The morning after the dream was a raw, silent thing. Izuku worked the fence line with his head down, the memory of Katsuki’s weight a phantom ache between his thighs. He could feel the centaur’s eyes on him from across the pasture, a hot, constant pressure.

“You’re holding the post driver like it’s gonna bite you, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice carried, flat and unimpressed. He wasn’t even looking, just leaning against a fence post he’d sunk in half the time.

Izuku flushed, adjusting his grip. “I’m getting it.”

“Sure you are.”

They didn’t talk about the stable. They didn’t talk about the light in the farmhouse window, burning late. They mended fence. They cleared the overgrown south pasture. They ate dinner in a silence so thick Izuku could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. The air between them wasn’t just tense—it was charged, a live wire strung from the stable to the house, humming with everything unsaid.

Three days passed like that. The grooming ritual was the worst. It was necessity—Katsuki’s coat needed care, his hooves needed picking—but it had become a theater of silent, screaming want. Izuku’s hands would tremble as he brushed the powerful chestnut flanks. Katsuki would stand unnervingly still, his breath a slow, steady rhythm, the thick bulge of his sheath a blatant, unignorable fact in the lantern light.

On the fourth evening, the brush caught on a burr. Izuku leaned in closer, his free hand settling on Katsuki’s hip for balance. The heat of the centaur’s body through the short fur was immediate, shocking. Izuku’s breath hitched.

Katsuki didn’t move. “Problem?”

“No. Just a tangle.” Izuku’s voice was too thin. He worked the burr loose, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin near the sheath. A low, almost imperceptible rumble vibrated through the centaur’s barrel. Izuku snatched his hand back as if burned.

“Jumpy.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Katsuki finally turned his head, those crimson eyes cutting through the dim light. “You’ve been jumpy for days. Since you ran out of here like a spooked rabbit.”

Izuku’s throat went dry. He focused on the brush strokes, the motion of his arm. “We agreed not to talk about that.”

“Did we? I don’t remember agreeing to shit.” Katsuki shifted his weight, the movement causing his equine half to sway, his sheath brushing against Izuku’s forearm. It was heavy. Warm. Izuku froze, the brush hovering. “You think I don’t know what you did in that house? You think I can’t smell it on you?”

The question landed like a physical blow. Izuku’s face burned. He wanted to deny it. The words wouldn’t come. His silence was confession enough.

A slow, predatory smile spread across Katsuki’s face. He took a single step forward, crowding Izuku back against the stall wall. The lantern light gilded the sweat on his human torso. “You’re thinking about it right now. Aren’t you, Deku?”

Izuku’s back hit the rough wood. There was nowhere to go. The scent of hay and horse and pure, male musk filled his lungs. He could only stare, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs.

Katsuki leaned down, his voice a hot whisper against Izuku’s ear. “You want to know what I thought about? Out here, after you ran?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I thought about bending you over this rail. Holding you down. Making you take every inch of what you saw. Making you scream until you forgot your own name.”

A sharp, desperate sound escaped Izuku’s throat. His knees felt weak. The heat in his belly was a liquid pull, an ache so deep it felt like gravity. His work pants felt suddenly, unbearably tight.

Katsuki’s gaze dropped to Izuku’s mouth, then lower, to the frantic pulse in his throat. His own breath was no longer steady. The air between them crackled, a single spark away from an inferno. He was so close. One movement, and the fragile pretense of the past few days would shatter completely.

Izuku’s hand, of its own volition, lifted. His fingertips hovered, trembling, an inch from the hard plane of Katsuki’s stomach. The question hung in the space between their bodies, vast and silent and screaming.

Izuku’s trembling fingertips made contact with the hard, sweat-damp plane of Katsuki’s stomach. The muscle beneath jumped, a sharp contraction. The centaur’s breath hitched, the sound loud in the silent stall.

“There it is,” Katsuki murmured, his voice rough. He didn’t move away. He leaned into the touch, a fraction of an inch. “No more running.”

Izuku’s hand flattened, palm against hot skin. He could feel the rapid, powerful beat of Katsuki’s heart. His own was a frantic echo. He looked up, meeting those crimson eyes. The mockery was gone, replaced by a focused, burning intensity that stole the air from Izuku’s lungs.

“Tell me,” Katsuki said, the command a low vibration. “Say it.”

Izuku’s mouth was dry. He swallowed. The words were a shameful, desperate truth he’d carried for days. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“You.” The admission was a gasp. “I want… I want you to fuck me.”

A slow, triumphant smirk pulled at Katsuki’s mouth. “Yeah. I know.” His own hand came up, calloused fingers wrapping around Izuku’s wrist, not to pull it away, but to hold it in place against his stomach. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Liar.” Katsuki’s other hand came up to cradle Izuku’s jaw, his thumb brushing over a freckled cheek. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, a contrast to the blunt words. “You’re terrified. Your little heart’s going to beat right out of your chest.” He leaned closer, his breath hot on Izuku’s lips. “Good. Be scared. Then take it anyway.”

He closed the final distance, his mouth capturing Izuku’s in a kiss that was all possession and no gentleness. It was hard, demanding, all teeth and heat and the slick slide of tongue. Izuku moaned into it, his free hand flying up to tangle in the wild spikes of Katsuki’s hair, holding on as his knees truly gave way. The centaur held him up effortlessly, the powerful equine body shifting to press Izuku more firmly against the wall.

Katsuki broke the kiss, breathing ragged. His eyes were dark, pupils blown. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

His hands were already moving, yanking the hem of Izuku’s work shirt up. Izuku fumbled with his own belt, fingers clumsy. The button of his pants popped, the zipper a loud rasp in the quiet. He pushed the fabric down over his hips, kicking the pants and underwear away into the straw. The cool stable air hit his bare skin, raising goosebumps. He stood there, exposed, his small chest heaving, his clean-shaven pussy already slick and aching.

Katsuki’s gaze raked over him, a visual touch that felt as physical as hands. He didn’t speak. He just looked, his eyes lingering on the soft curve of Izuku’s chest, the dip of his waist, the bald cunt between his thighs. The bulge of his own sheath had grown, the thick shape of his cock now fully prominent, the tip emerging dark and wet.

“Look at you,” Katsuki finally said, his voice a gravelly rumble. He reached out, not for Izuku’s core, but to trace a single finger over one of his small, puffy nipples. It peaked instantly under the touch. “All worked up for me. Soaking for it.”

Izuku whimpered, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. “Katsuki…”

Izuku’s hand, still trembling, drifted from Katsuki’s stomach down the hard line of his abdomen. His fingers trailed through coarse blond hair, then lower, over the hot, firm swell of the centaur’s sheath. The skin was velvet-soft, stretched taut over the immense shape within. A thick bead of clear fluid welled from the tip, gleaming in the lantern light.

“Go on,” Katsuki growled, his hips shifting forward a fraction. The movement made the heavy weight in Izuku’s hand press more insistently against his palm. “Touch it.”

Izuku’s breath shuddered out. He curled his fingers around the base, where the shaft began to emerge. It was hot. Unbelievably hot, and solid as stone. The skin was slick with pre-come, smooth and alive under his touch. He gave an experimental stroke, his hand barely able to close around the girth.

Katsuki’s head dropped back, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth. His equine legs braced, hooves digging into the straw. “Fuck. Your hands are so small.”

Izuku stroked again, slower, mapping the thick vein that ran along the underside. He felt the pulse there, a frantic, animal rhythm. He leaned in, his own need a throbbing ache between his legs, and pressed his lips to the slick, salty tip.

Katsuki jolted. “Shit— Deku—”

The taste was musky, primal. Izuku licked a broad stripe along the weeping slit, then took as much of the head into his mouth as he could. It was too big, stretching his lips, but he sucked, hollowing his cheeks, his tongue working the sensitive flesh.

“That’s it,” Katsuki rasped, one hand fisting in Izuku’s green curls, not guiding, just holding. “Use that mouth. Show me how bad you want it.”

Izuku moaned around him, the vibration pulling a ragged groan from the centaur. He worked his mouth and hand in a clumsy, desperate rhythm, spit and pre-come slicking his chin. He was drowning in the scent, the taste, the sheer reality of it. This was what he’d dreamed of. What he’d touched himself to, alone in his bed. It was better. It was terrifying.

Katsuki’s hand tightened in Izuku’s hair, not pulling him off, but holding him steady as he pushed deeper into his mouth. “Take it,” he grunted, the muscles in his equine flanks quivering. “You wanted it so bad. Swallow it.”

Izuku gagged, tears springing to his eyes as the thick head nudged the back of his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Saliva dripped from his stretched lips, mixing with the bitter pre-come coating his tongue. He forced himself to relax his jaw, to take the impossible pressure, a broken, wet sound vibrating around the shaft.

“Look at you,” Katsuki breathed, his voice ragged with awe and lust. He used his grip to tilt Izuku’s head back, forcing eye contact. Izuku’s green eyes were wide, streaming, utterly wrecked. “Fuck. You look perfect like this.”

He pulled back slowly, letting Izuku gasp a shuddering breath before pushing in again, a fraction deeper this time. He set a relentless, shallow rhythm, fucking Izuku’s mouth with the broad crown of his cock, each thrust punctuated by a choked gag. “That’s it. Get used to it. This is what you’re gonna take.”

Izuku’s hands scrambled against Katsuki’s sweat-slicked stomach, nails digging in. His own need was a throbbing, empty ache between his legs, his pussy clenching around nothing, so wet he could feel it dripping down his inner thigh. He sucked desperately, hollowing his cheeks, trying to please even as he choked.

“Enough,” Katsuki growled, his hand tightening in Izuku’s hair to pull him off with a wet pop. Izuku gasped, a string of saliva and pre-come connecting his swollen lips to the glistening, dark crown of Katsuki’s cock. “You think that’s enough? You think you’ve earned it?”

Izuku panted, his chest heaving. “I—I want—”

“I know what you want,” Katsuki cut him off, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He used his grip to tilt Izuku’s face up, forcing their eyes to meet. Izuku’s were glazed, desperate. “You’re gonna beg for it. Properly. Tell me you need my cock down your throat.”

“Please,” Izuku whimpered, the word torn from him. His own hands were trembling where they rested on Katsuki’s sweat-slicked thighs. “Katsuki, please, I need it. I need to taste you.”

“Louder.”

“I need your cock in my mouth!” Izuku cried out, the shame burning through him, fueling the heat between his legs. “I want to choke on it. Please, let me.”

A feral grin split Katsuki’s face. “Good boy.” He didn’t guide Izuku back down. He pushed him. Izuku opened his mouth willingly, taking the thick head back in, his tongue flattening against the underside. Katsuki watched, his breath coming in sharp gusts, as he fed more of his length into that wet heat. “Deeper. Take it.”

Izuku moaned around him, the vibration making Katsuki’s hips jerk. He relaxed his jaw, letting the impossible girth stretch him, his throat working convulsively as the tip nudged past his soft palate. Tears tracked fresh paths through the freckles on his cheeks. He could smell the musk of Katsuki’s skin, the earthy scent of his equine half, the sharp, animal tang of pre-come. His own pussy clenched, so empty, so wet it was a dull, throbbing ache.

Katsuki set a brutal, shallow rhythm, fucking into Izuku’s mouth with controlled thrusts. “That’s it. Get used to the stretch. You wanted this, didn’t you? Dreamed about this fat horse cock ruining your pretty little mouth.”

Izuku could only make a guttural, affirmative sound, his nose pressed into the coarse blond hair at the base. He was drowning in it. The taste was salt and bitter musk, flooding his senses. His hands came up to cradle the heavy, furred weight of Katsuki’s balls, rolling them in his palms. They were huge, hot, and tight, swinging with each thrust.

“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki rasped, his composure cracking. His equine legs shifted, hooves stamping lightly in the straw. “You like that? Like holding my fucking stones while you gag on me?”

Izuku nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut. He sucked with desperate, sloppy pulls, spit dripping freely down his chin and onto his own bare chest. The sounds were obscene—wet, choking gulps, ragged breaths, the slick slap of skin. He felt owned. Used. It was everything he’d craved.

Katsuki pulled him off again, just enough to let him drag in a sobbing breath. “Look at me.” Izuku’s tear-filled eyes fluttered open. “Now take it all. I want to feel you swallow around the head.”

He didn’t wait for permission. He pushed forward, steady and inexorable. Izuku’s throat opened, a burning, overwhelming stretch, and then the broad crown was lodged deep, bottoming out. Izuku’s body went rigid, a silent scream in his chest, his nostrils flaring as he fought for air through his nose. He felt full, impaled, the hot, pulsing weight of Katsuki seated in his gullet.

Katsuki held there, his own body trembling with the effort of control. He watched Izuku’s face, the utter surrender in it. “There,” he breathed, awe in his rough voice. “That’s it. That’s where you belong.” He stayed buried for a long, shuddering moment before slowly withdrawing, the drag against Izuku’s throat making them both groan. Then he pushed back in, a fraction easier this time, beginning a deep, punishing rhythm that stole the world away.

Katsuki fucked his throat in deep, brutal strokes, the wet slap of his heavy balls against Izuku’s chin echoing in the stall. Izuku gagged violently around the impossible girth, tears and drool and bitter pre-come flooding over his lips, dripping in thick strands onto his own small, heaving chest. His nipples, tight and brown, glistened with the mess.

“That’s it, choke on it,” Katsuki grunted, his equine hooves stamping the straw as he drove forward. “You look like a fucking mess. Perfect.”

Izuku’s own need was a screaming fire between his legs. One trembling hand left Katsuki’s sweat-slick thigh and slid down his own belly, down until his fingers found his swollen clit. He flicked it, a sharp, desperate circle, and a broken sob vibrated around the cock in his throat.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes burned down at him. “You’re playing with that little cunt while you choke on me? Fucking desperate.” He pulled almost all the way out, letting Izuku gasp a ragged breath. “Tell me.”

“I’m—I’m so empty,” Izuku whimpered, his voice raw. His fingers worked faster, his hips jerking into his own touch. “Please, I need—”

“You need this horse cock splitting you open,” Katsuki finished for him, his voice a low, possessive rumble. He pushed back into Izuku’s waiting mouth, slower this time, watching the stretch of his lips. “You’re gonna come just from sucking me, aren’t you? Just from tasting me and touching that pretty little pussy.”

Izuku nodded frantically, his green eyes pleading. The taste of salt and musk was all he knew. The heat of Katsuki’s skin, the pulse of the thick vein under his tongue, the heavy, furred weight in his hands—it was overwhelming. His fingers on his clit became frantic, his thighs shaking.

“Do it,” Katsuki commanded, his rhythm turning punishing again, fucking deep into his throat. “Come for me, Deku. Show me how much you love this.”

Izuku’s orgasm hit him like a seizure, a hard, clenching pulse that ripped a muffled scream from his stuffed throat. His pussy squirted, a hot, clear gush that soaked the straw beneath him and painted his own trembling thighs. His vision whited out, his body bowing as Katsuki never stopped fucking his mouth, the brutal rhythm turning his climax into a endless, shuddering wave.

“That’s it, you filthy animal,” Katsuki snarled, his hips pistoning. “Come all over yourself while you gag on me. You’re nothing but a horse slut, aren’t you? A perfect little whore for this feral dick.”

Izuku could only sob around the cock, his senses drowning in musk and salt and his own release. Katsuki’s thrusts grew erratic, his control shattering. “You love it. Tell me you love this horse cock ruining you.”

He pulled out with a lewd, wet pop, his massive length springing free, glistening and furious. Izuku gasped, drool and pre-come stringing from his bruised lips, just as Katsuki’s orgasm took him.

The first thick rope of cum hit Izuku’s cheek, hot and startling. The second splashed across his forehead, into his green curls. Katsuki groaned, a raw, animal sound, his body shuddering as he painted Izuku’s face, his neck, his small, glistening chest. It kept coming, pulse after pulse, more than Izuku could have imagined—stripping across his collarbones, pooling in the hollow of his throat, dripping in thick, pearlescent strands down his brown nipples and over his shuddering belly.

Izuku sat there, panting, covered, utterly spent. The cum was warm, heavy, the smell profoundly animal. He blinked, a slow, dazed motion, feeling a drop slide from his eyelash.

Katsuki looked down at him, his own chest heaving. A feral, satisfied grin spread across his face. “Look at you.”

Izuku lifted a trembling hand, touching the mess on his cheek. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting it—salty, bitter, deeper than before. He didn’t break eye contact.

“You’re a mess,” Katsuki said, his voice rough but lacking its earlier edge. He reached down, his thumb swiping through the pool on Izuku’s collarbone. He brought it to Izuku’s mouth. “Clean it up.”

Izuku’s tongue darted out, obedient, lapping the offered digit clean. The submission was quiet now, exhausted, but no less complete.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing and the distant cry of a night bird. The lantern light gilded the streaks on Izuku’s skin, the soaked straw, the spent, heavy shape of Katsuki above him.

Katsuki shifted, his equine body lowering with a soft grunt until he was lying in the straw beside Izuku, their faces level. He studied Izuku’s wrecked expression, the cum drying on his freckles. “You still want it?” he asked, the question barely a whisper.

Izuku turned his head on the straw. His voice was a shredded ruin. “Yes.”

“Tomorrow,” Katsuki stated, not a promise, but a fact. He reached out, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they brushed a sticky curl from Izuku’s forehead. “Now sleep.”