The world outside the car window was suddenly, brutally real. A big Walmart superstore, annoyingly busy and hot asphalt cutting through the recycled AC. Izuku’s voice, soft and deliberate, broke the silence that had held for the last fifty miles. “We need a bigger tent.”

Katsuki’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. He didn’t look over. He stared at the concrete island, the buzzing fluorescent lights. The request wasn’t about shelter. It was a public vow, a coded purchase that would make the bored clerk an unwitting witness to their sin. Buying it meant admitting the future—their new, monstrous world—to the daylight. “No.”

“The one we have is too small now.” Izuku’s fingers picked at a thread on his jeans. His voice was steady, a quiet force. “You said it yourself. We need space.”

“We don’t.” Katsuki’s jaw worked. The denial was gravel, grinding itself to dust. He could feel Izuku’s gaze on his profile, patient and unbearable. “We finish the trip. We go home. We figure it out. We don’t… buy a fucking tent for it.”

“What’s the plan, then?” Izuku asked. No mumble. Just a clean, sharp question. “You fuck me in our tiny tent for two more weeks, getting angrier every time your knees hit the nylon? You stop touching me altogether? Which one?”

Katsuki finally turned his head. His storm-colored eyes were wide, a crack in the armor. The truth sat between them, a third passenger, sweating in the Utah heat. He looked at his son—the green curls, the freckles, the mouth that had gasped ‘Daddy’ into his skin—and the last of his resistance bled out. He killed the engine. The silence that followed was louder than the road noise had ever been.

Katsuki’s hands gripped the steering wheel again, the knuckles whitening. He stared straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw working. A war, silent and final, raged behind his eyes. He swallowed, the sound thick. “Tell me what we’re buying.”

Izuku’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected the surrender to sound like that—like gravel and glass. “A tent. A big one. A family-sized one.”

“Family-sized,” Katsuki echoed, the word a hollow joke. He turned his head, his red eyes cutting through the stale air of the car. “How big, Izuku?”

“Four-person. Maybe six.” Izuku’s fingers stilled on his jeans. “So we can… stretch out.”

Katsuki’s laugh was a short, sharp crack. “Stretch out. Right.” He pushed his door open. The Utah heat flooded in, a dry, punishing wall. “Come on then. Let’s go make our bed.”

The automatic doors hissed, engulfing them in a wave of sterile, air-conditioned light. The store was cavernous, bustling with families and bored-looking employees. A child screamed somewhere in produce. Katsuki felt every eye like a physical touch. He walked stiffly, his broad shoulders tense, heading for the outdoor section as if marching to a firing squad.

Izuku kept pace just behind him, his own senses heightened. He could smell the cheap plastic, the popcorn from the entrance, the faint trace of his father’s sweat cutting through it all. His pussy gave a low, insistent throb, a traitorous pulse that had no place here. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper.

“That one,” Izuku said, his voice barely above a murmur. He pointed to a large green dome tent on the middle shelf. The box showed a happy, generic family of four smiling beside it.

Katsuki didn’t look at the picture. He hefted the box, his biceps straining against his t-shirt. It was heavy. Substantial. A thing built for a future. “This it?”

“Yeah.”

Katsuki turned, the box held against his chest like a shield. “Anything else? Air mattress? Separate sleeping bags?” The question was a barb, meant to wound them both.

Izuku met his gaze, his green eyes wide and unflinching. “We have bags. We don’t need an air mattress.” The implication hung there, louder than the store’s muzak. *We don’t need separation.*

Katsuki turned on his heel and walked toward the registers, the box making him a beacon. Izuku followed, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was it. The public vow. The bored cashier, a woman with tired eyes and a blue vest, would scan this box that screamed *family* and have no idea she was ringing up their sin.

“Just this,” Katsuki said, his voice a low rumble as he set the box on the conveyor belt. It sounded like a confession.

The cashier scanned it. The beep was obscenely loud. “Big trip?” she asked, not really looking at them.

Katsuki’s hand, resting on the belt, twitched. Izuku watched the tendons in his forearm cord tight. “Yeah,” Katsuki ground out. “A trip with my son.”

The word ‘son’ landed between them, hot and heavy. The cashier nodded, uninterested. “Ninety-seven, fifty-three.”

Katsuki shoved cash at her, took the receipt, and lifted the box again. He didn’t wait for Izuku. He strode through the sliding doors back into the blinding parking lot heat, the new tent held against his chest like a stolen thing.

The tires ate up the highway, Katsuki pushing the SUV well past the speed limit. The new tent was a silent, heavy presence in the back, still in its box. Izuku stared straight ahead, his thighs pressed together, the ache between them a constant, wet hum. The desert blurred past. Neither spoke. The only sound was the engine and the rush of wind.

“Next exit,” Katsuki said, his voice rough from silence. He didn’t look at the GPS. He just knew.

They turned onto a gravel road, dust pluming behind them. The campsite was empty, just a concrete pad and a ring of stones under a canopy of pines. Katsuki killed the engine. The sudden quiet was deafening.

“Out,” he said, already opening his door.

They worked in a frantic, wordless harmony. Katsuki ripped the box open, scattering plastic and cardboard. Izuku spread the ground tarp, his hands shaking. The poles clicked together, the nylon shell snapping taut as they raised it—a green dome, huge and alien in the small clearing. A family-sized tent. Theirs.

Katsuki tossed their old sleeping bags inside. He stood at the entrance, breathing hard, his back to Izuku. “Get in.”

Izuku crawled in. The space was cavernous compared to the old one. He could stand up. He did, turning just as Katsuki ducked inside and sealed the flap. The world shrank to the muted green light filtering through the nylon.

Katsuki looked at him. His storm-colored eyes were dark, hungry. “You got your big tent.”

“Yeah.” Izuku’s voice was a whisper.

“So stretch out.”

It wasn’t an invitation. It was a command. Izuku slowly lay back on the piled sleeping bags, his heart hammering against his ribs. He watched as Katsuki knelt, his movements deliberate, at his feet.

Katsuki’s rough hands grabbed his sneakers, yanked them off, then his socks. His fingers curled around Izuku’s ankles. His thumbs pressed into the bones. “This what you wanted? All this space?”

“Yes.”

“To do what, Izuku?” His hands slid up, under the cuffs of Izuku’s jeans, tracing his calves. The calluses scraped against sensitive skin.

“For you,” Izuku gasped, his back arching. “For… this.”

Katsuki’s expression didn’t change. He unbuttoned Izuku’s jeans, pulled them down his thighs with a single, rough tug. The cool air hit Izuku’s soaked panties. He whimpered.

“Look at you,” Katsuki muttered, his voice low and thick. He hooked his fingers in the cotton and pulled them aside. Izuku’s pussy was exposed, pink and glistening in the dim light. “Dripping. In the middle of the goddamn day. Just from buying a tent.”

“From you,” Izuku corrected, his hips lifting off the bags. “Always from you.”

Katsuki leaned down. He didn’t kiss him. He breathed him in, his nose brushing Izuku’s curls. “Fuck,” he groaned, the word shuddering out of him. Then his mouth was on him, hot and ruthless.

Izuku cried out, his hands flying to Katsuki’s spiked hair. His father’s tongue was a flat, demanding pressure, licking a broad stripe through his slit before circling his clit. The wet sound was obscene, louder than anything in the quiet forest. Katsuki ate him like a man starved, his stubble scraping the soft skin of Izuku’s inner thighs.

“Dad—Daddy, please—”

Katsuki pulled back, his mouth slick. “Please what?” He pushed two fingers inside Izuku without warning, curling them. Izuku sobbed, his cunt clenching tight around the intrusion. “You wanted space. Here it is. My mouth on you. My fingers in you. No one to hear you scream.” He scissored his fingers, stretching him. “This enough room for you, son?”

The word, filthy and tender, broke him. Izuku nodded frantically, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Yes. More. I need more.”

Katsuki stood, fumbling with his own belt. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the foreskin already drawn back. He was leaking. He gripped himself, gave a rough stroke, his eyes locked on Izuku’s wrecked form. “Turn over.”

Izuku scrambled onto his hands and knees. The sleeping bags shifted under him. He felt exposed, presented. He heard the rip of a foil packet—Katsuki had thought ahead, this time—and then the slick sound of him rolling the condom on.

“No,” Izuku whined, the sound high and petulant. He twisted, one hand flying back to cover his pussy, his fingers splaying over his own wetness. “Don’t put that on.”

Katsuki froze, the condom half-rolled. “What?”

“Take it off.” Izuku looked over his shoulder, his green eyes wide and defiant. “I said no.”

“Izuku.” Katsuki’s voice was a warning rumble. “We’re not doing this without one. Not after—”

“Not after what? You already came in me.” Izuku’s breath hitched. “We haven’t used one at all. I’m not about to change things now.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He stared at the latex in his hand. “It’s reckless.”

“It’s real.” Izuku pushed his hips back, his hand still a futile shield. “I want it real. I want you. Not a piece of plastic.”

“You don’t get to make that call.”

“Then don’t fuck me.” Izuku’s voice broke. “Fuck your condom. See if it screams for you.”

The air in the tent went static. Katsuki’s eyes burned into him. Slowly, he peeled the condom off, the latex snapping softly. He tossed it aside, his cock jutting, angry and slick at the tip. “You’re a selfish brat.”

“I’m your son,” Izuku breathed, and it wasn’t a protest. It was a dare. “Your son doesn’t want a condom. Your son wants his Daddy’s cum.”

Katsuki made a sound like he’d been punched. He grabbed Izuku’s hip, his fingers digging in. “You love it that much? The thought of it?”

“I taste it in my sleep.” Izuku was crying now, quiet tears tracking through his freckles. “I dream about it. I want it inside me where it belongs. Please.”

Katsuki leaned over him, his chest pressing against Izuku’s back. His lips brushed the shell of Izuku’s ear. “You’re gonna ruin us.”

“We’re already ruined.” Izuku turned his head, caught Katsuki’s mouth in a messy, desperate kiss. “Ruin me more.”

Katsuki broke the kiss. He positioned himself, the broad, leaking head of his cock nudging against Izuku’s soaked entrance. “This what you begged for in the store? My bare cock in your bare cunt?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I want your cock in my pussy,” Izuku gasped, pushing back against the pressure. “I want your cum in my son pussy. I want it to take.”

Katsuki drove into him.

The stretch was breathtaking, a white-hot fullness that carved a moan from Izuku’s throat. There was no barrier, no whisper-thin separation. Just heat and skin and the visceral, wet slide of him pushing deep. Katsuki buried himself to the hilt and stopped, his whole body trembling. “Fuck,” he gritted out, his forehead dropping between Izuku’s shoulder blades.

Izuku clenched around him, milking the thick intrusion. “Feel it?”

“I feel everything.” Katsuki’s voice was shredded. He pulled back and thrust again, a slow, devastating roll of his hips. The sound was obscenely wet, a slick, intimate noise that filled the tent. “You’re so fucking open for me.”

“Made for you,” Izuku babbled, his fingers clawing at the sleeping bag. “Daddy, Daddy, it’s so deep—”

Katsuki set a ruthless pace, each thrust punching the air from Izuku’s lungs. His hands spanned Izuku’s waist, holding him in place, owning the space he filled. Sweat beaded on his back, gleamed in the hollow of his spine. The tent held the smell of them—sex, sweat, the pine from outside, and the hot, metallic scent of his own pre-come leaking into Izuku’s body.

“Gonna come inside you,” Katsuki growled, his rhythm faltering, growing ragged. “Gonna pump you so full you feel it for days.”

“Do it,” Izuku sobbed, his own orgasm coiling tight, sparked by the brutal, perfect friction and the filthy promise. “Mark me. Make me yours.”

Katsuki’s thrusts lost all rhythm, becoming a frantic, deep pounding as his orgasm tore through him. A guttural groan ripped from his chest, and he slammed home, burying himself as deep as he could go. Izuku felt the hot, sudden pulse inside him, a thick flood that painted his insides, and the sensation triggered his own release. He came with a shattered cry, his pussy clenching violently around Katsuki’s cock, and a stream of clear fluid gushed from him, soaking the sleeping bag beneath them with a sound like rain.

Katsuki collapsed over him, his full weight pressing Izuku into the wet fabric. His breath was a ragged, hot gust against Izuku’s neck. He didn’t pull out. They stayed locked, joined, Katsuki’s cock still twitching inside him, spilling the last of his release.

“Christened it,” Izuku mumbled into the bag, his voice hoarse and sated. A hysterical little giggle bubbled up. “Our new home.”

Katsuki didn’t laugh. He turned his head, his lips brushing Izuku’s damp shoulder. “You squirted all over it.”

“You filled me up in it.” Izuku shifted, wincing at the sensitivity, feeling the warm trickle start to escape him. “It’s ours now. For real.”

Slowly, Katsuki withdrew. The sound was obscenely wet. He rolled onto his back beside Izuku, staring up at the dark green ceiling of the family-sized tent. His cock lay spent and sticky on his thigh. “A real fucking home,” he said, the words flat.

Izuku turned onto his side to face him. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of Katsuki’s jaw. “You said it yourself. We finish the trip. We go home. This…” He patted the damp sleeping bag. “This is the trip now.”

“I bought a tent.” Katsuki’s red eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “At a Walmart. I told the kid at the register it was for me and my son. I loaded it into the car like any other dad. And now it smells like my son’s cunt and my cum.”

“It smells like us,” Izuku corrected softly. He propped himself up on an elbow. “You ashamed?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate, blunt. Katsuki finally looked at him. “Aren’t you?”

Izuku thought about it. He felt the ache between his legs, the lingering fullness, the cooling wetness on his skin. “No. I’m… I’m glad it’s real. That it’s in here with us. That we brought it inside from the store. It makes it true.”

Katsuki reached over, his calloused thumb wiping at a tear track Izuku hadn’t realized was there. “You’re a messed up kid.”

“I’m your messed up kid.” Izuku caught his wrist, held it. “And you still want me. You just came inside me again.”

A long, heavy silence stretched. The sounds of the campground filtered in—a distant car door, the cry of a bird. Normal life, continuing just outside the thin nylon walls.