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Hawks shivers his way through a desperate, ragged moan. His hands and knees shake, under him; his wings are thrown wide to either side, long fallen to the bed in his complete pleasure.
Dabi pulls his cock out to the point where pale replaces scarred skin, about an inch off the base. The texture difference slides around the clenching inner lips of Hawks’ overstimulated cunt, causing the hero to shake his head back and forth on a cry.
“Please, no.” He laughs, voice hoarse from begging in one way or another. “I don’ think I can go again.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Dabi answers, his voice wry and amused, like ‘good thing, too.’ He is not himself unaffected by the visual, or the eleven times Hawks has come gasping on his cock. Sweat licks along his shoulder blades, his own over-worked thighs, but he’ll be damned if he ends on an odd number.
He pulls out further, shuddering at the sensation—though not as hard as Hawks shudders—and admires the sheer wetness of the man. One or two of the orgasms had been violent, literally squirting between them as Hawks jerked and shouted.
Now that Dabi knows he can do this—that they both can—he’s not sure he’ll ever allow Hawks out of bed without finishing at least five or six times. He rubs the slick, aching head of his cock around Hawks’ opening, tracing his labia. He dips it in, pink on wet pink, but not enough to let it pop in past the crown.
He keeps it up, dipping briefly in, just the tip of the tip—he will not snort for that, that’s fucking Natsuo level humor—until Hawks emits the loudest, most strangled sound to date, burying his face in his forearms.
“Get on with it!” He screeches, pussy constantly trying to clench around Dabi’s head, to pull him in, but it’s so shallow a tease that the clench pushes him out instead. Dabi had been appreciating it, the sweet torture against how hard he is—really, he could fuck through a brick wall, at this point, he’s so hard—and, yes, how clearly overwhelmed Hawks is, right now.
He’s dappled in sweat, feathers drenched, hair curling at the nape of his neck.
“I thought you didn’t want me to?” Dabi asks, innocent, because he may not be Natsuo, but he’s never claimed not to be a little shit, himself. He slides his cock around, along Hawks' slit, until the head bumps against his clit.
He can feel Hawks tense like a live wire, just—all over, every muscle tightening. He lets out a shaky sigh of his own, watching it. His cock wants to be buried back in that sweet heat so badly he could cry, and it wants to fucking come this time.
Dabi presses forward until his thighs brush up against Hawks’ sensitive ones, until the base of his cock is right up against Hawks’ opening, but the shaft of it presses up over the whole of his pussy. He’s leaking so much that it paints the slit on the way, dragging hard and hot pressure all the way along the sensitive lips and clit.
He leans his flushed, sweaty chest to Hawks’ back, nipples just barely brushing ribs, and mouths hotly at Hawks’ ear.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Hawks snarls at him, voice shaky, and Dabi can only chuckle as he pulls back—literally as slow as he’s able, dragging the full length from clit to slit to perineum, until his head is sitting pretty right against Hawks’ soaked, warm entrance.
Every muscle is screaming for him to push in, to spear past the fluttering opening and thrust deep and hard. He doesn’t.
He waits right where he is.
He can’t stop looking. His thighs twitch and his breathing is ragged and it’s so fucking sexy; Dabi isn’t even fucking him. Not right now, at least.
Hawks is so sensitive it must hurt. The kind of pleasure you can’t help but cry as you chase, the kind that stings and aches, but you can’t let yourself stop because the only thing that hurts more is not having it.
Dabi shivers a little. The head of his cock barely dips in, enough to wet the slit.
He waits until Hawks opens his mouth, probably to curse him out, and snaps his hips forward all at once, sheathing himself roughly. Hawks screams.
His mouth falls open on a wordless sound, the loudest yet. His eyes are screwed tight, hands fisted in the sheets, and he feels so tight around Dabi he knows some of it must be swelling, his vagina puffy with use and so goddamn sensitive.
Dabi stays there, too, so overwhelmed with pleasure that he barely wants to move, but mostly, mostly—
“Hnn, hnn, fuck, fuck, fuck—” He waits until Hawks starts talking again, so that when he mournfully removes his cock—and oh, he was right, he’s been right, but the way the tight passage almost closes around him, too swollen to let him fucking escape, makes Dabi want to never fucking leave.
Hawks’ wrecked voice cuts off into a static crescendo of ‘Aghh’s, one falling right after another like raindrops in a hurricane, and Dabi enjoys every inch of the reluctant slide.
“Okay,” Hawks says breathlessly, when Dabi is once more almost-out of him, only the head still in. “Okay, fuck, one more time.”
“Thought so.” Dabi smirks, pleased. He pops the head of his dick out and shifts his hands, ignoring Hawks’ immediate protest.
Hawks is so unbelievably gorgeous, red and literally shaking on his hands and knees, overstimulated beyond pain or pleasure—but Dabi means to finish this, this round.
He flips over an unresisting bird, wings down—he doesn’t think Hawks could resist, at this point, muscles exhausted beyond measure—and settles in the perfect vee of his thighs, dropping his cock right on top of his boyfriends’ mons.
The shaft sits snug against his clit.
“You sure you want to go again, baby?” He asks, devious now. He wouldn’t have allowed the choice before, but it’s a different game entirely once Hawks has already agreed. Now it’s just torture. For both of them, actually; his cock sits purple with need against soaked blonde curls.
Hawks shifts impatiently against him, damp and perfect, and goes briefly cross-eyed when the firm heft of it brushes his clitoral hood.
“Dabs.” Hawks’ voice is so rough, abused. It makes him want to slide his cock in and fuck his throat up, further; it makes him want to fix the hero hot tea and kiss him softly.
“I got you.” He promises, his own voice unexpectedly hoarse. He presses them together, chest to chest, and hooks his arms under Hawks’ shoulders, burying his head in the curve of his neck. Hawks brings one limp hand up to stroke his hair.
He slides the other between them, lining Dabi up; Dabi lifts his hips a bit to help. Then just like that he’s sliding in, slow and perfect and easy, and Hawks grunts right beneath him.
Their hips meet, Dabi’s thighs flush with Hawks’. He grinds just so until his pubic bone rubs a little at Hawks’ clit, more pressure than focused attention, a little party trick he picked up so long ago it might have actually been in high school, at a party.
He’s not really too sure what happens after that. He looses himself in the overwhelmingly tight clutch of Hawks’ body, in the smell of sweat at the neck under his face, at the perfect slide of their bodies together as he fucked in and out.
When he came, he came fast and sudden; his hips jerked, violent, and his vision went entirely fucking black. He moaned, low and loud into Hawks’ skin, and felt the lingering thrusts as Hawks humped up against him, riding out his own final orgasm on Dabi’s throbbing cock.
Dabi leans his forehead against Hawks’ collar bone, untangles one arm, and reaches between them to thumb his clit just so. He catches his boyfriend on the last waves of orgasm and sends him directly into another, the hero weakly cursing his name.
“Bakers dozen.” He announces smugly, as though he’s not panting and exhausted himself.
“I hate you.” Hawks says when he can breathe again, lungs heaving under Dabi. His nipples rub against Hawks’ firm chest, a little frisson of electricity. His cock gives one last heroic spurt into the most welcoming home its ever known.
Hawks winces at him.
“You’re cleaning that up.” He informs Dabi, who shrugs easily.
“Fine by me.” He rights himself, pressing a parting kiss to Hawks’ throat, and eases back carefully. Hawks hisses the entire way.
“Shh, baby, I know.” He placates under his breath, a litany of nonsense, and eventually he does get his cock free of that vice.
Soon thereafter, his come leaks out, too, and that’s just fucking unfair to look at.
“Ha.” Hawks breathes, letting his thighs splay wide once he catches the look on Dabi’s face. His lips part a little and the trickle becomes a drizzle. A low moan slips free from Dabi’s throat, entirely without his permission. Hawks laughs at him.
“Maybe next time you come twelve times—”
“Thirteen,” He corrects absently, raising a hand to trace where the white spills from ravaged pink, until Hawks kicks him.
“I’ll keep a look out for some kind of thing to make it happen.” Hawks threatens, and Dabi laughs under his breath.
“Maybe I should lick this out of you.” Dabi volunteers, instead, and Hawks looks like he’s considering it for a conflicted moment.
“No, fuck you, I’m spent.” He decides, but that split second was enough.
“Allow me to convince you otherwise.” He grins, like a jackass, and slides both arms under Hawks’ thighs, pulling him close.
“Fuck you, no.” Hawks throws an arm over his face, laughing and red, wings limp on the bed.
But thirteen isn’t an even number, so Dabi fucks his tongue into him anyway.