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It’s not like Katsuki actually cares about the little red dragonling that’s been following him around since he left the mountains. He’s just gotten used to it, obviously.

He hadn’t meant to wander into the middle of a fucking territory battle between two groups of wild drakes. But then when the smoke cleared and this thing no bigger than a housecat was staring up at him with these huge eyes... Even Katsuki had to admit it was kinda cute. And he did appreciate something incendiary.

“There you fucking are,” he mutters, finally catching sight of it hovering on an updraft in the distance, barely visible in the twilight. He watches as the dragon’s wings fold in and it suddenly drops from the sky at a sharp angle. When it emerges from the tall grass, there’s something dark and struggling held in its talons.

Katsuki whistles, high and loud, and holds out his arm.

The dragon floats towards him and circles around once, then drops what turns out to be a huge hare at Katsuki’s feet before perching on his bicep. Small, sharp claws dig into his skin as it climbs to his shoulder and curls in against his neck.

“Show-off,” Katsuki says, smirking down at the hare, which has gone still.

The dragon makes a chittering sound and nips at Katsuki’s ear.

“Oi, don’t push your luck,” Katsuki says, but he runs his fingers along the curve of the dragon’s long spine before kneeling down to get their dinner started.

Earlier Katsuki had picked out this spot to make camp for the night—a craggy slash at the base of a low hill that offers some protection from the elements and the other nastier things that might slink around in the dark here. It’s been a long day. He’d covered a lot of ground, and then there were those bandits at the edge of the forest who made the mistake of thinking this particular lone traveler was someone they could fuck with and still walk away.

By the time the hare’s been roasted and devoured, Katsuki’s ready to fall asleep where he sits. The dragonling is still digging blackened bones from the ashes of the campfire and crunching them between sharp little teeth.

“You’re gonna take first watch, right?” Katsuki says, overtaken by a yawn at the end.

The dragon gazes up at him, the glow of embers reflecting in its red eyes. Then it takes wing and glides over to where Katsuki is stretching out on his makeshift bedding. It lands heavily on Katsuki’s thigh and wanders up his body like it belongs there, lets out its own snuffling yawn, and then curls itself into a winged knot in the center of Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

It’s not that he’s keeping the damn thing around on purpose. Or that he feels particularly responsible for it. But it isn’t the worst thing, to have someone to talk to out here, even if they can’t talk back.

Katsuki falls into a dreamless sleep with one hand still resting on the dragon’s back.

When he wakes, drifting groggily towards consciousness, it’s not morning yet. Not even close. Everything’s still dark and quiet all around, aside from the remains of the campfire still smoldering in its circle of stones. And there’s a weight on Katsuki’s chest, heavy, much heavier than—no, there’s a fucking person on his chest.

Katsuki tries to scramble out from under his assailant while feeling for the dagger beside him, but this fucker is really clinging hard, damn strong and all tangled around Katsuki and seemingly uninterested in moving. Or in murdering him. Or even in waking up, for that matter. Katsuki stops struggling just long enough to get a good view as a head crowned in long spikes of fiery red hair tilts up from where it had been tucked in close against his neck. Hot breath gusts into his face.

“Oh!” the mysterious, naked stranger says. “ ’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“What the shit,” Katsuki barks. “Who the fuck are you? What do you think you’re doing? I’m going to fucking destroy you—”

The guy just stares at him, blinking these huge, pretty eyes, the picture of innocence and confusion. “Uh. I was named Eijirou,” he says, as if this provides any useful information. “Hey, I’m sorry if I surprised you, but it’s not like I can control it, the first time a shift happens, so—”


“Like, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t destroy me?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I—”

“Well, you did take me!” Those red eyes narrow, brows drawn to an angle Katsuki is much more comfortable interpreting. “And you kept me, and fed me, and—didn’t you want me?”

Again this is not actually giving Katsuki much in the way of explanation, but it’s not the easiest to fucking concentrate with this guy still sprawled on top of him, all warm skin and thick muscle and very naked and pinning him with a look that’s practically ablaze now.

Didn’t you want me?

The fuck kind of question is that?

It’s then that he notices the wings.

They’re small and impractical-looking, but definitely there. Definitely wings, dark red and leathery, folding and unfolding over Eijirou’s shoulders in a series of twitchy movements. They look, of course, of fucking course, exactly like the wings on the little dragonling that had been curled up on Katsuki’s chest before he’d fallen asleep.

“You,” Katsuki concludes.

Eijirou’s eyes go glittery. “Yes, me! Exactly!”

Katsuki’s heard rumors before of dragon broods that still have the old magic in their veins, ones with the ability to transform and take on the appearances of men. It sounded like fairy stories to him, though. Not something he ever thought would be sitting here digging pointy elbows into his ribs.

Eijirou.” Katsuki scowls. The name’s not anywhere near as awesome as what he’d been occasionally calling it—him—but probably makes more sense if he’s going to be walking around looking all human like that.

“I know it’s no Deathbringer,” Eijirou says, “but...” He flashes a wide grin filled with entirely too many pointed teeth.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says. “Whatever. It’s your name, not my problem if it’s lame.”

Eijirou laughs, and between both their splayed legs something heavy starts pounding against the ground. There’s just enough ambient light from the dying fire for Katsuki to make out a broad glimmering of red scales in the shadows—Eijirou’s goddamn tail thumping excitedly into the soft dirt.

Katsuki is fucking done. His head hits the bunched-up fur he’d been using as a pillow and he groans, smacking both hands over his eyes and pressing hard until he sees a few stars.

While Katsuki drags his hands down his face, Eijirou surges up to straddle his hips and lean over him, gripping both of his shoulders. He’s heavy, pressing Katsuki’s back into the ground. His fingernails dig in more sharply than a man’s should, his rough palms catch against Katsuki’s bare skin, and he’s hovering way, way too close.

“So you do, right?” Eijirou stares him straight in the eyes, searchingly and totally fucking fearless in a way few people Katsuki encounters ever are.

But he’s also biting his bottom lip—one sharp white tooth pressing deep into the soft flesh there—and it’s distracting. Which must be why Katsuki hasn’t thrown him off yet.

“Do—what?” Katsuki sputters.

Want me,” Eijirou says hastily. “You’ll be my rider, right? I couldn’t believe my luck, when you found me, when you took me with you, because—like, wow.”

There’s something impish about Eijirou’s smile now, and it makes Katsuki shiver despite how he’s been feeling increasingly warm all over—which he’s pretty sure has nothing to do with the campfire.

“I mean, look at you,” Eijirou rambles on. He splays his hands over Katsuki’s chest, rattling the trophy fangs strung around his neck. “When I saw you fight, I just knew, you were so powerful, and fast, and—and confident, and then you did that thing with the magic and went all explodey and—”

Eijirou sounds a little breathless now, wriggling in place with every emphatic word, his strange red eyes gone dark. Katsuki just smirks—this guy may be making a huge embarrassment of himself, but he’s not wrong.

“You took down those jade drakes that were threatening my clutch like they were nothing, and I thought—hell yes! That’s the kind of guy I’d want to have on my back.”

“I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t do that for you, asshole! What do you think I am?” Katsuki scowls and grabs Eijirou by the hips to have another go at dislodging him.

But then Eijirou’s face goes all soft and questioning again.

“Well, you’re a hero, aren’t you?”

Katsuki’s breath catches jagged in his throat.

He’s been called a lot of things in his life. Some true, some of them bullshit, most a little of both. Prodigy. Bully. Commander. Tyrant. Berserker.

Hero has never been one of them, but—he kinda likes the sound of it.

He might even be grinning.

Clearly encouraged by this, Eijirou throws his shoulders back and slams his fists against Katsuki’s chest, mirroring his grin even more fiercely. “I’ll be the toughest mount you could ever find! Fly you into any battle! And back out, of course. If... if you’ll have me.”

He keeps saying shit like that with this intense, hopeful expression. But Katsuki doesn’t do pledges of loyalty or whatever the fuck the prettyboy princes in their shitty castles do. If that’s what Eijirou’s looking for, if that’s what his kind requires, he’s got some fucking disappointment coming.

Then again, Katsuki has spent a fortnight watching this little red spitfire of a dragonling zip around and take out prey three times its size. Honestly, he can’t remember the last time he ate so well. And if the bones he’d seen scattered around the territory of Eijirou’s brood were any indication of how big his other form would eventually get, what he’d be able to do...

“Fucking fine,” Katsuki says. “I’ll—whatever. Just don’t get in my way, understand?”

“Yes! Yeah. Of course!”

“Enough with the goddamn yelling!” Katsuki yells. “We’re not the only dangerous things awake at this hour, for fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry, I won’t—” Eijirou starts, then he bursts out laughing.

Katsuki glares up at him, about to slap both hands over the guy’s mouth to shut him up, but something holds him back. He just looks so fucking gleeful. And kind of cute. Really cute. Shit.

“I’m just really happy,” Eijirou says. He sighs shakily and then all but collapses onto Katsuki, burying his face against the vulnerable spot at the base of his throat. “Ah, you smell so good,” he says, trailing off into a soft growl. “They say that means you’ll be really compatible with your rider, you know... Is it the same for men?”

Katsuki tenses, wary and pretty skeptical about even that smelling-good part, considering he hasn’t touched hot water in a month, let alone soap. “You—you want to know if I think you smell good? Fucking weirdo, why—”

And then Eijirou drags his tongue up the side of Katsuki’s neck.

Sh-shit,” Katsuki hisses. It’s rough and wet and long, and Katsuki’s never let anyone lick him before, but it’s—it’s not unpleasant. His fingers clench hard when Eijirou writhes against him, thumbs lingering over the V of muscle at his hips.

He probably should be more worried than he is about those teeth being so close to his neck.

“Mmm,” Eijirou moans quietly, oblivious, nuzzling at the corner of Katsuki’s jaw. “You even taste good, like the fire, that’s so—ah, god, I want to—can I—”

Katsuki doesn’t know if there’s some kind of crazy-ass dragon magic happening, but all of a sudden everything feels real hot and heavy, like a storm rolling in. One second he’s distractedly realizing he can feel the thick length of Eijirou’s dick against his belly; the next Eijirou is letting out a deep whine and darting in to snag Katsuki’s mouth with his own.

The kiss tastes like ash, darkly satisfying. Like embers, maybe. Something slow-burning yet very much alive. And no, Katsuki’s not gonna start composing shitty haiku about it or anything, but the silly fucker has a point—something about it just feels right.

Eijirou barely gives him time to catch his breath, nipping and licking and sealing their lips together for long, fierce moments that leave Katsuki dazed and aching. Maybe he has been missing out, spending all his time alone in the wilds... but then, no way would it be like this with a normal human, would it? Not someone who could just as easily turn around and tear his throat out?

Katsuki may not have much experience in this, but he’s not a fucking moron, and he’s always been able to trust his instincts to see him through a fight. This isn’t a fight, not exactly, but it’s quickly shifting into something familiar, intensely physical and reckless in a way that makes the blood surge in his veins, and he decides to let his body do what it wants. Which, right now, is to rock his hips up while grabbing hold of the soft muscle of Eijirou’s ass with both hands.

Eijirou growls, his wings snapping in the air, and Katsuki tastes blood before he can breathe again.

None of it lets him forget just what it is that’s sprawled on top of him and greedily sucking on his tongue. Eijirou seems unable to stop fucking moving, overwhelming Katsuki with the hot friction of skin against skin and the weight of him grinding down on Katsuki’s dick, which is hard as fuck and still trapped in his pants.

“What did they name you?” Eijirou asks suddenly, with Katsuki’s mouth latched onto his throat. When he doesn’t get more than a grunt for an answer, he tightens the grip of one clawed hand in Katsuki’s hair, jerks his head back, stares into his eyes with urgency. “Tell me.”

Blinking in the waning moonlight, Katsuki can just about make out a pale scar under Eijirou’s brow. He likes scars. They prove you’ve fought fucking hard and you won. He wonders what kind of battle it would take to scar something as strong as a fully grown dragon’s hide, whether he’ll get to see that someday...

“Ka-Katsuki.” His breath is ragged like he’s gotten a break in the middle of a brawl. “Bakugou Katsuki.”

Eijirou looks extremely fucking pleased with himself, perched there like that. And he looks fucking good. He starts leaning back down, and Katsuki’s eyes slide closed—but then he pulls away again.

Katsuki snarls and considers the logistics of flipping them, of pinning Eijirou to the ground. Those wings might get in the way.

Instead he says, “Quit dicking around, you little—”

Eijirou tugs hard on his hair, keeping him just far enough away that they’re still not kissing but almost...

“Tell me—”

“I did, what the fuck.”

“No, I—” There’s a deep, gravelly rumble in Eijirou’s chest that goes straight through Katsuki, and he would be a dirty goddamn liar if he said it wasn’t doing anything for him. “Tell me that I can be yours. That you’ll keep me. That you—you want...”

There’s wildfire in his eyes, and Katsuki is conflicted. He doesn’t want to say anything that will make Eijirou ever stop looking at him like that.

He slides his palms all the way up Eijirou’s back, over flexing muscles to the base of his wings, then back down to where his skin shifts to scales that feel like fine crackled stonework under Katsuki’s fingertips.

“You have no fucking idea how much I want you,” Katsuki says, and his cheeks burn before he’s even gotten all the words out. But it puts a blinding smile on Eijirou’s face, and then Eijirou is nibbling at his neck again, and he guesses that was all right.

Emboldened, Katsuki lets his hands wander more, pressing into the small of Eijirou’s back, and then where his broad tail starts to curve away from his body. Eijirou shudders against him, and Katsuki grins. He presses down more firmly, and Eijirou’s tail swishes between their legs and thumps heavily against the ground to an erratic beat.

“Like that, huh?” he murmurs into Eijirou’s wild hair, exceedingly satisfied when Eijirou whines long and low and arches further into his touch.

“Ah... Katsuki...” Eijirou gasps against his chest. “Do you—can I, please—”

Then he’s sitting up straighter and practically clawing at Katsuki’s pants, which is a little scary but also thank fuck, because Katsuki was starting to think he might die if he didn’t get some relief for his dick soon.

With nothing in the way now, Katsuki can feel there are scales between Eijirou’s legs too, but they’re softer than the patterns on his lower back. It feels surprisingly good rubbing against Katsuki’s cock and the oversensitive skin there. Maybe they could both get off just like this, just rocking against each other, or maybe he could use his hands on them both while Eijirou keeps moving his hips like that—

Then every rational thought is blasted right out of Katsuki’s head when Eijirou grabs Katsuki’s dick and sinks back on it, enveloping him in a slick, searing heat.

“The fuck,” Katsuki gasps. “What—”

Eijirou just growls, a low, steady rumble that only stutters and breaks when he rears up with his sharp-tipped fingers digging into Katsuki’s chest for leverage. His small wings are stretched wide over his shoulders, his head thrown back, face contorted in this mix of relief and ferocity with all his sharp white teeth on display. Katsuki could get used to this.

Shit, Katsuki could never get used to this.

In the dark, Katsuki may not have had a good look at what Eijirou’s got going on between his legs, but he knows what he’d been feeling this whole time, and even now he can see the shape of Eijirou’s dick bobbing as he bounces himself on Katsuki’s lap. It’s strangely ridged and glistening and just dripping fucking everywhere. Entranced, Katsuki reaches down to wrap a fist around the tip of it. Eijirou hisses and clenches hard around Katsuki, who almost comes right then and there, fucking god.

He gives Eijirou a slow stroke, trying to keep his fist tight but finding he has to let his fingers loosen to accommodate him. Reaching the base, he realizes he can slide his fingers even further, inside, to stroke the place where Eijirou’s dick seems to be pushing out from a long split in the dense scales there. It’s so soft inside, so burning hot, and he almost loses it again noticing he can feel just where his own dick is pushing inside Eijirou’s body as he keeps rocking down. Katsuki’s hand is soaked when he draws his fingers back out and slides his fist up to the wet tip.

“Ah... hah... that’s—like that, yeah, tighter, please pleaseplease—” Eijirou gasps, clawing even deeper lines into Katsuki’s skin. Katsuki finds some leverage and starts thrusting up to meet his pace and Eijirou keens, his tail thrashing so hard it threatens to knock Katsuki’s bent legs out from under him.

Then Katsuki can’t help but stare as Eijirou twitches hard in his hand and stripes his belly with hot come, more and more until it pools and drips over the ridges of his abs. Eijirou’s whole body is shaking, the curves of all those taut muscles highlighted with sweat, and it’s too fucking much. Katsuki shoves his hips up once more and stays like that, grinding deep into that strange slick place, swearing incoherently as he finally lets go.

When Katsuki comes back to earth, he can feel his own come dripping out around his softening dick, mixing with the mess already smeared on his stomach. Eijirou hasn’t moved, is just staring down at him with wide, slowly blinking eyes. He’s breathing hard but he looks delighted, and Katsuki can just about make out a bright blush along his cheeks, almost as red as his damn hair.

“Ah—ha,” Eijirou laughs, running a hand back through that particular disaster. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

Katsuki snorts, letting his eyes fall closed. Getting carried away isn’t exactly a foreign concept to him. He grunts when Eijirou climbs off of him. Then big, rough palms are stroking over his stomach, wiping away the drying mess of come and slick, so gently it kind of tickles.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Katsuki asks, cracking one eye to pin Eijirou in place.


He props himself up on his elbows. “Gonna make me breakfast too?”

Eijirou bites his bottom lip and looks over his shoulder, towards the horizon where the first splashes of sunrise are starting to be visible beyond the mountains. “Sure? I mean, I don’t really know how that works, but—there’s probably something good to hunt in that thicket over there? I can definitely catch it!”

“Wha—no, dumbass, I didn’t—just come back here,” Katsuki grumbles, grabbing Eijirou’s wrist and yanking him back to the ground beside him.

“Oh,” Eijirou says in a huff as he falls. “I can—yeah. Okay.” He crawls half on top of Katsuki again, tangling their legs together.

Katsuki shifts, struggling to pull his discarded cloak over the both of them, taking care not to crush Eijirou’s folded wings. “This was a lot easier when you could sleep on my shoulder,” he mutters.

“I could...” Eijirou breaks off into a deep, rumbling yawn. “I could try to change back but I’m pretty... pretty exhausted right now, I don’t...”

He’s rubbing his face sleepily against Katsuki’s chest. It must be some other kind of bullshit dragon magic, the way Katsuki feels so much warmth spreading through him there, and everywhere else they’re touching.

“Fuck no,” Katsuki snaps. “Who said I wanted easy? This is—this is good.”

The end of Eijirou’s tapered tail curls around Katsuki’s bare ankle, small scales rough against his skin.