Work Text:
When Katsuki fought his way to the head of his clan, it wasn’t for power. Not for himself, at least.
It was because he was the strongest; their clan was wasting away, giving up territory along the edges as they had been for decades. The only reason their enemies had not taken the seat of their power was because of the dragons on the mountain.
Katsuki was tired watching his clan fall apart.
Looking back he does not know what he expected, but it was definitely more making war and less talking about it. The territories to the east belonged to them for thousands of years, only to be snatched away in the last few, and Katsuki will take them back. He clenches his fist, sparks muted in his palm, gritting his teeth; their people are being forced to assimilate into a culture that does not understand them, and he cannot sit by idly.
“You’ve all been repeating yourselves for an hour, now,” he growls, muffled explosions growing louder in his palm. “I don’t care about the weather, I don’t care about storm season! There is no excuse for waiting! Only—”
Katsuki’s words cut off, breath hitching as Eijirou bucks his hips underneath him, running his clawed hands up Katsuki’s sides. He is seated in his lap; there is no other throne for Katsuki. Has never been. Will never be. Eijirou in his half-shift is big enough that Katsuki is level with the table.
They are almost finished for the day— it’s no surprise he is buried in Katsuki now, rolling his hips and purring.
It is something that starts gradually. They will plan, and argue, and meet with ambassadors and emissaries. When Katsuki begins losing his patience, he feels Eijirou’s arms close around him, nuzzling at his jaw from behind. When his temper turns foul, Eijirou noses into his neck and tugs up Katsuki’s robes, grinding against him, skin on skin.
When fire begins to flicker in his palms, Eijirou presses his cock into Katsuki with agonizing slowness. Katsuki breathes heavily, cheeks flushing— it isn’t embarrassment. Across the table Kaminari has had his hands under Mina’s skirts all evening. To one side, Tamaki is fully human save the marks on his cheeks and his horns, sitting in Mirio’s lap. Mirio has kept him on edge since noon, and Tamaki is almost shaking with it. There is no shame in showing affection, especially between mates.
As the ridges of Eijirou’s cock press into him, there is no shyness; there is only relief. Katsuki sighs, leaning back into Eijirou and letting his eyes fall closed. It gets thicker the more he takes of it, until the stretch of Eijirou’s swollen knot is all that remains. Eijirou leans in, horns tangling in Katsuki’s hair as he kisses the tattoo on his shoulder.
It is hard to fly through the winter storms. Especially for smaller dragons.
Katsuki lets out an irritated huff, but he can feel Eijirou’s smugness as he wraps his arms around Katsuki’s waist and pulls him roughly down over his knot. He cannot help the sound he makes, dangerously close to a whine— there is nothing small about Eijirou, and at the moment, he is merciless. Katsuki reaches back to take hold of one of Eijirou’s horns, rolling his hips when Eijirou reaches around to slide a hand into his robes.
“If we’re waiting until the storm season passes to retake the east valley, I don’t want—” Katsuki’s breath hitches, Eijirou starting to pull out before fucking deeper into him, slowly establishing a rhythm. “I don’t want our riders sitting idle. They’ll head out to help shore up defenses in the southeast.”
It is not what he wants to say.
Katsuki wants to ride out on Eijirou now and lay waste to the people who have taken his clan’s territory, but Todoroki is right. Eijirou is right. The smaller mounts will struggle in the storms, and they can’t risk having some of their force grounded or turned back. It is easier to see their reasoning with Eijirou trailing kisses down his throat, mouthing softly over the scars of Katsuki’s mating bites.
Easier to see their reasoning when Eijirou bites down on his throat and starts working his cock. Waiting out the storms means time to rest here with Eijirou before starting another fight, and they both crave it, even if Katsuki would never say it out loud.
“Tomorrow,” Katsuki says, eyes closed as he leans back into Eijirou, holding onto both horns now as he rides him. They can speak more on it tomorrow, when he is not restless and ready to scream.
There are murmurs of agreement, but Katsuki isn’t really paying attention as the council disperses. He doesn’t need to; Mirio and Tamaki will drift off to their quarters together. Todoroki will go and train until he can’t stand anymore, and then he will sit up most of the night poring over maps and books and letters in his rooms. He does not want a mate, he says, and yet everything he does screams otherwise. Mina has spun around in Kaminari’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck as she moves her hips.
Katsuki doesn’t spare any of them another thought. Eijirou fucks him until his knot swells, face buried in his throat. There is so much affection pouring through their bond that Katsuki can feel himself flushing.
No one in the world is as powerful as Katsuki right now, sitting in Eijirou’s lap; they could own it all, but he only wants what belongs to him.
His birthright, and Eijirou.
-
He saw them on his way to the mountain, dragging themselves down the trails after he got through the first torii gate. Some of them walked, limping and bloodied. Some were carried, those lucky enough to have someone left to help them.
Those lucky enough to come down in someone’s arms instead of in pieces— it was what happened when someone headed into a horde’s nest uninvited and unmated. They were a threat, and they were treated as such. They kept their young in the caldera left from previous eruptions, and no one outside the horde could be allowed near them. Dragons were few and far between, only small scattered populations in isolated places remaining. They’d been hunted down almost to extinction, maybe a few hundred left in the world.
Many of them lived on the Kirishima range, a crescent shaped sprawl of volcanic mountains that circled Katsuki’s territory to the west.
The lower regions of the mountains were safe, at least on the inside of the range, where Katsuki’s clan lay. People traveled from all over his clan lands and sometimes beyond them to try and make it to Kirishima’s caldera. It had been a long time since anyone had reached it; ever since the most recent riot took over the horde and would not be tamed.
Katsuki didn’t want to tame him.
Katsuki wanted to fight him, and mate him, and then fight beside him.
The horde on Kirishima was something to behold. They usually stuck to the mountains, but there would be dragons soaring overhead from time to time. Katsuki saw the riot sailing over the capitol often enough, bigger than any dragon he had ever seen, red scales shining in the sunlight. He stared from the ground, furious with impatience.
There were so many traditions; he must be a certain age, must earn the teeth in his necklace, must have his ceremonial tattoos, must get the blessings of the dragon priestesses. Outsiders weren’t beholden to all this.
Katsuki could have cast aside tradition and roared up the mountain long ago, but he still had to lead his people afterward. Had to sit with them at feasts, and in councils, and if he did not abide by all the trappings of their clan he would be listening to it the rest of his life.
It did not make it easier to watch others head off towards the mountains, thinking they could take the riot before Katsuki got the chance. When it came time to choose a new clan leader, Katsuki tore through everyone who would stand against him. He got his tattoos, and let the elders anoint his face and chest with oil to purify him.
They seated him as head of the clan, Katsuki wearing their crown but without his throne.
Yet.
As he moved higher up the mountain, the offerings came first. Katsuki paid them no mind, jogging up the trail, eager to get things underway. It wasn’t as though any of this was new to him.
He’d run these paths a thousand times before, getting ready for this day.
There were small stone altars and statues of dragons set along both sides of the path, lanterns burning in them and different offerings laid out. Priestesses kept the shrines and altars but down so close to the city the offerings were mostly worthless, at least to thieves. There were seashells and stones smoothed in the river. A handful of loose grain. Another of dried fruit seeds. Small bottles of wine, oddly shaped bits of scrap metal, and coins that were made worthless after some war or another.
Katsuki kept heading up, and the altars became more scarce, the offerings more valuable. The trees were denser here and the way was more dangerous. If he did not know it by heart it would be reckless to travel it in the dark with the sun only just beginning to rise. There were coins on these altars that would buy bread almost anywhere. Pieces of old jewelry.
Then came the warnings— cairns made of stone and dragon glass on both sides of the path every time it veered left or right. Wooden signs on either side of the path had one word on them.
Dragon.
There were protective talismans too, paper tacked to trees or piled at the shrines. Straw dolls, incense. So many candles, some of them burned down to nothing.
Higher still, through more torii gates; Katsuki saw only a few shrines, but they had lavish offerings. Pristine gold coins and shining gemstones only slightly tarnished from the weather. Nobody but the priestesses and those making pilgrimage to the mountain would travel so far up the trails. Katsuki didn’t have any offerings for the shrines, but he had been giving this land his blood all his life.
That combined with the blood he was likely to spill would be more than enough.
Katsuki stepped into the clearing just before the last torii gate that it was safe to pass through without worrying about dragons. His breath fogged out in front of him, both his hands in fists at his sides. The top of the mountain vanished into the clouds, other smaller peaks spread out on either side. There was a large circular clearing paved in smooth, flat stones taken from the mountain. In the center of the clearing was a ritual altar, obsidian littered with leaves and vines. Disused for decades, it was no wonder nature had begun to take it back.
This was the place where his clan would meet him, if he could tame the riot. They would come up, and he would come down, and they would celebrate with the horde. Katsuki couldn’t leave it like that, covered in leaves and ruined.
He approached the altar with something that felt like mania soaring through him, and before Katsuki realized it he was tugging all the vines away. There was moss clinging in places, and dirt from the rain. Katsuki put both his palms flat against the altar and blasted the surface, fire swelling over it to leave everything mostly clean. There were some ashes, some soot marks, but it wasn’t important. It didn’t have to be perfect.
By the time he made it back down the mountain, he would be filthy anyway.
There were dragons statues flanking either side of the next torii gate, mouths open in roars, candles filling up their jaws inside their teeth. It was the separation of their territories; the clan lands ended there, and the peak belonged to the horde.
Katsuki smiled with all of his teeth, body already swelling with the fight ahead of him. There were riders in his clan but they were few and far between, and their mates were mostly smaller dragons. Their clan head had always been a rider, always on the biggest dragon of his fellow warriors.
If Katsuki could not get the riot of the Kirishima horde to bow, he didn’t deserve to lead them.
Most of the oldest dragons didn’t take human form, didn’t go into the half-shift, didn’t bother with humans. They’d outlived their mates, or lost them somehow. If they had not shifted in a while, it was easy for them to forget they had ever held a human form at all, but there are enough young dragons in the horde that it will not be easy to make it to the final altar.
Katsuki stood in front of one of the statues beside the gate, snapping his fingers over the candles in the dragon’s mouth and watching them flicker to life; he didn’t have to light them to proceed, but there was power in them. Katsuki walked to the other statue. Lit the other candles.
The horde would know he was coming.
Katsuki stood just outside the gate, staring up the path. Off in the distance there was a roar, the riot calling his horde. Katsuki fisted his hands.
There was power in them, too.
-
The coronation is just a formality, an excuse for the clan to gather and feast and celebrate. Usually Katsuki wouldn’t begrudge them, especially when they’d be looking at a fight come summer, but he has only just found Eijirou. Has only just named him. The crown sits on his head like he was born to wear it, hardened volcanic glass glittering in the firelight, but Katsuki cannot care. No one expects him to, really.
His true crown sits on Eijirou’s head, horns curling out, huge and imposing.
Katsuki has his throne now; he sits in Eijirou’s lap, already sunk down on his cock, robes fallen down off his shoulders to pool around his waist. It keeps him somewhat hidden from view while Eijirou grinds into him. They’re knotted together, Eijirou coming still, making little shivers run through Katsuki. He is already full of him, thighs wet, robes ruined.
Eijirou dwarfs the dais they sit on, larger than his usual half-shift. He apologizes silently in Katsuki’s thoughts when he wonders if it will always be like this— too big, too much. There are too many people, too close to his new mate. Katsuki does not mind, except Eijirou’s knot swells in him, and he scratches over Katsuki’s chest with his claws, and it is hard to think let alone speak to anyone who comes to wish them well.
Someone else approaches out of the corner of Katsuki’s vision, but Eijirou lets out a rumbling noise that has them backing away again. Katsuki huffs a laugh.
They will have to wait.
-
It was a shame he’d never enjoyed stealth. Katsuki could be stealthy, if necessary; he wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t know how to be quiet and slink unseen through the trees. It would have been easier.
It would have felt like cheating. Like giving up before he even started. Katsuki had known even before he lit the candles that there was no way up but his own.
The moment he stepped through the gate he started running, power welling up in his fists and waiting to be unleashed. It would also be easier to cut the dragons down than simply overpower them, but that wasn’t how things were done in his clan. Dragons were revered.
It is why they love his clan. It is why they will bow their horns.
When the first dragons of the horde found him, it was nothing. Those who came before the others were smaller, faster— in the half-shift, as was custom when someone lit the gate. Both of them were grinning, more curious than eager for a fight. Younger dragons would come down the mountain to play-fight, and Katsuki wouldn’t begrudge them.
They took a few swipes at him, but when it became obvious they couldn’t overpower him they lost interest, sliding into the full shift and vanishing above him into the clouds. It was the first of many smaller dragons who were swooping down on him from overhead or sailing out of the trees in attempts to surprise him. Katsuki made his way steadily up the mountain, evading those too small to do more than dive bomb him, blasting larger ones away with his palms.
It was frustratingly easy. Katsuki was ready for a fight, not to play tag with rowdy adolescent dragons.
Then he reached the first clearing, paved with more flat stones, and there was a dragon waiting for him; not the riot of the horde, but imposing. This was the fight he’d been expecting— a dragon in the half shift, broad with vicious teeth and claws as sharp as any of Todoroki’s knives. They towered over Katsuki, bigger than the bears that roamed the mountainside with them. They rolled their shoulders, dark scales running down their back. It was hard to read their expression from a distance, but it looked like a smile to Katsuki.
He cracked his knuckles and smiled back.
Then he swelled forward with a roar, fire in his fist, and did not stop.
-
It was the first hard fight, but it was not the last. When it was obvious they were beaten they yielded, bowing until their horns touched the ground before shifting and taking off into the sky. There was another set of dragon statues before the next gate, mouths open and full of mostly pristine candles.
Katsuki lit them all, running up the trails that twist higher and higher into the mountain, the incline getting less forgiving as he ascended. The horde dogged his steps all the way, trying to snatch him off the mountainside or douse him in flames. Then he came to the next clearing, and the next; these were the hordes generals. Katsuki recognized some of them when they shifted, from seeing them slip through the skies overhead in the capitol.
These were the dragons who kept his clan safe. The dragons who kept most of their own kind safe. They were strong and they were vicious and they did not hesitate to come at Katsuki with everything they had.
Then when his palms ached, when there was sweat pouring down his face, when his mouth tasted like rust and there was blood in his teeth, they bowed their horns and let him pass. It was slow going, but Katsuki could not rest. Every time he looked up, the end was closer.
Katsuki lit candles, and fought dragons, and ran.
-
It was nightfall when he finally reached the last altar. Katsuki was bloodied and exhausted but still smiling as he stepped up to the torii gate leading into the clearing— it was more arena than ritual space, but served both purposes nonetheless.
In the middle of the altar, bigger than any dragon in half-shift Katsuki had ever seen, was the riot of the Kirishima horde. Katsuki could not see much of them in the dark, and gained nothing by waiting. The statues on either side of the gate were enormous, bigger than Katsuki himself, the candle wicks unburnt. He had to use his palm to get them all lit, and be careful not to blast them away. Someone from another clan would have come to conquer, but Katsuki came for something else.
Katsuki came for his mate.
As soon as all the candles were blazing, dragons lit up like they were breathing fire, Katsuki stepped past the gate and into the clearing.
The riot opened his mouth and blew a stream of fire directly into his palm, and Katsuki watched it coalesce into a ball, casting bright light on the dragon’s face. He smiled wide and threw the fire into the darkness, where a different dragon caught it, using it to light candles in another dragon statue. The dragons passed the riot’s fire around the clearing in a circle, lighting up candles as they went until the arena was ringed in fire.
Fire, and the horde.
Dragons flew overhead, fully shifted and calling down to the others. Those gathered around the edges of the arena in between the statues were mostly half-shifted, none of them as big as their riot.
It was easy to see the riot then, dressed only in a tunic tied loosely around his waist, hanging low on his hips. His horns were huge, curling out to the front over his head— Katsuki could not look away. He cracked the knuckles of one hand against the opposite palm, then switched, claws glinting in the moonlight.
“You must be Katsuki,” the riot says, grin gone crooked. His eyes lit up vivid in the darkness, red light shining eerily out in front of him.
Katsuki smiled back.
-
It is boring, and tedious, and every time another clan leader or council member or elder comes by to congratulate them, Katsuki can only barely suppress a sigh. If he was not so well-fucked, Eijirou rocking into him lazily, it would be unbearable. As it is he mutters his thanks without sparing them a glance, reaching up to take hold of Eijirou’s horns and ride him in earnest.
Katsuki is not the only one enjoying the affection of his mate; there are others dotted through the throne room, hands moving underneath their mate’s clothes or mouthing at their throat. Someone on the edge of the room has their mate laid out over a table, rutting into them idly. It is the way of his clan, and no one from any of the neighboring clans so much as blinks. Some share their customs, and some don’t, but they are well acquainted either way.
The clan leaders from faraway territories are by far the worst, giving the dragons scattered around the room long glances and appearing scandalized by those enjoying their mates. They approach the dais awkwardly, not wanting to make eye contact while still lavishing praise on Katsuki.
What a fight it must have been, how amazing to have a horde at your beck and call.
What a monster you have for a mate.
Katsuki snarls at the implication that the relationship his clan has with the Kirishima horde is nothing more than his people using the dragons for their own gain. The bonds run deeper than that, traditions going back hundreds of years.
Eijirou’s hands slip into Katsuki’s robes again, taking him in hand and starting to stroke.
He’s afraid of us, Eijirou purrs in his thoughts, fucking up into him sharply. Ignore him and let him be afraid.
Katsuki is better at diplomacy with Eijirou’s hands on his thighs, overstimulated and boneless.
Eijirou is worse when the ministers from the outer oasis come, looking at the dragons like they are little more than animals.
Eijirou is dangerous when they lean in closer to Katsuki, we understand the traditions of your people, but would it not be wise to take another, more… conventional partner? Someone more civilized, to solidify our tenuous alliance.
The noise Eijirou makes is deep enough that Katsuki feels it shaking through him. Rumbling through his body, through the dais underneath him, into the floor of the throne room. Eijirou’s eyes are bright enough that Katsuki can see the shadows they throw on the stones, painting everything in shades of red. There would be fury in him, but Eijirou will take care of it as well as he ever could. Katsuki grins instead, panting as he tries to catch his breath, holding himself very still.
Eijirou is shifting underneath him, growing larger, arms closing tight around Katsuki. He is bigger inside him, too— Katsuki bites his lip. Closes his eyes. Leans back into his mate.
The burst of flame that Eijirou spews stops just short of the emissaries, who stumble backwards out of the way, wide eyed and afraid. No one else asks about marriage alliances.
No one else asks anything at all.
-
“Katsuki of the Kirishima mountain clan,” Katsuki said, cracking his neck to the left, then to the right. “You’re the riot of the Kirishima horde.”
The riot huffed a laugh; his scales were vivid red in the firelight. Katsuki had been waiting for this for so long.
“That’s what you call me, because you can’t name me. That’s what you’re here to do, right, little one? See if you’re strong enough to give me a name?”
The riot looked gleeful; the power in Katsuki was alive. The mountain underneath him was alive. The dragon across from him was alive. Fire swelled in his palms, and the riot laughed, eyes flaring brighter.
“Come on then, let’s see what kind of man you are!”
There had not been a riot like this one in over a hundred years; to stand against him and be enough would mean he had not spent his whole life fighting in vain.
It would mean he was strong.
Katsuki’s explosions propelled him across the clearing and directly at the riot, who was braced and ready for the blow, expression lit with joy. This dragon was euphoric to be fighting Katsuki— had been waiting on him, just as Katsuki had been waiting to climb this mountain. When they crashed into one another, the noise could be heard down the mountainside; an unstoppable force.
An immovable object.
Except Katsuki gritted his teeth, and clenched his fist, and moved him. Hitting the riot was like hitting stone, the fire in his palm glancing off the riot’s scales. He was staggeringly powerful, and so much bigger than Katsuki it should have been intimidating, but he had never allowed himself to feel fear the way he should and he wasn’t going to start right then.
There was nothing clean about it; they spewed fire and exchanged blows. Katsuki’s hands would be ruined for days by the time he was finished, raw from overusing his power, knuckles busted and bleeding as he threw them at the riot again and again. He had been training his whole life for war.
He had been training his whole life for this, and Katsuki’s body slipped into muscle memory. Katsuki’s nose was broken, his lip busted, his face bleeding. He wouldn’t feel it all until later.
Right then there was only the riot, and he came at Katsuki with a roar. It felt like they were made to move together, even as they tried to make it hurt. It was too easy to duck under his hands, to jump over feet, to dodge his flames. It was too easy for the riot to escape Katsuki’s blows, too, but Katsuki did not know how to stop.
Neither of them could stop smiling, and then the riot was pinned underneath Katsuki, staring up at him. He was wounded, bleeding from gashes along his chest, but they had already started healing. Katsuki could feel it then, power settling all around them. Power swelling up from the mountains beneath them, and pouring in from the horde all around.
The horde was roaring now, stomping their feet until the whole mountain trembled with the noise.
The riot stared at Katsuki, smiling with blood dripping down his chin.
“Been dreaming of you,” the riot said, eyes roving over Katsuki. “Been waiting. What do you ask of me, Katsuki of the mountain clan?”
Oaths with dragons could be almost anything. A promise of servitude, a task to complete.
A mate.
Katsuki let go of the riot’s wrists, and his hands settled immediately at Katsuki’s waist, palms sliding up his back to pull him closer.
“Anything,” the riot said, and Katsuki smirked.
“I wanted to win,” he said, then ran his thumb over the riot’s mouth. “And I want you.”
The horde erupted, shouting and growling in celebration, stomping their feet loudly once again; a horde whose riot was mated to a human would follow them anywhere. The riot was still staring at Katsuki like he’d hung the moon in the sky; for dragons there was nothing as attractive as raw strength, and there was no one as strong as Katsuki.
The riot surged up and kissed him, teeth sharp as they snagged against Katsuki’s lips, tugging them tighter against each other. It tasted like fire and victory and Katsuki reached up behind himself, firing off a flare into the sky. It soared high over the mountain and exploded in a burst of sparks— the sign to his clan to begin the mating procession to the bottom of the mountain.
The bond had not sunk in yet, but Katsuki could feel it, like music playing in his thoughts but coming straight from the riot.
Eijirou, the riot said, voice flitting across Katsuki’s consciousness. It was his name, Katsuki could tell. All the talk of naming dragons, and all they truly did was learn to hear them.
“Eijirou,” Katsuki agreed, leaning back in to kiss him more.
He hadn’t noticed when he’d closed his hand around one of Eijirou’s horns, but he did notice when he purred, a heavy rumbling that came from deep in his chest.
Then Eijirou broke away from his mouth, eyes so bright it hurt to look at him, and sank his teeth deep in Katsuki’s throat. Katsuki groaned, wrapping his other arm around Eijirou and fisting a hand in his hair. He hissed profanities as Eijirou clenched his jaw tighter, tearing the skin more. The scar would be something to behold.
The music in his thoughts was louder, then, as though it was pouring from the wounds in his throat and into his blood.
Mine, Eijirou growled across their bond, and Katsuki nodded frantically. There was no horde, or clan, or war to fight.
There was only Eijirou.
He released his bite finally, kissing Katsuki as he stood up and set him down. Then Eijirou went to his knees, bowing until his horns touched the ground at Katsuki’s feet. Katsuki closed both hands around him and tugged his face up; Eijirou was big enough that he did not need to stand.
Katsuki just leaned forward and pressed their lips together, and then Eijirou scooped him up and carried him towards the center of the arena. He sat down when he got there, tugging Katsuki into his lap and pulling at his tunic.
Mine, Eijirou thought again as he lapped at Katsuki’s throat, licking blood from the fresh bite, loud and insistent in his mind. Take you, he thought, and Katsuki nodded and let himself be undressed. Eijirou’s claws sliced through his clothes, pulling at the ruined fabric until it fell away.
Eijirou closed his fingers around Katsuki’s wrist and brought his hand up, pulling Katsuki’s first two fingers into his mouth. His tongue twisted around them, and Katsuki stared, open mouthed and panting.
Get yourself ready for me, Eijirou thought, guiding Katsuki’s hand behind him. I can’t shed my claws right now. You are too much, Katsuki.
As if to punctuate it Eijirou scratched the claws of his free hand down Katsuki’s back; he hissed, arching as he pressed his fingers in to work himself open. Katsuki was impatient, head thrown back as he struggled to push deeper. He didn’t care if it hurt.
Pain was better than the emptiness in his chest, telling him that it would swallow him whole if he did not take his mate, now, now, come on, Eijirou, I’ve been waiting.
It slipped from him and into Eijirou, and he growled as he jerked Katsuki’s fingers out of himself and pressed the tip of his cock in, instead. Katsuki whined, swallowing it and burying his face in Eijirou’s throat— there were ridges running down the length of him, and Katsuki felt each one slide into him, stretching then easing then stretching again. More, and more— Eijirou was bigger as Katsuki sank towards the swell of his knot. Even though it was mostly soft, it took some effort.
Little one, you do not know what it is to wait, Eijirou thought, grinding up into Katsuki until his knot slid into him, both of them groaning. There were not words, but Katsuki could hear it all the same.
Eijirou had been waiting so long. He snarled, holding Katsuki so tightly it hurt. It was everything Katsuki needed. He came with a sob, shaking through it. Eijirou was everything.
Eijirou was everything and he needed more.
“Fuck me,” Katsuki hissed, both out loud and in Eijirou’s thoughts, and Eijirou purred and kissed him and obeyed.
The horde was still gathered around the edges of the arena, and it felt more like an altar, now. Katsuki could feel the power in it, in him, in Eijirou. The dragons’ stomping got louder as he circled his arms around Eijirou’s neck, straining to take him faster. Eijirou’s breath hitched strangely— his face was wet, twisted up with something like anguish as he fucked frantically into Katsuki.
Thought you’d never come, Eijirou thought, and then he was coming, knot swelling up in Katsuki as bursts of heat filled him. Katsuki kept waiting for it to stop, but Eijirou kept shaking him, kept grinding deeper. Can find you anywhere now, little one.
Find you at the bottom of the sea.
Find you in the underworld, in the blessed fires of my mothers.
Love you, Eijirou thought— it was simple. Katsuki could feel it.
Love you, he answered back. Knowing one another would come later, as the bond settled in place, but they did not have to wait for it.
-
When Eijirou’s knot finally released he pulled out and caught some of the mess on his hands, wiping his come over Katsuki’s stomach and chest, rubbing it into the skin. Katsuki was too fucked out to care. Most of the horde had dissipated by this point, the last of them shifting and vanishing into the clouds to the sounds of faraway roars. For them, the mating ceremony was over.
For Katsuki and Eijirou, it had just begun.
Eijirou picked Katsuki up in his arms and began carrying him down the mountain. Katsuki wanted to complain, but Eijirou had not spent the day fighting his way through a horde of dragons.
From the way Eijirou held him, Katsuki didn’t think he’d be putting him down anytime soon. He had his eyes closed, face tucked into Katsuki’s throat and chest and face, kissing him, breathing in lungfuls of his scent. The rumbling purr in his chest never stopped.
Katsuki slept. Katsuki woke.
Katsuki could hear his clan drumming long before he saw them. He stirred against Eijirou’s chest, scowling— then remembering where he was, and what he was doing.
Now it was his clan gathered around the edges of a clearing, the altar he’d cleaned on his way up waiting for them. They pounded drums and stomped, some of them wearing jewelry that made chiming sounds with their movements. When he and Eijirou came into view they started cheering, the dragons in his clan roaring and spewing fire, other mages setting off their powers.
Mina and Mirio soared overhead, Kaminari and Tamaki fully shifted and circling. Todoroki was pounding away at a drum, focused on his playing with something darker than intensity. Katsuki cannot worry about him, right then. Cannot worry about the things he needs just yet.
Eijirou laid Katsuki out on the altar, and it was nothing to fuck into him— Katsuki was already so filthy with his come, so open for Eijirou. Everyone began dancing in earnest then, some of them shoving their partners against statues or tugging them down onto the ground, clothes easy to pull aside so they could celebrate the mating of their clan leader alongside him.
They would be there until the sun rose, and then they would go home.
-
When the daylight crept over the horizon, Katsuki squinted against the brightness, half-asleep and glaring. Eijirou curled further around him, blocking the light with his bulk, smiling down at him. He brushed Katsuki’s hair back out of his face and pressed their lips together.
Take you home, Eijirou thought, and then he set Katsuki down on the altar like an offering and started to shift.
Katsuki had seen dragons shift before, but never one like Eijirou. He stood up to his full height, and kept going, stretching from his half-shift into something behemoth and red and winged. Eijirou had looked big enough from the ground of Katsuki’s balcony, slipping through the clouds overhead.
Now Eijirou was right in front of him, bowing his horns at Katsuki’s feet again, except this time so he could climb onto him. Most of Eijirou was spiked and dangerous, but there was a place on the back of his head where Katsuki settled effortlessly.
Made for you, Eijirou said, a trace of amusement in it. Katsuki laid down against him, worn out and filthy and ruined.
Eijirou took off into the sky to carry Katsuki home, his clan screaming his name as they disappeared into the clouds.
-
Katsuki’s throne comes with him everywhere he goes.
Katsuki’s mate comes with him everywhere he goes.
Eijirou has won battles for Katsuki without even settling foot on a battlefield. Missives come in from far and wide— places where other clans have been infringing on their land, taking advantage of their people, trying to form alliances against them.
No one wants to fight Katsuki and Eijirou just yet. It is a fucking shame.
Katsuki is leaving for the eastern borders, curious to see with his own eyes just where the boundaries are set. He steps out on the balcony with Eijirou. Kisses him slowly; they’re in no hurry.
Then Eijirou grins, and jumps, and Katsuki jumps after him. Eijirou shifts between one breath and the next, and Katsuki lands on his neck. It is easy, the way everything is easy when he has done it a thousand times.
As far as the eye can see, it is Katsuki’s clan lands. Eijirou’s nest.
As far as the eye can see, it is home.