Katsuki pushed the cabin door open, Eijiro a step behind him, and the air left his lungs.

Izuku was straddling Denki’s lap on the edge of the bed, their bodies a tangled, moving silhouette in the low light. Denki’s hands were buried in Izuku’s green curls, Izuku’s fingers digging into the meat of Denki’s shoulders. The sound was wet, hungry—the slick slide of tongues, soft gasps for air stolen between deep, open-mouthed kisses.

They broke apart slowly. Izuku’s lips were swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded. A string of saliva connected their mouths for a second before it snapped. He looked over Denki’s shoulder at the two older men frozen in the doorway.

“Hey, Daddies,” Izuku breathed, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his freckled face. Denki turned his head, nuzzling into Izuku’s neck, his bright yellow eyes fixed on Eijiro with playful ownership.

“Took you long enough,” Denki murmured, his voice husky.

Katsuki’s jaw was a rigid line. “What’s this?”

“This,” Izuku said, shifting his hips deliberately in Denki’s lap, drawing a soft moan from his friend, “is the preview. The main event requires… audience participation.”

Eijiro’s voice was a rough scrape. “Izuku, what are you talking about?”

Izuku slid off Denki’s lap, standing barefoot on the cabin floor. He was only in a pair of soft, low-slung shorts. Denki followed, stretching like a cat, his own shorts clinging to his hips. They were a united front, young and utterly in control.

“You want us?” Izuku asked, his gaze locking on Katsuki. “You want this?” He gestured between his own body and Denki’s. “Then you have to show us you mean it. Both of you.”

Denki nodded, stepping closer to Eijiro. “Strip each other. Touch each other. Then you can touch us.”

The silence was thick, charged. Katsuki stared at Izuku, at the defiant lift of his chin, at the promise in his green eyes. This was the threshold, the price of admission spelled out in brutal, simple terms.

Eijiro turned to Katsuki, his red eyes wide with a mixture of horror and a dark, dawning understanding. “Katsuki…”

“You heard them,” Katsuki said, the words torn from somewhere deep and resigned. His hands, the hands that drafted airtight prenups, went to the buttons of his own shirt. He didn’t look away from Izuku. “You want this, too. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He shrugged the shirt off. His chest was broad, defined, a map of old discipline. He took a step toward Eijiro. His best friend. His partner. The man who had stood beside him at the altar hours that felt like years ago.

Eijiro didn’t back away. He lifted his own hands, clumsy, and began fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. Katsuki batted his hands away. “Let me.”

His fingers were surprisingly deft. He gripped the fabric and pulled it up and over Eijiro’s head, exposing the solid, muscular planes of his friend’s torso. The air between them was cool. Their breathing was the only sound.

Izuku and Denki watched, silent now, their eyes burning.

Katsuki’s hand, calloused and warm, came to rest flat on the center of Eijiro’s chest. He could feel the frantic beat of his heart, the heat of his skin. It was just a touch. It was a seismic shift. Eijiro shuddered, a full-body tremor, and his own hand came up to wrap around Katsuki’s wrist. Not to push him away. To hold him there.

Katsuki’s hand slid from Eijiro’s chest. His eyes, fixed on the worn floorboards, were vacant of everything but resolve. He dropped to his knees. The old pine groaned. The denim of his pants was rough against his skin. He knelt before his best man, his partner, the witness to his ruin. Eijiro made a choked sound above him.

“Kats, don’t—”

“He is,” Izuku corrected softly from the bed. His voice was a velvet command. “He’s showing you how much he wants it. How much he wants *us*.”

Denki hummed in agreement, curled against Izuku’s side. “Look at him, Ei. He’s all yours right now. Better than any closing argument.”

Katsuki’s breathing was loud in the quiet. He didn’t look up. His hands, resting on his thighs, were clenched into loose fists. The fly of his pants was tented, the heavy outline of his cock obvious and straining against the fabric.

Eijiro stared down at the crown of ash-blond hair. The man was a pillar in court, unshakeable. Now he was on his knees. Eijiro’s own cock, thick and half-hard, twitched against the fly of his shorts. The betrayal was a hot coil in his gut. The arousal was hotter.

“Touch him, Eijiro,” Izuku whispered. “You have to touch him, too. That’s the rule.”

Eijiro’s hand lifted, trembling slightly. He cupped the back of Katsuki’s head. The spiky hair was surprisingly soft. He felt Katsuki tense, then exhale, a shuddering release of air that warmed Eijiro’s navel through his shorts.

“Unbutton them,” Katsuki said, his voice gravel. He still didn’t look up.

Eijiro’s fingers fumbled with the button of his own shorts, then the zipper. He pushed them down his hips. His cock sprung free, full and heavy, the tip already slick. The air was cool on his heated skin.

“Now you, Daddy,” Denki said to Katsuki, playful and sharp. “Show him you’re serious.”

Katsuki’s hands went to his own belt. The buckle clinked. He shoved his pants and boxers down in one rough movement. His cock, thick and uncut, lay heavy against his stomach, the head flushed dark and wet. His low-hanging balls tightened in the cool air. He was fully exposed, kneeling.

Izuku’s breath hitched audibly from the bed. “Look at you,” he murmured, a reverent, hungry thing. “Both of you.”

Eijiro’s thumb stroked the short hairs at Katsuki’s nape. The gesture was almost comforting. It was also a guide. “Katsuki,” he breathed, the name a question and an answer.

Katsuki leaned forward. His nose brushed the coarse hair at the base of Eijiro’s cock. He inhaled, the musk of him, salt and skin and shame. His lips parted.

“Wait,” Izuku commanded.

Katsuki froze, his mouth a breath from contact.

“Look at me first.”

Slowly, Katsuki lifted his head. His red eyes were glassy, stripped. He looked past Eijiro’s hip, across the cabin, to where Izuku sat watching, his green eyes dark with triumph.

“Good boy,” Izuku whispered. “Now taste him. Show me you’ll do anything for what comes next.”

“Fuck, Ei,” Katsuki breathed against his skin, the words hot and ragged. “Why you gotta be so fucking huge?”

Then he opened his mouth and took him in.

The first touch was searing heat, wet velvet. Katsuki’s tongue pressed flat against the underside, tracing the thick vein. He felt Eijiro jerk, heard the punched-out groan above him. The taste was salt and musk and pure, undiluted man. Katsuki’s own cock throbbed, a heavy, neglected ache against his stomach.

“Look at that,” Denki sighed from the bed, his voice dreamy. “He’s a natural.”

Izuku said nothing. His breathing had gone shallow, audible in the quiet cabin. Katsuki could feel the weight of his stare like a brand between his shoulder blades.

Katsuki sank deeper, his jaw stretching. Eijiro was thick, filling his mouth completely. He hollowed his cheeks, sucked, and the low moan that vibrated through Eijiro’s frame was a tangible thing. A large, trembling hand settled more firmly on the back of Katsuki’s head, fingers threading through blond spikes.

“Kats,” Eijiro choked out. “God, your mouth…”

Katsuki pulled off with a wet sound, panting. A string of saliva connected his lips to the slick, flushed head. He didn’t break eye contact with Izuku. “Happy?” he gritted out, the question raw.

Izuku’s green eyes were dark, pupils blown. He shifted on the bed, his thighs pressing together. “Don’t stop. You’re not done proving it.”

“He’s right, Daddy,” Denki chirped, rolling onto his stomach to watch more closely. His own small hands were tucked under his chin, a picture of innocent voyeurism. “Show us how much you want it. Make him feel good.”

Eijiro’s thumb stroked Katsuki’s temple, a gesture so at odds with the obscene context it made Katsuki’s chest ache. “You don’t have to,” Eijiro murmured, but his hips gave a shallow, betraying thrust.

“Yes, he does,” Izuku said, his voice dropping to a possessive whisper. “For me.”

That was the key, the final turn of the lock. Katsuki’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. Then he leaned forward again, taking Eijiro back into the wet heat of his mouth, deeper this time. He worked him with a focused, relentless rhythm—suck, stroke, swallow. The sounds were filthy, intimate: wet friction, ragged breathing, the creak of the bed as Izuku and Denki moved closer to the edge.

Eijiro’s control began to fracture. His hips stuttered, pushing forward in shallow pulses. The hand on Katsuki’s head tightened, guiding him not with force, but with a desperate need. “So good,” he gritted out, his other hand fisting at his side. “Fuck, Kats, you’re so fucking good at this.”

Katsuki’s own need was a tight, screaming coil in his gut. He reached down, wrapped a fist around his own neglected cock, and gave it a rough, punishing stroke. The relief was immediate, blinding. A groan vibrated around Eijiro’s length.

“Look at him,” Izuku breathed, enthralled. “He’s touching himself for you, Eijiro. He’s getting off on this.”

“That’s so hot,” Denki moaned, squirming against the sheets. “Ei, you gonna come in his mouth? You gonna give it to him?”

Katsuki pulled off with a wet, ragged sound, his mouth slick and swollen. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his red eyes sharp with a final, desperate boundary. “I’ll do a lot of things,” he panted, the words gritty. “But I draw the line at taking Ei’s cum in my mouth.”

Denki’s bright laugh cut through the heavy air. He propped his chin on his hand, his yellow eyes gleaming. “What about in your ass?”

The silence that followed was electric. A current shot through the cabin, tightening every muscle. Izuku’s breath caught, his green eyes widening with sudden, rapturous possibility. Eijiro, still hard and throbbing in Katsuki’s grip, went utterly still.

Izuku’s lips curled into a slow, victorious smile. “Yes,” he breathed, the word a sigh of pure want. “Yes, that’s it.”

Eijiro swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His red eyes met Katsuki’s, searching for refusal, finding only a shattered resignation. A low, defeated sound escaped Katsuki’s throat. It wasn’t a no. It was surrender.

“Come here, Daddy,” Izuku commanded, his voice soft but leaving no room. He patted the bed beside him. “On your back.”

Katsuki moved like a man in a dream. He pushed himself up from the floor, his knees aching, and laid back on the bed. The sheets cool against his heated skin. Izuku immediately shifted, gathering Katsuki’s head into his lap. Freckled thighs cradled him, the scent of Izuku’s skin—clean sweat and something sweet—filling his senses. Izuku’s fingers carded through his sweaty blond spikes, a possessive, soothing rhythm.

“Legs open,” Izuku murmured, his thumb stroking Katsuki’s temple. “Show them.”

Katsuki let his knees fall apart, exposing himself completely to the room. The air kissed his inner thighs, his heavy balls, the tight furl of his asshole. His own thick cock lay against his stomach, weeping a clear bead onto his abs.

Izuku looked across the bed at Denki, his green eyes dark with intent. “Lick him. Get him ready for Eijiro.”

Denki grinned, all sunshine and filth. “With pleasure.” He slithered off the bed and knelt on the floor between Katsuki’s spread legs. His yellow eyes drank in the view. “Wow, Daddy. You’re all… open for us.”

Eijiro stood frozen by the bed, his red hair a mess, his cock still hard and glistening from Katsuki’s mouth. He watched, his expression a war of horror and hunger. “Kats…”

“Don’t,” Katsuki gritted out, staring up at Izuku. “Just fucking don’t.”

Denki leaned in, his breath hot against Katsuki’s perineum. He didn’t start with his tongue. He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Katsuki’s thigh, then another, working his way inward with a teasing slowness that made Katsuki’s muscles jump. Katsuki’s hands fisted in the sheets.

“Relax,” Izuku whispered above him, his fingers tightening in Katsuki’s hair. “Let him in.”

Denki’s tongue finally touched him—a flat, wet stroke over his balls, then a deliberate, circling press against his entrance. Katsuki jerked, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. The sensation was obscene, intimate, a violation that sent a shock of heat straight to his cock.

“He’s so tight,” Denki moaned, his voice muffled against Katsuki’s skin. He laved at the clenched ring of muscle, his tongue pressing insistently, wetly. The sound was filthy, wet and soft in the quiet room.

Eijiro made a choked noise. He was watching, his own hand drifting down to fist his cock, his strokes slow and mesmerized. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Izuku’s breathing had gone shallow and fast. Katsuki could feel the slight tremor in the thighs beneath his head. “Is he opening up for you, Denki?” Izuku asked, his voice strained.

“Mmmhmm,” Denki hummed, the vibration making Katsuki curse and arch off the bed. “Getting all soft and wet for me. For Ei.” He pushed the tip of his tongue inside, a shallow, slick penetration.

Katsuki cried out, the sound raw and broken. His hips gave an involuntary, helpless thrust up into the air. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. The dual sensations—the humiliating, exquisite pleasure at his ass, and the safe cradle of Izuku’s lap holding his head—shattered the last of his coherence. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Look at him,” Izuku murmured, awe in his voice. His fingers traced the shell of Katsuki’s ear. “He’s coming apart.”

Izuku’s gaze snapped to Eijiro. He saw the hunger warring with horror, the way his red eyes were locked on the wet, glistening place where Denki’s tongue worked. “You want to,” Izuku stated, his voice low and certain. “Take over. Lick him open for yourself.” He shifted his eyes to Denki. “You. Get Ei’s cock nice and wet. Use your mouth. Use everything.”

Denki pulled back with a slick, popping sound, grinning up at Eijiro. “You heard the man. My turn with you.” He rose to his knees, his hands going to Eijiro’s hips to pull him closer. “C’mere, big guy.”

Eijiro moved as if pulled by strings. He lowered himself to his knees on the floor, displacing Denki, who immediately shuffled to the side and wrapped a hand around the base of Eijiro’s thick cock. Eijiro’s broad shoulders blocked Katsuki’s view of the room. All he could see was the intense focus on his friend’s face, the way his red hair stuck to his damp temples.

“Look at me,” Katsuki gritted out, the command ragged.

Eijiro’s eyes met his. There was an apology in them, and a brutal, honest want. He didn’t speak. He simply leaned forward, his breath hot against Katsuki’s sensitized skin, and replaced Denki’s tongue with his own.

The difference was seismic. Denki’s tongue had been playful, skilled. Eijiro’s was broad, hot, and deliberate. He laved a firm, wet stripe from Katsuki’s balls all the way up to his entrance, and Katsuki’s back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from his throat. Izuku’s fingers tightened in his hair, holding him steady.

“That’s it,” Izuku whispered, his own breathing shallow. “Get him ready for you.”

Beside them, Denki took the head of Eijiro’s cock into his mouth with a soft, humming sigh. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling, his free hand cupping Eijiro’s heavy balls. The dual sensation—Eijiro’s tongue spearing into his ass while Denki serviced him—made Eijiro groan, the vibration shooting straight through Katsuki.

“Fuck, Ei,” Katsuki panted, his hips lifting helplessly. Eijiro’s tongue was relentless, pressing inside, stretching him in slow, wet circles. It was more intimate than anything before. This was his best friend. The taste of him was now inside Katsuki, and the violation was so profound it tipped into a dizzying, unavoidable pleasure.

“He’s opening up so pretty for you,” Denki murmured around Eijiro’s cock, pulling off with a wet sound. He leaned over, swiping his tongue up the length of Eijiro’s shaft, gathering spit and pre-cum. “So soft and hungry. You wanna fuck him, don’t you? You wanna ruin your best friend?”

Eijiro pulled back, his mouth slick and shining. His voice was a rough, ragged thing. “Yes.”

The word hung in the air. A confession. A sentence.

“Then do it,” Izuku commanded, his voice trembling with anticipation. “He’s ready. Take what’s yours.”

“Do it, Daddy,” Izuku breathed against Katsuki’s mouth, his fingers tightening in his hair. “Take him. Show me how much you want this.”

Katsuki’s hand shook as he reached down, his fingers wrapping around the thick, slick base of Eijiro’s cock. The heat of it was a brand against his palm. He guided the broad head to his entrance, the blunt pressure making his breath stutter.

“Look at me,” Izuku whispered, and Katsuki did, his red eyes wide and wrecked. Izuku kissed him, deep and claiming, just as Katsuki pushed back, forcing himself onto Eijiro’s cock.

The stretch was brutal, exquisite. A sharp, burning fullness that stole the air from Katsuki’s lungs into Izuku’s mouth. He groaned, a raw, broken sound muffled by the kiss, his body arching. Eijiro’s hips jerked forward, sinking deeper with a choked-off curse.

“Fuck, Kats,” Eijiro gasped, his hands flying to Katsuki’s hips, his fingers digging in. “You’re so… tight.”

Izuku broke the kiss, panting, his lips slick. “All of it,” he commanded, his green eyes locked on where they joined. “Give him all of it, Ei. I want to see him take every inch.”

Eijiro obeyed, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he pushed forward, a slow, relentless invasion that made the old bedframe groan. Katsuki’s knuckles were white where he gripped Izuku’s thigh, his mouth open in a silent scream as the thick length buried itself inside him.

“Holy shit,” Denki breathed, kneeling beside them, his yellow eyes wide. He reached out, tracing the stretched line of Katsuki’s abdomen. “You can see it. You’re so full, Daddy.”

“Move,” Izuku said, his voice trembling with hunger. “Fuck him. Ruin him.”

Eijiro pulled back, the drag agonizing and sweet, and thrust back in. The rhythm was jagged at first, all shock and overwhelming sensation, but it quickly found a brutal, driving pace. The slap of skin filled the room, wet and sharp.

“That’s it,” Izuku moaned, his own hips rocking up into the air, seeking friction. He cradled Katsuki’s head, whispering filth into his ear. “Feel him? That’s your best friend. He’s inside you. You’re never getting him out.”

Katsuki could only gasp, each drive of Eijiro’s hips punching the air from his lungs. The pain had melted into a deep, radiating pleasure, a fullness that rewired his thoughts. His own cock, laid out on his hard stomach, leaked profusely.

“You like it,” Eijiro grunted, his own control fraying. His thrusts became harder, deeper. “Your fucking body loves it.”

“He does,” Izuku answered for him, kissing Katsuki’s temple. “Look at him. He’s crying.” It was true. Silent tears tracked through the sweat on Katsuki’s temples. “My perfect, ruined Daddy.”

“Eat,” Izuku commanded, his voice husky as he shifted his weight, moving from cradling Katsuki’s head to straddling his face. He lowered himself, the soft, shaved skin of his pussy pressing against Katsuki’s open, panting mouth. The intimate, musky scent filled Katsuki’s nostrils, and his tongue moved instinctively, lapping at the wetness already gathered there. Izuku gasped, his hips rocking forward. “That’s it. Clean me up, Daddy. Taste what you do to me.”

Beside them, Denki knelt on the bed, his body swaying to the rhythm of Eijiro’s thrusts. He shuffled closer, bringing his own cunt to hover near Eijiro’s face. “Your turn, Ei,” he purred, threading his fingers through Eijiro’s sweaty red hair. “Don’t be shy. Lick me while you wreck your best friend.”

Eijiro groaned, the sound strained, but he turned his head, his broad tongue swiping a wet, desperate stripe through Denki’s folds. The taste was tangy, different from Katsuki’s skin, and the dual focus—fucking into a tight, clenching heat while his mouth was filled with another—made his thrusts stutter, then deepen.

Katsuki’s world narrowed to sensation: the brutal, filling stretch of Eijiro’s cock driving into him, and the silken, dripping weight of Izuku on his mouth. He sucked and licked, his tongue seeking Izuku’s swollen clit, and was rewarded with a sharp cry and a flood of wetness that soaked his chin. Izuku’s thighs trembled on either side of his head.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” Izuku moaned, his hands braced on the headboard. He looked down, his green eyes glazed. “You’re so good at this. You were made to service me.”

Denki giggled, the sound breathy. “He’s good too, Izuku. Look at him go.” He ground himself against Eijiro’s mouth, his own head falling back. “Harder, Ei. Fuck him harder. I wanna feel you lose it.”

Eijiro obeyed, his hips snapping forward with a renewed, punishing force that shook the bed. Each thrust pushed Katsuki’s face deeper into Izuku’s pussy, and each hungry, wet pull of Katsuki’s mouth made Izuku clench and cry out. The cycle was relentless, a feedback loop of shared ruin.

“You’re both ours,” Izuku panted, his voice breaking. “Look at you. A respected lawyer, eating his stepson’s cunt while his partner fucks his ass. You’re nothing but our toys now.”

Katsuki’s eyes rolled back, tears and spit and Izuku’s arousal mixing on his skin. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He could only take and give, his body a conduit for their shared degradation. His own cock, untouched and leaking steadily onto his stomach, ached with a need so profound it felt like grief.

“Gonna come,” Eijiro grunted against Denki’s skin, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal. “Kats—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Izuku commanded, his own hips stuttering. “Fill him up. Mark him. I want to feel you shake him apart.”

Eijiro’s control shattered. With a raw, torn shout, he buried himself to the hilt, his body locking as he pulsed deep inside Katsuki. The hot, sudden flood triggered a convulsive clench in Katsuki’s gut, and his muffled scream vibrated against Izuku as his own orgasm ripped through him, striping his abdomen with white.

The simultaneous climax tipped Izuku over the edge. He threw his head back, a sharp, keening cry tearing from his throat as he squirted, a hot rush flooding Katsuki’s mouth and chin. Denki followed with a shuddering gasp, his own release soaking Eijiro’s jaw.

Eijiro collapsed forward, his forehead resting on Denki’s thigh, his cock still spasming inside Katsuki. Izuku slowly lifted himself off Katsuki’s ruined face, looking down at the mess he’d made with a satisfied, exhausted smile.

They collapsed into a tangled, breathless pile on the ruined sheets, a mess of limbs and cooling sweat. Katsuki’s head found Izuku’s chest, and Izuku’s arms wound around him, pulling him close. Their mouths met in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of salt and surrender. It was tender, a shocking contrast to the violence of their joining moments before. When they finally broke apart, Katsuki’s voice was a ragged scrape against the quiet.

“Still not a four-way relationship,” he muttered, his eyes closed, his face buried in the hollow of Izuku’s throat.

Denki, who was draped over Eijiro’s back, let out a dramatic whine. “Oh, come on! That was so hot!”