Rock Paper Scissors | Part 2

I was trying to write this and then I hit a block, so it took longer than I wanted to. But it also feels right to post this just in time for Valentine's day. So I hope you enjoy!

Meanwhile, I'll be working on some art to go with this!

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Katsuki wakes up a little disoriented, covered with a blanket he does not remember putting over himself and overall less sticky than he had anticipated. He’s sore, but that’s not surprising.

What is surprising, is the neat pile of clothes next to him on the bed with a bright yellow sticky note to greet him.

Wear these =)

These turn out to be dark gray sweatpants and a blue tee with the words This is my Plus Ultra shirt in yellow and red lettering. Like some atrocious gift shop t-shirt that Deku got after graduation. Katsuki wants to kill Deku.

Not wearing the shirt though, feels as if it’s the worse option. So Katsuki sucks it up and pulls it on along with the sweatpants.

Almost as if to offend him more, the shirt feels too tight around his shoulders, probably only fitting because Deku likes to wear his shirts loose. At least the sweatpants fit him decently well, although admittedly and expectedly a bit short.

There’s no sign of his own clothes or Deku, but he can faintly hear someone further down the apartment, so that’s where he goes.

He finds the other in the kitchen, stirring a pot of what Katsuki guesses is miso soup, judging by the scent and the ingredients he can see on the side next to two cups of coffee.

Two cups.

Katsuki isn’t quite sure what he expected to happen. He wasn’t expecting Deku to kick him out first thing in the morning but then this hadn’t really crossed his mind either.

Does Deku normally eat a traditional Japanese breakfast? Or is he trying to impress him?

Trying not to think about how much he likes the sound of that second option, Katsuki looks away from the cups to Deku. Deku, who’s just noticed him standing in his kitchen entryway and is blatantly staring. Much like Katsuki supposes he’d just been staring.

Their eyes meet, green gazing into red, and then they don’t. Not because Katsuki breaks eye contact, but because Deku does.

Eyes fixated no longer on Katsuki’s, but lower. Making Katsuki feel self conscious almost as he raises a hand to his neck where Deku’s gaze lingers. Fingers brushing a sore spot that has goosebumps rise across his arms.

Oh.

That’s exactly what Deku is looking at. The marks he can feel beneath his fingertips. Bruises sucked into his skin as evidence of last night.

And Katsuki, with no liquid courage to fall back on, feels awkward and out of place in the span of a second. A feeling he’s not quite used to in Deku’s presence. Deku who seems completely at ease as he pulls the pot of miso soup off the burner, eyes slipping away from the previous night’s activities.

“Morning,” he greets easily, a lazy smile brightening up the room. “I never knew you were a heavy sleeper.”

Which is a ridiculous thing to say.

Deku spends a good part of his life observing everyone around him and writing shit down in notebooks. Yet he hasn’t ever made a note of Katsuki’s sleeping tendencies? But it feels like an olive branch that Katsuki isn’t about to snap in half by calling him out on his bullshit.

“You’re clingy,” he says, choosing to put his foot in his mouth that way instead.

“I like to think you liked it.”

At Katsuki’s noncommittal shrug Deku turns off the grill, checking on the fish a last time before he advances.

They’re not that far apart, maybe 2 or 3 feet of counter space in between them, yet Deku moves slowly, as if he’s giving Katsuki the time to move away. To decide. To say no after last night.

His scarred hands reach out when he closes the distance, brushing across the shirt that’s spread too tight across his chest and abdomen, fingertips teasing the waistband of the borrowed sweats.

“I was kind of hoping these wouldn’t fit,” Deku admits, biting his lip when Katsuki sucks in a breath. “If you rip my shirt, you have to buy me a new one, Kacchan.”

“Fuck you.”

“Anytime.”

Perhaps if Katsuki had any modicum of self preservation left after last night then he would say no. But he’s pretty sure he’s lost any and all ability to reject Deku’s advances somewhere between Deku’s front door and his bedroom approximately 10 hours ago. Maybe even before that.

So he doesn’t protest Deku’s fingers slipping past the waistband, skimming his skin with warm hands. Nor does he fight the other when he hoists him up onto his granite countertop to find his way in between Katsuki’s spread legs, settling easily as if he belongs. And maybe Katsuki wants him to, just a little too much to admit to even himself.

Suddenly, or maybe Katsuki’s just too lost in thought to notice Deku getting up on the tips of his toes to lean in, there’s a pair of soft lips brushing his own. A touch almost too gentle that has Katsuki forget how to breathe, until there’s a hand on his neck guiding him into it with a squeeze of Deku’s fingers to reassure him.

It’s easy to stop thinking after that.

Easy to let Deku take charge.

He almost whines when Deku’s mouth slips away from his with a nip at his bottom lip, only to trail his lips down Katsuki’s jaw. Leaving small nips and light kisses that has Katsuki’s breath stutter. And then he’s sucking another bruise into his neck and Katsuki does whine. High and needy,

Because he needs more than the teasing touches skirting around his dick and maybe Deku should put his mouth to use in that area instead of making sure Katsuki will have a headache thinking about the obvious hickeys later.

But then Deku’s hand leaves his pants, slipping his fingers instead underneath the tautly stretched fabric of the borrowed shirt he’s wearing.

It prompts Katsuki to instinctively pull at the hem of the shirt, intent on taking it off when the hand still on his neck digs its fingers into the short hairs there.

“Keep it on, Kacchan.” It’s a near growl with how gravelly and deep Deku’s voice goes. And it goes straight to Katsuki’s already hard dick. A sudden pinch to his nipple and a soft please, has him shudder.

Oh.

Katsuki hadn’t quite realized that he was in fact wearing Deku’s clothes.

Of course he was.

But fuck him for not anticipating Deku’s reaction. If Katsuki were the one with the notebook he’d be very excited to be able to write down that Deku got a little possessive when it involved sex.

Katsuki nods, with what little movement the hand on his neck allows him before Deku pulls his head back to lick a line across the expanse of skin the position offers him.

“I’m going to have to take some clothes off though, Deku,” he manages, maneuvering his knee to rub against the other’s crotch, where Deku’s hard on is obviously tenting his own sweatpants. “The pants at least.”

There’s an unhappy grumble at the statement, but Deku relents nonetheless.

After pulling Katsuki in for a kiss that’s all dominating tongue, Deku’s hand lets go of his neck, trailing down to his sweatpants. Fingers curling into the fabric of the waistband to slide it down.

All at once Deku is everywhere. There’s a hand on his dick, squeezing and then stroking, firm as opposed to the teasing touches earlier. Another hand at his nipples still, teasing, rubbing its thumb across and flicking. There’s a mouth trailing down from his mouth to his neck and then over his covered chest and abdomen. Teeth catching the hem of his shirt and pulling up so that the mouth can suck marks into his skin there too. And all Katsuki can do to hold on is grab Deku’s hair in retaliation.

Out of the corner of his eye Katsuki spots a black flash slipping past him only to be pulled back a few seconds later, followed shortly by the sound of Deku popping open a bottle of lube and the feel of a slick finger prodding at his entrance.

Black whip definitely isn’t meant to be used for lube and condom retrieval, but Katsuki can’t really find it in himself to care, when it means Deku can multitask his way into fucking him as fast as possible.

Contrasting to last night, both of them are low on patience it seems.

It doesn’t take long for Deku to prep Katsuki, or for Katsuki to curse at Deku to hurry up already and fuck him for that matter. The difference this time around being that Deku does in fact do so.

He pulls Katsuki closer to him. Grips his thighs to slide his ass off the counter so he can line himself up. A move he does with such ridiculous ease it has Katsuki’s mind spinning.

The edge of the countertop is digging uncomfortably into the small of his back, but then Deku is sliding home, instantly dragging his dick right along Katsuki’s prostate and he forgets all about the position he’s in. Even as Deku manhandles him into sliding further off the counter, creating a better angle for his thrusts and a worse one for Katsuki’s back.

Deku’s supporting most of his weight with only one hand, the other bending Katsuki’s leg back against his chest, allowing for deeper, harder rolls of his hips.

Katsuki absolutely does not need to be thinking of how strong Deku is and how much he loves the idea of Deku throwing him around and bending him however much he wants. Yet Katsuki’s flexible and he has the sudden need to find out just how far Deku could push that flexibility.

Maybe next time.

He can’t help but laugh at the thought. A light, soft sound that escapes in between gasps and has Deku stutter.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he near pleads, feeling giddy with the way Deku locks eyes with him. Something close to spellbound. “Heh, keep going, Deku.”

“Sorry.” A reflex almost, a little breathless. “You just…”

“Just what?”

“Looked…” He’s searching for words, eyes darting to the hint of a smile on Katsuki’s lips. “You’re beautiful, Kacchan.”

Normally, he’d have some joke at the ready. Tell Deku that nitroglycerin is great for the skin or some bullshit, but then Deku’s kissing him again. Just as dominating as before but somehow not exactly the same.

Katsuki would say whatever asinine remark he could come up with first, but he finds it’s hard to think when Deku pulls him in impossibly closer, dick brushing right up against all his good spots and rendering Katsuki’s brain unable to function.

So he goes with a gasped out expletive instead, encouraging Deku to carry on. Encouraging him to do whatever he wants and Katsuki would be a-okay with it.

He comes embarrassingly quick. Or at least, he thinks he does. Time gets a little hazy once Deku digs his fingers into his thigh with a bruising force and Katsuki thinks about those fingerprints imprinting themselves on his skin for the next few days.

“Deku.”

It’s the only warning he can give, breaking away from Deku’s mouth for just a second to do so. Catching Deku by surprise. Evident in the falter of his hips when Katsuki spills between them.

“Sorry, Kacchan,” Deku breathes low, “I’m going to keep going.”

“Hmmmm, ah-” Katsuki has to scramble for purchase on the counter when Deku’s hips snap forward again. Sensitivity dialed all the way up as he cums. “Yeah, fuck.”

So he does.

He keeps going. Fucking into Katsuki chasing his own high.

And hell if the edge of oversensitivity creeping up on Katsuki isn’t worth it to see Deku’s face when he does fall over the edge of his own orgasm.

Deku slips his fingers in between Katsuki’s then, once he catches his breath and slips out of him. Slotting their hands together with a content smile on his lips as he leans in for another kiss.

“You really are fucking clingy.”

“Hmmm,” Deku hums thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m just not letting you go this time around.”

“I am not eating breakfast with you holding my hand.”

“Want to sit in my lap?”

“Give it a fucking rest, Deku.”