[All these sounds Katsuki is making are so bizarrely pleasant, sending a rush of warmth flooding through him. It's good, it's a sign that he's good, and he feels entirely too good about that, too. He's greedy for more of them, wants more of them, and even that disappointed noise is amazing. Shouto's eyes open and see Katsuki looking back at him, cheeks flushed and lips almost swollen and wet and it's way more attractive than he'd ever imagined. He would never in a million years have thought this would be a thing. Ever. In any universe. And yet, it's happening, and he likes it.

And then that look on Katsuki's face shifts, and he's flinging himself away from Shouto, and Shouto freezes, hands still holding the hem of his shirt. What is he doing? What are they doing?? What the hell is any of this, and why is he disappointed that it's stopped???

Something in his chest clenches painfully, and he lets go of his shirt, pulling himself into a seated position pressed into the corner of the couch, drawing his knees up in front of him in a posture he knows is defensive and can't help, anyway.]

...I was hot, and it was uncomfortable.

[His voice is a little raspy from disuse, and much quieter than it should be, and he resists the urge to lick his lips again. This is stupid. What was he even thinking? He wasn't, and that's the point, and now the weirdly comfortable friendship they've built is going to end. He's ruined this too, just like he ruined things with Izuku.]

I wasn't stripping, anyway. It's just a shirt. Wasn't like I was taking anything else off.

[He sounds weird. He sounds hurt, and weirdly lost, and he hates it but he can't seem to stop it.]