Listen Closely

by bigcatsmallcat

Summary:

Katsuki regrets his life choices when he misunderstands an innocent question.

Notes:

• For blazingeyes.

this was supposed to be super filthy and include many of your nsfw likes but then i decided to be silly and also make katsuki suffer >:) i hope you enjoy!!

They're on a long call, hanging out mostly in silence, with the occasional comment or sound as they each do their own thing, when something unusual happens. Something very different from what Katsuki is used to.

"What are you wearing?" Shouto just casually asks.

Katsuki pauses. He knows what that question means. He briefly wonders what's gotten into Shouto, since neither of them have ever shown any interest in trying phone sex, but then remembers just how intense Shouto is about everything.

Shouto probably got hard, maybe from hearing Katsuki breathe or something just as weird, realized there's nothing stopping him from getting some even through a screen, and just went for it.

Katsuki’s never even considered this sort of thing a possibility, and maybe he’s always considered it some nerd shit, but he’ll try anything for Shouto. Once, twice, twenty times.

Quietly sliding his sweatpants off, regrettably letting them fall to the floor, Katsuki replies, “I’m in a t-shirt and boxers. The Uravity one.”

“Oh. No pants.”

“Yeah.” He pauses. That sounded way too neutral, but Shouto’s never particularly expressive, so he adds, “What about you?”

He imagines Shouto laid out on his big, fancy bed, the one they’re gonna keep when they move in together in a couple months. Comfortable mattress, strong headboard. He pictures Shouto’s long legs spread wide. Cock already in hand, surely, because he’s an impatient little shit. Probably wearing one of those expensive blouses he has at least ten identical pieces of, perfectly ironed and always unbuttoned. Hair all neat and pretty over the pillow, because it only gets messy if Katsuki makes a conscious effort to make it so.

Katsuki hears Shouto take a deep breath, and he suddenly understands.

He feels that twisting in his gut, only familiar because of Shouto, and lies back on his couch, He palms himself, eyes closed. Imagining.

“Well, I have pants on.”

“Mmm, only pants?”

Shouto takes some time to reply, so Katsuki readjusts his mental image.

Legs spread out, but not as wide now. Fly open, with Shouto’s hand stretching his boxers as he plays with his balls, probably. He loves doing that, loves when Katsuki does it to him. No shirt, because it’s always the first thing he removes. Katsuki imagines his back arching, his head thrown back as he in turn imagines Katsuki touching himself. Shouto’s pretty throat bobbing as he swallows, perfect teeth biting his lips, trying to keep quiet.

Katsuki’s hard now, head swimming too much to feel embarrassed about how little it took him to get there. Shouto just does things to him, and apparently not being in the same space as him just enhances that tenfold. Katsuki licks his hand, picturing Shouto doing it to him and staring into his eyes, shameless and intense as always, and wraps a hand around his cock.

“And a sweater. The Christmas one you hate, actually.”

Not ideal, but Katsuki has worked with weirder.

He imagines the sweater slipping off one shoulder, because Shouto doesn’t mind that since it doesn’t mess with his temperature. Katsuki pictures his hands sliding under the fabric, pulling it up, revealing his flushed skin. Goosebumps spreading all over, Katsuki chasing them with his mouth, feeling his muscles twitch under his lips.

Shouto groans, and Katsuki squeezes himself just a little tighter, moves his hand a little faster-

“Ugh, Katsuki, I did it again.”

Katsuki’s head swims.

Did he come already? How is this the second time? How did Katsuki miss it?

He strokes himself even quicker, never one to be left behind, thinking about sticky hands, the way he’d lick them clean if he were there-

“Fuck, Shouto, I’m-”

“I know, I know. It’s been so long since the last time, but I left the shopping list in my pocket again.”

“What,” Katsuki says, stupidly. Breathlessly. The words don’t register because he’s very, very close-

“I’m gonna do what you said, with the water.”

Katsuki’s eyes open in shock. He blinks. Lets go of his cock. Feels himself burn for a new, horrifying reason.

“The fuck are you doing?” he manages to say, his voice a pathetic croak.

Silence.

“I’m just folding laundry, why?”

“Hah?! What do you mean why- wait, what fucking laundry, I’ve got a mountain of your clothes here!”

“Mostly yours, actually. Funny how that works,” Shouto says, calm and unaffected.

Katsuki burns.

“Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? You sound angry.”

“’s the worst day of my life,” he mutters.

“Katsuki. What’s going on.”

“What’s going on?! You- fucking- I thought we were- I’ve got my fucking dick out! I’ve been-” he cuts himself off.

He can’t say it.

This is humiliating enough.

“Oh,” is all Shouto says. “That’s really hot.”

“Fuck you, this is all ‘cause you asked what I was wearing, and I thought-”

“I asked that because your favorite shirt is here, and I know you like lounging in it.”

“Why did you say ‘no pants’ then, you freak!”

“Because you only do that when you’re stressed.”

Katsuki’s fists press into the cushion. He leans his head on the backrest and stares at the ceiling, regretting his entire life.

“I’m gonna put your shirt on, I’ll send a picture, and we can-”

“No! Fuck off!”

Katsuki hangs up.

Predictably, Shouto calls him immediately after. Over and over, until Katsuki replies.