any way you want me

by terimune

Summary:

"Talk to me already," Izuku begs, voice weighed with exhaustion like he had just run a marathon. "Just what exactly are you achieving by keeping this up? Right now and right here of all places?" he half-yells through the cacophonous gusts of wind.

A white-hot flash of anger pulses in Katsuki's vision.

He storms up to Izuku to jab a finger into his coat. "Don't you dare talk about appropriate time and places when your ass is lugging a dead fucking body with us while we're stranded in the middle of goddamn nowhere!"

As if on cue, his eyes are dragged to the rope held in Izuku's gloved hand, leading to the motionless figure hidden beneath a black sleeping bag, concealed and tied with rope.

White.

It expands from every inch of the ground surface to miles ahead in every direction. Even the edges into the far distance that Katsuki is physically capable of seeing rounds out into nothing but a globe of blankness.

No trees, no shrubs, no semblance of life; the only colour that paints the canvas besides the two men is the grey daggered edges of the rocky cliffs peeking behind the blanket of snow.

An ache pulses behind Katsuki's eyes, blinded by the brilliance of the snow. He wishes he hadn't lost his goggles. Shit.

The shuffling behind Katsuki is persistent too, the sound of heavy layers of fabric sliding on fabric.

"Kacchan."

The wind whips so violently around them that the word is almost lost under its tune. For a moment, Katsuki pretends that the offending noise is part of that melody.

"Kacchan."

An eye twitches. Teeth grit together. Fists clenched. Katsuki stays silent nonetheless.

The rhythmic crumpling of snow crushed underneath heavy boots halts behind him. "Katsuki!"

Katsuki stops in his tracks to look up at the pale sky. He closes his eyes and lets the bitter cold bite at his lungs, imagining that it cools the tinders of fire scorching him from within.

He's grown older now. Anger didn't scratch his vocal cords anymore, it didn't leave his palms scorched with heat, vision blurred with wet fury, or even give him the adrenaline it once did.

Now, it seeps out of his pores like toxic waste. A silent, cut-throat violence.

If his fingers weren't numbed to the bone by the kiss of the cold, he'd feel his fist clench underneath the three layers of gloves he's wearing before turning around and facing the perpetrator of his fury.

Izuku tears off his mirrored ski goggles and tugs down the bottom half of his full-faced beanie to reveal flushed cheeks. The loose curls peeking out of his hat whip around in the wind and leave him half-squinting at Katsuki.

"Talk to me already," he begs, weighed with exasperation like he had just run a marathon. "Just what exactly are you achieving by keeping this up? Right now and right here of all places?" Izuku has to half-yell through the cacophonous gusts of wind.

A white-hot flash of anger pulses in Katsuki's vision.

He storms up to Izuku to jab a finger into his coat. "Don't you dare talk about appropriate time and places when your ass is lugging a dead fucking body with us while we're stranded in the middle of goddamn nowhere!"

As if on cue, his eyes are dragged to the rope held in Izuku's gloved hand, leading to the motionless figure hidden beneath a black sleeping bag, concealed and tied with rope.

Izuku is quick to defend. "He's alive, I know he's alive, how many times do I have to tell you? And in case you forgot, we're a team—"

"A team? A team?" Katsuki roars. The ski mask covering his mouth muffles his voice so he tears it off and bunches it in his fist. "Your incompetence with carrying out any goddamn thing you've been assigned to makes you nothing but a dead weight to me."

Izuku rubs his forehead as if he's already exhausted by the exchange, as if he is the one who's dealing with an intolerable child refusing to listen.

"What the hell do you want me to do, Kacchan?" He looks back at Katsuki, eyebrows furrowed and voice tamed with precise control. Katsuki's lips twitch. "The mission is to rescue as many people as we can–I'm doing that."

There's some degree of truth in that, Katsuki knows. In the wake of a 6.0 magnitude earthquake overtaking cities and rural areas, heroes all over the country were deployed in several areas as a rescue effort to reduce damages and casualties.

After the war with Shigaraki and his troops, being a hero was no longer the glorified, media-centric, overpopulated career it once was, at least not to its previous extent. The hero industry was fragile and just barely pulling itself back on its feet after five gruesome years of body recoveries, mass resignations, investigations into government corruption, and attempts to earn back the hope and trust of civilians.

Due to the thousands of heroes lost from casualties in the war, dead or alive, the lack of specialized heroes suited for certain landscapes and missions are now replaced by the remaining heroes who stretch themselves thin to cover for the difference.

Katsuki's skills are best suited for the first-line offence within wide, empty terrains while methodically using building structures to his advantage. Izuku's skills are best suited for, well, just about anything given his multiple quirks, so long as he’s done his research.

And both of them, as unfortunate as they are, are now deployed at the Ponotara Highlands to rescue the avalanche survivors from a secluded village deep in the mountains. It's ironic, considering this is the worst possible environment for Katsuki to use his quirk even if he wanted to, and Izuku can't use any of his quirks lest it sets off any more avalanches.

The village folks were all dead on arrival, crushed under the weight of the collapsed snow. Izuku had frozen in place right there, eyes blank while fixated on the wrinkled, liver-spotted hand protruding under a demolished home.

An hour later, after Katsuki had scoped out the entire area on his side, Izuku had dashed up to him, eyes wild and frantic and babbling on about seeing some man's hand twist.

The poor dude had his neck snapped at an awkward angle. The snow had seeped into his thin clothes and clung to his pale skin. Two broken legs, a caved-in chest, purpling fingers and toes, and assumed internal bleeding.

There was no question that he was a goner, but only in Katsuki's eyes, apparently.

It brings them to the present.

"In case you forgot," Katsuki spits out, "our signal flares are soaked. We lost communication with the base camp. You lost half of our resources," he says, eyeing the absence of a backpack on Izuku. The twenty-pound thing had to be spared when Izuku made a false step and needed Katsuki to pull him out of a crevasse.

Katsuki huffs and gestures toward the lump behind Izuku. "And this is all we've got to show our efforts."

Izuku glares back and crosses his arms, which frankly looks ridiculous to do in that giant, puffed-up, navy-blue jacket. "We're heroes, Kacchan. If there's the slightest chance that he might live, I'm going to give him that chance."

Katsuki laughs bitterly. "Great! Isn't that fucking great! Pro-hero Deku, the martyr of our generation, swooping in to gift the world with his graces!" He grandly gestures with his arms, swooping wide and open like a politician giving a speech. "God, I bet he'll be so happy that he'll just come back to life, huh?!"

Izuku reels back from Katsuki's booming voice, echoing into the surrounding emptiness. "He will. He's still breathing," Izuku says firmly.

"Will he now?" Katsuki scoffs. "Living off of life support for two days max is breathing but it ain't living."

Puffs of condensation exchange between them, smoke mingling together as it meets in the middle, twirling, intangible, seamless just like them.

Now, Izuku looks almost guilty, eyes darting to the side, head ducked low.

Something clicks inside of Katsuki at the sight of that look, that cornered animal that needs one more push until it gives in to the pressure.

Katsuki wants to see it. Isn't that what it was about, back then? Pushing and shoving to break the limit, to test and examine and analyze what the boundary was between Katsuki and Deku, what exactly made him so different.

That old habit of Deku's, that reflex to shrink into himself in the face of Katsuki's prowess–it's familiar. It's grounding. It's an anchor, and Katsuk knows he shouldn't, he knows he's grown from that past but god is it easy to take the bait.

Katsuki cocks his head to the side. "Is that what it is then, huh?" There's a small grin plastered on his face, dripping in falsities. It's an expression he's worn before, like wearing your childhood clothes after years of abandonment. It feels off. It's tight in some places.

But the material knows you just as much as you know it.

Izuku looks up at him, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes, shielding those confused eyes. "What?"

Katsuki takes a step forward.

"You know we're going to die dragging him on our way down the mountain," Katsuki drawls. "In fact, you're betting on it, aren't you?"

Katsuki watches in fascination, the progression on Izuku's face, from the contour of his lip tugging up, eyes sharpening into an angle just the way he likes it. Being in the face of Izuku's bitterness is an honour.

And Katsuki could say that he couldn’t help it when he puts even more fuel to the fire, but he certainly could if he wanted to.

"I thought you were Japan's Golden Boy," Katsuki says, looming over Izuku.

They're the same height now. Katsuki once hated it enough to the point where he refused to talk to Izuku, but he loves it too. There's something to be said about the intensity of facing a man eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, no less if it's his Deku. The mix of shame and thrill is an elixir.

Their jackets brush against one another as Katsuki's lips graze Izuku's ear. "You know what I think?" he growls.

Izuku doesn't flinch or move back. He never does that anymore, and Katsuki can't seem to pinpoint when exactly that changed.

"I think," Katsuki murmurs low, "you actually have no intention of saving him."

The silence is thick and heavy, unwilling to the wind.

"Be careful what you're trying to say, Kacchan," Izuku grits through his teeth.

Katsuki's eyes linger on the movement of Izuku's throat. There's a visceral need in him to feel the heat of it, the vibrations emitting from his voice.

"You want to be remembered as a hero who died trying to save someone so you're dragging him down with you."

A kick at his shin, so hard that Katsuki stumbles back, only to meet a punch to the face with a harsh wack.

The world whizzes into a flurry of white and greys and Izuku's navy jacket until the snow gives into his weight and he's staring at the sky.

Deku punched him.

Deku punched him.

Deku punched him.

Katsuki has to hold in a laugh, at a loss of words. Izuku's punches are more than familiar to him, he's faced its good-hearted brutality countless times but seldom outside of sparring.

His smirk dissipates as soon as Izuku climbs on top of Katsuki, straddling his torso and yanking Katsuki up by the collar of his jacket. Katsuki almost makes a snarky comment before he gathers a good look at Izuku.

Nobody, nobody in the world wore fury better than Midoriya Izuku. Not that he barely reveals it, no, it's an absolute given in the face of the most vicious of villains, but directed towards Katsuki?

It's invigorating.

"What is wrong with you?" Izuku hisses. His anger is written in a different language than Katsuki's. Low, deep, controlled. Coals simmering in a flame.

Izuku always brings out the tattered clumps of what Katsuki convinces himself to have abandoned long ago. It's not repressed or caged away. It's a subconscious that only reveals itself in Izuku's presence. It belongs to Izuku and Izuku only. It's only right that he passes his verdict onto it, to pry it apart and dangle it in Katsuki's face. If he says there's something wrong with Katsuki, then there must be.

Izuku digs his gloved fingers into Katsuki's shoulders, posture shaking in an odd fragility.

"What's wrong with me?" Katsuki numbly repeats. Warm blood trails down his lips, trickling into his mouth and between the crevices of his teeth like dye.

He's fucked up, he can feel Deku's evident disappointment. It's gut-wrenching, but there's a dreadful giddiness at the prospect of sabotaging everything that remains of their relationship and Katsuki doesn't know why.

"You're what's wrong with me," Katsuki finally grits out. "I hit the spot, didn't I? I'm out here busting my ass out for a pathetic wimp like you who thinks that saving a dead body makes up for the fuck-up that you are!"

Nothing. Katsuki gets nothing, not a single flinch from Izuku. In fact, he doesn't do much at all. His dark hair falls over his even darker eyes, flickering over Katsuki's features. A quiet observation and a silent judgment. It's eerie the way that Izuku has learned how to control his emotions. He's acquired the art of repression and mastered it, better than Katsuki, because Katsuki explodes when he holds it in for too long and Izuku’s been burdened with worse.

"You wanna die down this hill with me and our lucky friend here so badly? I'm sure when the winter is done with our dead fucking corpses everyone will know what a great hero you are, you must have been so strong and resilient and brave for pushing through! I'm just your funny lackey joining you on your suicide trip for the ride, right?! You just—"

The weight on Katsuki's chest is lifted off with Izuku abruptly standing up.

Katsuki cuts off, struck by the shocking sight of Izuku walking away. He scrambles to get up on his feet, stumbling with the stiff weight of his layered clothing.

"Hey!" Katsuki bellows, panic setting deep into his chest at the sight of Izuku's figure strutting away, shoulders hunched up to his ears and dragging the man rolled up in the sleeping bag behind him.

A snowy gust of wind blows so brutally right there and then that Katsuki's beanie flies off of his head, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. His eyes burn with the effort of keeping them open, fully expecting Izuku to stop and turn around and come back to him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Deku!" His voice is raw and guttural, every ounce of desperation poured into it so Izuku can taste it in the air and come back.

Look at me, he thinks. Please look at me.

Izuku rounds past the hill they had just passed, disappearing out of his sight. Katsuki waits for a single beat. Then two. Then three. He counts up to 307 by the time he realizes that Izuku is not coming back for him.

For the first time since they've begun this mission, Katsuki realizes that he's cold. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. He can’t even feel the throbbing in his nose.

Numbly, he rips his eyes away from the scene and turns in the opposite direction, forcing his legs to move one after the other. He violently shrugs off his backpack, dumping it behind him unseeingly.

Deku might come back for it. He'll come back to this exact spot and he'll find the backpack and he might just make it out with his dead corpse buddy after all.

The longer Katsuki blindly walks, the faster the ache in his chest manifests into anger. His eyes blur with the water. It must be the wind being irritably persistent, that's all.

At some point, maybe twenty minutes later, maybe an hour, who knows, the uneven, inclined landscape transitions into pine trees nestled closely together. He catches himself just in time to stop at the edge of the mountain cliffs, where the snow steeply slopes downwards towards a frozen riverbank, glistening in the setting sun.

From here, he can see mountains surrounding him from all sides, some big, some small, some far enough that the fog makes them look translucent among the darkening sky.

A vulture caws obnoxiously above him, earning a squint from Katsuki as he watches it soar across the sky. His feet sink lower into the ground but it's already too late for him to realize his mistake when a sheet of icy snow splits from his previous feet impressions.

Katsuki watches in horror as the split accelerates further, plumes of powder exploding into the dry air. A sound mightier than thunder echoes across the mountain peaks, a warning of the violence to come just as packs of snow travel toward him at an unfathomable speed.

Katsuki stands frozen, his heart dropping to the pits of his stomach.

Within mere seconds, the weight of the snow slams into his back. He can feel himself rolling in the frigid white, a solid pain silencing his cry for it has nowhere to go.

For a split second, his head is out of the tumbling snow, only to feel the dread of seeing that he's about to slam head-first into the river.

The momentum of the avalanche slows as it hits the ground floor, just enough that the ice of the river hadn't shattered like glass upon impact. Instead, Katsuki's head bounces with a dull thud, and a few seconds pass before the ice opens up under his weight and swallows him whole, dragging him into its raw chill.

 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

 

An ache pulses deep inside Katsuki like a radiation burn from a live antenna.

Katsuki's never known a cold that burns so hot. It numbs out eventually, he notices from the haze of his unconsciousness. It levels off like a heart monitor going flat and the pain is really just the new definition of normal.

There's a sense of euphoria to it, being unconcerned about the state of his body when he can't feel his arms or legs—or anything at all, besides the laboured breaths his body forces into his lungs.

He does feel that his weight is being held by something that's moving, not through the sense of touch but just the vague knowing that there is something solid keeping him upright.

Someone's talking to him, Katsuki thinks. A voice blabbers into his ear about something or someone or god knows what but it might be talking to him. It's annoying and the sound grates his ears when he's trying to sleep, goddamnit.

There's an urgency to the voice, however, and this should technically alarm Katsuki. It's shrill and mousey and wobbles like the violin belonging to the untrained. Katsuki tries to seek it out with whatever control he has over his body, just for his cheeks to meet something warm.

The vocal cords of whoever is speaking vibrates underneath his skin, like the inner layers of Earth's core; a hot, dense ball of iron thrumming under crust and mantle and all that conceals its warmth.

Katsuki snuggles closer to the source, rubbing his face into it as if he could physically submerge in the heat.

It feels like bliss.

 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

 

Coming to consciousness feels like lava being poured all over his skin. Katsuki gasps at the sensation, trillions of scorching needles pricking his skin.

He sluggishly thrashes in place with pain. He's on solid, dry ground, certainly not ice or snow. A warm hand rubs at his back, repeated strokes going up and down and it both eases and discomforts his skin even more, lighting every nerve on fire.

"Kacchan, Kacchan," Izuku's voice cuts through Katsuki's fatigued mind, instantly making him crack his eyes open.

Green encompasses his entire vision, blurry under the film of pain that cracks Katsuki open like a raw wound exposed to the viscous elements of the earth.

Katsuki groans deep from his chest, squeezing his eyes and rolling his head side to side. He curls and uncurls his fists again and again, squeezing hard in hopes of stopping the violent rush of hot blood that courses through his capillaries like a flooding pipe.

Arms scoot underneath his back and under his knees to lift him up, jostling his body with each step before he's placed back down on the ground again. He can now feel a cool gust of wind, slowly soothing him with physical relief.

"Sorry, sorry, it didn't occur to me that too much heat at once would hurt you like this," Izuku says, distraught.

Katsuki inhales deeply, grounding himself by sitting on his knees and digging his palms into the rough ground. Slow, deep breaths bring him closer to the equilibrium he needs.

When he opens his eyes again, he half expects to be greeted with the familiar sight of bleached hospital walls, or anything that resembles something with four enclosed walls.

Instead, he's in a cave residing within a mountain, and looking out towards an endless field of snow that looks almost blue in the night. It looks pretty. Serene, almost, if the wind wasn't howling like a hoard of wolves.

A sniff behind Katsuki takes his attention away from the scene.

Izuku is sitting on the cool floor of the cave with an arm resting on his upright knee, back leaning against the curved wall. His head is tilted back, eyes slit open just enough to look at Katsuki, or rather, analyze him, eyes darting to each part of Katsuki's body. He's thrumming with the silent question of 'Are you okay?'

But Izuku knows Katsuki enough to know what's worth asking and what's worth judging on his own.

Most alarming out of everything, or perhaps it really shouldn't be, is the way that Izuku's wearing nothing besides his boxers. Katsuki's eyes dart to the fireplace next to him, a crackling, warm light that illuminates the freckled slopes and dents of Izuku's bare skin.

Katsuki looks down at himself and finds that he's wearing absolutely nothing, only concealed by the blanket draped over his lap. For now, he skips over this detail, because he only cares about one thing only.

"You came back," Katsuki's voice rasps. It's impossible to hide the fragility he feels, bleeding into his words.

The jut of Izuku's throat moves as he swallows. Katsuki can just barely catch the glint of water in Izuku's eyes before he lowers his head in submission, bangs falling over his face. "I did. I came back, Kacchan."

The snaps and pops of the fire along with the harmonic pitch of the wind work in tandem to fill their shared silence.

Katsuki takes the moment to assess his surroundings. The cave is more narrow the deeper it goes, where Katsuki and Izuku's clothes are draped over a bag. It's the same bag he hastily left behind for Izuku.

A cold weight slides down Katsuki's stomach when he realizes that there is one thing that is missing. "Where's your guy?"

Izuku looks like he's gathering the will to speak but there's nothing to be said that Katsuki hasn't already deduced by the time he opens his mouth.

"I left him."

There should be a self-righteous part of Katsuki that thrums to life, a self-righteous 'Good, I told you he was just baggage' but there's absolutely none of that in Katsuki. All he feels is the crushing weight of guilt.

Katsuki huffs a flat breath, bringing his knees closer to himself. "Shoulda left me there. You made the wrong move."

"Everything I do is the wrong move to you. I would have picked you over him and you knew that," Izuku says.

When Katsuki looks at Izuku, the other man meets him with the same intense focus.

Katsuki hates this. Everything between him and Izuku feels cold and distant like they're two jagged pieces of glass that cut each other at every forcible attempt to fit despite belonging to the same whole. Izuku is kind and gentle with everyone, but this side of him is specifically reserved for Katsuki. He's built his own system of carefully constructed responses and attitudes for Katsuki only. In a way, Katsuki is grateful that Izuku knows how to protect himself better than Katsuki can wound him, but it still feels like talking through a two-way mirror.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Katsuki wills himself to speak. "I shouldn't have made you pick," he says. "Sorry."

Izuku shakes his head, a small but sad quivering to it. "No, no. You were right about the man. There was no way he could have survived, especially given our circumstances. I was just desperate…it would have ended up jeopardizing both of our lives."

Katsuki opens his mouth to reply—

"But you were wrong though. About me wanting to save him because it–it gave me some heroic sense of vindication or something. It hurt me to know that you thought of me like that." Izuku gnaws at his lower lip, looking at Katsuki as if he's still trying to figure out if he still thinks of him like that.

"I knew that," Katsuki resigns, bitterly.

"Knew what?"

"That it hurt you. I was just trying to push your buttons so you'd let go of the dude, even if it made you angry."

Izuku gives a sudden chuckle. "Make me angry, huh?" he says, like it's amusing. "You did a good job of it. I'm sorry I punched you, Kacchan."

"No you're not, you bastard," Katsuki smirks, the throbbing in his nose a solid reminder. Izuku gives a dorkish smile back, shaking his head to himself.

The punch felt satisfying, but he won't admit that for shit. It's not the act in itself that does it for Katsuki, but rather that being on the other side of Izuku's anger makes up for the fact that he's not on the other side of his admiration anymore.

They're twenty-seven years old now, both at the peak of their careers. The light at the end of the tunnel has consumed them both ever since they knew what being a hero meant, and childish things like nostalgia and jealousy and envy shouldn't matter anymore.

Katsuki wiggles his fingers, testing the pinpricks that give life to his sensitive nerves. The tiny hairs all over his body finally stand up straight in response to the gust of wind that's sent their way, a whistle that bends the wavering flame of the fireplace for a brief moment.

Izuku clears his throat. "I set the extra sleeping bag for you when I brought us in. You need to rest so…"

"How did you find me?" Katsuki cuts in.

Izuku fiddles with his hands, eyes straying to the fire. "I was on my way back to you when I heard this loud noise from your direction so I ran and—you were—" Izuku suddenly pauses. His lips falter around the words he's trying to say, Katsuki patiently watching.

Izuku inhales sharply before speaking again. "I didn't see you anywhere when I got to the top of that hill but there was a hole in the river and I knew it had to be you so I used my quirk and jumped in."

Katsuki hums. No wonder Izuku's practically naked too. Their wet clothes would have sent them both into hypothermia. It makes him wonder just how long it took to find this cave in the state they both were in. Izuku really is something.

The single sleeping bag next to the fireplace is wrinkled and has its zip open. Katsuki can't imagine that Izuku had sat against that wall the entire time in his boxers.

"What'd you do after that," not particularly a question from Katsuki, not when the impulsive images that flash through his mind answered more than enough.

"...You were still hypothermic and it took a while for the fire to start going so I had to find a way to conserve heat, so I, ah—the appropriate measure…would have been to share the same space for a while…" Izuku says. "I'm sorry if that thought makes you uncomfortable," he adds, like saving their lives needs an apology.

Katsuki stays silent. There's something odd that unravels inside of him at the thought of being confined within the same vicinity as Izuku.

He imagines it step-by-step, a shivering, wet Izuku stumbling into the nearest shelter he could find, carrying the weight of his half-dead childhood friend on his back. He'd lay him on the sleeping bag he assembled with the scraps of a flame starting next to him. Numb, nimble fingers would tug open the buttons of Katsuki's jacket and pull the zipper down, the metal biting at his skin with its frost. The wool pullover would come next, then the crewneck shirt underneath that, then his undershirt, all of which would cling to Katsuki's wet body.

Those same mangled, scarred fingers would hook themselves into Katsuki's insulated snow pants and all the layers underneath until—

Like an erased cassette tape, the next scene blanks out, leaving nothing to imagine in its silence.

Get a grip on yourself, Katsuki thinks to himself. They're coworkers. They've seen each other at their lows countless times. This is nothing.

Shakily, he gets up on his feet with the blanket and gets hit with a wave of nausea that has him stumbling. He catches himself on the stone edge of the wall just as Izuku blurts out the first syllable of Katsuki's name—no doubt an annoying counsel for him to stay seated but Katsuki silences it with a glare, weakened by the pounding in his head.

He gets into the sleeping bag, sliding his legs into the sleek material and settling himself in, arranging the blanket so it serves as a second layer. He turns onto his side and meets Izuku's gaze, who watches him curiously from the opposite wall.

"You think we're gonna get out of here?" Katsuki asks.

They're stranded in the middle of nowhere. Soaked flares, a lost walkie-talkie, and no means of communication with the base camp or any of their team members. They're screwed.

"I don't really know," Izuku says. "I gathered some extra sticks while getting things for the fire and made an SOS signal just outside the cave. If they figure out that we're stranded and have the team for it, we might be rescued." A nervous glance towards Katsuki before Izuku adds a nervous "maybe" for extra measure.

"Smart," Katsuki says, despite being aware that the sticks could easily blow away or be covered by snow. And the fact that the entire country is in disarray because of the earthquakes and they very well might not be worth an entire rescue team.

So, again. They're screwed.

Izuku smiles at the compliment. It's subdued like he's only allowing the compliment to affect him to a certain degree.

The flame sizzles, hot ribbons of light that flick away spits of sparks like a tongue. One of them lands in the space between Katsuki's fingers, fading until it disappears

"Why are you so far away from me?" It comes out without any thought, and he oddly doesn't resist the slip of the tongue.

Izuku's caught off guard by the question like he didn't hear correctly. "What?"

Katsuki swallows. "I'm asking you why you're so far away. From me."

"You…you need rest, Kacchan. I'm in good condition to be on the lookout. And it's not all that cold with the fire going, so you don't need to worry—"

"You're still mad at me?"

"What? No, Kacchan," Izuku says, face softened. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then come here," Katsuki insists.

Izuku purses his lips, seemingly considering his options. Whatever internal debate he has, the decision to please Katsuki has clearly emerged victorious when he gets up to sit near the foot of Katsuki's sleeping bag. A healthy distance away from him.

Closer to the fire, Izuku's freckles almost blend into his skin. It's hypnotizing to watch how the flame renders on Izuku's face, accentuating his features.

Katsuki pulls the zipper of the sleeping bag down and opens the top flap open. "Here," he says.

Izuku looks appalled, eyes darting around like he's making sure no imaginary ghosts are witnessing this. "I'm not–Kacchan, I really don't think—"

"Get in," Katsuki grunts, and in any normal situation he'd veneer his chagrin with filler threats, but there's a deep-bone exhaustion that lets his tongue go loose. "I want you to get in, so get in."

Izuku avoids eye contact while he cautiously settles into the sleeping bag, gingerly sitting down. Katsuki swears that he can hear Izuku's trembling breath as he maneuvers himself into laying down on his back.

Like this, Katsuki's pelvis is pressed against the side of Izuku's hips and their legs brush against one another. He's close enough to intimately see the cords in Izuku's neck, where the muscle bulges and gives away Izuku's obvious tension.

"You scared of me, or something?" Katsuki mumbles, watching the way the breath in his words moves the tiny hairs on the column of Izuku's neck.

He remains still, eyes focused on the looming ceiling of the angle. "I'm not scared of you, Kacchan."

"You're not mad at me, you're not scared of me, what the hell are you then?"

"I'm—" Izuku starts before cutting out of nowhere. He swallows like something is obstructing him from lacing the proper words together. "Y-You don't even get it."

"Look at me and I might."

"Don't wanna," Izuku whispers, and it barely conceals the tremble in his voice, even when he turns his head to the other side so Katsuki can't see his face.

Katsuki grabs Izuku by the jaw firmly. It's strange how Izuku is so limp, so compliant when Katsuki pulls those freckles cheeks back towards him with hardly any resistance and—

Izuku's crying.

Fat, wet blobs of tears dribble down his temple and the ridge of his nose. His lip quivers uncontrollably like he's trying to contain something in his chest. It doesn't work at all, considering his chest stutters with every sharp inhale.

He shuffles his cheek into the padded bottom of the sleeping bag, bangs falling over his wet, avoidant eyes.

"Why are you…" Katsuki starts but he doesn't know how to face this.

"You don't get it," Izuku repeats, voice wobbling through his gritted teeth. "You–you just–how can you act like this is all—"

Izuku has to swallow again before he speaks, Katsuki watching, entranced. "I-I had to give you CPR, you idiot, I had to pull you out of that–out of that river, I thought you were dead and I just—" he shakily heaves, pressing his palms to his eyes.

Katsuki hasn't seen Izuku break down like this in a long, long time, because going pro toughens you up and it makes you all the more bitter for it. He should feel gratified seeing Izuku break in the way he wanted him to break, but he wasn't so prepared for the throbbing pang of panic in his own chest.

Katsuki grabs Izuku's wrists and pulls them away from his face, and instead brings them to Katsuki's own chest, right above his heart.

"I'm here right now, ain't I?" Katsuki says. "You saved me, hero," he says, traitorously soft.

Izuku blinks away the moisture clinging to his eyes, hand twitching in Katsuki's grip before pressing closer to feel the pulse of his heart.

Did they somehow move closer together? They did. They must have. It occurs to Katsuki that he'd been slowly bending towards Izuku to attain this proximity, faces almost touching, a thin ray of moonlight between them. Katsuki's never been this close enough to see the individual rings of colour in Izuku's eyes.

Katsuki moves that hand from his chest and slides it all the way down to his abdomen, to the rough ridges of his star-shaped, puckered scar. Izuku watches, eyes blow wide and a hitch caught in his chest. For just a second, Katsuki's eyes flicker to Izuku's pouted lips, and they wait for him like a question.

He swallows. This was a bad idea. He should not have invited Deku in so graciously, what the hell.

That blankness in his mind—it must be the reason why he leans forward even more, why he tilts his head to the side just the slightest bit. They're close enough that their lips almost graze, can feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath his nose.

This pause isn't him reconsidering what he's about to do. He'd already made up his mind the second Izuku cried for him. This pause is him meeting Izuku halfway. Waiting for him to fill the gap, if he wants to, because Katsuki has a feeling this is never going to happen again and that it might even ruin the rest of his life, for however long that is.

And Izuku does more than just not stop him when their lips tentatively meet, he kisses back.

Izuku slides his hand to the curve of Katsuki's waist and pulls him closer as they kiss, eagerly moving his impossibly soft lips against Katsuki's like he's drawing something out of him, consumed with hunger. Another hand slides into the crook of Katsuki's neck and to his hair.

"Kacchan," Izuku gasps into Katsuki's mouth, "Katsuki."

Katsuki shivers at the sound of his full name, each syllable hitting his nerves like the echo of a drum cymbal. He gasps when Izuku pulls his weight up to shadow Katsuki, locking his hips in between those thick thighs. Izuku bends over him to kiss him even deeper as Katsuki follows his frenzied, wet kisses with difficulty, each gasp for air stolen by Izuku again and again and shit—Katsuki isn't even sure if he's kissing back or if he's just panting with his mouth open because Izuku is so damn—

"W-Wait," Katsuki stammers, breaking away from the kiss so he can actually breathe in the face of Izuku's shocking enthusiasm but Izuku eagerly takes it as a moment to start kissing down the side of his neck, trailing down from his ears to his collarbone.

Finally, with as much strength as he can possibly muster, Katsuki shoves his knee up into Izuku's groin, hard.

Izuku instantly rolls over beside Katsuki like a struck bowling pin. " —Ow, ow, ow, ow–Kacchan, why–" Izuku whines, cupping his crotch with his face pinched like an ugly pug.

"Because you're a goddamn mutt, you motherfucker!" Katsuki wipes the spit slobbered all over his mouth with the back of his hand and sits up, out of breath. "Let a man breathe, would you?!"

Izuku groans with pain, squinting an eye open to look at Katsuki. The pupils of his eyes are fully blown out. "A-Ah, sorry, Kacchan, I'm just–you're just so–" Izuku cuts off like he just registered what he's looking at.

Katsuki's naked, but he somehow feels even more naked than he actually is when Izuku looks at him like that, like he's looking at him for the first time ever. He can't recover from the shock of feeling Izuku's greedy reciprocation.

Even more shocking is what Izuku is cupping in his hands, hard as a rod.

Katsuki's breath stutters.

This is real. This isn't some weird fever-induced hallucination.

Are they going to have sex?

Sex.

Does Deku want sex?

"Are we going to have sex," Katsuki says as much, monotone and blank-faced.

Izuku turns red, eyes darting to the walls of the cave. "Um–I thought–is that what you want?!"

Katsuki shoves at Izuku's chest. "Fuck do you mean, is that what I want?! You were just mounting me like a horny dog five seconds ago—"

Izuku topples onto his back but not without dragging Katsuki down too by the arm. "Because you kissed me first!"

Katsuki huffs, speechless. He can't even respond, not when he has the perfect image of Izuku below him, hands braced on his warm pectorals. They're silent for a moment, and somehow facing Izuku head-on like this feels more intimate than the man actually slobbering all over his face.

"What are you so afraid of, Kacchan?" Izuku softly asks. His eyelashes span beautifully over his eyes, like inky strokes made by a calligrapher.

"We're stuck in a cave with freezing temperatures outside and no help. What the hell would I be afraid of now, idiot," Katsuki responds with the same low timber.

"You are. There's something," Izuku says, cocking his head. "Is it your first time?"

Katsuki wants to pull back and be offended but he remains straddling Izuku. "No."

Izuku lifts an eyebrow. "Even with a man?"

"No," Katsuki lowers his eyelids.

Something dark stirs in Izuku's eyes, gears running through his mind, no doubt. Katsuki enjoys watching this.

"Then is it so different if it's with me?"

"Is it so different to you when it's with me?" Katsuki refutes just as easily.

"Yes," Izuku replies quickly like he's even offended that Katsuki would ask.

“Why?”

Izuku guffaws, looking away. "You can't flip the conversation on me so easily."

"Exactly," Katsuki scoffs. "It's not like you want to say it either."

Katsuki is about to get off of Izuku just before he catches the way that something has clicked inside of Izuku's mind, the final puzzle piece that pries Katsuki's vulnerabilities open like a raw wound.

"Is that it then? You want me to admit that I love you?"

Katsuki freezes. Something like shame weighs on his shoulders, making him drop his chin to his chest and look away.

"I love you, Kacchan," Izuku says, eyes pleading, inching his hand towards Katsuki's. He says it like he's not scared of it; like it's not the most frightening words to breathe life into. "I love you," he says again. "Do you love me?"

Izuku's really got nothing to lose if he's saying this, and Katsuki takes note of how this is the most earnest Izuku has ever been with him in years.

The wind howls even louder, bringing in a gust of snowflakes through the cave opening, only to melt by the warm greeting of the fire pit. Nothing comes close to Izuku's warm hands, intertwined with Katsuki's.

Katsuki swallows around the barbed wire in his throat. He looks down at Izuku's bare chest, trailing a hand down his navel. The scars and nicks and faded wounds read like braille beneath the pads of his fingers. In a way, it's a language of its own.

The last time Katsuki kept track of Izuku's scars was back in U.A, just after the war. Now, there are too many to count and too little opportunity to see them. Whether Izuku gets them from taking a plunge from an opponent or whether he merely nicks himself on a cabinet door, it hardly matters when he treats them the same.

Further down Izuku's stomach is the hem of his boxers. Plaid and ridiculous, but nerdishly fitting. What lies beyond this point is a line that Katsuki's already overstepped. There's no going back. If they make it out of this alive, would they still part ways after a completed mission as they always do?

Live parallel to each other in the same city. Katsuki, back in his sky-high condo where the weight of the world below can't reach him, and Izuku back in his apartment—or, well. He'll have to get a new one now since his place got literally demolished in the earthquake.

Katsuki flickers his eyes back to Izuku's and finds a curious, awed look. There's no expectation there, for a response from Katsuki or for anything at all, really. Deku never expects anything from him, and it leaves him with both a silent gratitude and an aching burden, often at the same time. Being with Deku is like that, Katsuki has learned. There is no this-or-that, it's always a contradicting flurry of—

Do you even care enough anymore to keep your eyes on me now? And—Don't look at me. Or—You disgust me. And— I need you. And—I want to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze some fucking sense in you. And–Won't you look my way? Keep your eyes on me.

Keep your eyes on me.

Keep your—

Izuku has his eyes on Katsuki, now more than ever. This is all that occupies Katsuki's mind.

With a trembling hand, Katsuki pulls Izuku's boxers down in one swoop and eases it down his thighs just as Izuku begins stammering, frantically sitting up on his elbows to gawk down at Katsuki who stares right between his legs.

"Kacchan—you don't—ah—"

Katsuki takes Izuku's dick in his hand, surprisingly thick and weighing heavy on his coarse palm. He flushes. He feels betrayed for some reason. It's already flushed feverishly, has been since the beginning of this entire ordeal but to see it in its full glory like this sends a jolt of thrill down Katsuki's spine. This is the same snobby, infuriating, scrawny kid Katsuki grew up with, and here he is all bare and aching for his Kacchan.

Izuku's abdomen clenches when Katsuki pulls his foreskin down with a thumb, digging it into the head and watching with morbid curiosity as Izuku's head falls back, Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows. "Kacchan," Izuku's voice quivers.

'Mm," Katsuki absentmindedly acknowledges, dragging his thumb up to the slit where a bead of precum glistens and swiping over the head to smear it. Katsuki can feel the flesh throb with want, and there is a primate instinct in him to control everything and anything he offers to give Izuku in micro-doses, until Izuku caves into that selfish, ugly, brutish part he buries deep within himself and takes exactly what he wants from Katsuki. That line—Katsuki wants to cross it so bad that he feels the thrum of desire underneath his skin.

All it takes is a split-second decision to trail down Izuku's body and take him into his mouth. Izuku jolts like he's been electrocuted—choking on a mouthful of oxygen, unconsciously raising his hips up and accidentally letting the warm slide of Katsuki's mouth envelop more of his length.

The head of Izuku's cock drags against the roof of his mouth and Katsuki relaxes his throat in an attempt to take it down with ease. He covers his teeth with his lips and pushes his head down farther, letting the salty, subtle musk of Izuku drag along his flattened tongue.

Pleasure licks up Katsuki's spine as he pushes himself farther down that thick weight in his throat. Somehow, the pressure dulls out every other sense in his body, like cotton pressing into his eardrums and scratching at an itch that's persisted for years.

Two inches away from the base is all that Katsuki is capable of, eyes welling at the intrusion as it hits the back of his throat, gagging. He looks up at Izuku and suddenly feels his face flare up with heat.

Izuku is half sitting up, leaning his weight on his elbows and looking at Katsuki like he's committing this sight to memory. Brows cinched and eyes glazed with a hopeless desire so intense that Katsuki feels its physicality.

Katsuki's got him exactly where he wants him.

He digs his thumbs into Izuku's hips as he pulls back up, taking his sweet time as he strokes the underside with his tongue. It earns a warbled gasp from the man trembling underneath Katsuki, abs clenched with restraint.

This is the man who broke into the top twenty-five heroes in all of Japan within six months of going pro, unarguably one of the most powerful men in the world. His only job left is to prove it.

Katsuki licks up the sides of Izuku's cock, lavishing it with sloppy kisses that pull the sweetest whine he's ever heard. He uses his other hand to grope Izuku's balls, massaging them gently in his palms.

Izuku's fingers claw out to scrape at the floor of the cave, fingernails dragging against it. His head falls back, throat bobbing as he swallows, neck muscles bulging with tension as he pants like he's the one who nearly drowned.

Katsuki stops his affectionate fondling of Izuku's dick and leans his cheek into the wet mess. "Look at me," he says, voice hoarse.

"I can't," Izuku says almost immediately, the edge of devastation to his words making his voice sound guttural. "I'll cum."

Katsuki's nose flares, expression souring.

He reaches out to interlace his fingers with Izuku's, bringing his hand to the back of Katsuki's head. Katsuki can feel Izuku hesitate just before he finally settles his grip and combs his fingers through Katsuki's hair.

He promptly swallows Izuku back down, this time taking him all the way down to the hilt by easing up his throat as much as he can. It comes easier this time, despite the hot tracks of tears running down his cheeks as he screws his face up in concentration in an attempt to not gag, spit collecting at the corner of his mouth and drooling down the sides of Izuku's shaft.

On the other hand, Izuku sounds like he's about to ascend to heaven, releasing an incredibly wrecked moan just as Katsuki's nose hits Izuku's pelvis. For a brief second, his grip tightens in Katsuki's hair for what seems like an accident because he lets go almost immediately.

Katsuki reaches one hand up to reaffirm Izuku's. He looks down at him, dazed and blissed out as he tightens his grip on Katsuki's hair.

Katsuki proceeds to bob his head, working his tongue along the underside of Izuku's dick, flattening it on his stroke up and dipping it into his slit whenever he pauses. He falls into sync with the movement, preening at each sound that he pulls out of Izuku and letting it pool in his lower stomach like warm honey.

Izuku's grip doesn't push or pull, it gently follows Katsuki's rhythm like a quiet reminder of his unwavering attention. Unexpectedly, he brushes Katsuki's bangs out of his face, meeting his eyes with his face cinched with pleasure.

"E-Enough, enough, Kacchan, wait, I don't—I don't wanna yet—" Izuku pleads, gently prying Katsuki off of his cock. Katsuki complies, spit dribbling down his chin as he comes up, glaring.

Izuku quivers, flushed to the chest and eyeing Katsuki's swollen, sullied lips. "I want to make you feel good, too."

Katsuki slowly sits up to lean back on his heels, cheeks suffused with an incriminating pink.

He thought this would feel like humiliation, wanted the experience to feel degrading, having his childhood friend watch him debase himself like this. But—

This doesn't feel like humiliation at all. Izuku looks at him like he's found the perfect person to die with.

Before he knows it, Izuku gently pulls Katsuki into his lap. He kisses him, swapping the bitter taste of cum with spit. There's no protective layer of fabric to separate their flushed skin. Izuku's wet and still-hard dick rests on Katsuki's left thigh.

"Thank you," Izuku husks, sliding his arms down the sides of Katsuki's waist and torso, scarred hands grazing the muscular ridges of his ribs. He noses at Katsuki's throat, peppering it with sloppy kisses. "You're too good to me—you're always too good to me."

Not always, Katsuki thinks.

"You wouldn't be able to tell what's good for you if it slapped you in the face," Katsuki curtly responds, pretending like hearing Izuku's voice an inch away from his ear isn't making him shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.

"I'm sure you won't have the same problem," Izuku murmurs. "If you let me show you how good I can make you feel." He talks like he wasn't just writhing and moaning because of Katsuki just moments before.

Izuku takes Katsuki's dick into his hand, palming the shaft and thumbing at the base of the wet head. Katsuki hisses, thighs and glutes clenched.

Izuku looks down at Katsuki's cock with an awed look on his face, mouth slightly agape. He exhales shakily, looking utterly bewildered as if he's never seen another man's dick in his life. Katsuki feels himself fall apart as Izuku strokes up and down, grip gentle and intimate and almost too slow like he's mapping out every wrinkle and fold and flushed skin to remember for later.

Katsuki bites his lips hard, mind blurring as his breaths go uncontrollably shallow and stuttering to the rhythm of Izuku's strokes. Precum glides up and down with Izuku's hand, more beading up at the tip as heat coils up all throughout his body.

He wraps his arms around Izuku's neck and leans into it, giving in to the brainless pleasure. He sinks his teeth into the meaty junction between Izuku's clavicle and neck, if only to stop himself from whimpering like a total bitch at a mere hand job.

"How far do you want to take this, Kacchan?" Izuku asks. "I'll do anything for you—anything, you're so beautiful, so patient letting me do this to you on my lap, swallowing me down so perfectly, I love you, I love you so—"

Katskuki bites down even harder into Izuku's shoulder, causing Izuku to yelp, grip on Katski's cock faltering and giving just enough time for Katsuki to collect his thoughts.

"Since when have I ever wanted to half-ass anything, idiot," Katsuki pants.

"Yeah?" Izuku's voice, previously so nervous and vulnerable, sounds like sex and grit now. The transformation is enough for Katsuki to lean in closer as if he could physically nestle inside Izuku's ribs just to hear him that much better.

Katsuki inches closer up Izuku's lap, until his cock slots perfectly between the clefts of Katsuki's ass. This is the best damn answer Izuku's going to get out of him.

Izuku exhales a sweet sigh, gripping Katsuki's waist and gently grinding him down on his cock. Katsuki flushes a deep, deep red, reluctant to dissect how boneless he becomes. He thought he was prepared to fuck Izuku's brains out with his hard-earned blowjob skills, taunt the idiot with his indifference and steady control until the last minute to let Izuku do whatever the fuck he wants like a starved dog scarfing down scraps of food but—

He should have known from the beginning that it wasn't going to be that easy.

Izuku's body crackles with energy all of a sudden, the sleek whisper of Black Whip being activated. A slithering strand whips out towards the corner of the cave where Izuku had carefully laid out his backpack and clothes. It digs into the backpack before bringing back something small and metallic.

The black strand lays it out on Izuku's palm. It's an unlabelled, round tin container.

Katsuki looks down at Izuku, arched eyebrows.

Izuku's eyes flicker up to Katsuki's for a brief second before he looks away, embarrassed. "It's uh, it's a type of non-scented oil."

"Don't tell me you planned on fucking before we even got deployed."

"N-No! No, Kacchan, my hands are just—my hand joints don't work well in the cold…it's anti-inflammatory so I brought it to help with the stiffness…"

"'This look the time to warm your hands up?" Katsuki snickers, subtly grinding his hips down on to Izuku's length.

Izuku's breath hitches. "Don't be obtuse, Kacchan… there are other ways to do that." He noses at the crease of Katsuki's elbow, peering up at him innocently.

Katsuki huffs indignantly. "Get on with it, then."

Izuku opens the tin and dips two fingers into the clear oil, some dripping onto Katsuki's thigh as Izuku rubs the thick liquid between his fingers to warm it up. With another heated glance up, Izuku dives his hand between their stomachs and pries two fingers in the tight space between his cock and Katsuki's puckered hole.

Katsuki tenses up immediately when Izuku circles the area, fingers slick and warm and the very opposite of shy. Izuku's confidence only confirms what's been on Katsuki's mind for a while now, which is that this is definitely not the first time Izuku's been with a man.

It doesn't make Katsuki insecure, but it settles in his heart nonetheless. They've lived separate lives from one another after graduation, so this is inevitable.

Izuku pauses considerately, feeling Katsuki's tension. "Relax, Kacchan. It's just me," he says, his free hand stroking the insides of Katsuki's thighs.

Katsuki sneers and rolls his eyes. Exactly, genius.

Izuku teases by dipping a finger past the rim by only an inch, then pulling away, then doing it again and again until Katsuki's mind clouds with the thought of what's coming next and all he can do is grip onto Izuku, nails digging into skin.

Izuku finally sinks a wet finger into the heat, pushing in all the way until his knuckle hits the rim. Katsuki can hear Izuku's breath hitch at the feeling of that warm, tight walls gripping his finger like a vice. It still feels like an odd intrusion, but the discomfort barely slices through the haze of Katsuki's arousal. He feels himself clench around the finger stroking his walls, spreading the oil with gentle strokes. Katsuki feels the tap of the second finger on his rim as a warning before Izuku adds in that one too.

Katsuki's breath goes laboured with every stroke, all coherent thought dissipating when Izuku rubs hard and purposefully at his prostate, curled fingers and an even more curved smile. He looks up from his ministrations to see Katsuki's face, eyes shut and mouth hanging open as Izuku scissors his fingers in and out, hitting that jackpot every other stroke.

"You're doing amazing, you feel so hot around my fingers, Kacchan," Izuku says. Pride and—something greedy paints his features when he looks up at Katsuki, struck in a daze.

A third slips in, and Katsuki, quickly latches his teeth into Izuku's trapezius to muffle the moan that almost leaves his mouth. Izuku leaves no time for him to collect his thoughts or respond or give a snarky response, reducing him into a trembling mess with the silent promise of putting it all back together in the end.

"I think you're ready, are you—are you sure you don't want to back out? I'm just asking because—"

"Don't make me return the bloody nose, shitty Deku," Katsuki gasps out. His cock throbs so hard that he doesn't think he can stand another second of granting his patience to the idiot who thinks that he'll doubt anything this far into the game.

"Okay," Izuku's voice trembles, suddenly wrecked with emotion. It makes Katsuki falter for a moment, looking down to see Izuku's watery eyes.

He's shaking so much.

Katsuki feels a warm flutter in his chest at the sight. You big baby, he thinks.

Izuku dips his finger back in the tin next to him, scooping out another gallop of oil and slathering it on his cock. Katsuki gets in a deep inhale to prepare just before Izuku aims his length at Katsuki's hole.

Katsuki takes it as his cue to sink down on it, dropping his weight inch by inch until his pelvis hits Izuku's. He screws his eyes shut, fighting to control his breathing.

"There you go, there, ah," Izuku lets out a choked whimper, his cock twitching inside of Katsuki. "You feel so good around me, Kacchan."

Having Izuku inside of him feels insane. Katsuki feels like he can't even take a full breath in because of how split open he feels. He pants, letting his chin drop to his chest and clutching onto Izuku's back like it's a lifeline. Izuku returns the same fervour, both hands gripped on either side of Katsuki's hips as if to pull him closer; as if it was even possible to close the distance any more than this.

Resisting the urge to go limp and lazy, Katsuki digs his heels into the floor and grinds up and down on the other, thighs flexed.

It would be embarrassing, putting this much effort into taking cock like he's done it a thousand times before if it wasn't for Izuku moaning like a bitch at every slap of their hips, face blotchy and chest shaking at the exertion of every breath.

"Kacchan, god, you're so beautiful, do you know how many times I've—" Izuku cuts himself off with a strangled cry — "thought of you like this on my lap before?"

Katsuki makes a soft, stifled noise. White-hot pleasure burns everywhere throughout him, turning his brain into lazy goo that seeps out of his ears every time Izuku's thick fucking cock hits that one spot inside of him on every roll down.

And among that all, he feels that selfish coil of satisfaction of yes, Izuku gets off to this, has gotten off to him before, has had Katsuki as the vision of his wet dreams for who knows how long. It makes Katsuki tug Izuku's hair, possessive and greedy and drunk in shitty Deku's attention.

"Fuck," he whispers, shivering and tense. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Izuku whines, gripping Katsuki's hip so tightly that he can feel it searing bruises into his skin. He begins to roll his hips up too, hips pumping up into Katsuki eagerly.

It adds to the noise of their body meeting, louder than their combined breaths and the punched-out gasp Izuku lets out every time Katsuki sinks down.

"Stop holding yourself back, Kacchan," Izuku groans, "I want to hear you. P–Please let me hear you," voice husky. Katsuki shudders in response.

Earn it, you bastard, earn it.

Izuku kisses down Katsuki's neck, biting and sucking wherever he can and canting his head to take Katsuki's nipple into his mouth. "I love you, Kacchan, I love you, I love you," Izuku utters out rawly, lips on autopilot. "You're mine and—ah—I'm–I'm yours and I want to be with you forever, you're everything, everything I've ever dreamed of."

Katsuki can't help it anymore, his legs go limp and he slumps into Izuku, cock trapped between their stomachs. "Deku," he slurs, helpless and in love and stupidly horny.

Izuku's breath hitches audibly, right next to Katsuki's ears and the other man must like what he hears because he props an arm on the floor so he can support both of their weights and set a maddeningly steady but deep rhythm.

"Say it again," Izuku gasps out, wrapping an arm tight around Katsuki's back and trailing down his spine.

"Deku," he moans, low and throaty like it's being pulled straight out of his chest.

Izuku's eyelashes flutter beautifully, wet and long and his glassy eyes look up through those dark wisps just to see Katsuki fall apart for him. He moves in for a kiss, smashing their lips together and turning it into a breathy, needy mix of teeth and tongue.

Izuku pushes forward into the kiss with all of his weight until Katsuki's world tilts backwards and he plops onto his back on the sleeping bag, legs split open and Izuku to fill in the space between them, caging Katsuki in like he did when they first kissed.

Izuku looks kind of crazed, bangs matted to his forehead with sweat as he eyes Katsuki up and down like he's never gotten the chance to look this close before, his Kacchan splayed out for him like a meal.

Katsuki's lips quirk up. Their eyes meet, and Katsuki's able to come back to himself for a moment, enough to feel the impulse to egg Izuku on, call him out on his blatant eye-fucking and call him other names and criticize the lack of actual fucking going on but Izuku beats him to the punch when his eyes flash, recognizing Katsuki's thoughts just by watching his face.

A strained snicker, "Heh, did you already cum, you—" Katsuki begins but Izuku suddenly scoops him up and over his lap properly, lining them up together to sink his cock into Katsuki's wet heat, knocking the breath clean out of him.

"Don't start with me, please," Izuku groans, slowly and firmly pushing his dick back out and in, beginning a maddening rhythm with a purposeful intent that wasn't there before. "Just take it, you take me so well, Kacchan, keep being good for me, won't you?"

"You smug prick," Katsuki chokes out, voice thick with lust. "Always, fuck, talking too much—"

Izuku then tilts Katsuki's pelvis the slightest bit and hikes his knees over his shoulders so he's fucking directly into Katsuki's prostate and it—fuck—Katsuki can't hold onto a single thought, it all slips like sand through his fingers while he scrambles on for dear life, hands clutched into the fabric of the sleeping bag.

"Fuck," Katsuki rasps, furious. Izuku has made his body pliant and honest in every way that betrays its own user, so forgive him for being so loud when he's getting plowed this good.

"Like that, just like that, Kacchan," Izuku's voice is high and airy and strained. "You sound so pretty, Kacchan, god."

This is what Izuku sounds and looks like when he's lost in making love and Katsuki never thought he'd be on the other end of it but he is now, 'cuz he deserves it and Deku found Katsuki worthy of it 'cuz he's the best and it's all he's ever wanted.

When Izuku punched Katsuki in the face and pinned him into the snow, Katsuki was only thinking of what it would be like for the other man to have his way with him, because everything that's Katsuki's is Izuku's and everything that's Izuku's wasn't quite Katsuki's until now.

Katsuki's selfish now, taking what's rightfully his. His thoughts are eclipsed with the mindless mantra of yes, yes, yes when Izuku folds himself over Katsuki, sealing every space between them, face in Katsuki's neck and fucking him in earnest.

"Deku, Deku—" Katsuki digs his heels into Izuku's back, rolling his hips into Izuku's cock with barely mustered strength. Each deep, hurrying stroke pulls out noise from Katsuki, a stream of raspy ah-ah-ahs over the sound of their hips slapping together, head lolling back as Izuku picks up the pace and intensity of his thrusts.

Izuku's hand reaches out to turn over Katsuki's, the one clenched into the sheets, just to press their palms together and interlock their sweaty fingers together. Amid Katsuki shuddering with pleasure, he's able to squeeze back.

Izuku lifts his head up from Katsuki's shoulder to look at him, eyes watery and face pinched. "I'm–I'm going to cum," he stutters, a shuddering sigh into Katsuki's shoulder "Can I — in you?"

"Please," Katsuki whines, gut clenched as he's nearing the edge too, at the tip of a free fall. It's the only time Izuku's ever going to hear that special word from him, and Izuku makes sure it counts when he reaches down to pump Katsuki's dick, teasing the foreskin with frantic delirium, his own rhythm a mess of stuttering desperate strokes.

Katsuki's whole body glows bright with shivering gasps and pulsation. Izuku bites into his shoulder, and Katsuki cums with a drawn-out sob, the other man working him through his orgasm with a helping hand.

White pulses in his vision and warmth shudders through his guts in seemingly endless waves.

"Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan, hnfh," Izuku cries, lips pressed on Katsuki's nape. His clumsy, deep thrusts satiate Katsuki through his aftershocks, and then Izuku follows him soon right after with a high keen in his throat as he cums too, collapsing onto him.

Katsuki quivers when he feels Izuku empty himself into the confines of his ass, warm and viscid.

They both breathe heavily through the aftermath of their orgasm, high on the bliss and wrapped up in each other with heaving chests. Static runs through Katsuki's body, all the way to his toes. His ears are pounding, his throat is raw, and he can vaguely feel the press of Izuku's kiss on his neck.

"You fuck all your groupies like that?" He laughs, strained because Izuku is over 100 kilograms of pure muscle.

"My groupies…what…" Izuku mutters, rolling over onto his back next to Katsuki with a shaky sigh and pulling out of Katsuki. There's a moment of silence before Izuku speaks again like he was only half listening before. "No. Just with you," he says, quietly.

Katsuki doesn't say anything, staring at the ceiling of the cave, fingers twitching and barely recovering from his orgasm. Goosebumps rise on his skin from the loss of heat. He's reminded again of where he is, why he's here, and why he feels a pang of insecurity and neediness travel through his body and paint his face red with shame.

He's hyper-aware of Izuku's body next to his. He doesn't know where they go on from here or if there even is a way to move forward besides a dead end.

Izuku suddenly sits up, getting onto his feet. Katsuki eyes him warily as reaches for the end of the sleeping bag for his boxers.

He comes back to part Katsuki's knees open, and the touch makes Katsuki jerk a little bit as Izuku settles between his knees with the boxers in hand.

Izuku looks up with a heated flicker of his eyes. He was always easy to read growing up, and he still is, but only when he wants to be read. Right now, he looks at Katsuki sincerely and open-hearted, doe-eyed and parted lips.

Most importantly, he hasn't lost any of the affection from just moments earlier. Katsuki slackens a bit at the knowledge.

Izuku begins wiping the intermingled cum on Katsuki's stomach with the damp fabric. It's shockingly cold. He cleans Katsuki's thighs with gentle strokes, and then the wetness between his cheeks. Katsuki bites his lips and turns his head to the side so he's looking at the fire.

He's not really looking though, gaze unfocused and eyes stinging. He feels like Izuku unscrewed something inside of him, and he can't bear to face the consequences of it.

"Kacchan," Izuku says, oh so sweetly.

Izuku might be an open book by choice, but Katsuki certainly isn't.

Izuku drapes himself over Katsuki, both hands sliding underneath his lower back. The touch feels like cool water over a burn, and even more so when Izuku lifts Katsuki up just the slightest bit so he can turn and roll both of them over, Izuku on his back and Katsuki sprawled on top of him.

Their legs intertwine, and Katsuki's face is in Izuku's neck. Izuku still cradles him tightly, like Katsuki might fall apart any second now.

"I love you," Izuku murmurs into his ear, and Katsuki's heart stutters despite hearing this for the millionth time. "I want to be here with you like this forever—is that crazy?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says, fluttering his eyes shut. "You'd look awful in a beard."

Izuku bursts into a laugh, his chest jostling beneath Katsuki.

Katsuki snickers. He feels warm all over.

 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

 

A full sixteen hours pass before the helicopter arrives.

The worst of the storm had passed seven hours earlier, which was only endurable by constantly heading out in full gear to gather more dry materials for the fire (which ended up including Izuku's cum-crusted boxers), finishing the last of their canned foods, and cuddling up to the fire, draped with blankets and sharing body heat.

They took turns taking brief naps, most of which went to Katsuki due to the immense amount of energy he lost after recovering from hypothermia. Though Katsuki liked to pin it on Izuku for fucking it all out of him, which led to an argument where Izuku subtly threatened to knock Katsuki out if it meant he'd get rest. Katsuki had begrudgingly accepted defeat, and hid under the covers of the sleeping bag to wrap himself around Izuku's torso like a koala, leeching off body heat.

The only reason why the helicopter even found them was because Izuku had decided to float up to the sky at one point with his quirk, unsteadily hovering in the wind to look for anyone in the snowy landscape. A base from miles away had detected an unknown object in the air (probably thinking it was a fucking war weapon), and found them an hour later, able to read their shitty SOS message from above.

When it comes, they both squint at the entrance of the cave, the vicious blades of the helicopter sending in an icy flurry of snow and wind despite hovering over fifty feet above, careful to not set off another avalanche.

Two men come down in hoists, who buckle Katsuki and Izuku up in straps and buckles that go along their torsos and thighs.

And just like that, they're pulled up to safety.

 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

 

"You're sure you'll be fine? It's just—I don't want there to be any complications or anything, especially since you're heading back home so soon…!" Izuku stammers out, rushing to catch up to Katsuki's remarkably fast pace.

The airport isn't too busy, mostly filled with the people who were stranded while the earthquakes occurred. Children try to steal the trolley full of luggage from their parents, businessmen power walk with their leather handbags, and heels click on the floor.

The long, white stretch of the airport should feel endless, but Katsuki is well aware of how close the end nears. He can tell that Izuku wants to stretch out their time, wants them to slow down and slow dance right in the middle of the fucking airport or whatever corny shit he's thinking of, but Katsuki will do no such thing.

"I already got cleared, you big doofus," Katsuki says, rolling his eyes at Izuku's pretentious concerns.

They both stayed in their respective hospital rooms, getting checked for any potential health problems. Katsuki stayed a bit longer than Izuku, the doctors having to make sure that he didn't have any complications like water in his lungs or kidney and heart issues from being downed in an ice-cold river for too long. Luckily, the avalanche was short enough that he didn’t suffer any real injuries from it.

Izuku was a nervous wreck though, checking in with the staff every five minutes and wearing his nail beds down. You'd think Katsuki was dying or some shit.

Once they were both cleared, they checked in with their other team members of the mission and got the approval from their leaders to head back home after reporting the results of their rescue mission, and by that, he means the death of everyone in the mountain village.

Izuku wanted to stay behind. He was offered the chance to meet with the distant relatives of the man he tried to rescue two days from now who lived in the city, and of course, Izuku being Izuku, he couldn't possibly leave without saying his condolences.

Katsuki certainly can though. Izuku takes his rescues too personally, and Katsuki wants no part in this.

The man was bound to die and Katsuki knows that for certain. His death won't haunt Katsuki. But he doesn't think he can face the man's family knowing that if Izuku had not flown in to rescue him (for the millionth time), then they might have been able to rest a bit easier with the knowledge that two valiant heroes put their everything into saving him, plus ultra and all.

The failure is merely a reflection of Katsuki's impotence and selfish need to be right, how he bitterly walked away from Izuku, torn apart by the idea of abandonment rather than putting himself together and aiming for shelter with minimal losses. At one point, the mission was no longer about saving people no matter the odds.

And Izuku might be at fault for walking away first, but Katsuki knows that anger doesn't root itself in Izuku as it does for Katsuki. He was already headed back the moment Katsuki stalked off.

Before Katsuki knows it, the two are already at the airport security area. He can make out the waiting lounge far into the distance on the other side where people laze around on their phones or read books, past the security officers screening people and their belongings.

This is as far as Izuku is allowed to go.

Katsuki grips onto the straps of his backpack, turning around to face Izuku who nearly bumps into him.

Izuku wears a fitted yellow shirt and blue jean shorts like he's never felt cold in his life. The shirt is lopsided to the side a bit around the neck, enough to show how Katsuki used him like a chew toy almost three nights ago.

The sight leaves him satisfied. Katsuki kind of wants to shove him into the nearest bathroom just to know what it feels like to fuck him outside of a life-or-death-stuck-in-mountain-cave context but Katsuki figures he'll find out soon enough.

Izuku's arms are folded, one arm picking at his lips. His face is strained in worry when he looks at Katsuki.

"What," Katsuki says, fondly exasperated with one eyebrow quirked up.

"I'm just…I-I guess I'm just scared of letting you leave my sight," Izuku admits, chin falling to his chest.

The last time Katsuki left Izuku's sight, he was dragged down a hill from an avalanche and dumped into a river, so Katsuki doesn't blame Izuku.

"I'll be fine," Katsuki says. "I'll be home waiting for you."

Izuku doesn't know how literal that line is.

Katsuki can see the jut of Izuku's throat wobble as he swallows, nodding shakily.

They stand in silence, looking at one another as if they're each waiting for the other to do something, say something equivalent to a goodbye.

Katsuki realizes that he doesn't quite know how to operate around an Izuku whose hands have roamed his whole body, who whispered sweet nothings into Katsuki's ears and promised him forever.

He just nods back, eyeing Izuku's face before walking away from Izuku like the coworkers they are, heart pulsing and fists clenched in his pockets.

He heads towards the screening area where ticketed passengers take off their belongings to place in a container, forcing himself not to look back as he waits in line, listening to some lady explain the procedure to the person in front of him. He stares at his own sneakers, mind racing a mile per second.

Before he knows it, the person in front of him is done, exiting the body scanner and grabbing their belongings—and now it's Katsuki's turn.

Suddenly, a random guy speedwalks past him, cutting Katsuki in line in a hurry to catch a flight. This is perfect. It gives just enough time for Katsuki to commit to the decision he's made.

Katsuki whips around and jogs towards Izuku, who's looking at him with wide eyes like he never dared to look away in the first place. Those green eyes grow wider and wider, up until Katsuki crashes into him, grabbing his freckled cheeks on both sides and kissing the daylights out of him.

Izuku wheezes, stumbling back before catching Katsuki in his arms. He's frozen for a second, before his body kicks into action and kisses Katsuki back, a delightful, giddy sound escaping his lips

Katsuki closes his eyes, dissolving into the kiss, soft and open and playful. He doesn't need to look because he already knows what Izuku looks like when he's kissing someone, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in a desperate ploy to keep himself together. Or maybe that's specifically reserved for Katsuki, who knows.

Katsuki nips Izuku's lower lip as he pulls back from the short kiss, grinning. Izuku looks dazed, with rosy cheeks and parted lips, looking at Katsuki in bewilderment.

"I love you too, you idiot," Katsuki rasps into Izuku's ears, all the while sneaking a cool piece of metal out of his pocket and sliding it into Izuku's.

He hears Izuku's breath hitch before Katsuki pulls away from the embrace, speed walking towards the security area again. He doesn't look back, not until his belongings come through on the other side and he's directed through the screening machines.

Izuku stands on the other side, looking at the item he pulled out of his pocket.

It's Katsuki's apartment keys.

Katsuki can visibly see the very moment that Izuku realizes what this means for him, eyes growing into saucers. He actually shrieks, dropping the keys and fumbling to catch it like it's a hot potato.

It catches the attention of every person passing by, but Izuku clearly does not care when he locks eyes with Katsuki and bolts into action, trying to maneuver through the people in front of him in an attempt to catch up to Katsuki, a stream of words caught in his throat.

The security officers stop him, barring him from passing to the other side. Izuku doesn't even notice them. He even tries to push through them with pure strength alone, yelling a frenzied "Kacchan! Kacchan, come back here!" while Katsuki struggles to contain his laughter.

He turns his back on Izuku and struts away, cackling while Izuku begs him to stay. It's music to his ears. His steps are light with the inflated ego from knowing that he gets to have the last word, and that's just how he likes it.

Take that, you loser.

Notes:

then katsuki gets locked outside of his condo because he forgot that he doesn't have a second key...

 

in case you were wondering this was inspired by that one ymir and christa scene in aot. i started writing this over a year ago and it took me forever to finish because its the first time ive ever written smut and it was very very challenging i have so much respect for smut writers now, especially the dkbk writers i was inspired by (aka roadtripwithlucifer, symbolofsimpery, mermaidmayo, etc, etc) it also ended up being WAY longer than I expected.

i've got some other wips in the works that i want to post, so look out for those too!! thank u for reading this and please comment if you liked it, ill be really happy ♡( ◡‿◡ )