[Katsuki finds himself grinning. Who knew he could feel so accomplished from something besides fighting. He's close enough to feel the way Shouto tenses, and feel the heat of his breath, and he likes that it's him who makes Shouto react this way. He doesn't just like it. He needs more of it.]
Make m-
[His words quickly die with a loud gasp, his shoulder on fire and radiating down his spine. Is he getting sick? He feels like he has a fever.
How the hell does Shouto know exactly what to do to set him off?]
Asshole.
[He whispers, lightly biting the curve of his neck.]
no subject
Make m-
[His words quickly die with a loud gasp, his shoulder on fire and radiating down his spine. Is he getting sick? He feels like he has a fever.
How the hell does Shouto know exactly what to do to set him off?]
Asshole.
[He whispers, lightly biting the curve of his neck.]