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“Hey, cutie!” A curvy girl with a cloud of candy pink hair bounces up to the bar with a menu in one hand, shooting Katsuki a very enthusiastic smile. Before she can order, the rest of her party follows her in, and Katsuki groans because from the looks of those four, they are going to be a handful. Besides Pinky, there are Tall and Lanky, Blond and Chaotic, and Terrible Red Hair; all with big smiles and way too much energy for so early on a Saturday night.
“Gimmie two Black Manhattans, a cranberry bourbon on the rocks… oh, one of these ‘get kinky’ pink things please. And four shots of whatever really nice vodka you have on hand.”
“Deku-!” Katsuki calls, but he doesn't need to finish the instruction.
“Coming at you!”
Katsuki sticks out an arm without looking and snags the neck of the vodka bottle which Deku sends arcing high along the length of the bar. The pink girl squeals, and the blond boy whoops in obvious delight. Katsuki is stamping the four shot glasses out in a line when a big hand comes down hard on the bar.
“Mina, no!”
“Mina, yes!” the pink girl says, turning to the buff, broad shouldered red head behind her. “You gotta loosen up Kiri!”
“Did you forget who’s driving you guys home? No, no drinks for me.” The big guy shakes his head and pinky pouts at him like he just told her the easter bunny is a myth. Terrible Red Hair turns to look at Katsuki, and his grin is big and bright and very pretty. Damn. Hot straight guys should not be allowed in Katsuki’s bar. “Sorry bro. No shot for me, and cancel the cranberry bourbon.”
“Designated driver?” Katsuki asks, pouring the three shots and turning his attention to the measures for the Black Manhattans he is making with his other hand. “You leave your keys, you can get free soda. But soda is fucking boring.”
“Soda is fucking boring.” Deku agrees passionately. “Kacchan, I need to make an old fashioned.”
“Heads up Deku!”
It looks effortless, and that is precisely the point. The whole bar oohs and aahs as Katsuki sends an orange, a glass, and a peeler flying through the air. Deku twists as he catches the items, tossing the glass up high a second time, and by the time the bottle of sixteen-year-old Lagavulin is set down, there is a twist of orange rind in the glass, and the drink is sloshing gently around a giant crystal-shaped ice-cube. Deku completes the drink with a little bow, green curls falling forward into his face, and Katsuki returns his long distance fist bump with a smile.
Its taken them about a hundred hours of practice, and a lot of broken – but empty – bottles to get here, but it’s totally worth it to be ranked as the number one flair bartenders in the country. Next year, Katsuki wants to fly to America and enter the World Championships, but for that they are going to need a lot more tips.
“Wow…”
Katsuki finishes taking money off the bar, cleaning and gathering empty glasses and napkins as he goes, and frowns at the red head still standing at the bar. His friends have taken over a round table, where Tall and Lanky is now flirting with one of their regulars.
“Well, out with it, Shitty Hair. What do you want?”
“Oh er….” The guy acts like he hasn’t had a menu in front of him for the past five minutes. “Is there something I can order which involves you throwing things again?”
Katsuki blinks, and then a very loud and soon-to-be-very-drunk laugh cuts through the bar. Pinky is now also flirting with the people at the next table. At least, Katsuki thinks it’s flirting. She’s moving her hair around a lot.
“If you stay here too long, it looks like you’ll lose your girlfriend.”
Red Hair blushes, and even the tips of his ears match his hair. Dammit. Cute, reactive, tall, pecs like memory foam pillows; all of Katsuki's favourite things.
“Uhhh… Mina is not my girlfriend. I wouldn’t know what to do with a girlfriend.” He flounders for another ten seconds, then slams the cocktail menu down on the bar. “Got anything rainbow coloured and really fruity?”
Katsuki feels his smile slide across his face, and watches the red heads reaction to it. The bob of his Adam’s apple is delicious.
“Kiri!”
“KIRI!”
“WOOOOOOO!”
A shadow passes over the man’s face.
“Hold that thought,” he says, and dashes over to the table where his friends are acting as though they are already three sheets to the wind. Katsuki knows they make the drinks strong here, but not that strong.
“Pregaming is for losers and frat-boys,” he mutters.
Katsuki puts on his best customer service smile – which according to Deku is still a scowl – and makes a pina colada with a flame seared pineapple slice for his newest customer. Deku tosses him the pineapple and he cuts it in in mid-air, its fucking cool.
By the time the red head has made it back to the bar, Katsuki is cleaning glasses.
“They want more shots,” the man says, half collapsing as he takes a stool. “I’m Kirishima by the way.”
“Bakugo.”
“Kacchan! Limes please!”
Katsuki throws them to him without a pause. Deku never misses a toss.
“Kacchan?” Kirishima queries with an arched brow.
“We definitely don’t know each other well enough for that. If you’re really good, you might get my first name along with your bill.”
“SHOTS!” Blond and Chaotic calls out. “Kiri, we need more shots!”
Katsuki tosses glasses onto the bar in a neat pyramid of six before grabbing the strawberry liqueur and a bottle of black vodka to pour a swirly black rose shooter without spilling a single drop.
“And are you gonna help carry them all to my car when they pass out?” Kirishima eyes the black vodka nervously. “What even is this stuff?”
“It’ll make your friends very happy, that’s what.”
“Sorry about them. They’re not usually quite so- OK, they are usually this exuberant, but it is a celebration. Denki got promoted.”
As though hearing his name, the blond one stands up and hollers with a fist in the air.
Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“What, did he make is all the way to assistant intern?”
“Dude, ouch. Not manly. Denki is a disaster sometimes, but the man helps design the microprocessors in your phone.”
“I’m a rocket scientist!” Denki shrieks happily.
“Not any more Denks, remember?” Tall and Lanky reminds him, pulling the blond man back into the seat he’s trying to climb on top of. “You left the defence sector because you have morals.”
“I did? Do I need them? Where are my shots?!”
“Coming, coming,” Kirishima calls back over his shoulder. He balances the shots surprisingly delicately with his broad fingers. “Thanks, bro.”
“You still haven’t ordered anything!” Katsuki calls after him. “Oi! Red!”
He huffs, growling wordlessly, and strides to the other end of the bar where Deku is cutting limes in half. Katsuki begins to dip the cut sides in a dish of sugar, ready to be set alight for one of Deku’s favoured party pieces.
“Lively crowd tonight,” Deku chirrups. “The tip jar has been clinking all night.”
“Good. Flights to America are pricey as shit.”
“Don’t worry, Kacchan-”
“I ain’t worried.”
“-we’ll get there. And we’ll win the World Championships.”
“Fuck yeah we will,” Katsuki agrees. “You want me to throw fire at you from across the bar?”
“Can you light the trail instead? Big dude at the end paid extra for ‘more flash’.”
“You got it Deku. Toss ‘em up!”
With well-practised ease, Deku tosses an armful of shot glasses down the bar, reeling his hand with the motion. The short, heavy based vessels skid down the copper surface, clinking to a halt in a long line against the raised rolled edge. Katsuki grabs a bottle of cheap, but good, spiced rum and strolls along the bar, pouring into glasses and over the surface indiscriminately.
Then he lights the match.
“FREE SHOTS!” Deku hollers, cupping both hands around his mouth. “But you’ve gotta be fast!”
Katsuki drops the match.
Hands grab for glasses. It’s mere milliseconds before the flames lick up into the shots, and – unsurprisingly – Kirishima’s trio of drunk and happy friends are some of the fastest there, even though they just had new shots delivered to their table. There are whoops and cheers and hollers as the bar goes up in flames, and at Deku’s end, he lights his lime topped cocktails with a whoosh and earns a round of applause. Behind them, the digital tip jar chimes over and over, and Katsuki grabs a clean wash cloth and begins to wipe the soot traces off the bar as the fire burns out.
“Hey, pretty boy.” It is Kirishima's tall and lanky friend. The flirty one.
Katsuki clenches his free hand into a fist by his side. He will not fight with customers, he will not fight with customers, he will not fight with-
Tall and Lanky raps his knuckles on the bar.
“You. The cute and scowly one.”
“I will end you,” Katsuki barks, looking up to spear the hand reaching towards him with a glare. “Do not fucking touch me.”
“Sorry, dude. No harm meant.” Tall and Lanky sits back on his stool and pushes his now empty shot glass across to Katsuki. Katsuki catches it easily. “Can I have another?”
“Yooooooo!” Denki slides up suddenly and so far into his friend that they both nearly topple to the floor. “Sero my bro, bro, you cannot flirt with another bros barman. Bro…” Denki appears to lose his train of thought for a moment. “Why do you have a drink? Seroooooo…. Why don’t I have a drink?” He turns to Katsuki, doing a decent impression of a chaotic Labrador puppy. “Can I have a drink? Please? Please can I have a drink nice scowly pretty barman? I really want one and I was really, really good at work? Please?” He turns back to Sero. “Sero tell him it’s my birthday.”
“Denks-”
“Is it my birthday?”
“Denks…”
“I want something fancy with an umbrella in.”
Katsuki goes very still. Now would be a great time for the breathing exercises he has to work on for anger management. In-hold-out, in-hold-out, OK, better. Katsuki feels less like throwing the skinny blond moron out of his bar.
“One more. And then I’m cutting you off and you’re getting water and getting in a fucking cab.”
“Noooooo,” Denki wails. “C’mon barman-bro. Please. Kiri is gonna take us home, he’s my bro. He’s such a good bro. The best.”
“Oh thanks,” Sero mutters.
“Tch. I said you could have one more. What do you want?”
“Lightning,” Denki chirrups.
“Your hair is like a Pomeranian,” Mina says wistfully – having apparently appeared from fucking nowhere – chin in hands as she gazes up at Katsuki. “You’re like, really fucking pretty.”
Katsuki does not break the glass in his hand, but it’s a close thing.
“Sorry, sorry.” Kirishima is back in a whirl of wide eyes and a bright but pained smile. “Guys! Come back to the table?” he beseeches. “Leave Mister Bakugo to do his job.”
“Mister Bakugo?” Sero says, voice dripping with insinuation.
“Oh, you must really like him,” Mina chirps, “and I can absolutely see why.”
Katsuki really, really, wants to start knocking skulls together. He hates it when all people can say about him is how he looks, but as Deku is so fond of mentioning; if Katsuki didn’t want anyone to look at him, he wouldn’t spend so much time in the gym working on his definition.
“Guys… Please don’t.”
“Do you like our Kiri, Mister Bakugo?” Mina prods, jabbing her finger at Katsuki’s chest. “I can already tell he’s too good for you.”
“Sunshine bro.” Denki swivels on his stool, trying to look at Kirishima upside down. He falls off, but is saved from crash landing only by ending up in Sero’s lap, his head cradled in Kirishima’s very large hand.
Katsuki really does not need to visualise how big Kirishima's hands will be cradling his own head. Fuck.
“My hero,” Denki gushes. “Like a great big sunshine puppy.”
The tips of Kirishima’s ears go pink.
“Please Denks, for the love of the past decade of our friendship, please stop talking.”
“Kiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, make your pretty scowly boyfriend get me a drink.”
Kirishima’s cheeks get very pink, and the colour floods down the scooped neck of his undershirt. Katsuki wonders idly – not that he is not invested in how the big man looks with no shirt on– if Kirishima’s blush makes his nipples darken too. Katsuki chews his own tongue to stop himself from saying anything too cruel.
“I really am sorry about them,” Kirishima assures Katsuki, rubbing one hand in his hair. “I promise I’ll get them out of here really soon.”
“I gotta serve your friend here some lightning first, apparently.” Katsuki arches an eyebrow at the man across the bar. “And you still haven’t had anything to drink at all, Red.”
“You really don’t need to make a fuss- Sero where the heck are you going? Oh, crap I lost him.” Kirishima looks torn, but he is now supporting the bulk of Denki’s meagre weight, and doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. “I’ll have anything.”
“Anything?” Katsuki scowls. “So, you don’t think you deserve nice things?”
“Since when are you a nice thing, Kacchan?” Deku mutters as he passes behind Katsuki, voice too low for anyone else to hear. Katsuki snaps his teeth together, a pseudo-bite, but Deku also passes him a clean cocktail shaker and the lustre dust he’ll need for Denki’s drink, so Katsuki cannot be too mad.
“Hey, blond moron.”
Denki instantly perks up, like this is something he answers to a lot. Katsuki shakes his head and sighs. The guy is harmless enough, and Katsuki does like to have an enthralled audience. After all, he is a flair bartender; that’s kind of the point.
“You wanted lightning in a bottle, right?”
Katsuki rolls the chilled bottle of lightning mix – Timut pepper, citron tea, sugar and lemon juice – across his shoulders before swirling it around into the mixer. He flips the shining silver bottle of gin, spinning over and over like a star as it hangs in the air, and he pours with flourish. Denki, Kirishima, and half the bar, are watching with rapt fascination. Katsuki smirks.
“Ready?”
The bang-snap explodes against the copper bar surface, and it makes a perfect cover for Katsuki to add a dash on lustre to the shaker. He shakes vigorously, cracks the shaker’s lid off on the edge of the bar, then pours from above head height. In the hi-ball glass, the swirl of lightning yellow is cut through with flashes of molten silver – like lightning inside a thunder cloud – and Denki looks at him with stars in his eyes.
“Oh my gods, I’m in love.”
“Congrats on your promotion,” Katsuki says, popping a – completely unnecessary – umbrella in Denki’s drink and making the man squeal with happiness. “Now go sit at your table and chill, OK?”
“Okay….”
Denki wanders away, sipping his drink, and Mina slides off her stool to join him. Just before Kirishima can follow, Katsuki reaches out and wraps strong fingers around his wrist. Kirishima is warm, the heel of his hand has rough skin, like he works with them, and Katsuki can feel his pulse racing under his thumb.
“You going to let me choose a drink for you, Red?”
“Yeah…” Kirishima breathes his answer, sitting right back into his seat. “Please.”
“I think you should just call a cab for your friends and stay here, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure you can still drive fine. Deku! Grab me a tulip glass!”
“Overhead!”
Katsuki reaches up with his left arm, adjusts the angle of his shoulder backwards, and maintains eye contact with Kirishima as the glass lands directly in his palm. Kirishima’s pupils dilate until they are almost entirely black.
“Like that?” Katsuki asks him, still grinning.
Kirishima nods, lips wet and parted. Katsuki has to resist the urge to just grab the man and haul him into the backroom this instant.
It’s harder to be quite so flashy when pouring layered drinks, because they have to be poured slowly and precisely to create the perfect effect. Kirishima watches Katsuki pour orange juice, then cherry flavoured red syrup which slips down the side of the glass to make a layer at the bottom, then the blue club-soda. It floats, having been slowed by the diffusing spoon, to make a green layer and then bright blue layer to the top of Kirishima’s drink.
Katsuki places it on the bar in front of him with his best smile.
“Well, you wanted a rainbow, right Red?”
“Oh… fuck me.”
Katsuki does not say ‘yes please’, or ‘I’m planning on it’, or ‘get over here and get on your knees’. But he wants to. He really wants to.
“You’re welcome,” he manages, hoping to sound normal. “I’ve gotta go do a show piece with Deku. Don’t go anywhere, OK?”
“OK.” There’s a wobble in Kirishima's voice which makes Katsuki's knees weak. He’s never wanted to jump over the bar this badly without there being a fight to break up.
Flair bartending is all about panache, and show pieces are a big part of that. Katsuki knows he has stage presence and a personality – which, whilst not necessarily good for social conversation – makes him good to watch. Deku loves the show pieces, and he is better at the choreography – not that Katsuki tells him that very often, or the nerd will get a big head – but Katsuki has always preferred the kind of flair required to make drinks for individuals.
So much of the first part of the routine is meaningless fluff, but it looks great when he and Deku stand ten feet apart and toss bottles and shaker tins back and forth in a complex looking juggling routine. Things caught from the back look very fancy.
Soon, he and Deku are juggling and pouring out half a shot on every third toss, building up layers of dark Kahlua and unctuous Irish cream as they go. Katsuki pops another bottle over his shoulders as he and Deku step closer together, and Deku catches it on the back of his hand, amid cheers from the crowd.
They stay together, matching form and shape for another bottle and tin toss – complete with ice cubes to make it look and sound extra complex. The dance steps happen in the middle – no one can see them do it behind the bar, but it helps them keep rhythm, especially with no music. Katsuki thinks Deku looks stupid doing the moves in his appallingly unfashionable red sneakers, but it was part of their qualifying routine for nationals so they stick to it. Deku lobs a bottle for Katsuki to catch with his fucking chest – always a party pleaser – and he lets in slide down to his belt buckle before his bucks it up into his hand and pours a topper of absinthe along the row.
With the gunship shots complete, they do another set of back tosses, making it look deeply impressive as the bar lights flash on the flying coupe glasses which they build into a pyramid without looking. Deku pops the cork out of a bottle to complete a fancy champagne pour, and they bow side-by-side to finish with a flourish.
When Katsuki straightens, he looks right into a pair of wide, beautiful, amazed red eyes. Katsuki smirks, confidence rolling through his posture, and then there is a crash – not glassware, but furniture – from the table at the far side of the bar, near the windows. Kirishima blinks, his soft, shy, sweet edged grin, transforming into a pained look of exasperation, and without a word to Katsuki he turns to sprint away across the bar.
“So...” Deku drapes a freckled arm over Katsuki’s shoulder. “That’s going well.”
“Tch. Fuck off, Deku.”
“He’s your type,” Deku observes.
“Don’t tell me things I already know, Freckles.”
“He’s your type, and he seems smitten with you. That doesn’t happen often.”
“Tch.” Katsuki takes a deep breath and drops his voice to what passes for a whisper in the bar. “That doesn’t happen, ever.”
Deku takes a moment to scan the bar, green curls flopping in front of his eyes. Katsuki squints at his friend: he needs to re-do Deku’s undercut, which means Deku will need to tidy his up too.
“No more groups booked in, I can manage.”
“’Course you fucking can. Wouldn’t have you for my partner if you were shit at your job, Deku.”
“Awww, thanks Kacchan. That was practically a compliment.”
“Fuck off Deku.”
“Love you too Kacchan,” Deku chuckles, and strides off to the other end of the bar to make frozen margaritas.
Katsuki takes the time to wipe the alcohol off his hands, then ducks under the access hatch to the bar. He’s there, leaning against the copper surface when Kirishima returns. The table is righted, two of his three friends are seated, and Katsuki hands him over large tankards of water and ice without a word.
“You’re a lifesaver bro.”
“Hmmm,” Katsuki concurs. He does not like being called ‘bro’ by anybody, but especially not by Kirishima. ‘Bro’ is not sexy.
Kirishima vanishes to deliver the water, and then Katsuki is blinded by a smile which he is sure could eclipse the sun. Kirishima is so bright and so pleased to see him, and Katsuki preens, relaxing back against his bar as he crosses one ankle over the other.
“Well, hi there, Red.”
“Hey.” Kirishima’s smile droops slightly, and he glances back over one broad shoulder to where his friend Sero is now very much bodily flirting with a very distinctive regular. “Do you know him?”
“Fucking Half-and-Half? Yeah, we know him. He and Deku are friends or something.” Katsuki knows Deku would be annoyed with him for that, because Todoroki considers them all friends, even though Katsuki doesn’t quite know why. “Why, suddenly decided you prefer rich twinks to barmen?”
“What-? Fuck- no. I mean, Bakugo I-”
Katsuki chuckles.
“You’re alright Red. Worried about your friend?”
“Yeah. Sero says he wants to go home with him. And like, Sero is a good dude, and he can look after himself, but also, he’s drunk-ish. Is he going to be OK, with… Half-and-Half?”
“Todoroki,” Katsuki sighs. “Yeah, he’s cool. Your friend will be safe.”
“Yeah? Phew.” The tension leeches out of Kirishima's shoulders, a moment later, he slumps into the bar beside Katsuki, leaning heavily on his elbows, head hanging low between his shoulders. The position creates a swirl of thoughts which go directly to Katsuki's crotch, because Kirishima has a nice, broad back with a nipped waist, and an arse well sculpted and displayed by the cut of his jeans. “It’s a relief to only have two slightly drunk and very chaotic friends to manage.”
Katsuki glances at the table. Mina is scrolling on her phone and Denki is talking to his ice cubes as they swirl around in the tankard.
“They seem like they can manage by themselves for a bit.” Katsuki grins at Kirishima the moment the man’s eyes meet his. “You gonna stay in my company long enough to actually finish a drink this time?”
“Yes please,” Kirishima answers swiftly, but he pauses in the act of straightening up. “But… I don’t want to make you work on your break, Bakugo.”
“Well, I like that much better than ‘bro’,” Katsuki replies. He leans over the bar – something neither he or Deku would ever allow a patron to do – and grabs a pair of very chilled water bottles from the under-counter fridge. “Here. Hydrate, big guy.”
Kirishima, already with the bottle to his lips, gulps too hastily, eyes wide, spluttering at Katsuki’s words. Katsuki smirks; it is just the reaction he hoped for.
“So… water is less boring than soda?” Kirishima asks, after he recovers from coughing.
“Is that really what you want to ask me?”
“I- um-” Kirishima stares at him with wide eyes, mouth softly agape. “...Oh fuck I’ve forgotten how to talk to pretty guys.”
Katsuki bites his fist, because doubling over laughing at the guy he is trying to seduce probably isn’t a good look, but he cannot resist reaching out with his other hand. Katsuki means the touch to be reassuring, but Kirishima’s head has dropped again, and Katsuki’s palm ends up in his hair. Without hesitation, Katsuki ruffles the spiked mass Kirishima began the evening with, pulling his fingers through the surprisingly silky strands, until the man beneath his hand makes a noise Katsuki can only describe as a purr.
People don’t purr. Big guys with broad shoulders and tight waists and biceps the size of Katsuki’s thighs definitely don’t purr. But here Kirishima is – all the things that Katsuki longs for – purring under his palm.
“I think you’re doing just fine, Kirishima.”
“You- you called me by my name?”
“Mmmm…” Katsuki continues to rub the locks of Kirishima's hair in between his fingers as the other man straightens up. It keeps them closer together, and now Kirishima is facing him, hip cocked against the bar, his shoulder rounded to duck down to near Katsuki’s height. “Yes.”
“So… I must be special? That guy-” He jerks his head towards where Deku is high pouring a fancy long island ice tea. “-is your friend, and I’m pretty certain his name isn’t actually ‘Deku’. You don’t use anyone’s names.”
“Nope.” Katsuki grins, and drinks his water. He watches through his lashes as Kirishima watches him swallow. “Like you said; you must be special.” Katsuki moves the neck of the bottle away from his lips with exaggerated slowness, licking up the last droplets as he does so. “I think you’re a good boy, Kirishima.”
Kirishima whines. There’s no other word for it.
“I like that you look after your friends. Even though they are… enthusiastic about their drinks.”
“Responsibility is manly,” Kirishima responds. It makes almost no sense, and certainly shouldn’t be sexy, but something about Kirishima’s proud, self-assuredness makes Katsuki want to ravage him.
“Hmmmm,” Katsuki hums. Kirishima’s dedication to his friends is very attractive, but it is keeping Katsuki from dragging him backwards into the store room and kissing him senseless. “I was right. You’re definitely a good boy.”
“Hnnngh- fuck… Bakugo, you’re killing me.”
“Oh, am I?” Katsuki teases, combing another smooth lock of Kirishima's hair between his fingers. “You know, Baldy – Inasa, our doorman – he’s pretty manly. Very responsible.” Katsuki would never say any of this to the man’s face, but he does trust him to watch both his back, and the front of his bar. “He won’t let your friends leave without you, or with anyone else. And Deku’ll give them more water and ice.”
Katsuki angles his hips, moving forward half a step to put himself a single inch away from Kirishima from hips to lips.
“Kirishima…” Katsuki hooks a finger into the scooped neck of the other man’s shirt, but doesn’t pull him forward.
Kirishima bites his lower lip, the plump flesh indenting deeply, and the sight makes Katsuki feel suddenly hot. He hopes his palms aren’t sweaty. Kirishima’s hair is an attractive mess, and Katsuki really wants the opportunity to see if he can make Kirishima even more deliciously debauched.
“Bakugo...”
“I’m on break,” Katsuki murmurs, “your friends are safe. Come with me.” He exhales slowly. “Call me Katsuki.”
Kirishima smiles, smaller than before, but no less bright.
“Yes please… Katsuki.”
It is a very short walk from the bar into the backroom. Katsuki kicks the door closed behind them, knowing that it locks automatically, and not caring that it’s not even close to being soundproof. He grabs for Kirishima's hand, lacing their fingers together, then pushes the bigger man hard up against the stacked boxes of cleaning supplies and disposable sundries. Kirishima grunts, startled, blinking in the sudden brightness of the harsher lighting, and Katsuki leans into his advantage, and climbs him like a tree.
“Whoa-!”
“I’ll stop if you really want me to,” Katsuki growls into the tiny, warm space between their lips. “Just say the word, big guy.”
“Please… don’t.”
Kirishima’s whine is all Katsuki needs, and he seizes the other man’s jaw, bracketing him from chin to ear with one strong hand, smearing Kirishima’s plush lower lip with his thumb before licking directly into his mouth. Kirishima still tastes of the cherry syrup from the drink Katsuki made for him, and the sharp cut of his teeth is delicious against Katsuki's tongue. The other man seems startled for a minute, and then Kirishima is kissing him back, their teeth clacking just the once, before Katsuki angles Kirishima into a more compatible position. Kirishima groans, Katsuki bites and tugs at his lip and Kirishima whimpers deliciously. Big, big hands come to rest on Katsuki’s waist, and he arches into them, whole body pressed flush against Kirishima in order to relish every inch.
And there a lot of inches.
“How you feeling there, Red?”
“W-warm,” Kirishima pants. “Hot.”
“Fuck yeah.” Katsuki drags his fingers through Kirishima’s hair and uses the hold to break their kisses and tilt the other man’s face up, exposing the thick column of his neck. Katsuki licks at his throat, then kisses, and then sinks his teeth into the join of his neck and shoulder – too high up for Kirishima to cover up with a shirt collar. “Damn you taste good.”
“Nnnghhh…!” The sounds Kirishima makes whilst clearly trying to muffle himself are like music to Katsuki’s ears, and he rests back on his heels, wrapping his fist into Kirishima’s shirt, tugging the bigger man off balance. “Katsuki… please.”
“Please what, Red? Katsuki thumbs across Kirishima’s mouth again, and Kirishima’s tongue flickers in an unconscious effort to catch him. “What do you want me to do to you? You’re a good boy, aren’t you Kiri?”
“Yes-”
“You wanna show me how good you are, right?”
“Hnngh.”
Katsuki preens. Kirishima is blushing and dishevelled and beautiful, eyes blown so wide they are almost black. Katsuki strokes through his hair, before leading Kirishima with a soft pull.
“Down. Good boy.”
Kirishima’s hands are big on his hips, huge, and it’s such a fucking turn on to have someone so obviously strong and powerful – an idle part of Katsuki's brain wonders what it is the other man does for a living and kicks himself mentally for not finding out – so willing to drop to their knees for him. And drop Kirishima does, seemingly without concern for his own comfort or ability to use his knees later on.
Katsuki makes quick work of his own belt and fly, loving the sight of his open clothes between Kirishima’s thumbs. Kirishima makes a truly sinful noise of delight as Katsuki’s cock emerges from his underwear with a quick bob, the weight too great to do anything as springy as smack himself in the belly.
“Oh, fuck me…”
“Believe me, I’m going to.”
“Katsuki?” Kirishima looks up at him like a hopeful puppy, and Katsuki coos softly, and strokes his cheek.
“Yeah, Red. Later. Later I’m gonna rail you so hard you’re not even gonna remember your own name.” Katsuki growls – a threat and a promise all in one. “Bet you’re gonna sound so fucking beautiful when you’re crying my name.”
“So manly,” Kirishima whispers reverentially.
Katsuki can’t help but chuckle.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Kirishima.” He bends down to kiss the red-head, the angle is odd and the press of lips is over to fast. Then Katsuki straightens and wraps a hand around the base of his cock. “Now, you wanna show me what else that mouth can do?”
“Yes ple-fhhh-!”
“There’s my good boy,” Katsuki purrs, watching as Kirishima stops his momentary surprised struggle, settling into the invasion of Katsuki’s cock in his mouth. “Yeah, Red. Just like that. Good boy, get it nice and wet.”
Katsuki did not know it was possible for someone to preen with their lips stretched around cock, but Kirishima manages, and fuck he looks so good doing it. Kirishima’s dark lashes flutter, a charcoal smudge against his blush-pink cheek, and a sliver of hungry, perfectly needy crimson eyes flash up at Katsuki as Kirishima sinks a little deeper on his cock, moulding his tongue against the underside. He draws back, lips pursed softly, the tip of his tongue poking sweetly, playing with the edge of Katsuki’s foreskin. Katsuki rocks his hips forward, a wordless instruction, and Kirishima opens his jaw wider, but whines. Obviously, Katsuki isn’t giving him everything he wants.
“Aren’t you a sight? C’mon baby, open up for me.” Katsuki rubs a circle into Kirishima's cheek with his thumb, and Kirishima hollows his mouth obediently. This time, he groans softly with his mouth full, and Katsuki smiles. “Yeah, that’s right, Red. Deeper. Good boy.”
Kirishima moans, and the vibrations feel amazing.
“My good boy,” Katsuki tries. He loves the feel of it in his mouth, and evidently Kirishima agrees, because the big hands around Katsuki's hips tighten to a hair less than painful, Kirishima's fingertips pressing hard into the dimples which frame Katsuki's lower back. “Yeah. That’s it. My good boy.”
Katsuki runs his fingers through Kirishima’s hair again, dragging it away from his face, before he angles his hips and pulls his cock from Kirishima’s mouth. The other man just stays there, lips parted in a perfect ‘o’, and Katsuki feels his heart stutter at the sight of his cock and Kirishima’s mouth connected by a shiny string of saliva.
“You OK there?”
Kirishima nods, the corners of his eyes damp, his mouth even more so.
“Good. Good boy.” Katsuki uses his hold in Kirishima’s hair to angle his face more perfectly, forcing the bigger man to curve his spine and tuck himself between Katsuki spread feet. “That’s it, your mouth is fucking perfect. So good, Kiri. Mmmm…”
Kirishima hums around his cock, and Katsuki’s hips jerk forward at the jolt of pleasure.
“Fuck- yeah. Just like that. Pinch my thigh if you want to stop. OK, handsome?”
Kirishima blinks up at him, eyes suddenly wide and filled with puzzlement.
“Oh, sweet pretty thing,” Katsuki slips his fingers down the side of Kirishima’s jaw skimming over the tender flesh of his throat. “I wanna wreck you, not hurt you.” Katsuki thrusts forward – slowly this time – until the head of his cock bumps up against the back of Kirishima’s throat. He smiles down at him, holding tight as he pushes forward past Kirishima’s gag reflex. The tightness around his cock as Kirishima swallows is heavenly. “Perfect baby. Perfect.”
Katsuki wraps his hand under Kirishima’s jaw, and starts making short, soft thrusts, staying deep so that he can feel his cock in his palm through the thin skin of Kirishima’s neck. It’s fucking intense. Kirishima gazes up at him, cheeks pink and eyes wet, and Katsuki pulls back until he sees the other man inhale deeply.
“That’s right. Good boy. You know what to do if it’s too much, yeah?”
Kirishima nods as best he can, but Katsuki stares down at him, hard.
“Show me, Kirishima. There’s no shame in knowing where your limits are…. I’d bet you’d say it is manly, or some shit, right?”
In response, Kirishima pinches his thigh, then jerks forward to swallow around Katsuki's cock, and Katsuki snarls at him.
“You brat. Fuck. Hnnnngh…. Gods you’re so good at that though.”
Kirishima squeezes Katsuki's hips tightly, and Katsuki rewards him by fucking directly down his throat as far as he can. Tears roll down Kirishima's cheeks, and Katsuki snarls.
“Holy fucking shit- yes, oh good boy. My good boy.”
Katsuki can’t look away: the vision he’s witnessing is too perfect to miss out on. Kirishima looks utterly debauched, his hair a mess where Katsuki is alternately grabbing and stroking it, tears clinging to his lashes as he sucks Katsuki's soul and his self-control out through his dick. His mouth is heavenly, his tongue so quick and clever to tease whenever Katsuki pulls back far enough to let him, and Katsuki knows he’s never talked so much during sex before.
“Gods, you’re so fucking delicious. Shit- Red, I want to you on your knees all the damn time.” Katsuki punctuates his thoughts with a groan and a deep grind of his cock into Kirishima's throat, and Kirishima blinks up at him like there’s nowhere else he would rather be. “Just wanna put you under the bar, get you a nice comfy cushion to kneel on, have you ready for my cock.”
Kirishima groans and Katsuki pulls his hair, probably too hard, at the image. It’s filthy and delectable in equal measure. Impossible, but that doesn’t do any harm to the fantasy.
“Have to change the flair routine, can’t do all that damn dancing around if I’ve got you and your velvet throat keep my cock warm, hmmm?” Katsuki’s hips stutter. The fantasy is good, but the reality is better. Kirishima is drooling around his cock even as he gazes up at Katsuki, eyes shining with pleasure, and he swallows, throat working around Katsuki’s length, eagerly, desperately. Katsuki is ruined for any other blow job; nothing could be better than this.
“That’s it, yeah, my good boy. So fucking good. You’re so pretty Red, so good to me.” Katsuki snarls as Kirishima sucks him hard on the next thrust, the hold on his hips tightening until the pair of them are welded tight to each other. “Oh fuck- fuck! Kiri I-”
Katsuki feels the edge of his orgasm – lingering in his mind since the moment he pushed Kirishima to his knees – crest suddenly, unexpected, and it crashes over him in a flood of explosive pleasure. His self-control vanishes as his hips snap forward, forcing himself deep into Kirishima’s throat, cutting off his airway completely as he comes. Kirishima is clawing at the back of his thighs and his arse but Katsuki cannot help himself, fists tight in Kirishima's thick hair as he fucks his spend into the other man.
And then Katsuki’s knees and thighs decide they cannot support him any longer and he collapses onto Kirishima’s shoulders and over his head, unable to stop them both from falling over in a tangled heap.
Suddenly, Katsuki remembers his partner cannot breathe.
“Fuck! Fuck, oh fuck, fuck. Shit- Kirishima are you OK? Fuck- Kiri- baby- Red, oh gods talk to me, are you alright?”
Kirishima coughs, wheezes for a second as his lungs expand, and then he collapses back on the floor, dragging Katsuki down with him, laughing hoarsely.
“Oi-! You fucker- what the-”
Kirishima yanks Katsuki into a better position across his chest, then hauls him down by his shirt front to kiss him.
“Katsuki,” he rumbles, and then chuckles. “Wow, I really do sound like I spent the last twenty minutes gargling your cock.”
“Kirishima-”
“I didn’t tap out; you’re good. Very manly of you to worry so much though.” Kirishima grins at him, cocky and self-assured and oh so enticing. “You’d better not be this nice to everyone who makes eyes at you across the bar.”
“Fuck that. I’m not this nice to anyone. Ever.”
“I feel special.” Kirishima chirrups happily.
“You are.” Katsuki leans up, bracing his hands on the floor either side of Kirishima's head, and stares hard down at the other man. His lips are swollen and bruised and so kissable and Katsuki wants nothing more than to go boneless in his arms for the hour it’ll take him to recover before he’s up for another round of athletic sex. But he needs to know something first. “You enjoyed it?”
“Katsuki...” Kirishima arches an eyebrow at him and Katsuki decides he really likes hearing his name said all gravely and low like that. “I just came in my fucking clothes like a teenager and you are worried I didn’t have fun? Are you mad?”
“You- really-?” Katsuki replays again the way Kirishima's eyelashes fluttered, the sound and feeling of his moans, the power-trip of having the big man underneath him. “Fuck that’s so hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Come home with me, Red. Still gotta rail you through the mattress.”
“I mean, I don’t usually put out on the first date,” Kirishima says, grinning wildly.
Katsuki jumps to his feet and yanks Kirishima up after him.
“Then stay for breakfast.”
“Oh.” Kirishima beams. “Yes please. We have to take my friends home first, though.”
Katsuki groans.
“Responsibility is manly?” he guesses, and is rewarded with an excellent, spine melting kiss for his trouble. “Fine, fine. You’d better not have some tacky piece of shit car though.”
*
Kirishima’s car is a black hatchback with red flame decals. Katsuki hates it on sight.
It doesn’t matter though, because he gets Kirishima to park it on his driveway, and the big man doesn’t leave for nearly a week.
Katsuki’s neighbours get used to the car. And the big trunk does turn out to be handy for taking their suitcases to the airport when Deku, Katsuki, and Kirishima fly out to Las Vegas for the World Championships.