shinsou pauses to massage his dick against Katsuki’s rim, so hard and slow, Katsuki really fucking thinks about throwing caution to the wind for a second. He’s never made so much noise in someone’s bed, but no one’s ever eaten his ass before either. Katsuki thinks a little loss of inhibition is reasonable after doing something so damn dirty, so damn intimate, with a stranger.

“Shh, shh,” Shinsou says when Katsuki starts shaking like a fucking leaf, feeling like he’s gonna come again from the sensation of being pinned between Shinsou’s mattress and Shinsou’s dick. Every move he makes feels like too much. “I’ll do it. I’ll get you. Just wait.”

It takes Shinsou another twenty seconds of fucking between Katsuki’s cheeks for him to come, covering Katsuki’s back in hot streaks of semen. He’s hardly worked himself through his orgasm when he flips Katsuki over again, sheets be damned, and jerks him off like his life depends on it. Katsuki feels like his joints are gelatin. Shinsou hunches over to mouth Katsuki’s chest while he strokes him hard and fast, and Katsuki gasps and clutches at Shinsou’s hair when he feels a wave of pleasure so intense it shocks him out of his body for a second. Shinsou’s not shy about using his teeth. Katsuki’s not shy about pressing into it like a whore. After what Shinsou did to him, Katsuki can’t muster so much as an ounce of shame.

His second orgasm is so intense, Katsuki feels it in the roots of his teeth. He feels it in his fingertips, in the space behind his knees, and in the point of his spine. Fuck me, Katsuki wants to tell Shinsou as every one of his vertebrae melt out of his body, like ice on a hot plate, and he’d probably shoot himself in the head if he had to hear a recording of whatever sound he just made. Forget what I said. Take me.

Katsuki’s inhibitions might be good as gone, but his nerve endings have seemingly doubled, and he can feel every fucking molecule of come sticking to his lower back. He gives Shinsou’s hair a tug to get his attention, since he seems happy to keep mouthing at Katsuki’s chest like it’s not rubbed raw already. “I need a shower.”

Shinsou hums along, but he rips himself out of Katsuki’s grasp and dips down just enough to lick up some of Katsuki’s come. Katsuki can’t help but wrinkle his nose, but Shinsou just chuckles at the look on his face and gives his thigh a firm slap. “Who says I’m done?” he demands to know. The words come out so emotionless, Katsuki can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Come to think of it, Katsuki can’t tell if he wants Shinsou to be joking or not. He’s bone-tired. His legs tremble from all the tensing and writhing. He’s not even sure he has the energy to stand upright in the shower, much less perform again, but Katsuki can’t quell a flicker of interest as Shinsou pushes off the bed and putters around his bedroom.

It’s kind of hard to believe that the man prancing around his bedroom naked is the same man who blushed because Katsuki gave him some special attention at the lounge. Katsuki decides to voice his thoughts and tells him, “You’re kinda fucking nasty.”

Shinsou tosses a folded towel on the bed beside Katsuki’s feet. “I like fucking people up,” he says easily as he rakes his hair out of his face. He doesn’t seem to notice how effortlessly fucking sexy a move like that is, but Katsuki’s not gonna be the one to tell him. He just came twice in the guy’s bed. Shinsou can connect the dots himself. “Especially when I’m not gonna see them again. It’s fun.”

The twinge of disappointment makes Katsuki scowl at Shinsou’s ceiling, so he snatches up the towel and shuts himself in the shower room once Shinsou points it out. His chest is mottled red in the mirror, the simple side effect of Shinsou’s teeth and hint of facial hair, and Katsuki kind of doesn’t want to look himself in the eye. He hops in the shower instead.

When he comes back to Shinsou’s bedroom, he finds the comforter was switched out for an unsullied blanket. Shinsou hardly spares him a glance as he gestures at a short stack of clothes on the bed, just sweats and a t-shirt by the look of things. “You can stay if you want. It’s late.”

Without another word, Shinsou leaves to take a shower himself, so Katsuki presses his lips together, weighs his options, and determines he’d rather not subject himself to the cost of a taxi home. Defending his thesis is more or less the last step to get him cleared for graduation, so hopefully Katsuki’ll have a full-time job sooner rather than later, but for now he’s still a student with terribly shallow pockets. He texts Izuku to let him know he’s gonna crash at Shinsou’s, and then he takes advantage of the fact that Shinsou’s out of the room, plucks the wallet off his dresser, and takes a nice, clear picture of Shinsou’s ID for Izuku. Just in case he kills me or something I guess Katsuki says. It’s mostly a joke.

On a whim, he thumbs through Shinsou’s wallet and finds a faded transit card, a few credit cards, a couple thousand yen in cash, and a condom. Pretty standard inventory. That somewhat reassures Katsuki that he’s not about to cozy up in a murderer’s bed.

And cozy up in Shinsou’s bed Katsuki does. He’s fucking wiped. Sections of his skin feel overly sensitive from all the undivided attention, so he doesn’t bother with the shirt Shinsou laid out for him. His teeth are unbrushed, which makes Katsuki feel distinctly itchy, but he’ll survive. The piss-poor spare pillow needs a good few punches before it’s worthy of Katsuki’s time.

He’s already dozing by the time Shinsou reenters the bedroom, so he blindly tosses his phone across the bed and mutters, “Charger.”

“Yes, sir,” Shinsou says with a thread of amusement. Katsuki hears him digging through his drawers. “Can I get you anything else?”

Katsuki sniffs and says, “A glass of water.” It sounds like Shinsou’s making fun of him, but he’d look like an asshole if he denied Katsuki that much.

He must doze off again because he wakes up to the thud of a glass on the bedside table. Blinking bleary eyes, Katsuki pushes himself upright to give his desert-dry throat a little relief. It’s stellar water, nice and cold, like Shinsou has a fridge dispenser. Katsuki’s envious.

Shinsou crouches down next to Katsuki and studies him for a few long seconds. With a scowl, Katsuki sips his water. He likes the attention, but he doesn’t want Shinsou to know that. Especially since the fucker already decided they’re never seeing each other again.

Finally, Shinsou tilts his head the slightest bit and asks, “How do you take your coffee?”

A little surprised Shinsou isn’t dedicated to the idea of kicking Katsuki to the curb first thing in the morning, Katsuki tries to play it cool with a careless shrug. “Black.” He pauses for a beat. “I can’t drink it on an empty stomach, though.”

“Needy guy, aren’t you?” drawls Shinsou, but the corner of his mouth’s twitching. Katsuki has to work to deepen his scowl and mask the fact that he wants to smile back. “How do you like your eggs, then?”

“Cooked by me,” Katsuki says plainly, and turns the question right back around on Shinsou. “How do you like your eggs?”

The crinkles that form beside Shinsou’s eyes make Katsuki’s stomach feel weird. He wants to touch them, so he clutches the glass of water twice as hard. “Cooked by you,” Shinsou says dutifully. “Chef’s choice.”

Katsuki nods his approval. “Good answer.”

As he settles in to sleep, Katsuki formulates a plan. He’ll rock the fucker’s socks off with scrambled eggs in the morning. He’ll make it damn clear that thirty-seven ain’t fucking old. And then he’ll get Shinsou to fuck him because breakfast means it ain’t a one-night stand anymore, and Katsuki can throw his dumbass self-imposed rule to the wayside.

Solid fucking night, solid night of fucking. Katsuki looks forward to round two.