numbertwohero | Prismatica Inbox

[It is both of those things, isn't it? Terrifying, thrilling, dangerous, exciting. He knows what Katsuki can do with those hands. And yet here he is, clasping one of those dangerous weapons to his cheek, and the feeling of teeth against his lip sends an involuntary shudder through him, his legs shifting against Katsuki's without any thought except to get closer.

It's not going to be difficult to figure out Shouto's reaction, even for Katsuki, who's about as good at reading people as Shouto himself is, which is to say not at all. His pupils are blown, eyes hazy, cheeks flushed. Maybe later he'll be embarrassed. Maybe an hour from now, maybe tomorrow. But not right now. Right now, all he feels as Katsuki leans back in is a surge of fierce triumph and the sparking rush of adrenaline. He'll win? They'll see about that.

This time, it's Shouto's turn to tilt his head, lips parted slightly as he kisses back, lifting a hand to sink into surprisingly fluffy blonde hair as he pulls Katsuki closer, shifting on the couch to draw him in. It's invitation as much as it is challenge, and he knows Katsuki will have about as much luck resisting that as he would.]

[Fuck, the only other time Katsuki has seen Shouto look this beautiful is during the sports festival. He's so vulnerable and dangerous and he thinks his chest might burst from knowing he's the one who got him to look like this. Instead he leans forward, falling into Shouto, his hands skating down over his chest. He can feel his firm pectorals even under the fabric of his shirt.

It's dizzying. Somehow Shouto has managed to tackle him right off his axis, but he doesn't give a shit about anything else, about what's going on around them. He just wants to experience more than this. He wants to taste Shouto's lips and see if he tastes as good as he smells and looks. Parting his lips, he traces his tongue along the outside of Shouto's lips, marveling their softness. He does taste good. He tangles his legs in the other's, breathing through his nose, but eventually he needs more air. He pulls away, but not before lightly biting Shouto's bottom lip, his face mere centimeters away. He can still feel his breath from here and count every gunmetal and robin's egg blue fleck in his irises.]

So? Did I do better?

[The feeling of a tongue on his lips makes his heart feel like it's going to leap straight out of his chest, like the floor's suddenly dropped out from under him. That's Katsuki's tongue, and the gesture makes him feel bolder, bold enough to return it. He tastes different. He tastes good. So much better than anything else, and he's tempted to do it again, lips parted and eyes closed, when suddenly there's a slight sharpness of teeth in his lower lip, enough to pull a faint sound of surprise from him. Surprise, yes, but definitely not a bad one. Maybe he could do it again. Maybe he will.

Except they both have to breathe, and finally it's Katsuki who pulls away, panting slightly, allowing Shouto a moment to catch his breath and look up at him, trying to focus on his words.]

Better...?

[Better than what? Better than his own? How's he supposed to know? And what was that about winning? Almost despite himself, Shouto can feel his lips curling in a smile that warms his expression, eyes almost luminous.]

Don't know. Maybe you should do it again, so I can have a better idea.

[What is he doing? What is he saying? Someone should stop this, but honestly it's not gonna be him right now. This feels too nice to stop, and his Cordis instincts are far too strong.]

[Shouto's doing the same to him and it feels fucking good, like a shot of adrenaline that makes him hyper-aware of every motion. He wishes he didn't have to breathe. All he wants right now is to keep his lips on Shouto's, to taste and discover everything he can. He tastes amazing and he wants to keep at it.

His flushed skin and bright eyes make him look like some ethereal being. And then he smiles and some unlabeled emotion floods Katsuki. He can't stop staring and he almost forgets about his disappointment at pulling away. His own lips are reddened and he licks them to try and get one last taste.

Oh.]

You're on.

[He smirks, far more confident about this than when he started. He dives in again, placing a hand on the back of Shouto's head to hold onto him.

[He can't help it, honestly. There's just something about the other boy that brings all of his competitive drive to the surface, whether it's through training or eating or the weird form of banter they've established. So really, why would kissing be any different?

It's not like kissing Titus, and it's not like kissing Izuku or Iida, even if this is something influenced by this place and these moons. This is something entirely new, and honestly? Entirely fun. He doesn't even think about holding back as Katsuki places a hand on the back of his head, and this time it's Shouto's turn to part his lips first, licking at Katsuki's lower lip, then experimentally sucking on it, tugging it between his teeth to see if it does the same thing for him as it did for Shouto. The texture is new, unique, and that's going to take some getting used to, but the taste--oh, he definitely likes the taste. Why does he taste so good? Something seems vastly unfair about that, and at the same time he's definitely not going to question it as long as he gets more. More of everything, in fact. Maybe if he--yeah, that's a little better, possibly. He's just going to tug Katsuki a little more on top of him, looking for more contact, more closeness, as his hands wander down the other boy's chest and then back under his shirt, sliding over his lower back and then boldly exploring further, fingers splaying flat over his stomach as he arches up into that kiss. Why hold back, when they're both enjoying this?]

[Kissing like it's another form of competition makes it easier. It puts a label on something unfamiliar to him. But even moreso, he enjoys competing with Shouto. He enjoys kissing Shouto. He doesn't just enjoy it. He's getting a rush out of it.

Shouto's doing something to his lip, and he hums a noise he didn't think he could make, leaning into Shouto without thinking, and he didn't know people could do that with their mouths. Maybe it's just Shouto. Shouto's in his own league. He feels like he's flying, weightless, but made of super charged energy all the same. His hands grip silky locks. This must be what murder feels like. Shouto's hands sear his skin, leaving him wanting more, so he tries to do the same, going up Shouto's shirt and along his spine. He won't fall behind.]

[If it's that context, Shouto would be hard pressed to disagree. After all, this is so new and strange to both of them. Not just the who, but the what. And honestly? He's enjoying the rush of the who just as much as the what.

That noise that Katsuki makes at his little experiment sends what feels like lightning racing right down his spine. Is that him? Did he do that, pull a sound like that from Bakugou Katsuki, terror of 1-A? He did, and he wants to do it again. He wants more of those hands in his hair, and more of the warm skin under his hands, and he wants to roll himself in the delicious scent that fills his nose.

As Katsuki's hands find his bare skin, it's Shouto's turn to make a noise that's definitely a sound of pleasant surprise, his back arching slightly which only presses him closer to Katsuki's chest. How can just touching feel this good? Is this what Cordis does, or this place in general? Or would it be like this anyway? Doesn't matter, honestly, it's kind of a moot point. All he knows is he wants more contact, and his shirt is bunching uncomfortably around his ribs, and getting in the way, and he does that thing again with his teeth in Katsuki's lip before he finally pulls away, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed as he fumbles for the hem of his shirt, grabbing it and starting to tug it upwards, not even thinking about what he's doing.]

[How the hell was Shouto so good at everything? Everything about him simultaneously set off his competitive streak and drew him to him at the same time. But this was different and yet at the same time it wasn't. He would never admit that to his classmate and rival, but that doesn't stop him from smirking against his lips when he gets Shouto to make that sound, and he's pretty sure Shouto was louder. He doesn't give a shit if this is Cordis or something else at this point. He wants Shouto to keep doing that thing to his lip, he wants his warm hands to explore his skin. He wants to keep learning about him, what sets him off and gets him to smile, his smile is the most goddamn perfect thing he's seen. He wants to stay near his warmth.

Katsuki makes a loud, pleased sound, but then grunts in disappointment when Shouto moves away. How the hell did he get to be so beautiful? He's too hypnotized by what he's seeing, his own face flushed pink, to catch onto the movement at first.

And then he notices what he's doing and it's as if he's been submerged in ice.]

Wh-

[Hang the fuck on.]

THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!

[He jumps back, landing on his wings and points at Shouto, his mind racing a million miles a minute. What just happened? What was Shouto doing? What was he doing?! What the fuck was this, and why was he enjoying it?!]

WHY ARE YOU STRIPPING?!

[Why didn't he want it to stop???]

Edited 2020-03-17 09:56 (UTC)

[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.]

Then...fucking get colder.

[Katsuki mumbles, all irritation and confusion with nowhere to go. He pinches the bridge of his nose, hard, as if hoping if he hurts himself enough he can make the other pain go away. He doesn't like that look on Shouto's face. But how he sounds is what really stabs at him. It twists his insides and forces them up against his chest, pressing them against his heart and he can't breathe or think about anything other than that hurt, Shouto looks hurt, just like everyone else did when he said something too cruel or his recklessness got them harmed. But this time it's different. It's hurting him too and he has no idea why.

Why the hell was he acting like he was in the wrong? So he fucking snapped. He does that all the time. What made it any different now? He was the one with an actual shred of common sense. Maye Shouto was just hot. What if it had been some other dumbass here instead of Katsuki who didn't understand that and took it as a sign of something else? The rage is familiar. It's comfortable. He lets it boil over until he snaps, again without thinking.]

Don't see you throwing around your shirt any time you got hot in class, Icy Hot.

[Please, just stop talking. Stop sounding like that. Just agree with him and move on.]

[That's right. Katsuki snaps all the time, so why should this be any different? Why should he let it get to him? It's no different from any other day.

Except it is. What they were just doing--he's never gotten like that with anyone before. Sure, he's kissed a few people, but that was something in a whole new class.

His cheeks flush as Katsuki throws his answers back at Shouto, and his jaw sets, a muscle twitching as his fingers tighten around his knees. Is he mad? He hopes he's mad. Mad is easier, familiar.]

We're not in class. It's just us, and we're in my apartment alone, and if being around me makes you that uncomfortable you're welcome to leave, Katsuki.

[He sounds mad, but it isn't just mad. He sounds hurt. He hates that, but it doesn't change it. Even the use of Katsuki's name is a deliberate jab at the other boy, calling him out for always resulting to insults and name-calling. A dumb one, but still.

What is he even doing here?]

[The name cuts through Katsuki like a knife. Does he flinch? Maybe. He tells himself he's just twitching, out of the sheer infuriation toward Shouto. He's the one who made this weird. And he had the fucking gall to pin this on him?

They had been doing fine. No. No they hadn't. This whole thing was stupid. He had been stupid, and it was all fucking Cordis' fault. He finally looks at Shouto and sneers, as if he's mean enough he can just erase everything that happened. He can ignore the hurt in Shouto's voice. When the fuck did he start caring? Caring was a mistake.]

If ya wanted me out so bad, Todoroki, you could've just kicked me out. I ain't no sensitive piece of shit.

[He stands up, stiff, tense. The air is cold against the back of his neck, and he refuses to look back at Shouto. Why does it fucking hurt? It shouldn't hurt. Fuck this empathy for another person crap.]

I'll pay you back for the snacks. See you around.

[He always has to have the last word. He always has to win. So he goes to the door, the metal knob burning in his palm, and moves to leave.]

[That flinch should make him feel good. Instead, it just hurts, like all the rest of it hurts, and he doesn't know why or how to make it stop.

Shouto wants to argue when Katsuki throws those words at him. Wants to say that he doesn't want him to leave. Wants to ask him to stay. Wants to apologize.

The words stick on his tongue. Instead, what comes out is hushed, and he's not looking at Katsuki at all as he speaks, frozen on the couch like his quirk has malfunctioned. It may as well have, for how cold he feels, how numb except for the stupid searing warmth of his lips and the deep, piercing ache in his chest.]

...Do what you want, Bakugou. You always do.

[Katsuki can have the last word. He doesn't care. He doesn't. He doesn't. And maybe if he sits there long enough, alone in the oppressive silence of his apartment, he'll believe it.]

He sits there for

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