The air in the new tent was thick and still, heavy with the scent of their skin and the crushed grass beneath the floor. Izuku lay on his back, the sleeping bag rucked down around his hips, his chest bare and freckled in the low light of the lantern. Katsuki knelt over him, a shadow blocking the glow, one rough hand pinning Izuku’s wrist to the mat beside his head.

“Tell me,” Katsuki said, his voice a graveled command. His other hand traced the line of Izuku’s jaw, his thumb brushing over the boy’s bottom lip. “Another one. Where were we?”

Izuku’s breath hitched. He swallowed, his green eyes wide and fixed on his father’s face. “The… the hardware store. You were buying lumber. I was fifteen. You bent over the flatbed cart to check the grain and your shirt rode up. I could see… all the way down the back of your jeans.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to put my hand there. Right on the small of your back. Where your spine dips. I wanted everyone to see me touch you there, so they’d know.”

Katsuki’s eyes darkened. “Know what, kid?”

“That you were mine,” Izuku whispered, the words trembling out of him. “That even then, you were mine.”

A low, rough sound escaped Katsuki’s throat. He leaned down and kissed him, hard and consuming, his tongue claiming Izuku’s mouth. When he broke away, both of them were breathing raggedly. “You’re a sick little fantasy,” Katsuki murmured, but his hand was already moving, sliding down Izuku’s stomach, beneath the waistband of his briefs. “Aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Izuku gasped, arching off the mat as his father’s fingers found his slick, hot cunt. “Yes, I am.”

Katsuki worked him open with two thick fingers, his gaze locked on Izuku’s face, watching every twitch and flutter of his eyelashes. Izuku’s hips rolled, seeking more, his tiny tits heaving. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, I need—”

“I know what you need.”

Katsuki shifted, yanking Izuku’s briefs down his thick thighs and off. He pushed his own sweatpants and boxers just below his hips, freeing his heavy, uncut cock. It stood angry and flushed against his stomach, leaking steadily. He positioned himself between Izuku’s spread legs, the broad head of his cock nudging against Izuku’s soaked, clenching entrance.

Izuku whined, high and desperate. “Daddy, now—”

Katsuki pushed in.

It was a slow, brutal, unforgiving stretch. Izuku cried out, his back bowing, his nails digging into Katsuki’s forearms. Katsuki hissed, his own muscles corded with the effort of control, feeling every tight, velvet inch of his son’s cunt accept him. He bottomed out, their hips flush, and paused, sweat beading on his temple. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word full of awe and ruin.

Then he began to move.

It was a hard, driving rhythm, each thrust punching a wet, obscene sound from where they were joined. The tent filled with the smell of sex, the slap of skin, their ragged gasps. Izuku chanted a broken litany of “yes” and “more” and “Daddy, right there,” his legs hooked over Katsuki’s back, his hole fluttering wildly around the thick intrusion.

Katsuki fucked him like he was trying to imprint the shape of himself into Izuku’s bones. He dropped his forehead to Izuku’s, their breaths mingling, his red eyes burning into green. “This what you dreamed about?” he gritted out, his hips piston-ing. “In the fucking hardware store?”

“Yes—God—yes—”

The sound was foreign, electronic, a shrill chirping that sliced through the haze of heat and noise.

It came from the pocket of Katsuki’s discarded jeans, tangled near the tent door.

They both froze. Katsuki was buried to the hilt, Izuku’s cunt pulsing around him. The phone chirped again. And again.

Izuku’s eyes went wide with dawning horror. “Is that—”

“Shit,” Katsuki growled. He knew the ringtone. He knew she wouldn’t stop. He stayed buried inside the exquisite, clinging heat of his son, not moving. The phone rang a fourth time.

“You have to answer it,” Izuku whispered, his voice thin. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. With a snarl of frustration, he leaned back, one hand braced on the mat beside Izuku’s head, the other fumbling for his jeans. He dragged them closer, dug the phone out. The screen glared up at him: INKO. He looked down at Izuku, whose face was pale, his lips kiss-swollen, his father’s cock still sheathed inside him.

Katsuki swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Hey.” His voice was a low, controlled rumble, betraying nothing but the faintest breathlessness.

“Katsuki! There you are. I was starting to worry. You didn’t call last night.” Inko’s voice was bright, concerned, filling the charged air of the tent.

“Service was shit,” he said, his eyes locked on Izuku’s. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled his hips back an inch, then slid home again. Izuku’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp, his hands flying up to cover it.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re okay. How’s the trip? How’s Izuku?”

“He’s good.” Katsuki began to move again, a shallow, relentless rhythm, his cock gliding in and out of Izuku’s dripping cunt. The wet sounds were obscenely loud to him. He watched a tear leak from the corner of Izuku’s eye. “Tired. We pushed hard today. Set up a new spot.”

Izuku bit down on his own knuckle, his body shaking with the effort to stay silent, his hips meeting each of his father’s thrusts. His cunt clenched, a greedy, involuntary spasm.

Katsuki grunted, a soft, strained sound. “Yeah,” he said into the phone, his voice tighter now. “Yeah, the scenery’s great.”

“You sound a little winded, honey.”

“Just… getting settled. Had to move some gear around.” He punctuated the lie with a deeper, harder thrust that made Izuku’s eyes roll back. The boy’s other hand scrabbled at Katsuki’s wrist, holding on like he was drowning.

“Well, don’t overdo it. Tell Izuku I love him. I miss you both.”

“I will.” Katsuki’s pace was becoming erratic, his control fraying. He could feel his climax coiling, low and urgent. Izuku was a quivering mess beneath him, his own orgasm clearly hovering just out of reach. “Love you, too. Gotta go.”

“Okay, drive safe tomorrow. Call me when—”

He ended the call and dropped the phone. It thudded onto the nylon floor. The silence that followed was absolute, save for their panting and the slick, rhythmic noise of their bodies.

Katsuki looked down at his son. At the tears tracking through his freckles. At the absolute wreck of him.

“Now,” Katsuki whispered, his voice shattered. “Come for me. Now.”

Izuku’s body obeyed before his mind could, a sharp, broken cry tearing from his throat as his cunt clenched and then released, a hot gush of fluid soaking Katsuki’s cock and their joined hips. The sensation was electric, overwhelming, a raw pulse of pleasure that wiped every thought clean. Katsuki groaned, a deep, shattered sound, and drove into him once, twice more before stilling, his own release flooding Izuku’s depths in thick, claiming pulses.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the wet, spent heat between them. Katsuki stayed buried inside, his forehead resting against Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku’s hands trembled where they clung to his father’s back.

“She heard,” Izuku whispered, his voice wrecked.

Katsuki didn’t move. “No, she didn’t.”

“She heard you. You grunted.”

“I was moving gear.” Katsuki’s voice was flat, hollow. He finally pulled out, and the sound was obscenely wet in the quiet tent. Izuku flinched at the sudden emptiness, at the hot trickle that immediately followed.

Katsuki rolled onto his back beside him, one arm thrown over his eyes. The space between them was inches, but it felt like a canyon. The tent smelled of sex and sweat and shame.

“I came while you were talking to her,” Izuku said, the words small.

“I know.”

“Does that make me a monster?”

Katsuki was silent for a beat. Then he let out a short, sharp breath that wasn’t a laugh. “Yeah. And it makes me a bigger one.” He dropped his arm, turning his head to look at Izuku. His red eyes were exhausted. “Because I liked it. I liked her voice in my ear while I was buried in you. I liked the risk.”

Izuku turned onto his side, facing him. His green eyes were huge in the dim light. “Really?”

“Don’t sound so hopeful, you little shit.” Katsuki reached out, his calloused thumb wiping a stray tear from Izuku’s cheek. The gesture was unbearably tender. “It’s fucked up.”

“Everything we do is fucked up.” Izuku caught his wrist, holding it there. “But we keep doing it.”

Katsuki studied him. The freckles. The swollen mouth. The trust in his eyes that felt like a knife in Katsuki’s gut. “Your mom asked how you were. I said you were good.”

“I am good.” Izuku’s voice cracked. “Right now, I am.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He pulled his hand back and sat up, the muscles of his back rigid. The evidence of what they’d done glistened on Izuku’s thighs. “Clean up,” he said, his tone shifting, dropping back into that familiar gravel. “Then get over here.”

Izuku moved slowly, his limbs feeling liquid and heavy. He used the corner of a discarded t-shirt to wipe himself, his skin hypersensitive. When he was done, he crawled to where Katsuki sat propped against a pile of backpacks. He settled between his father’s spread legs, his back to Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki’s arms came around him, pulling him close, so Izuku’s head rested under his chin.

“There was another one,” Izuku whispered, his voice muffled against Katsuki’s chest. The arms around him tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Another what.”

“Fantasy. From… from around the same time. Fourteen.” Izuku could feel the steady, strong thump of his father’s heart against his back. “It was about Mom.”

Katsuki went very still. The silence in the tent thickened. “Explain.”

Izuku swallowed, his throat tight. “It wasn’t about her like… that. It was about you. And her. I’d hear you. At night.”

“Hear us.” Katsuki’s voice was flat.

“Your room was down the hall. The door would be closed. But I’d hear… the bed. And her. She’d make these little sounds.” Izuku’s own breathing was getting shallow. “I’d lie in my bed and I’d imagine… I was her.”

Katsuki’s hand, which had been resting on Izuku’s stomach, spasmed. His fingers dug into the soft skin there.

“I’d imagine it was me in your bed. With you. That it was my… cunt you were fucking. That it was my sounds she was hearing.” The words tumbled out now, a hushed, frantic stream. “I’d touch myself and think about you thinking it was her, but it was me. That she was just… a placeholder. For me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Katsuki breathed, the words a shocked exhale against Izuku’s hair. His cock, which had been soft against Izuku’s lower back, began to thicken, a hot, insistent pressure.

Izuku felt it. A dizzying rush of power and shame flooded him. “You like that,” he whispered, not a question.

Katsuki didn’t answer. Instead, he gripped Izuku’s hip and roughly turned him, so they were face to face on the sleeping bag. His red eyes burned in the dimness. “You thought about me fucking your mother, and you got wet.”

“Yes.”

“You pretended to be her.”

“Yes.”

Katsuki’s hand slid between Izuku’s thighs, his fingers finding the slick heat there without hesitation. Izuku gasped, his hips jerking. “Still wet,” Katsuki growled. “Telling me this, and you’re still dripping.”

“It’s you,” Izuku choked out. “It’s always you.”

Katsuki kissed him, a devouring, brutal kiss that tasted like salt and possession. He shifted, his body settling over Izuku’s, his heavy erection sliding through the wetness between Izuku’s legs, not entering, just painting himself with it. The drag was electric, maddening.

“You wanted her to know,” Katsuki muttered against his mouth, his hips rolling in that slow, torturous grind. “Even back then. You wanted her to hear you getting fucked by her husband.”

Izuku could only nod, his nails biting into Katsuki’s shoulders. The blunt head of his father’s cock caught at his entrance with each pass, a promise, a threat.

Izuku’s hands shoved hard against Katsuki’s chest, a burst of frantic strength that rolled them over. He straddled his father’s hips, his own slickness coating Katsuki’s stomach, and without ceremony, he sank down, taking the thick, hard length inside him in one desperate, gasping plunge. “I want to be her,” he panted, his green eyes wild, his curls damp with sweat. “I want to be Mom.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki grunted, his hands flying to Izuku’s hips to steady them both, his head tipping back against the sleeping bag. “Izuku—”

“No,” Izuku cried, his voice breaking as he began to move, riding him with rough, unpracticed urgency. “I want to be the one you come home to. I want to be the one you fuck in your bed every night. I want to marry you, Daddy.”

Katsuki’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Izuku’s thighs. “You’re out of your mind.”

“I want to have your babies,” Izuku sobbed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths, his body bouncing, taking Katsuki deep. “I want you to put them in me. I want a big belly with your kid in it and I want everyone to know it’s yours.”

“Stop it.”

“I want to fuck you in the kitchen. I want to suck your cock in the living room. I want to be your lover in public, I want people to see you touch me and know, I want—” His rhythm faltered, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the confession tearing out of him. “I want to be your wife. I want to be her so bad it fucking hurts.”

Katsuki surged up, wrapping an arm around Izuku’s back to crush him close, his other hand fisting in the green curls. He silenced him with a brutal kiss, swallowing the sobs. He took over the pace, driving up into him from below, each thrust jolting a sharp cry from Izuku’s throat. “You have me,” Katsuki growled against his mouth. “Right now, you have me. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s never enough,” Izuku wailed, clinging to his shoulders, his body tightening, coiling. “It’s never going to be enough, I want everything, I want—”

His words dissolved into a choked scream as his orgasm ripped through him, a violent, shaking wave that clenched viscously around Katsuki’s cock. Heat gushed, soaking them both, Izuku’s body convulsing through the pulses. But the sounds he made weren’t just pleasure; they were raw, wounded sobs, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks, dripping onto Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki held him through it, his own hips stilling, his breath coming in harsh pants. He watched the tears fall, his expression carved from stone. When the last tremors subsided and Izuku collapsed against him, a boneless, weeping weight, Katsuki carefully lowered them back to the ground.

Izuku cried, his face buried in the crook of Katsuki’s neck, his shoulders shaking. The tears were hot and silent now, the kind that came from a deep, broken place. Katsuki’s arms came around him, one hand cradling the back of his head. He didn’t speak. He just held him, his own cock still buried deep inside the warm, weeping clench of his son’s body.

After a long time, the quiet hiccups subsided. The only sound was the rustle of nylon and their shared breath. Izuku’s voice was a wrecked whisper against Katsuki’s skin. “I mean it.”

“I know,” Katsuki said, his voice low and gravelly. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t agree. He just held him tighter in the dark, humid truth of the tent.