The bookstore was a cavern of warm light and quiet chatter, the air thick with the smell of paper and coffee. Izuku trailed a finger along a shelf of fantasy novels, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Beside him, Katsuki stood with his arms crossed, a study in impatient energy, while Shota and Hizashi bickered softly by a display of garish holiday cookbooks.

"I'm telling you, the man has three spatulas already," Shota muttered, his voice a low, exhausted rumble.

"But this one is shaped like a reindeer, Sho! It's festive!" Hizashi’s excited whisper carried across the aisle, making Izuku smile despite his nerves. He glanced up at Katsuki, whose crimson eyes were already fixed on him.

"See anything you like, nerd?" Katsuki’s voice was a quiet gravel next to his ear.

Izuku swallowed. "Maybe in the back." The words came out softer than he intended, a breathless confession. He saw Katsuki’s jaw tighten, a flash of heat in his gaze that had nothing to do with books.

"You two okay back there?" Hizashi called, adjusting his glasses as he peered around a shelf. "We're gonna hit the music section. Meet by the registers in twenty?"

"Fine," Katsuki barked, not looking away from Izuku.

As soon as the older couple’s footsteps faded into the gentle store music, Katsuki’s hand found the back of Izuku’s neck, his grip firm and grounding. "Where?"

"Storage corridor. Past the employee door." Izuku’s own hand trembled as he pointed toward a dimly lit, unmarked hallway near the restrooms. "I saw it when we walked in."

Katsuki didn’t reply. He just steered him forward, his broad body shielding Izuku from the sparse afternoon crowd. The employee door was propped open with a wedge, revealing a short hallway lined with cardboard boxes and a single flickering fluorescent light. Katsuki pushed him inside, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft click, muting the world to a distant hum.

The space was cold and smelled of dust and ink. Izuku turned, his back against a tall box, his green eyes wide in the half-light. Katsuki crowded into him, one hand braced on the box above Izuku’s head. "You’ve been thinking about this all day," he stated, his other hand coming down to palm Izuku through his jeans. Izuku gasped, his hips jerking forward into the rough contact. "Your little plan."

"Yes," Izuku breathed, his fingers fumbling for Katsuki’s belt. "I want to. I want to take all of you. I want to choke on it." The raw, filthy words felt like a surrender, and he saw the shock and fierce approval blaze in Katsuki’s eyes.

Katsuki unfastened his own pants, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It was already fully hard, the uncut head flushed and leaking. Izuku dropped to his knees on the cold linoleum, the position feeling both reverent and deviant. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, opening his mouth, and took the broad head inside. The taste was salt and musk, purely Katsuki. He moaned around it, the vibration making Katsuki hiss.

"That’s it," Katsuki growled, his hand tangling in Izuku’s green curls. "Show me."

Izuku pushed further, letting the thick girth stretch his lips, his jaw already aching. He breathed hard through his nose, relaxing his throat as he’d read about, and sank down another inch. The sensation was overwhelming—the heat, the weight, the pulsing vein against his tongue. He gagged, tears springing to his eyes, and pulled back with a wet gasp, saliva dripping down his chin.

"Again," Katsuki commanded, his voice tight. Izuku obeyed, taking him deeper this time, until the head nudged the back of his throat. He choked, his body convulsing, but he held himself there, his eyes watering as he looked up. Katsuki was staring down at him, his expression a terrifying mix of awe and ravenous hunger. "Fuck. Look at you."

Izuku didn’t wait for permission. He took a ragged breath through his nose and pushed forward, forcing his throat to open around the massive intrusion. For one impossible, shuddering second, the entire thick length was buried in his mouth, his lips pressed to the coarse hair at the base. He felt it—the heavy, pulsing fullness blocking everything. He gagged violently, his body jerking, and tore himself off with a wet, strangled gasp, ropes of spit and pre-come connecting his chin to Katsuki’s cock.

“Fuck,” Katsuki breathed, his hand tightening in Izuku’s hair to the point of pain.

Izuku’s vision swam with tears. He blinked them away, his own breath coming in heaving pants. Without a word, his trembling fingers went to the hem of his holiday sweater. He yanked it over his head, then the t-shirt beneath, discarding them in a heap on the dusty floor. The cold air of the storage corridor hit his bare skin, making his small, puffy nipples peak instantly into hard, sensitive buds.

“What are you doing, nerd?” Katsuki’s voice was low, strained.

Izuku looked up, his green eyes dark with want. He brought his own hands to his chest, circling his nipples with his delicate fingers. A sharp, sweet shock of pleasure made him gasp. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Uncle Kacchan.” The title was a deliberate, filthy caress. “With your whole cock down my throat. Make me gag. Make me choke. Make it rough. Fuck me up.” He arched his back, presenting his chest, his fingers still working his nipples. “Make me drool on my own tits.”

He opened his mouth wide, his pink tongue laid flat, an offering. A challenge.

Katsuki stared down at him, his crimson eyes burning. For a long moment, there was only the sound of Izuku’s panting and the distant hum of the store. Then a low, rough sound tore from Katsuki’s chest. “You greedy little slut.”

It wasn’t an insult. It was reverence.

His hand left Izuku’s hair to cradle his jaw, his thumb pressing against Izuku’s bottom lip. “You asked for it.”

He guided the slick, leaking head back to Izuku’s waiting mouth. Izuku took it eagerly, sucking hard, his tongue swirling. Then Katsuki’s other hand returned to his hair, fisting tight. He didn’t start slow.

He pulled Izuku forward onto his cock in one brutal, controlled thrust.

Izuku’s throat opened in a reflexive, gurgling choke, his eyes flying wide. Katsuki held him there, buried to the hilt, for three agonizing seconds. Izuku’s hands flew up to claw at Katsuki’s thighs, his body convulsing, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. He couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed to the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming presence filling him.

Katsuki pulled him back until just the tip remained, letting Izuku drag in a desperate, wheezing breath. “Again,” Katsuki growled.

He shoved him back down. Harder. Faster.

The rhythm was punishing. A deep, relentless plunge that battered the back of Izuku’s throat, each thrust punctuated by a wet, choking gag. Spit dripped freely from Izuku’s stretched lips, slicking his chin, dripping onto his bare chest and pert nipples, just as he’d wanted. The sounds were obscene—the slap of skin, the guttural choking, Katsuki’s ragged grunts.

Izuku’s hands fell away from Katsuki’s legs, going instead to his own jeans. He fumbled the button open, shoved his hand inside, and found his soaked, aching clit. Two frantic circles and his back arched off the boxes, a silent scream around the cock fucking his mouth as a hot gush of slick soaked his jeans and the floor beneath him. He squirted, untouched and overwhelming, his vision whiting out.

Katsuki felt it—the violent clench of Izuku’s throat around him as he came. It tipped him over the edge. With a final, deep grind, he emptied himself down Izuku’s throat, his own hips stuttering. “Swallow it,” he commanded, his voice raw.

Izuku did, gulping convulsively, tears and spit and come mingling on his face. Katsuki slowly pulled out, his cock sliding free with a wet pop.

Izuku collapsed, his forehead resting against Katsuki’s thigh, coughing and gasping for air. His whole body trembled, spent and shaking. A strand of saliva and seed stretched from his ruined mouth to Katsuki’s softening length.

Katsuki looked down, his own breathing heavy. He used his thumb to wipe the mess from Izuku’s chin, then smeared it over one of Izuku’s peaked, slick nipples. Izuku whimpered, the sensitive nub tightening further under the rough touch.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Katsuki muttered, his voice thick with something like awe.

Izuku turned his head, nuzzling into Katsuki’s hand, his eyes closed. “You made me one.”

From the other side of the door, the faint, cheerful sound of Hizashi’s laugh echoed down the hallway.

Katsuki’s body went rigid. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans, fastened them. “Get dressed. Now.”

The command was back, the moment of vulnerability sealed shut. Izuku pushed himself up on unsteady limbs, reaching for his discarded shirts. The air felt freezing on his wet skin.

Izuku’s whisper was a raw, broken thing against the cold fabric of Katsuki’s jeans. “It felt so good.”

Katsuki’s hands, which were zipping his own fly, stilled. He looked down at the top of Izuku’s messy head, his expression unreadable. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant store hum.

“What did?” Katsuki’s voice was low, a graveled demand.

“Choking on you.” Izuku lifted his head, his face a ruin of tears, spit, and come. His green eyes were glazed but fiercely clear. “Not being able to breathe. Just… taking it. Taking all of you.”

Katsuki stared. His jaw worked, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He didn’t move to help Izuku dress. He just watched him, his crimson eyes burning holes into the confession.

“You’re fucked in the head, nerd,” Katsuki finally said, but there was no heat in it. It sounded like awe. Like a prayer.

“I know.” Izuku’s trembling hands found his t-shirt on the floor. He didn’t put it on. He just held the soft fabric, his knuckles white. “I’ve never… I didn’t know it could feel like that. Like I was disappearing. And it was just you.”

Katsuki crouched down suddenly, putting them eye to eye in the dim corridor. The movement was so fluid, so predatory, it stole Izuku’s breath all over again. Katsuki’s hand came up, his thumb rough as it swiped through the wet mess on Izuku’s cheekbone.

“You were perfect,” Katsuki muttered, the words so quiet they were almost lost. “A perfect, greedy fucking mess.”

He leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It was a claiming, a searing brand that tasted of salt and their shared release. Izuku whimpered into it, his body swaying forward, desperate for the contact.

From beyond the door, Hizashi’s cheerful voice called out, “Shota, have you seen the new art books? They’re supposed to be back here somewhere!”

Katsuki broke the kiss as if electrocuted. He shoved Izuku’s t-shirt at his chest. “Move. Now.”

Izuku fumbled the shirt over his head, his arms feeling like lead. The cold air bit at his wet nipples through the cotton. Katsuki was already yanking Izuku’s holiday sweater down, his movements efficient and rough. He picked up Izuku’s discarded jeans, holding them open.

“Step in.”

Izuku obeyed, using Katsuki’s broad shoulder for balance as he stepped into the denim. The fabric was cold and damp against his sensitive thighs. Katsuki pulled them up, his fingers brushing the wet patch at the crotch. He paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze locking with Izuku’s, before fastening the button and zipper with a sharp tug.

“Can you walk?” Katsuki asked, his voice all business.

“Yes.”

“Then walk. Head down. Don’t look at anyone.” Katsuki ran a hand through his own spiky hair, a futile attempt to look normal. He grabbed Izuku’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “And wipe your fucking face.”

Izuku used the sleeve of his sweater, scrubbing at his mouth and chin. The wool was scratchy. It smelled like dust and sex.

Katsuki listened at the door for a second, then pulled it open. The bright, warm light of the bookstore hallway flooded the storage corridor, making them both blink. The sound of soft jazz and turning pages replaced the intimate silence of their hiding place.

They stepped out. Katsuki immediately moved to block Izuku from the view of the main aisle, his body a broad, protective wall. Izuku kept his head down, his heart hammering against his ribs, the ghost of Katsuki’s cock still a heavy memory in his throat.