“Hey, shitnerd, you know you owe me for this.”
Izuku fumbles with the luggage, hurriedly thanking the taxi driver. As the taxi pulls away from the curb, he turns to his traveling companion. “Yes, Kacchan, I know,” he sighs. “Which is why I’m carrying your bag even though I just got off crutches two days ago.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes. He snatches his bag from Izuku and swings it over his shoulder. “It’s your own damn fault for spacing out in the middle of a fight,” he says, turning to face the entrance to the hotel lobby. “Get going already, the reservation is in your name, isn’t it?”
Izuku walks toward the door, hitching his bag a little higher on his back. The glass doors sparkle in the late afternoon sun and slide open at his approach. Classical music spills out from the lobby as well as the low chatter of the other hotel guests. Some of them are recognizable from TV—a few politicians, a few CEOs, and a few pro heroes from various countries—presumably all there for the conference as well.
Katsuki follows Izuku to the reception desk, thinking over his life decisions and trying to remember why he agreed to do this in the first place. According to Izuku, anyway, he had to bring someone and everyone else was busy, which sounds like a lameass excuse. Katsuki didn’t even remember if he’d gotten an invitation or not (probably had, since hero Deku had gotten one, and threw it in the trash because he didn’t want to go). Which brings him back to the question of why he’s following Izuku into the hotel a ten-hour flight from home. Something to do with green eyes and persuasive powers he doesn’t want to admit they have. (But if anyone asks, it’s because he’s always wanted to go to—well, wherever the hell this is).
His attention returns to the present, when he hears raised voices.
“Oh my goodness, it’s Deku!”
“Do you think I can get his autograph?”
“And next to him is—! But why are they here together, do you think they—?”
“Isn’t there some big conference going on?”
There’s a chorus of sighs in various tones of disappointment.
Katsuki turns to glare at the other hotel guests, who are openly staring at them. “You shitty extras know we can hear you, right?”
A few people manage to look embarrassed, but the rest keep chattering away. Katsuki's blood pressure rises. He looks back at the reception desk and his idiot fellow pro hero. “Aren’t you done checking in yet?”
Izuku glances back, looking sheepish. “Well, there’s a slight issue—”
“Well…” He breaks off and turns to the receptionist again. “Are you sure we can’t switch rooms?”
The woman behind the desk bows her head. “The conference was responsible for booking all the rooms, so you would have to talk to them. I can give you the logistics manager’s number to call,” she says, looking apologetic.
“No, it’s fine.” Izuku sighs defeatedly and takes the key to the room.
They cross the hotel lobby, steps echoing off of the shining marble floor. The whispers of the other guests follow them all the way to the gold-plated elevator doors. Izuku steps past the fake plant under the call buttons and onto the sparkling floor of the elevator cabin. He hits the button for the tenth floor. No one else joins them in the elevator, and Izuku breathes a sigh of relief as the sounds from the lobby fade away.
He hesitantly turns to Katsuki. “About the room—I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Katsuki frowns. “Why?”
“You see… most of the conference guests are bringing their significant others, so the room is...” Izuku swallows. “The room only has one bed.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Izuku leaves the elevator first. Katsuki stands staring blankly in front of him for a moment.
He steps from the elevator and stands still as the doors slide shut again behind him. “I want to go home.”
“What?! We just got here.” Izuku pouts. “I said I’d sleep on the floor!”
“I didn’t say I was leaving.” Katsuki looks at the two hallways, one to the right and one to the left. He chooses the one to the left and walks off.
He swivels on his heel. “What?” He snaps.
“Our room is… the other direction.” Izuku makes a small gesture to the other hallway.
Katsuki grits his teeth and stomps down the correct hallway this time. Izuku watches him for a moment, before deciding it’s best not to comment.
The room itself isn’t bad. Being on the tenth floor with a picture window on the outside wall gives them a wide view of the city. To one side, the sun dyes the sky in shades of pink and orange while the other remains a clear blue. The fading sunbeams light the interior of the room, making everything it touches glow. Izuku rushes to the window without bothering to put his bag down, bracing his palms against the windowsill. He surveys the unfamiliar skyline with a hint of a smile on his lips.
“I wish I was better with a camera,” he says. “The view is beautiful.”
Katsuki stares at him. The light gives Izuku a kind of halo, catching the planes of his face and making his eyes shine like emeralds.
He tilts his head over his shoulder and smiles. “Kacchan you should come look, too.”
It only takes a few steps to cross the distance. “Yeah, beautiful,” Katsuki mutters, though he hasn’t looked out the window once.
Izuku doesn’t seem to hear him, having already turned back to the view. He looks fully immersed in the experience, looking something similar to how he does when he finds rare All Might merchandise on sale. Katsuki belatedly turns to the window. After looking for a moment, he turns away, setting his bag by the wall.
When the light begins to fade, it fades quickly. Katsuki turns on the light switch and takes a seat on the bed, grateful for the chance to stretch out after a day of travel.
“What’s the first thing we have to do?” He asks Izuku.
“Didn’t you look at the itinerary I sent you?”
A crease appears between Izuku’s eyebrows as he frowns. “Kacchan—”
“What would be the point? I’m sure you have it memorized.”
Izuku’s mouth presses into a straight line. “There’s a dinner that starts at 6. The dress code is formal, but there’s still the closing banquet tomorrow night, after all the talks and stuff, which is even fancier.” He pushes himself into a standing position, arching his back into a stretch. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announces. “Oh, unless you want to first.”
Katsuki waves his hand dismissively, pulling out his phone to check the time.
Nearly an hour later, Izuku stands in front of the full-length mirror. He bites his lip in concentration. His hands fumble with his tie. The door to the bathroom opens and Katsuki steps out.
“You’re not ready?”
Izuku’s eyes gravitate to Katsuki’s reflection now in the mirror beside his own. His outfit is simple—a white shirt, black slacks, and a deep red sports jacket—but seeing him out of his hero costume or workout clothes is enough of a shock in its own right. He feels his cheeks begin to flush and tries to focus on something else. “Kacchan, your hair—!”
Katsuki’s hand goes to his hair, ducking his head. “It’s a habit from my internships with Best Jeanist.” He turns to glare at Izuku’s reflection, any signs of bashfulness gone. “Aren’t you fucking done yet?”
Izuku startles, realizing he completely forgot about his tie. “Uh, er… almost,” he says. He can feel the weight of Katsuki’s gaze on him, and his hands are clumsier than usual.
“How did you manage to graduate without ever learning how to tie a tie?” Katsuki asks, batting Izuku’s hands out of the way.
Izuku stills. He feels the warmth of Katsuki’s body heat pressed to his back. He lets his hands drop to his sides and focuses just on standing. Kacchan just thinks I’m an idiot, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean anything. Despite what he tries to make himself believe, his heart races, beating so loudly it almost drowns out the sound of Katsuki’s breathing next to his ear. And though he fights the urge, his eyes travel to the mirror. He looks at his own image, noting that his face is about as red as he feared. Then his attention moves to Katsuki.
Their eyes meet in the reflection. Izuku freezes, and Katsuki’s hands hesitate for the same moment. Izuku drags his gaze away, heart beating twice as fast as before. Too soon, Katsuki finishes his work and tightens the tie. He takes a step back.
“Now you look slightly less moronic.”
“Thanks,” Izuku says, gaze still lingering on the mirror. He touches the tie lightly. Its red nearly matches the color of Katsuki’s jacket.
By the time he turns away, Katsuki is standing by the door. Izuku grabs his blazer from the back of the chair and hurries to follow.
They find the room without too much trouble by following other people in formal wear. The dinner begins with a cocktail hour, giving time for everyone to arrive as well as creating an opportunity to see who else is present. There are certain people Izuku has to speak to at least once—various policy makers and sponsors. Due to the long list of people he has to greet unless he wants to offend somebody important, Katsuki walks away, and Izuku has to stay in place. Eventually, Izuku makes it through the list and goes to the drinks table, picking up a glass.
Izuku looks up to see Ochako walking toward him, wearing an off-the-shoulder dress in her signature pink. “I didn’t know you were invited to the conference, too,” he says.
She smiles. “Nejire brought Tsuyu and I along,” she explains, gesturing across the room where the other two stand. They look over to see Ochako pointing and wave to him, before turning back to their conversation. “You look nice,” Ochako says. “Did you get a girlfriend?”
“You look nice, to— what?!” He sets his glass down on the table harder than intended. “I would’ve told you.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m too busy with hero work as always.”
Ochako narrows her eyes.
Izuku suppresses the instinct to take a step back. “Why do you ask?” He asks warily, lifting the glass to his mouth so he doesn’t have to make eye contact.
“Your tie is done properly, so I thought someone else must have done it.” She tilts her head, looking pensive. “If not a girlfriend, was it your boyfriend instead?”
Izuku spittakes. “Hero work—” he coughs. “I’m still too busy for any kind of romantic relationship.” He takes the napkin that Ochako holds out to him. “It was just Kacchan. I kind of forced him to come along,” he explains, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.
“I know you’ve said you were too busy for dating several times. But I thought, not for just anyone, but for a certain person… you might have found time.” She smiles a bit mysteriously as she speaks.
“Kacchan doesn’t think of me that way.”
Ochako blinks. Her smile grows a little wider. “I didn’t say a name.”
“Ah.” Izuku glances away. “Right.” Though it looks like Ochako already suspected his feelings for Katsuki, he never meant to tell her. He never meant to tell anyone, really, because what good would come of that? He was happy to have his friendship with his childhood playmate back—to have a rival, and someone who would share the secret of One for All—and he couldn’t hope for anything beyond that.
“You know, it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to get Bakugou to do anything he really objects to.”
He nods slowly, curiosity pricking at him enough that he looks up.
“I think that he might’ve wanted to accompany you.”
“I doubt it.”
Ochako returns to her group not long after that, leaving Izuku soft “good luck.” Izuku wanders the room, taking slow steps. He already greeted everyone he needed to, so he makes his way to the drinks table once more and stands, a fresh glass in hand, scanning the room for a familiar face. As he looks around, it seems like there are more couples than individuals. A pang of loneliness stabs his chest.
“How many of those have you had?”
Izuku jumps. “Kacchan—hey!”
Katsuki grabs the drink from Izuku’s hand and downs the rest of it. “Ew.” He says, setting the empty glass down.
“No one told you to drink it,” Izuku says, pouting. “I’m an adult, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” Katsuki says. “Dinner hasn’t even started. I have to drag you back to the room if you pass out, so don’t you dare drink that much.”
“That was my second,” Izuku snaps.
Three hours later, as people finally start to leave, Izuku rests his head in his hand. His brain feels fuzzy. He stares at the floor, but every time he blinks it seems to shift. The rest of the table empties. Every cell in his body is reluctant to move.
“What did I tell you.”
That’s Katsuki’s voice.
Izuku manages to lift his head enough to look at him. “I didn’t pass out,” he protests weakly. “That guy—the one who kept pouring me drinks—was the CEO of Company X… it would be… bad to offend him.”
Katsuki grabs his elbow. “Can you walk?”
Izuku glances at the floor, which tilts as he looks at it. “In theory,” he answers hesitantly. The floor tilts even further, which confuses him until he realizes he’s being lifted. “Kacchan—?”
“You are such a pain in the ass,” the blond grits out as he hefts Izuku onto his shoulder.
His head still feels fuzzy and somewhat disoriented, but Katsuki’s familiar scent and his secure hold eradicate any anxiety he might otherwise have had. A smile spreads across his lips as he relaxes. His consciousness fades away, seeming to float independent of his body.
Katsuki stops walking, and some awareness comes back to him. Izuku vaguely senses someone else.
“...Deku? What happened?” The voice sounds feminine and quite familiar. After a few seconds, he realizes it’s Ochako.
“Some asshole kept plying him with drinks,” he hears Katsuki’s voice say.
“...ke care of him.”
Of course? Izuku’s brain echoes foggily. That was Kacchan, wasn’t it?
“Also, the blood will flow to his brain if you carry him that way.”
“How else am I supposed to carry him?”
“I’d suggest—” Ochako’s footsteps carry her far enough to be out of arm's reach of Katsuki. “— bridal style!”
The sound of Ochako’s footsteps resumes, getting farther away. “I know what I’m talking about, I’m a rescue hero, remember?”
For what feels like a few minutes, Katsuki stands frozen still. Then he repositions Izuku into his arms. Katsuki frowns when he sees that Izuku’s eyes are open.
“You heard that didn’t you? Blame Uraraka for this.”
Izuku blinks but fails to put a sentence together. He wants to say something like thank you or I don’t mind or even don’t put me down, I like it here, but his mouth doesn’t seem to work anymore. The urge to speak fades, and he lets his eyes shut, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of Katsuki’s walking. When he opens his eyes next, he lies on the hotel bed. His brain feels less fuzzy, and the room doesn’t spin when he attempts to sit up. The lights are on, which means Katsuki must still be awake. Izuku notes that his blazer along with his shoes and tie have been removed. His memories come back slowly, until he remembers just how he got back to their hotel room. He hides his face in hands, feeling like his skin is burning. What must Katsuki think of him now?
“I’ve seen you do all sorts of stupid shit—doesn’t make much difference.”
Izuku squeaks in shock. Did he say that out loud?
“K-kacchan?” He raises his head to look for the source of voice, forgetting that his face is bright red. He spots Katsuki with a towel around his neck, hair clearly wet from showering and no longer smoothed down. “I see,” he sighs. “I don’t think I want to know what else you’ve seen me do.”
“You do not,” Katsuki confirms, toweling his hair dry.
Izuku stares at him. Well, now he’s curious. And a bit scared. But mostly curious. “Tell me,” he says.
Katsuki tosses the towel to the side where it lands on the back of the chair. “There was one time you tried to eat dirt and another when it was—”
“I was four!” Izuku relaxes after his outburst. “If the list starts back then…” It must be a really long list. But he hasn’t done anything really, really stupid. Has he? “I can’t believe you have a list of stupid things I’ve done over the past twenty years.”
“It’s not comprehensive,” Katsuki says with a yawn. “Also, since you’re conscious, change into your pajamas.”
Izuku’s limbs are heavier than usual, and the concept of moving seems like too much effort. “I don’t want to.” He grunts as something soft lands on his face. Picking it up, he sees that it’s the T-shirt and shorts he brought to sleep in.
“Move,” Katsuki says. He glares at Izuku who remains decidedly still. “Get up!” He snaps. This time he grabs the nearest pillow and whacks Izuku with it.
Izuku finally moves, half rolling off the bed to dodge the next blow with the pillow. He feels like he’s walking through thick fog, but manages to change into his clothes without incident. When he returns, he finds Katsuki sitting on one side of the bed, scrolling through his phone. Izuku puts his stack of clothes beside his bag and glances between the bed and the floor. He had said he would sleep on the floor. He owed Katsuki enough for spending two of his rare days off accompanying him.
“Get up here.” Katsuki puts his phone down yawning. “What are you waiting for? Go to bed.”
He blinks at the bed. It is a large bed, but still—sharing a bed with Kacchan? He’s not sure he’ll survive.
Katsuki interrupts his thoughts by throwing a pillow at him. “Go the fuck to bed.”
Hesitantly, Izuku complies. He glances at Katsuki curiously as he settles. It feels like there’s something more than air between them, but he can’t put a name on it. His heart weighs heavier in his chest than usual. And for some reason, the urge to offer his hand to Katsuki surfaces. Ochako’s words from earlier echo in his ears—a certain person. There was never a question of who she referred to. Her meaning was as clear as if she had spoken his name. Izuku’s gaze is drawn to Katsuki once more, as if by a magnet. The gaze that Katsuki gives him in return is scarlet, like wildfire.
It slowly dawns on him that he’s staring, And even more slowly that Katsuki stares back.
“Kacchan…” His fingers reach toward Katsuki without his bidding.
Katsuki breaks eye contact to look at Izuku’s outstretched hand. “Why?”
“I…” Izuku starts to withdraw, regret building in his stomach, when Katsuki grabs his wrist. “I must still be drunk,” he mutters, planting himself on the bed, but making no move to pull his hand away.
Izuku falls asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he thinks Katsuki intertwines their fingers before he drifts off.
Surely, he must be dreaming.
When he wakes, he wakes to sunlight filtering in the window and a bed that feels strangely empty. His eyes linger on the empty spot next to him, the sheets still wrinkled. It must have been a dream. But if it was, it had been a pleasant one. Izuku sits up. His head spins. He groans as he puts his hands to his head, pressing against his temples in an effort to alleviate the pain. The lock clicks and the door opens. Izuku raises his head to watch Katsuki walk in.
“You're awake.” Katsuki tosses a water bottle at him.
Izuku attempts to catch it but it slips through his fingers. He picks it up and unscrews the cap. “Thanks, Kacchan.”
Katsuki marks an indistinct sound of acknowledgement. “It’s 9:45, you have about fifteen minutes to stop looking like a hot mess.”
Izuku tries not to choke and mostly succeeds. “You think I’m hot?” He coughs, eyes tearing up. “Or a mess?”
“Mostly a mess,” Katsuki replies.
That’s fair . Izuku nods, a bit dejectedly.
Katsuki makes no indication of having heard, though the tips of his ears turn pink. He settles in the chair, resting his elbow on the table next to it. Izuku manages to find the motivation to get out of bed and walks to his luggage, which sits on the table.
“Check Twitter,” Katsuki says, not looking up from his phone screen.
Izuku pauses in the middle of sorting through his luggage for clothes. He looks at him, his apprehension building. “Why?”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” He examines Katsuki’s expression. He doesn’t look angry. He looks about as emotional as someone commenting on the weather. Shouldn’t he be upset? Izuku bites his lip.
“People in the hotel lobby yesterday posted stuff,” Katsuki says, more intensely focused on his phone than ever.
“We’ve been seen in the same place before,” Izuku points out.
“Checking into a hotel together a ten-hour flight from home?”
Izuku wants to say something in response, but all the instances he can think of were with other people present. They had travelled with All Might a couple of times and with other class A students as a group, but just the two of them?
“There’s the conference,” Izuku says, trying not to sound desperate.
“You were the one that said most people bring their significant others.”
Right. Izuku stares out the window. “Are you mad?”
“It’s not the first time it’s happened.” Katsuki doesn’t sound mad. Rather, his tone is almost neutral, which makes Izuku think he must be missing something. “Do you want to give those fuckers something to talk about?”
“Like what?” Izuku asks.
The chair clatters as Katsuki pushes it out of the way, and he pins Izuku against the table. “The truth.”
“The truth?” The only thing he can think about is how close Katsuki is and how fast his own heart beats.
“Go out with me.”
Izuku’s eyes widen in response, and his first thought is denial. This can’t be real. “Punch me,” he says.
“I think I’m dreaming, but just in case—”
Katsuki pinches his cheeks. “Listen, you ass, you’re awake, and I just asked you out.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m sure I’m asleep.”
Katsuki pinches harder.
“Ow,” Izuku complains. “Ok, maybe an alternate universe? Or you’re not actually my Kacchan?”
Katsuki fails to react for a few seconds. “Your— who’s your— it’s me, you idiot!” He sighs in exasperation. “Is it that hard to believe I like you?”
“You like me?”
In the couple seconds of quiet, Izuku can only hear the sound of his heartbeat. His cheeks still sting from Katsuki’s pinches, so he knows he must be awake, but part of him still feels like it must be an illusion.
“I—” Izuku relaxes upon eye contact. He knows Katsuki’s face too well to read him wrong. “I just didn’t think I could be that lucky,” he says with an embarrassed laugh.
The next thing he knows, Katsuki is kissing him. He forgets time and place and everything that exists outside of the two of them. Katsuki’s scent is familiar. And somehow kissing him—something he’s only fantasized about or dreamed—becomes the only real thing. The edge of the table digs into his back, and yet there isn’t a thing he would change about this moment. Izuku forgets to breathe—forgets he needs to.
Time seems to start when Katsuki breaks away. It takes a few seconds for Izuku to regain his bearings—for the hangover to come back, to remember where he is, to realize that this moment is real. He smiles, and Katsuki tries not to squint like he’s looking at the sun.
“Ack! The conference!” He manages to slip out of Katsuki’s grasp. “I have to be a responsible adult and go to the conference.
He scrambles to grab his clothes from the bag and dash to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. For a moment, he leans against the door to catch his breath. Already in his twenties but this is the first time he has had the chance to see what requited feelings do. At the moment, he can hardly think. His knees are weak and his stomach squirms (though maybe that’s the hangover), and he finally understands why all those clichés exist.
Izuku rests his hands on either side of the sink and looks at his reflection. He does look a mess. Hurriedly, he splashes water on his face and brushes his teeth. These are both familiar things, and the cool mint helps him clear his mind. Finally dressed and looking half-way presentable, he checks the mirror one last time before exiting.
He holds out his hand. “Kacchan, let’s go together.”
This time, Katsuki doesn’t hesitate before taking his hand.
They’re still holding hands when they walk into the first session of the conference, but no one comments until the coffee break. Izuku decides a cup of coffee and a bagel are probably a good idea. Standing with the newly-acquired bagel in his hand, he looks around the room for where Katsuki went, when Ochako slaps him on the back. He jumps.
“Congratulations.” Her phone dings. “The group chat wants to know if it’s true.”
“Er.” He is 99% certain he knows what she’s talking about, but come to think of it, he hasn’t checked his phone yet or seen what exactly was trending on Twitter. “If… if what’s true?”
“If you hooked up.”
“I’m offended everyone believes it was just a hookup.”
He jumps at the sound of Katsuki’s voice. “Kacchan!” He exclaims.
Katsuki slips an arm around his waist. Izuku tenses for a moment, before he relaxes into his hold, remembering that this is a comfort he’s now allowed to have.
Ochako smiles. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says and turns away with a small wave.
Katsuki lets his head rest on Izuku’s shoulder, hair tickling his cheek.
“What are you doing?” Izuku asks, bemused.
“Shut up,” Katsuki mutters.
Izuku reaches up to tap the side of Katsuki’s face. “Let’s go somewhere with fewer people.”
A few minutes later, they stumble into the nearest men’s room. Luckily, it’s empty at the moment. The low light gives the air a softer atmosphere, and the fine fixtures and mahogany doors to the stalls make it more appealing. Katsuki slams the door to the stall behind them and flips the lock. Izuku barely manages to turn around before Katsuki’s lips are on his once more. His kisses are demanding, taking Izuku’s breath away. Izuku lets his hands wander—touching his hair, the back of his neck. Each point where Katsuki touches him burns.
“K-kacchan,” Izuku says breathlessly, pulling away just enough to speak. “We only have a few minutes, so—”
“So?” Katsuki prompts. He slips both hands around Izuku’s waist and down to the curve of his ass for a squeeze. “Are you that eager for me to fuck you?”
Izuku lets out a small moan and claps a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he hisses. “In our room…”
“You can’t go upstairs like this,” Katsuki says, cupping the front of Izuku’s pants. He undoes his belt with a click and slips his hand under Izuku’s waistband.
“Kacchan, please…” Izuku whimpers.
“Please what?” Katsuki asks, caressing the bulge in Izuku’s pants. “Tell me.” His hand pauses. “Though I left the lube upstairs, so you have to wait before I can fuck you properly.”
Izuku bites his lip. “W-wait,” he says. “Anyone could walk in, this is—this is a public bathroom! Let’s just go upstairs.”
“Like this?” He squeezes for emphasis, causing Izuku to shudder.
“Hnnn… no, but…” Izuku tries to protest. “Ugh, fine, just do whatever.”
Katsuki pauses to flick his forehead. “Wishy-washy,” he scolds. “Ah, fuck…” He undoes the front of Izuku’s pants and his own, pressing their cocks together. “This’ll have to do for now.”
Izuku’s hips thrust to meet his. “Kacchan,” he says. “This isn’t enough.”
“That’s why I said ‘for now,’” Katsuki snaps. His hands go to the collar of Izuku’s shirt and make quick work of the buttons. He presses a kiss to the juncture of Izuku’s neck and shoulder, just grazing the skin with his teeth, as his hands trace the planes of Izuku’s stomach. “You have two hands, too,” he reminds.
Izuku clings to Katsuki with one arm hooked around his neck. His free hand goes to fist their cocks together, though his fingers aren’t long enough to wrap all the way around both of them. His heart pounds in his chest. He thinks things are moving too fast and not fast enough. He’s been in love with Katsuki for so long that, despite getting together earlier that day, it feels like there are years of desire to make up for.
The precum that leaks over his hand makes it easier to move, and he can feel the heat building more quickly than he does when it’s just him, his hand, and a box of tissues.
Which is, of course, the moment the door to the mens room opens and a few people walk in. Izuku freezes, biting his lip in an effort to stay silent. He attempts to stay still, but his body trembles with the effort, aching with desire. Despite the sound of footsteps outside, his cock twitches and he resumes the movement of his hand. If he doesn’t get to come in the next few seconds, he’s going to cry. Or maybe he already is. Katsuki swipes a thumb under his eye, cupping his cheek, and he manages to look up. For some reason, he has been avoiding Katsuki’s gaze, like it will break the spell, but now that he looks up, he finds himself more spellbound than ever. Katsuki gazes at him through his golden eye lashes, cheeks dusted with pink. He bites his lip harder, but a small sound escapes.
“Did you hear something?” One of the men outside says.
Izuku presses his lips together and leans into Katsuki’s shoulder, but he doesn’t stop the movement of his hand or his hips. Just a little bit more, and he’ll come.
“Nah, you were just imagining it,” another voice answers.
Izuku feels his pleasure peak. Despite his best efforts, he moans audibly, wincing at the sound.
“Okay, this time I definitely heard something,” the first voice says.
Katsuki grabs his wrist and lifts his hand, the one sticky with cum, and licks his palm clean. Izuku shudders, burying his head into Katsuki’s shoulder. Even if he came, once isn’t enough. Katsuki pries him off his shoulder to fix him with a crimson gaze that sends the heat right to the base of his spine. He deliberately licks each finger and between them. Izuku bites his lip again, wondering if should even bother keeping his voice down. Whoever is outside already knows.
“Damn, it’s the middle of the day.”
“Wish I still had that kind of energy.”
As his high fades, Izuku’s head clears and the embarrassment rises. He stays as still as possible, hoping that their unwanted audience will leave. When he hears footsteps, he breathes a sigh of relief. But just before the door closes, he hears one of the men call, “have fun!” The door clicks shut. Izuku sinks to his knees as the tension leaves his body. They’re finally alone again.
“Don’t just get off all by yourself.”
Izuku looks up at the sound of Katsuki’s voice and flushes. On his knees, his eyes are at the same level as Katsuki’s waist. “Let’s see how long you last,” he challenges, reaching for Katsuki’s erection.
“Hey—” Katsuki’s voice cuts off when Izuku’s lips touch the head of his cock. “Damn,” he hisses.
Izuku smiles up at Katsuki as best he can.
“Don’t look so satisfied with yourself.” Katsuki’s annoyed tone is mitigated by the breathlessness in his voice and the look in his eyes. He clicks his tongue and tangles his fingers in Izuku’s hair to avoid eye contact.
Only a short while later, Izuku pulls back, swiping the back of his hand over his lips. “Was that even sixty seconds?”
“Shut the hell up, don’t compare me to you,” Katsuki snaps, helping Izuku to his feet with an annoyed grunt. “We’re going upstairs.”
“Huh, like this?”
“You want to spend the rest of your life in this damn bathroom?”
Izuku looks away. “No, but…”
“You’re still hard, aren’t you?”
Izuku makes no audible answer, but his cheeks redden even further.
“I’ll carry you,” Katsuki says. “The hallway should be empty since the conference is back in session.” He watches Izuku’s expression switch to worry. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of going back.”
“Well, not right now, but it would be bad if someone noticed we were missing.”
They make it to the elevators without incident, and Katsuki sets Izuku on his feet once the doors slide shut. Izuku turns to the mirrored walls and stares at his reflection. His hair is in disarray. There are a few marks visible on his neck and chest that are already starting to darkon. His shirt is only half-buttoned, and he begins to button it up properly.
“There’s no point in doing that,” Katsuki says, covering Izuku’s hands with his own. “I’ll just need to unbutton it again when we get to the room.”
Katsuki steps behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder to look at their reflection. The image in the mirror makes Izuku’s chest warm, and a smile spreads across his face without his bidding—they look like a couple—they are a couple. Just yesterday, he wouldn’t have believed this moment was possible.
“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Katsuki asks.
“Nothing,” Izuku says, pouting. “And Kacchan—”
“When we get upstairs, we’re only d-doing it once,” he says, trying to sound firm.
Katsuki hmms in acknowledgement, his lips against Izuku’s neck. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he answers, a lot less convincingly than he would like. “I have some sense of responsibility, so I have to go back to the conference. But tonight, after the banquet finishes, I’m all yours.”
Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Fine,” he concedes. “But you got one thing wrong.”
“You’re always all mine.”
The elevator dings, and Katsuki picks him up again despite his protests. Izuku rests his head against his collarbone, happy that his system is sober this time. This moment will live in his memory untouched by the haze of alcohol, though his body is under the influence of a different drug.
“Always? That sounds like a marriage proposal,” Izuku says lightly, trying to sound as if it doesn’t matter that much, even if they both know it does.
Katsuki hesitates just a second. “Always means always . You’re not getting away from me.”
“That means you’re really ‘my Kacchan,’ now,” Izuku says with a teasing smile.
When they reach the room, Katsuki hardly bothers to kick off his shoes before walking to the bed and unceremoniously dumping Izuku onto it. Izuku lets out a squawk of indiginance as he lands on the mattress, and it takes him a couple of seconds to regain his bearings. He huffs as he sits up. He unties his shoes and discards them, but hesitates, staring down at his belt buckle.
Izuku startles, before slowly getting to work. Just as he undoes his belt, something bounces off his side. He glances over to see a bottle of lube.
Katsuki climbs onto the bed, already naked. “Why are you so slow?” He says, pushing Izuku back against the headboard and removing all the clothes from his lower half in one smooth motion.
Izuku gazes up at Katsuki, taking in the curves of his muscles and the scars that are few and far between scattered over his skin. He hears Katsuki crack open the bottle of lube and tenses in anticipation. A moment later, one of Katsuki’s fingers presses against his hole, and he flinches. “That’s cold,” he hisses.
Katsuki ignores him. “Relax,” he says, as he pushes the first finger in. “I said relax.” A hint of annoyance enters his voice.
“Easier said than done,” Izuku retorts, though he does try.
Katsuki adds a second finger, causing him to squirm. “You want to get back to the conference quickly, right?” He asks, and Izuku gives him an accusational look.
“Don’t bring that up now. No need to rush.”
He doesn’t withdraw the second finger, but spends a couple minutes stretching him open. Long enough that Izuku grows impatient. His toes curl, gripping onto the sheets. “Kacchan, please—” he whines.
Katsuki moves his fingers faster, searching for Izuku’s prostate. Izuku moans when Katsuki succeeds, and Katsuki smirks. “Say it properly,” he demands, pressing against the spot again.
Izuku looks at him, framed between his thighs. “I don’t just want your fingers,” he says, fighting the blush that rises on his face. “Kacchan, please fuck me.”
Katsuki presses a kiss to his forehead. “Since you said ‘please…’” He lifts Izuku’s legs and positions himself.
“W-wait, not all at once,” Izuku says.
Katsuki clicks his tongue, but complies with Izuku’s demand.
Izuku moans though he tries to suppress it, pressing a hand to his mouth and clenching his teeth.
Katsuki flicks his forehead. “Relax,” he chides.
He pushes his hips the rest of the way forward. Izuku shudders beneath him, a swear word he rarely uses falling from his lips.
“You look like you're about to come just from that.”
Izuku’s eyes blink open, and he manages to pout for a moment. “It’s because it’s Kacchan,” he says, almost making it sound like a complaint. “Don’t go easy on me,” he adds.
Any thoughts of going slow fade into oblivion. “Shitty Deku—” He pulls his hips back and thrusts forward. “When have I ever gone easy on you?” He establishes a rhythm that’s fast and rough, enough that the bed creaks (he briefly wonders if he’ll have to sue the hotel for investing in shitty furniture).
Izuku’s hands twist in the sheets by his head, perspiration beading on his forehead. His legs hook around Katsuki’s waist. “Kacchan, Kacchan—”
Katsuki braces his arm against the mattress beside Izuku’s head and leans over to kiss him. The kiss is sloppier than before, and a string of saliva connects them when they pull away.
Every inch of him tenses, and Katsuki curses at the sudden tightness. “If you use my name so suddenly…” Izuku starts, but the rest of his words get lost in a gasp of pleasure.
Katsuki smirks, kissing a line from his collarbone to the center of his chest, where he places his hand. Under his palm, he can feel the beat of Izuku’s heart. The rhythm unsteady but strong, and no faster than his own.
“Izuku,” he repeats, this time prepared for the reaction.
“Kacchan—” At first, Katsuki thinks he’s about to complain, but— “Kacchan, I’m close,” he breathes, hands reaching up to draw his lover to him.
“Yeah,” Katsuki hesitates, feeling the heat rising within his body. He thrusts, and every inch that’s inside Izuku throbs. “Me too,” he admits. A few seconds later, he comes with Izuku tensing around him.
Izuku looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips. His freckles stand out even against his flushed cheeks and his chest heaves with every breath. Katsuki starts to pull out, but Izuku’s legs tense, holding him in place.
“Stay like this a little longer,” Izuku requests.
Katsuki brushes a lock of hair away from Izuku’s forehead and rests his palm against his cheek. Izuku’s mouth curves into a smile, one of the brightest he’s seen. He thumbs over Izuku’s bottom lip and watches as he turns his head to kiss his palm.
Still leaning into his hand, Izuku looks up through his eyelashes, looking somehow shy.
“What?” Katsuki asks, when he grows impatient with the silent stare.
“I’m just—I still can’t believe you like me.”
“That’s not quite right.” Katsuki presses his lips to Izuku’s skin, muffling the rest of his words.
Izuku cautiously puts a hand under his chin and makes him raise his head. Katsuki’s face is redder than it has been all day.
“I didn’t catch that,” he says.
Katsuki leans into Izuku’s hand and directs his gaze anywhere but his face. “I said I love you,” he mumbles.
Izuku twitches around him, blinking in shock. He bites his lip, and Katsuki can’t help but follow the action with his eyes. “Kacchan, I don’t think I’m going to make it back to the conference after all,” he says, pulling Katsuki in for another kiss.
When they arrive at the closing banquet half an hour late, no one seems to notice. The news the next day, however, tells a different story.
“I think the whole world knows we slept together,” Izuku says with a sigh, placing his phone face down on the table.
“I’m still pissed they all think we just hooked up.”
Izuku stifles a laugh. “We’ll just have to show them differently.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, leaning toward Izuku and closing the distance between them with a kiss.