The air in Izuku’s bedroom was thick with sweat and salt and the sharp, sweet scent of their fucking. Katsuki lay on his back, Izuku a warm, heavy line against his side, a leg thrown over his thighs. Their lips moved together slowly, languidly—not hungry now, but savoring. A lazy exploration of taste, of breath. Katsuki’s hand traced idle patterns on the damp skin of Izuku’s lower back.

They parted by millimeters. Katsuki’s eyes were open, fixed on the dark ceiling. His voice, when it came, was scraped raw and quiet. “What do you want out of this, Izuku?”

Izuku went still for a heartbeat. Then he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow. The green of his eyes was almost black in the dim light. “That’s a dangerous question, Kacchan.”

“Answer it.”

“I already have.” Izuku’s thumb brushed Katsuki’s bottom lip. “Every time. I want you.”

“That’s not an answer.” Katsuki turned his head, meeting that gaze. “You have me. You’ve had me. In hotel rooms, on balconies, in hallways, in fucking four-ways. You broke me weeks ago. So what’s the endgame?”

Izuku’s smile was a small, fragile thing. It didn’t reach his eyes. “You think this is a game with an end?”

“Everything ends.” Katsuki’s voice was flat. The lawyer’s voice. “That’s the only thing I know for sure. So what’s the settlement you’re after?”

Izuku leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep. When he pulled back, his breath ghosted over Katsuki’s mouth. “I want you to look at me across the breakfast table and not see her son. I want you to come to my bed not because you’re desperate or angry or hiding, but because it’s your bed, too.”

“Then why did you tell me to marry your mother?” Katsuki’s voice was a low rasp, the words hanging in the sweaty dark. “If you wanted me to look at you across a breakfast table. If you wanted my bed to be yours. Why didn’t you just tell me to marry you?”

Izuku’s breath hitched. He didn’t move away. His thigh, still thrown over Katsuki’s, tensed. “You wouldn’t have.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’m nineteen. You were her lawyer. It wasn’t a question anyone would have asked.” Izuku’s fingers traced the stark line of Katsuki’s collarbone. “It was the only way to get you close enough to touch.”

"Bullshit," Katsuki said, the word low and final. He turned his head fully, his red eyes capturing Izuku’s in the dim light. "That’s bullshit, and you know it. I would have run off with you the moment you asked."

Izuku’s breath stopped. His fingers, still tracing Katsuki’s collarbone, went rigid. "You don’t mean that."

"I do." Katsuki’s voice held no lawyer’s evasion now, only a brutal, quiet certainty. "You should’ve asked."

A shudder worked through Izuku’s body, a full-body tremor that Katsuki felt against his side. Izuku’s gaze dropped to Katsuki’s mouth, then back to his eyes, searching for the lie. He found none. The playful seducer was gone, stripped away. What remained was something younger, rawer. "You were her lawyer. You were going to be my stepfather. It was impossible."

"Nothing’s impossible." Katsuki’s hand came up, cupping Izuku’s jaw. His thumb brushed over the freckled cheek. "You made the impossible happen every time you touched me. You just chose the version that would hurt the most."

"I wanted you to break," Izuku whispered, the confession torn from him. "I wanted you to choose me when it was the worst thing you could do."

"You got it." Katsuki’s thumb pressed against Izuku’s bottom lip. "So now what? We keep fucking in secret until your mother finds out? Until I lose my license? Until the world burns down?"

Izuku leaned into the touch, his eyes closing for a second. When they opened, they were wet. "You want a roadmap? I don’t have one. I just have you. Here. Now."

"‘Now’ isn’t enough anymore." Katsuki’s voice was gravel. "I’m in your bed. I’m inside you every chance we get. You own me. So own it. Tell me what the fuck we’re doing."

Izuku shifted, swinging a leg over Katsuki’s hips to straddle him. The movement pressed their bodies together, sweat-slick skin sliding. He looked down, his green eyes dark. "We’re ruining a perfectly good marriage. We’re proving that the right person at the wrong time is still the right person. We’re… we’re choosing each other. Every time."

"Even if it destroys everything?"

"Especially then." Izuku bent down, his lips a breath from Katsuki’s. "You’re the one who said you’d have run off with me. That means part of you wanted the destruction, too."

Katsuki shook his head, the motion sharp against the pillow. His hands came up to grip Izuku’s hips, holding him in place. “No. That’s not enough. I want more. I need more. More of just you.”

Izuku went still atop him, his breath catching. “More how?”

“All of it.” Katsuki’s thumbs dug into the soft flesh where Izuku’s thighs met his ass. “Not just the fucking. Not just the secrets. I want the days. The boring shit. I want to know what you’re thinking when you’re not trying to wreck me.”

A slow, shaky exhale left Izuku’s lips. He settled his weight more fully onto Katsuki, the damp heat of his pussy a brand against Katsuki’s stomach. “You have that. You’re here.”

“Here is your bedroom at three in the morning. Here is the space between your mother’s obliviousness and my guilt.” Katsuki’s voice was low, relentless. “I’m talking about a room that’s ours. A life.”

Izuku laughed, a soft, broken sound. He leaned down, his curls brushing Katsuki’s cheeks. “You’re a divorce lawyer. You know what happens to stolen lives. They get divided up in court.”

“Fuck the court.” Katsuki’s hands slid up Izuku’s back, pulling him down until their chests pressed together. He could feel the frantic beat of Izuku’s heart. “You asked me to choose. I’m choosing. Now tell me what ‘more’ looks like to you. Not the fantasy. The reality.”

Izuku was silent for a long moment, his face buried in the crook of Katsuki’s neck. His lips moved against the skin there, the words muffled. “It looks like you coming home to me. It looks like your toothbrush in my holder. It looks like… not having to be quiet.”

Katsuki’s arms tightened around him. The image was so simple, so devastatingly domestic it made his throat ache. “I want that too.”

“You can’t have it.” Izuku lifted his head, his eyes glistening. “You’re married to my mom. You live in her house. The life you’re describing… it requires a destruction you’re not ready to cause.”

“I’m ready.” The words were out before Katsuki could weigh them, and they yhe found, with a startling clarity, that they were true. “I’ve been ready since the first time you called me Daddy when she wasn’t in the room.”

Izuku shuddered. He rocked his hips, a slow, grinding motion that made them both gasp. “Then prove it. Don’t just talk about a life with me in the dark. Go turn on a light.”

Katsuki stared up at him, at the fierce, challenging hope in those green eyes. He understood the command. It wasn’t about a lamp. It was about stepping out of the shadows they’d been fucking in for weeks. He shifted, rolling them both until Izuku was beneath him, the sheets whispering around them.

He didn’t reach for the lamp. Instead, he lowered his head and took Izuku’s mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. It tasted like salt and truth. When he broke away, they were both breathing hard. “The light’s on,” he muttered against Izuku’s lips. “I’m looking at you. Only you.”

Izuku’s hands came up to frame Katsuki’s face. His thumbs swept over the sharp cheekbones. “Then what’s the next step, Kacchan? In this reality you want.”

Katsuki kissed him again, slower this time. He poured every impossible promise into it. When he finally spoke, his lips brushed Izuku’s with each word. “The next step is you. Tomorrow. And the day after. Until ‘more’ is just… what we are.”