The hayloft air was thick with the scent of dried grass and old wood. Izuku leaned back against the solid warmth of Katsuki’s human chest, the centaur’s arms a heavy, secure band around his torso. Through the wide, open loft door, the sky was a spill of cold stars, indifferent and endless. Katsuki’s chin rested on top of Izuku’s head, his breathing a slow, steady rhythm against the quiet.
“Never had a view before,” Katsuki said, his voice a low rumble in the dark. “Stables don’t got windows.”
The words hung there, simple and devastating. Izuku felt them settle in his own ribs. He turned his head, just enough to see the sharp line of Katsuki’s jaw in the starlight. The centaur wasn’t looking at him. His crimson eyes were fixed on the black expanse, but they were distant, seeing something else.
Izuku shifted, turning fully within the circle of Katsuki’s arms. He reached out, his fingers—calloused now from fence wire and feed sacks—hovering for a second before they made contact. They traced the raised, rough skin on Katsuki’s equine shoulder. A brand. A crude, healed-over mark of ownership.
Katsuki stiffened. A full-body flinch. “Don’t.”
“Who?” Izuku asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“First owner. I was a foal.” Katsuki’s tone was flat, a deliberate removal of feeling. “Bought as a novelty. A status symbol for a rich bastard’s estate. The brand was to match his purebred horses. He liked things to match.”
Izuku’s thumb rubbed a slow circle over the scar. “What happened?”
“Got too big. Too mouthy. He sold me to a logging outfit.” Katsuki’s arms tightened around Izuku almost imperceptibly. “That one was just work. Dawn to dusk, hauling timber. If you stumbled, you got the crop. If you talked back, you got the whip. They passed me to a cousin who ran a hauling service. Then an auction house. Then you.”
“I didn’t know,” Izuku breathed out. The words felt useless.
“Why would you?” Katsuki’s laugh was a short, harsh sound. “You see a beast of burden, you see a price tag and a strong back. You don’t see a person. Nobody does. The law sure as hell doesn’t.”
“I do.” The declaration left Izuku’s lips before he could temper it. He looked up, meeting Katsuki’s gaze directly. “I see you.”
Katsuki stared down at him. The mocking shield was gone. In its place was something raw and wary. “You asked me where to start with the fences. First damn day. Nobody asks. They point.”
“You know the land. I don’t.” Izuku’s hand was still on the brand, a steady pressure. “It’s your home, too.”
“It’s a shithole farm with a clueless owner,” Katsuki said, but the old bite wasn’t there. It was just a statement of fact. “And you’re… you’re the first one who didn’t look at me and see a thing. A pet. A tool.”
“What do they say?” Izuku asked quietly. “About… this. About us.”
“That it’s an abomination,” Katsuki said, the word clinical, practiced. “That it’s beastiality. That you’re corrupt. That I’m taking advantage. That we’re both sick. They’d lock you up. They’d put me down.”
The silence that followed was absolute. The weight of the world, of every judgment and law, pressed down on the dusty loft.
Izuku leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Katsuki’s sternum. He felt the strong heartbeat there. “I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I don’t.” Izuku lifted his head again, his green eyes fierce in the dim light. “Do you?”
Katsuki’s hand came up, his rough fingers tracing the line of Izuku’s jaw. A touch so unlike him—tentative, almost reverent. “All I care about,” he said, each word deliberate, “is that you look at me. And you don’t look away.”
He bent his head, and his kiss was nothing like the demanding, claiming ones from before. It was slow. A question. An acknowledgment. Izuku melted into it, a soft sound escaping his throat as he kissed back, his hands sliding up to tangle in the wild spikes of Katsuki’s hair.
When they parted, their breaths mingled in the cool air. Katsuki’s forehead rested against his. “Still want this, Deku? Even knowing?”
Izuku’s answer was to guide one of Katsuki’s hands down, under the hem of his own shirt, over the flat plane of his stomach, and lower, until those calloused fingers were pressing against the soft, worn cotton of his sleep pants. Against the heat and the ache that lived there, constant and hungry. “Yes.”
Katsuki’s breath hitched. His fingers flexed, applying a firm, promising pressure that made Izuku’s hips jerk. “Then you’re mine,” he murmured, the words a vow against Izuku’s lips. “And I’m yours. Fuck the rest.”
Katsuki’s hand, still pressed low against Izuku’s cotton pants, didn’t move. His fingers curled, gripping the fabric. “Mine,” he repeated, a low growl. Then he yanked.
The worn sleep pants tore at the seam, the sound sharp in the quiet loft. Cool air hit Izuku’s bare thighs. He gasped, but didn’t pull away. Katsuki tossed the ruined cloth aside, his crimson gaze dropping, taking in the sight: Izuku’s thick thighs, the dark thatch of curls he kept trimmed, the vulnerable, slick heat of him already glistening in the starlight.
“Look at you,” Katsuki murmured, his voice rough. “Already wet for it. For me.”
Izuku’s face burned. He tried to cover himself, but Katsuki caught his wrist, pinning it gently against the hay-strewn floor. “Don’t. I want to see.” He leaned back, his equine body shifting with a soft rustle of straw. His own cock, a thick, dark shape against his lower belly, was emerging fully from its sheath, heavy and already dripping. “You see that?”
Izuku’s mouth went dry. He nodded, unable to speak. The sheer size of it, the blunt head, the prominent vein—it was terrifying. It was all he’d thought about for days.
“You think you can take it?” Katsuki asked, not mocking now. Assessing. “Be honest, Deku.”
“I want to,” Izuku breathed out, his hips giving a helpless little jerk. “I need to.”
Katsuki’s expression softened, just for a second. He leaned forward again, bracing his human hands on the floor on either side of Izuku’s head. His equine body settled behind him, a wall of warm muscle. “Then we go slow. You tell me to stop, I stop. You understand? That’s the rule.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Izuku said, and it wasn’t a question. It was faith.
Katsuki’s eyes flashed. He lowered his head, capturing Izuku’s mouth in another deep, claiming kiss. As he kissed him, his hand slid down Izuku’s trembling stomach, through his curls, and found his soaked opening. Izuku cried out against his lips, back arching off the floor.
“So fucking ready,” Katsuki muttered, breaking the kiss to watch his own fingers circle Izuku’s entrance, spreading the wetness. He pushed one thick finger inside, just to the first knuckle. Izuku clenched around him, a sharp, sweet gasp tearing from his throat. “That’s it. Get used to me.”
"Don't wait," Izuku gasped, his hands scrabbling at Katsuki's shoulders. "Please. I need it now. All of it."
Katsuki stilled, his finger buried deep inside him. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I do." Izuku's voice broke on the words. He arched, pushing himself onto that thick finger, craving more. "I want it rough. I want the pain. Just fuck me. Please, Katsuki. Fuck me like an animal."
A low, dangerous sound rumbled from Katsuki's chest. He withdrew his finger, and Izuku whimpered at the loss. "You beg so pretty," he muttered, shifting his equine bulk. He positioned himself, the broad, slick head of his cock nudging against Izuku's soaked entrance. The pressure was immense, a blunt, impossible stretch just at the threshold. "Last chance to be smart, Deku."
Izuku spread his legs wider and his pussy openTr. "Do it."
Katsuki pushed.
The burn was blinding. Izuku cried out, a raw, shattered sound that echoed in the loft. His body seized, every muscle locking tight around the invading thickness. It was too much. It was everything.
"Breathe," Katsuki commanded, his own voice strained. He was frozen, buried to the hilt, his hips trembling with the effort of holding still. "Just fucking breathe."
Tears streaked from the corners of Izuku's eyes into his hair. He dragged in a ragged gasp, then another. The sharp agony began to melt, transforming into a deep, full ache. He felt split open. Claimed. "Move," he choked out. "Please, move."
Katsuki pulled back, almost all the way out, and slammed home again.
This time, Izuku's scream was pure pleasure. The friction was brutal, exquisite. Each thrust jolted through him, a lightning strike of sensation that erased every thought, every fear. The slap of skin, the wet, filthy sound of their joining, Katsuki's ragged grunts in his ear—it was a feral symphony.
"Is this what you wanted?" Katsuki snarled, pistoning into him with a relentless, driving rhythm. "This what you dreamed about while you were grooming me? While you were pretending you weren't a desperate little slut for horse cock?"
"Yes!" Izuku sobbed, his nails raking down Katsuki's sweat-slicked back. "God, yes! Harder!"
Katsuki obliged. He braced himself, his powerful equine hindquarters driving each thrust with enough force to shove Izuku up the hay-strewn floor. The world narrowed to the heat, the stretch, the punishing rhythm that was rewriting Izuku's very bones. He was nothing but a vessel, being filled and used and perfected.
"Mine," Katsuki growled against his throat, his teeth scraping the skin. "You take it so good. My perfect, greedy hole."
Izuku could only moan, his own climax coiling tight and desperate low in his belly. The pleasure was a live wire, sparking with every brutal impact. He was close. So close.
Izuku’s gaze dropped, his vision swimming, and he saw it—the distinct, impossible bulge in the lower curve of his own stomach, rising and falling with each of Katsuki’s brutal thrusts. He was so deep he was reshaping him from the inside. “Oh god,” Izuku choked out, the sight unspooling the last thread of his control. His body clenched, a white-hot wire snapping, and his pussy spasmed, gushing wet heat that soaked Katsuki’s cock and thighs and the hay beneath them. It wasn’t an orgasm; it was an obliteration.
His scream died into a broken, continuous moan. Katsuki didn’t stop. “Look at that,” he grunted, his pace turning punishing. “Made a fucking mess. You come just from seeing how deep I am?”
“More,” Izuku sobbed, his voice wrecked. The aftershocks were still rippling through him, but the hunger was worse, a bottomless pit. “Don’t stop, please, fuck me more, I’m your—” The words tumbled out, filthy and true. “I’m your cock slut. Your cocksleeve. Just fuck me, please, I’m an animal fucker, I’m yours—”
Katsuki’s rhythm faltered. A ragged, punched-out sound escaped him. He drove in once, twice more, then stilled, buried to the root, his whole massive frame trembling. Izuku felt the hot, thick pulse of his release flooding him, a claiming so deep it felt like a brand.
Katsuki’s forehead dropped to Izuku’s shoulder. His hands, which had been braced against the floor, came up to cradle Izuku’s face, his thumbs rough on his tear-streaked cheeks. “Look at me.”
Izuku blinked, dazed. Katsuki’s crimson eyes were wide, unguarded, shattered. All his sharp edges were gone. “Say it again,” he whispered, his voice raw.
“I’m yours,” Izuku breathed, the truth of it settling into his bones. “I’m your cock slut. Your animal fucker.”
Katsuki kissed him. It was nothing like before—no claiming, no violence. It was slow, deep, and devastatingly tender. He tasted like salt and sweat and something like wonder. When he finally pulled back, he was still inside him, still connected. “Mine,” he said, the word a soft echo in the space between their mouths.
He shifted then, carefully, pulling out. Izuku whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and used and profoundly perfect. Katsuki gathered him, ignoring the mess, and pulled him against his human chest, turning them so Izuku was half-sprawled across his lap, his back to Katsuki’s warm, solid torso. The centaur’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
They sat in the quiet, in the cooling sweat and the scent of sex and hay. Katsuki’s chin rested on top of Izuku’s head. “You broke me, Deku,” he murmured into his curls, the admission quiet as the dust motes in the starlight.
Izuku turned his head, nuzzling into the muscle of Katsuki’s arm. “You feel broken to you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “To me, you just feel real.”
Katsuki’s arms tightened around him. He didn’t speak again for a long time. Outside the loft window, the stars wheeled, indifferent to the small, shattered world they’d just rebuilt in the hay.