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Shouto is an adult. A pro-hero. Perfectly capable of functioning on his own despite the circumstances (no matter what Katsuki says about his cooking skills they’re—well, passable, and that’s all Shouto needs).
The thing, though, is—
He doesn’t want to. He’s gotten maybe a little spoiled after having so much love thrown unconditionally at him, but he doesn’t want to have to go to bed alone for the second week in a row, fourteen nights exactly now. (Shouto’s been counting.) Fourteen nights of laying on his back and miserably waiting to fall asleep because getting comfortable on his side or spreading out on his stomach like he usually would feels off without an arm around his waist, without the unmistakable warmth of another body next to him.
Shouto misses Katsuki.
Misses him so horribly and pathetically that he’s been sleeping in his clothes and pressing his face into Katsuki’s pillow to muffle his whines when this unfamiliar loneliness seeps inside, crawls under the covers with him, and the only way Shouto has found so far to make it stop is to wonder about how Katsuki would touch him if he were here.
But he isn’t. He’s in some hotel bed halfway across Japan, and Shouto is—well, he’s not with him.
Shouto shuts his eyes tightly and tries to fall asleep. If he’s lucky, Katsuki will be back in another week or so.
…
It should be morning. Shouto’s been waking up at seven on the dot ever since he was a kid. It’s a hard habit to break, despite his best efforts. But no light peeks through the blinds, and something feels distinctly—
Alpha, Shouto thinks, even if that’s not—it’s not possible, because Katsuki is—
“Did you forget about me already?”
Oh. Katsuki is here. With him. Wrapping a hand around Shouto’s waist, the callused pads of his fingertips dragging over Shouto’s stomach. Shouto leans into the touch and feels warm, warm, warm. Just—endlessly warm.
“I’m not gonna let you forget who you belong to that easily, little omega.”
Katsuki’s breath tickles the back of Shouto’s neck when he leans in to press a kiss and then another one there, moving higher and higher until his face is pressed into Shouto’s hair. Shouto feels him breathe in, try to pull Shouto closer even though his whole body is pressed against his, and—
The barely-there hint of a stubble scrapes against the side of Shouto’s neck when Katsuki kisses him there, open-mouthed and wet and a little bit mean. He doesn’t even have to bite for Shouto to whine and squeeze his thighs together. For him to chase the rapidly mounting pleasure like it’s that easy. Like they’re fifteen and it’s the first time Katsuki has ever touched him.
“Didn’t forget,” Shouto protests. “Wanted—want you. Just—just you, alpha.”
“I know,” Katsuki says. “I can smell how much you need me.”
“When did you get back?” Shouto asks. “I thought you still had work to do.”
It’s too much. It feels like too much. Like he’s going to drown.
“I had a good reason to hurry up, didn’t I?” Katsuki says, tugging at Shouto’s earlobe with his teeth.
Shouto shivers like he didn’t just come untouched in his underwear. God, he wants. Katsuki could tug his underwear—official Ground Zero merch, because of course it is—off and slip right in. Shouto is probably wet enough to handle it.
“You did?” he asks.
Katsuki hums. “Yeah,” he says. “My omega was waiting for me at home all alone.”
“Momo came over for board games with Hitoshi and Izuku a couple of days ago,” Shouto says, because that feels like relevant information. (Because it feels like he should remind himself of these things, at certain times. Of all the other people besides Katsuki who love him.)
“Had fun?” Katsuki asks conversationally, even as his hand drifts higher to pinch at one of Shouto’s nipples. “Or were you too busy thinking about my knot to enjoy it?”
Shouto gasps. He wants so badly to kiss him, to turn around and trace the sweat drying on Katsuki’s skin with his tongue. A proper omega wouldn’t think that. A proper omega would consider such things shameful and dirty and would only ever wait and do what their alpha asks of them, never demand, never dare to take.
“Katsuki,” Shouto says. “Come on.”
They’ve never been good at following rules, the two of them.
“You were, weren’t you?” Katsuki says, sounds so smug about it too, clearly in no hurry, despite the fact that Shouto can feel just how much he wants in return, with no space to hide. “Bet that nerd was beating everyone at Scrabble or some shit and you were thinking about me stretching you out just so I could fill you up.”
Shouto shakes his head. “No,” he says.
“No?” Katsuki repeats, like he’s indulging him.
“Wouldn’t be patient enough for that,” Shouto says. “I—I was just thinking about sitting on your knot right there, thinking—thinking about you making me hold still until everyone’s had their turn so I couldn’t—couldn’t do anything besides feel you inside me—”
“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, and then he’s gripping Shouto’s jaw with one hand and tipping his head back just to kiss him.
Shouto drowns. Falls and falls and falls as he kisses back wet and sloppy and filled with all the need piled up inside him, the need he didn’t know what to do with without Katsuki’s hands on his body, the need that felt like it might choke him.
Katsuki thumbs at the string of spit at the corner of his bottom lip, eyes dark with want. “So perfect and filthy and all mine.”
“Yes,” Shouto says. “Yours.”
It had taken him a bit to realize what Katsuki meant when he called him his, in the beginning. He’s bad at saying things, still. Better than he was at fifteen, sure, but Shouto knows what he means when he says mine now. Knows he means I love you, knows he means I want to keep you safe, knows he means I need to remind myself you’re not going anywhere. Knows Katsuki gets scared a lot more than he lets on.
Shouto used to hate so many things about himself. Used to wonder if someone could ever love him with so much rot crawling right under his skin, with so many nightmares looming behind his eyelids. And then Katsuki had taken one look at him, and decided on making getting Shouto to be kinder to himself a personal challenge. That—worked out surprisingly well, in retrospect.
Shouto doesn’t mind belonging to someone, when it means never having to question, never having to wonder if he’s wanted. He knows, with Katsuki.
“Are you going to fuck me, alpha?” he asks. “We—ah, we fit together so well. Missed having you inside me.”
Katsuki pins both of Shouto’s wrists to the bed before he’s even finished speaking. It does something to the instinctual part of his brain, being trapped like this, looking up at Katsuki and baring his neck anyway, because he trusts him now and always.
Katsuki makes a sound like a strangled growl. “You want me to mate you like this?” he asks, nuzzling at Shouto’s neck, just barely scraping his teeth over the skin. “Is that what you want, Shouto?”
Yes, Shouto thinks, yes yes yes please god I want it so badly—
Katsuki pulls back and blinks at Shouto. “You really do,” he says, like he’s just realized it.
“Yes,” Shouto says. “I do.”
This, of all the things they’ve done, of all the things he’s asked for, of all the things he’s pleaded and sobbed and shamelessly begged for, makes his cheeks sting with shame. To admit he’d prefer being mated like this, in their tiny apartment on a nondescript Friday, without even being properly asked beforehand, just as long as it would mean he could have this forever.
(That he could have Katsuki forever.)
“What the fuck,” Katsuki says gravely, his head dropping to rest on Shouto’s chest. “What the absolute, everloving fuck, you giant idiot?”
“You’re the one who’s been calling me your omega since high school,” Shouto points out. “Why is that—why is this, now, so—unexpected?”
“Because you are,” Katsuki says, like it’s obvious. “You’re my omega, and I better be the one to take care of you for the rest of my fucking life, but—I was gonna ask, you moron. I got permission from your mom and everything.”
Shouto blinks. “You did?”
Katsuki—Katsuki asked his mother for permission to mate him. That’s—no one does that anymore. It makes Shouto want to cry, a little, in the worst and best way possible. (He’s also still really eager to see how this being pinned to the bed thing is going to continue. So.)
“Of course I did,” Katsuki says. “Wasn’t about to half-ass this. It’s important.”
“Katsuki?” Shouto says.
“Yeah?”
“I really, really want you to mate me, and you can go ahead, like, right now, I promise I wouldn’t mind—”
(At this, Katsuki makes another strained sound, tightening his grip on Shouto’s wrists a bit.)
“—but can you—I mean, please?”
Katsuki smirks. “What do you want?” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind Shouto’s ear far too gently. “Ask nicely.”
Not gentle, that’s for sure. Shouto doesn’t want gentle, right now. “Alpha,” he says. “Want you to fuck me until I’m sore. Want it to hurt. Want to sit at my desk on Monday and remember this.” He waits for a breath, then says, “Please.”
Katsuki doesn’t really give a lot of opportunities to say anything that isn’t his name after that.
…
“You know,” Shouto says, later, giddy and sated and definitely sore, “you didn’t have to—I mean, you could’ve said something first. I don’t know, like—honey, I’m home?”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says. “You try coming home after two weeks in the middle of nowhere with people you can barely stand and not—not wanting to—” He groans. “You were wearing my clothes, Shouto. You smelled like me. You smelled like you wanted to be fucked.”
“I did,” Shouto says, much more level about this whole thing after that part has been handled. “I’m generally very satisfied with our sex life.”
“Will you for once in your goddamn life—wait, generally?” Katsuki squints at him.
Shouto wants to laugh. “You’re great in bed,” he says dutifully, running his knuckles over Katsuki’s cheek. “I’ve never once thought about breaking up with you over sexual dissatisfaction."
Katsuki scoffs. “Real funny, Shouto.”
“What?” Shouto asks. “It’s true. Actually, I distinctly remember texting Momo something about starting to believe in a higher power after the first time you ate me out.”
Katsuki almost looks embarrassed. It’s cute, how he gets sometimes. “Please,” he says, “tell me ponytail doesn’t know everything about our sex life in explicit detail.”
Shouto shrugs. “She might know more than you do, honestly.”
“You’re fucking lucky I love you,” Katsuki says.
“I know,” Shouto says. He can’t fight the childish urge to smile. “You’re like a dragon.”
“What?” Katsuki asks.
“Like the stories. The legends and the children’s tales. You look scary but you’re just—you’re just trying to keep what’s important to you safe.”
“Finally figured out you’re important to me, huh, you idiot?”
“I think I knew it already," Shouto says. "But reminders don't hurt once in a while."
And then Katsuki pulls him in for a kiss, all slow and gentle and meaningful, and it’s—
It feels like a good start. For whatever comes next. As long as Katsuki’s there with him, Shouto doesn’t mind too much.