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A gentle touch of the nighttime breeze against his bare skin makes Hawks shiver. It’s unpleasant and yet he still just lies there, naked save for the boxer briefs hugging his hips, and stares, unseeing, at the high ceiling of his penthouse. His feathers are shed, strewn all over the place — on the floor and by the windows, under the bed, around it and even tangled in the blankets. It’s easy, this way, to pick up on every little sound in the room: the second heartbeat, the quiet raspy breathing of the man next to him, and the scratch of staples against the silk sheets every time Dabi shifts in his sleep.
Hawks doesn’t sleep. Not really. Not in the way most people do. What he does is a bit different, and much more efficient — just a few minutes of shutting half of his brain down while keeping one of his eyes open. He’s still vigilant and alert the whole time, ready to rouse at the slightest bit of disturbance. Never fully unconscious, never vulnerable. A part of his quirk the Commission wholeheartedly embraced the moment they learned of it.
Villains never sleep, Hawks, his handlers used to say. Why should you?
Hawks blinks. He rolls on his side, stretching out his wing joints. At once they start to tingle, an unpleasant feeling of static crawling under the skin. He ignores it, focusing on Dabi’s exposed back, purple scars and pale skin stitched together with shiny golden staples. It would be so easy to wiggle a talon underneath those pretty little things, pop them out one by one, and watch the blood slowly seep from the open wounds.
Severing his spinal cord with a feather blade? Well, now, that would be even easier.
And yet Dabi sleeps, peaceful and unbothered, here, in Hawks’ bed, as if he trusted him. Ridiculous. Dabi is the most suspicious motherfucker Hawks has ever met. Bitten and burned and betrayed too many times. Why would he ever leave himself so vulnerable? So open? This must be a test, another one of his ridiculous trials. There’s no other explanation for this, for sleeping next to him, so soft, so pretty, so defenseless–
Unless he knows.
Cold dread washes over Hawks like a bucket of ice. Is that it? Did Dabi find out that Hawks doesn’t have a choice here? That he has to do whatever Dabi asks of him because it’s his mission, a mission he cannot fail, so he will do anything and everything, even if it means this— this, whatever it is.
A laugh threatens to bubble out of him and Hawks shakes with the force it takes to repress it.
Ha.
Dabi knows, doesn’t he?
Hawks’ chest burns with a sharp pain. The next breath he takes is agony but he ignores it, snuffs it out, strong-arms his own organs into proper working order. There’s no other explanation. People don’t just want Hawks around. There’s always something they want. And lately, Dabi has just been using Hawks for the sake of it. Like he enjoyed Hawks doing things for him without much care about what it was.
It felt nice. Too nice.
...It would be smarter to let it go. Without any proof but his own gut instinct, it’d be suicide to confront Dabi with information that he may not even be aware of. He would be incriminating himself, maybe even playing right into the villain’s hands.
But the seed of doubt is already planted, and Hawks knows he won’t be able to repress it this time. Not when his heart is on the line.
So he moves closer, shuffling across the sheets until he can slot himself perfectly behind Dabi. He lays a hand on his thin waist and rubs at the smooth skin there. His fingers travel up, right to the edge of the scar tissue. He feels up one of the staples, flirting with his earlier idea of plucking them out. In the end, he leaves it be and carries on, brushing over the ribs, willing a feather into his hand, and slipping under Dabi’s arm to finally press the vane to the hollow of his neck.
Under the scarred skin, an artery dutifully pumps blood.
Dabi stirs. He gives a sleepy, appreciative groan and shifts in place, thighs rubbing together. A hand comes up to cover Hawks’ own. Then the feather at his throat hardens to a razor-edge sharpness and Hawks feels him freeze. The once peaceful heartbeat speeds up to a rabbit-quick pace and his hold over Hawks’ wrist tightens, heating up in a warning.
“You know, don't you?”
Hawks waits but Dabi doesn’t say anything, just lies there, unmoving, surprisingly calm after the initial startled reaction. Which in itself is an answer. And god fucking damnit, Hawks takes a painful, shuddering breath and moves even closer, practically hissing the next question into Dabi’s neck.
“How much?”
A small vibration in the air — a fluttering of eyelashes as Dabi opens his eyes. “You sure you want me to answer that?”
No.
“Yes.”
Dabi hums, a quiet sound made too loud by the stillness of the night. His hand lets go of Hawks’ wrist only to reach back and brush through unruly blonde locks. It’s so gentle, so effortlessly intimate, it makes Hawks wish he couldn't feel anything at all.
“Do you?” Dabi asks as his fingers cradle the side of Hawks’ face. “...Keigo?”
Ah.
So it’s even worse than he thought. Hawks ignores the warmth of those fingers, ignores how good even that small contact makes him feel and digs his feather harder into the scarred skin of Dabi’s throat.
“How long?”
Dabi doesn’t answer. Hawks yanks him, rough and abrupt, shaking off his hand and pulling him back into his chest. If there was any space left between them, it’s gone now.
“How long?”
Dabi laughs. It’s a beautiful, spine-tingling, heart-shattering sound. “Oh, you silly thing,” he breathes out, light and amused, and Hawks knows he’s smiling. “From the very beginning, of course.”
Fuck... Fuck! Hawks screws his eyes shut, clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, doing anything not to let his body tremble. Because this doesn’t have the right to make him feel this way – he is the spy here, he is the traitor, the deceiver, the predator, the snake in the grass. Not... Not the other way around.
“What are you doing here then? If you never trusted me—” Hawks cuts himself off, throat heavy with words he knows he would be foolish to voice. “Is this a game to you?”
“Is it to you?”
...It’s not fair. It’s not fair feeling like this and not knowing if it’s real, if he’s getting played, if he let himself fall for a goddamn villain like a motherfucking fool that—
The feather softens. It slips through Hawks’ slack fingers and falls to the bed, forgotten as he shakes, body and mind falling apart. His vision gets blurry, brain too scrambled to decipher the feedback from his quirk, and he feels exposed. His arms wrap around Dabi before he can even think about it, and Hawks holds on to him like a lifeline.
Because he did. He fell in love. He lost. No matter what happens next, he is going to lose something. Maybe everything. What… What is he supposed to do now?
“...I've never felt this way before.”
“Birdie—”
No, he can’t listen to Dabi right now. He clamps a hand on his mouth, cutting him off, and Dabi lets him do it, lets him gasp and tremble for a long agonizing minute as Hawks tries to piece himself together again, face hidden in Dabi’s hair.
“I hate everything you stand for,” Hawks begins, small and quiet like a confession. “You’re a villain. You’ve killed people. You’ve kidnapped literal fucking children. You want to ruin the world I’m working so desperately to fix. I despise your morals and abhor your actions."
Under his fingers, Dabi’s mouth twitches, as if suppressing a scowl. Hawks allows himself a small smile, endeared even by this. He swallows, clogged throat working with difficulty as he tries to gather enough strength for his next words.
“But if anyone tried to hurt you,” he pauses, bile rising just at the thought of this happening. “I would kill them.”
Dabi’s breath hitches, his chest expanding as he inhales sharply through the nose. Hawks listens to his heartbeat. He lets the warmth of Dabi’s body seep into his own skin, focusing on the familiar smell of his own shampoo on inky black hair.
“I cannot breathe when I think of you dying. Of the anger inside you getting too big, too hot for you to handle and consuming you entirely. You’re so hellbent on getting what you want, I can see that you don’t care if you live or die. And at first I wanted to use that, let you self-destruct just so I could make my mission easier.” The words flow easier now, the dam of lies broken, everything spilling out of him in a tidewave. His eyes still sting with unshed tears, a pressure behind his browbone slowly building into a full-on headache. “But I want you to live, I want you to be happy and I want to be the reason for it.”
Hawks’ arms tighten around Dabi’s chest when he moves, his muscles tensing as if he wanted to turn around. Dabi grabs at him, half-heartedly trying to dislodge his arms but Hawks just rubs his forehead against the back of Dabi’s head then dips lower to nestle into the crook of his neck. The pulse there was picking up speed again.
“I know I shouldn't. I know it's bad. You're a villain but you're so good to me. Just seeing you makes me feel better. I know you’re probably just using me like everyone else but you do it so kindly that sometimes… I pretend that— That—”
Hawks sniffles.
Dabi tugs at him more urgently, his legs kicking out weakly as muffled sounds spill from under the hand still covering his mouth. Tough luck. Hawks is stronger than him, physically at least; If Dabi has something to say, he will wait for his turn to speak.
Hawks takes a deep breath. He thinks back to just a few hours ago when they cooked dinner together. Or rather when Hawks cooked dinner while Dabi loitered around, picking at everything Hawks was doing until he succesfully provoked the hero into bending him over the kitchen island and fucking him stupid. After reheating the food, they ate in the living room and languidly made out on the sofa while a movie played in the background. Later, he carried Dabi to the bathroom, where they took a bath together, and Hawks put burn cream on Dabi’s scars and let him preen his wings in turn. It was pleasant. It was domestic. And it wasn’t the first time they spent an afternoon together like that but it was the first time it felt almost like a routine.
Like it could be their life.
It got into Hawks’ head. He’s never felt so good, so possesive of someone in his entire fucking life. He couldn’t keep his hands off Dabi, didn’t want to leave him for even a second. Even when they stumbled to the bed together, he insisted on cock-warming Dabi until he fell asleep with Hawks’ head between his thighs, the villain more than happy to indulge him.
Afterwards, Hawks lay awake staring at the ceiling, marvelling at the unfamiliar sense of bone-deep satisfaction making everything in his head warm and fuzzy.
It was foolish of him to think he could keep that.
“...I should have kept my mouth shut, huh? Play my part a little longer. But out of everything in my life, I wanted this to be genuine. And if it isn’t, ha, well, good job! Well played! You won.”
Dabi throws his head back. Hawks hugs him tighter, sends feathers to pin down his legs and cooes into his ear. Dabi pushes back into him stubbornly, the swell of his ass pressing into Hawks’ pelvis, the ridges of his spine digging into Hawks’ chest.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I am tired, Dabi. I am so fucking tired.” Hawks chuckles, mournful and yet his mouth quirks into a smile. “All I ever wanted was to be a good hero. To help people. To be useful. To prove to my parents that I wasn’t a mistake. To just— matter. Mean something to someone, you know? And I thought that— being a hero would give that to me. That I would be happy to sacrifice myself for the greater good. For Japan. For society. But I just feel like trash again, thrown to the wolves, no matter if I live or die.” He laughs, struggling to get enough air back into his lungs to breathe. “They took everything from me, I let them take everything from me, willingly, with a smile, with hope, and they just— wasted it! They ruined me and I let them. Dabi, I—”
Why is it so hard to say this out loud? Why does it hurt? Why is he humiliating himself so thoroughly in front of the person who could ruin him so easily?
“I wanna live! I wanna be happy,” Hawks sobs, gasping for breath, falling apart all over again. Selfish, so selfish, he’s always been so selfish, how could he ever think he would make a good hero? “But I don't feel alive anymore unless I am being used. And you use me so— You just— You treat me like I belong to you already. Like I’m your favourite swiss knife, like I’m your pet. And I like that. You can keep me in your pocket all you like. I feel good when I do things for you, when you let me take care of you, when I can just stay by your side and be there for you.”
The fight is going out of him. His limbs grow heavy, a weight pulling him underwater. His grip on Dabi relaxes and he swipes a thumb beneath his eye, careful with the scars and the staples. Something there is wet.
“You look at me like I make you proud, and I forget I’m not supposed to love you.”
Hawks lets his hand fall to the bed. Dabi stays still, stays quiet, even with his mouth now uncovered.
“...I don't know what to do anymore. So use me all you want. Tell me what to do. Just be nice to me, just keep me near you and don’t leave me behind, and I will do anything for you, okay?”
He feels spent. Like all the poison has been purged from his system but he still lies here, paralyzed, waiting on Dabi’s final judgment, hoping it's either merciful or quick.
Dabi turns around.
Hands seize Hawks’ face in a firm yet gentle grip as Dabi surges forward, pushing him flat on the bed and rolling on top of him. Even in the dark of the night, his eyes look electric, wide and shimmery, will-o-the-wisps leading him to safety or doom. The joy in them is unmistakable and it spreads uncontrollably over Dabi’s features like a wildfire, lighting up his whole face.
Happy. Dabi looks happy.
Hawks’ lips quiver, pushed back to the edge of crying again.
"I love you,” Dabi says, rushed and breathless, like it’s his first gulp of air after drowning for years. “I love you, you crazy motherfucker. I knew you were made for me. I knew you would see it. I knew it. I knew it!” It’s giddy, laced with frenzied laughter. There’s blood oozing between shiny staples. Hawks can’t look away. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Hawks. Keigo. Fuck me. Right now. C'mon. Breed me, you fucking animal."
Dabi shoots up, sitting on his knees and reaching back to push Hawks’ boxers off him. Hawks is too dazed to do anything besides gasp when a hand grabs his cock and excited, heated fingers start stroking him. It’s dizzying how fast his blood rushes south.
“Oh, those bastards don’t know what they’ve just lost!” Dabi crows, gleeful, teeth glinting in his open mouth. When he looks back at Hawks, looks down at him, with a heaving chest and his Adam’s apple bobbing, Hawks can’t fight off a full-body shudder. Devoured. He is about to be devoured. “Isn’t that right, birdie?”
Hawks makes a small, strangled sound at the back of his throat and his hips roll up almost unconsciously. Asset, they used to call him, and never failed to remind him how much money and resources they spent on making him the hero he is today. But they never looked at him like this.
Dabi laughs, head thrown back from the intensity, but the grin he sends Hawks is painfully fond. “Be a sweetheart and grab us some lube, yeah?”
A smaller feather eagerly crosses the room to heed the command, picking up a half-empty bottle from the couch and quickly depositing it into Dabi’s waiting hand. Dabi gives the feather a cheeky caress and it shudders, mirroring its owner, and wraps itself around his scarred wrist with a zealousy of a touch-starved octopus. With a chuckle, Dabi brings it up to his face to plant a kiss on the quivering vane.
“Have I ever told you I found your little flying knives of death insanely hot?” Dabi looks him straight in the eyes as he pops the lube bottle’s cap open. The following sounds of squeezing and squelching send another rush of arousal through Hawks in a pure Pavlovian response. “You could cover me with them from top to bottom and I would thank you for it.”
Oh. The mental image makes Hawks’ head swim. He would feel everything all at once. Every intake of breath, every exhale, every beat of his heart, his warmth, his shape, his anatomy – even the blood pumping under that paper-thin skin. It would be like his body belonged to him, to Hawks, his brain tricked into believing Dabi was a part of him, connected together in the most visceral way possible. And he could go even further, slip his feathers under those shiny staples, slither his way beneath the skin, muscles and sinew, wrap them around the bones and leave them there, stay inside him forever, never be lonely again.
Hawks swallows the saliva that abruptly pooled in his mouth. His hands shake as he reaches out to Dabi’s shifting thighs, the villain already hard at work preparing himself.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Dabi smirks. Hawks only manages a weak nod in reply, out of it, brain cooked with the intoxicating heat of arousal. “Of course you would, you freak. Anything to make me happy, right?”
Anything, Hawks thinks or says or feels, shuddering when something wet and cold touches his now rock-hard cock. His eyes flutter close. For a moment he is blind, senseless, only his feathers telling him that Dabi is moving, shuffling on his knees until he’s directly above Hawks’ hips and—
A tight, wet heat engulfs him. Dabi’s insides are silky, pliant and hot like clay, and he sits on Hawks’ dick with a greedy rush, sinking down until he’s completely sheathed.
It’s fucking divine. Dabi’s full weight on him, ass on his thighs and balls on his belly, hands that come to feel up his clenched abs — his body remembers this and welcomes it back with thirst and hunger. Literally. His throat feels dry and he keeps swallowing, finally blinking away the haze from his sight. When he looks up, there’s an arrogant expression on Dabi’s face, manic heat still colouring his cheeks as wide eyes don’t leave him even for a second.
Hawks’ vision sharpens. His body tenses with restless energy, he’s eager to buck up, to give Dabi what he asked for, to make him drool, fuck that smirk off his face until only a loopy, blissed-out expression remains. He lets out a growl, needy and impatient, to which Dabi only chuckles in reply. His grip on Dabi tightens when the villain starts grinding his hips in little circles, letting out breathy moans as his own cock stands proudly, smearing pre-cum on a scarred stomach.
“Do you see?” Dabi moves one of Hawks’ hands to his belly. Oh. Hawks’ eyes pin. That’s his cock there, making space for itself among Dabi’s guts. “Do you feel it? How well you fit inside me?”
Hawks wants to nod, to say something, anything, but the sight, the feel of Dabi squirming on top of him, makes him too stupid to think.
“You were always meant to be mine.” Dabi grabs Hawks’s chin, jerking his head up. Hot breath hits him like the scorching heat of summer, steam spilling from an open, smiling mouth as Dabi continues to croon with triumph. “The only use your cock has is pleasuring me. You’re my sex toy, my fuck machine, you hear that, Hawks? I own you.”
Fuck. Hawks’ on fire, he’s on fire, he’s so turned on, it honestly feels like he’s going to die if nothing relieves him of the tension building in his groin. “Dabi—”
Dabi lifts himself up and slams his hips down. Hawks’ back arches off the bed. Fuck. He paws at Dabi, ignoring the wild laughter until his talons find purchase on a skinny frame and he can pull himself up, pressing close to the villain. Dabi transfers his arms to hook over Hawks’ shoulders, teeth bared in a smug grin, and embraces him in turn.
"I'm never letting you go.” Dabi entangles his fingers in Hawks’ hair, grabs a fistful and pulls his head back, far enough that his face is the only thing Hawks can look at. He repeats his earlier motion, beginning a steady pace of up and down with Hawks’ hands on his hips. “You're mine.” It’s low, self-satisfied, a purr of a cat who finally caught the red-winged canary. “You belong to me. No one else deserves you. No one else can make you happy, and I will do it so well, I will make you so happy. It's a fucking promise. Hawks. Look at me. Only at me. Don’t you fucking dare look away.”
Dabi’s hole clenches when he drags himself off Hawks’ cock and relaxes when he drops back down, sweet torture repeated over and over and over again. It feels so mind-numbingly good, so electrifying, it’s hard for Hawks to keep his eyes open, hard to keep them from rolling up to the ceiling.
But Dabi asked for his undivided attention and that’s what Hawks will give him.
Dabi grins. As if he read his mind, as if he knew, and really Hawks should start assuming Dabi always knows what’s going on in his head. Then again, maybe it’s not that special of an achievement when he’s been living there rent-free for months.
“You wanna be mine?” An eager nod. “Yeah?” A growl, another nod. Dabi’s pace increases, becoming more and more frantic, wild, reckless. “Make me feel good, pleasure me, give me everything you’ve got and I will be — Ah! — so nice to you, I will set you free, no cage will ever hold you, no chains will ever restrain you, you’ll be so happy with me, Keigo, Keigo, KeigoKeigoKeigo—”
He slips out.
Dabi honest-to-god whines, face scrunching up in a scowl, his lips forming a pout. Childish, petulant, entitled brat. Along with the full-body blush of arousal, disheveled hair and heavy breathing, it’s the most beautiful Hawks has ever seen him.
Before Dabi can reach out to put him in again, Hawks topples him over, hoists his leg over the shoulder, and spares an indulgent look at how red and puffy his hole has become before shoving himself back inside. Dabi gives a choked out scream, spine going taut, eyes widening when Hawks keeps up the pace, entering him with speed and strength that only his quirk allows him. His hands grab at the sheets almost immediately, the muscles in his raised thigh quivering at the stretch, but his mouth stays open, eyelids falling half-open.
Hawks looks at Dabi’s face, slack from pleasure, no thoughts behind foggy blue eyes as his head, his whole frame, jolts against the bed with each of Hawks’ thrusts. He can taste it — the bliss that travels through Dabi. It’s at the back of his throat, every twitch and spasm and moan felt by his feathers melting into pure ambrosia on his tongue.
And gods, Hawks can’t help it. He sends as many secondaries as he can spare right now to press themselves to Dabi — on his pulse points, wrists and ankles, behind his knees and the crook of his elbows, against his chest, just below his pecs, and to his belly, just to hear the rush of his blood, feel the tensing of his stomach as his orgasm builds and builds, muscles clenching, legs straining, toes curling, and it’s so good, so good, to see it, to feel it, inside and out like it’s his own.
Dabi sobs, a mess of blood and drool dripping down his chin, cries growing louder as Hawks changes the angle so his cock grinds directly into his prostate, and it’s not long before Dabi shudders, violently, voice cutting out as milky white cum splatters on his chest and stomach.
Hawks drinks up the sight, his own needs pushed far into the back of his mind. He slows down, times the languid rolls of his hips with the trembles going through Dabi’s body, prolonging his lover’s pleasure. It’s electrifying, feeling him become so completely boneless under him.
“Keep goin’,” Dabi murmurs, words slurred. “Cum inside, ‘kay?”
Ah. Dabi’s really too good to him sometimes. Gently, Hawks lets down Dabi’s leg, the villain’s eyes already flaring open, looking ready to complain, ever impatient, before Hawks slides his hands down his thighs and grips him under the knees. He hoists both of Dabi’s legs around his waist and they squeeze around his sides immediately, muscles still twitching from exertion. It’s a delight to feel the involuntary spasms under his fingertips.
Hawks leans down and trails his talons up Dabi’s body, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His feathers follow in his footsteps, caressing skin both smooth and scarred, eliciting full-body shivers from the oversensitive villain. He finds his hands and intertwines their fingers together, bringing them above Dabi’s head and resting their foreheads together in one smooth motion.
The whimper that leaves Dabi’s mouth when Hawks starts moving again is almost too sweet to have come from a psychopath. But it does. And it will, for as long as it depends on Hawks.
He swallows the sound with pleasure.
What follows is a fever dream, a slow, unhurried slide of sweaty skin on sweaty skin and thick, heady fog clogging up thoughts. Hawks loves this, loves fucking Dabi when he is this pliant and subdued, soft and warm and lightning up like a live-wire at the slightest touch. It’s so easy to read him like this, to give him exactly what he wants, what he needs.
But even Hawks has limits.
He feels his orgasm approaching, tingles spreading from his groin and up his spine, liquid heat pouring down his limbs, blooming in his head. He can’t hold off any longer, not when Dabi takes it so well, tight and hot and noisy. So he hoists him up, spreads his own knees on the bed for a better leverage and slams his hips against Dabi’s ass with a brutal thrust. The answering squeeze around his cock makes him moan, and he doubles over, shoving his face into Dabi’s neck as his pace dissolves into stuttered jabs. He bites into the rough skin there and shamelessly chases his own finish until he’s spilling inside Dabi, filling him with his cum just as the villain requested.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, keep going, keep going, Hawks, fuck, I’m so close, please, it feels so good.”
Chest heaving, black spots dancing before his eyes, Hawks drags himself down, cooing when Dabi whines at the feeling of Hawks’s cock leaving him. He plants open-mouthed kisses on Dabi’ chest and belly, messily licking off the spent from the villain’s first orgasm, salty and bitter and warm like his skin, until his mouth finds the head of Dabi’s dick and he swallows it down to the hilt. He leaves it there, nice and warm in his throat, while pinning Dabi’s twitching hips down with feathers and hooking a thigh over his shoulder.
Dabi complains at the lack of friction with a sobbed out “Hawks!” but is quickly placated when Hawks slides his hand down to play with his sack, massaging his heavy, drawn-up balls. Inside his mouth, Dabi’s dick throbs, veins pulsing under Hawks’ tongue, making Hawks moan. Before he can get too drunk on the feeling, Hawks moves on, grazing Dabi’s smooth taint with his nails, the villain jolting, sharp gasp leaving his lips, turning into a whimper when Hawks reaches his hole. He rubs it, his own cum dripping down his knuckles, and the poor abused thing twitches helplessly under his fingertips.
It still gobbles his fingers like a greedy whore when Hawks shoves them inside, the pounding it just took apparently not enough to satisfy it.
Dabi’s so hot, so wet, so good to me. Hawks is going to be good to him too, he will breathe through his nose, keep his gullet open just for him, and take everything Dabi’s willing to give with a thank you.
Finding Dabi’s prostate is easy with how swollen the gland is and Hawks doesn’t waste time, digs into it right away, kneading the spot mercilessly. He doesn’t stop even when Dabi shouts, squeezing him with trembling thighs, and starts coming down his throat, cum so hot it almost scalds him. Still, Hawks swallows every last drop, fingering Dabi through his orgasm, popping off his cock and retrieving his fingers only when the moans leaving the villain start sounding more pained than pleased.
Panting, Hawks licks his lips, steam leaving his mouth with every breath. Both his belly and his throat feel pleasantly warm, and they will for a few more minutes. Hawks will savour every second. Bracing his arms on the bed, he prepares himself for the arduous task of sitting up when he’s shoved down again, Dabi pushing his head back between his legs.
“Uh-huh… Clean up your mess, birdie.”
A whine escapes him, quickly morphing into a groan when his hair is yanked, and dutifully, Hawks gets down, bowing his head low and pushing Dabi’s legs up for a better access.
It almost feels like a waste, doing this, taking his seed out of his mate, especially when the more bird part of his brain screams at him about breeding and hatchlings but gods, how can he say no to Dabi? When even after already coming twice, he keens at the first touch of Hawks’ tongue at his entrance? Almost giggling as Hawks laps at him with wide, hard strokes, dipping past the rim to tease all the cum out?
And he continues to hum and sigh with contentment, occasionally praising Hawks for being a good birdie, for doing such a good job, and honestly? Hawks drifts away a little bit.
By the time he is done, Dabi sounds half-asleep. And while normally Hawks would let him drift away, he still has some things to say. So with the last of his strength, he crawls up Dabi’s body, radiating gentle heat and sprawled loose-limbed on the bed, and hovers patiently above until the villain acknowledges him.
Dabi blinks his eyes open. With a curling mouth, he cradles Hawks’ face between his palms and pulls him closer to smother him with kisses. Hawks sighs and — allowed now — falls into his arms, small wings fluffing up behind his back.
Dabi oofs at the sudden weight on top of him but chuckles nonetheless, planting another kiss at the top of Hawks’ head, rubbing his damp cheeks with rough knuckles.
“You’re such a cockslut.”
Hawks huffs, not moving a muscle. “And you’re a greedy whore.”
“Good thing there’s finally someone who can satiate me for a bit, hmm?”
It’s a familiar exchange, long turned into a bit of an inside joke, harsh words mollified by fondness. It’s actually one of the reasons why Hawks has grown to love spending time with Dabi. He didn’t have to filter himself in any way and Dabi always gave as good as he got. It felt honest, as absurd as that sounds.
Hawks lifts his head to see Dabi looking at him with hooded eyes and a pleased smile. The face of a man who got everything he wanted. And maybe killed somebody, will all the dried blood around his seams.
“You did good.”
Did he, though?
“And if I didn’t?” Hawks questions even when the words make him preen, feathers tingling with delight. “Would you have killed me at the end?”
“Maybe,” Dabi grins. He sinks a hand into the plumage at Hawks’ back, ruffling through small downy feathers. It feels good. “Maybe I’d just maim you a bit. Never let you forget you could have chosen me instead.”
Hawks snorts, body instinctively relaxing despite the obvious warning. He already made his choice here. For bad or worse. “Classy.”
“You love it.”
And fuck him but he does. Hawks’ chest swells with an indescribable emotion. It threatens to overspill, the corners of his eyes stinging with pressure, and well, crying now when there’s no reason for it would just be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? So he mimics Dabi, taking his face in his hands, leaning closer and pressing their lips together in a fervent collision of affection. Dabi smiles into the kiss, too tired to do anything to reciprocate Hawks’ intensity. But it’s enough. His warmth, and joy, and closeness, the privilege of being allowed to touch him. It’s enough.
“I meant it,” Hawks says, eventually, when they pull apart. “What I said earlier.”
“You said a lot of things, pretty bird.”
“Whatever you are planning, don't leave me behind.” Hawks hardens both his voice and his eyes. He needs to make sure Dabi knows he’s serious here. “If this is a suicide run—”
“Hawks,” Dabi cuts him off. “I told you I’d take good care of you. Trust me, okay?” And to Hawks’ absolute amazement, one of the most dangerous villains Japan has ever seen props his head up to kiss him on the nose.
Fuck. He really, really, really loves him. How is it even possible to feel this much?
“You’re impossible,” Hawks groans, hiding his face in Dabi’s neck. Dabi embraces him properly and pushes them to their sides with a quiet cackle.
Oh, the bastard is enjoying this way too much.
...Good.
Dabi yawns, entwining their legs and pulling Hawks into a honeymoon hug. “Let’s go back to sleep for now. We can talk more in the mornin’.”
“You know, I don’t actually sleep like you do,” Hawks confesses even as he nestles closer.
“Then watch over me while I do,” Dabi replies without missing a beat.
Well, that he can do. For as long as Dabi needs him to.