Archive of Our Own

Katsuki has a type. Admittedly, it’s not something he’s proud of. If only it could be as easy as I like brunettes or Give me a himbo with more muscles than brains, please or I have a thing for nerds who never shut up about their hobbies.

…That latter one might be somewhat true, but it hardly matters in the scheme of things. What does matter is that the number one thing Katsuki looks for—the trait that gets his dick hard immediately—is how straight a man is.

That’s right. Katsuki is a walking cliche: the gay guy chasing after a straight. Give him the same polo shirt in every color, give him socks and sandals worn together, give him merchandise with the hackneyed phrase “female body inspector” etched on the front… The straighter he is, the more Katsuki wants him.

There’s something about it. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase—getting in close, becoming best bros, and then seeing if Katsuki can cross that boundary and convince him to give up that dick. It’s a hard-fought battle, a race to the finish. And the ending where Katsuki’s new bestie is naked in his bed? His victory lap.

He’s going to feel so good when he finally pulls it off.

Okay, yes. He’s not been successful yet. But he’s only nineteen and that shit’s not easy! There’s a lot of finesse and patience involved in seducing a straight guy, and Katsuki’s lack of both qualities makes it that much harder. 

Not to mention, there’s a missing filter between his mouth and brain. It's really tough to start flirting when his opening pick-up line is “your dick looks good in those khaki shorts.”

…Which will make it taste all the sweeter when it finally happens! You know what they say—practice makes perfect, and Katsuki has just found his next target.

“Hey, man. You in there?”

Katsuki recognizes that Kirishima is talking to him, but only because he predictably calls his name two more times immediately.

“What?” he barks, keeping his gaze locked on the man across the floor in the skimpy gym shorts. Is he gay and trying to send a signal, or straight and feeling confident in his body? Either option is hot as hell but Katsuki would prefer the latter… especially when the hunk obliviously flashes his muscular thighs as he starts his next set of deadlifts.

“You’re staring at him again.”

Katsuki drags his gaze back to his workout partner. Kirishima is currently stretching out his forearms and grimacing like a wimp. “So what?”

“You said we were working out today,” Kirishima reminds him. He’s an over-friendly sort of guy, the kind that dismisses his negative feelings like waving away a cloud of smoke. They’re close enough that Katsuki can hear the annoyance hidden in his tone anyway.

“We are working out.” Katsuki grabs the set of dumbbells he’s been using and starts curling. A set of 45’s today, so the next thing he says comes out strained. “Pick up the damn weights already.”

“Sure thing, bud.” Kirishima stands beside him. They’re both facing the mirror so when Kirishima nods towards it, Katsuki can clearly see the action. “Just so you know, this thing works both ways.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. The full-length mirror is supposed to be for observing his form, making sure he doesn’t slouch or use his legs to help kick up the heavy weight he’s throwing around. But apparently Kirishima has noticed that he’s using it for something else.

So what if he positioned himself so he can eye fuck that hot piece of ass currently deadlifting? He’s not hurting anyone.

“I know how mirrors work,” he grunts. He’s reached the twelfth rep and the shakes are setting in. His biceps scream at him as he pushes through it. Time to embrace their college motto and go ‘Plus Ultra’.

“So you know that he can see you, too? That he’s been checking you out this whole time?”

Katsuki drops his weights immediately. It’s two less reps than the last set, which should irritate him. Instead, he’s whipping towards Kirishima, asking urgently, “He has?”

Kirishima takes his sweet ass time finishing his set, and then places his dumbbells properly on the floor. “Yeah, bro. Maybe you could like, I don’t know, try talking to him?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, watching the lean, muscular guy across the weight room and contemplating. Eye Candy is banging out the last of his deadlifts, which is a fucking sight. Even as far away as Katsuki is, he can see that those gym shorts are barely holding on, stretching across that ass every time he bends over.

“You sure?”

Kirishima is drinking from the massive jug of water he’s been carrying around these days, so it takes him a second to respond. Katsuki crosses his arms and impatiently taps his bicep with his palm.

“What are you doing? Attempting to water that peanut brain of yours? Just answer already!”

Kirishima wipes his mouth and grins. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m sure. He’s been peeking over here whenever you grab new weights. And when you’re stretching. Pretty much whenever you’re looking away from him, which… isn’t that often.”

Katsuki ignores that little dig, just like he attempts to ignore the way his stomach flips at the idea that Green Eyes is stealing glances, too. “So I should talk to him,” he says. Then, because that sounded too weak, “I mean, I’m going to talk to him.”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!”

Katsuki reracks his dumbbells, feeling a bit light-headed as he does so. His nerves pluck up and mix with his workout high, causing his pulse to race. By the time he returns to Kirishima’s side, he’s feeling positively giddy with nervous energy. “What do I say?”

“I’ve got a good one for you actually. Heard it from Mineta, so don’t hold it against me.” Kirishima runs a hand through his red spikes, thinking hard for a moment. “Oh yeah! It goes ‘Are you using that adductor machine so you can crush me between your thighs later?’”

Katsuki glares daggers. “He’s not using a machine, dillweed.”

“How about, ‘Do you know karate? Cause your body is really kicking.”

“Have you really seen someone naked? Are you sure it was a human being and not a sex robot?” Katsuki questions, incredulous. Then, just because he’s curious, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Yes, yes and no. At least, I can’t remember.” Kirishima grins cheekily. “The lines don’t have to be great. In fact, the worse they are, the better. It’s an ice breaker; a way to get the conversation flowing. You can’t just go over there and say ‘hey’.”

“Fuck you, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Go for it!” Kirishima shoots him another cheesy grin before bending to retrieve his weights. Then, less audibly, “That, or stop slacking and do another set.”

Katsuki checks his appearance in the mirror. He’s glistening with sweat, but not in that disgusting, full body soak that comes with a strenuous cardio workout. Right now, his appearance is attractively disheveled—his skin is glowing and there’s a flush of pink to his cheeks. Good, he looks like he’s been freshly fucked. It’s important to plant the seed early, help his targets start thinking of him as someone they’d like to bend over, rather than befriend… or so he tells himself since he’s, you know, never technically succeeded.

He adjusts his black forehead band one last time before shooting Kirishima a cocky smirk. Confidence is everything. “Watch and learn, Shitty Hair.”

As he marches across the gym floor, he can feel the other’s eyes on him. He doesn’t need to turn and look over his shoulder to know that Kirishima is laughing and shaking his head. They’ve been best friends since their first year and Kirishima has seen this play out time and time again. 

Until now, it’s been all strikeouts. Katsuki is finally ready to break that streak. He’s hungry for his homerun.

He approaches the hottie across the gym floor with all the confidence he can muster. Once he’s within five feet of his target, his mouth goes dry. There’s a lot more he can see when there aren’t other students drifting into his line of sight; finer details that were lost in a wavy mirror and the fog of an adrenaline-fueled workout.

This gym rat is everything Katsuki dreams about. His body is lean and cut, and even though he’s got on a loose shirt, sweat has made it cling to his torso in all the right places. Katsuki can see his cut pecs, his flat abs… The flesh on full display is even better—the swell of his calf muscles and thighs alone make Katsuki want to pant like a dog in heat.

“Hey,” he starts, pitching his voice in a manner meant to draw attention. He’s got a smooth follow-up line at the ready—something much better than Kirishima’s dumbass suggestions—but as soon as the hottie turns, Katsuki’s tongue turns to rubber.

“Hi!”

There’s a lot to take in at once. The combination of dark, curly hair, cheeks dusted in freckles, and a pair of green doe-eyes all add up to what feels like a punch to his chest. Katsuki sways. It’s like the floor dissolves beneath his feet and he’s falling a long way down. Or more like, he’s falling into those pools of bright greens.

“Uhh…”

Hottie’s brows pinch together in an adorably puzzled expression. “Can I… help you?”

Katsuki wonders how someone can look so innocent and so damn sexy at the same time. He wants to simultaneously cuddle him and ride his face, and the two diametrically opposed desires make him squirm.

“I came over here—” Fuck. What was his opener again? Something about protein shakes? Or was it that he needed to borrow his wipe-down towel? Shit! “Because…”

He mentally scrambles to come up with something clever. Or funny. Or direct—wait no, not direct. Direct has never worked before! 

All the while, Kirishima’s voice haunts him, whispering, You can’t just go over there and say ‘hey’. 

You can’t just go over there and say ‘hey’.

Horny idiot, you can’t just go over there and say ‘hey’, so what the fuck are you going to do?!

“Because...?”

“Because.” Hottie’s smoking body has caused Katsuki’s brain cells to stop firing. So he has no choice but to rely on his old tried and true method: insults. “Because your form is terrible and I had to say something.”

Hottie reels. Katsuki winces. He’s blown it already, hasn’t he? Just opened his big fucking mouth and jammed his foot right in there. No one likes being called out and gym rats aren’t known for taking unsolicited criticism well. That’s because—like most people—they just want to be left the hell alone so they can do what they like in peace. 

Katsuki just ruined that peace for this Apollo of the Free Weights.

 “Wow.” Hottie looks taken aback, but then a glorious thing happens—a sheepish smile dawns on his lips. “I’m pretty new to this, actually. Thank you for letting me know.”

Could have fooled him. Hottie’s body looks like it’s been carved from marble; like he’s been bulking and shredding for years; like he eats whey protein for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“Yeah. No prob.” Katsuki crosses his arms over his chests and puts on his most confident expression. “Need a spot? I don’t mind.”

“Oh… yeah! That sounds great! I’m getting ready to start my next exercise and I could definitely use one.”

“Cool.” Katsuki helps him take off the plates and watches as he shifts the bar to shoulder level, setting it on the stand in front of him.

Squats, squats, he’s doing squats! his brain cheers gleefully. He’s practically quivering in excitement as he assists Hottie put most of the plates back on. Holy fuck, this is a lot.

Hottie arranges himself properly so the bar sits on his shoulders. He spreads his feet, the muscles in his legs flexing. When he turns to meet his eyes, a shiver rolls down Katsuki’s spine. 

“Ready?”

Katsuki’s mouth is completely dry as he takes his place behind him. It’s a miracle he manages to squeak out a “yes”, especially as his hands settle on Hottie’s obliques. They ripple beneath his fingers and he feels like he’s about to get away with something he shouldn’t.

“Here we go.” When Hottie takes a deep breath, Katsuki finds himself holding his own as well.

Then, they’re off.

The workout that follows is intense, and not just because Katsuki is sitting in the front row, playing witness as Hottie’s designated spotter. That’s how it starts, but after helping him through two sets, Katsuki decides he wants a piece of his action, too.

Yeah, it’s supposed to be ‘arm day’... But he abandoned Kirishima and his bicep curls the moment Hottie flashed him a dimpled smile. Suddenly, today’s workout is all about legs. That, and Katsuki doling out tips like he was born and raised inside a dank, musty gym.

“Lower!”

“Keep your back straight!”

“C’mon, you can do one more rep!”

Like a peacock, Katsuki is strutting around the place and showing off his knowledge, hoping to impress. And boy, does it. Hottie is the perfect match for him—he nods enthusiastically to Katsuki’s corrections, concentrates as Katsuki gives detailed explanations of how each exercise is supposed to go, and gawps in rapt awe as Katsuki demonstrates them. 

Not only is this guy insanely hot, he’s an eager listener as well. Katsuki loves basking in the attention, especially when Hottie turns the conversation away from exercise. While they’re resting between sets, he asks about everything from school to sports to hobbies.

Katsuki quickly learns that they have a ton in common. Same major, same post-graduate aspirations, same gripes about campus life.

It’s probably the best first date Katsuki has ever been on. He’s sad when it finally comes to a close several hours later. Frustrated, too, because now he has to scramble to come up with an excuse for them to meet again.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m worn out. One of the best workouts I’ve ever had,” Hottie tells him as they pass through the front entrance of the gym. 

“Yeah, me too. Thanks.”

Think of something you idiot!!

Katsuki’s stomach swims as Hottie slows down once they’re outside. Does he also not want to leave right away, or is he preparing to give an awkward goodbye? Katsuki doesn’t know, but he’s also not a fan of waiting around to find out.

“Well, see you—”

“Can I have your number?” Hottie asks, effectively killing off the rest of Katsuki’s weak-ass goodbye. “I’d love to do that again, if you have time in your schedule.”

Katsuki nods and digs around in his gym bag until he finds his phone. Internally, he’s whooping in joy. “’Course I have time. We’re students.” He says that like he doesn’t fill every available hour with studying. Whatever. He can definitely give up a few of those hours for someone this sexy.

“Great!” Hottie beams at him as they exchange numbers. “How does the day after tomorrow sound?”

Katsuki ignores the dull ache in his calves. “Perfect. We can do chest and tri’s. This time of day is good for me.” It’s not a question, more of a demand.

Hottie nods. “Works for me, too! How much do I owe you?”

“Owe? For what?”

“For signing on as your client,” Hottie replies breezily, like it’s not the weirdest thing Katsuki has heard all day. “You’re one of the best trainers I’ve ever had!”

Are they still speaking the same language, or did Katsuki black out during their last exercise? Did he say trainer? As in, personal trainer— one of those fitness pros that charge people to show them how to workout properly?

“Actually, you’re the first trainer I’ve worked with!” Hottie laughs nervously. “Not sure why I just said that. But it was still the best workout I’ve had in a long time. To be honest, I didn’t even know that students could work as trainers for a part time job. But I guess they’re manning the front desk and there’s the students who work in the mail room, so—”

Katsuki blinks, dumbfounded. Partially because of the onslaught of words, but mostly because reality has just slapped him across the face. This whole time, Hottie thought he was a personal trainer, giving him a session. Shit.

“—Oh my God, you have that blank look on your face. Did I talk too much again? I do that sometimes. My friends usually tell me when I do but they’re not here. Anyway! I definitely would love to hire you. Or meet up again if you’re not taking new clients; just for a regular workout, without any tips or advice.” Hottie holds up his thumb and fingers to his mouth, pretending to zip it closed. “Okay, shutting up. Done now.”

Katsuki can’t help but like him even more.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take you on.” He shrugs, hiding his grin behind a cool facade. “And don’t worry about money. It’ll come out with your next school payment.”

The lies slip out easily. His heart thunders in his chest as though he’s afraid Hottie will be able to see right through him.

“Awesome! By the way, what’s your name? I don’t think I got it.” Hottie taps his screen so it lights up again, and Katsuki realizes he’s still inputting his contact information.

“Katsuki. What’s yours?”

“Izuku.” Hottie—Izuku—smiles at him and the wriggle in his gut immediately dissipates. “Nice to meet you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki is so smitten that he doesn’t even correct the butchering of his name. He also fails to mention that he is not in fact a trainer, even as they finally say goodbye and head off their separate ways. He doesn’t even think about how he trapped himself in a corner, and he’ll have to pretend to be a personal trainer from here on out.

And that’s because the only thing in his head is a face full of freckles and a set of sparkling green eyes.

He’s completely fucked.

Kirishima laughs for fifteen straight minutes after Katsuki tells him what happened. He does not offer any helpful advice, either.

Asshole.

Their second “training” session goes okay. Katsuki is weirdly nervous the entire time, waiting for Izuku to suddenly figure him out. Maybe he’ll catch on if Katsuki struggles to execute a perfect bench press or can’t isolate his triceps like some kind of loser.

Neither of those things happen of course, but that doesn’t stop Katsuki from remaining coiled tight the entire time, waiting for Izuku to stand up and shout “I knew it! You’re a phony! A big fake! And this is all a ruse to fuck me!”

It makes for a tense workout. At least, it does for Katsuki. Thankfully, Izuku doesn’t seem to pick up on it, and about halfway through Katsuki is able to bury his anxieties down deep where they belong. The workout becomes much more enjoyable after that. He even makes a stab at small talk, which melts whatever strain is still left.

Maybe, as long as he remains calm, he can pull this off.

The third training session is shorter—there are only so many exercises that target back muscles—but even better than the other two. Izuku seems to have fully bought into Katsuki’s little lie, opening up to him like a book whose pages are eager to be read.

Izuku, it turns out, is a giant nerd. He has a library’s worth of knowledge when it comes to comic books and superhero movies, which he’s more than eager to share with Katsuki as they move into cardio, taking to the short track that runs around the perimeter of the second floor. Izuku spills all at the slightest hint of interest. He likes old anime, new video games and claims to have a figurine collection that fights for space on his desk. 

Under normal circumstances—ones where he wasn’t trying to find his way into Izuku’s pants—Katsuki might consider making fun of him. Instead, he finds himself hanging onto his every word and staring at the little dimple that appears whenever he smiles.

He’s got it bad. Though, despite the crush that’s growing by the second, Katsuki thinks he’s doing a decent job of befriending Izuku. He’s not biting off his head, he’s listening, he’s not letting on that he wants to drop to his knees and suck his dick right there on the track… All good things.

The plan is going well. Step one: befriend? Complete.

Kirishima is less than impressed. “I thought you hated lying.”

“I’m not lying, Shitty Hair!” Katsuki defends himself vehemently, thrusting his expensive whey protein shake at him in an accusing manner. “Izuku assumed I was a trainer. I just didn’t correct him.”

“So, lying.”

“Fuck you. It’s different.” Katsuki grimaces as he takes a sip. He’s intensified his already strict diet recently. If he wants to appear to be a personal trainer, he can’t be consuming junk… even though this shake tastes like peanut butter rolled in sand.

“Is it?”

Katsuki shoots him a glare that he hopes can melt that stupid ass look off his face. “What does it matter? After we fuck, it’s not like I’m sticking around.”

“...Right.” Kirishima shoots him that nauseating knowing look, but wisely chooses not to elaborate. Good. “Did you at least find out if he’s straight or not?”

Katsuki freezes mid-sip. He did not.

“Probably should do that.”

Kirishima’s status as an asshole remains firmly in place.

Finding out someone’s sexual preferences isn’t as easy as it looks, especially without hunting down their dating profile. Katsuki tries to do that of course… not that it pans out. Izuku doesn’t seem to have one, and Katsuki can’t ask why because then he’d be admitting to looking him up in the first place. As far as he knows, straight dudes don’t swipe right on their bros.

There’s also the old-fashioned method—interpreting social cues. Does Izuku hold his gaze a bit too long? Does he laugh harder than he should at one of Katsuki’s dry comments? Does he seek out physical contact at every opportunity? 

Katsuki has always been shit at reading these types of signals, but Izuku makes it even harder. He’s so goddamn eager to please and sweet. Katsuki is convinced he treats everyone this way. Plus there’s no helping the physical contact when they have to spot each other constantly. So it’s really hard to tell when Izuku bumps shoulders with him or asks Katsuki to correct his body position.

That is until Katsuki catches onto what’s happening during workout session number four.

Izuku is a bit of a twitchy guy. He gets embarrassed easily, flails around a lot, so Katsuki almost doesn’t notice at first. He assumes the fiddling with his waistband is a nervous tic or some shit. But when Katsuki braces Izuku’s feet while the latter knocks out some sit-ups, he finally spies the real reason for the near-constant adjustment of his shorts.

Izuku’s muscles aren’t the only thing swelling. He is rocking a massive hard-on, too.

It’s difficult to ignore when it’s close to him, filling out the front of Izuku’s shorts so nicely. It’s definitely not what he’s expecting. The scenario causes Katsuki’s brain to malfunction for the next few hours, and then sends it into a scramble as he tries to come up with reasons why it was there at all.

As far as he knows, straight guys don’t pop boners when their gym buddies are touching them.

Maybe Izuku spotted a hot girl running naked on the treadmill. Maybe the music pumping through his ear buds was really just his favorite hetero porn on repeat. Maybe… Maybe Katsuki can’t think of anything! It’s too fucking unprecedented!

Doesn’t help that he spies it the next training session, too. And the one after that. Like clockwork, a few minutes after the workout begins, Izuku’s cock starts to bulge.

Why?

He can’t figure it out, but he will get to the bottom of it. Eventually. Part of him wants to ask during some random set, “hey man, what’s up with that penis?”

…For now, he pretends not to see it, though it’s extremely difficult. Katsuki might not have seen it fully, but he can tell that what’s between Izuku’s legs is worthy of his attention. 

Katsuki would do more than just look at it, too—if only he can stop being a chicken shit and actually do something about it.

“How’s it going with your green-haired beefcake?” Kirishima asks, two weeks after the fake training sessions begin.

Katsuki considers telling him about the strange, new development. But then he thinks about all the times he’s failed to seduce a straight guy in the past and changes his mind. Telling Kirishima is like begging for a headache—his best friend is only going to laugh at him. And he can already tell based on Kirishima’s barely-interested tone that he doesn’t think he’ll pull it off anyway. 

Katsuki can’t wait to prove him wrong.

“None of your business,” he snaps.

“Badly then.” Kirishima nods, his expression softening to one of sympathy. “It’s okay, man. There’s always next time!”

Katsuki glares daggers at him.

Fuck next time. It’s happening now.

Planning on making a move and actually making said move… Turns out, they’re two entirely different animals. It’s easy to be brave in his own head, but all of that courage burns away when Izuku’s goofy smile lights up his face and when he turns those soft, green eyes on him.

Shit. It’s like trying to fuck Bambi. Katsuki feels like a real sleazeball when he eyeballs that hard cock through his shorts or imagines what it might be like to run his tongue along that crease of his thigh. Doesn’t stop him from doing it, of course.

But he does feel a little guilty when he jerks off at night, dreaming about those thick fingers wrapped around something other than a dumbbell.

He makes a major breakthrough a few sessions later. After finishing up a particularly grueling leg workout, Katsuki calls it quits early. Midterms are here and he has an afternoon study session he’s got to make it to. So he leaves Izuku to finish up on his own, quickly cleans up, and runs off to meet his friends.

Except, he makes it halfway across campus before he realizes he left his gym bag behind, phone and textbooks included.

So he races back, cursing under his breath the entire time. At least his stuff is secure, tucked in with Izuku’s in the only available locker they could find. If only he could remember the damn combo… Oh well, just another quick detour to find Izuku and then he can be off again, only a few minutes late.

Except he can’t find Izuku. He’s not over by the leg press or by the squat machine. Not hanging out near the free weights, either. Katsuki even scans the treadmill and ellipticals, assuming he’s trying to round out his workout with some cardio. Nothing. It’s almost like Izuku left at the same time that he did, which is weird because Katsuki quit early.

Is that bastard cutting his workout short? Katsuki is incensed. He rattled off a list of exercises for Izuku to complete before he left and unless he can bend space-time, Izuku should still be knocking them out. 

Okay, Katsuki might not be his actual trainer, but Izuku doesn’t know that. The sheer balls on this guy! Outrageous!

Katsuki storms into the locker room, determined to kick open his locker, retrieve his phone and rip Izuku a new asshole through a series of scathing texts.

He finds he doesn’t have to do any of that. First, because Izuku has left the combination lock hanging open. Second, because his bag isn’t there—the locker has been cleaned out. 

And third, because he can hear Izuku humming from one of the shower stalls around the corner. 

At least Katsuki can streamline chewing his ass out.

As he approaches, the humming fades and Katsuki catches something just loud enough to hear over the streaming water. A muted gasp, morphing into a long, contented sigh.

Katsuki knows that sound. He makes it almost every time he touches himself. It hits him like a lightning bolt, makes him stand up straighter. But Izuku isn’t… he wouldn’t… not in a public place like this, would he?

Katsuki glances around. Not a soul in sight. No one really uses these showers, not when there are more private ones located in the dorms. Plus the gym is pretty empty at this time of the day—most students hit it up in the late afternoon or at night, when classes are over.

Hesitating, Izuku bites down on the urge to call Izuku’s name. He just… wants to confirm that Izuku is doing whatever he’s doing. Katsuki wouldn’t. Not with the smell of sweaty gym socks hanging so thickly in the air. No way in hell. So he’s having a tough time picturing Izuku rubbing one out.

Then again, Izuku has been rock-hard at the end of every workout. He can’t walk around on campus with a dangerous weapon like that in his pants, ready to explode if someone looks at him the right way. So maybe he is spanking it, just to relieve some of the pressure.

Fuck me, I hope that’s what he’s doing in there. Katsuki licks his lips and slides a little closer. He almost feels guilty about eavesdropping… until he hears a low moan and that familiar rhythmic squelch.

Izuku is definitely jerking off.

Katsuki freezes. He’s out in the open right now, halfway between the entrance to the shower area and the small fleet of stalls. There’s only a curtain between him and Izuku, and the steady pattering of water on tiles covering up any sounds his entrance might have made. He should leave. He knows that. It’s time to turn tail and head back to his dorm, leaving his phone and all of his belongings behind. Fuck studying.

It’d be the right thing to do.

Except… Katsuki has always been a spontaneous person, the type of guy to set his sights on something and relentlessly pursue it. He’s also young and horny, pent up after weeks of hanging around his newest obsession, slobbering over his lean, muscled frame and dreaming about riding that dick. Who can blame him for sticking around?

So he does make the stupid choice and slides into a shower. It’s far enough away that Izuku won’t notice him, but close enough that he can listen in like the pervert he is. As soon as he’s inside, Katsuki holds his breath, trying to hear what’s happening two stalls down.

He’s rewarded for his bad behavior immediately. Izuku—in that sweet, nerdy voice that’s usually complimenting his form or encouraging him as Katsuki reaches burnout—swears softly under his breath.

That quiet “fuck” is what does Katsuki in. He still sounds hesitant when he says it, but Katsuki can see the cracks forming. Izuku, losing control of himself, coming out of his introverted shell. Katsuki wants to see it so badly it’s making him itch. But all he can do is picture what’s happening—Is Izuku biting his lip and trying to hold back more curse words? Are his cheeks stained red? Does he have a hand braced on the wall right now? Is he leaning into it, holding himself up while he fucks into the other one?

Katsuki reaches to his own eager cock, squeezing it through his shorts. He wants to join in, wants to slick himself up and come listening to the sounds of Izuku pleasuring himself. But he shouldn’t. He’ll get caught for sure.

He drops his shorts and boxers anyway, cursing in his head as he silently spits into his palm. He’ll just have to be extra quiet.

So he spends the next few minutes listening intently and trying to match Izuku’s speed. He’s close to coming immediately—the secrecy, the danger of getting caught, the quiet sounds Izuku is making, echoing all around him… Katsuki is so turned on, precum is oozing from his tip, drooling all over his palm. He has to slow down and catch his breath twice, trying to time his orgasm to the moment right before Izuku’s, when the other will be too far gone to pay attention to any quiet gasps he might let out.

He waits until the squelching becomes frantic, stifling his own groan in his arm as he shoots cum all over the shower floor. He’s panting heavily as he hears Izuku do the same. Then, before he can enjoy that post-orgasm haze, Katsuki is tugging his shorts back up and darting out of the stall, shame licking at his heels.

Beating a hasty retreat, Katsuki snatches his bag off the bench and makes for the exit. He jerks to a stop when the contents of his bag shift dangerously, threatening to spill on the floor. Fumbling with the zipper, he tries to force it closed before Izuku cuts off the water and detects someone in the locker room with him. That’s when Katsuki notices something.

The mixture of sandalwood, black pepper, and citrus body wash scenting the air doesn’t belong to Izuku. Nor does the liquid soap currently dripping off of his flagging erection, swirling down the drain.

It’s Katsuki’s.

As if to prove it, the pouch where Katsuki normally stows it in his bag yawns at him, dark and empty. He finally zips the bag shut, though he can’t blink that image from his eyes. 

Izuku stole his body wash. Not only that, but he’d used it to jerk off.

What the hell is Katsuki supposed to make of that?

Katsuki can’t even look at Kirishima later. He definitely can’t tell him what happened, though he feels the words roiling inside, threatening to burst out of his mouth at any moment. He barely manages to swallow them down. Mostly because he knows that however the conversation might start, it’s going to end with him confessing to his sinful behavior. 

And if Kirishima finds out that he listened in on Izuku, he’ll never hear the end of it.

He doesn’t need Kirishima right now, anyway. After the regret fades and logic prevails, Katsuki reaches a conclusion—

Izuku is getting a boner every time they work out together. He’s spanking it in the shower afterwards, and he’s using Katsuki’s shower gel to do it. Either this dude is gay and very good at hiding it or he’s a straight dude with a thing for aggressive, mouthy blondes.

Either way, Katsuki doesn’t care anymore. He’s finally ready.

He can’t wait too long or he’ll lose his nerve for sure. So the next day, Katsuki preps himself before their gym session, trying to imagine all possible scenarios. For once, he’s happy that it’s midterm week. The gym is virtually empty, with only the most hardcore fitness junkies taking advantage of it in the morning hours.

Katsuki arranges their next session for the evening, when not even the staff are present. After carding in, he waits for Izuku in the lobby, foot tapping a nervous rhythm on the concrete floor. This is it. Tonight is the night.

Izuku is on time of course, arriving right at eight. He’s wearing that slightly delirious look that all students have on during exam week, but his cheeks are rosy and there aren’t any circles under his eyes. So he’s taking care of himself, somewhat.

Katsuki’s heart skips a beat when his eyes land on him, lighting up when they recognize him. “Kacchan! You’re here already!”

He has to unstick his tongue before he can respond. “Yeah. Thanks for meeting me so late. Wanted to blow off some steam.”

“No problem! Working out always clears my head, too.”

Katsuki wonders if rubbing one out afterwards might also help. Nothing more relaxing than that flood of endorphins after exercising his body fully… Nothing, except fucking for real. Which, if Katsuki plays his cards right…

“Let’s do something light tonight,” he says, swiping his student I.D. at the front desk. He can feel his mouth set into a firm line as he fully commits to his plan. He’s baited and set his snare, now he just needs to wait for the right moment to capture Izuku.

As Izuku swipes in behind him, Katsuki glances around and takes account of the security cameras mounted in the corners of the room. Even though they have the whole gym to themselves, someone is always recording, always watching.

Except in the locker room, of course.

First, I need to lure him there.

“We did legs yesterday, so how about arms today?” he asks, voice cracking slightly, the nerves starting to show through his thin veneer.

Izuku nods enthusiastically, bumping shoulders with him as he hurries to walk beside him. It sends a curl askew, the dark lock bouncing in front of his eyes. Katsuki is tempted to brush it back in place, but manages to keep his arms by his side. It’s a ridiculously close call.

“Sounds good to me, Kacchan!”

They drop their bags off in the locker room, choosing to share a locker though all the rest are free. Katsuki notices but doesn’t say anything. If Izuku mentions it, he’ll just say his brain had gone onto autopilot or something. He can’t tell for sure—damn the crappy, austere lighting—but Izuku’s face seemed to go a bit red. 

In the end, neither of them say anything, and then they’re off to the gym floor.

It’s weird working out with just the two of them. Usually there’s some buzz in the background: other students getting their pump on, chatting it up, or snapping selfies for their social media that they can brand with #goals. There aren’t any televisions blaring tonight or radio blasting songs through the loudspeakers. It’s so quiet that Katsuki can hear his own breath dragging in his ears, his own heart pounding erratically in his chest.

“It’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” Izuku observes as he starts his stretches. “Kinda feels like we’re about to get murdered.”

Not the mood we’re going for. Katsuki grimaces. “Not bad in here. Less distractions.”

“Not for me. You’re still here,” Izuku tells him plainly. A second passes and his eyes go wide. “What I mean is that it wouldn’t matter if the gym was crowded or not! Because you’re my trainer and I’m focused completely on you whenever we work out.”

Katsuki’s brows go up. Teasing Izuku has easily become one of his favorite pastimes and he was just handed a chance on a silver platter. “Only got eyes for me?” he asks, lowering his voice an octave and allowing a smirk to play on his lips. 

Predictably, Izuku’s ears start to burn red. “For your body. I m-mean your form. When you do exercises. You’re very good at them. You have a flexible… waist.” From the miserable expression gripping Izuku’s face, he’s completely lost control of his mouth.

A perfect time to strike. Just as Katsuki has been doing most gym sessions—he takes a moment to flirt.

“That so? You like watching me get all sweaty?” Katsuki might as well whip out a bullhorn and shout: ‘I’m gay and I want a one-way ticket to pound town, please.’ Subtlety has never been his forte. Fortunately, most of the straight dudes he tries his flirting on don’t get offended. They usually assume he’s joking, maybe flirt back a little until whoopsie they finally realize that Katsuki is serious. That’s when they typically make a break for it.

Izuku is odd. Whenever Katsuki starts messing with him, he gets extremely flustered. Before, it confused him—was Izuku into him or was he just an introvert who acted this way with everyone? Now, he knows exactly why Izuku is so twitchy around him, and it causes excitement to spring to life in his gut.

As the flush spreads to Izuku’s cheeks and neck, Katsuki can’t contain it any longer, letting out a howl of laughter. 

“Kacchan…” Izuku whines.

“Alright, fine. We’re doing negatives today.” He plants himself directly in front of Izuku, hands on his hips. “Don’t let my beautiful form go to your head.”

“Meanie.” Izuku pouts as he loads up his barbell. Then they’re too busy as Katsuki helps him lift the extra heavy bar, Izuku lowering it on his own. 

Katsuki enjoys these types of exercises, the ones that let him spot up close. Though his favorite so far has been when he’s bench pressing and Izuku spots him. The position brings his face oh-so-close to that ridiculous cock Izuku is packing. 

There’s no time for benchwork tonight—in fact, Katsuki is determined to finish up this workout as quickly as he can so they can move onto bigger and better things.

He waits to make his move until they’re on the third exercise. This is usually when the phenomena with Izuku occurs. And right on time, it happens. As they start tricep kickbacks, Izuku squeezes his legs shut in an unnatural manner. Then, as he straightens up, he tugs at his waistband. Once they finish a set, he turns his back to Katsuki for a minute, feigning at stretching and then quickly adjusting himself.

“It’s time,” Katsuki murmurs.

“Hm? What’d you say?”

Katsuki smoothly covers his tracks. “It’s time to call it. I’ve got a paper to write.”

“Oh.” Disappointment furrows Izuku’s brow. “Such a short session.”

Katsuki shrugs and puts up his weights. “Let’s shower and head out.”

“Okay.” Izuku jumps up to help put the weights away. Katsuki has to hide his devious grin.

His confidence feels a bit more shaky as they stroll towards the locker room. The moment he’s been aiming for has finally arrived, and even though he’s ninety percent certain that this is a sure thing—that Izuku is totally into him and he’s just going to seal the deal—it still feels a bit intimidating.

Obviously the nerd isn’t going to make the first move. Which means it’s all on Katsuki.

As he follows Izuku through the door and into the only part of the building where they can’t be picked up on camera, Katsuki stares at the back of that curly head of hair. He’s leered at those locks during their workout sessions many times—imagining how they might feel, picturing his fingers running through them, wondering what sort of sounds Izuku might make when he yanks them.

He pauses after moving through the door, quietly pressing it shut behind him and turning the lock.

Katsuki is tired of using his imagination. It’s time for the real thing.

Heart pounding a staccato rhythm in his ears, he sidles up to Izuku, who has just finished pulling off his shirt. His thick, smooth chest is on full display and all Katsuki can do is steal a glance out of the corner of his eye as he shucks off his own sleeveless tee. He’s too nervous to try much else.

“It was a good workout,” Izuku says conversationally.

“Uh-huh.” Katsuki is distracted, gaze drifting down to Izuku’s waist. He’s waiting for the moment that Izuku tugs down his shorts.

“Sucks that you have a paper due tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Annoyingly, Izuku is now removing his shoes and socks, changing out his footgear for a pair of sandals. The muscles of his calves and thighs flex as he does so, dimpling enticingly.

“What time are your exams? We can try again after you’re done.”

“When?” Katsuki asks, struggling with his own shoes. His hands are damn sweaty. This is taking too long. Why is Izuku stripping so slowly?

“Tomorrow,” Izuku answers, pausing. “Kacchan, is everything alright?”

“Just fine.” He practically throws his shoes back in the locker. Frustratingly, Izuku is still in his shorts and his plan can’t work until he’s completely naked. Or at least down to his boxers. Anything that makes it impossible to hide his erection. Then Katsuki can accidentally catch an eyeful of his stiff cock and effortlessly transition into the next step of the plan.

“You seem a little on edge.” He reaches for his waistband… and then passes it by, grabbing his towel.

“For fuck’s sake.” Katsuki grits his teeth. His plan is starting to unravel. He’s supposed to be suave, gesturing to Izuku’s hard on and flirtatiously asking if he could use a little help. Then Izuku gives into the temptation, finally allowing his repressed feelings to surface and sweep him off his feet… right into Katsuki’s waiting arms.

It all hinges on how smooth Katsuki can be. How he can ease Izuku’s worries and get him past a lifetime of hang-ups, if only for a night. But all he’s feeling right now is tension rising inside. It’s a tight ball that lodges in his throat, making it difficult to breathe, flexing and growing with each passing second.

The longer this goes on, the more likely Katsuki is going to do something drastic.

And Izuku seems determined to drag it out. Carefree, he grabs his shower caddy and casually loads it with his hygiene items. “Are you sure? I’ve never seen you look so…”

“M’fine,” he mumbles, crouching to dig in his bag for his own towel.

“Okay, if you say so.”

With nothing left to do except undress, Izuku’s hands drift towards the knot holding his gym shorts up. Katsuki freezes, then digs past the towel in his bag, pretending to look for something else so that he can stay in this position just a smidge longer. The angle is better, the view undeniable.

This is it, he tells himself, nerves dancing in his gut. Izuku, oblivious to the cold thrill shivering down Katsuki’s spine, picks at the knot, working it free and allowing the laces to fall to the sides. 

Katsuki draws in a breath and holds it.

Then Izuku snaps up his towel and grabs his caddy. “Well, see you in there.” It sounds more like a question than anything, and his face lights up like a stoplight when he says it, but Katsuki doesn’t give a fuck because he’s starting to walk away and his damn shorts are still on.

He can’t take it anymore. Not the sight of those muscled thighs covered up or that freckled back drifting away from him. He can stomach neither of those, but especially the feeling that his window of opportunity is shrinking.

If he doesn’t do something right now, then it’s not going to fucking happen.  

So he lets his instincts take over, blurting “What’s with the boner?”

Izuku stops, one foot slamming down hard as he catches himself mid-step. The slap of his sandal on the floor seems to echo in the small, empty room. 

Katsuki stares unblinkingly at his back until the corners of his vision flash red. The silence is thick and heavy, and even breathing too loudly feels like a crime.

Then Izuku turns to look over his shoulder, flashing a sheepish grin. It’s not in sync with the size of his eyes, which have gone as wide as dinner plates. “O-oh I-I-I… You can see it?”

“Hell fucking yeah I can see it. I’ve noticed it every time. That thing can cut diamonds, it’s so hard.” Katsuki’s hindbrain is fully in charge and his tongue is running wild as a result. He’s embarrassed by what he’s saying, cheeks heating up until he feels like he’s on fire, but that doesn’t slow him down for a second.

Izuku spins on his heel, face changing colors rapidly—paling, then purpling, then finally landing on a bright, cherry red. “Well I’m sorry I can’t keep it hidden like you do.”

Katsuki reels, mouth falling open. “The fuck you talking about?” He’s on his feet a moment later, arms defensively crossing over his chest.

“Yours is always… You can’t even tell… You hide it really well!”

Nothing Izuku is saying makes any sense. Katsuki can only blink at him, dumbfounded. “Hide what?”

“Your… Your hard on!” Izuku exclaims. “I try to keep mine from being noticed, too, but it’s not as easy as you make it look. I know working out means there’s no avoiding it, but it feels strange to not worry about it when I spent all of middle school trying to cover up the random ones that pop up unannounced, and it’s just—it’s weird! I’m sorry I’m not as confident as you or as cool or—”

Katsuki tunes out the rest of the babble, staring at Izuku’s moving mouth but not hearing the words tumbling from it. Like falling into quicksand, Katsuki is completely caught up in what he just heard, repeating it in his mind and trying to make heads or tails. And just like quicksand, he’s immediately overwhelmed.

“Did you just say…” he starts, talking over Izuku’s chatter. His interruption causes the other to fall silent, jaw clicking shut. Brow furrowing, Katsuki tries to form a coherent sentence again. “Wait. You think that’s normal? Do you get hard… just from working out?”

“Yeah, doesn’t everyone?” Izuku shrugs, a ghost of a smile tugging on mouth. He looks like he’s trying to share the joke, like Katsuki is just teasing him again. When he’s met with stunned silence, his face falls. “...Doesn’t everyone?”

Katsuki shakes his head profusely. “Fuck no.”

“What?” Izuku asks, desperation leaking into his tone. It switches to defensive immediately. “What are you talking about? Quit messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you,” Katsuki growls and why the fuck is he getting defensive with Izuku? He’s not the one whose face is draining of all color, or who looks like he swallowed a hard truth and is about to regurgitate it all over the floor.

Still, Katsuki is in his own world of hurt. He just realized that all those times Izuku got hard at the gym weren’t due to the proximity of his amazing, hunky blonde trainer. They were merely physiological, and Katsuki has read this entire situation all wrong.

Fuck.

“I need to get out of here!” Izuku cries, bolting for the door. He doesn’t pause to grab his things or murmur some excuse—he’s really about to run out of this gym, half-dressed in a pair of All Might-themed flip flops. It jolts Katsuki out of his mental fog. Before he realizes it, he’s stepping in front of him.

“Wait.”

“What for?!” Izuku exclaims. He’s beside himself. “I just realized that—this whole time I thought it was a natural thing, that everyone got them! Oh god… I’ve been working out since I was a teenager. How many people have seen me?!”

Didn’t he say he was new to this? Katsuki buries the accusation when he sees his face. Who cares if he was lying earlier. Izuku looks like he wants to die right now.

Katsuki reaches out, stopping just short of touching him.“It’s not that big of a deal,” he states lamely, trying for comfort.

“I’m a freak. A p-pervert!”

Katsuki can see the self-hatred and mortification burning in Izuku’s eyes. He hates it. That look doesn’t belong there, not on that innocent, sweet face. More than the discomfort that expression brings is Katsuki’s guilt. It weighs heavy on his conscience, pushing down on him until he feels about a foot tall. 

Wasn’t Katsuki in the shower yesterday, touching himself while eavesdropping on Izuku doing the same? Isn’t he a pervert, too?

And then Izuku is moving past him and Katsuki knows if he doesn’t say something, right now, he’ll never see him again.

“So what? I’m a liar,” Katsuki blurts, spinning on his heel. “I’m not a trainer! I’ve been fucking with you this entire time.”

Now it’s Izuku’s turn to stagger. His hand hangs in the air, pausing as it reaches for the door handle. Baffled, he ekes out a “wha?”

“That’s right. I fucking lied to you. You assumed I was a trainer and I let you believe it,” he spits out. He can’t believe he’s spilling his guts like this. “So there we go. You get excited as you work out, and I’m the asshole who took advantage of you. A fucking pair we make.”

At least if we never see each other again, I won’t have a guilty conscience, he reassures himself, though he has left off the part where he regularly jacked it, picturing Izuku. 

There’s only so much truth he’s willing to drop at once.

Izuku shakes his head like he’s trying to knock some sense into himself. “Why would you lie about that?”

His back is to Katsuki still, lines of tension in his shoulders and spine so intense that he almost looks like a statue standing there. It makes telling him possible.

“Because I’m gay. And I want to suck you off.”

Screw it. The situation is already completely fucked as it is. At least if he punches me, we’ll be even.

Katsuki wrinkles his nose and waits for the inevitable attack. He’s usually pretty bold and has gotten into a few heated arguments as a result. But he’s never dropped a bombshell on someone who’s already in emotional turmoil. Izuku is going to knock him on his ass for sure, any second now.

Except the second comes and goes. And a few more, where neither of them move.

“This is the part where you hurt me,” Katsuki tells him. Whether Izuku hits him because he’s gay—hazards of liking only straight dudes—or because he lied to him hardly matters. “You only get one free punch though, so… better use it wisely.”

Izuku finally turns to face him. His eyes are still wide but the color is back in his cheeks, burning hot. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Katsuki scoffs. “You too good for that?”

“No, I…” He rakes a hand through his hair, glancing down and then back up. Incredibly, he looks shy. “The… sucking thing is…”

“What about it?” It comes out like a challenge, even though that’s hardly the vibe he’s getting from Izuku.

“You… want to…”

“Suck your dick, yeah,” Katsuki finishes, a touch breathless. He’s not sure what’s happening anymore or where this is going. He just knows the potential for violence has been snuffed out and something else is brewing in its place.

Izuku’s gaze is glued off to the side, at a height around Katsuki’s loosely clenched fists. His eyes dart a couple times towards his face, but stop well short. “...like right now?”

It feels like all the blood rushes out of Katsuki’s brain, leaving him woozy and light-headed. “Whenever,” he mutters. “But also now. Now, too.”

“Okay,” Izuku agrees immediately. Then, right on the heels of the best thing Katsuki has heard all year, he adds in a strangely robotic voice, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—the situation is messing with my head. I’ll just… leave. Yep, that’s the best idea.”

“No!” Katsuki shouts, stepping towards him. “No. Stay. If you’re into it, then… Let’s do it. I’ll suck your dick. Right now.”

Nothing has gone according to plan. In fact, the plan shredded itself, threw the pieces away and lit the trashcan on fire, that’s how badly it went. But still, despite all of the fumbles and screw ups, Katsuki is about to get exactly what he’s always wanted—a chance to mess around with a straight guy. Even better, it’s Izuku. He just needs to jump on it quickly before the opportunity passes him by forever.

“Sit on the bench,” he instructs. He’s stunned when Izuku actually obeys, stumbling onto the hard surface. His legs fall open naturally, in the way that all guys tend to, and Katsuki can clearly see the outline of his straining cock, pressing against his shorts. He approaches carefully, standing between his thighs and looking down into Izuku’s wide eyes. “You sure about this?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” He sinks to his knees in one motion, bringing his face right up to Izuku’s crotch. Warmth emanates from the intimate region, intensifying when he lays a palms on one thigh and feels the muscles twitch in response. He wastes no time admiring Izuku’s size, squeezing his cock.

Izuku inhales sharply.

“Help me out here.” Katsuki tugs at his waistband for emphasis. Izuku practically leaps to respond, struggling to yank his shorts down. He gets both them and his boxers about halfway down his hips before Katsuki stops him. “Good enough.”

Izuku’s cock is free, flushed an angry red and already oozing at the tip. He’s been hard for a while now—about twenty minutes from when Katsuki spied it originally—and there’s a vein that throbs when Katsuki thumbs it. He’s as thick as Katsuki’s dreamed.

“Have you ever been with a guy before?” he asks, lowering his head until his breath passes over the tip.

“No,” Izuku answers quietly.

Perfect. This is so–he’s so goddamn perfect! Katsuki is practically drooling at this point, running his tongue over his lips like he’s about to dig in for a meal.

“Close your eyes, then. Makes it easier to pretend I’m a chick.” He manages to give the advice in a steady voice before he licks an experimental stripe along his length. 

It’s not in Katsuki to do things tentatively, and even this first touch is made with confidence. His tongue is wide and flat, moving with deliberate slowness from base to tip. He wants Izuku to know that he’s not playing around, that Katsuki knows exactly what he’s doing and Izuku is about to get the best head of his life.

Izuku groans when he flicks his tongue at the sensitive point right underneath the cockhead. He can feel the other’s shivers move through his body, starting in his chest and working down to where Katsuki is touching him.

Katsuki sneaks a glance at him long enough to see those green eyes squeeze shut. It’s a shame they won’t be taking in Katsuki’s performance. But that’s okay, too. Now Katsuki can ogle as much of Izuku as he wants to without either of them feeling awkward.

So he does exactly that, admiring those chiseled thighs that feel like warm marble under his hands, then sweeping his gaze up to take in those dreamy abs. After seeing glimpses of them during their workouts—Izuku typically uses the hem of his shirt to mop his brow, giving Katsuki a chance to ogle him, undetected—Katsuki is dying to touch them. He wants to run his fingers along them, feeling their grooves and playing with the dark thatch of hair trailing down from his navel. He doesn’t though, keeping his fingers still as his mouth goes to work.

He plays with the length for a bit, getting it nice and wet without actually taking it fully into his mouth. He flicks and flattens his tongue expertly, enjoying the way Izuku’s hands grip and loosen on the bench in sync with his touch. After a few minutes, he finally feels like he’s wound the other up enough based on the noises he’s choking on. And that’s when he takes him in fully.

“Oh my god…” Izuku gasps.

Katsuki hums around Izuku’s cock, fully in agreement as he nuzzles closer. His nose is buried into those wiry hairs, lips pressed flushed to his pelvis. He works hard not to gag, relaxing his throat as he bobs.

Izuku is not a tough customer. Katsuki is familiar enough with his own climaxes to sense when one’s coming. His breathing becomes heavier as Katsuki works his cock, head lolling back and forearms flexing as he throttles the bench in a deathgrip.

Katsuki doesn’t bother asking. He assumes he’s going to swallow when he feels Izuku’s length swell a little. He wants to see what Izuku looks like as he falls over the edge so he shifts, tilting his head up to watch.

Izuku’s half-lidded gaze meets his, just as he comes. It must have surprised him because his hips twitch violently, and his cock pops right out Katsuki’s mouth. The unfortunate result is that cum shoots all over Katsuki’s face.

“Oh, God! I’m sorry!”

Izuku starts to flail but Katsuki transitions flawlessly, pumping the rest out. Izuku lets out a shaky moan, hips twitching again when Katsuki lightly licks the tip of his head, cleaning him off.

“You shouldn’t have to…” Izuku stutters. “I didn’t mean to get your face all dirty. You surprised me!”

Yeah. You did, too. You were staring right at me.

“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it off in the shower,” he tells him. His heart pounds as he stands up, and now he’s the one awkwardly adjusting his hard on.

“O-okay!” Izuku squeaks, helping guide him to the shower. He has to squint to see through one eye since the other is… well, a little messy. He’s definitely grateful for those trembling hands helping him, even though he puts up a protest the whole time.

“I can do it! I’m not some little kid!” He does not pull away from Izuku though, kicking off his shorts and boxers by himself but allowing the other man to do everything else. Izuku flips on the shower, guiding Katsuki under the spray.

“Sorry again. You just are super good at that and you looked really…” Izuku trails off, voice lost in the stream of water.

“What? Sexy as fuck?” Katsuki prompts lightly, scrubbing his face clean.

He’s not expecting the answer he gets. “Yeah. You did.”

Turning, he opens his eyes and takes Izuku in fully. The other student is standing at the entrance of the cramped shower stall, halfway between leaving or joining Katsuki. The expression on his face is torn, several emotions seeming to grip it at the same time until he becomes virtually unreadable.

There is one easy sign that Katsuki picks up on immediately though.

“You’re still hard,” he observes casually. His own heart rate picks up speed again, desire pumping through his veins. “What a lousy job I must have done.”

“No, it’s… the opposite.” Izuku’s gaze shies away, the flush in his face spreading.

“Oh? So you wanna fuck me?”

Please say you want to fuck me.

“Um… yeah, I do.” He bites his lip, cautiously peering at him. “But how do two guys…?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.” Katsuki’s smirk is positively devilish. He did ‘prepare’ for this exact scenario before he left for the gym today. Even though it felt like taking a shot at the moon, Katsuki stretched himself open on a toy right before coming here.

“Get in here,” he tells Izuku, basking in how obediently he follows instruction. If Katsuki was being honest with himself, he could get off solely on bossing Izuku around. But there’s not much time to think about it because Izuku is squeezing to fit in and suddenly he’s chest to chest with the man he’s been crushing on for weeks.

“Should I clean myself up first?” Izuku asks.

Katsuki nods to where he can see Izuku stowed his shower caddy, just beyond the waterproof curtain shielding them from the rest of the world. “Go ahead and use my body wash. Since you have it and all.”

Izuku stammers a reply, clearly embarrassed. “I ran out and had to borrow it yesterday. I was going to tell you.”

“Sure you were.” Katsuki oh-so casually reaches to grab Izuku’s stiff cock. “Used it to take care of this, I’ll bet.”

…He’s probably going to hell. Whatever, if Katsuki can make him blush, it’ll be worth it.

“N-no!”

Katsuki smirks and gentles his touch, stroking a few times before pulling away. “Hurry and wash up. The hot water won’t last forever.”

While Izuku gets busy, Katsuki does the same, quickly scrubbing off a thin layer of sweat. Once he’s satisfied, he reaches around to test the region between his cheeks. His hole is wet and soft, the lubricant from earlier still present and making it easy to slip in two fingers.

“Good enough,” he declares after testing a third. Tight fit but he’s impatient and more than capable of adjusting to Izuku’s rod. Once he gets it in, that is. He eyes Izuku—or, more like the inch or so of space between them.

Not many positions we can pull off, he thinks with a frown. Izuku looks strong enough to hold him up. Maybe. Katsuki is almost all lean muscle himself, though, so he knows it won’t be a breeze. He contemplates for a minute before he finally settles on an idea.

Leaning his chest against the one wall, he braces his hands on either side to stabilize himself. The tiles haven’t been heated by the steam yet, so they’re cool and moist against his warm skin, causing a thrill to zip down his spine at the contact. His nipples pebble, his cock stiffening. He’s really about to do this.

At this angle, he has to bend his knees and jut out his ass, but his cleft finds Izuku’s stiff cock easily enough.

“Ready.” The word vibrates through him, low and husky.

It’s one thing to give a straight guy a blowjob—it counts, but means nothing to actual penetration. It’s like comparing the first place trophy from a regional competition to a gold medal at the Olympics.

Izuku could’ve pretended during the blowjob that Katsuki was someone else. Could have squeezed those eyes shut and pictured the hottest chick in the world with his cock in her mouth. But he can’t do that now. The shower stall is tight—there’s no denying the masculine scent swirling in the air or the feel of a muscled form squeezing around your cock.

Katsuki waits with bated breath. Is Izuku actually going to go through with this? Or is he about to chicken out?

He startles when he feels the light grip on his ass, Izuku spreading his cheeks. A finger dips down, rough pad rubbing over his entrance and holding there. It’s like Izuku is using it for a reference point because he only moves it after he guides his cock forward, nudging against his rim.

Katsuki wants to ask if he’s ever tried anal before, but he doesn’t like the thought of Izuku with anyone other than him. In fact, it doesn’t just make him uncomfortable. He’s downright jealous, the sensation tasting like acid on his tongue and a too-hot coil in his gut.

“Hurry,” he says instead, pushing back a little against that fat cockhead to speed things along. Thankfully, as soon as Izuku starts to press inside of him, all those intense thoughts fade away, and all he can think about is how big Izuku is and how good the stretch feels.

“Oh fuck,” Izuku murmurs and Katsuki’s chest swells with pride. He’s gotten Izuku to crack finally, to swear for real. And it’s not Katsuki’s skilled mouth or tongue that does it. It’s his tight, little ass.

“Mm, yes. Just like that,” Katsuki encourages. Izuku may or may not be familiar with anal, but he sure takes to it like a pro. He’s slow and steady, pausing to ensure that Katsuki adjusts with every inch. His hands settle on Katsuki’s hips and flutter there, almost as if he wants to touch him all over but doesn’t know if he has permission. So Katsuki grants it.

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

Izuku shudders behind him, cock sliding home.

“Does it feel good?” Izuku asks softly, rocking out and in an inch. “Or is it too deep?”

Katsuki tells him where to aim; what it takes to see sparks behind his eyelids. Katsuki can’t decide if he’d rather wear the title of sex ed teacher or sex god—either way, he’s molding his newest boytoy into the perfect partner and he feels utterly invincible.

“Deeper now. Try to aim the head along that wall every—ah!”

“I think I’m getting it!” Izuku exclaims excitedly, pounding Katsuki’s prostate three times in a row.

Katsuki can’t form a reply, his tongue far too loose. He makes an incoherent sound instead, relinquishing control as Izuku finds his rhythm. Absently, he reaches between his own legs and pumps his cock in time with Izuku’s thrusts.

“Fas’er…”

Izuku’s hips slap against his, the wet sounds of their coupling filling the tiny space. Katsuki is drunk on it—the gasps falling from his own lips, Izuku’s grunts as his pace becomes frantic, the twin sensation of warm water cascading down his back and cold tiles pressing into his chest. He’s lost in it. 

Mostly, he’s lost in Izuku. He surrounds Katsuki in every way possible, especially when he leans forward to bring them together, chest flush against Katsuki’s back. Izuku’s lips find his nape, planting a furious, wet kiss and Katsuki can’t take it anymore. He comes, moaning as his hips jerk and spasm, and feels Izuku do the same behind him, pumping him full.

Katsuki rides out the orgasm, continuing to touch himself long after the pleasure loses its sharp edge. Izuku seems loath to give up that feeling too, rocking in and out of him as he goes soft. 

“Was that good, Kacchan?” Izuku asks after a few minutes. Hesitantly, he reaches around Katsuki’s waist and brushes his flagging erection.

Katsuki nods wordlessly, allowing his own hand to drop as Izuku fondles him. He’s by no means an expert, and his fingers act like they’ve never held a dick in their lives, but Katsuki loves it anyway because he’s trying. For him.

In contented silence, they wash again, rinsing away the evidence of their activities until the water circling the drain runs clear. As they exit the shower and pull on their non-gym clothes, they’re just two normal dudes again—freshly clean but weary, bodies exhausted from a tough workout. If anyone spotted them right now, there’d be no proof that they’d done anything beyond that. No proof except the throbbing in Katsuki’s lower back and the furtive glances they sneak as they finally leave the locker room.

Izuku follows Katsuki toward the exit, his presence a lead weight at his back. Katsuki has made all the moves tonight, and everything has gone surprisingly well… but now what? He’s never gotten this far before.

Is this it? Katsuki wonders. Do we pretend to be strangers now?

He tries to imagine it: walking around campus with his friends and spying Izuku across the quad. Maybe Izuku will be playing ultimate frisbee with his bros or strumming a guitar badly in an attempt to impress a girl. They’ll make eye contact and Izuku will look away first, face turning bright red. Katsuki will know he’s thinking of him—remembering Katsuki between his thighs or pinned against that shower stall. Then Katsuki will smirk to himself before rejoining the conversation with his friends; the two of them continuing on their separate paths, never interacting outside of those few seconds.

This was how he’d always pictured it, even before he met Izuku—a secret fling with a straight guy; a special notch on his belt that he’d cherish in private. Except now that it is Izuku in the picture… he’s not so sure he wants that anymore, that it’ll be enough.

They stop outside the glass doors of the building, lingering.

“Uhh…” Katsuki starts. They’re eyeing each other like two kids at a middle school dance, both afraid to make the first move. Katsuki scratches the back of his neck, frowning. Just say goodbye, his brain tells him, but his mouth can’t form the word.

“Are we dating now?” Izuku blurts.

Katsuki can’t help it. He starts laughing. And not a light chuckle but a deep, full belly laugh that causes him to double over to suppress it, entire body quaking with the effort.

“Don’t laugh at me, Kacchan!” When Katsuki looks up at him, he sees Izuku’s lower lip jutting out. Katsuki shakes harder. Keeping the giggles contained almost hurts.

This guy is too cute. Wiping his eyes, Katsuki asks, “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

Katsuki straightens. “Then, yes, we are.” Idiot, he tacks on. Katsuki’s adorable idiot who thinks having sex means you’re officially boyfriends. Who believed getting hard after working out was standard procedure. Who abandons his heterosexuality the moment someone bats their blonde eyelashes at him, and forgives Katsuki for lying to him without ever getting mad. 

My idiot, I guess.

Izuku Midoriya is a good guy. And now he’s Katsuki’s.

Izuku’s smile is as brilliant as the sun parting the clouds, and the one on Katsuki’s face matches his perfectly.