Chapter 0 - brats who like to pull hair

Katsuki likes to pull hair. That feels like a fact to Iida before it’s ever confirmed, and he might have felt a sense of pride about guessing it so accurately, but he feels that there's nothing to be proud of, as far as lewd thoughts are concerned. Not to mention the fact that anything resembling pride goes right out the window when it's his hair being pulled.

He tells the other boy that it's disgraceful to treat him like this, and even worse to do something like this at school, and to imagine the consequences of them getting caught, and Katsuki tells him that he doesn't give a shit, though he somehow finds a way to make even that sound less pretty than it naturally does. They're doing this, here and now, and Iida is far past the point of backing down.

“Don't be such a damn pussy about everything,” Katsuki snarls.

They aren't dating. There's nothing even remotely resembling a relationship between the two of them, because Iida never wanted to distract himself from more important matters and because Katsuki is not, and never will be, the dating type. And yet they're both young men, with desires that border on needs that keep both of them up at night, that they have to deal with one way or another. Iida tries to cope by ignoring it, by tossing and turning and sighing and gritting his teeth, while Katsuki gives in, irritated to the very end while he takes himself in hand.

Neither of them remain satisfied with their own methods for long, and even when Iida finally, guiltily tries doing things on his own, it’s not enough. Together, things get settled a bit more effectively, but neither is particularly happy about it, and they will never be dating.

“I wasn’t- you shouldn’t say things like that,” is the only response Iida can muster up, and it only serves to annoy Katsuki further.

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up and do something useful, already?!” He grabs Iida by the back of his head then, grabbing his hair and pulling it hard, to intimidate him or to urge him on, or something to that extent. When he refocuses his efforts to shoving Iida down at the shoulder, the other boy is on his knees in no time, and he knows well enough what to do from there. His hands only shake a little bit as he gets Katsuki- already hard- out of his pants.

Even now, he’s always slow, hesitantly wrapping his lips around the boy’s cock, and Katsuki makes an impatient sound, clicking his tongue. He knows that Iida takes his time with this, and that doesn’t make him any less impatient, grabbing him by his hair again, pulling hard as a means of telling him to, “hurry the fuck up.”

Of course, he says that aloud as well, muttering it under  his breath. At his urging, Iida brings him deeper into his mouth, and Katsuki groans. That’s more like it, he thinks, that’s much better for him. He tangles his fingers deeper in Iida’s hair, really messing it up because he knows it’ll piss the other boy off, and he does so love seeing his uptight classmate get riled up and flustered.
In the end, he supposes that’s all this is, besides being convenient. Iida is entertaining as all hell, so that’s why he lets this keep going, that’s why he keeps doing this with him , specifically. And maybe because he knows Iida has just as much to lose, if not more, if this got out, so the secret is definitely safe with him. But that’s all there is to it.

He lets out a low, relaxed groan and rests his hand for a moment, not bothering with pulling for a bit. Even the presence of his hand should be enough to make Iida nervous, after all, and either way, he doesn’t need to be intimidated to do his job right. He’s dutiful and precise even when doing something so sloppy. Katsuki wouldn’t be surprised if he’d made notes of what techniques worked best, because that seems just like the damn overachiever.

He doesn’t mind just being able to relax, and let Iida do everything, rolling his tongue over his cock and bobbing his head, taking him as deep as he possibly can without gagging. It’s fine, letting somebody else worry about everything, until it starts to feel too good, until it’s absolutely driving Katsuki crazy. At this point, he always gets impatient, too impatient to just stand there taking it, when he could be the one giving.

That’s when he starts pulling hair again, and holding Iida’s head just where he wants it before he starts working his hips, jerking and thrusting into the other boy’s mouth. There is no way for Iida to be precise when it’s all he can do to maintain his composure, and Katsuki doesn’t really care when he starts gagging and doesn’t do anything to make it easier on him.

He likes the way his face goes red and tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he likes the way he knows Iida will take quite some time to catch his breath once this is over. The rougher his motions get, the better he feels, and he groans in absolute delight as he’s pushed closer and closer to his orgasm.

“How’s that?” he gasps out. “Huh?! You like that? ‘Course you do, you…” But his voice trails off as he loses his train of thought. He’s far past the point of thinking, far past doing anything rational, and all he can do is wildly buck his hips until he loses himself to pleasure, until he feels himself tipping over the edge.

Iida always bitches and moans about how much he hates swallowing, and Katsuki remembers that in the midst of his bliss, causing him unwanted irritation. He’ll show him, he decides, and he pulls out while he’s still spilling, taking himself in hand so that he can maintain a decent aim. His moan is loud and theatrical and altogether fake, just for the sake of being obnoxious, and Iida doesn’t have a chance to move before it’s all over.

He hesitates before using the sleeve of his uniform- and, oh, Katsuki can tell that it’s paining him to use that- to wipe what he can of his face, but it’s going to take him effort to get his glasses properly clean. While he’s worrying about this, Katsuki straightens up his clothes, making himself look as though nothing transpired.

But, of course, Iida has to be achingly hard by now, because he actually likes this, every bit of this, and that means he’s going to have to help him out with that. As much as he hates that he always does it, he always helps him, always pays him back completely. That’s why he lingers, rather than shuffling off to resume pretending that there’s nothing between them.

“Was that honestly necessary?”

“Shut the hell up,” he mutters. “It was pretty damn funny to me.”

“Yes, but do you have any idea how difficult it will be for me to-”

“Just leave your glasses off for a little bit, then! You don’t have to see me, right?”

“You’re missing the point…” 

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