"Shirt," Katsuki growled, one hand tugging at the fabric that stood between the two of them, fingers of his free hand trailing over Izuku's stomach, mapping muscles and skin. Lust licked at him like flames, crackling over his skin. "Before I fucking get rid of it."
"Okay, okay," Izuku murmured, breathless from kisses, face flushed pink. His hand moved to the hem of his shirt, hesitating. His tongue darted out, licking lips already swollen from Katsuki's teeth and repeated kisses. A jolt of desire shot down Katsuki's spine, straight to his cock already pressing against his jeans. "Yours too."
"Deku," Katsuki groaned, barely resisting the urge to release an explosion that would burn the offending shirt. He wasn't going to lose to a scrap of cotton and thread. "Now. Before I fucking get rid of it myself."
"Please?"
"Your ass is fucking needy," Katsuki hissed out a breath, tugging his own tank top over his head and throwing it aside, not caring where it landed. "There. Fucking happy?"
Izuku swallowed, leaning back from where he sat on Katsuki's lap, giving himself space to maneuver. The cords and sinews of his neck moved in a way that sent all the blood in Katsuki's body rushing south, logic disappearing under a hunger that could never be sated. His mouth watered and he swallowed, attempting to wet his suddenly dry throat.
Slowly, Izuku's fingers bunched in his cotton shirt, drawing it up in a gradual, tantalizing display of freckled skin that left Katsuki struggling to keep his breathing even.
He wanted to torment Izuku into a frenzy, as he was teased, wanted him panting and as needy as Katsuki already felt. His skin was too tight, his heart slamming against his ribs in a rhythm akin to a hard rock beat that had he been at the drums, would have left his arms shaking in exhaustion.
The shirt fell away, leaving Izuku bare from the waist up, free for Katsuki's hands to explore, for his mouth to taste. He reached out, fingers skimming up Izuku's torso, over his collarbone, down arms, relishing in the shiver that he coaxed from the smaller teenager, wondering if his calluses caused discomfort as they caught on skin.
His lips found Izuku's neck, tasting and nibbling at the skin as his hunger overwhelmed exploration for the moment. He wanted to savor and devour all at once, anticipation a pounding in his chest every time he drew air. He wanted everything.
Izuku squirmed on his lap, soft sighs and moans falling from his lips as Katsuki's hands came to rest at his hips, fingers skimming under the waistband of Izuku's pants and boxers, finding more skin to tease. His lips trailed down Izuku's throat, leaving behind marks that stamped where he'd been, even if they would be hidden under costumes and school uniforms.
"Pants," he gasped, voice rough with desire. "Please."
Izuku pulled away, falling to the bed at Katsuki's side, stripping off the sweats he'd been wearing when he'd shown up earlier in the evening, letting them hit the floor with a soft thump. He turned back, and Katsuki blinked, distance giving him perspective, the ability to really look at Izuku's body.
Scars decorated skin that had been unblemished when they were children. So many that Katsuki couldn't possible count them all.
When had Izuku started collecting wounds and marks like Katsuki collected callouses? His quirk left his hands perpetually rough from burns and friction, he'd never thought twice about it. It had been part of his quirk since its development. The larger the explosion he'd learned to create, the more his hands had needed to endure. It was natural. He had a few burns on his body, each with a story attached as to how he'd gotten it, each a badge of honor as he'd learned to control his quirk with teeth-gritting determination.
"Kacchan?" Izuku's voice, soft with understanding, tinged with uncertainty. Katsuki wanted to tug him into his arms, wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, but he found that words and actions both failed him.
Izuku's skin was a map of his quirk too, with stories that Katsuki knew in abstract, but to which he had never before paid attention to. He knew the nerd had been in the nurse's office more often than anyone else in their class, knew that Izuku had pushed past his limits time and again, destroying his body every time. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.
But this was the first time Katsuki had really seen the sheer number of scars, never having allowed himself more than a casual glance at Izuku in the locker rooms when they were changing. He'd known they were there, some of Izuku's scars were hard to ignore, and Katsuki saw the ones on his hands all the time. But seeing them like this, in the intimacy of the bedroom, was entirely fucking different.
He wished he could say it was shocking, but thinking about it, it wasn't. He knew how Izuku had gained the marks that now decorated his skin. It was terrifying though, to know that Izuku had already destroyed himself so thoroughly in pursuit of his dream. That society demanded this sacrifice of all their heroes.
Large angry looking marks covered Izuku's arms and hands, commanding the most attention. But they weren't the only ones, simply the most apparent. There were other ones, thinner, quieter, crossing his chest and sides, leaving very little unblemished skin. There were several on his legs, not as many or as large, but still present, and Katsuki just fucking knew there were more on Izuku's back, he didn't need to see to know.
Katsuki recognized that several of the larger ones were from bones being broken over and over, muscles torn apart as Izuku pushed past every restriction with no regard for his body or health. The shorter teenager was too determined to show everyone that he would be a hero, the best hero, and was too goddamned selfless. Combined in one person, Katsuki supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the marks.
"Shit, Deku," he breathed, eyes tracing and memorizing every scar, fingers following moments behind, unable to meet Izuku's gaze. "How many of those are from me?"
It was the question he didn't want to hear the answer to, the reply any number of possibilities he didn't want to consider. He knew that he had been an ass to Izuku after gaining his quirk, as society and his ego pushed the two of them apart. He had been constantly reminded that he was meant for great things, that he was blessed and Izuku was damned, useless. He hadn't gone out of his way to lash out at the green-haired boy, who had once followed him everywhere, who had never stopped seeing him as amazing and worth being a hero. But he knew he'd caused more than his fair share of bruises when his temper and ego had gotten out control. Had he left Izuku with scars too?
At least, ones he could see?
"Kacchan, don't worry about it," Izuku murmured, running his hands down Katsuki's arms, lacing his fingers with one of Katsuki's hands, squeezing gently. "I don't think any of them are."
Katsuki heard the unspoken words, that Izuku didn't know for a fact that they weren't anymore. Not after all this time, so many scars overlapping and blurring together.
Guilt, unpleasant and heavy, settled over Katsuki, gnawing at him, leaving him more uncertain and off-kilter than he wanted to be, more than he ever showed the world. Half-formed words and emotions crowded his throat, heavy on his tongue, shoved at his lips. He wanted to apologize, but he had no idea how. He'd never had to apologize before, not for something that meant so much.
He'd hurt the one person in the world he didn't want to. Whether he'd left scars or not, it didn't change that it had made him look back at his actions, and find himself lacking. He'd told Izuku to jump off a fucking roof! His own inferiorities had made him think Izuku was looking down on him, his pride had pushed him on, his fears of failing flogging him, but that didn't change enough.
He didn't know of anyone else on the planet who would forgive him for what he'd done.
No one but Izuku, who Katsuki knew without asking, had already done so.
"No more scars," he grumbled, bringing the hand laced with his up to his lips, tracing the scars there gently. "Or you have to tell me how you get every single one."
"Kacchan, you know that heroes get scars all the time. You can't expect me to tell you about every single cut or scrape that might scar!"
"Why not?" he quirked an eyebrow, finally meeting Izuku's green eyes. "You could fucking ask me about mine too."
Yeah he'd startled the nerd with that one.
"...Well, that would be different," Izuku allowed after a long moment, eyes widening. "You're seriously going to be fine with me demanding to know where every burn or bump comes from?"
"Learn to control your damn quirk, nerd," Katsuki growled, tugging Izuku into his lap, arms wrapping around his waist. "But yeah, fine. You can ask me about every little bruise if it fucking makes you happy. Just don't be annoyed or fall apart when I snap."
"Ha. You don't scare me, Kacchan," Izuku smiled, shifting on Katsuki's lap. "I can handle you."
His breathing hitched, guilt pushed aside by Izuku's smile, like clouds before the sun. Which was fucking sappy and there was no way Katsuki would ever admit to having that thought out loud.
Izuku pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his waist, hands exploring Katsuki's chest, pausing at every scar that Katsuki had earned and given himself over years of intensive training, pressing a kiss to each one. Katsuki could hear the silent reminder that they weren't so different, even if Izuku's scars were earned in a more violent manner, even if they outnumbered Katsuki's own.
"Deku…" he moaned, arching into Izuku's touches, desire simmering in his blood again, skin humming with anticipation, nerves making his heart skip a beat. His erection strained against his boxers, heavy and hot.
"Mm?" Izuku hummed against his skin, sending chills up his spine.
With quick movements, and ignoring the noise of surprise from his boyfriend, Katsuki flipped them, pressing Izuku down into the mattress, meeting green eyes hazy with need, a little uncertainty still lurking in their depths. But he could fix that.
"I wonder what you have more of...scars or freckles." He smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to skin, mouth tracing over freckles on Izuku's left shoulder, up his neck.
"Why don't you count them, and… and see?" Izuku gasped, arching into the touch. His fingers wove into Katsuki's hair, gripping tight.
"I intend to."