A few days had passed, but the memory of Katsuki’s voice in the locker room was a live wire. “Next time, I’ll taste you.” Now, in the dim, dusty silence of the sports equipment storage room, the words made the ache between his legs the entire world. The floor was cold through his uniform pants as he shifted, but the heat radiating from his own core was a shameful, undeniable truth. Katsuki’s gaze was a physical weight, pinning him in place.

“You’re wet already.” Katsuki’s voice was flat, factual. He nudged a rolled-up gym mat with his foot, unrolling it with a soft thump onto the floor. “On your back.”

He Izuku’s hands trembled as he obeyed, lowering himself onto the blue vinyl. The smell of old rubber and polished wood filled his nose. Katsuki knelt between his spread legs, his movements efficient, predatory. He pushed Izuku’s school blazer open, then his white shirt, baring his freckled stomach and heaving chest. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of Izuku’s trousers and underwear, dragging them down his thighs in one slow, deliberate motion. The cool air hit his exposed pussy, and he flinched.

“Look at you,” Katsuki murmured, not a compliment, an assessment. He used his knees to push Izuku’s thighs wider, exposing him completely. “Dripping. For me.”

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku breathed, the secret name a plea and a confession.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked up, crimson and intense. “That’s right.” Then he lowered his head.

The first touch of his teacher’s mouth was a soft, devastating press against his inner thigh. Izuku gasped, back arching off the mat. Katsuki’s lips were hot, his tongue a rough, wet stripe that moved closer, and closer, until it finally, firmly, swiped through his soaked folds. Izuku cried out, a sharp, broken sound that echoed off the high shelves of basketballs.

“Oh god—Kacchan—”

Katsuki didn’t answer with words. He answered with his mouth. He licked into him, deep and slow, a thorough, claiming exploration. Izuku could feel the broad flat of his tongue, the slight scratch of stubble on his tender skin, the unbearable suction as Katsuki drew his swollen clit into his mouth and sucked.

“I love… I love your mouth,” Izuku babbled, hands fisting in the mat beneath him. “These lessons… I love them, I love—I love my Kacchan—”

Katsuki groaned against him, the vibration shooting straight to Izuku’s spine. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue fucking into him in a relentless rhythm, then circling his clit with pinpoint precision. Izuku’s hips jerked, seeking more, his moans climbing in pitch. The wet, filthy sounds of Katsuki eating him out filled the room, a soundtrack to his ruin.

“I’m gonna—Kacchan, I’m gonna—”

Katsuki pulled back just enough to growl, “Do it.” Then his mouth was back, sealing over him, sucking hard.

The orgasm ripped through Izuku, blinding and violent. He screamed, back bowing, as a gush of fluid soaked Katsuki’s chin and the mat beneath him. Katsuki didn’t stop. He drank him down, licking and sucking through the convulsions, until the sensitivity tipped into a sharp, overwhelming ache. Izuku sobbed, pushing weakly at the blond head. “T-too much, please—”

Katsuki ignored him. He shifted, gripping Izuku’s hips to hold him still, and went back in. His tongue was ruthless now, circling the oversensitive bundle of nerves, lapping up the fresh wetness already gathering. A second, weaker climax shuddered through Izuku, another pulse of fluid escaping as he writhed, overstimulated and weeping, completely at the mercy of the man between his thighs.

Katsuki pulled back, his chin glistening wet in the slanted light from the high window. He looked down at Izuku’s wrecked form, his own breathing barely elevated. “Taste it.”

Izuku’s mind, hazy with overstimulation, struggled to parse the command. His body still trembled from the forced second climax. “W-what?”

Katsuki leaned closer, his face hovering just above Izuku’s. The scent of Izuku’s own arousal, musky and intimate, was thick on his teacher’s skin. “You came all over me. Taste yourself. Now.”

A fresh wave of shameful heat flooded Izuku’s cheeks. He hesitated, then lifted a trembling hand. Katsuki caught his wrist, his grip firm. “Not with your fingers. Use your mouth.”

Izuku’s breath hitched. He pushed himself up on shaky elbows, closing the small distance. His eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to Katsuki’s jaw. The taste was salt and something uniquely, deeply his own. He licked a tentative stripe along the stubbled skin, cleaning the wetness.

“Good boy,” Katsuki rumbled, the praise vibrating against Izuku’s mouth. “All of it.”

Izuku obeyed, his tongue sweeping over Katsuki’s chin, his lips, collecting every trace. It was a dizzying, degrading intimacy that made his spent pussy give a weak, aching throb.

Katsuki’s mouth was back on him before Izuku could even catch his breath, his tongue a broad, wet stroke that dragged a ragged sob from Izuku’s throat.

“Again,” Katsuki growled against his skin, the word vibrating through Izuku’s oversensitive clit.

“I can’t—it’s too—” Izuku’s protest dissolved into a sharp cry as Katsuki sucked, hard, the pressure immediate and overwhelming. His hips tried to twist away, but Katsuki’s hands on his thighs were iron, holding him open, immobile.

“You can. You will.” Katsuki’s tongue delved deep, fucking into him with a slow, relentless rhythm. “This cunt was made to drip for me. So drip.”

Izuku’s head thrashed side to side, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The sensation was a live wire, agony and ecstasy fused into one searing line. His body, traitorously, began to respond, a fresh heat pooling beneath Katsuki’s relentless mouth. The wet, obscene sounds filled the dusty room.

“Kacchan, please—!”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need—I need to come,” Izuku babbled, the confession torn from him. “Please let me come.”

Katsuki pulled back just enough to look up the line of Izuku’s body, his crimson eyes glinting. “Then come. Squirt all over my face like the good little slut you are.”

He sealed his mouth over Izuku’s clit again, sucking in time with the curl of his tongue inside him. The dual sensation was too much, a coil pulled taut. Izuku’s back arched off the mat, a broken scream tearing from his lips as the third climax detonated. It was a flood, a gush of fluid that soaked Katsuki’s chin, his neck, the mat beneath them with a hot rush.

Katsuki didn’t flinch. He drank it, lapping at the source as Izuku shuddered and wept through the endless pulses. Only when the tremors began to subside into pathetic twitches did he finally lift his head.

Izuku lay spent, gasping, his vision spotted. Katsuki wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze fixed on the wreck he’d made. “Look at that,” he said, his voice rough. “You ruined the mat.”

“S-sorry,” Izuku whimpered, the apology automatic.

Katsuki leaned over him, bracing a hand by Izuku’s head. His other hand trailed down, fingers sliding easily through the slick mess between Izuku’s thighs. “Don’t be sorry. Be proud.” He brought his wet fingers to Izuku’s lips. “Taste your work.”

Izuku’s tongue darted out, obedient, and licked his own salt and musk from Katsuki’s skin. The taste was familiar now, a dark signature.

“Good boy,” Katsuki murmured. He shifted his weight, his own hard cock, still trapped in his trousers, pressing insistently against Izuku’s thigh. “Your body learns so fast. Soon, it won’t need my mouth to trigger that reflex. It’ll just be my cock.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, a fresh, dizzying thrill cutting through the haze. “Y-yours?”

“Mine.” Katsuki’s thumb stroked Izuku’s swollen lower lip. “Every greedy, dripping part of you. It’s all being shaped for me.” He lowered his head, his breath hot against Izuku’s ear. “Say it.”

Izuku’s voice was a shattered whisper. “I’m… I’m being shaped for you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki kissed him then, deep and claiming, letting Izuku taste himself on his teacher’s tongue. It was a possession, a seal. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with a promise that was also a threat. “The lesson’s over. Get dressed.”

He stood up, turning away to adjust himself, his back a broad, untouchable line. Izuku pushed himself up on trembling arms, the cold air shocking against his wet skin. He fumbled with his clothes, his mind and body humming with a single, terrifying truth: he was already ruined for anyone else.

Izuku’s fingers fumbled with the button of his uniform pants, his body still humming from the violation. The air felt too cold on his damp skin. “K-Kacchan?”

Katsuki was tucking his shirt back into his trousers, his movements precise, his back still turned. “What.”

“When… when is the next lesson?” The question was a whisper, soaked in shame and a need so deep it felt like a hollow in his bones.

Katsuki turned, his crimson eyes slicing through the dusty light. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. “Eager?”

Izuku flushed, looking down at his own trembling hands. He couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Your body needs time to recover. To remember.” Katsuki stepped closer, the scent of Izuku’s own arousal still clinging to him. He cupped Izuku’s jaw, forcing his head up. “But your mind… your mind should be working. I want you to think about it. Every day. What my mouth felt like. What my cock is going to feel like.”

“I already do,” Izuku breathed, the confession leaving him in a rush. “I think about it all the time.”

“Good.” Katsuki’s thumb stroked over Izuku’s swollen bottom lip. “Then think about this. The next lesson isn’t in a classroom. Or a storage room.”

Izuku’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Where?”

“My apartment.” Katsuki’s voice dropped to a low, intimate growl. “Saturday. I’ll text you the address. You’ll come after dark. You’ll use the service entrance.”

The reality of it—a teacher’s home, a secret visit—sent a jolt of pure, terrifying thrill through Izuku’s veins. This was a line, solid and real, and he was being told to cross it. “O-okay.”

“You’ll be ready.” It wasn’t a question. Katsuki’s hand slid down, palming the front of Izuku’s pants, feeling the dampness that had already seeped through the fabric. Izuku gasped, his hips jerking forward into the touch. “See? Your body knows. It’s anticipating. Training even when I’m not there.”

“It’s for you,” Izuku mumbled, the words a mantra now. “It’s all for you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s grip tightened, a sharp, possessive pressure that made Izuku’s knees weak. “Damn right it is.” He released him, leaving Izuku swaying. “You’re a mess.”

He could still taste himself on his tongue, a dark, salty ghost. When he was done, he stood there, uniform wrinkled, hair a wild green nest, looking utterly and completely ruined.

Katsuki surveyed him, a craftsman inspecting his work. He reached out, not to touch, but to pluck a piece of lint from Izuku’s shoulder. “Walk out five minutes after I do. Don’t look at anyone. Don’t speak to anyone. Go straight home.”

“Yes, Kacchan.”

Katsuki turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoed in the silent, scent-heavy room. Izuku was alone with the smell of rubber mats, old sweat, and his own spent pleasure. He looked at the stained mat on the floor, the evidence of what he’d become. A hot, shameful pride curled in his gut.

He counted to three hundred, his body still throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Then he slipped out into the empty hallway, the echo of his own soft footsteps the only sound. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t speak. He went straight home, his mind already racing forward, through the dark, to a service entrance, and whatever lay beyond it.