The single bulb cast long shadows on the damp concrete. The air was thick with steam, the smell of cheap soap, and the sound of water drumming on plastic. Izuku stood under the spray, scrubbing at his skin with a rough washcloth until it shone pink and raw.

Katsuki leaned against the tiled wall, arms crossed, watching him. The boy’s shoulders were hunched, his movements frantic. “You’re gonna peel it off,” Katsuki said, his voice low but cutting through the water’s noise.

“I don’t care.” Izuku’s voice was thin, choked. He scrubbed harder at his inner thigh.

“Izuku.”

“I can still feel it,” he mumbled, the words cracking. “Inside. I can feel where you… and I’m not… it’s not coming out.”

Katsuki pushed off the wall. In two steps he was under the spray with him, the water plastering his blond hair flat. He grabbed Izuku’s wrist, stopping the punishing motion. The washcloth fell to the floor with a wet slap. “Stop. Look at yourself.”

“Let go.”

“No.” Katsuki’s grip tightened, his other hand coming up to frame Izuku’s jaw, forcing his head up. The boy’s green eyes were wide and lost, freckles standing out against skin flushed from heat and distress. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“It’s what I deserve.” Izuku’s breath hitched. “It’s what we both deserve. We’re monsters.”

Katsuki’s thumb stroked over his cheekbone, a gesture so at odds with the harsh set of his mouth. “Maybe. But I’m not letting you scrub your skin off in a fucking campground shower.”

“Why?” Izuku’s voice was a whisper. “Why do you care now?”

“I never stopped.” The admission was rough, hauled up from somewhere deep. Katsuki’s storm-colored eyes held his. “I just… forgot how to show it without fucking you.”

Izuku trembled. The fight seeped out of him, leaving a terrible, hollow exhaustion. He swayed forward, his forehead coming to rest against Katsuki’s collarbone. “I’m scared, Dad.”

The word, soft and ruined, did something to Katsuki’s chest. He let go of Izuku’s wrist and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close under the relentless warm rain. “I know.”

“What if… what if I’m…”

“We’ll deal with it.” Katsuki’s hand cradled the back of Izuku’s head, fingers tangling in wet green curls. “Whatever it is. I’m here.”

“You’re always here,” Izuku murmured against his skin. “That’s the problem.”

Katsuki didn’t answer. He just held him, water coursing over their shoulders, down the tense line of their spines. He could feel the frantic beat of Izuku’s heart begin to slow, syncing with his own. The cheap soap smell couldn’t mask the scent of him, the one that was uniquely Izuku, that Katsuki now knew tasted like salt and desperation.

Izuku tilted his head back, searching his father’s face. Water droplets clung to his lashes. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” The answer was immediate, absolute. “I hate what I did. I hate that I couldn’t stop. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

Something fragile and hopeful flickered in Izuku’s eyes. His hands, which had been limp at his sides, came up to rest on Katsuki’s waist. His thumbs brushed the defined ridges of his hips. “Then kiss me,” he whispered. “Not like before. Not like you’s trying to punish us. Just… kiss me.”

Katsuki stared down at him, at the parted lips, the trust and the want so blatant it was a physical ache. His control, so carefully rebuilt in the last few minutes, splintered. He dipped his head, and his mouth found Izuku’s with a softness that felt like breaking.

He pulled back just enough to breathe the words against Izuku’s wet lips. “I love you.” The confession was rough, sandpaper-soft, and it shattered the last of Izuku’s tears. They spilled over, mixing with the shower spray.

Izuku’s breath caught. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Katsuki didn’t hesitate this time. He sealed it with another kiss, deeper now, his tongue sweeping into Izuku’s mouth with a claiming tenderness that was somehow more devastating than any brutality. The water poured over them, a warm, relentless baptism.

Katsuki’s hands slid from Izuku’s face down to his wrists. He guided them slowly, deliberately, placing Izuku’s palms flat against his own chest. “Your turn,” he rasped, his voice thick. “You control it. You tell me what you want.”

Izuku’s fingers flexed, feeling the solid muscle, the coarse hair, the frantic beat of his father’s heart under his hands. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do.” Katsuki’s eyes were dark, pupils swallowing the storm-gray. “You’ve always known. Show me.”

Hesitantly, Izuku let his hands wander. He traced the defined lines of Katsuki’s pecs, his thumbs brushing over tight nipples. He slid them down the ridges of his abdomen, learning the terrain he’d only ever stolen glances at. Katsuki shuddered, his head falling back against the tile with a soft thud, his throat exposed.

“You’re so…” Izuku mumbled, his gaze fixed on his own moving hands. “Real.”

“Fuck, Izuku.” Katsuki’s control was a visible tremor in his jaw. His own hands stayed at his sides, clenched into fists, letting his son explore.

Izuku’s touch grew bolder, drifting lower, over the sharp cut of his hips. His fingertips traced the trail of blond hair that led down from his navel. He hesitated again, his breath coming in short, sharp pants that fogged the air between them.

“It’s okay,” Katsuki gritted out, his eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s yours. Take it.”

Izuku’s hand finally closed around him. Katsuki’s cock was thick and heavy, already fully hard, the skin hot and silken under Izuku’s palm. A strangled sound escaped Katsuki, part groan, part surrender.

“You feel that?” Katsuki whispered, his hips giving an involuntary jerk into the touch. “That’s for you. It’s always been for you.”

Izuku’s hand began to move, a tentative up and down that made Katsuki’s thighs tense. His thumb brushed over the swollen head, smearing the bead of moisture there. “You’re leaking,” Izuku mumbled, fascinated.

“Yeah.” Katsuki’s voice was pure gravel. “Keep going.”

Izuku’s strokes grew more confident, learning the weight, the veined texture, the way the foreskin slid back. His other hand cupped the heavy sac beneath, fingers tracing the taut, wrinkled skin. Katsuki hissed, his hips pushing forward into the touch.

“I want to taste you,” Izuku whispered, his green eyes huge and dark as he looked up through wet lashes.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Do it.”

Izuku sank to his knees on the rough concrete, the water cascading over his shoulders. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and licked a broad stripe from root to tip, his tongue flat against the underside. Katsuki’s hand flew to the tile wall for support, his fingers splaying wide.

“Fuck,” Katsuki choked out.

Izuku took the head into his mouth, his lips stretching. He sucked gently, experimentally, his tongue swirling. The taste was salt and skin and something uniquely, profoundly Katsuki. Izuku moaned around him, the vibration drawing a ragged groan from his father.

He pulled off, panting. “I can’t believe you’re in my mouth.”

“You asked for it,” Katsuki managed, looking down at his son’s flushed, worshipful face. “You got it.”

Izuku dove back down, taking him deeper. He bobbed his head, his hands moving to cradle Katsuki’s balls, rolling the weight in his palms. He pulled off again, breathless. “These,” he said, voice thick with awe. “This is where I… where I came from.”

The taboo of it hit Katsuki like a physical blow. He stared, stunned, as Izuku bent and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his scrotum, then sucked one testicle gently into the heat of his mouth.

“Izuku,” Katsuki warned, but it was a plea.

Izuku released him with a wet pop. “It makes me crazy,” he confessed, nuzzling the sensitive flesh. “Knowing that. It makes me want to…” He didn’t finish. He just took Katsuki’s cock back into his throat, swallowing around him, his nose buried in blond curls.

Katsuki was coming apart. His head thumped back against the wall, his free hand tangling in Izuku’s wet curls, not guiding, just holding on. “Your mouth,” he gritted out. “God, your fucking mouth.”

Izuku worked him with a desperate, hungry rhythm, one hand pumping the base, the other still fondling his balls. The wet sounds were obscene, louder than the shower spray. Saliva dripped down his chin, washed away by the water only to be replaced by more.

“Gonna cum,” Katsuki warned, his thighs trembling. “You need to stop.”

Izuku shook his head, green curls flying, and took him deeper, his throat working. He looked up, their eyes locking. Katsuki saw the raw want there, the complete surrender, and his control snapped.

He came with a shattered groan, his hips jerking forward. Izuku’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed, his throat convulsing around each pulse. Katsuki watched, wrecked, as his son drank him down, a tear or rainwater tracing a path through the freckles on his cheek.

When it was over, Izuku slumped forward, his forehead resting against Katsuki’s thigh, panting. Katsuki’s hand, still in his hair, gentled, stroking the soaked curls.

“Up,” Katsuki murmured, his voice shot. He hauled Izuku to his feet, pulling him close. He kissed him, deep and searching, tasting himself on Izuku’s tongue. “You’re a menace.”

Izuku smiled against his mouth, a real, dizzy smile. “Yours.”

“Don’t stop,” Izuku whispered into the wet skin of Katsuki’s neck, his arms locked around his father’s waist, clinging. “Please.”

Katsuki’s hands, which had been stroking his back, stilled. The water beat down on them, a constant, warm drumming. “Kid…”

“I don’t want to think.” Izuku’s voice was muffled, desperate. “I just want to feel you. Make it so I can’t think.”

Katsuki let out a long, shaky breath. He cupped the back of Izuku’s head, his fingers tangling in the sopping curls. “You’re gonna hate me more when the thinking comes back.”

“I could never hate you.” Izuku pulled back just enough to look at him, his green eyes wide and earnest, water beading on his lashes. “I hate me. I hate… what I want. But I don’t hate you.”

“You should.” Katsuki’s thumb brushed over Izuku’s cheekbone. “I’m the parent. I’m the one who’s supposed to know where the line is.”

“You did know.” Izuku’s hands slid down Katsuki’s back, over the firm muscles, coming to rest on the swell of his ass. He squeezed, pulling their bodies flush again. Katsuki’s semi-hard cock twitched against Izuku’s stomach. “You drew it in the dirt for years. I’m the one who crossed it.”

“Don’t,” Katsuki growled, but it lacked heat. His hips gave a shallow, involuntary roll. “Don’t put this on you.”

“Why?” Izuku challenged, his own hips pushing back, grinding against the thick thigh Katsuki slid between his legs. A soft, broken sound escaped him. “Because you’re Dad? Because you have to be the strong one? You’re not strong right now. You’re just a man. And I’m just… I’m yours.”

The words did it. The claim. Katsuki’s control, already in tatters, snapped like a dry twig. He spun them, pressing Izuku’s back against the cold, wet tile. He kissed him, not with the softness from before, but with a consuming, frantic hunger. Izuku moaned into his mouth, his legs parting instinctively.

Katsuki’s hand slid down, over the trembling plane of Izuku’s stomach, through the dark, wet curls. His fingers found him, already slick and hot. “Still so wet,” he muttered against Izuku’s lips, his voice thick with disbelief. “Even after everything.”

“It’s for you,” Izuku gasped, echoing Katsuki’s own earlier words. His head fell back against the tile with a thud. “It’s always for you.”

Katsuki pushed two fingers inside without warning. Izuku cried out, a sharp, punched-out sound that echoed in the small stall. His body clenched around the intrusion, tight and velvety. “Fuck, Dad…”

“Tell me,” Katsuki commanded, his fingers curling, scissoring, stretching him open. The water cascaded over his wrist, mixing with Izuku’s arousal. “Tell me what this is.”

“It’s wrong,” Izuku sobbed, his hips rocking to meet the thrust of Katsuki’s hand. “It’s so wrong. It’s… it’s mine. It’s yours. Please.”

Katsuki added a third finger, the stretch making Izuku whimper. He watched his son’s face, the parted lips, the fluttering eyelids, the tears or water tracking through his freckles. “You want me to fuck you here?” he rasped. “Against this wall? In this shitty, public shower?”

“Yes.” Izuku’s hands scrabbled at Katsuki’s shoulders, nails digging in. “God, yes. I need it. I need you to… to rewrite it. Make it you. Only you.”

Katsuki understood. To overwrite the brutality of the tent, the fear that followed. He withdrew his fingers slowly, making Izuku groan at the loss. He gripped his own cock, which was fully hard again, thick and heavy in his fist. He guided the head through Izuku’s slick folds, the swollen tip catching at his entrance.

Izuku held his breath, his entire body trembling. His eyes were locked on Katsuki’s, wide and terrified and wanting. The water plastered his green curls to his forehead.

Katsuki leaned in, his lips brushing Izuku’s ear. “Breathe,” he ordered, his voice low. “And look at me.”

Izuku dragged in a shuddering gasp. He didn’t look away. Katsuki pushed forward, an inexorable, slow press that burned with stretch and heat and perfect, terrible fullness. Izuku’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, his fingers biting into Katsuki’s biceps.

Katsuki kissed him as he pushed the rest of the way in, a deep, consuming press of lips that swallowed Izuku’s ragged cry. The kiss was tender, a stark contrast to the brutal, stretching fullness. Izuku shook against him, his body a taut line of shock and pleasure.

“Breathe, kid,” Katsuki murmured against his mouth, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass. He didn’t move, just let him feel it. The stretch. The heat. The impossible rightness of being this connected.

“Daddy,” Izuku gasped, the word torn from him. His eyes were screwed shut. “It’s… a lot.”

“I know.” Katsuki brushed his lips over Izuku’s eyelids, his cheek, his jaw. “Just feel it. It’s just us.” He began to move, a slow, deliberate retreat and a careful, grinding return. The slide was obscenely wet, helped by the shower spray and Izuku’s own slickness.

Izuku’s hands crept up to claw at Katsuki’s back. “Don’t be gentle,” he pleaded, his voice a broken whisper. “I don’t deserve gentle.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki growled, but his rhythm remained measured, deep. He hooked an arm under Izuku’s thigh, hiking it higher around his waist, changing the angle. The next thrust drew a sharp, startled moan from Izuku’s throat. “That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Izuku sobbed, his head rolling back. “God, yes. Right there.”

Katsuki fucked him like that, with a focused, driving intensity that was less about violence and more about possession. Each thrust was a claim, a rewrite. The tile was cold against Izuku’s back, Katsuki’s body was searing hot against his front, and the water was a warm veil over everything. The sounds were filthy: the slap of wet skin, their mingled grunts and gasps, the slick, rhythmic push and pull.

“Look at me,” Katsuki commanded, his breath coming in harsh gusts. Izuku forced his eyes open, his gaze hazy with pleasure. “This is me. Only me. Nothing else is in this stall with us. You understand?”

“Only you,” Izuku repeated, dazed. His pussy clenched tightly around Katsuki’s cock, a pulsing, velvety grip. “I’m gonna… Dad, I’m close.”

“Then come,” Katsuki said, his voice raw. He leaned in, capturing Izuku’s mouth again, kissing him as his hips snapped forward, fast and deep. “Come all over my cock. Let me feel it.”

Izuku shattered. His orgasm ripped through him with a silent, open-mouthed cry, his body convulsing around Katsuki in tight, fluttering waves, squirting on the cock inside him. Katsuki groaned into his mouth, his own rhythm faltering as he was milked by the intense contractions. A few more ragged thrusts and he followed, spilling deep inside with a guttural sound, his forehead dropping to Izuku’s shoulder.

For a long moment, they just stood there, pinned together by the water and the aftermath. Katsuki’s softening cock still nestled inside him. Izuku’s limbs were liquid, held up only by Katsuki’s frame and the tile at his back.

Katsuki was the first to move, carefully pulling out. Izuku whimpered at the loss, the emptiness. Katsuki turned him gently, facing him into the spray. “Lean on me,” he said, his voice rough but quiet.

Izuku slumped forward, his forehead resting on Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki reached for the cheap bar of soap, working it into a lather in his palms. He began washing Izuku’s back, his shoulders, his arms. The touch was clinical, fatherly. It was a different kind of intimacy, somehow more devastating.

“I can feel it,” Izuku mumbled against his skin. “Running out of me. Your cum.”

Katsuki’s hands stilled for a second. Then he resumed washing. “I know.”

“Does it make you a monster?” Izuku asked, his voice small. “That part of you likes that? That part of me likes it?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, no hesitation. He turned Izuku under the spray, rinsing the soap away. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “Probably does.” He reached for the shampoo, pouring a dollop into his palm. “Tip your head back.”

Izuku obeyed, closing his eyes as Katsuki’s strong fingers worked the suds into his scalp. It was so normal. So caring. A sob hitched in his throat. “I’m so scared.”

“I know that, too.” Katsuki’s voice was low. He guided Izuku’s head under the water, rinsing the curls clean. When he was done, he framed Izuku’s face with his hands, thumbs brushing over the freckled cheeks. “We’re both monsters. We’re both scared. That doesn’t change what we did. Or what we’re gonna do.”

“What are we gonna do?” Izuku whispered, his green eyes searching.

Katsuki leaned in, pressing a soft, closed-mouth kiss to his lips. It was a seal. A promise. A terrible, beautiful surrender. “We’re gonna finish this trip. And then we’re gonna go home. And we’re gonna figure out how to live with it.”