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“I’m not fucking gay or anything,” Katsuki whispers against his lips.
Izuku tilts his head curiously. “Okay.”
Katsuki’s fingers dig into Izuku’s curls, bury themselves in his mess of green, and tug him close to kiss him then.
Katsuki pulls back.
The breath he takes in is shaking the same way the hand that’s pressing against Izuku’s stomach underneath his shirt is.
When Katsuki kisses Izuku again, it’s something desperate, Katsuki’s mouth feels hungry, starved against Izuku’s. He squeezes the back of Izuku’s neck, his fingers curl around his waist, nails biting into Izuku’s freckled skin to force him closer. Close enough so they’re flush against each other. Katsuki presses his forehead against Izuku’s, their noses smush together, they’re breathing into each other’s mouths without the movement of their lips, and Katsuki is idly messing with the waistband of Izuku’s sweatpants.
Hesitant, scared. Teetering on the edge.
He’s breathing hard. Heart punching against his ribcage. Rattling his heart inside of himself, his stomach is turning sour.
“I… ‘m not gay,” Katsuki whispers. He tells Izuku again and again. “‘M really fucking not, Deku. I’m not.”
Izuku pulls back slightly.
His lips are wet, reddened, and flushed from the kiss. His eyes are, too. Red, flushed. Wet, even.
He blinks, and Katsuki imagines how much Izuku’s world must blur with the tears that pour over his freckles.
Izuku says, “That’s…that’s okay, Kacchan.”
Katsuki swallows.
And Izuku becomes a blur of colors, his tears are cold when they line the side of his own jaw. Katsuki doesn’t bother wiping them away, in favor of ridding Izuku’s instead. There’s something small but firm that keeps Katsuki’s swallow from being smooth.
He asks, “Is it?”
Sniffles. Another swallow, and his face twists with tears that are even faster than the first ones that spilled. And then another question, when he’s pulling Izuku’s pants down his pale thigh. Slowly, carefully, and hardly looking the other boy in the eye as he does. When he whispers his question.
“Is this?”
“Yeah, it is,” Izuku says. Voice shakes. “That and … and this.”
Katsuki’s water-filled eyes pull away from Izuku’s own, and he looks down at his own hands instead. At where they’re pulling back fabric to expose Izuku’s skin. His freckles are everywhere. There are scars on Izuku’s thighs. Those seem to be everywhere, too. Like long, thin freckles. They don’t give Katsuki the same fluttery feelings as Izuku’s dotted ones, though.
They make Katsuki ache.
Katsuki breathes shallowly when his hand cups Izuku’s thigh.
He drags his thumb over thin, overlapping scars. Some healed, others not quite.
“Sorry,” Izuku whispers.
Shrinks into himself and shakes his head like he isn’t even sure why he apologized. And that makes sense, ‘cuz Katsuki’s just as confused.
“Why?” Katsuki whispers back.
“I,” Izuku shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything else.
Katsuki watches his own fingers trace over Izuku’s skin for a moment before he gently tugs on Izuku’s waist.
The entirety of it to bring him down into the bed. To lay him flat on his back. And then Katsuki’s got his knee between Izuku’s legs.
He’s desperate again, he’s hungry. Starving.
Katsuki’s kissing Izuku now, he lowers himself and cautiously presses his pelvis right against Izuku’s as he kisses him. It’s slower than before, like Katsuki’s getting ready to slowly pull out, to call a quits and never bring this up ever a-fucking-gain. For both of their sakes.
But then he rolls his hips. Moves his hips down and rubs against Izuku, over their pants and dragging friction along both of their clothed cocks. And suddenly the kiss is paused.
Paused because Katsuki’s eyes are squeezed shut and his face is pressed against Izuku’s, and he attempts to stifle the pathetic whine that falls from his throat.
Then Izuku’s hands are on him.
One on his hip, the other in his hair, dragging Katsuki down, closer. And only then does Katsuki become aware of the hard movements of Izuku’s chest. Of how he is harshly breathing, how fast it is rising and falling, of how red and hot his face is, how darkened green strands of hair stick against his cheeks.
Katsuki aches once he’s got a look at Izuku and rolls his hips again, gently starting to rut against Izuku. He squeezes his eyes tighter, holds his breath when he rolls his hips down against Izuku’s again and again and again. The air in throat catches, lungs tighten, and he curls one of his arms around Izuku’s body as he fits himself between Izuku’s leg. One in between his thighs to slot their hips together like puzzle pieces, the other draped over his freckles left leg for leverage as he grinds down.
Katsuki looks down, into those green eyes as he fucks against Izuku again, friction dragging a sound out of both of him. Izuku’s lashes are weights on his lids, green of his irises aren’t as bright as usual, glossed over as he stares directly back at Katsuki with open-mouthed pants.
Katsuki’s fingers curl into Izuku’s damp, sticky curls. He squeezes Izuku’s hair and moves his hips harder. Harder, harder, faster.
Still staring at Izuku and he asks, panting, “Is this still okay?”
Izuku huffs, a weak little sound punched out around it, and his hips twitch up with his nod. “Uh- uh-huh, hah.”
Izuku wraps his legs up around Katsuki’s waist, bucking his hips up and up, squeezing at Katsuki’s shirt as he shuts his eyes. Katsuki stares down at him, panting rough and wet as he drinks Izuku in. His glossy pink lips, the hazy flush dusted over his cheeks. His pretty lashes and the way his curls swirl over his forehead, loop around his ear.
He’s like fucking bubblegum, all over.
Katsuki wants to sink his teeth into him.
“Shit,” Katsuki moans. His brows draw as he shakes with the intensity of pleasure rushing over his clothed cock, moving his hips faster, trying to dig himself harder against the fabric of Izuku’s pants. “Oh, fuck. Hah—fuck. Fuck.”
Katsuki lifts Izuku’s hip up by his ass, bites his tongue when he squeezes it, brings Izuku’s hips closer to his, faster.
He’s panting, sweat is dripping off his brow, running down his neck, and his sounds are even harder to swallow when Izuku starts rolling his hips up more insistently, rubbing his cock harder into Katsuki’s bulge.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers.
”Deku,” Katsuki hisses. The way he says his goddamn name — Katsuki doesn’t know why it makes him so fucking hot.
Izuku tilts his head all the way back, surrendering himself to the pleasure, letting his eyes fall shut as he squeezes Katsuki’s arms.
“Why—why’re you crying? Wanna—stop?”
Katsuki sniffles again, and he throws his head forward into Izuku’s neck.
“‘Cuz this isn’t supposed to feel so fucking good,” he says to Izuku.
“I, I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers.
Katsuki’s breath is humid against the skin of Izuku’s neck. He groans into his skin, shakes his head like he's trying to say something that he fails to vocalize, squeezing Izuku even tighter.
He’s getting close, the build of his pleasure getting more intense. He holds Izuku’s body down against the bed as he fucks hips forward, grounding his bulge hard against Izuku’s, rocking into him again and again and again, panting harder, breathing shallower as he hiccups.
“Fuck, Deku. I—it’s—fuck. ‘M gonna. Gonna fuckin’ - hnngh.”
Tears wet Izuku’s face, and Katsuki stills against Izuku’s body, hand moving to cup his jaw instead and kiss Izuku through his own orgasm as Izuku’s hips stutter and he squeezes Katsuki through his.
Katsuki’s shaking.
And he keeps kissing Izuku, even after he’s come down. Izuku lazily kisses him back, using the tips of his fingers to brush blond strands out of Katsuki’s face. Katsuki kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.
And when Izuku pulls away, Katsuki pulls him back, holds him down, and kisses him over and over, again and again.
“Just wait,” Katsuki mutters against his lips. “Wait. Just let me, let me keep,” again and again and again.
Izuku pushes Katsuki back, but holds him in place.
He swallows and asks, “Are you okay?”
Tears slide down Izuku’s cheeks, but they aren’t his own, surprisingly. Katsuki shakes his head.
“No,” he rasps. “Is that fine?”
“That’s fine,” Izuku whispers. He uses his thumb to catch Katsuki’s tears. “Can I make it better, though?”
Katsuki nods his head. “Let me keep fucking kissing you.”