Work Text:
The mountain is cold, and dark.
Yawning latticeworks of tunnels eat through its insides like branching veins; crumbling ruins rot. No one who’s been inside in recent memory makes it out—travelers and adventurers are swallowed alike. A maze of tunnels with nothing good awaiting those who find the center.
And yet, Izuku sets down their paths.
It’s an old, old place. Over the centuries, its insides have been carved into a riddled honeycomb, peoples of many kinds making their home inside. Izuku thinks there may’ve been goblins at the very beginning, but their history is hard to see; better known are the dwarves who set up residence later, and turned this peak into something glorious. Grand hallways, towering pillars; floors of stone polished mirror-smooth, a labyrinth of tunnels.
It sits silent, now; empty and abandoned for many, many years. Sometimes Izuku can walk, sometimes he must crawl through tunnels collapsed like old arteries. It feels both lonely and forbidding, as if missing the company it once had but not welcoming more. He leaves tracks behind him in the thick dust that dulls shining stone, his movements silent with the help of spells he’d bought. Moving like a ghost through this lost place; searching for the sole remaining inhabitant. Most of this place is a cold skeleton now, left to rot and decay as he moves through its hollow bones. But he knows it yet has a beating heart.
When he starts to feel heat wash over his face, he knows he’s heading the right way.
Izuku descends through the honeycomb of tunnels, and follows the warmth.
-
Izuku, you’re such a freak!
Monster-lover.
-
When the villagefolk living at the base of this mountain had told him of this place, he had been reminded—as he often was—of the old insults he’d used to be called as a child. For when they spoke of what he would find at its center, it had been with fear: warning him not to go, telling of adventurers like him who’d never returned.
And all he could feel was excitement.
This place is dark, for the most part, black stone and no light as he travels through tunnels and makes notes on his map. He can only see because of spelled goggles he’d bought to assist his vision, and occasional enchanted gems set into walls which still give off weak light. Still trying their best, centuries on from their making. Izuku appreciates that. This place is old, and sad, but he can see the care and skill that went into making every inch of this place. Even old and broken things still have value.
When he feels that press of heat on his skin though, his pace quickens and his attention jumps away from everything else.
I’m close.
-
In the hot heart of the mountain shines stars.
Izuku enters the heat like walking into the sea; it envelops him whole. His spelled goggles barely help; the dark sits like a warm, living thing that coils about him, pressing at his eyes, heat sliding down his throat.
And then the tunnel opens up—and light spills out as if the moon itself had been stolen and set down like a pearl in a clam.
Before him spills a section of the heavens, torn down and scattered upon the earth.
Great walls curve into darkness, so far he cannot see their end. The ceiling is nothing but black abyss. Broken pillars and ruins of old structures sit crumbling; giant chunks of fallen stone sit on jagged starbursts of broken floor. And over it all…spills a multitude of stars.
Izuku stops and stares.
Silver and diamond stretch before him in rolling hills. Cold metals, shimmering opals; glittering crystals clear as water. A horde of treasure enough to make gods weep, yet all he can think is… how beautiful it is. It’s all the glory of the night sky, placed somewhere one can reach. A dark firmament above; stars touchable below.
And then something in those piles shifts; slithers; and Izuku sees what he’s been searching for start to surface.
From the sea of silver rises an immense white dragon.
Izuku’s breath catches in his chest.
Metal shifts as a long neck lifts, serpentine; then a body larger than Izuku can fathom moves from beneath the shimmering mass. The sound of spilling treasures beyond measure is amplified a thousand-fold, and Izuku stands transfixed amidst a cacophony like ringing bells as the great figure unfurls itself.
Great white wings rustle on its back as it adjusts, slender bone and pale skin shifting to offset weight. The neck is a beautiful curve, the head sharp and reptilian. Two horns of pale bone crown the skull, swept back in sharp lines. The whole of it shimmers; white ripples as it moves, pale reds moving across scales as their angle changes in the light, like mother-of-pearl.
Izuku gapes, eyes wide.
It’s beautiful.
That great head swings around, far off and high above. Searching. Izuku takes a nervous breath, grateful for his safeguards; he’s spelled both silent and invisible.
“I can smell you, sneakthief.”
His heart stops.
Oh. Oh no.
He... hadn't thought of that.
The dragon’s head swings to him; his heart spasms in his chest.
"Come out, little thief."
Izuku's eyes go wide as those words, dark and smooth, echo strangely in his ears. Syllables slither and loop coils about his will. A sudden urge to obey whispers to life, subtle but insistent. Because why not? This is the dragon's home, he is trespassing. He should reveal himself, apologize—
He catches himself about to remove the spelled necklace keeping him invisible and shakes his head sharply, taking a step back. His head feels foggy—he pushes past it. Serpent tongue… a draconic gift. It's exciting to experience it first-hand, but he must resist.
Shifting treasure strikes another clamorous chorus as the beast moves… towards him.
His heart stutters. He backs up a few steps, careful to avoid any debris. He may be silent and unseen, but what's around him certainly is not.
"I can smell you," the dragon hisses again, low, sibilant, slowly stalking forward. Its mouth opens, red and wet; a long, slick tongue licks sharp teeth as it inhales, tasting air.
Izuku’s stomach does something funny, fear curdling with… something else. He almost forgets to back up again as the dragon advances.
"Come out, trespasser. Come to me. Your scent isn't… displeasing. Why don't you show yourself?" Another low hiss snakes through the air; the head turns, searching. "I'd like to properly greet my guest."
That long tongue licks the air again; Izuku's tummy gives another shiver. He forces himself to keep backing up, and focus on resisting the dragon's commands. It's sneaking them into its speech, subtle and quick and alluring. Come to me. The desire to remove his necklace and reveal himself pushes at his mind, mixing easily with his fascination with the beast. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad— no, I’m not a fool— but he's always wanted the chance to talk to a magical creature—
His foot catches on fabric, unexpected, and he stumbles. Some gems scatter, and the quiet noise echoes…
and echoes…
and echoes.
The dragon snaps around.
Izuku’s stomach drops.
Shit.
He turns to run—but it's too late.
The beast pounces with a snarl, crossing the distance instantly, and a cry—silenced, unheard—is wrenched from his throat as one mighty claw slams him to the ground.
“Got you, sneakthief .”
That red mouth opens above him, sharp rows of teeth gleaming. Deep in the dragon’s throat, Izuku sees a bright light begin to swell.
Terror strikes lightning-hot in his veins and quick as he can, he dispels his silence enchantment and furiously wriggles a hand up to his neck to yank the invisibility necklace off, breath coming fast.
“Wait! Wait wait wait hang on hang on, please, I only want to talk I only want to—”
The light pauses.
Slowly… the maw closes. The head turns so one giant eye—a cold, icy blue surrounded by a patch of burnt-black scales—can stare down.
“Really.”
“Yes!” Izuku says in a rush. “I’m here to—to s-see you, speak to you. I—I heard of your—your strength, and beauty, and had to see it for myself.” Good, yes, that’s near truth—the speaking part wasn’t planned, but otherwise…
A harsh laugh leaves the dragon’s mouth.
“Beauty? I doubt that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Izuku says immediately, before he can think better of it, because even as fear hums in his veins he can’t take his eyes off that cold reptilian eye, those shimmering scales. “If anything, the stories don’t do you justice.”
The creature… pauses.
That eye looks at him assessingly.
“So… not just a thief,” it murmurs at length, “but a silvertongue as well.”
“I’m not lying,” Izuku says quickly, breathless, tense. “I swear! Test me if you like.”
Interest sparks in that cold eye.
“Alright…” the dragon says after a pause. “Let’s see if you’re actually honest—or a liar, like the rest of your brethren.”
That giant claw lifts; Izuku sucks in a shaky breath.
“Remove your weapons.”
Izuku has to take a moment to still the trembling in his hands enough to do so; he doesn’t even bother standing up, for fear his knees will give. A primal fear weighs him down, yet whispering over it is a sense of awe and excitement. He can’t believe he’s so close to a dragon—a dragon! It’s everything he ever dreamed of as a child. Izuku the monster-slayer—or monster-tamer, or monster-friend, depending on his mood. He’d liked monster-friend best… but the other children had mocked it most, so he’s since kept it to himself.
He removes his weapons and enchantments and awaits the monster’s judgment.
“And the rest.”
Izuku blinks, and looks down at himself.
“I—there is no more.”
The dragon gives a disbelieving hum. “And I’m to trust your word?” That tongue flicks the air. “Strip.”
Izuku stiffens as the command twists through the air and melts into his thoughts. Unbidden, something warm also sparks in his belly.
Why not? He’s the master here after all, it’s his home—
His fingers are going to the ties of his shirt before he can stop them.
-
When his clothes are off, the dragon eyes him assessingly.
And then, in a movement where the air itself seems to still, and pressure builds ‘til Izuku near cannot breathe—the beast shifts. In a handful of seconds the world twists, and suddenly where monster had been now stands… a tall young man.
Izuku stares, naked and gaping.
Two pale spurs of bone sweep back from his head; his hair is strangely coloured, red on one side, white on the other. His form is pale and muscled, his face a sharp, inhuman kind of handsome—save for an old scar of twisted, burnt flesh ringing one of his eyes. His only clothing seems to be a white cloth draped over his hips; and behind him rest two large wings, white flesh wrapped tight over bone.
Then he kneels between Izuku’s legs, and Izuku jerks back to attention.
“You are different from the humans who came before,” the man says, head tilting to the side in a motion almost bird-like. More subtle than the man’s horns and wings, it still triggers an old instinct in Izuku that recognizes it as inhuman. That, and his voice. It's too smooth to be human, dark velvet that slips over his skin like a caress.
“And…now, this is a surprise,” the dragon continues, gaze dragging down Izuku’s body. Izuku feels his skin prickle, and resists the urge to cover his chest. “I didn’t realize I was speaking with a lady knight.”
Izuku swallows.
“Yes, that’s…that’s because you’re not. I’m not a knight and…I know I look like this but, uh, I am a man. Like, um…” he looks at the figure before him, all pale, muscled beauty, and feels a distracting heat pulse between his legs. He flushes, and looks away. “Like how you’re still a dragon, even though you now look like…this.”
“Ah.”
This seems easily accepted as the dragon’s attention immediately turns elsewhere, sharp eyes moving down Izuku’s body. A hand reaches out; Izuku freezes as a sharp, clawed finger taps the one thing left on his body. A small, plain, star pendant necklace.
“I thought I said to strip.”
Izuku tenses.
“I... I’m sorry. That’s… it’s nothing of value, it’s just… it’s from my mother. I always wear it.”
That sharp visage blinks; the head tilts again in that strange, birdlike motion. Those eyes stare at the plain, pewter-grey star on his chest.
And then the man leans forward, and inhales — one deep, long breath over Izuku’s skin, as if sampling the scent of a meal. He hovers over his chest…then his neck. Izuku’s pulse beats hummingbird-quick as the man pauses by his throat, both fear and a distracting heat prickling at his skin. He wishes he could close his legs, but the dragon is in the way.
“You’re right,” he says, and that sharp, clawed finger traces a line from the star up to Izuku’s shoulder. Gooseflesh follows. Izuku starts as that hand grips the base of his neck.
“There’s nothing of value here.”
That grip tightens.
“Tell me, silvertongue. Why should I let you live?”
Sharp eyes meet his. Izuku shrinks in on himself.
“Why are you here? Tell me true.”
Izuku’s breath hitches as the command whips out, viper-quick.
“I... I came to see you,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m not a thief, I just… I was curious.”
Those eyes narrow. “And now?”
“I… I’m frightened,” Izuku says, unable to stop the naked truth from escaping. “But you’re just as fierce and beautiful as I thought you’d be.”
An almost-sneer on those lips freezes—there’s a flicker of surprise.
“Beautiful?”
Izuku nods, struggling to fight through the grip the command has on him and failing.
“Beyond any I’ve seen before.” Fuck, he can’t stop. “I’m sorry for disturbing your rest. I’d like to make it up to you.”
Doubt joins the surprise on that handsome face, but so too does intrigue. And something… else.
Those eyes flick down, over his body, then back up. The hand gripping the join of neck and shoulder moves to cup the side of his throat.
“You’ve little to offer.”
Izuku’s heart thrums in his chest; he tries frantically to get his thoughts under control, but they’re moving without him now, spilling deeper desires he’s never wanted to see light. Tell me true. He’s not done that in many years, too used to getting mockery in return. His heart seizes as he finds himself leaning closer to this dangerous creature; the beast’s mismatched eyes go wide.
“You can take whatever I have.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“... What’s your name, human?”
“Izuku,” Izuku breathes, heart a panicked staccato against his ribs as heat swells under his skin, shameful thoughts he’d usually repress coming to the fore of a foggy mind. Freak. Monster-lover.
The dragon cocks his head—and leans in.
“I’m Shouto,” he says, and Izuku trembles as the man’s breath washes over his lips. His eyelashes are distractingly long and pretty; Izuku starts when the man looks back up, and the eyes of a predator fix on his.
“Make amends as you wish, trespasser.”
Izuku cannot stop himself from closing the distance and joining their lips.
There’s a moment where he thinks that’s where it might end; there’s no reaction from the beast, and Izuku, inexperienced, doesn’t know what to do.
Then the dragon is pressing forward, pushing Izuku down onto the cloth that had tangled his feet—and when he rejoins their mouths, there is nothing shy about it.
-
No one would ever want you, freak.
Useless deku! You’ll be alone ‘til you die.
-
The dragon—does not know restraint.
Izuku supposes it makes sense; they are infamously greedy creatures.
His skin burns under its touch as large hands start to roam his body, arrange his limbs; heat flares to life in his belly as the beast splays his thighs and brings their hips together. Izuku can feel his hardness, and it makes fire crawl up his veins even as his breath quickens. He can feel himself growing wet, aching arousal starting to surface even as part of his mind tries to rebel against the honey-sweet fog blanketing it. Wait, wait, I’m not ready, it’s too fast—
The dragon bends over his neck to suck in a hungry breath, and Izuku can feel the hot wash of breath on his skin when he exhales with an appreciative hum.
“Mm. How is it a sneakthief smells so good…”
Izuku shivers.
“Relax,” the dragon says, and a long, shuddering breath leaves him as the command hits, twisting his thoughts into a jumble. The dragon licks a line across his skin, a hand groping his chest. Arousal jumps; Izuku gasps.
“Give in. Let yourself feel it.”
Heat sparks…then flares in Izuku’s gut as if the dragon itself had breathed it there himself, sudden and wild and hungry. He whimpers and twists as need abruptly throbs between his legs, demanding. Unbidden, one of his hands swings up to desperately grab at the dragon’s shoulder.
“Please,” he gasps, aching, thoughts blurring with sudden, overwhelming desire. Distantly he can tell this isn’t natural—and yet, doesn’t want to stop it. As if this wasn’t what you wanted anyway, freak. He ignores the thought. “Please…”
The dragon looks up. Their gazes meet—
—and to Izuku’s surprise, the beast reaches up and runs a thumb across the tender skin beneath his eye.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, and Izuku feels his cheeks heat. No one has ever said such a thing to him before.
The dragon lifts a little, hovering over Izuku’s face. His gaze lingers on Izuku’s eyes; he cups his cheek like something precious.
“I don’t have emeralds in my collection,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’d be a fine addition.”
Izuku blanches. Alarm forces clarity back to his thought.
“W-wait, no—please—I, I’ve people I need to return to, that are expecting…”
Izuku’s hurried attempt to convince this creature not to keep him like a trinket dies as something flashes over the man’s face at the words. Something almost sad—or envious.
“Of course,” he murmurs, gaze dropping. Izuku tries to decipher what had just passed so quick… but his attempt dies when a hot hand reaches between his legs, and slips between slick folds. He gasps, thoughts scattering once more as his partner slips a finger inside him. His eyes screw shut as pleasure lances out, far stronger, far more sensitive than normal.
“This will do, then,” the dragon—Shouto—says quietly, and Izuku tries to answer, to ask after that unexpectedly melancholic tone—but that finger inside him moves and then is joined by another, and his attempt is thwarted by the moan that crawls out his throat. His free hand flies up to grab the dragon’s other shoulder; his head swims, thick with slithering, honeyed tones. Give in.
With a shuddering moan, he does.
He gives as the creature slips a third finger inside him; gives as a thumb presses and rubs where he throbs hardest, sparking red-hot pleasure and making him mewl. Gives as a hand gropes his flesh; gives when the man bends to kiss him, when an unnaturally long tongue slips into his mouth.
And he does even more, unasked for, unbidden.
He kisses back; he presses in. His hips buck, and his hands move from shoulders to back, feeling the smooth jut of those strange wings. They shiver at his touch. Memories of whispered insults and clawing doubts melt away; he feels both drunk and unfettered, dizzy and free.
He throws his head back with a throaty moan when Shouto finally slides inside him; whines and wraps his legs around those slim hips. Gods he’s big, and shaped oddly; soft, hard, ridged. It’s… good.
“More,” he gasps, and shudders when he feels Shouto grow even hotter. He shivers, tenses; the dragon groans as he tightens about him. Izuku pulls him closer.
“More,” he says, pleading—and the dragon gives.
Izuku hardly feels human as he’s fucked on silken cloth, crying out like a whore; hardly feels there at all as Shouto burns hotter and hotter above and inside him, panting and groaning. He shows no mercy, and Izuku asks for none; only writhes, hands gripping at flesh, at the horns atop Shouto’s head, at the cloth beneath him when the dragon snarls at the touch and grabs Izuku’s legs to bend him near in half, wings flaring.
The air between them has turned sweltering, as hot as the dizzy fog inside his head that fills him with a desire strong enough to meet Shouto’s. He can feel sweat beading on his skin, dripping along his body; his legs burn, and his body burns hotter. Shouto’s pace is punishing; Izuku’s world narrows to the pounding pleasure between his legs, building to a breaking point. He cries out as it swells, tears pricking at his eyes, and blinks past the blur.
Above him, Shouto has turned animalistic; moving with a frenzy, hair wild, teeth sharp in an open, snarling mouth. His eyes glow and burn.
Izuku reaches up to him, feeling that immense heat coil tighter and tighter under his skin.
“Shouto—”
That gaze snaps to his, and Izuku has enough time to read surprise in it—at what, the reaching hand, his name?—before that coil inside him unravels like a whip.
His whole body arcs as heat roars up his spine, swallows vein and bone whole. He tosses his head back with a cry; mouth open, straining. He feels undone, inhuman; the moment when kindling is consumed. The only point of reality is where his hand whips up to grab Shouto's arm, clinging to him as if to remember that Izuku is more than something writhing and wailing and about to burst out of its skin.
Above him, through the ringing in his ears, he hears a loud snarl, then a groan—and feels a rush of wet heat between his legs.
He instinctively clenches down, hears another groan; gasps and shudders and finally reaches his own peak, a moment of white blindness, the core of a candleflame. It rushes through him in a roar of sound and light.
When it leaves him, he feels empty; burnt clean.
He collapses down hard on the crumpled silk beneath him. Shouto’s weight falls atop him; he realizes he’s still clutching the dragon’s arm, and lets go. His fingers are wet.
They share a few moments of silence, save for heavy, panting breaths. Shouto’s skin is so hot it prickles his skin like burning sand; sweat pools in the dips of Izuku’s body, rolls slickly down his skin.
Eventually, the dragon sits up and moves back.
Izuku’s reaching for him before he can think better of it; then he remembers himself and pulls his hand back, embarrassed. He tries not to notice the dragon’s eyes following the movement.
“Your amends are made,” the man says quietly as Izuku sits up, eyes still on his hand; Izuku follows his gaze, and with an unpleasant jolt sees red. He looks quickly to Shouto’s arm, and finds smears of blood where Izuku had held him tight.
“Oh— oh, I’m so sorry—” he starts, mortified—but the dragon raises a hand.
“This is nothing. A fellow dragon would’ve left much worse.” The man’s lips twitch; Izuku’s eyes widen at what might almost be a smile. Shouto’s looking at the wound now, with something almost like… happiness, in a bittersweet way. “It’s good, to have a mark.”
Izuku… pauses, unsure what to say. His head is slowly clearing, though the space between his legs still dully aches. He realizes the dragon has not yet issued another command.
“Am I… free to go?”
The man’s gaze snaps back to him, and the almost-smile on his lips drops.
“Yes.”
Izuku swallows; and, slowly, stands up.
-
The only person who’d love you would be an even bigger freak. One of your monsters! No one normal would ever like you, deku.
-
When Izuku is clothed once more and ready to leave, he—hesitates.
He turns back to the dragon. He’s still sitting on that ream of crumpled white silk, naked and beautiful, great wings splayed behind him. Imposing as he is, he’s still dwarfed by the mountains of silver about him and the even greater abyss of the dark, empty place he calls a home.
He looks almost lonely.
The dragon meets his gaze. All while Izuku had dressed, he had hardly looked away.
Izuku shuffles his feet, words sticking in his throat.
“I... ”
He stops, struggles—and gives up.
“... goodbye.”
The dragon nods.
“Goodbye.”
Izuku turns to leave.
“Will you—”
He whirls around; the dragon, for all that he’d been the one to call out, looks caught off guard at the sudden movement. There’s a beat of silence.
“Will you… be returning?”
Izuku stares.
“Would… you like me to?”
The dragon looks away—to Izuku’s shock, he thinks he catches a faint dusting of pink across those pale cheeks.
“It is not necessary.”
There’s another moment of silence.
Izuku… stands frozen. Torn, conflicted, unsure what to do. In his head whisper old jeers—but beneath them shifts a deeper, truer desire, recently pulled to the surface and the stronger for it.
He takes a shaky breath.
“Yes.”
Shouto’s head whips around; wide eyes stare at him in shock.
“You… give your word?”
Izuku swallows.
“Yes.”
The dragon hesitates; Izuku sees doubt flicker over fine features.
A liar, like the rest of your brethren, slips into his memory, flashed with teeth and scorn. It seems Shouto trusts humans as little as they trust him.
He thinks quick—hesitates—then steels himself.
He reaches under his shirt, and removes his mother’s necklace.
“Here.”
He walks forward; when he holds it out, the dragon—though with confusion on his face—lifts a hand to take it.
They both stare at the plain, gray star on his pale palm.
“I know it’s not very valuable, but… it’s worth a lot to me,” Izuku says quietly. “You can trust I’ll come back for it.”
There’s a moment’s silence; Izuku holds his breath. Most dragons would be offended to be handed such a cheap trinket.
Shouto lifts the necklace… and carefully places it about his neck.
Izuku breathes out. Shouto looks up.
“I will take good care of it.”
His expression is serious. Izuku feels a rush of relief.
“Thank you.”
The dragon nods.
Then, he reaches to the side—and Izuku’s eyes go wide as he fishes about in a treasure pile and comes out holding a necklace of his own: one of shining silver, with a clear drop of diamond at its end. It’s astonishingly beautiful.
Shouto holds it out to him.
Izuku’s eyes get even wider.
“W… wh…”
“For you,” the dragon says. “You can return it when you come back.”
Shocked, Izuku opens his mouth to protest… but then closes it. To refuse a dragon’s gift would be foolish.
He takes the slender chain and pulls it over his head. The crystal shines on his chest, resplendent. He eyes it mournfully; he must look even plainer by comparison.
Shouto tilts his head, and reaches out a finger to trace that pure drop of light. He looks up.
“It suits you.”
Izuku starts, moroseness abruptly waylaid.
His cheeks heat.
“I… t-thank you.”
Shouto retracts his touch. For a moment, Izuku is seized by a strange urge to bend down and kiss that serious face. Remove the melancholic tilt to those lips.
He does not.
Instead, he dips a shallow bow, and leaves.
The cavern walls loom dark ahead of him as he heads back, all the darker for what he’s leaving behind. The necklace sits heavy; he stills its swaying with a hand. He’ll need to hide it away once he gets outside. It would be foolish not to hide something so valuable, so… precious.
No one would ever want you, freak.
He takes a breath and wraps his hand around the gem dangling on his chest. Its surface is smooth and cool, soothing in his palm. Someone does want him, he reminds himself. He carries the proof of it like an anchor about his neck — and Shouto does the same.
He takes another breath…and lets the anxiety of what people might do if they discovered the details of what he’s done starts to recede. Perhaps like this necklace, he may need to hide it.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t treasure it.
He casts one last look behind him just before he enters the tunnel leading outside. Shouto is hard to see from here, a distant figure of red and white, but Izuku swears it seems he too is yet staring at Izuku.
He holds the gem tighter; his heart lifts.
Oh, yes.
He’ll definitely be back.