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This is supposed to be punishment, Shouto knows, but it feels so good.
Katsuki just had to lick him through his panties until Shouto squirted all over his face. And now he’s got Shouto bent over his lap with his panties off and Katsuki’s large hand teasing between his legs, and he’s already so wet and it sounds so dirty and—and Shouto doesn’t get it.
Wasn’t this supposed to be just so Katsuki didn’t have to spend his ruts on his own anymore?
Wasn’t Shouto just convenient and willing and pretty enough, maybe, under the right lights?
Because—
Because the day he met Katsuki, he almost got run over.
And then Katsuki stepped out of the car in his tailored suit that cost more than a year of Shouto’s rent, and suddenly Shouto’s heart was pounding for entirely different reasons than nearly escaping death.
He still remembers how he blurted out wow, your hands are really nice, the way Katsuki’s mouth quirked up and he looked Shouto over like he’d just decided he didn’t mind the inconvenience of it all.
“Yeah?” he’d said, and Shouto nodded like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, red faced and so aware of that heat mercilessly traveling down, down, down.
To be fair, Katsuki’s hands are nice.
Shouto’s not sure his pussy can take much more, though. He’s sore and swollen and Katsuki keeps touching him anyway.
“Little slut,” he coos, like it’s supposed to be fond.
Shouto wants to cry. His eyelashes feel heavy. His thighs are messy with his own slick.
“Alpha,” he whines. “It hurts.”
And it does hurt. It’s just good hurt. Sharper pleasure. The kind that comes with no space to catch your breath. It’s not that Shouto doesn’t like it, it’s just that his pussy is empty, and that’s not how a good alpha is supposed to take care of you.
Maybe Katsuki just likes seeing his clit twitch every single time he brings his hand down between Shouto’s thighs, though. Because that’s what he’s been doing. Going from rubbing tight little circles against his puffy clit to petting his slit—a slow drag back and forth and back and forth like he’s got all the time he could want—and maybe dipping a few fingers inside just to get Shouto to whine out loud to—to slapping his pussy like Shouto deserves that too.
He’s mean. His alpha is so mean.
“You’re going to make me cry,” Shouto says. “It really does hurt, you know.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki says. He dips his fingers inside. “But you’re clenching so tight, princess.”
“That’s just—because it’s you,” Shouto says.
Katsuki could do whatever he wanted to him. Of course Shouto wouldn’t say no. That’s his alpha.
Even if—
Even if it’s definitely silly to think like that about a man closer to your father’s age than your own, and it’s not like—it’s not like they do anything besides this together.
Sure, when Katsuki found out Shouto was sick and miserable two weeks ago he came over with soup, and once Shouto’s fever broke he had choice words about the state of his pantry, and then, when Shouto pouted and asked him about work, he scoffed and said you’re more important, sweetheart.
That did get him all fluttery inside even if two minutes ago he’d been busy sniffling into a napkin.
Is Katsuki taking his due recompense, now?
He soothes the ache with deliberate little rubs to his clit, but he is very much slapping Shouto’s pussy. It sounds so wet. And every time Katsuki’s hand comes down between his thighs again, Shouto drips more slick and clenches around nothing and thinks fuck me fuck me fuck me already.
“Yeah?” he asks. “I make your little pussy wet, huh?”
Shouto clutches tighter at Katsuki’s trousers. Stupid alpha. He knows. He has to know.
“Mm,” Shouto whines. “Sometimes, I just—I think about your hands, and I don’t even have to touch to make a mess in my panties.”
“Needy,” Katsuki says. “Needy little thing.”
“Yours,” Shouto protests, just as another slap lands right between his parted thighs. “Wanna be yours.”
“Already are,” Katsuki huffs, like it’s obvious. “I take care of you, don’t I?”
He pushes two fingers inside, curls them once, twice, three times, rough and quick and merciless, and Shouto’s stretched pussy takes it and clenches tighttighttight again. He can’t think. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts, and he keeps coming anyway, even with the pain, and Katsuki—is Katsuki mad at him?
“Stop bullying my pussy,” Shouto whines. “Give me a knot already.”
Katsuki tugs his fingers out and slaps him again. “You can take it,” he says. “Right, baby?”
“No,” Shouto says. “No, I can’t. I want a knot in my pussy. Please, alpha? I want to be full.”
“That so?” Katsuki asks. “I want to look.”
“Mean,” Shouto whines. “My alpha is so mean.”
Katsuki goes still with a hand on the back of Shouto’s thigh, right under the curve of his ass. “What did you just say?”
Shouto’s cheeks burn. He shouldn’t, he knows. He shouldn’t call Katsuki things that aren’t true, and he shouldn’t even want them, and he should learn to settle for what he can get, because it’s not like Katsuki will wake up one day and change his mind about any of what they are, and—and Shouto’s lucky, anyway, because his alpha takes care of him.
“I said you’re mean to me,” Shouto says, warm cheek pressed to Katsuki’s thigh. “You’re being mean, alpha.”
“Brat,” Katsuki hisses.
And then he tugs Shouto by the scruff of the neck until Shouto settles into his lap facing him, and grabs him by the chin.
“Look at me,” he says. “What did you call me?”
His grip is firm, but he’s not yelling. He doesn’t sound mad.
Maybe—
Maybe Shouto didn’t mess up?
“I want it,” he blurts. “I think about it. I want it to be with you. I want you to bite me. I want—I think about giving you pups. And I know it’s not what you want, and I know it’s silly, and I know I’m just convenient for you, but—”
That’s when Katsuki kisses him.
“You’re not convenient,” he says. “What the hell? You’re just—mine.”
He sounds so offended it makes Shouto pause. Sure, he’s half naked in Katsuki’s lap, and the needy part of him just wants to grind down and chase more pleasure and trust Katsuki to hold him through it, but Katsuki’s saying mine like he means it, for real, and that’s kind of a big deal.
Isn’t it?
“I am?” Shouto asks. “Really?”
Katsuki’s eyebrows furrow. “You can’t be asking me that,” he says. “Shouto, I know your top three favorite kinds of ice cream by heart.”
“But you never get any with me when I want it,” Shouto pouts. “You always say it’s too sweet.”
“Because it is,” Katsuki says. “Besides, I just—I like watching you eat, okay? You get so happy.”
Shouto’s nose scrunches. “I get happy because you’re with me,” he says. “Well, I like the ice cream too, but I get happy because you never let me pay and you always hold my hand and you don’t make fun of me for getting three scoops in the middle of winter when I can’t decide.”
Because Katsuki didn’t say no the first time, when Shouto was still warm and sore between his thighs from being knotted and he reached for Katsuki on the bed and told him I want ice cream, okay? Instead, he just snorted and said sure, princess, anything you want and paid for Shouto’s three scoops.
(Maybe Shouto has gotten a little spoiled after all. It’s just warmer when Katsuki’s around. And he doesn’t like being cold.)
“Hey,” Katsuki says. “Sweetheart, you know you can ask me for anything, right? I got—I was angry. I’m sorry I didn’t talk about it. But I thought—I figured you didn’t want the cheesy shit, you know?”
“I want it,” Shouto says. “I really, really want it.”
Katsuki’s gaze softens. “Alright,” he says. “Then I’ll give you anything you want.”
You know, like it’s that easy.
Shouto’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “Ice cream,” he says. “But a knot first.”
Katsuki laughs. “Spoiled omega,” he says, his hands firm on Shouto’s hips. “Who’s responsible for that, huh?”
Shouto wants to kiss him. “My alpha,” he says. “My alpha is responsible for me.”
He wants a lot. He wants Katsuki to kiss him good morning every single day. He wants to tell him about all the cats he sees on the way to class, and how his feet hurt if he walks a lot but he doesn’t like taking the bus. He wants to make dinner and have Katsuki come up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist and say like this, princess so close it sends shivers down his spine, and he wants a bite on his neck, right where everyone could see, and he wants pups and he wants—
He wants it all, with Katsuki.
Most of all, he wants to unbuckle his belt and get a knot, though.
And then ice cream. Pistachio. Only two scoops this time, because it’s cold out.