In the six months since they'd been fucking, they had never kissed.
The locker room had long emptied, cleared of their third-year classmates, with only the musky air of dank and dirty laundry rising to the ceiling.
Huffs of sticky, humid breath passed from one parted mouth to the other, their lips brushing errantly as they sucked in each other's rampant desire. The sweat-slick slap of Katsuki's quickening hips, punctuated each time with Izuku's cries and gasps echoed the tiled walls. The back of Izuku's head impacted against the fragile mirror again and again, crack crack crack. His thighs quivered from sitting on the sink, Katsuki's arms hooked beneath each damp knee, hiking Izuku's legs up and apart as he fiercely pounded into him like the building was about to collapse upon them any moment.
They wouldn't have noticed if it had.
Izuku's nails had long sunk into Katsuki's shoulder blades, bloody crescents trickling blood down his back, much in the same way the excess lube seeped from his aching ass and onto the porcelain sink. The force of each thrust slammed the small of his back against the faucet, his shoulders and head against the mirror, shrieks of pain tearing through his limbs, even as tidal waves of pleasure drowned out the discomfort.
Swollen, leaking dick untouched and bobbing against his stomach, Izuku could only pull Katsuki in closer, his voice parched and needy.
"Kacchan, I'm gonna –"
Katsuki's growl silenced Izuku with a shock, just as he leaned in to clamp his teeth onto Izuku's lower lip and tug. Copper flooded Izuku's mouth, and then Katsuki's cock was pummeling him with a force that burned, and filled, and fit him like nothing and no one else could.
Izuku didn't know who shot off first, but they came near in synch, a mess of shouts, hands grappling for each other, cum slick between their bodies. Katsuki released Izuku's mouth in the midst of their shudders, his lips tilting in, searching –
Izuku turned his head.
Katsuki's brow dropped to Izuku's shoulder, Izuku's face forced into the hot, damp crook of his neck. Inhaling deep, Izuku smelled only Katsuki. Fire and blood and sex.
Izuku remembered when he didn't smell that way. But that was a long time ago.
"We're gonna be late," Izuku said, scrunching his legs between their bodies so he could close his knees. Now that the endorphins had run out, his back hurt like hell, but that wasn't something necessary to share with Katsuki. "And I need a shower. You too."
"Yeah," Katsuki said, pulling away, his eyes roaming everywhere but near Izuku, probably searching out where his clothes had been flung. "You're fuckin' rank. Take care of that."
"You're not so fresh yourself," Izuku said, wincing as he cautiously slid off of the sink. Sure, he'd had worse, but they'd literally just come out of a training session where Aizawa himself had used him as the test example for the class' challenge – and, thus, had promptly destroyed him. So, maybe today hadn't been his best day to be fucked on an unforgiving piece of metal and porcelain.
Without sparing each other another a second glance, they both made their way to individual shower stalls and did their thing. Hissing a little as the hot water and soap stung his open cuts and sores, Izuku frowned up into the spray with his eyes shut.
They were maybe getting more reckless than in the beginning of third year. If anything, the wild, almost violent desire they enacted on each other should have been dwindling by now – not increasing exponentially.
Though, who was to say? None of this had been planned.
After a particularly horrific run-in with a villain while on internship patrol, both Katsuki and Izuku had been left bed-ridden and barely alive. It had been one of those nights, when they'd both healed enough to be mobile, that Katsuki, of all people in this world, had climbed into Izuku's hospital bed.
