Chapter Text
“Well, Fumikage, I gotta disagree with you. I think you were a natural, actually. I chose wisely. You trust my judgement, right?”
Keigo playfully nudges his former intern while he unlocks the door to his office. The new nameplate shines gold, dead center at eye-level: “CEO & Pro Hero: Tsukuyomi.”
“I suppose so.”
“You suppose you trust my judgement?” Keigo chuckles.
Fumikage sighs and shakes his head, stepping into the room. He shrugs out of his coat and folds it onto an upholstered armchair. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in yellowish afternoon light. Everything in here is still so fresh. Eons better than the former building.
“You know that’s not what I meant. I suppose I ‘was a natural.’ Are press conferences always so…” His brow wrinkles while he searches for the right word.
“Vicious?” Keigo offers, sauntering to the fridge with a smirk. He pops open a coffee and tosses one to Fumikage.
“Yeah.” Fumikage sits down gingerly in his high-backed rolling chair, like he’s still afraid he’ll break it. He’s been so hesitant and careful with all the new stuff, but Keigo enjoys surprising him with top-of-the-line gear. He sets his coffee can on one of the Hawks branded coasters. The place is overflowing with old merch, tons dug up from storage during the move.
Keigo paces for a minute, exhausted by the day’s events, too, and then flops into the beanbag he couldn’t bear to part with.
(“You’re gonna want it on late nights, believe me.”)
“Yes and no.” Keigo answers, loosening his tie with one hand. He kicks off his dressy loafers and lets his wings do a nice, big stretch. He glances outside, then back to Fumikage.
“I’m sorry that your first few weeks as CEO have been so chaotic, Fumikage. Me and Touya’s relationship, and the shitstorm with Endeavor—the press is too focused on all of that. I wish they’d just let it go and celebrate you, instead. I mean, I got more questions than you did today. I tried to field things to you as best I could, I hope you know that. I don’t want the spotlight, anymore. You really did do a great job.”
Fumikage slowly rotates his chair to face Keigo and tilts his head in a way that’s so familiar. His thinking face. He taps his foot on the plush rug.
“The public is, of course…inflamed about your early retirement and the other news. While it has been an adjustment, it not anything you need to apologize for. It will all settle down eventually.” Fumikage nods sagely. “In the meantime, I am figuring out how to handle these high-stress PR situations just by seeing you in them. You really are good at this, Hawks. I’ve…always known that, but it’s even more noticeable from where I am now…I still have so much to learn and...”
He trails off and takes a deep breath. Fumikage visibly sits up straighter, shoulders wide with dignity. It strikes Keigo then that he’s not a kid anymore.
Like, obviously. He’s in his twenties. But sitting here in front of him, it’s so apparent—that’s Fumikage’s desk. It’s not Hawks’. This office, this building, they’re places where Fumikage will steer the ship. Hawks is still the namesake of the agency, and he’ll still sign the dotted lines, give his input on the board, or guide his intern when he needs it, but, Fumikage rules the roost now.
Ha. Bird pun.
“I hope,” Fumikage dips his chin in a bow, “that once the training wheels are off, so to speak, I will represent you well, Hawks.”
Affection flutters in his chest. Keigo always wished he had a little brother. With Fumikage and Shoto, he apparently gained two. His pride bursts, warm and fuzzy.
“Gonna get me choked up.” Keigo rakes a hand through his hair to try not to. “You already do, Fumikage, duh. It’s why I picked you. I meant it when I said nobody else could carry on my legacy.”
The other hero opens his mouth to potentially protest, surely to say he’s not there yet, so Keigo holds up a hand. “Nuh uh. Take the compliment or I’m pouring my coffee on your new carpet. Don’t test me.”
He tips the can precariously as a threat.
“Fine, fine. Thank you.” Fumikage relents and crosses his arms. He leans back in the fancy chair and Dark Shadow finally emerges, floating in a circle around it. He relaxes over Fumikage’s shoulders.
They settle into quiet, unwinding from the draining day. Another conference is scheduled for tomorrow, and three more meetings, and then one more week of hectic transition before Keigo is officially “off the clock.”
He shoots Touya and Shoto a text that he’ll be home in a few hours and then pockets his phone.
“Hey,” he says to Fumikage, who’s dozing, “can I ask you to do something for me, by the way?”
Fumikage stirs, rubbing the few winks of sleep from his eyes. He quickly blinks to full attention.
“Of course, Hawks. What is it?”
It…feels scary. So much so that Keigo can’t even look at him when he asks. He finds himself staring out the window, at a flock of gulls skating across the sky. He’s already taken the difficult steps, this should be a piece of cake. His heart picks up speed, and he presses past it, to freedom.
“Can you call me ‘Keigo’?”
After a beat of silence Fumikage says, “What?”
Keigo sets down the coffee next to the bean bag and wrings his hands together. Feeling sheepish, he finally manages to look over. Keigo tries to squash down his embarrassment with half a smirk.
“It’s my name. Takami Keigo.” He explains, shrugging. “What, you thought my birth name was Hawks?”
Fumikage splutters, holding up his hands.
“W-well, no, of course not. At least, I don’t think so?”
“You don’t think so?” Keigo teases, grinning. “My parents were shitty, but they didn’t name their bird baby Hawks.”
Fumikage’s shoulders drop in defeat. Keigo always knows how to push his buttons, like any big brother would.
“I just am surprised, that’s all.” He taps his fingers on the desk. “You’ve never…shared that with me. What else was I supposed to assume? We’ve worked together a long time and it’s the only name I’ve known you as.”
“Hm.” Hawks cocks his head. “I guess that’s true.”
He pushes to stand and pads across the rug in socks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Fierce Wings fluff and then straighten back down at his shoulder blades.
“Yeah, I dunno. It’s…My name’s not for everybody yet. Up until Touya, no one knew it but the Commission. And my mom, wherever the hell she is.”
A bit vulnerable there, but, Fumikage’s gaze is soft. He’s not judging him, he never has. Even when Keigo was burnt up in the hospital all those years ago, crying about the villain he’d fallen for.
“But, you and Rumi are my family, too. You should know it.” He affirms. “I plan to tell her next time I see her.”
Keigo looks to the sky again. It melts into the first pretty shades of orange. Apprehension still gnaws at him, over all the future unknowns, but he’s also the lightest he’s felt in years.
Maybe ever?
“Turning over a new leaf and all that.—Besides, you’ll probably see it on all kinds of paperwork now, anyway. Might as well pull the trigger early, boss.”
Fumikage’s eyes pop open.
“‘Boss’?” He parrots. “Don’t—”
“Yeah, you’re the boss now.” Keigo shakes his head dramatically. He stalks over to sit on top of the table, wings spread wide. “I forfeit all responsibility to you, the new head honcho. I’m simply the guy behind the curtain. I am no longer important. Please don’t ask me a single question or give me a single task.”
“Hawks—”
“Who?” He smiles wryly, raising an eyebrow.
Fumikage plops his face into his hands. He sighs heavily, and it only makes Keigo laugh.
“That’s too weird. I don’t want to be your boss…Keigo.” Fumikage says into his palms. And it’s muffled, but, the sentence feels like a hug. His name, given to somebody else he loves, to hold onto, to care for.
For the person he really is.
Keigo can’t help it, he pets over the top of Fumikage’s head, smoothing down his dark feathers.
And, all right, so, he was wrong, earlier. Fumikage still looks like a kid to him, sometimes. Right now especially.
Keigo gently noogies him. “Why’s it weird?”
Fumikage doesn’t move for a minute, but eventually he raises up onto his elbows. Dark Shadow peeks around from his neck. Now it seems like it’s his turn to be embarrassed and shy.
“…Because I will always look up to you.”
Oh.
Firing close-range at the fucking heart, that takes him out. Keigo holds back a emotional, pathetic noise and sweeps off the desk. He clears his throat and walks back to retrieve his coffee.
“Well,” He says, scooping it from the ground. Keigo takes a swig to avoid breaking down into touched tears.
“Then I’ll keep trying to make you proud.” He vows. “…Though I still accept zero responsibilities after next week, don’t ask, seriously.”
Dark Shadow’s buzzing laughter warms the room, paired with Fumikage’s half-hearted exasperation.
“No, no, of course not. That’s what my new hero partner will be for, won’t it? And all my own interns?”
A change of subject thankfully shakes Keigo from his deeply moved stupor. Crying into the new carpet would probably stain it as badly as the coffee would with how he’s feeling.
“Yeah!” He snaps his fingers. “Have you talked with anyone about partnering up yet? Or reviewed any intern applications?”
Fumikage shakes his head. He clunks open the filing cabinet to his right, gesturing to an absolutely gigantic file folder stuffed with forms. A stretched-thin rubber band barely holds it together.
“No. But we already have…so many.”
When he lifts the heavy folder onto the desk, it sounds like a brick.
Keigo smiles. He remembers paperwork like that, days like this, pouring over documents until the wee hours of the morning. Biting his nails off, tearing his hair out, trying to be perfect for the Commission, for the public, for his fans. Every decision was paramount. Every detail was scrutinized. Every action—professional or personal—was measured. Every staple had to be exact, every T crossed, I dotted. Every email perfectly composed, every report combed-over until his eyes bled.
And for a very long time, he did it all alone.
Keigo holds out his hand, makes a grabbing motion.
“Splitsies. Give me half.” He insists.
“What happened to ‘zero responsibilities’?” Fumikage challenges playfully, but he divides the stack anyway.
“Hmmmm, I said ‘after next week,’ so you’ve got seven days. Use them wisely.”
Keigo collects his ream of paper and a pen and folds back into the beanbag with it. Ninety-five percent of their employees migrated over to the new building, but if he can help set up Fumikage with even more core support, he’ll be climbing higher up the ranks in no time.
Keigo uncaps his pen and begins making notes. There’s a lot of talent here. It’s going to be a lot to manage, but if anyone can do it, Fumikage can.
And Keigo knows that, even in retirement, he’ll end up here plenty.
Not as the head of the agency, not as the CEO.
But as a friend.
*************
Touya assumes that when Shoto briefly treks downstairs, it’s to meet a DoorDasher. What he does not anticipate is Shoto returning with their food and also Bakugou fucking Katsuki in tow. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight or whatever the hell his obscene hero name is.
The guy Touya kidnapped as a child is in his condo, in streetwear, toeing out of his shoes like he’s going to stay a while. Touya’s brain struggles to keep up. He can only blink.
“What’s up, fucker?” Bakugou greets casually, seemingly unaware of how Touya’s lagging.
He carries a second bag of food and sets it on the counter while eyeballing the height of the ceiling. Bakugou scans over the elegant kitchen and then the living room.
“Nice digs. I’ve never been to Bird Brain’s place.”
“‘Bird Brain’ and Touya’s place.” Shoto corrects flatly, digging into the first bag.
“Tch. Obviously. You know what I meant.”
Bakugou quickly makes himself at home, sorting through the drawers to find chopsticks. Touya watches in silence for probably far too long.
“What are…what are you doing here?” He asks eventually, eyebrow quirked.
Shoto already chews on something fried. Smells like takoyaki.
“Bakugou picked up lunch for us.” He explains, as though that answers the fucking question.
“…Okay?”
Bakugou turns to root through their refrigerator, also not answering the fucking question.
“I told your dumbass boyfriend to stop drinking these forever ago. Surprised he’s still alive.” He gripes, fishing out one of Keigo’s canned coffee’s. Bakugou checks the nutrition label, and then chucks it to the back of the fridge. He selects another beverage of Keigo’s for himself, something orange and full of electrolytes.
“Izuku would have come, too, but he’s doing a presentation at U.A. today.” Shoto dumps a bunch of food from the to-go container onto a plate and offers it to Touya. He takes it robotically, still confused as hell.
“Come for what? I don’t understand what—”
“Godddd, you’re so impatient. I thought Shoto said you, like, chilled out?” Bakugou sets down his drink after a few swigs and then lifts open the right side of his jacket. He sorts through the pockets for a minute and then pulls out a white envelope.
“Here. Jesus. Assumed we were gonna eat first, but no.”
Touya stares. It’s small, square, the names neatly handwritten in ink.
Addressed to both of them: Hawks and Touya.
“You just gonna fucking stare at it or what?” Bakugou barks. “I came all this way, don’t be rude.”
Touya immediately knows what this is. He backpedals.
“Hawks isn’t even here right now. I don’t think I should—”
Shoto pops up beside him, leaning his chin onto Touya’s shoulder to get a better look.
“It’s for both of you. I think Hawks would be fine with you opening it.” He takes the plate back from Touya and sets it on the counter, freeing up his hands.
God, fuck both of them. His annoying little brother and his annoying little brother’s stupid friend.
Touya grabs the envelope with a grumble.
“Fine.”
Yeah, it’s a wedding invitation, all right. Beautifully made, actually, on glossy, thick paper, embossed with vines. Sage green, gold foil, the works.
Anxiety crawls out of the cardstock, too.
“Congratulations.” Touya says, because he should. And he…he does mean it, he’s just more freaking out about the prospect of going to this wedding than celebrating it.
“Thanks.” Bakugou grunts in return. He shrugs. “Izuku wanted to invite everyone in person instead of by mail, which is stupid to me, but—”
“But you’re whipped?” Shoto says, totally deadpan, and it yanks a startled laugh from Touya.
Bakugou pops his younger brother on the bicep. “Shut the hell up. Can we eat now, or what?”
Shoto cocks his head to one side. “Where’s my invitation? I thought you would bring it as well.”
Bakugou sighs heavily and assembles his own plate. He shovels a generous portion of rice out of one of the containers.
“I don’t think the people in the wedding need a fucking invitation. No shit you’re invited.”
“Hm.” Shoto muses. “Cold.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “I dunno, man, relax. You’ll fucking get one. ‘Zuku probably wants to give it to you himself.”
Touya sets the card on the countertop, not very hungry anymore. He elects for a cup of tea instead.
“Wait, Sho.” He prompts, realizing the implication a second late. “You’re in your ex-boyfriend’s wedding party? Isn’t that…weird? Like…what does Shinsou think about that?”
Shoto is unfazed as usual. He slides into one of the barstools and continues eating.
“Hitoshi is well aware that I love him and that my feelings for Izuku are purely platonic now.”
Touya shuts his eyes and shakes himself, pulling out the teacups. “Okay, ew, I don’t like the emphasis you put on ‘well aware.’ Forget I asked.”
“‘Ew’ is right.” Bakugou sits on the barstool beside him, leaving Touya to stand at the stove. “I don’t wanna hear shit about you and Izuku or you and Eyebags.”
“Don’t ask then.” Shoto shrugs.
Weird fucking friendship these two have got, but Touya isn’t really one to judge. He goes through the motions of making a drink while they bicker. Actually, it’s not really bickering. Bakugou complains and Shoto just kind of responds simply here and there. It…almost feels like Touya and Shoto? The way their conversations tend to go?
Even weirder.
Touya’s inspecting the food to look busy when Shoto’s phone rings. He wiggles it from his pocket and checks the screen.
“Speaking of Hitoshi. Hang on a second. Hello?”
Shoto picks up the call and then steps out to the balcony, pulling the door shut behind him.
And he and Bakugou are very suddenly alone.
That’s…great. So great. Touya and the guy he kidnapped. Touya and the guy he…hasn’t spoken a word to since then, until today? Sooo great.
Touya rummages deeper into the takeout bag, but there’s literally nothing else to examine, so he goes back to his tea. When he peeks at Bakugou over the rim of his cup, he’s not even looking at him. The hero’s scrolling on his own phone, tapping out a text or an email.
At least he’s not trying to blow Touya up with his eyes. Which could be entirely fucking possible these days. He’s tied for number two for a reason, who knows what kind of weird crap he’s capable of? U.A. gives their kids steroids, or whatever.
Touya sucks his teeth and taps his fingertips on the counter. The left hand, because it’s quieter.
Several long weeks ago, from a hospital bed, Bakugou had apparently forgiven him. But does Touya even deserve that?
How can someone be forgiven when they haven’t even apologized?
Touya has a lot to apologize for, too, holy shit. He’s been…trying. A little at a time, over days, over weeks, over years. It’s—fuck—it’s shit. It feels like hell. Changing, and healing, and trying. Some days, all that emotional garbage is harder to manage than a fourth-degree burn.
He puffs out a breath and it draws Bakugou’s attention. Startling red eyes snap up to his.
“What?” He barks. “Shoto invited me over, for the record. I didn’t just show up here.”
“No,” Touya shakes his head quickly, “it’s, uh, not that. I…thanks for the invitation. It’s a…nice gesture.”
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow. He rests his chopsticks on the edge of his plate and stares, like Touya just grew a second head.
Touya decides to power through. Better late than never? Even, like, eight-to-nine-ish years late?
“I was just gonna say…fuck.” Touya rubs the back of his head.
“‘Fuck’?” Bakugou pulls a face. “Yeah, okay, fuck—”
“No,” Touya cuts him off, “Jesus Christ, God, this is so awkward.”
He crosses his arms, closes himself off, protects himself, and then glares at the ceiling. Doing this crap is even scarier without Keigo standing beside him.
The words come out in a rush and Touya has to fight the literal heat of embarrassment that flushes over his entire body.
“Sorry for kidnapping you when you were a teenager, I know it was really goddamn weird and awful. I was going through some shit clearly and I’m still working on it. I know you already told Hawks it was fine, but, I’m sorry anyway.”
Silence builds in the space after he speaks. Heavy, aching silence that presses in on Touya from all sides. He glowers at the chandelier so long that he’s surprised Bakugou doesn’t just get up and leave.
But then the brat laughs.
Touya blinks in shock, finally able to look him in the eye. Except, he can’t really, because Bakugou’s doubled over in hysterics.
“…What the fuck?” Touya asks, unsure if he really even wants to know the answer.
Bakugou wipes his face, like, there are actual tears streaming down his cheeks. He just keeps laughing? Is Touya on TV? What’s happening?
“Holy fuck, that was rich.” Bakugou eventually says, voice light. “You think I'm still hung up on that? Of all the shit that happened in first and second year, you wanna apologize for that time you made me attend the world's shittiest slumber party?”
Oh.
Touya…doesn’t know how to respond to that. So maybe he didn’t catastrophically ruin his life that time? One less person than he thought, what a plus.
Bakugou runs a hand through his spiky hair, smirking. “You know I fuckin' died once right? That little stunt you pulled was…nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
Touya doesn’t know how to respond to that, either. He swallows.
He died once too, he wants to say. Twice, actually. Almost died a lot of times.
Maybe he and Bakugou are…way more alike than he thinks.
“We don't have to be...chummy or whatever the hell, but I don't hate you.” Bakugou tells him matter-of-factly. It comes as a surprise, even though Touya maybe knew that?
“I just hand-delivered you an invitation to my goddamn wedding. If me or Deku didn't want you there, you wouldn’t be invited.”
Cool, Touya is still in the paralyzed and unsure what to say boat. He lets Bakugou continue.
“Anyway, it’s whatever.” The hero shrugs. “And your stupid bird boyfriend's not an absolute shit judge of character. I’ve known Hawks forever and I trust him well enough.—Shoto too, no duh. Shoto’s…don’t fucking tell him I said this, but he’s one of my best friends. If those two are telling me you’ve changed, then you've changed.”
They lock eyes, blue crashes into red. Bakugou’s gaze is definitive and earnest, and Touya feels it down to his core. Someone normally so rough around the edges looks uncharacteristically soft with his next words.
“I'd be... pretty fucking hypocritical if I didn't think people could change, all right?” Bakugou makes a flippant hand gesture, like he’s trying to brush off the sincerity. Like it’s too much.
And that, Touya understands to a T.
Hm.
“All right,” Touya nods. His mouth feels like cotton, but look at that, he survives another reconciliation. Keigo (and his stupid therapist) will be so proud.
“Thanks, then.”
“Yeah, yeah, let it go.” Bakugou insists, scooping into his food again. “It’ll be fucking annoying if you keep bringing up this old crap.”
Touya takes a deep breath. He feels a bit less strained now, sips his tea to try and completely relax.
“Okay, I—”
Shoto pushes back into the apartment then and shuts the door behind him, cutting Touya off. Was that little asshole waiting for an opportune moment to come back inside? How long was his phone call, even? Had he been listening to their conversation?
His brother nonchalantly slips back onto the barstool and picks up his utensils.
“Bakugou,” He points at him with his chopsticks. “Hitoshi said if you want proof that I'm committed to him, he can ‘absolutely provide it.’ He said to emphasize those words heavily and also, yes, he definitely means it ‘like that.’”
Oh, Touya gags.
“No, no, no, no, not in my fucking house, I don’t wanna hear—”
“Fucking gross, no, offer declined. Gonna yarf into my rice, asshole.” Bakugou yells in time with him.
And Shoto, the prick, only smiles.
Shared trauma really strengthens bonds, so Touya’s heard. Guess he and Bakugou will get along just fine.
——
Keigo gets home well after midnight. He tries to sneak in, but Touya’s still in the living room watching a campy horror movie in the dark. Shoto snoozes against his shoulder, cooking like a space heater. He apparently runs hot when he sleeps. Touya thinks it’s cozy; his own Quirk does the same. They respond to each other in a pod of warmth.
“‘Be home in a few hours,’ huh?” Touya whispers, not wanting to rouse his brother. All that fucker does is work, he deserves the rest.
Keigo toes out of his loafers and pulls off his coat. He pads over and hangs it on the back of the couch.
“Holy hell, you guys are baking in here.” Keigo whispers back with a soft laugh. “Doesn’t even feel like I took my jacket off.”
He gently presses a kiss to the crown of Touya’s hair. Cold lips thaw immediately thanks to his Quirk.
“But I know, I’m sorry I’m so late,” Keigo continues with a sigh. “We had a rough press conference. I wanted to hang around and help Tokoyami out with some other stuff. Just wanna set him up for success as best I can.”
“Before the baby bird jumps from the nest to fly.” Touya teases. He lowers the volume on the TV and shifts to get a better look at his partner. “You already have set him up for success, Kei.”
He looks good, cheeks pink from the chill, even in the dim, blueish light of the television screen. His tie’s askew and the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone. Touya hums appreciatively.
Shoto stirs at the commotion and lifts his head.
“Hawks back?” He mumbles, barely coherent.
Touya presses a palm to his brother’s forehead, effectively shutting his eyes for him. He untangles from Shoto’s body and maneuvers him onto a pillow, flat against the cushions.
“Go back to sleep, Sho. Just crash here tonight, it’s late.”
Touya wriggles off the couch and tosses a throw over him, then pets over his two-toned hair.
Shoto knocks out again immediately with zero protest; he knows he’s safe here. And Shinsou knows where he is, anyway.
Keigo smiles at the interaction, then crosses the condo to their bedroom. He looks wobbly and tired, massaging a crick in his neck as he goes. Touya clicks off the television and follows, softly shutting the door behind him.
Once they’re through the threshold, Keigo makes a beeline for the bathroom to presumably shower.
“How was your day?” He asks with genuine interest, even though Touya can tell from the slope of his wings that he’s exhausted. Bright red primaries skim the floor.
“I was studying and taking a practice exam most of the day.” Touya answers, following him into the bathroom without shame. He leans on the counter and watches while Keigo orders his feathers into a neat pile.
“Then we had a fun surprise visitor.”
Keigo freezes, concern clear on his face, before Touya shakes his head. He reaches out with both hands and starts to unbutton the rest of Keigo’s top for him.
“Relax, it was Bakugou.”
Keigo quirks an eyebrow, lets Touya undress him because protesting is futile.
“Bakugou? What? Why?”
Touya takes a deep breath. He loosens Keigo’s tie even further, then chucks it to the floor.
“Well. We’re invited to their fucking wedding.”
Keigo has the audacity to look excited, that bastard. His golden eyes go wide and twinkly. Detached feathers dance in the corner.
“No way! Ha! We obviously have to go.”
Touya slides Keigo’s shirt off his shoulders. Starchy fabric gives way to corded muscle, still toned even with how he’s eased off of patrolling. (It’s probably a lot of fucking work to carry around those wings, Keigo’s gonna be ripped for life.) Touya rucks up his wifebeater, untucking it.
“Maybe.”
“Ooooh,” Keigo grins, letting Touya peel his tank off. He shakes his torso and arms after like he’s all ruffled.
“That’s not a ‘no.’” Keigo notes stupidly.
Touya rolls his eyes. “It’ll be a ‘no’ if you act obnoxious about it.”
“When am I ever obnoxious?” Keigo asks with a stupid, charming wink.
Even as wiped as he is, Keigo accepts a kiss. And a cute coo rings from his chest when Touya’s hands whisk downward. When they wind up on his belt buckle, Keigo’s lower stomach jumps. It’s hot as shit, so Touya pursues, even when his partner takes a step back with a chuckle.
“Hey, we can’t. Shoto’s here.” Keigo protests lightly, playfully batting Touya’s hands away. He ends up squished into the wall while Touya attempts to unbutton his pants.
“Okay? Be fucking quiet then, Birdie. He’s two rooms away.” Touya shoots back. Fucking duh.
“Touyyaaa,” Keigo whines, a little giggly. He shimmies against the tile and wraps both hands over Touya’s wrists.
“You know I struggle with being quiet.” He mutters, like that’s an excuse.
Touya heats up his left arm in a faux-threat. Keigo’s grip tightens, and tiny pinprick claws touch his skin, shink over the metal of his right forearm.
“Hey,” Keigo laughs again, “quit it. I’m serious.”
“Yeah, you’re so serious, that’s why you’re getting hard right now.” Touya quips. He presses his hips closer, flattening Keigo to the wall. He knows how to push his buttons, it’s so easy.
He kisses Keigo again, lets him have this illusion of control with the imaginary ‘cuffs’ on his wrists. Keigo squeezes tighter, but their bodies mold closer. Lips slant, stubble scrapes. He tastes like a carbonated energy drink.
“Changing your mind?” Touya teases, stepping with one leg between the planes of his thighs. Rigid muscles lock him into place and Keigo tugs Touya impossibly closer.
“I think,” Keigo whispers, licking over his bottom lip, lapping against his cheek, “I actually have a solution.”
Visions of Keigo, bound and gagged, sparkle through the forefront of Touya’s mind. He smirks into his mouth, messily bumping their noses together. His own arousal stirs.
“Sure fucking hope we have the same idea.” Touya grins.
Keigo lets his head thump into the wall, chest already heaving. When they lock eyes he looks animal, wild, disheveled and…dangerous?
Hm. That’s…
“What?” Touya asks, hair raising on the back of his neck. His stomach swoops and the heat in his arms unexpectedly floods his entire body.
Keigo’s fingers twitch. His own smile stretches wide, displaying shiny canine teeth.
Oh.
Something is…
Keigo leans in, so their lips are a breath apart again. Touya’s heart suddenly pounds because Keigo feels…different.
“I always have so much trouble keeping quiet, huh, Hot Stuff?”
His breath is so warm, it throws Touya for a loop. He’s the one with the fire Quirk, so how the fuck does Keigo feel about a thousand degrees?
He blinks at him, taken aback by the sharp beauty of his features. Taken aback that Keigo looks…like a predator that caught his prey.
“But you sure don’t, do you?”
Oh, fuck. Shit.
Touya’s the prey, isn’t he?
He gasps when feathers flit over his body, curling over his limbs and waist. Before Touya can register what’s going on, he’s spun around and—bent over the bathroom counter.
He inhales in surprise, brain in overdrive. Goosebumps race across his entire body and his heart threatens to crack through his ribcage.
Keigo crowds behind him, fingers toying with the waistband of Touya’s sweats. His talons are sharp, making Touya’s spine prickle. The room merry-go-rounds.
But it’s not…it’s not bad.
Feathers slip over his arms, behind his ears, along his Adam’s apple, around his ankles. Touya catches sight of his reflection—confused and—fucking horny. Behind him, tawny eyes glint in the mirror.
Keigo kisses his shoulder, runs his hands up and down his sides instead of stuffing them into Touya’s pants right away.
“Is this okay?” Keigo whispers, sneaking sincerity into—into whatever the hell this is.
Because it’s not like Touya’s never been on the receiving end. He’d hooked up with plenty of random people before Keigo, and he’s been with Keigo so long now that it’s happened here and there, it just—it’s not frequent at all. And it’s never been so—charged.
“Because if it’s not that’s fine,” Keigo says hurriedly. “I just…”
He begins sucking Touya’s neck, right at the pulse point. Teeth graze there tenderly. Touya swallows.
“Ever since…”
He can’t seem to finish his sentence, too preoccupied on coloring Touya with a hickey. Talons poke into his shirt, threatening to make little holes. Touya fucking—his body flares with heat and Keigo sighs unevenly, into his jaw.
Touya knows. He doesn’t have to say it. Ever since Keigo held him down, it’s been…on their minds.
In other words, Keigo wants to treat Touya the way Touya treats him.
In other words, Keigo wants to wreck him.
Touya doesn’t quite understand the whole “mate” thing, even after this long. Some days Keigo rolls over in submission and begs to be bred until he can’t see straight, but other days, more recently, he seems to want to…take what belongs to him.
Make his claim.
The hickey bruises quick and dark, and Keigo starts on a second one.
Touya exhales, unsteady as fuck. He can feel the line of Keigo’s entire body, the weight of his cock, the shallow rush of his breath.
“Wasn’t even gonna ask tonight, but, since you’re so in the mood anyway,” Keigo mumbles, sounding hypnotized. “If you want to.”
Touya feels drunk, suddenly. Drunk on the intoxicating idea of…letting go. He answers before he can think about it too much.
“Annoying that you’re gonna make me be quiet while you fuck me into oblivion. Not very fair.”
He feels Keigo’s smile more than he sees it and almost yelps when those threatening fingers nip into his obliques.
“Shit,” he hisses, “and you know you can’t finger me with fucking knives for nails, get ahold of yourself, Birdie.”
Does that sound snappy enough? Touya can still run the show from here, can’t he?
Keigo trills and yanks his pants down.
Can’t he?
And then Keigo fully disappears, gone in a flash, fastest man alive, because he drops to his knees and starts eating Touya out like it’s his life’s only purpose.
“Ah!”
Touya immediately clamps his jaw shut, knowing that since he talked such a big game, he’ll get a ton of shit if he’s too vocal. He crams his fist against his mouth and plonks his forehead into the marble.
Keigo loves oral, he’s always loved oral. He has an oral fixation. Giving, receiving, it’s like a fucking hobby. He slaps his palms over Touya’s asscheeks and suckles his taint with so much enthusiasm that Touya nearly self-immolates.
He can feel his partner chirping and making all these insane noises, but it’s muffled enough that they won’t escape the room. And it’s never made Touya so jealous in his life. He’s fighting the urge to moan and fog up the huge fucking mirror in front of him.
“Kei,” He squeaks, very suddenly feeling lame. His toes curl into the bathroom rug and the intensity of it all has him feeling like a virgin. Keigo’s tongue does something inexplicable and Touya actually whimpers.
This is embarrassing, actually?
What if he’s just been full of crap this whole time? Almost eight years together and maybe Touya’s just been a goddamn poser their entire relationship? Maybe he’s the sniveling little bitch instead of Keigo, and—
“Oh, fuck,” He groans, unable to hold it in anymore. Keigo teases him with just a fingertip and Touya’s knees nearly buckle.
Yeah, it—it is embarrassing.
“Kei, maybe—,” he pushes to stand, but a whole mess of feathers swarm along his spine and nudge Touya back down to the vanity. They’re gentle, but insistent.
Keigo sends one to turn on the shower, to add some white noise and drown them out. Fuck the water bill, apparently. Another darts off, probably to find lube in the bedroom.
Then Keigo pulls back and bites the swell of Touya’s asscheek.
“Do you actually want to stop, or do you just feel shy?” Keigo asks, leaving room for an honest answer. He pauses completely, not trying to pressure him.
That sounds even dumber; does Touya feel shy? He’s not a teenager. He’s done this before, even if it’s been a really long time. Touya’s not a prude or something.
Keigo shifts to kiss his lower back. It’s chaste and comforting, not a bid to move further. The silence clearly goes on too long because Touya hears a scuffle, like Keigo’s getting back onto his feet.
“Wait.” Touya puffs. He reaches back and around, accidentally smacks Keigo in the temple but then knots into his hair. There’s a flapping noise, the flutter of his pared-down wings beating in excitement.
“I don’t want to stop, Birdie…So, get back to it.”
In some semblance of power, Touya yanks Keigo’s bangs.
Touya’s hand is jostled off when Keigo leans in, sloppy and eager. He sees a feather zip by in his peripheral vision, then hears the thump of the lube bottle hitting the floor, and the reverb of the bathroom door closing again. Keigo figures out his whole talons issue quickly enough, because pretty soon a slick finger is pressing into Touya, a little at a time.
And, fuck, it’s. Yeah. It’s nice. Initial discomfort swells into pleasant nerves that tickle down Touya’s legs once Keigo gets a rhythm going.
Touya grunts into his palm and shuts his eyes, focusing on the feeling. Focusing on Keigo inside him, on familiar, doting fingers that nearly shake with how much he’s holding back. Another tweet sparks against Touya’s skin and he can tell Keigo’s already wired.
“Chill out, Birdie, thought you were supposed to be quiet doing this.” Touya whisper-shouts over the running shower. When Keigo picks up speed, Touya’s voice cracks at the end.
“Mmm,” is the only response he gets. That, and a sudden, unrelenting pressure on his g-spot.
“Shit,” Touya inhales. Which is the perfect encouragement for Keigo, who circles over the spot about a million fucking times until he’s goddamn squirming.
“Shit, holy shit,” Touya already feels the stupid fireworks. And they’re incredible. Fuck.
Keigo slips his fingers out and spreads Touya wide, admiring his handiwork. He hums and licks a hot stripe between his cheeks. In the mirror, Touya’s face goes deep cherry-red.
“Gonna fuck you so good like you always fuck me.” Keigo whispers as he trails kisses everywhere. From within him, to his hip, to the dimples on his back. Keigo clutches his waist and uses it to clumsily stand up.
Touya scrapes a hand over his forehead, pushing back his stringy hair in the humidity of the bathroom. The feather earlier just kind of—cranked the shower handle to the hottest setting. He isn’t sweating, but condensation gathers all over, especially on his fiery skin. Actually, half the fucking steam in here might be from Touya.
“You need more prep or can I do that?” Keigo asks, voice strained. Claws creep out again, catching on fabric when he shoves Touya’s shirt up to his armpits. “Can you take this off? Can I fuck you?”
Touya grumbles and tumbles out of his shirt, dropping it into the sink carelessly. He watches the reflection of Keigo take off his own pants one-handed, like he doesn’t want to release the grip on his ribcage.
It makes him shiver.
Touya breathes deeply and Keigo’s hand flexes on him. Keigo’s so strong, it’s simultaneously pissing Touya off and filling him with insatiable desire.
“You can do that.” Touya murmurs, heart pumping. He’s never ridden a roller coaster, but he imagines this mounting anticipation is exactly what it would feel like.
Keigo’s barren wings snap again and then he lounges himself over Touya’s back. Wet kisses pepper his throat, behind his ear, everywhere the wayward feathers brushed earlier. He’s already sensitive, fights the urge to fucking tremble.
Keigo palms the back of his neck roughly and twists Touya’s face to kiss him, to bite him, to growl into him. Touya white-knuckles the countertop at the heavy feeling behind him, at the glide of Keigo’s cock, at the way he makes out with Touya and abruptly shoves it into him at the same time.
Touya keens. He doesn’t mean to. He manages to do it onto Keigo’s tongue, and hopefully that masks the worst of it.
“Jesus Christ,” Touya gasps, half onto his lips, head snapping back.
He locks eyes with the reflection of his partner. Keigo’s mouth drops open and his eyebrows knit in ecstasy. Even in euphoria, he still looks sharp and possessive. The arrows under his eyes grow darker and he sings, low and crooning. Keigo starts fucking into him with a territorial rumble and Touya feels it vibrate through his entire body. He does it several times in a row, thrumming to Touya’s core.
Keigo.
Keigo’s having him.
It’s—it’s never been like this. Touya tries not to mewl like a fucking kitten, scrambling for purchase at the quick pattern, at the way Keigo rails his prostate again, and again, and again. His pelvis aches from where it’s crushed into the edge of the sink, and his own dick isn’t getting an ounce of relief, but the—the fucking internal bloom bursts hot, over and over.
Touya’s afraid he’s going to come very fast. No wonder Keigo pleads for this like a little whore. He wants to inject this into his veins.
“Holy fuck,” Touya huffs quietly. He wants to let loose, to shout from the rooftops. Keigo roves over the back of his neck again, closing over the top knob of his spine. Touya barely gets to catch sight of his partner’s eyes rolling back before his own face is promptly smushed into the marble.
And he almost ignites.
He can’t move.
He can’t move and it’s—fuck. Yeah. It’s hot as hell.
Touya chokes on his own spit. He can tell his skin is blistering right now. He’s practically sizzling, but it only eggs Keigo on.
“That’s right.” His Birdie hisses, other hand catching his wrist again. Keigo locks it behind his lower back and fucks him into the next dimension. Zero to one hundred, Keigo’s been pounding him at a relentless speed since he pushed inside.
“You’re mine.” Keigo declares quietly, barely audible over the shower, like he’s in a fugue state. More to himself than to Touya. “You’re mine and you’re not fucking going anywhere. Only mine.”
The fingers on his neck scratch but it’s good, it’s so good. Touya wants to slam his skull into the stone he’s crushed into but he can’t even open his jaw. He’s pinned, he’s trapped. He lets Keigo take him, tries to nod.
“My mate,” Keigo reiterates, thrusting deeper, quicker, pressing harder.
And then he fucking bites Touya, hard, on the shoulder.
“Ow, bitch!” Touya yelps and breaks free, back arching.
“So everybody knows you’re mine,” Keigo explains, licking over the mark like it’ll heal it, bracing him down again. Touya’s nose is back to the countertop and his stupid cock bounces in enjoyment.
God, they’re so idiotically made for each other.
“Thought—ah, Kei, fuck.” Another nibble, on his shoulder blade. “Thought that’s what the rings are for? No one can see a bite there, anyway?”
Keigo jerks his hips upward, making Touya see stars. Then he slows. The stretch isn’t comfortable, but it’s so good, so fucking good. Touya still wants it to last forever.
“You want some visible ones?” Keigo teases, finally easing up the pressure on his neck. Touya lifts his head and finds Keigo’s eyes again. They shimmer like gold, like a sunrise, like a first place medallion. Keigo licks his lips.
They huff in the humid air, Keigo still nestled completely inside him. He lets up on Touya’s arm, instead trails both hands down his back, skating pointy talons over sticky skin. He sneaks one forward to take hold of Touya’s dick, leaves the other thumb pinching the curve of his ass.
Touya’s legs almost give out again. Keigo humps closer and languidly starts jerking him off.
“I-I think you already did plenty to my neck.” Touya barks back, eyelids fluttering.
“Wanna paint you,” Keigo whispers again, borderline delirious. “Wanna—ngh—decorate you. Make you shine.—Can I buy you more jewelry? God, Touya, you’re so hot.”
This is emphasized with a brutal roll of hips, one that makes precum leak from Touya’s cock. He can’t help it, he starts to meet the pace. Fucking himself backwards on Keigo’s dick like he’s needy for it, because he is.
“Yeah,” Touya nods, mindless now. Stupid on dick. “Whatever you want.”
“Want you,” Keigo breathes, doubling down on his efforts. He’s rocking, and pressing, and stroking, and Touya is definitely whining. Probably loudly? He almost suffocates trying to stop.
Oops—he chars the counter, too, just a smudge of black.
“Ruin it,” Keigo encourages, twittering. “Show me how good it feels, Touya.”
“Ah, ah—Kei.”
Touya’s brain starts to shut off. He plummets into instinct, nature, into being Keigo’s mate, if that’s what he fucking wants. He won’t be pliant, but.
He’ll also do whatever the hell Keigo wants.
It smells like hot metal again, so Touya has to wrench his arm away from the faucet. Keigo laughs, ecstatic, and then—holy shit he fucks him like this is their last night on Earth.
Touya prays that Shoto’s dead to the world and the walls in this rich boy condo are thick, because he can’t hold back the sounds he’s making anymore. It’s futile. And Keigo’s repeating his name like it’s the only thing he knows. Well, that and—
“Mine, mine, you’re mine.”
Keigo punctuates each word with a slam of hips, and soon Touya’s spilling into his hand and trying not to set the building on fucking fire. He holds his ragged breath so he doesn’t scream.
“Yeah, fuck, baby, there you go,” Keigo encourages, nonstop. He hammers into him until it’s too much, until Touya’s fingertips are blue with flames, and he’s rasping out smoke, and then—
“Oooooh, Touya, Touya,” Keigo praises quietly, clamping his jaw closed so fast that he hears the crack of teeth. Touya pants into the countertop and feels Keigo’s warmth flood him, feels a cloud of feathers cuddle up to him immediately. Keigo apparently wants to touch him and absorb him with every possible sense he has. He rides it out for ages, until Touya’s about to fucking sob.
Wisps of smog drift to the ceiling when Keigo finally slumps against him. The planes of his torso expand into Touya’s sweltering back as he takes gulps of air, while Touya tries to remember how his own lungs work. Keigo’s sweaty where Touya is not, but he doesn’t push him off, for now. He’s almost like a security blanket.
“I feel kinda bad,” Keigo says eventually into the shell of his ear. “I came stupid fast. Wanted to give you more.”
Touya can’t help but smile. He rolls his eyes. Idiot.
“You gave me plenty, Birdie. That was…good.” Touya admits. He ‘came stupid fast,’ too. His body’s still fuzzy with pleasure and his ankles are starting to get pins and needles from all of Keigo’s weight hanging over him.
“Yeah?” Keigo asks. His scaled-down wings posture and flap with pride.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Touya retorts weakly. He shrugs a little and Keigo gets the message. Gently, he kisses the apple of Touya’s cheek, and then his shoulder, and then pulls out. It’s strange, for a second, breaking their connection, but more feathers swish through Touya’s hair and along his arms until his pulse calms to normal.
Keigo traces his claws lightly along Touya’s spine, bringing him back to planet Earth. His reflection is still mussed, bright red and glistening from the steam of the shower. Touya swears there are hearts in his partner’s fucking irises.
“I could probably…go again?” Keigo suggests, dipping his thumb into the curve of Touya’s waist. His gaze follows where it goes, like it’s a stream of water in the desert.
“Pfft, in your fucking dreams.” Touya taunts. He finally wills himself to stand up, almost crashing on the condensation-covered countertop. He turns around in the bracket of Keigo’s arms and meets a pair of lovesick golden eyes.
“It’s not even spring yet, Kei.” Touya says. They share breath as Keigo keeps trying to inch closer. His hands clasp behind Touya’s lower back. He looks devilish, and Touya would be fucking lying if he said it wasn’t doing something for him.
That had been a lot, but in a good way…so, Touya does think he can manage one more.
“Early winter is like, almost spring.” Keigo says flippantly. A feather flicks against Touya’s ass cheek, instigating him.
Touya sucks his teeth and sighs, but Keigo can tell he’s bluffing. And when he guesses right he grins, like sunshine personified.
Touya leans forward and watches Keigo quiver in anticipation.
“Fine, spoil me again, Birdie.”
——
“How’d you sleep last night, Shoto?” Keigo asks brightly the next morning over coffee, and Touya nearly fucking spills his own mug.
His partner and younger brother are seated at the dining table while Touya hovers by the toaster, bread in one hand and macchiato in the other.
“Fine. I was out all night.” Shoto answers, sipping his drink and checking his email. “I was more tired than I thought.”
“Oh good, sometimes that couch isn’t the most comfortable, that’s all.”
Keigo fucking cuts his eyes over and winks at Touya.
Sly motherfucking bastard. He knows what he did and he knows he’s a proud little douche over it.
There’s a sudden pop and a poof of smoke as Touya burns the perfectly good piece of sourdough he’s holding.
Shoto looks up and tilts his head in concern. “Are you all right?”
With a grumble, Touya drops the blackened brick into the trash.
“Never better.” He says flatly. Is his face pink? Probably.
Fuck Keigo.
Thankfully, Shoto doesn’t prod. He sets his cup down and starts typing again, probably replying “affirmative” or something dorky as hell to today’s work schedule.
“Anyway, it was fine.” Shoto nods. “Thank you for the hospitality.”
“Of course!” Keigo grins. He smirks at Touya again and has the audacity to say, “You’re welcome any time!”
And then Touya burns piece of bread number two.
*************
Spring brings the usual. Keigo being outrageously horned-up and obnoxiously in love with one Touya Todoroki.
One Touya Todoroki who lives in his house now. So, that’s a plus.
With his hero duties behind him, Keigo has…abundant free time too, so, spring is especially well-spent this year.
And spring also brings a hero wedding. Touya very begrudgingly agrees to attend Midoriya and Bakugou’s soiree, much to Keigo’s surprise.
He cleans up nice, Keigo teases him, when they’re getting ready (after they fuck in the closet). But he means it.
Keigo spends the entire day memorizing the way Touya looks in a sleek charcoal-grey suit, because him wearing one is a rare occurrence. He stares at him incessantly, engraving Touya further into his mind. He studies the angular lines of his face, the windswept look of his styled, snowy hair, the clean, rich fabric that hugs him just right, the expensive studs and hoops Keigo bought him (Touya was thrilled to get his trio of nose piercings re-done a few weeks ago).
And there’s also that black band on his left finger. It keeps catching Keigo’s eye, flaring dully in the late afternoon sunlight.
It makes him so needy, so possessive. Is that crazy? Maybe. Keigo’s been a little crazy since the first blowjob, shoved against a tree.
What if they dip for a few minutes? It’s not too suspicious, like, walking to the bathroom together, right? Girls do that all the time, so.
Touya catches his eye. He observes Keigo for a second, and then tugs low on his wing.
It’s classic scolding behavior. Keigo must look like an animal. Is he chittering? He clears his throat and schools his expression, realizing that his feathers are vibrating.
Ugh. Later.
“That really was a nice ceremony,” Rumi comments, knocking back the remainder of her sauvignon blanc. She sets it down a little aggressively on the high top table, grinning. “But I did wanna see Bakugou sniffle just a little bit. He’s such a hard ass. I’m gonna tell him I saw a tear in his eye just to fuck with him later.”
“I did not really expect Bakugou to cry. Midoriya, however…” Tokoyami laughs lightly.
Shoto nods, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He’s piling on hors d’oeuvres like he hasn’t eaten in days. Maybe he hasn’t? He barely stops working, now that he and Shinsou are building their own agency.
“Yes, Izuku was very on brand.” Shinsou chimes in for his partner, since he’s chewing on something.
They stand in the garden courtyard of a glitzy hotel with nearly one hundred other people. The wedding of two top-ranked heroes certainly garners a crowd. Their class from U.A. alone makes up a huge chunk of it.
There are very few decorations—the colorful flowers and lively plants do the legwork. Lots of tables dot the area for people to hover, and chat, and drink, and eat. Bakugou and Midoriya disappeared to take photos, which Bakugou characteristically complained loudly about, so the guests mill around for a while until it’s time for dinner.
Touya’s visibly uneasy. Even though he’s been out of prison a few months now, he’s on-edge in large groups of people. Keigo keeps tabs on his body language, soothes with a feather where he can, when it isn’t obvious.
“Hey,” Rumi says suddenly, slapping a hand over Touya’s shoulder. He jumps, almost spilling his glass.
“Jesus, what?” Touya blinks. His pinot noir sloshes.
“How is the whole school thing going, anyway? You never talk about it.” Her rabbit ears flick curiously.
Aw. That’s sweet. Maybe Rumi can sense how tense he is, too. Talking about his studies might bring Touya out of his shell a little.
“Uh, it’s fine,” Touya answers, lightly rolling his shoulder to jostle her off. “I take an exam next month that would basically equate to passing high school. And then from there I can…apply to universities, I guess.”
He’s been studying so much. Books strewn across the table, pages upon pages printed and highlighted, journals full of notes. Keigo works from home most of the time, and they hunch over laptops together, clicking away. But they take plenty of breaks, too. Of course.
Has he mentioned it’s spring?
“One step closer to proving Dad wrong.” Shoto says casually after his next bite.
Everyone stiffens, except for Shoto. It’s some unspoken thing; the other Todorokis are the only ones who can bring up Endeavor around Touya. Otherwise, he’s off-limits. Keigo doesn’t even like to breach the subject when he doesn’t have to.
Touya takes a drink, but the liquid in his glass doesn’t boil, so that’s a good sign. After a beat of silence, he shoves his free hand in his pocket and nods, too.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Endeavor has thankfully been…radio silent. Forced into retirement, quietly. It was all swept under the rug. The paparazzi still hounds everyone for information when they can, especially in light of Keigo’s career change and Shoto’s new venture, but the explosive fallout is becoming old news. Finally.
Keigo heard through the grapevine (All Might) that Endeavor’s doing pencil-pusher shit behind the scenes. He still thinks about ripping his head off, or even just egging his house, but as long as they don’t see his face, Keigo can let it go to preserve the peace.
And to keep Dabi at bay.
“So you did end up getting approval on all that then?” Rumi asks, leaning against the high-top on one elbow. “Can you be my physical therapist? My shoulder’s been hurting like a bitch lately, lemme tell you.”
She mocks throwing a punch.
“Yeah. As long as I maintain the boundaries of my fucking parole, I can go to school online for now. They’ll reevaluate later.”
And when it’s been much later, and Touya’s inevitably given more freedom due to good behavior, they’ll finally let the cat out of the bag about his Quirk to the officials. Neither of them want that device in his body forever, and, besides, a heat Quirk could be really beneficial for a physical therapist.
“Sweet.” Rumi fake-punches Touya four more times in a mock combo. He finally stops her and redirects her fist to Keigo. She just snickers.
“What did you do to it?” Keigo asks, taking the “blow” to his shoulder.
Rumi grins, looking diabolical as always. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe if you hadn’t ditched us I could share my fun work stories with you. Only my cool, new partner is in the loop.”
Keigo pouts and sends puppy-dog eyes at Tokoyami. His former intern squints at the expression.
“And your cool, new partner will tell me, won’t you, Fumikage?” Keigo flutters his wings hopefully. “Did Rumi do something embarrassing on your shift together?”
Fumikage opens his mouth to answer, when the music cuts out. Kirishima excitedly explains over the speakers that it’s time to move inside for dinner.
“Guess you’ll never know, Keigo.” Rumi jeers, patting him heartily on the cheek. She throws him a wink, which means she’s joking and will surely tell him their patrol story another time.
Keigo. It’s still weird to have everyone call him that, but it’s a little easier every time.
The masses slowly funnel into the reception hall, sluggish from downing appetizers and alcohol. Keigo takes Touya’s hand, determined to hold it for most of the night.
The ballroom is grandiose and candlelit, decorated with sage green drapes and clippings from the garden in crystal vases. There’s a gigantic dance floor in the center of all the round tables, three different bars, and a big disco ball spinning on the ceiling. They find their table with relative ease and settle in for the first dance.
Bakugou and Midoriya are cute, to the say the least. Looking more done-up than Keigo’s ever seen them, but still so authentically…themselves. One bubbly goofball and one sharp-tongued hothead. They slow dance and stare at each other like no one else exists.
Love is weird.
Keigo spares a look to his left, at Touya.
Who’s already looking at him.
His partner gently kicks him under the table and resumes watching the dance, like the mini-moment never even happened.
Secret softie.
“You know what they say,” Keigo hears Shinsou whisper to Shoto, two seats over, “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage.”
The two of them cackle, their temples pressed together, continuing to watch the couple in newly-wedded bliss. It wouldn’t be surprising actually, if the top heroes had a kid right away. Especially with how they did a speed run on the whole dating to engagement to marriage thing.
It’s funny to think about, those two as parents.
Hm.
Keigo looks at Touya again.
The dance turns into dinner, and then toasting, Best Man speeches (Kirishima’s: enthusiastic, Shoto’s: short and sweet), cake, and then absolute debauchery on the dance floor. The lights drop even lower, Present Mic takes the DJ booth, and the bass gets cranked up to an ear-splitting level.
“Please.”
“Kei, no.”
“Please, please.”
“Keigo.”
“Please, please, pleaseeee.”
“Seriously? Are you a fucking child? How many times do I have to say ‘no’?” Touya crosses his arms. “I’m not gonna go out there and look like an idiot in front of all these people I don’t even know.”
They’ve been alone at their dining table for a couple of minutes now. After the first few songs, Rumi managed to drag even Tokoyami and Shinsou out there. The crowd is a gyrating mass, but Keigo sees her ears every once in a while. There’s also a concerning number of yellow sparks shooting into the air? Probably Kaminari.
“Exactly,” Keigo pouts. He scoots his chair closer, shoving his knees into Touya’s thigh. Keigo plops his head onto Touya’s shoulder. “You don’t even know most of them. So who cares?”
He may have had a few more drinks during dinner. He may not care if he’s being kind of annoying right now. Love is in the air, obviously. He wants to dance at a wedding with his partner/mate/husband.
“Please,” he says again, to Touya’s grumbling silence. Keigo flutters his wings and leans a little closer, stealing one kiss on his jaw. “Dance with me or let me give you head in the bathroom.”
“Keigo,” Touya actually laughs, because he’s been drinking, too. He shoves Keigo’s face away and sighs.
“C’mon,” Keigo whines, “we used to do that all the time. Warehouses, train stations. What’s a little bathroom blowjob?”
“That was before I was on parole, Birdie. I think they can arrest you for public indecency.”
“Well!” Keigo grins, jumping to stand. “If you’re gonna be boring, I guess the only option is dancing, then!”
Touya gasps when Keigo drags him to his feet and then all the way to the edge of the dance floor. He loses his balance and wallops them right into the crowd. It parts easily, welcoming, accompanied by hoots and hollers.
Touya half-grimaces and half-smiles, letting Keigo grab onto his waist now that he’s stuck here. The people in their direct vicinity he knows only vaguely, so Keigo pretends it’s just the two of them. Like Bakugou and Midoriya during their first dance, lost in each other’s eyes and all those other cliches.
He loves Touya’s eyes. Smoldering blue, blazing like his fire.
The bass thumps in his chest and Keigo kisses him. It’s brief and sweaty (on Keigo’s part, anyway). He runs his hands up Touya’s sides and soon they’re twisting to the beat.
“See?” Keigo shouts over the music. “Not so bad, huh?”
“I’d have roasted anybody else for making me do this, y’know?” Touya says, low in his ear. “You’re lucky I love you, Kei.”
Of course he has to kiss him again after that, and Keigo’s about to say, “actually fuck this, let me go down on you in the bathroom, seriously,” when Rumi crashes into them from out of nowhere. With a mischievous grin, she slides between their embrace and steals Touya. Shoto appears, giggling like a madman. His cheeks are pink and he’s got Midoriya hung over his shoulders. They’ve both lost their suit jackets and Shoto’s tie is wrapped around his forehead. Keigo can only assume he didn’t do that to himself.
“She insisted.” Shoto explains from behind his hand. He tugs out his phone to take a video.
“Let me have this dance, you bastard.” Rumi laughs wickedly while Touya tries to fight her off half-heartedly. Even when he dead-weights, she twirls him like a ballerina. He underestimates both her strength and insane determination.
Midoriya holds up his beer bottle. His freckled cheeks are flushed from booze and unbridled joy.
“We’re glad you guys could come, Hawks!” He says brightly. “Mina has also stolen Kacchan, do you wanna dance with me and Shoto?”
“Sure,” Keigo smirks, catching sight of Dark Shadow looping around Touya, now. “And congrats, again, Midoriya! I’m really glad, too.”
——
The partying goes on for hours and the drinks flow like water. Touya finally manages to break away from Rumi after a few songs, but Keigo doesn’t let him leave the dance floor. The evening ticks away under the glimmer of the disco ball. Five minutes to midnight, Present Mic announces they’re going to “slow things down.”
The track morphs into a sweet, popular one from the radio. A little less club and a lot more piano, with beautiful, crooning lyrics. The LEDs shift to an amber glow and a handful of people scatter as the couples pair up. When the crowd thins out, Keigo snatches Touya closer and curls his wings around the two of them like curtains.
“Really covert.” Touya quips, but his shoulders sag with secret relief. Keigo knows there aren’t any eyes on them at this point (everyone is wailing about how cute Midoriya and Bakugou are), but Touya likes his privacy.
They clasp left hands and Keigo squeezes Touya’s shoulder. His metallic one settles at Keigo’s hip and they drift in slow circles, hidden from the world.
“…Surprised I’m not stepping on your feet.” Touya says quietly, unexpectedly. Red feathers behind his head make his blue eyes radiant. “I’ve never slow danced with anyone like this.”
Keigo’s mouth turns up at the corner and he buries his forehead in Touya’s neck. The collar of his shirt is crumpled after hours of being out. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, and it smells rich like cologne.
Keigo inhales deeply before he speaks. Mate, mate, mate, his brain supplies pleasantly.
“I know you said you’re not one for the big, white wedding but…you look pretty good here, I gotta say.” Keigo admits.
Touya doesn’t stiffen, but he doesn’t respond, either.
“…It’s worth noting, too,” Keigo continues carefully, “…that you’ve changed your mind about a lot of things over the years, Hot Stuff. Especially when it comes to me.”
He feels Touya’s snort in his hair. At least he isn’t nervous.
“Oh, is that what you think?” Touya scoffs.
Keigo grins. “Yep.”
“Hm. Inflated ego you’ve got there.” Touya punctuates his words with a firmer hold on Keigo’s waist.
He almost warbles in reply, has to hold it back.
“Oh, you know. If the shoe fits.”
Touya drags him in, pressing their bodies flush together. But nothing more. Being a tease, making Keigo’s slutty, little heart race.
“…Well what is it, you’re itching to be my wife that badly? Huh?”
Shit.
Fuck.
He sure is.
“Ooooh, don’t get me all frisky, Touya, I’ll steal the spotlight from Bakugou and Midoriya.” Keigo reprimands, feathers fluffing out.
Then, to Keigo’s surprise, Touya spins him away, like they’re professional freaking ballroom dancers. He almost loses his balance but manages not to crash into Aizawa and Present Mic, just by a hair.
When Keigo twirls back inward, like the move was all planned, Touya pinches him hard in the side.
“You’re already fucking frisky, you brat.”
He’s not wrong. So Keigo swoops in for another kiss.
When the song eventually ends, Uraraka and Iida pass around tiny vials of bubbles with miniature wands. Everyone’s instructed to line up alongside the exit and blow as many as they can for Bakugou and Midoriya to run through. The drunken lot of them all gather, and the newlyweds pause at the start.
Before they go, Bakugou addresses them. He’s bright red and disheveled, but Keigo’s never seen him so excited. Which is really saying something about a guy who hoots every time he explodes something.
“Thanks for coming, all you fuckin’ extras. It made Izuku really happy.” He hollers, one arm wrapped around his partner.
Midoriya slaps him on the bicep and Bakugou rolls his eyes. He corrects himself.
“Ugh, fucking fine, it made both of us really happy. There.” Bakugou mushes a hard kiss onto his partner’s cheek and then catches his hand. “Now get the hell out of here, the ballroom closes at one AM or the bill’s on your asses. I gotta go ravage my husband.”
“Kacchan!” Midoriya giggles, but doesn’t argue. The love birds break into a clumsy run and hurry off to the hotel across the courtyard to presumably consummate their marriage. Loads of iridescent bubbles follow in their wake, with cheers so loud they could break the sound barrier.
They dump their bubbles into a little basket as they leave. Keigo smiles a dopey smile and follows the masses out of the event space. He does a double take when he sees Mt. Lady on Rumi’s arm. She shoots him a devilish grin, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and mouths, fuck yeah! The two of them quickly disappear into the back seat of a ritzy Uber with heavily tinted windows, and it speeds away into the night.
Huh. Keigo can’t wait to hear about that.
Tokoyami bids everyone good night and leaves with a few people Keigo recognizes from class 1-A. Dark Shadow loops in buzzed circles behind them until the group disappears.
Shinsou trails in the very back with Shoto half-asleep on his shoulders, piggy-back style, but he heads into the lobby since they’ve got a room reserved, too.
He gives Keigo and Touya a weary salute and says, “Wish me luck with Shoto’s hangover of the century. He’s gonna wake up puking fire and ice.”
“Have fun with that.” Touya taunts, mussing up his brother’s hair in passing.
Keigo lingers on the sidewalk in front of the hotel as the guests disperse, slipping his hands onto Touya’s forearms. He glides up to his biceps, links over his shoulders. Touya meets his eyes, looking uncharacteristically soft.
“What is it?” He asks. His curious gaze rakes over Keigo’s face, touches on his lips. Makes him feel warm. Or maybe that’s Touya’s Quirk.
Or maybe it’s both.
“I dunno.” Keigo snuggles him.
Except, he totally knows. He’s just in love, that’s all. And his brain is full of weddings, and happily-ever-after, and soulmates, and all that rosy, cliché stuff.
Touya lightly jostles him.
“Well, Birdie, you got me into an idiot suit, we danced—both regular speed and slow—we ate the stupid cake, we participated in the toast, we drank more than I’ve had in years—and I’m gonna feel it tomorrow, holy shit. Let’s go home now. These shoes are fucking killing my feet.”
Keigo’s still tipsy, lets himself swim in it. He kisses Touya on the nose and struggles to hold back the surprise.
“Hmmm, no. We aren’t going home, Hot Stuff.”
“…Excuse me?” Touya taps him on the head. “If there’s some after party bullshit I am not up for it, okay? My social battery died when we fucking got here.”
Keigo keeps hanging off of him like a leech and Touya lets Keigo’s sweaty dress shirt wrinkle into his own.
Time to let the cat out of the bag.
Keigo smirks and feels himself twitter.
“I mayyy have booked us a room here.”
“…What?” Touya’s brows hike up his forehead. Keigo ponders what it would look like if he pierced one. Hot, definitely. “Why? I know you’re too blitzed to drive but I can?”
“Um, you don’t have a license? And no you can’t, we went drink for drink.” Keigo says back, fluttering his lashes in what he hopes is an enticing way.
Touya grumbles. “All right, well, we can call a cab?”
Keigo’s half-lidded eyes flick upwards then, drinking Touya in like he’s another glass of Bacardi and Coke. He squeezes him around the neck and goes on his tiptoes enough to mouth Touya’s ear. His whisper must be electric, because he notices Touya break out in goosebumps.
“Home is far, Touya…and I want you now instead.”
Touya’s entire body cooks under his touch. The undercurrent of his Quirk, right below the skin, right beneath a few layers of expensive, designer fabric.
Keigo’s feathers fluff up in response.
Got him.
“Oh?” Touya lilts back with a soft laugh. “Is that so?”
“Mmhm.” Keigo nods, nipping an earring. In the shadows, and the thinning crowd, and the lull of mild intoxication, Touya lets him.
“Of course you did,” Touya sighs, but it’s without malice. He leans back, untangling Keigo from his torso.
Touya waves his metallic hand in a grand, flippant gesture.
“Lead the way then, you little whore,” he smirks.
Keigo sure can do that, he’s still the fastest fucking man alive, even if he’s retired. He practically flies them to the front desk and throws down his credit card. He signs blindly for all charges with lightning speed while Touya hooks a finger in his belt loop. Then he’s off like a rocket, dragging Touya behind him—so quickly that the receptionist has to call them back for the room key.
“Idiot,” Touya mumbles into his mouth once they’re in the elevator. And Keigo can’t even complain. Spring is surging in his veins; Touya can call him whatever he wants.
They hop off on one of the top floors (the newlyweds scored the penthouse, of course), pants practically unbuttoned. Keigo doesn’t even care if some security guard just got half a show watching them tongue each other’s throats from the camera in the elevator. All he can think about is the smell of cinnamon, the safe and sound temperature of his mate.
“You just walked past the room, genius. That’s a cleaning closet.” Touya snarks, snatching the ridge of Keigo’s wing to stop him in his tracks. It’s right over his nearly-invisible burn scar, where Touya marked him, and he has to snap his teeth shut to hold back a sound at that.
“Right,” Keigo clears his throat, turning one-eighty. They’re on one of the single-room floors, how had he even missed it?
He smiles sheepishly and keys into the lock.
“One track mind, huh?” Touya croons, a few steps behind him.
They flick on the light switch by the door, illuminating a grand suite with golden and bronze embellishments. The bed is at the center of the room, even bigger than the one at home, facing a gigantic television. A set of balcony doors let in moonlight from outside through sheer, creamy curtains. There’s an oak armoire, a tan chaise with a billion pillows, an ornate rug, and a wide, arched door leading to the bathroom. Frosted glass hides pearlescent countertops and an immense shower.
“Wow, Birdie, you couldn’t splurge for anything nicer?” Touya jokes, slipping out of his loafers.
“No, sorry,” Keigo kicks off his too, sending one flying into the wall. His neck feels prickly already. “Maybe you should punish me for how shitty the accommodations I booked are?”
“Ha!” Touya barks a laugh, mouth stretching wide in a handsome grin. He starts forward while Keigo backpedals eagerly, already making their way towards the bed. Touya shrugs out of his suit jacket and lets it plop to the floor.
“Thought for sure you’d be asking to have a turn again, with how much you like that lately.”
“Mm,” Keigo slows, considering. He sure does like fucking the shit out of Touya. To see the man who’s normally so edgy go soft and weak—it riles him up a lot.
“Okay, you’re right,” Keigo nods, changing his mind, licking his lips, “let’s play that game.”
Except Touya does not change course. He locks onto Keigo like he’s got him targeted in a fucking scope and continues his advance. Keigo blinks and before he can turn things around, the backs of his knees hit the mattress. His stomach swoops when Touya inches closer.
“I don’t think so, honey.”
Oh.
Yeah, okay, this is—Keigo swallows. His eyes almost roll back.
Fuck it, this is his rightful role. Mmhm. He never wants to fuck Touya again (that’s a lie, this is just tonight), he just wants to take it, take it, take it—
“Shit!” Keigo gasps when Touya clutches his bicep and swings him around to face the chaise. His other hand burrows into the back of Keigo’s jacket and starts to yank it off.
“Feathers,” Touya commands with another tug. In other words, get them out of the way so Keigo can be stripped.
“Oh,” Keigo says dumbly, sending them in a flurry to the side. Touya doesn’t waste any time wrangling him out of his jacket, and then his dress shirt (while Keigo frantically unbuttons it), and then his undershirt, until his torso is bare.
And then he grips Keigo’s waist, fingers dancing up his ribs where another scar colors his skin. It took Touya a while to get used to seeing it, but the mark fills Keigo with a strange swell of pride. He shudders when Touya squeezes.
“Now put them back.” Touya demands, voice low and velvety.
His feathers swoosh back into place in an elegant whirlwind of red. They shuffle and quiver, well aware that their favorite person is very close by.
Touya dips forward to press a kiss to the top of Keigo’s spine. His lips trek down, while his palms crawl up, and Keigo knows how good it’ll feel when they meet in the middle. He’s already tenting his fucking pants over it.
“I think,” Touya whispers into his skin, exhaling unnatural heat. It’s like hot water rushing down his back. It’s…wet, almost.
Touya licks him. Ah. Actually wet now.
“I’m gonna need to preen you after tonight.”
Keigo inhales when the tips of Touya’s fingers brush the underside of his wings. If he wasn’t already horny as hell, he’s off the charts, now. Keigo whimpers.
Touya presses up, two fingers nudging into the downy part. He suckles lower and lower, while digging in higher and higher, and Keigo loses his balance, tumbling into the chaise.
“There we go,” Touya audibly grins before fucking mounting him. He sits cozily on Keigo’s lower back and buries his hands right where Keigo wants them.
“O-oh, fuck,” Keigo cries into the fabric, face smushed under throw pillows. Touya bats them aside so he can get a good view of his expression instead and then gets back to business.
“What did you say before? ‘Punish you’?” His partner chides, wrapping both hands fully around the sensitive, muscular base of each wing. It’s like lightning—through his wingspan, down his back, into his tailbone, into his core.
Keigo slams his head into the cushion with a shout, dick jerking at the sensation.
“Fuck, Touya,” He squeaks, back arcing away from him because it’s too much, way too fast. It always is with them. But that only earns another tug, this time with extra heat on it.
“Nnngh,” Keigo gasps, craning his neck and mashing his forehead down again. His feathers squirm, but the tiny ones (those fucking traitors), uncurl wide like flowers to the sun. Betraying him.
“What do you think, Kei?” Touya whispers, gliding away from the base and back up to the bends. He runs his hot fingers through coverts as he goes. It’s the wrong direction, but Keigo doesn’t hate it. And Touya knows he doesn’t hate it, because Touya’s the only one allowed to do it. His abdomen tightens at the familiar intimacy.
“You think cumming untouched in your dress pants like a little bitch is punishment enough?”
“Ah,” Keigo flushes. He hates that idea.
But his cock twitches again. So he loves that idea.
“C’mon, Touya, these are the only pants I have.” He whines, flapping uselessly.
His partner doesn’t seem to care. Touya pries open his wings in one smooth motion, splaying them wide, and Keigo sees stars.
“Shit.” He yelps. It’s like he’s doing a split. The tendons ache.
“What, rich boy like you can’t afford dry cleaning?”
Touya pulls them apart too hard—if it was anyone else, they’d be fucking bleeding out. The discomfort of being pinned, the alert from Keigo’s instincts to fight, fight, fight, the panic of being prone—it all quiets because it’s Touya. It’s still there in the back of his mind, of course, but the soul-deep desire to be fucked by him overpowers everything else.
Touya curls his wings backwards, bowing Keigo’s back. His shoulder blades burn from exertion and probably from Touya’s Quirk, too.
“Aahha, Touya—fuck.” Keigo grits his teeth and tries not to tear a hole into the seam of the chaise. He pants hard and then finally sags when Touya lets go with one hand. The other wing remains captive, rippling and poofy.
“You know our rules, Birdie.” Touya whispers.
Gently, painlessly, he twists a feather out of place. It goes easily because it knows him, but Keigo still jumps in surprise. He feels it in every cell of his body when Touya presses the vane to his lips.
“Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
Maybe there’s a hint of tongue, a graze of teeth. Keigo’s head swims too much for full clarity.
He just knows that he doesn’t want it to stop.
“Don’t,” he chokes out, because—yeah, wait, that’s definitely Touya’s tongue. Oh, yeah.
“Didn’t think so,” Touya chuckles, right into the barb. The vibration rockets through Keigo, sends him to another solar system. He chirps and crushes his face into the chaise.
“Touya,” he mumbles, voice high.
Keigo doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but Touya has the answer, as usual. With a new level of audacity, he sucks the feather between his lips and holds it there like a fucking cigarette. It’s hot, and wet, and it’s the most intense, no-contact blowjob he’s ever had. Keigo shudders and twitters, chest trembling. He can’t catch his fucking breath.
With both hands free, Touya wraps around the down of his wings again. He fires up his Quirk until Keigo feels like molasses, wriggling and rutting into the couch. Meanwhile, Touya ruts into him. Keigo feels the weight of his cock over the swell of his ass, rustling their slacks.
“I-I’m—holy shit, Touya,” Keigo shudders, abdomen clenching.
“Close already, Birdie?” It’s muffled, because that spare feather is in his teeth now. Touya picks up speed, both in his ministrations and full-on dry humping.
“Yeah, fuck, fuck.”
Molten fingers spread and knead into Keigo’s down while his ears start to ring, while his insides loop into a tight, euphoric coil. Any second he’s gonna snap like a rubber band. So fucking fast, but he can’t even be embarrassed, it feels too good.
Keigo’s feathers tremor like an earthquake. He feels the birdsong rumbling from his throat, but he can barely hear it. He does catch Touya’s teasing snicker and something along the lines of, “You’ve always been so easy, right, Kei?”
That does him in, because he has. Because he remembers a million times where he bared his throat to Touya, literally and metaphorically.
He’ll always let go, for him.
Keigo groans and spams, almost slapping Touya across the face with both wings when he comes. They flail so hard that it knocks his hands loose, but he finds purchase on Keigo’s hips while he rides out the orgasm. Touya rocks down onto him and hisses into the feather, contributing to full sensory overload, contributing to near-blindness when Keigo’s vision whites out.
Keigo does rip a hole into the chaise, too, right on the backrest. His talons gut through the pricey material and Touya just laughs. The music of that, through the feather still in his mouth—it feels like a sparkler, twinkling in Keigo’s lungs. He gasps and writhes, gouging the fabric even farther. Keigo’s wings beat the air—he can’t take anymore—he’s gonna scream—
And then Touya finally spits it out.
“Haah, God, shit, fuck,” Keigo blares, melting.
His lover’s palms skate up and down his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Keigo half-hums, half-moans. His pants are wet, and his brain is fuzzy, and his skin is full of electricity. His heart still thunders, but he has a feeling Touya won’t allow for much recovery time.
“Was that good?” Touya asks playfully, index fingers gliding upwards, towards his shoulder blades again. Keigo nearly wails.
“Touya,” He begs. But whether he’s begging him to stop, or to continue, Keigo himself doesn’t really know. He wants both.
“Answer me, Keigo.” Touya mutters, with another alluring threat. Hands ever-closer. Keigo’s wings lock up, folding in tightly to try and cover his overstimulated back.
“Yeah, yes, it was good.” Keigo manages to slur. “G-give me a sec.”
Decision made. Keigo sure fucking wants to continue.
“Jus’ a sec.”
Touya just cackles. He slides off the back, over Keigo’s thighs, nudging him with his cock as he goes. And then there’s one hand on his wrist and one on his elbow, and Keigo’s being tossed onto the bed like a rag doll.
Dizzy and dazed, he lands on his back. His feathers don’t like that right now, but Keigo’s too blitzed on hormones to move.
“When did you get so strong?” He mumbles, staring at Touya through half-lidded eyes.
Touya, who looks like he’s cut from a glossy magazine cover. Sleeves rolled up, ivory hair mussed, clinking open his belt buckle with deft, glowy fingers. He glimmers with jewelry that Keigo gifted him. He smells like smoke, and ash, and spice.
He feels like home.
“Shit,” Keigo sighs, blowing out a puff of air. If he was buzzed before, he feels drunk as hell now.
Touya drops his pants and boxers without preamble and then tousles out of his top layers. He stands there, naked, in this glamorous hotel room, straight out of a center fold and Keigo’s dreams.
“When you kicked my ass super easily a few months ago. It pissed me off. I don’t just study when you’re at work, y’know.”
Keigo knows. He eyeballs his biceps all the time, but, fuck.
He sure likes being manhandled.
Touya crowds him, scratching lithe fingers over Keigo’s thighs. He inches them upwards, scoffing at the dark stain on the front of his pants.
“You really did it, huh?”
“No duh,” Keigo wheezes. His trapped wings scuff over the comforter and his hips twitch when Touya touches his belt. So much for taking a sec.
That’s fine though. More than fine. Amazing, actually.
“Let’s see, is it fucking insane of me to wonder if you have lube on you? Otherwise we’re gonna hope for the best with the lotion in the bathroom.” Touya muses. He works open Keigo’s pants and shimmies them down his legs. Hums in satisfaction when he gets an eyeful of Keigo’s boxers.
“…Yeah.” Keigo replies, only half-embarrassed. With pink cheeks, he sends a feather to get a few plastic packets from his inner jacket pocket, wherever it was discarded to on the floor.
“Keigo!” Touya laughs brightly, genuinely, in surprise. It breaks some of the tension but it’s the sweetest sound Keigo’s ever heard.
“Fucking hop off,” Keigo defends himself with a lethargic swat. It doesn’t stop Touya’s eager hands as they slide off his underwear. “It’s spring. And aren’t you glad I’m such a sleaze, huh? You’re welcome.”
Touya smirks, scarred chin looking smooth and soft in the wash of moonlight. One of Keigo’s feathers drops off the lube and then scurries back home, like it’s fucking excited.
Honestly, yeah, that tracks.
The cool breeze of the AC makes Keigo’s lower stomach jump when it hits his bare skin, sloppy with his own cum. Touya emanates warmth for him, steps even closer, bends to press a kiss to his pec. His own hands tangle into Touya’s gelled hair.
“You look good like this, Birdie.” He relishes. Trails a gentle mouth up to his collarbone. Keigo lets his eyes slip closed, still hazy from his probably world-record orgasm.
And then Touya fucking bites him. Sharp canines right into the flesh.
“Ouch,” Keigo gripes, almost ripping his mate’s hair out. But it only makes Touya laugh again, into his shoulder.
“Payback.” He says simply.
Touya leans back, hands gliding to the divots in Keigo’s hips. His turquoise eyes follow their path and then—
“Ah, God,” Keigo gasps suddenly, at the palm swiping over his cock. It’s too much, oversensitive, overwhelming. Touya looks fiendish as he works it up and down.
“I’ll decorate you myself later, but we shouldn’t waste this, should we, Kei?” He mutters.
Keigo’s trying not to blast into orbit again, so he can’t really form a question or an answer. And then Touya’s smearing his cum into the coverts of his right wing.
“Oh—oh, fuck,” Keigo yelps, mouth dropping open in an earth-shattering moan. His feathers shake and shudder and his wing lifts to bat the air, but Touya presses it down into the mattress.
“I know you like it, don’t you? When you’re so messy for me?”
Touya flattens his wing and then wrings over his dick again, stirring it back to attention. He hurries into a breathtaking pace that leaves Keigo tweeting.
“Touya, Touya—”
“Don’t you?” He exhales, slowing his wrist, sending the first billow of smoke into the room. It circles over Keigo, makes him lightheaded. It stings his eyes, burns his throat, but he sucks it in. Adores it.
“Yeah,” Keigo coughs.
God, fuck, he can’t even think. Every sensation is zeroed in to Touya’s hands, Touya’s taste, Touya’s touch, and the sticky cum on his plumes.
He wants that to be Touya’s, too.
Touya heats up his Quirk until Keigo’s almost sobbing, until his lungs feel like they’re going to collapse from smog and euphoria. And then he stops.
Keigo pries open his eyes, unaware he’d squeezed them shut. And his heart falls into his stomach.
Touya’s so fucking gorgeous. Beautiful, sculpted, painted on canvas like a work of art. Formerly so cutthroat and dangerous, handsome like the devil. Tempting like sin.
And, he still is, but, Keigo’s looking at him with a flurry of hearts and a bouquet of roses, too. He’s softer, in the face of love.
His partner tears open the thin packet of lube and slicks himself up while Keigo’s chest nearly booms open. And then he grips over Keigo’s knees, digging into muscle to spread his legs open.
Keigo croons.
“Beg for it.” Touya commands simply, raising an eyebrow. He scoots forward until the tip of his hard-on brushes Keigo’s rim. He whines, high in his throat, like a little slut. Because he is a little slut, after all.
“Please,” Keigo urges, tilting his hips up to chase it. Touya’s left hand, the band on his finger, they ramp up to an almost unbearable temperature.
And Keigo hopes it scars.
“No,” Touya shakes his head, pushing harder, teasing, squeezing. He licks his fucking lips, Keigo’s going to die.
“You know what to beg for, Birdie. C’mon.”
Keigo’s skull drops back onto the bedding in time with his wings. They skitter uselessly, craving more. They bow into the sheets of their own accord while his back wiggles for further stimulation. Spring clatters around his brain like a marble, pinging around and infecting every thought.
“Touya,” Keigo trills, locking eyes with him. Blue and gold, swirly and shining. Touya’s gonna consume him like he has a thousand times, holy fucking shit. It’s moments like these that he reminds Keigo he’s a former villain.
Touya pulls back, lifting until his cock isn’t making contact with Keigo anymore. Jesus Christ, he wants to cry.
“Yeah?”
Keigo jerks up, birdsong stuck in his windpipe. He shifts forward to clutch Touya’s wrists, talons shrieking over the metallic one, snipping into the vulnerable skin of the left. Touya doesn’t care. In fact, Touya grins.
It clicks, it clicks, he knows what to beg for.
“Fuck, breed me,” Keigo pleads, eyebrows knitting, face contorting in ecstasy before it’s even begun. Just at the idea of it. “Breed me, Touya, please, please—”
Touya doesn’t have to be asked again. He sprawls Keigo’s legs open wider and lines up—and immediately starts fucking him. No foreplay today, he already came in his goddamn pants. Keigo’s been ready since the fucking dance floor.
They groan in tandem, shaky, soaked, spasming. Keigo slams backwards until he’s bouncing off the mattress and rocking harder onto Touya’s dick. His wings clench and then jolt open to cocoon around Touya’s back.
“Shit,” Touya half-laughs, half-grunts. Keigo’s feathers snuggle them closer, tracing his partner’s spine, his shoulders, his overheated skin. Letting Keigo see without his eyes, letting him drown in Touya. It’s so fucking good.
“More,” he implores, though he doesn’t even know how much more Touya can give him. Keigo’s going to crack, he’s going to split down the middle. His prostate aches in the best way, he’s already hard as fuck again. Every time Touya slams into him his cock slaps onto his abdomen. More might be physically impossible.
“Always been such a—whore,” Touya teases, pushing Keigo’s knees up to his chest. Thank fucking God for years of training and the flexibility of a nineteen-year-old. Is he drooling? Maybe.
“Ahh—ah! Just for you,” Keigo melts, wings fluttering again. He dispatches a few feathers, curls them over Touya’s bicep, his hip, his calf, his pec, his pulse point. The feedback loop drives him wild. Touya may not sweat with his Quirk back, but his heart still races. His body lights up with heat. Keigo, on the other hand, is definitely sweating. He feels it pooling like the magma in his gut.
Touya pounds him until he’s about to come again, and then pulls out just in time. Keigo’s about to flip him over and mount the shit out of him, when a firm, metal hand slings Keigo onto his side.
“There,” Touya explains, chest heaving. He moves back in between Keigo’s legs and spreads his asscheeks, teasing over Keigo’s rim. With his left hand, he races up Keigo’s ribs, then—fuck—buries into his down. His hand is hot, and his ring is solid and blazing.
“Best of both words, huh, baby?” Touya smiles, saccharine. Like he’s going to kill him.
So, Keigo dies.
He essentially screams when Touya replaces a fingertip with his cock again, driving into him so intensely that it’s almost mean. (Keigo loves it, obviously.) He twists his torso like they’re in a goddamn yoga class and curls his hand into a fist in Keigo’s smallest, most sensitive feathers. His right thumb mashes into Keigo’s asscheek, slips lower to play with his balls.
“Touya. Touya. Ohmygod.” Keigo huffs, fraying into nothing. Spindling into spiderwebs. His primaries crowd towards Touya’s grip, like every bit of him wants a piece of the action.
“Touya.”
Touya exhales another cloud of smoke, dipping down to get his mouth on Keigo. He pumps his hips in time with suckling Keigo’s chest, his nipple, his neck. Their lips meet in the middle but it’s awkward, more like swapping saliva, just licking over each other’s mouths at this angle. He tightens his grip, smashes his forehead into Keigo’s side.
“God, you’re pretty.” Touya says, voice like gravel. Keigo feels it more than he hears it. Feels another smattering of kisses, too, a few more nips of teeth. He hopes Touya marks him, covers him with hickies like the burn mark on his ribcage.
“So fucking pretty, Kei.”
He emphasizes it with a yank on his wing, with a particularly hard thrust of hips. His right hand smooths over Keigo’s lower stomach but he comes again before Touya can even wrap over his dick.
“Fuuuuuck,” Keigo cries, thrashing, dripping. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes and dare to spill. His feathers tense up and dance over Touya, soaking him in, egging him on, praying he’ll never stop.
And he doesn’t. Always rides it out, long and hard.
“Yeah, Kei—Fuck, come on my cock. Holy shit.” Touya urges, knocking loose a few feathers with the intensity of his hold. His right hand jerks over Keigo’s dick, shooting him into oblivion. He wants it to last forever, he never wants it to end, he wants their bodies to fuse into one fucking being, he wants the pleasure-pain to engulf him.
“Ahh, ah, ah, nnghh!”
Touya fucks him while Keigo rips the comforter to shreds. Touya fucks him while the headboard knocks a hole in the wall. Touya fucks him while Keigo’s wings sharpen and smooth and nick them both with little paper cuts. Touya fucks him while Keigo yells at him to breed him, breed him, please, breed him.
Touya fucks him until he comes too, borderline shifting into a fiery shade of sapphire, shouting Keigo’s name like it’s sacred. He floods into him and doesn’t stop, yanks Keigo’s spine into a curve, crams feathers into one palm and makes indents on his hip with the other.
Somewhere in between, they babble, “I love you.”
Keigo gets the shakes after. Like he always does. It starts before Touya even pulls out. He whimpers and clings, chirpy and untethered. His brain is goo, his body is floating in another dimension.
“Mm,” Touya hums, unlinking their bodies. His cum puddles out onto the comforter and Keigo squeaks at the sudden emptiness.
“Fuck,” Touya breathes, scattering kisses over Keigo’s arm, tracing him with his eyes. Still-hot fingers ease against Keigo’s ass, gathering Touya’s spend. And then he streaks a white stripe over Keigo’s other wing.
“Oooh,” Keigo moans, mouth going dry like the tears on his cheeks.
“Pretty,” Touya mutters, while Keigo fights another shout. His feathers throb.
His whole body throbs, honestly.
“Feel nice and well-bred, Birdie?” Touya teases, leisurely standing back to full height to admire him. His sticky palms run over every plane of Keigo he can reach, grounding him. Smoke lingers in there air, musky and dark.
Keigo can’t really remember language yet. He nods and swallows over the last notes of whatever the fuck else he was doing.
He takes a deep breath, inhaling every flavor of Touya. The bird inside him cozies up and cheers over his mate, mate, mate.
“You wanna take a shower? Five-star place like this, I bet they even have robes.”
Keigo manages a human laugh, finally, and unspools his spine from the knot it was in. He sags onto the bed and blearily attempts to sit up.
“I’ll wear a robe if you don’t leave it on the floor and disappear in the morning.” Keigo says weakly. They link their disgusting hands together and share a cliche kiss that wouldn’t have happened, all those years ago.
“Foiled my fucking plan, Birdie.” Touya jokes against his lips. “I’ll stay if you don’t put on some shitty game show.”
Keigo scoffs, “If I remember right, you put on the gameshow.”
Touya waves a hand and helps Keigo stand up on unsteady feet. They shuffle to the bathroom amidst their clothes and shreds of expensive furniture.
“You wracked up some extra charges,” Touya nods to the wrecked chaise.
“Your fault.”
There aren’t any robes, surprisingly, but the shower’s big enough for both of them, and the towels are white and fluffy. It’s not like there’s preening oil, either, but they make do with the shelf of samples of luxury beauty products. Keigo flips on a trashy reality TV show while Touya sits behind him, working to settle down every skewed, fucked-out feather.
“I did a number on you, huh?” He mutters, charging one hand with relaxing warmth as he goes. Keigo slumps into it and sighs in satisfaction.
They fall into quiet, in the dim, cozy light of the room. The TV flashes with a wheel of color but neither of them are really paying attention.
Keigo thinks of…before. A hotel room years and years ago, a bitter, sinking, sick feeling. One that swallows him whole. The agony of loss.
The blessing of a second chance. The beauty of rebuilding trust.
Keigo swishes a wing, like a wave. “Hey, Touya?”
“Hm?” His partner asks, carding carefully through red hue. They’ve done this so many times, it’s one of his favorite bonding activities.
Keigo doesn’t let himself think of the past too much. He did early on, but, it only brought him pain. Regret is sour, and it doesn’t solve anything.
“Everything from…back then is kind of a blur sometimes. But…I’m glad things turned out the way they did.” He states, turning to look at Touya. Affection rushes through his veins at his mate’s unguarded expression, his focus on each feather.
Touya’s lip turns up at the corner while he brushes over a primary.
“You’re glad we both almost died multiple times and then I went to jail for seven fucking years?”
“No!” Keigo scoffs and chuckles. “No. I just mean…Everything that happened…It brought us together, in the end. I dunno. Obviously I like things better now, I just don’t regret any of it, I guess. Maybe someday we can…be like Bakugou and Midoriya.”
“Fucking airheads?” Touya snarks, eyes glinting.
“Married, asshole.” Keigo shoots back.
“…Maybe.”
Keigo thinks the conversation’s over, because the television fills space for a while. Touya’s hands continue their duty, but he waits for Keigo to turn back around before speaking again.
“I…feel the same, Kei.” He admits. He slides up to rub circles over Keigo’s neck. “I’m glad we made it through all the bullshit to get here, too, even if it was…unpleasant, a lot of times.”
“Big understatement.”
“Tch, yeah, well.—Though, if I could bring one thing back from the past, it would be having a fucking cigarette.”
“Oh, God, me too, Hot Stuff.”
They dissolve into giggles and Keigo leans back, crashing into Touya’s chest. He catches his forearms and tugs them around himself in a hug. Keigo nuzzles right under Touya’s chin, where he fits perfectly, he’s gotta say.
“Rumi would kill me and your doctor would kill you. Besides, you make your own smoke again, it’s basically the same thing. In fact, I would like some.”
They scuff cheeks together and meet for a sleepy kiss. Ash fills Keigo’s mouth, but he craves the taste. He gulps Touya in, snuggling as close as he can.
“Okay, ugh, fine,” Keigo says when they eventually part. He watches Touya exhale until his breath runs transparent again. “We’ve risked setting off the fire alarm enough tonight, gotta open a window if we wanna keep that up.”
“You won’t be saying that when you wake up in the morning and your horny ass is ready to fuck again.” Touya teases, smooching another kiss to his jawline.
And that’s…not untrue.
Deciding they’ve preened enough for the evening, Keigo doesn’t resume their prior position. He folds his wings in tightly and worms down under the blankets, using Touya’s stomach as the perfectly-toned pillow it was designed to be.
And Touya doesn’t complain.
They don’t talk much more. The TV drones on and Keigo feels at home in their mingled scent. In the proximity of his partner, in the afterglow of incredible sex, as usual. He lets his tired eyes droop closed and lets Touya’s heartbeat be his lullaby.
Maybe he falls asleep. Maybe he goes to that place between asleep and awake, to dreamland. Their life feels like a good dream sometimes, especially on days like this. Eons from what it used to be.
“Keigo.” Touya calls delicately, like he doesn’t want to startle him.
“Mm. Huh?” Keigo yawns, pulled back to consciousness. He blinks up at Touya, at his blue, blue eyes.
And Touya won’t meet his eyes, but they shine nonetheless.
“I’ve been thinking about something…” He clears his throat. “When I get my degree, eventually…I’d like to have my name on it as Takami Touya. Is that okay?”
What.
Wait, what? Is he actually awake? Is this a dream?
Keigo sits up in surprise, fumbling with the comforter, almost popping Touya in the face with his wing. His partner is unfazed, so used to it by now.
“Are you serious?” Keigo asks stupidly.
Because that’s like.
A big fucking deal.
“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t, Birdie.” Touya says in earnest, sweeping Keigo’s hair behind his ear.
“Like—like you wanna change your name? To my name?”
Touya finally looks him in the eye, but then rolls his own. He grins and flicks Keigo in the forehead.
“Am I speaking fucking French? Yes, Keigo.”
Keigo inhales, but it’s all broken and shuddering. Emotions blast through him, ones he doesn’t even know the names of.
They’re in love, he remembers thinking, in a crummy little shack, and now they’re even more.
“Absolutely it’s okay. I—I—yeah. It’s more than okay. Like, you don’t have to, uh, wait that long, y’know? You could totally do it sooner. Than that.” He explains, twisting to fully face his mate. His mate who’s smiling, sly like a fox.
“Oh, can I?” Touya flirts. His hand still rests loosely on Keigo’s neck. He can probably feel his pulse hammering.
“Yeah. Like. Fuck, tomorrow, even?”
“Right. I guess I could do that, couldn’t I?”
“Definitely.”
“Kei?”
“Yeah?”
“You know you’re hovering right now?”
Keigo laughs and stills his wings almost comically, flopping back onto the bed beside Touya. He crowds him, grabs his shoulders with tiny talons.
“Sorry, I’m—”
“Excited?”
Keigo nods, blooming with joy. His feathers ruffle and his chest sings, and his thoughts race at every possibility.
A future with Touya. One they never thought they could have, taking shape with such simplicity.
Hawks and Dabi, who ever imagined, huh?
Keigo can’t hold back a chirp.
“I can practically see your heart exploding from your chest, Birdie, c’mere.”
Touya folds him back into his arms and Keigo’s wings canopy over them once more.
“Shut up. I’m…happy.” Keigo grins like an idiot. “Fuck, Touya, I’m really happy you asked.”
“Yeah.” Touya steadily radiates his Quirk, enveloping them in warmth. “Me too.”
“Can we celebrate?”
“Pfft, celebrate how? You want a confetti canon or something?”
“Umm…drinks? I’ll take you out and buy you a drink.—Dirty martini with extra olives! Just for you, Mr. Takami.” Keigo’s eyes boggle out of his head after he says it.
“Jesus, that’s hot.” He swoons. “Takami Touya. Seriously, wait, that’s so hot. Fuck.”
“God. That’s—going to take getting used to…But I do like it.” Touya shakes his head and snickers. Like music, it reverberates through both of them.
A unit, a pair, mates, birds of a feather, partners, best friends, husbands, lovers, after all they’ve been through. Next time that turned into every time. A mistake that never was. A cigarette tossed into the snow.
Thank fucking God his lighter went out.
Touya presses a kiss into Keigo’s hair in a swanky hotel room, and he falls even more in love.
“Sure, Birdie,” Touya laughs, “for old time’s sake. You can buy me a dirty martini.”