The zipper of the tent closed with a sound like a final breath. The world outside—the pines, the stars, the distant rush of the river—ceased to exist. Inside, there was only the soft orange glow of the lantern and the scent of their own heat.

Katsuki didn’t speak. His hands, those rough, calloused things, came up to frame Izuku’s face. His thumbs brushed over the freckles on his cheeks. He was looking at him like he was something precious and terrifying.

“Tell me to stop,” Katsuki said, his voice a low scrape in the quiet.

“No.”

“Izuku.”

“I said no.” Izuku’s own hands came up, gripping Katsuki’s wrists. Not to pull them away. To hold them there. “Please.”

Katsuki kissed him. It wasn’t like the desperate clash by the fire. This was slow. Deep. A claiming that started at the mouth and seeped downward, warming Izuku’s blood, making his head feel light. Katsuki tasted like coffee and regret and want, so much want it made Izuku whimper into his mouth.

He guided Izuku down onto the piled sleeping bags, the nylon rustling loudly beneath them. Katsuki followed him down, covering him, his weight a solid, anchoring heat. He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down Izuku’s jaw, his throat, pausing where his pulse hammered.

“You’re shaking,” Katsuki murmured against his skin.

“I’m not scared.”

“Liar.” But Katsuki said it softly, almost fondly. His hands went to the hem of Izuku’s shirt, pushing it up slowly, exposing the pale plane of his stomach, the delicate curve of his ribs.

The cool air hit Izuku’s skin, pebbling it, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Katsuki’s gaze. He watched as his father’s eyes tracked over him—over the small, soft swell of his chest, the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel.

“So fucking pretty,” Katsuki breathed, and the raw awe in his voice made Izuku’s throat tighten.

Katsuki bent his head and put his mouth on him. Not on his lips, but on the soft skin just below his collarbone. He sucked, hard enough to bloom a mark, and Izuku cried out, back arching off the groundsheet. The sensation was a lightning bolt—sharp pleasure-pain that shot straight to his core, making his pussy clench helplessly around nothing.

“Daddy—” The word tore out of him, ragged and unbidden.

Katsuki froze. His entire body went rigid above him.

Izuku’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t meant to say it. It was just what he’d always called him when he was small and scared or wanted comfort. It felt natural. Right.

Katsuki lifted his head. His stormy eyes were black in the lantern light, pupils blown wide. His breathing had gone ragged. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“Say that again,” he growled.

Izuku swallowed. “Daddy.”

A low groan ripped from Katsuki’s chest. It was a sound of pure defeat and pure hunger. He crashed their mouths together again, this kiss brutal and consuming. One of his big hands slid down Izuku’s side, over the curve of his hip, gripping the thick flesh of his thigh hard enough to bruise.

“You have no idea,” Katsuki panted against his mouth between biting kisses. “No idea what that does to me.”

He rocked his hips down once, a hard grind against Izuku’s thigh. The thick ridge of his cock—huge even through layers of denim—was unmistakable now. It was real. He was hard for him.

Izuku moaned, spreading his legs instinctively, wanting that pressure lower, wanting it *right there*. “Show me,” he begged into Katsuki’s mouth. “Please show me what it does.”

Katsuki pulled back, breaking the desperate press of their bodies. Cool air rushed into the space between them, making Izuku gasp. He was left sprawled on the sleeping bags, shirt rucked up, skin flushed and marked, aching for the heat that had just vanished.

"Say it again," Katsuki commanded, his voice rough. He loomed above him, a silhouette against the lantern glow, his chest heaving.

"What?" Izuku breathed, dazed.

"You know what."

Izuku's mind cleared enough to understand. The word. The one that had made Katsuki groan like a dying man. "Daddy," he whispered.

"Louder."

"Daddy." It was a plea this time, raw and open.

Katsuki’s eyes burned. "Again."

"Daddy, please—"

"Please what?"

"Touch me. Please touch me again." Izuku’s hands fisted in the nylon beneath him, his hips giving a helpless little roll. His pussy was soaked, a hot, empty ache between his thighs.

Katsuki watched him squirm for another long second, a predator savoring the struggle. Then he moved. Not back to his mouth, but lower. His big hands pushed Izuku’s shirt up fully, baring his chest to the warm, damp air of the tent.

Izuku held his breath. His tits were small, soft swells, almost lost on his lean frame. His nipples were big and puffy, a dark pink against his pale skin, already pebbled tight from the cold and the want.

Katsuki stared at them like a man starved. He bent his head slowly, deliberately, and put his mouth over the left one.

The sensation was electric. Hot, wet suction. The rough drag of his tongue over the sensitive peak. Izuku cried out, back bowing off the groundsheet. It was too much and not enough—a sharp, sweet pull that went straight to his core, making him clench around nothing.

Katsuki moaned against his skin, a deep vibration Izuku felt in his bones. "Taste so good," he growled, switching to the other side, sucking it into the heat of his mouth with the same brutal reverence.

"Oh god—" Izuku’s hands flew to Katsuki’s head, fingers tangling in the spiky blond hair. He didn't push him away. He held him there.

Katsuki lavished attention on each tiny tit, sucking and licking until the nipples were dark red and throbbing. He pulled off with a wet pop, breathing hard. "You like that? Your daddy sucking on your pretty little tits?"

The filthy question, paired with that word from *his* mouth, sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through Izuku. "Yes," he gasped. "Yes—Daddy—"

Katsuki kissed a wet trail down the center of his stomach, over the quivering muscles there. His hands hooked into the waistband of Izuku’s jeans and briefs together. "Lift your hips."

Izuku obeyed instantly, shakily raising his hips off the groundsheet. Katsuki peeled the fabric down in one slow motion, taking everything with it—down his thighs, over his knees, past his ankles—until he was completely bare.

Katsuki stared. The air left his lungs in a slow, ragged exhale.

Izuku lay completely bare on the rumpled sleeping bags, his skin glowing in the soft lantern light. The dark green curls between his thighs were damp, clinging to his skin. His pussy was exposed—a slick, pink fold that glistened with his own wetness. Katsuki’s gaze traced the thick curve of his thighs, the soft swell of his belly, the tiny, abused peaks of his tits. He looked ruined already.

“Fuck,” Katsuki breathed, the word torn from somewhere deep and broken inside him.

Izuku shivered, his hands coming up to cover himself instinctively before he forced them back down to his sides, fingers digging into the nylon. He felt utterly seen. “Is it… okay?”

Katsuki’s eyes snapped up to his. “Okay?” He gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Look at you.”

He reached out, one calloused hand hovering over Izuku’s trembling stomach before settling there. The heat of his palm was a brand. “You’re perfect,” he said, and it sounded like a curse.

“I’ve never…” Izuku started, then bit his lip.

“I know.” Katsuki’s thumb stroked a slow circle on his belly. “I know you haven’t.” His voice dropped lower, gravelly with want. “You’re so wet for me already. Soaking.”

He moved his hand lower, through the coarse curls, but didn’t touch where Izuku was aching for him. He just let his fingers rest there, a breath away. Izuku whined, hips lifting off the groundsheet in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” Katsuki said, watching his face.

“You.”

“Be specific.”

Izuku’s cheeks flushed darker. “I want… I want your hand. Please.”

Katsuki finally touched him. A single finger slid through his folds, gathering the slick heat there. Izuku cried out, back arching violently.

“Jesus,” Katsuki muttered, feeling how easily his finger glided. “You’re dripping.” He did it again, a slow, deliberate stroke from bottom to top, circling but not entering. The wet sound was obscene in the quiet tent.

“Daddy—please—”

“What? Tell me.”

“Inside,” Izuku begged, tears pricking his eyes from the sheer frustration of it. “I need you inside.”

Katsuki pressed one of the thick finger against his entrance. Just pressure. Not pushing. Not yet. Izuku sobbed, trying to rock down onto it.

“Look at me,” Katsuki commanded.

Izuku forced his eyes open. Katsuki’s face was a mask of fierce concentration, sweat beading at his temples.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, no sugarcoating it.

“I don’t care.”

“You will.” Katsuki leaned down then, kissing him hard as he finally pushed the tip of his finger inside.

The stretch was immediate, a sharp burn that made Izuku gasp into Katsuki’s mouth. He was so tight. Katsuki stilled, letting him adjust to the intrusion.

“Breathe,” he murmured against his lips.

Izuku tried. He felt impossibly full from just one finger. Katsuki began to move it slowly, in and out, the drag exquisite and agonizing.

“You feel that?” Katsuki whispered harshly in his ear. “That’s me inside you.”