Chapter Text
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Bakugo Katsuki tried to concentrate on his homework in the common room of his dormitory. He was a top-tier student at UA, but he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t knuckle down and focus on this writing assignment.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Katsuki could feel the dull red haze of his temper start to leak in around the edges of his control. Ever since he started taking those mandatory anger management classes in second term, he’d improved quite a bit at not lashing out angrily as his first, and only, response to frustration. However, sitting at the common room table, he couldn’t keep his attention on the homework in front of him. Instead, all he could hear was the only other occupant of the ground floor. Deku was behind him on the couch, scratching and scratching, like it was his favorite hobby. A low growl began to emanate from Katsuki’s throat.
“Dekuuu…” the growl turned into a name, warning the damn fucker before Katsuki’s slim grasp on his temper slipped out of his control. It was super late at night, he had a fucking essay to write by the next English class, and he was just too tired for this shit. “If you keep scratching like that I’m not gonna be responsible for what I’m gonna do to you.” There. That was fucking polite compared to how he was feeling.
“Oh, sorry, Kacchan. I didn’t realize I was bothering you.” Deku stopped scratching, and Katsuki huffed in acknowledgement. However, a minute later he heard shuffling, repositioning, and a soft, muffled grunt of frustration.
Katsuki whipped around to face the couch behind him. “What the fuck is your problem, Deku?!”
The green-haired boy’s eyes went wide. He was propped awkwardly against the arm of the couch, obviously trying to use the edge as a sort of back-scratcher. He looked like a bear cub trying to find the right position for scratching against the trunk of a tree. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just… ugh… can’t seem to reach, um, this itchy spot on my back.” His emerald eyes widened even more, into sparkling pools of misery and abject pleading. Katsuki watched, mesmerized, as Izuki reached his muscular arms up; one over his own shoulder, and the other pulling on that elbow, trying to reach that spot on his back that was causing him so much trouble. His too-small t-shirt (which read, “night shirt”) did nothing to hide the shifting, straining muscles of his biceps and pecs, not to mention the lifting of the bottom edge, revealing Izuku’s well-defined abs. Katsuki took a moment to swallow the saliva that had stupidly started pooling in his mouth at the sight. “I just can’t get at it,” the little shit-head said with a fucking pout.
Katsuki groaned and closed his eyes. He would never in a million years admit it to anyone (although he had a feeling that Ashido already knew, damnit), but he was weak to that pout. He used to lash out with his fists or at the very least, insults, whenever he felt this weakness, but time and counseling had made him realize that liking cute things was not a fatal flaw in himself that needed squashing. He would try to be cool about it. He slammed his laptop shut, pushed his chair out from the table with a screech, and came around the couch to tower over Deku and his little problem. “Tch. Turn around, nerd. I’ll murder that fucking itch.”
Izuku’s jaw dropped open, but he responded quickly to the order, turning his back to Katsuki. He reached for the bottom hem of his t-shirt, glancing over his shoulder as Katsuki took a seat on the edge of the couch, one leg folded up on the seat. “Should I?” he offered, slightly raising the fabric.
“Huh, yeah, I guess that might help,” Katsuki said, before he really thought it through. Izuku lifted his shirt up over his head and Katsuki was suddenly presented with a beautifully muscled back, reddened slightly with score marks from Deku’s failed attempts to scratch the itch away. In the center, right between his shoulder blades, was an area of nearly pristine, creamy soft skin, unmarred by scratching but sporting a tiny pink dot, clearly the source of all the trouble. Katsuki tentatively gave it a little scratch.
“Oh!” Deku squeaked. “Yes, that’s it!” When Katsuki hesitated, Deku looked back, smiling his sweet-ass smile. “Could you do some more?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” Katsuki made his hand into a cup shape and began to scratch the hell out of that area of skin, probably pressing harder than was necessary, but Deku didn’t seem to mind. In fact—
“Ah, ah, aaaah, YES!” Deku’s head got wobbly on his shoulders and he began to sound like a porn star as Katsuki scratched the problem area. “More, please!” When he brought his other hand up and started scratching a wider area, Deku gasped and moaned. Katsuki shifted slightly, starting to feel his jeans getting a little tight.
Katsuki kept going, feeling the hard muscles under the warm skin of Deku’s back. He’d seen the guy in the gym locker room before, but he’d never had the opportunity to touch before, well, unless you counted punching. Deku was really obviously enjoying the treatment, and kept muttering words of encouragement, like, “Mmm, a little lower, please,” and “Oh yeah, that side too,” so Katsuki didn’t stop. He scratched Deku’s sides, his lower back all the way down to his waistband, and up over his shoulders.
Deku’s whole body seemed to melt and lose cohesion. His head dropped back, and with it, his entire torso, giving Katsuki access to his pecs as the smaller boy leaned back against Katsuki’s chest. Along with his back itch, Deku lost all his usual inhibitions, too, and forgot to be wary of getting too close to his former childhood bully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Katsuki appreciated the gesture of trust, and felt a growing fondness for the boy who once was his best friend, almost a million years ago. Part of Katsuki wanted to shove him off, afraid of the closeness, but by far the largest part of his consciousness was focused on the feel of warm skin, the sound of breathy exhalations and moans, and the gorgeous sight of the ripped torso draped all over his front.
When he began to scratch Deku’s pecs, almost caressing the slightly swelling mounds of muscle, Katsuki knew he was crossing a line. This was not what a bro does for another bro. Even Kirishima, with his lax understanding of boundaries, had never touched Katsuki there. Deku’s eyes were still closed and his breathing seemed to be getting faster. Katsuki wasn’t sure, but he thought there might even be a boner swelling down in Deku’s sweatpants. There certainly was one in his own, although it wasn’t pressed against Deku’s back because of the angle at which he was leaning. “Uh, c-can I?” Katsuki whispered in his ear, head hooked over Deku’s shoulder and fingers scratching gently around his nipples.
Deku gave a gasp, a tiny, jerky nod, and then a shuddering exhale as Katsuki started touching those small, flat nipples. He rubbed them with the pads of his fingers, pinched them gently, then encouraged by the downright filthy noises that action caused, pinched them harder. Deku’s fist flew to his mouth and he bit down on it, barely muffling the cries Katsuki was spurring with his indelicate treatment of those tiny nubs. Katsuki was fascinated, spellbound by the reactions he was causing.
“K-K-Kaachaaan!” Deku’s hips started twitching, and Katsuki couldn’t believe the heady rush he was feeling, just from touching another person. He turned his head and started kissing and nibbling on Deku’s ear, eliciting even more shaking and cries of ecstasy from the smaller boy. Finally, Deku turned his head and looked Katsuki in the eyes. His gaze flicked down to Katsuki’s lips, then back up again. “Are— are you— do you?” He couldn’t seem to string a coherent thought together, but his eyes were full of questions.
Katsuki pulled back. What was he doing? He and Deku hated each other. Well, maybe not anymore. Now, it was more like ‘barely tolerated’, but still… He pulled his hands off the smaller boy and looked at them, like they had been acting on their own, crazy hands, and he didn’t know who was responsible for their actions. “I just— you just sounded, uh. I don’t know.” Deku immediately blushed a dark red that traveled from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. It blended in with the pinkness of the scratched skin and Katsuki could practically feel the heat of embarrassment pouring off of him.
“OhmygoshI’msosorrysorrysorry!” Deku jumped off the couch, and yes, that was an impressive boner he had going on in his pants. He noticed where Katsuki’s attention had gone and grabbed his t-shirt, covering his crotch area with the extra fabric. “I didn’t mean to—“ Deku muttered, grabbing his books, bag, and with a tiny –zing– of green lightning and a –whoof– of rushing air, he was gone.
Katsuki sat, stunned and hard as anything, on the couch. He was absurdly turned on, considering he hadn’t even been kissed or touched, and was having trouble processing the fact that it was Deku’s pleasure that had made him feel that way. He gripped his own dick through his pants, willing it to subside, then got up and shuffled back around the couch to where his computer sat on the table. The goddamn fucking shitty lame-ass essay still had to be written, and it was nearly one a.m.
“FUUUUCK!”