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He used to hate the rain.
Katsuki has hated the rain ever since he was a child; the downpour from the heavens wrecked his nerves all wrong. It set off an uneasy feeling in his gut, twisting as he would watch from behind the windows as the earth turned wet and grey. Now when it rained, he spent his time in his house, feeding all his little hobbies as he waited for the heavens to clear. But today, he could get down on his knees and thank every god around and bless the downpour because he was not working, nor was he home.
Instead, he was here, in your lounge with you in his arms. The smell of you everywhere on everything as you lay there with him. Even breaths were coming out as you flipped through pages of a book unknown to him. The plushness of you on his hard body. The light, a soft orange from the lowlights in the room, and the smell of cinnamon in the air mingling with you in his nose from a candle not too far from the sofa. The TV was soon background noise to his feast of you.
He can feel every breath you take, your tummy sinking and rising within his forearms. How warm you felt in your clothes, his clothes, covered from under your neck to the bottom of your feet, covered in his smell. Pressed up against him like this, you are comfortable enough to not move as your eyes stay trained on the ink on the page. He thinks you are perfect for him, softly worshipping you with his thoughts. He thinks you smell nice, comfy, and homey. You make that twist in his gut from the rain seep away. Then you fill him with this gooey soft feeling, like hot mush melting in his stomach, that makes his muscles soften and welcome you in.
Katsuki thinks he could fall asleep here, holding you, enveloping you, and comforting you without much. He really wants to sleep here, but he can’t. His mouth keeps filling with saliva as he contemplates his mouth on yours. Wondering if he is allowed to be selfish enough to draw you from comfort and kiss you breathless. Wondering if he can thank you for making him feel this way. It feels like his bones are jelly, his insides are hot and mushy, making his nose twitch in excitement at all the scents that fill his nasal passage. Thank you for calling him here when it's raining because you know how much he hates it, like you always did.
Katsuki thinks you can read his mind sometimes, because you speak all the things without even a prompt. “Want a kiss.” It's supposed to be a question, but it's more of you telling him you know what he wants without looking up from your thick book. Your voice is soft and small, but it fills the room with a new warmth, not from the blankets and hoodies you adorned yourselves with, but from the heat sizzling under both your skins and at the question hanging in the air. Even if it wasn't a question he answers, “I do.” And like that, the question in the air is never posed but simply answered.
Katsuki is patient when it comes to you because he knows when you are willing, you give him the world. You are his world, spinning on your axis and gracing him with your soft lips on his. You are soft about it always, never too fast, never too slow. Simply putting your lips to his, hands on his face holding him. He can see your eyes close as you move; he knows he should close his. He wants to close his, but he hates missing out on seeing your face. He hates not seeing how your eyelids twitch as he pulls you into his body, his lap. The way they relax when he dips his tongue in your mouth and watching your nose flare when he licks a certain spot in your mouth. He takes it all in, committing it all to memory, placing it in the files, “You like it here,” before succumbing to your lips and letting his eyes close as he relishes it all.
What was soft and slow grows as Katsuki's greed gets the best of him. Soon his hands are on the back of your neck, craning you back to taste more of you. Your hands are on his shoulders, balling the hoodie as he keeps eating up the air in your lungs. Where you were on his lap, he now pressed you under him; the clothes he loves you in were suddenly too much for him. He wants to be close, closer than close. Being inside your mouth is not enough. He wants to lavish you with his love, making sure you understand how much his heart swells in these moments, threatening to burst from his very chest. How you make him look forward to one thing he hates because he loves you so. He would do anything at all if you just asked. Please ask him to do anything for you.
“More Katsuki…please.” That's all he needs to hear; his brain dissolves and rewires at your every beck and call. You slide your body up and down his, shivering in a way he can feel, as he takes your bottom lip between his mouth. He wants to bite you but knows he can't be rough where you are delicate and instead nibbles it. As your breathy moans fill the air around him, he is adamant in giving you what you want, his hand fishing his erection out from his sweats to lay on your clothed stomach. He is kissing along your jaw, stroking all the sensitive parts you like when he mouths at your neck, taking your scent in as he presses his nose flush to your skin. He tries and fails to not make his hips buck into you but can't. Your skin tastes so good against his tongue; he can't imagine how it would feel against his teeth.
Even if Katsuki is the one making you feel so good, lavishing you with every piece of him as a sign of worship to the point of being overwhelmed, he can feel himself leaking all over you, staining his own clothes as he shimmies his hips. You alone get him like this, leaking and wanting, impatient without a touch to his body, just him on you. It's getting so bad; with his tongue licking at the underside of your ear, he feels like he's going to combust right there. Because he feels your breath on his neck. He can hear you call his name, he can feel you over him, under him, and taste you on his tongue.
It's like chords on his mind are snapping with each second that passes, and he may just go insane if he can't plunge his way into you and melt there for hours. He knows you like the fact that his hands are rough to the touch, even if his graze against you is gentle, so he uses that. Katsuki reaches under your top and caresses your bare skin as he suckles at your neck—he is hoping it all bruises so he can stroke over it all in the morning, watching you admire it in the mirror with a guilty smile. He touches your pudge and your breast with fleeting touches as if to remind and acknowledge them. Places he loves but can't explore due to his growing impatience. Although fleeting, it's intentional in travelling down your body, slipping into the sweatpants and feeling. It's easy, wet and warm; your legs spread as soon as his hand is between you both, and he wants to keen into your tummy and cum there at the thought.
“All wet from kissing?” he teases, testing your weeping entrance with a blunt finger that strokes in shallowly. You tense, grabbing a handful of his bicep, the pants slipping low. “Stop teasing.” You are so pretty when you whine; it makes him kiss you softer, dipping your tongue into his mouth as a second finger strokes inside you. His other hand puts your pants lower, and you pull one leg free. You're so warm, sticky and achy around his fingers; it would be criminal to keep you waiting. Gently he detached your lips but left only the smallest gap to let your breaths tickle each other's lips. He places his forehead on yours and looks down at you. Your eyes are suggestions under your lashes, black, your pupils overtaking the iris as the smooth blunt tip slides along your slit. “Are you ready?” He always asks even if he knows you are. A small part of him thinks one day you'll stop wanting this, him. You'll want something—someone better with his words, softer with his approach, and more patient with his overwhelming needs for you.
But then you kiss him, hands at his ears, where he likes the most stroking against the shell of it sweetly. “I'm always ready for you, Katsuki.” And when he sinks into you after that kiss, and then he feels you pull him in more and more, he lets all his doubts become dust to flick off his shoulder. The little voice is drowned away into the echoes of your voice as his pelvis touches yours, as all of you is taken, willingly given to him. Simply because you love him. You love Katsuki fully and wholly, every bit of him from the hair on his head to the last bit of his toe. And he loves you all the same, if not more, forever willing to worship the air able to encase you, the love of his life. You are his everything.
Katsuki's heart races in his chest at the thoughts, and his skin beads with sweat at the feeling of you wrapped around him. He shifts in and out of you. You cry out, hands searching to find him, his hands warm and grabbing, and they are interlocking with each other beside your head. Anchoring him pushes you deeper and deeper. He wants to call your name, to tell you he feels like he is in heaven, but his voice is caught; all he can do is make noise. Cry out moans and weep out his pleasure more and more as you begin to clamp around him. You are doing the same, hips meeting with him; the tempo is off, but it's enough for you because he knows he keeps hitting the soft spot. Every time his vein curves over it, he can feel you twitch. Until you are just twitching at him. He's deep inside, and soon you're gushing out your orgasm with a loud cry, tears at the corners of your eyes. He chases you as your body is rattled with sensitivity, hips hitting shallow, and voice getting loud until he can finally call your name with his cum pouring into you.
Katsuki collapses on you, and everything feels well in the world. He can feel you both breath in sync as he ghosts your lips to his. Both spent, satiated and best of all in love with the person touching your skin on the rainy Sunday evening.