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They’re dangerously drunk, Izuku realizes about three shots too late. His body is warm and buzzing, and Katsuki is rosy-cheeked with a wonderful glitter in his ruby gaze. God how Izuku loves looking at him. His sharp jawline, his clear skin, the way the light catches in his hair. He’s perfect in the way only Kacchan can ever be. They’re side-by-side on Izuku’s couch when Izuku whips out his camera. Katsuki sets down his drink with a flat look.
“Oh come on,” he says. “Really?”
Izuku shakes with his giggling.
“Kacchan, just one more?”
“How many do you need?” Katsuki demands, and oh his outraged face is so cute. Izuku takes three pictures in quick succession. Katsuki sticks his tongue out and Izuku takes a picture of that too. “Wow.”
Izuku shrugs, smiling helplessly. He pets his camera like a well-loved pet.
“Gotta put this baby to use somehow.”
Katsuki scoffs, but his eyes betray his genuine amusement. God, just look at him: Izuku loves everything about him. His clear skin, the way his throat moves as it works down his whisky, the low husky quality of his voice as it deepens with his intoxication. Izuku takes another picture and a slow grin spreads across Katsuki’s face.
“You’re dumb,” Katsuki says, and Izuku’s heart skips a beat. He fiddles with the lens, zooming in on the way the backs of Katsuki’s knuckles rest against his soft-looking cheek. “Izuku.”
“Just a few more,” Izuku says quickly. He zooms out to catch the way Katsuki’s pecs swell under his shirt, straining against the fabric like they mean to escape. A sigh shudders out of him. “Wow.”
Katsuki snorts. “What?”
“Nothing,” Izuku says quickly. Fuck, he needs a new angle. Would above or below be better? How many pictures would Kacchan even let him take? Izuku has to think about this carefully, strategically. Katsuki’s fine blond brow arches at him through the lens.
“You’re mumbling again, nerd,” he warns in a low, sultry voice. He brings the whiskey glass back to his lips and Izuku takes a picture of that too.
“Sorry,” Izuku says. His smile is sheepish as he lowers the camera. “Kacchan is just so photogenic.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he must be in a good mood because he only mutters whatever and takes another swallow of whiskey. Izuku lights up with an idea.
“Here, take one with me,” he says, flipping the camera around and leaning back. Katsuki snorts.
“Izuku,” he scolds.
“C’mon!” Izuku urges. Ugh, they’re still not close enough. Izuku scoots over and leans in once again. He’s near enough to feel the heat of Katsuki’s chest against his back. “Get in the picture Kacchan.”
Katsuki sighs. But dutifully ducks into frame, chin hooking over Izuku’s shoulder and frowning deliberately. Izuku gives the camera his sunniest smile to compensate.
“Sayyyyy All Might!”
Katsuki laughs. Actually laughs. Snorting and nose wrinkling and everything. Izuku shoots him a glance, taking a picture of that moment too. They’re so close Izuku’s nose brushes the side of his face and their breaths mingle. Katsuki shoves him off with a shoulder bump.
“Seriously, stop!” he cries, eyes alive with amusement.
Izuku grins. He swivels around, half in Katsuki’s lap as he looms above him. He aims his camera again and Katsuki collapses against the couch, sighing up at him irritably.
“Really?” he demands. Click, click, click. He scowls, but somehow that is sexy too. “I didn’t agree to a photoshoot.”
Izuku makes a pitiful sound.
“I wish you would,” he admits. “Hagakure-san and Sato-kun did.”
“Don’t remind me,” Katsuki says, face contorting in disgust and Izuku giggles mischievously. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Kacchan was jealous. “I don’t need anymore randos thirstin’ after me.”
“Mmmm,” Izuku says, the roll of possessiveness in his chest agreeing heartily. He’s so fucking lucky he gets to see Katsuki laid out like this, half underneath him and lax with booze. “I won’t share with anyone.”
Katsuki’s eyes dilate slightly at that. A soft exhale escapes him like he’s surprised. He shakes his head.
“Nerd,” he scolds.
“Just a couple more,” Izuku says. He scoots up to straddle Katsuki’s hips for a better angle. And then, pushing his luck, he adds, “Tilt your head up for me?”
Miraculously, incredibly, Katsuki obeys. Oh. A shiver rushes through Izuku. The long column of his throat is exposed like this, his sharp jawline emphasized, just a taste of his clavicle getting into frame. Izuku takes the shot.
“Beautiful,” Izuku says.
“Izuku.”
“Just one more,” Izuku begs in a whisper. He’s drunk enough to be bold. One trembling hand lowers to press flat against the mounds of Katsuki’s pecs. Firmly, like he’s holding him there, Izuku lowers the camera just a touch to take the shot of that too.
“Izuku,” Katsuki rasps.
“Sorry,” he whispers, transfixed on where his hand rests on Kacchan. “Sorry I—”
Long, lithe fingers encircle Izuku’s wrist and cut him off. Katsuki’s wide, carmine eyes stare up at him, shiny with intoxication and earnestness. His pink lips are parted; his hold on Izuku’s wrist is hot. For a moment, it’s all Izuku can do to breathe, still perched on Katsuki’s lap.
Slowly, so slowly Izuku might have imagined it, Katsuki maneuvers him. Guiding Izuku’s hand until it cups the fatty flesh of his pec. Izuku gasps.
“Kac—“
“Take the shot,” Katsuki says, low and sultry.
Izuku’s trembling so hard he almost can’t. He can’t believe what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling. Katsuki’s chest heaves underneath him and Izuku can feel it. Katsuki’s heart is pounding under Izuku’s palm, the soft tissue of his pec moulds perfectly to his hand. Izuku wants to squeeze it, massage it like a proper tit, find his nipple and see if it’s sensitive. He can, can’t he? Isn’t this why Kacchan had guided him here?
“Kacchan,” Izuku says his name with reverence. His fingers spread, relishing the way they push divots into Kacchan’s plush pec. Katsuki arches for him, throwing his head back and sighing like he’s pleased. Encouraged, Izuku slides his hand back down, palming Katsuki and relishing the heavy weight of it. “Kacchan, oh my god.”
Katsuki’s breath stutters. When he looks up at Izuku, his eyes are glassy.
“Take the shot,” he says again and Izuku almost chokes. Yes, yes right of course. Izuku has to capture this, has to remember this forever. Click, click, click . He moves to give Katsuki’s other pec the same attention and ah fuck. There go his nipples, poking through his soft grey t-shirt. Click , click, click . Izuku squeezes hard and Katsuki’s groan is the most beautiful thing Izuku has ever heard.
“You like that, shitty nerd?” Katsuki grouses and the unintelligent sound that comes out of Izuku’s mouth would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so aroused. Katsuki’s hips roll underneath him gently. “C’mon. What else you like?”
Izuku moans. He grinds on Katsuki unthinkingly and Katsuki’s lashes flutter shut, head lolling back like he’s pleased.
“Just like that,” he whispers, still holding Izuku’s wrist in place. “C’mon, baby.”
Izuku takes so many pictures he loses count: their bulges rubbing against one another, the taut line of Katsuki’s abs as he shucks up his shirt, the way Katsuki’s arms flex as he rids himself of the shirt entirely, how Katsuki reaches to grab his hip so they can rock against one another more easily, the fierce look in Katsuki’s eye as he stares up at Izuku. They’re a little motion blurry with their gentle grinding, but Izuku thinks each shot is a masterpiece. Katsuki plays with his own nipples, moaning needily, and fuck . Photo, after photo, after photo.
“Izuku.” And Katsuki almost sounds pleading. “Izuku, touch me.”
Fuck. Arousal is so potent it feels like a punch hits Izuku and suddenly he’s tossing the camera like it’s garbage and grabbing Katsuki with both hands. His meaty shoulders, his thick pecs, his lithe waist. Fuck, the contact is so good. It’s like Izuku has been dead all along, and only now that he’s touched Kacchan can he truly begin living. He thrusts up against Katsuki’s crotch desperately and Katsuki cries out.
“Fuck!” His face is red, brow furrowed and mouth gaping. Izuku stares at him, completely transfixed. “Agh, Izuku, holy shit .”
“Kacchan likes it,” Izuku mumbles, more to himself than anything. “Kacchan likes it? Kacchan wants more?”
Katsuki’s hips buck underneath him, so hard he nearly throws him off.
“ Don’t you dare fuckin’ stop, ” he hisses. Izuku rolls his hips rhythmically, obediently, with single-minded purpose. Kacchan likes it, Kacchan likes it, Kacchan likes me rubbing on his cock, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan. It’s all spilling out of his mouth as they rut against one another, hot through the fabric of their jeans and rough with the added friction. Holy shit, it’s so good. Kacchan glitters with sweat and Izuku gapes at him. Kacchan, beautiful Kacchan.
Katsuki’s hands grip his waist hard.
“Izuku,” he rasps. “Gonna—”
And then he breaks off gasping. His shoulders drop, his mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. Izuku drinks in the sight of Katsuki as he cums and he’s so erotic, so perfect that Izuku only has to thrust twice more before he’s following after. Fuck. His orgasm rolls over him, warm and blissful and intense . Izuku has never cum so hard in his life. The pleasure pulses on and on and on.
Izuku is still lost to his high when warm hands coax him down. Izuku falls forward, laying across Katsuki’s chest and breathing hard. Fingers frame Izuku’s face, tilting his head up until their mouths meet in one soft kiss.
Oh.
Somehow, that rushes through Izuku like nothing else has. Starlight prickles over his skin, every hair on his body stands on end, a brilliant thrill flutters in his chest. His lips part for Katsuki and they kiss again and again. Soft kisses. Savoring kisses. Mouths caressing one another slowly and lovingly. So unlike the animal frenzy of the moment. Happiness swells inside Izuku so quickly he feels like he might explode.
“Kacchan,” he says against Katsuki’s mouth. His hands come up to cradle Katsuki’s face. “Kacchan, Kacchan.”
And Katsuki grins against his lips.
Later, after they’ve showered and changed and collapsed onto Izuku’s bed together, Izuku retrieves his camera. He flips through the photos, relishing how Katsuki’s blush intensifies between each picture and his stomach fluttering at the memories. He looks to Kacchan now: on his belly in bed, wonderfully shirtless, and fluffy head smashed into Izuku’s pillow. God, Izuku’s heart is so warm and full.
Izuku raises his camera and takes the shot.