Work Text:
The Things We Do In the Dark
Prelude
He watched the black-haired bastard from his perch on the roof. Asshole liked things rough and dirty. Thought he was hot shit, stomping around in those heavy soled boots like he owned the fucking world. Prickly and quick to anger, but that was expected, he supposed. Arrogant, of course. He had a tendency to simply take what he wanted, either relying on fear or a rough-edged skill to keep his various conquests compliant and obedient. He was far from gentle. That was clear even from a distance. But he didn’t leave the partners he discarded broken. A little bruised, sure, but Hawks could work with that.
The feather on the window ledge above where Dabi currently had a pretty-enough girl on her knees picked up his gravel-touched voice, forced almost a full octave deeper by his arousal. He had a hell of a filthy mouth on him.
Hawks ignored the twinge in his guts that told him he was maybe looking forward to this, just a little.
"Come on, baby. You can take it, can’t you?"
This was the job.
"That’s right. Such a good little toy. Just like that."
And he was good at the job.
Dabi moaned, low and full of smoke. Shit.
He had all the data he needed. Hawks could leave. Should leave.
He didn’t. Who said research was boring?
He’d laid the groundwork, a few borderline subversive comments leaked to the tabloids. A grainy photo of him supposedly high off his ass at a party with all the wrong people. An interview where he criticized the hero system and then charmingly backpedaled.
No offense. He just meant…
Sure. Fine.
He was young. People made allowances. But his handlers had been monitoring social media and unofficial ratings data, and he was trending in exactly the arenas he needed to be. Young. Potentially disillusioned. Powerful and potentially chaffing in Endeavor’s shadow. Or the limits imposed by the HPSC.
Perfect.
He watched as Dabi lit a cigarette from a flame at his fingertip. Emo fucker.
The blue flame seemed to dance next to the red cherry. It really was beautiful. Which was not relevant at all.
He passed the cigarette to the woman who had been sucking his dick moments ago. She took a drag, blew the smoke toward him. He laughed.
Their banter was tired, typical. When the cigarette burned down to the butt, he tossed it into a grimy puddle and stood from his slouch against the wall.
Hawks waited until the area was clear before heading off in the opposite direction. Dabi prowled this area, usually looking to hook up every three or four days. He’d been dropping the occasional bent or broken feather into the muck, grinding them beneath his own boots and kicking them into filthy corners for weeks.
They were synthetic. Useless for surveillance. A trade off that allowed him to avoid having to feel that alleyway. But someone observant would note the occasional flash of dirty red. Eye catching. Dabi was observant. And the feathers established his presence significantly better than any kind of contrived meeting.
He made sure he was photographed leaving a club not far from Dabi’s hunting grounds the next night. It had been easier to take the girl home with him than come up with a plausible excuse not to. He’d made sure she had a good time. It was fine.
He snorted in amusement as he readied himself for the second part of his infiltration.
His primary handler hated the plan. Nagasi been vetoed by the powers that be, which was for the best because Hawks had every intention of following it anyway.
The HPSC prided themselves on knowing everything. Which was somehow both disturbingly true and laughably incorrect. Thank god Hawks’s instructors had been emphatic about him being responsible for his own reconnaissance. Because some bean counter had looked at the situation at hand, decided that it made sense to infiltrate the League specifically rather than the PLF generally, which logically was true. Two birds, one stone and all that. But that same idiot bean counter had read all the shiny, carefully redacted dossiers and decided Hawks’s mark would be Mr. Compress.
It made a degree of sense, he supposed. Compress was visible but not vital. He was dramatic, easy to flatter and desperate to be the center of attention. Especially the attention of people he deemed important. Hawks was flashy, pretty, and important enough to be a feather in the magician’s cap. Pun absolutely intended. Except for one teeny, tiny detail. Minor thing really. Atsuhiro Sako was, honestly surprisingly, straight. As the proverbial pin.
Hawks hit on him, just to be sure. A job was a job. But the man was so busy staring drunkenly at an admittedly fantastic set of tits that he didn’t even notice.
Good thing Hawks had no ego on the line in this. Compress wasn’t an option. Pivot and move forward. Mind on the mission. No worries at all.
He didn’t bother to report in, just looked at the options available.
Toga was too young. Shigaraki was both entirely too touch adverse and off on some training retreat that made him an impractical mark. Time being of the essence and all that. He wasn't opposed to Spinner, but the lizard only had eyes for his boss.
Twice was a nonstarter. The man was too unstable to consent. And while Hawks was well aware that he was a lying, manipulative, monster that was going to honey pot his way into the good graces of a domestic terrorist organization, he had to draw the line somewhere. So no.
His handlers had warned him away from Dabi. Dabi’s flames were a particularly bad quirk match should things go south. And he was a volatile sociopath with a kill count in the double digits. He was unpredictable and had an axe to grind with Endeavor and anybody associated with him. Which Hawks was. He was flagged as a no-go by the people in charge.
Hawks even considered listening for all of ten minutes for all of the very valid reasons that were in the file that no longer existed. Spinner would be a fine point of contact for an information sale. He even had a false hero to sell out primed.
But the kind of person that would sell out an ally for nothing more than cash was always going to fight an uphill battle to gain trust.
Sex was easier.
And Dabi was…Dabi. Violent. Sadistic. Sarcastic. And hot as hell.
Just because he was on assignment didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.
˚₊‧꒰ა 🔥 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
I-Contact.
Hawks chose his mark carefully. He understood all about acceptable loss and the greater good, but he wasn’t a cold blooded killer. Not that he wasn't a killer. He was. Duty was duty, after all. He didn't quibble about necessity. It was just not necessary as often as some people liked to think. He had standards was all he was saying.
He still believed in shit like the public good and protecting innocents.
Shocking, really. But there it was.
For better or worse, Hawks was a fucking hero.
He was also a hero with a job to do. And villains always loved it when they thought they had something on you. It not only gave them a fun sense of smug moral superiority, it let them believe they had an ace up their sleeve in the form of some juicy blackmail material. Dabi was definitely the sort to enjoy both aspects of catching a hero with his pants down.
So to speak.
He selected an abuser that went by Purge, a real nasty piece of work that preyed on young people with heteromorphic traits. Should have been fully classed as a villain by now. But sex workers and heteromorphs didn't merit that kind of concern. Or something. Fucker nearly killed a seventeen year old boy with fox ears and three tails for being an abomination. After he got what he wanted, obviously.
Hawks let him get away with beating another boy with goat legs and delicate, curving horns.
It would have been so easy to intervene. But he couldn't. He had an image to tarnish.
He might be good at the job, but sometimes the damned job sucked.
He didn’t do anything but witness and report the violence turned on a kid that couldn’t have been more than sixteen. It turned his stomach, but he’d pay for the kid to have his horns surgically repaired. Anonymously, of course. Make sure he got some sort of housing allowance too.
There weren’t enough reputable half-way houses that accepted heteromorphs.
But that wasn’t Hawks’s job. Purge was. Tangentially.
Letting him get away with a crime gave him room to demand favors. The asshole made some nasty comments about racial purity before asking if he could jack off against Hawks’s wings. Gross. Of course he agreed. He could smell brimstone on the air, singed hair and hot leather and the acrid scent of burning paper.
Show time.
Hawks spread his wings against the wall behind him and dropped his pants, thanking a quick metabolism and the advantage of being twenty three for being able to get hard fast enough to look interested. “Come on Purge, you know you want to choke on hero cock, right? Before you mess up my pretty, sensitive, famous wings.”
Hawks played up the shriek of the bird of prey in his tone as he moaned. Performative but not theatrical. Faking it. Semi-convincingly at best. Hopefully it was obvious to Dabi that Hawks wasn’t a very good actor when it came to pleasure.
There was no guarantee he’d be good at it, after all.
Hawks imagined the way the staples on Dabi's chin and cheeks would feel brushing over his thighs and shivered for real. Purge grinned around him, pulling back to growl, “You like that, huh, you filthy animal?”
Hawks chuckled, let his eyes glance past Dabi in the shadows. Then called two feathers from his wings, dramatically crossing them and nearly severing Purge’s head.
Blood, hot and disgusting splashed across his thighs. He didn’t react. “Not particularly, fucker.” He kicked the body away, not letting his eyes rest on the way his head fell at an awkward angle.
Dabi laughed, stepping out of the shadows. He clapped, seemingly delighted. The once over he gave Hawks burned. His eyes fell on Hawks’s cock with clear interest. He licked scarred lips.
Got him.
“Well, well, well. If it isn't the Commission’s pretty little pigeon slumming it down here with the rest of us trash. And with your pants literally around your ankles. My my.” He stepped closer, ran his finger through the droplets beading on Hawks’s abs. He wiped the sticky mess on Hawks's jacket leaving a smear of red.
“Fuck off villain.” Wet, bloody feathers were harder to maneuver, but the gore made an impression as the two murder weapons bobbed up to press into Dabi’s throat.
Come on, take the bait.
The danger of Dabi’s too-hot hands so close to his junk at least kept his dick interested in the tableau. Being into danger might be fucked up, but it was also handy as hell.
Dabi laughed in evident delight before incinerating the feathers with a swipe of his left hand. Interesting. Was he left handed? “You seem to have a little problem, hero.” Dabi eyed his cock, hand hovering but not making contact. “Or maybe a not-so-little problem.” He raised an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”
Hawks licked his lips, let his eyes flicker between Dabi’s face and his hand before letting his eyes settle on the gruesome body slumped a few feet away.
Dabi laughed. “Audience a problem for you Pretty Bird?” Another flash of light and heat, intense enough to ache against his bare skin. “Better?”
“F-fuu--”
“Come on, Birdy. This,” Dabi wrapped his fingers around Hawks’s still-hard cock, “Says you like what’s happening here. What do you say?”
Hawks glared, rocking his hips just a little, as if he were unconsciously giving into an insatiable impulse. “I don’t--”
“Really?” Dabi ran his thumb over the tip of Hawks’s dick, gathering pearly fluid and lifting it to his lips. He flicked his tongue out, lapping like a kitten with a bowl of cream. “You’re delicious, you know.”
Hawks hated the line. Did he think this was original? And yet, Dabi laughed in delight as Hawks’s cock jumped in his hand.
“Oh Birdy, no need to lie. I won’t tell anybody.”
Hawks opened his mouth, ostensibly to argue. Dabi shoved his thumb in before he could speak, pressing on his tongue, forcing his jaw open.
Hawks didn’t have to fake the moan. Holy shit. Dabi’s hand began to pump him in earnest, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet alley.. “Tell me you want it, Pretty Bird. Tell me you like it, and I’ll make it feel good.”
Hawks yanked his head away. “Fuck you.” He bucked his hips forward, chasing very real pleasure. Letting himself seem desperate. Overwhelmed.
“That’s the idea, yeah.”
Shit. He was actually getting close. He forced himself to note the crackle of flame, the smell of burning meat and scummy puddles, wrenching himself away from the edge.
Dabi’s hands were so warm.
He held eye contact with the villain for a calculatedly uncomfortable amount of time before giving in, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a filthy kiss. He bit at his lips, letting Dabi fight for and eventually win dominance while he scrabbled at Dabi’s heavy belt buckle. Sighing into the kiss as he managed to get his hands into his tight leather pants.
Dabi groaned into his mouth, speeding up his hand as he bit Hawks’s neck, just below his ear. “That’s right, Pretty Bird. Let yourself go. Let yourself be bad for once.” He sucked at the skin harshly, painfully. Perfectly. “Stroke it nice and slow. Don’t worry about the talons.” Dabi ground into him. “I like it just a little… animalistic. Ungh… A little rough.”
Hawks loosened his grip with a laugh, curling his fingers so that his talons scraped along Dabi’s leaking cock, pressing hard enough to hurt but not quite hard enough to break the skin. He hummed his amusement as Dabi swore, catching at the row of heavy piercings and tugging roughly. He wished he could see it.
Dabi tightened his grip in return.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Hawks gasped. His focus was slipping.
“Oh Yes, Pretty Bird. Sing for me.” Dabi’s teeth stung along his neck.
Time to take back control. He gripped Dabi’s shaft harshly, stroking hard and fast. He dropped his head, running his tongue along the seam between scarred and unscarred skin at his collar bone, grazing his teeth against the staples. He tasted blood, bit down harder. “Fuck, Birdy, just like that. Just like that.”
Hawks gave up even pretending he was trying to hold onto control, thrusting frantically into Dabi's hand as Dabi groaned out a potent mixture of filthy promises and heady praise.
“You’d better cum for me, Pigeon. Because if you don’t finish before me, I will leave you in this dirty, disgusting alley with a rock hard cock and no relief.”
Hawks had to force a deep breath to stop his body from locking up immediately. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, grinding forward.
“Try me.” Dabi groaned, panting heavily against his neck. “You’d better start singing, Birdy.”
Dabi grabbed his hair, yanking him forward and spinning him, slamming Hawks against the wall and rutting up against his ass. “Now, pretty boy. Cum for me now.” Dabi groaned, his cock twitching as he rocked against him, piercings rubbing against his thighs. “While I---hmmmm!--while I make a mess of you.”
Hawks squeezed his thighs together, ignoring the way his legs shook as Dabi sped up. “Fuck you feel good, Pretty Bird.”
Dabi jerked against him. Hawks felt the liquid heat spread over him coating his cock and balls, felt Dabi bite into the back of his neck and let himself shout out his own orgasm.
He was still panting, his forehead pressed against the rough, dirty bricks when Dabi stepped away. He tracked him with his feathers as he pulled his pants back into place, not-quite feigning fucked out stupidity. “Good job, Birdy.” Dabi slapped his ass before pulling up his pants without bothering to wipe away the mess. “See ya around.”
˚₊‧꒰ა 🔥 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
II-Bait
Hawks woke up hard. Again. Dreams of cruel fingers and rough handling and smoke-scented words heating his skin and leaving him frustrated and panting. He spent five full minutes willing his body to behave before he gave up and took himself in hand. No sense being awkwardly uncomfortable when he didn’t need to be.
He had shit to do. And if he was going to play his role of pent-up playboy that meant that he couldn’t just go pick somebody up to work off steam. He was honest enough, at least inside the confines of his own mind, to admit that he fantasized about the feeling of teeth at his neck and fingers yanking at his feathers and heavy piercings rubbing against his sack.
It didn’t take long.
He took a shower before hopping on a message board under an obvious pseudonym and pointing out that Endeavor was a piece of fucking trash who would never be worth even a third of All Might. He read it over before going back and adding a spelling error.
Hawks was fast. He was handsome. He was an excellent fighter and he endorsed cologne and fancy liquor and his own brand of compression gear. He wasn’t overly bright. Sometimes it was exhausting, but being underestimated and being the number two hero at the same time was a balancing act. It helped when people believed he was a little dumb.
Dabi was smart. Which was a problem, really. He had to be careful.
It would have been nice if Compress had been into dick. He was much easier to manipulate.
Oh well.
Hawks had been in touch with Dabi a few times since their encounter in the alley. They’d flirted. And threatened. Made out hot and heavy in locations that were tricky to make sure they were interrupted at frustratingly inopportune moments. Stupidly competent villain.
Hawks had actually had to intervene to keep him from lashing out at Twice.
His feathers told him that Dabi may have stalked away angrily, but he had also locked himself in the closest bathroom and jerked off, coming quickly with a string of curses and a groaned out Pretty Bird.
It meant his plan was working, but that hadn’t done much to help the tent in his own damned pants.
Another reason for tight compression gear. His brand really was the best.
Now that he knew that Dabi was every bit as frustrated as he was, it was time to reel him in.
Hawks upped his flirtatious comments, letting his eyes linger and quirking his lips into teasing smiles.
“Hey there, hot stuff. You seem… frustrated.” He grinned. “Anything I can help with before I go?”
“Haha, Birdy. I’m fine.”
Hawks looked him up and down, focusing his gaze on Dabi’s groin and smiling as he saw a tell-tale twitch. “Sure are,” He drawled. He held his breath, letting his cheeks flush before looking away.
“Don’t you have to report to your keepers, you damned pigeon?”
Hawks sighed dramatically. “Sadly yes.”
Dabi glared at him. “Tell me again about how you don’t buy into this hero bullshit.”
“I’d be a pretty shitty double agent if I don’t play my part, ya know. Gotta stay useful right?” He glanced pointedly at Dabi’s groin again. “I mean how else am I supposed to earn my keep?”
He laughed as Dabi snarled, “Get the fuck out.”
Hawks had this mark picked out for over a week. She was a prostitute with ambitions of being a high class escort. Well known in certain circles and fairly popular. She regularly propositioned lower-level heroes with offers of some no-strings-attached fun. And she specialized in temperature play. She could heat or cool her hands at will.
He loosened the heavy planter, using a feather to upset its precarious balance and send it crashing down toward her. He then, of course, swept her up dramatically into his arms in a camera-perfect save that was caught by no less than twenty people with cell phones.
Hawks waved with a practiced smile, swooping through the air to make the girl cling to him. “Don’t forget to @ me! @HeroHawks! #Myhero!” He smiled and waved before flying off into the proverbial sunset. Which in this case was a rooftop terrace that would be a cafe in another few weeks. Right now it was deserted. And had easy to access via a fire escape that looked more rickety than it was.
“Are you ok?” He asked. He knew she was, but especially since he was the one who had endangered her, he figured he should double check.
“Oh! Oh yes!” She giggled. He watched her notice where they were and realize who he was. Her voice shifted, just a little more calculating. “How can I ever repay you?” She batted her eyes.
“Well, shucks. I was just doing my job, miss. All part of the service.” He smiled, the Hero Hawks at his most charming.
The hardest part wasn’t implying he’d be happy to accept a blow job, it was slowing down her enthusiasm so that Dabi had time to get there.
She was happy to heat her hands, stroke them through his wings with a charming smile before working her hand inside his pants. The heat was delicious.
And it had been a while.
And evidently this girl was good at her damned job. Dabi better hurry the fuck up.
Speak of the devil. “Why my pretty bird, we simply have to stop meeting like this.” His flames curled around his fingers, dancing along the scars on the backs of his hands and making the staples sparkle. “Whatever would the press say?”
That a man deserves some action as a reward for hard work from time to time?
But that comment wasn’t in character--for either of the characters he was currently playing. “Go away, Dabi.”
The girl flinched at his name. Good. She wasn’t stupid.
“No. I don’t think I will, hero.” He was glaring at Hawks’s poor mark with genuine malice. “You,” he snapped. “Say good-bye and get out if you want to live to brag.”
“Hang on one minute--”
“No.” He grabbed the girl, yanking her away and shoving her to the side. Hawks had to send feathers to catch her when she stumbled.
“Dabi! You can’t just toss civilians aside like they’re nothing!” He even meant it, though he’d excuse it if he wanted to replace the poor girl’s hand with his own. Those flames were mesmerizing. He didn’t take his eyes off the villain stalking toward him, but he did use his feathers to nudge the girl toward the fire escape and relative safety.
“I think you’ll find that I can, Pretty Bird.”
His hands were still burning as he reached toward Hawks, extinguishing them mere seconds before he made contact with his very sensitive, very flammable wings, grabbing and yanking with a sadistic grin. Hawks didn’t have to fake the way his whole body jolted. Nor the moan that ripped from his lips without his bidding.
“What the f-fuck?”
Dabi’s hand heated, burning against sensitive barbs as it slid to Hawks’s throat, searing fingerprints into the flesh. “You like it hot, my pretty bird?”
His other hand was already undoing his buckles, shoving his pants out of the way. His pierced cock looked menacing.
Ha hot! Dabi’s hand heated even further, steam rising from the seam across the back. “If you want to play with fire, you really should play with somebody with the power to burn.”
Hawks tore himself out of Dabi’s grasp, ignoring the feeling of loss as cool air hit the aching marks on his neck.
Dabi is prey he told himself, firmly, deliberately fluffing his feathers and ruffling his wings. He let his raptor gaze take in Dabi’s cock, hot and hard against his belly, felt his vision sharpen as his eyes pinned, focused on his prize.
“Shit, Birdy, you look ready to eat me alive,” Dabi huffed out. His voice sounded pleased. Nervous. His cock twitched enticingly.
Hawks licked his lips before using his superior speed to grab Dabi’s hips and guide him backward and into the mostly finished bar, pleased when his back bent slightly, forcing his hips forward. “Is this as hot as the rest of you? I’ve been wondering.”
Hawks thought about aiming for charming, flirtatious, but Dabi was clearly into the idea of being stalked by a predator.
“Why don’t you find out, Pretty Bird.” He grabbed at Hawks’s hand, clearly planning to pull it where he wanted it.
Hawks slapped him away, eyes never moving. “I think I will.” He used both hands to anchor Dabi’s hips in place and folded gracefully to his knees, wings slowing the movement and incidentally buffeting Dabi with a sudden gust of cold air. He deliberately slowed down, licking up the underside of Dabi’s cock and taking his time exploring each heavy metal bar before lapping at the tip, reveling in the bitter-salt taste of him. “MMMmmm. You are hot.” He pulled off with a cocky grin. “Not as hot as me though.” He winked.
Hawks was very very glad that birds of prey had no gag reflex. His mouth fell open without his express consent. He relaxed his jaw and took Dabi all the way into his throat in a single, smooth motion while the asshole was still stuttering out a faux-offended response.
Hawks preened a little as Dabi shouted out in wordless pleasure, hands flying to grab at Hawks’s hair.
Dabi pulled hard, a little too hard. It stung. The tingle from the abused roots skittering down Hawks’s spine and adding to the heat low in his belly. He swallowed deliberately, once. Twice. Before pulling back and looking up Dabi’s body to meet his eyes.
His arousal blown, glowing blue eyes.
Shit this was a nice view.
Focus Hawks.
“Don’t be gentle, yeah? I’m a big boy.” He pulled one of Dabi’s hands to grip his delicate wing. “Fuck my face.”
He dove back in, happy to go where Dabi dragged him. He licked and nipped and sucked, swallowing every time Dabi hit his soft palate and humming his pleasure as his--the, as the firebrand bucked into his mouth with wild abandon.
Hawks would tell himself later that it was calculated, a way to keep a dangerous mark off balance. He would even pretend to believe it. But it was simple impulse, a desire to touch more, feel more that had him sucking a finger into his mouth and teasing behind Dabi’s balls.
He’d never seen Dabi in any role but bitchy and dom, but even asshole bullies had prostates. And Hawks suddenly needed to know what kinds of noises his little fire bug would make when he found his.
Dabi seemed happy enough to let him caress and tease but pulled away when the tip of Hawks’s finger breached him. God he was tight. And hot. So fucking hot.
“Wha--”
“Relax for me, Hot Stuff.” Hawks watched him actually consider it. Just as he was clearly about to decide not to, he pressed his finger in the rest of the way, rough but still careful.
Talons were dangerous. He sucked on the head of Dabi’s dick, eyes challenging him to pull away as he stroked at his insides, searching.
“Fuuuck.” Found it!
“Feel good, Dabi?” He prodded again, watching fire flicker over Dabi’s body, smelled his own hair singeing.
“Hunngh!” Dabi bucked his hips, catching Hawks by surprise, making him choke. “Wha--”
Something primal rose at that sudden, shocking invasion. Hawks knew he was on assignment, knew that introducing Dabi to something both new and clearly pleasurable would make him easier to lead around by the balls. That was his damned plan, after all.
He knew. Of course he knew.
He just didn’t fucking care.
“I thought you didn’t do gentle, Dabi. I told you to fuck my face. And I can still talk, so you’re not keeping up your end of the bargain.”
Dabi’s growl was like music.
Tears leaked from Hawks’s eyes as Dabi held him in place, thrusting wildly into his throat.
“Touch your own dick, Pigeon. I want you moaning like a whore. I want you writhing like a fish on a fucking hook. I want--Ha! I want to fucking feel it when you lose control.”
And well, who was Hawks to argue with that?
He didn’t bother with buckles or any kind of show, just shoved his pants out of the way and gripped his cock like his life depended on it.
Dabi’s movements were erratic, harsh. Hawks was in real danger of hurting him if he didn’t get his finger with its clawed tip out of his ass. Instead he shoved in a second, shuddering at his shout.
He wanted to feel Dabi lose it. He wanted to fucking taste it.
His mind was getting hazy, his own wrist moving without him deciding to move it, stroking his cock in hard, harsh yanks.
“Fuck, Pretty Bird, you feel--”
Hawks moaned around him, long and lewd.
“Shit, Shit, Fuck!” He felt Dabi quiver, felt his hips lock, his thighs tense. He pulsed down Hawks’s throat, hot and bitter and perfect. His ass clenched so tightly around Hawks’s fingers it almost hurt. And the mental flash of what that would feel like around his cock was enough to shove Hawks over the edge as well.
He didn’t stop sucking and swallowing until the aftershocks of his own orgasm ebbed and he processed Dabi above him whimpering in painful overstimulation. Whimpering but not pulling away.
He looked incredible like this, panting and already twitching with almost unwilling interest between Hawks’s lips.
Shit.
He pulled away. “We should go.” Fuck, his voice was wrecked. He ignored a jolt of tingling energy at the thought of why. “Press will be looking to catch the, ha, the battle.”
“Wanna find a place to finish what we started?” He sounded nonchalant. Almost. His legs were still shaking.
He should say no. He needed to say no. Dabi was interested but far from addicted. And Hawks had no idea if condoms would stand up to his incredible heat.
Hawks wasn’t, quite, stupid enough to take a slutty villain with a death wish raw.
“Can’t.” He shrugged. A few of his feathers were discolored, dark with smoke. “Gotta check in.”
Gotta get himself together and remember that pleasure came second to duty.
He used his wings to raise himself to Dabi’s height, grabbing him and kissing him harshly, trying not to notice the way his dick responded to the rough handling. Or the way Dabi moaned at taste of himself on Hawks’s lips. “Next time, Fire Bug.”
Fire Bug? Out loud? Shit. He needed to get out of here.
“Later, Dabi.”
And he took off while he still had the willpower to do so.
˚₊‧꒰ა 🔥 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
III-Switch
The first time he let Dabi fuck him it had been in ‘celebration’ of a victory. A defeat for Hawks’s side, sure, but he had a cover to maintain. And liquor was flowing and Dabi’s laugh was rubbing along his nerves like velvet. Dabi had pressed a sugar cube to his lips. “I’ll show you a whole new way to fly, Pretty Bird.”
And it wasn’t like he didn’t know he was being drugged. It was pretty obvious. And his metabolism burned through just about everything fast enough that it didn’t really matter.
Whatever it was hit like a ton of bricks. He was hot, almost unbearably so. And his skin was so sensitive that even the slightest touch sent shivers up and down his spine. His own feathers vibrated with a million sensations as Dabi laughed and ran his fingers through them. The world was spinning, and those hands were exquisite, running over hyper-sensitive spines and stroking through fluff that felt alive with a fuzzy static that bordered on too much without ever pushing over.
The world looked rosy and Hawks felt safe. Happy. He loved everything. Everybody.
He loved Dabi’s fingers and he really wanted to worship Dabi’s fucking cock.
He didn’t mean to say that part out loud, but Dabi had only laughed. “You’re really flying, aren’t you, my beautiful birdy?”
“‘M not yours,” Hawks slurred.
“Oh really?” Those wonderful fingers felt amazing yanking his head back. He could cum just from the pressure Dabi’s other hand put on the base of his wings. “I think you’re wrong, Pigeon.”
“Why d’you call me that? Pigeons are just flying rats.”
“Because I know you’re slumming it with us.” Dabi palmed his dick through too hot, too tight pants. “Just another street rat, too clever for his own good and creeping into places he doesn’t belong.”
Hawks didn’t want to argue. He wanted Dabi to get him out of these stupid pants.
Dabi laughed again. “Whatever you say, Pretty Bird.”
Shit. The beginnings of clarity were flickering at the edges of Hawks’s drug soaked mind. He needed to pull away, sober up. He was not in control of anything right now. Not his mouth and certainly not his oversensitive body.
And he would. Definitely. As soon as he was done letting Dabi suck on his tongue.
Hawks lost time. He knew he did. He knew he’d care. Later.
But for now his mind was only taking snapshots of coherence in a maelstrom of sensation.
Hot breath ghosting along his wings, the feel of blood as the feathers sharpened at the sensation and Dabi didn’t pull his lips away.
“You gonna cut me up, Pretty Bird? Make me bleed for you? You can. I’ll let you.”
Staples scraping over his thighs, his balls, tiny points of electric heat scraping along his cock as burning hands guided him to rut against them.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, leaking and desperate. Look at you treating my thigh like a carnival ride. I’ll have you riding something else soon enough,”
The wall was cool against his cheek but rough against his abused nipples. He’d find bite marks all over his chest the next day, but in the moment he didn’t know why he was so sore. Didn’t care. The pleasure-pain burn was perfect. Dabi’s sharp teeth sinking into his ass cheek was a hell of a distraction.
He knew he cried out, felt the way his balls pulled up tight. He almost sobbed when Dabi wrapped long, scarred fingers around him, painfully tight.
“Ah ah ah! Not until I tell you, Birdy. You’re mine. That means you cum when I tell you and not before.”
It didn’t work. The second Dabi released the pressure he was gone, marking up the wall and shrieking his pleasure.
It didn’t even slow Dabi down.
He brought a burning hot hand down onto his ass in a stinging series of heavy slaps that Hawks could only moan through. The drug in his system made each impact seem to sparkle at the edge of his consciousness.
He didn’t know how long it lasted. He only knew that he was hard again, somehow even more desperate when Dabi yanked his cheeks apart and licked him from his balls to his tailbone.
“You’ll learn to behave, my Pretty Bird.”
I haven’t so far, he thought. He didn’t know if he said it out loud. Maybe he did.
It didn’t matter. The next time his mind managed to grab onto a piece of reality it was the feeling of Dabi pressing into him slowly. Tortuously.
“Take it, Birdy. Take it all.”
Gladly.
The pace he set was brutal.
The drug cleared his system, but Hawks was no less intoxicated, reduced to a mewling mess barely capable of speech as piercings caught at his rim and Dabi’s too hot hand reached around to tease him.
“Like that, Birdy?”
“Yes. Fuck! Yes!”
He’d been shocked to wake up a few hours later, clear headed but thirsty and with a pounding headache. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Maybe he’d passed out when he came. It seemed possible.
His nipples were chaffed raw. His chest a mass of bruises and teeth marks. There were handprints burned onto his hips and ribs. And he was covered in cum and sweat and fluffy down that had been yanked from his wings.
His ass hurt like hell.
He hadn’t felt that good in years.
That was three weeks ago. Since then, the heroes had rallied, were creating all sorts of chaos for the villains. And Hawks was hard pressed not to fall onto Dabi’s cock at every provocation.
He’d given in a few times. Ok, more than a few. But not every time. He shouldn’t have given it up at the party. Strategically it was too soon. He had to hold something in reserve. He had to--
But he couldn’t afford for Dabi to lose interest now, right? He needed to keep him wanting more. Dabi was always more easily led when his balls were empty. And well…
Hawks was a healthy young man.
Who just happened to enjoy certain aspects of his job.
Like choking on a certain heavy, pierced cock.
Whatever, The HPSC was getting the information they wanted. Or most of it anyway. The areas of the PLF compound that made the best places to sneak off for a quickie also happened to be the areas where people tended to talk about more sensitive things.
He missed some things, sure. Dabi was distracting. And at least once he’d heard an annoyed Trumpet bitching about certain fire starters getting a room.
They’d laughed about it hard enough to almost ruin the mood.
Almost.
But distracted or not, he also managed to leave behind a few feathers in less obvious corners. And the guards were getting used to seeing him in corridors where he absolutely didn’t have permission to be.
So really it was a win-win.
This time, though. This time was different. This time they were in Dabi’s room. This time Dabi was chest down and ass up as Hawks thrust three fingers into him slowly.
This time Dabi was covered in sweat, hips chasing sensation as Hawks pulled back.
And it was fucking hypnotic.
“Ha! Fuck, Birdy get on with it, will you?”
Hawks pulled his fingers all the way out, replaced his hand with his mouth. “Nope.” He blew against Dabi, watched the oil glisten in the light from the nightstand as his whole body twitched. “Be patient.”
“I am not a patient man.”
Hawks laughed. “Then you shouldn’t make bets you aren’t sure to win.”
“It was a safe--ummpff--a safe bet. There was no way for the heroes to know--”
“Evidently not, Fire Bug.” He sucked at his tender flesh for a moment. “Because here you are.”
The heroes knew because Hawks told them. But implying there was a leak in the PLF was easy. Hawks wasn’t the only hero here, after all. And betting against Dabi was way too fucking obvious to be real. It was a convoluted mind game that would only work on somebody as twisted as Hawks. Or Dabi.
Nevertheless, suspicion was diverted, and he was going to enjoy his spoils. He looked at Dabi’s cock hanging heavy between his thighs.
Hawks gave him a few strokes with an oil slick hand before murmuring, “Ready?”
“That’s what I’ve been--hnngh--That’s what I’ve been saying!”
“Good.” He’d spent over an hour prepping him. Now he didn’t hesitate, just took him in one hard, harsh thrust.
“Fucking Hell!” Dabi shouted, but Hawks only laughed.
He wouldn’t last long, but it hardly mattered. Even if Dabi finished down his throat or in his own ass, he’d still have this.
He used his feathers to caress Dabi’s chest, to tickle over his dick, tease at his legs.
He was shaking, his arms seeming to have trouble holding his weight. “Feel good, Hot Stuff?”
“Jesus--Yes. Yes it feels good you fucking-- Fucking Pigeon.”
“Language, Fire Bug.” Hawks dragged him up onto his knees, wrapped an arm around his chest. “Touch yourself for me.”
Dabi turned his head, nipped at Hawks’s bicep. “No.” His hands twitched but he didn’t reach for himself. “You wanted to top, you do it.”
“As you wish, Brat.” He reached down, teasing. “Beg.”
“Fuck you.”
Hawks absolutely knew this was going to come back to bite him. Probably in multiple ways. He did it anyway. He stopped moving, froze in place with his hand on Dabi’s cock and his dick in his ass, ignoring the way he clenched and tried to move. “I said beg, Fire Bug.”
“I don’t think so.” Dabi tried to rock his hips back.
Hawks used his feathers to hold him in place. “Just a little. Just one,” a tiny rock, “teeny,” a single stroke, “please.” Hawks kissed his temple, nipped his ear. “You can do it. I know you can.”
He could feel the way Dabi’s cock jumped, the way his muscles strained trying to take control.
He could call his fire. Hawks knew it. He knew Dabi knew it. But he didn’t.
Hawks knew he wouldn’t.
“Fuck. Fine! Please Birdy. Get me off before I lose my fucking mind.”
“As you wish,” Hawks whispered.
He didn’t hear a word that was said in the office where his feather rested behind a bookshelf.
˚₊‧ ꒰ა 🔥 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
IV-Addiction
His handler was getting impatient. Hawks had never stayed under cover more than a month before. Usually less than two weeks. He’d fed them enough good information that they weren’t breathing down his neck too closely, but the fact was they were pretty sure he’d gotten everything he was going to get. Nagasi-san had already asked him three times if he thought a lower profile hero might make more headway.
And the true and honest answer was yes. Hawks was too high profile--a huge feather in their cap--ha!--if they could turn him and be certain of his loyalty. But, well… He was reaping huge benefits from the status quo. And he couldn’t exactly tell them the truth about the parts he fucking hated. So…
He was running out of time.
He knew that.
He should be pushing for more details or a clear time table. Or a meeting with Redestro or Shigaraki. But fuck…
He told himself that this kind of desperate craving was to be expected. He was in control. He had to appear obsessed. He needed Dabi to think…
It was a lie and he knew it.
Dabi thought Hawks was half cock-drunk within minutes of the door closing because he was.
And the party drugs he’d started sourcing--as bait!-- were certainly not actually necessary.
He could handle himself. He was a goddamn professional. He’d been doing this shit since he was fifteen.
He was not addicted to the feeling of burning fingers along his spine. He did not wake up hard and wanting from dreams that tasted like sweat and smelled like burned feathers. He was fine.
Everything was under control.
And the HPSC needed to know when Shigaraki would be a player again. Because he’d found out that the reason they weren’t moving was because he was getting some sort of crazy medical quirk upgrade. And the powers that be hadn’t even suspected.
So he was doing his damned job, thank you.
The fact that it was Twice that let it slip was not relevant. If Twice didn’t think of him as Dabi’s favorite plaything, he wouldn’t have trusted him enough to run his mouth. So it still counted.
And Dabi had confirmed the intel. And given a few more details. He was the reason they had the name Garaki.
“Garaki is a creepy-ass mother-fucker. Why do you want to talk about him when there are so many better things you could be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours, Pigeon?”
He’d fully infiltrated the PLF. Runners from Redestro’s camp knew him by name. Which, fine, most people did. But they didn’t stare or stammer or start stupid, pointless fights with him anymore. They put him to work or asked him questions or made rude gestures and fairly accurate innuendos. It was acceptance.
And that was addictive too. Hawks had never had a cohort. No friends. No camaraderie. He had skill and instruction and duty. He had teachers not mentors and rivals not friends.
Hell, Endeavor had called him son once, condescending as fucking hell, actually. But it was the first time in his goddamn life and… he’d maybe imprinted on the asshole a little bit. Evidently it didn’t take much to earn Hawks’s admiration. Throw his daddy in jail and take on the role of half-assed father figure and boom, little Hawks would follow you into battle.
Even if you were a shitty-as-hell leader.
But Dabi wanted him. Him, not the hero Hawks. Dabi wanted to touch him, taste him. Dabi shivered at his touch. His pupils dilated at the sound of his voice. Dabi watched his every move. And Hawks would gladly follow him toward immolation.
Play with fire and expect to get burned.
But it hurt so fucking good.
The PLF was staging an interview with Trumpet and Geten. It was scripted, but they weren’t bad actors. Hawks had room, in the great hall, to open his wings up a bit. He wasn’t really listening to the main event. He’d read and reread all the notes late last night when he’d broken into Redestro’s office while Dabi was passed out cold.
And that’s why he needed the drugs, thank you, Nagasi. Stupid bean-counter.
Hawks was listening to the crowd. He was keeping track of the level of approval and amount of enthusiasm. He was listening to the B and C list heroes and clocking names of others they thought might want to hear these great men speak truth to power.
Redestro was a spoiled little rich kid. And Geten was a fucking Himura. But whatever.
He tried not to let the way Dabi was watching him distract him.
Easier said than done. The damned fire starter kept catching his gaze and rolling his eyes. Which was bad enough. It was hard to filter crowd noise with his wings when he was laughing.
But he also kept holding eye contact and pinching his nipple or cupping his damned cock and laughing at Hawks when he blushed. Which he did, every damned time.
He wanted to slap the asshole.
He wanted to turn him over his knee and spank that ass until it was bright red and hot to the touch. He wanted to hold him down and wipe that infuriating sexy as hell smirk off his stupid face. He wanted to bite down on--
Geten was shouting about destroying heroes and allowing the truly powerful to rise, using the swell of enthusiasm in the crowd to add power to his half-justified ravings about the dogs of the state.
Dabi raised an eyebrow at Hawks, eyes flicking pointedly over his body.
Hawks shifted, trying to move so that his pants offered better camouflage without making it obvious exactly what he was doing.
Dabi made a lewd gesture, clearly laughing at him.
Hawks noted another hero name tossed out as a possible sympathizer. It was a big enough detail that it would buy him another few days here in the compound. But he wasn’t really paying attention.
Instead he was staring Dabi down, holding his eye as he sent a feather skimming along the edge of the crowd and over to tickle his ear and worm its way beneath his shirt to skim over his sensitive ribs.
The unscarred parts of Dabi’s skin were incredibly sensitive, almost as if his body was trying to compensate for the loss of feeling elsewhere. It took almost nothing to turn him into a moaning, quivering mess when he focused his attention on shifting from one to the other and back.
Valuable information, even if Nagasi wouldn’t find it particularly relevant.
Dabi twitched, trying not to react to the feather currently teasing his nipple and doing a piss poor job of it. Hawks could hear the way he sucked in his breath on a quiet gasp.
Further off in the crowd somebody mentioned an uncle that had a powerful quirk, how he already had money… something about shipping internationally. Hawks let his unconscious mind record the memory to be recalled in detail later.
He was laser focused on the way Dabi yanked his feather out of his clothes and pinched it between flickering fingers, the heat and moisture of his mouth as he licked the entire length of the shaft, the sudden exquisite pain when he incinerated it in a sudden flash of blue.
Fuck! Hawks had to fight not to fluff his wings. Or buck his hips.
He could just fly up into the balcony where his prey, ahem, his lover--damnit his mark--stood gloating. There was room.
It wouldn’t be subtle. Or remotely appropriate. But he could.
It would even have the added benefit of upstaging that blowhard Geten with his heroes have everything handed to them on golden pillows bullshit rhetoric. Sure there were hero families. But not everybody was an Iida or a Todoroki.
Hawks, for example, came from dirt.
He had a sudden, full body, sense memory of Dabi’s heavy boot pressing his chest into the dirt at the edge of this very courtyard.
He ignored the vibration from the bug in his belt buckle. The HPSC could do whatever they wanted with the uncut audio. The video would mostly be images of the belts and asses of various hangers on and would-be future powerful elite. That wasn’t his problem.
It was his job to get the information. Not to decide what to do with it afterward.
And besides, he had better things to do.
He pressed the button that would instantly download the data, using Skeptic’s own satellite link and disguising the data stream as static. Then he used one of his smallest feathers to disable the recorder and destroy the delicate circuitry.
The HPSC knew he was fucking Dabi. They told him to fuck Dabi.
Ok fine. They told him to fuck Compress. But that wasn’t an option, now was it?
Dabi suddenly appeared at his elbow. How could a man wearing that much leather and boots that weighed ten pounds each move so quietly?
Hawks didn’t actually care as Dabi pressed his lips into the bend of his left wing and hummed. “I saw you down here giving all your attention to that overgrown ice dispenser.” He flicked his tongue out, tracing one of his lesser coverts. “That attention belongs to me, silly bird.”
Hawks refused to give in that easily. “I think he has some interesting things to say.”
Dabi scoffed. “No you don’t. Don’t try to make me jealous, Pigeon. It won’t work.”
Hawks was yanked back to reality by the sound of his own name. Tokoname had the audacity to suggest that Mirko might be interested in hearing about how the PLF accepted heteromorphs like Spinner. Since Hawks was here, the top ten were clearly possible to turn with the right incentive. Slide-n-go idiot. Rumi would kick his head clean off his shoulders for suggesting it. He snorted.
Who cared that it was unattractive?
He was allowed to be unattractive here from time to time. In the compound he could wear the purple-red marks on his throat with pride.
Dabi didn’t take kindly to his distraction. He fingers were already dangerously hot as he dug them into his primaries, tugging harshly. “I said your attention belongs to me, pretty bird.”
“Oh? I thought you--hmmm--I thought you weren’t jealous.” Hawks stepped into Dabi, pressing his back to his chest and grinding his ass backward. “Aren’t you above all this petty showboating, Dabi? Hmm?”
“Oh, I am above a lot of things, Pretty Bird. Or I will be.” Dabi’s hand wrapped around his waist, hand splayed across his stomach just above the belt-buckle Hawks was only 90% certain he’d disabled before Dabi accosted him.
“O-oh?”
Dabi knew he was there at the behest of the commission. He wasn’t stupid. Hawks just wasn’t sure he believed that Hawks’s loyalty lay where he said it did. Even a duffel bag of Best Jeanist wasn’t enough to fully convince him. Which made the recording device a wild card it was smarter not to play.
Which was good. Because Hawks just so happened to want to take his belt, and the rest of his clothes for that matter, off at the earliest possible convenience.
Dabi leaned in close, his lips practically burning Hawks’s ear. His words were scorching in their own right. “With those incredible wings of yours, do you think I could fuck you right here without anybody knowing?” Dabi slid his hand lower, fingers grazing Hawks’s dick before palming him hard through his pants. “I bet I could, you horny little slut. I bet I could pull that jacket up and your pants down and ram my cock into you right here in the middle of the room and you’d beg me for more.”
“Dabi don’t--”
“Why not, Pigeon? You know you can take me.”
“That’s--ha!--that is so not the point.”
His hand was stroking Hawks blatantly over the top of his pants. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention at all. “What is the point, my pretty birdy?” He undid Hawk’s belt and shimmied down the back of his pants. “Better wrap one of those pretty wings around front or people are gonna be in for a show. Not sure how I’ll react if others start staring at this cock. I don’t share what’s mine.”
Hawks could hear the sound of Dabi’s belt letting go, feel the vibration of his zipper through his wings. Holy shit, Dabi was really going to--
Hawks whimpered as Dabi began stroking a single finger between his ass cheeks. “You should really keep this ass prepped. In case I want you like this.” Dabi had maneuvered them off to the side of the room, but they were still easily visible. “Wing, Birdy.”
Hawks tilted his right wing so that his primaries mostly covered his groin and his secondaries created a shield that blocked his suddenly bare hip from easy view. “Dabi. What the fuck are you--”
“You know what I’m doing, hero. I’m claiming what’s mine.” Dabi’s finger disappeared, replaced by something thicker, heavier. Hotter. “Better be quiet, Pigeon. I know you didn’t want to miss dear old Geten’s speech.”
Dabi thrust into him, hard and sudden. It hurt. Burned and stretched and ached. “Ha!”
“Shhh. Shh-shh. Quiet now, baby. That’s right. You can do it.” This gentle croon, after his earlier harshness made Hawks want to cry. “You want to be good for me, don’t you? Always the good guy.” Dabi began grinding into him, moving his hips in tiny circles. “My hero!” His quiet moan seemed to echo in Hawks’s ear.
The burning pain was giving way to an intense feeling of pressure as Dabi moved. He’d taken the villain any number of times, but never with no prep. Never like this.
Geten yelled something and the crowd roared. Hawks grabbed the opportunity to let himself shout, calling out “Yes!”
The woman next to him looked over and Dabi froze.
“I just love your enthusiasm, Hawks. Just goes to show there are some heroes that are looking out for the people.”
Hawks didn’t dare speak as Dabi chuckled against his neck, deciding on a grin and a shaky thumbs up.
The interviewer asked a question Hawks was way too damned overwhelmed to hear as Dabi pulled back and gave a tiny thrust. “I could keep you here forever like this.” He gave a tiny stinging swat to Hawks’s abs. “Pay attention, Birdy. Geten has interesting things to say.” Another short, sharp thrust. “Stop clenching so tight. I don’t want to interrupt this very important speech by filling you up and leaving you leaking while you’re trying to concentrate.”
“Fuck, Dabi. Stop. I can’t--” He was panting. His own hips jerking with every movement his partner made. “It’s too… I can’t--”
“You can, and you will, Birdy. You’re doing so well.”
Hawks groaned as Dabi hit his prostate and ground into it, letting his head fall backward onto the other man’s chest. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“Ah-ah. Quiet.” Dabi hummed. Some part of Hawks was proud of how strained his voice was. “I’m sure Geten is just getting to the good part.”
The palm that had been pressed into his abs ground harshly against Hawks’s straining cock. “I think I’ll make you cum. See if you have the self-control you’re famous for.”
“I--hungh--I have a reputation for s-speed aaaaand--ha--agility. I’m not known for my--fuck!--for my self-control.”
“Good,” Dabi growled into his wing.
Hawks knew he was a panting, shivering mess if anybody cared to look closely. But every one was focused on the speaker, hyped up by the rally.
Dabi continued to grind into him, continued to palm at his dick, continued to spew filth and praises into his ear until Hawks couldn’t think. He didn’t want to think. He was drawn tight as a bowstring, on the edge of sanity when Dabi leaned forward and bit his ear. “Sing for me Birdy.”
Hawks’s orgasm hit him like a bullet train. He knew he made some sort of noise before Dabi shoved the palm of his hand into his mouth with a hiss.
“Shit, Hawks I--Shit!” He thrust a handful more times before Hawks felt the sudden rush of liquid heat. “Fuck that was hot,” Dabi groaned into his shoulder.
Hawks’s legs were jelly, totally useless for holding him up. His head was swimming, his body still twitching. His thoughts seemed far away as Dabi pulled out and yanked their respective pants back into place.
“You with me here, Birdy?” he whispered, almost sounding worried.
Hawks giggled. He felt-- he felt a lot. “Where else would I be?” That was too loud. People glanced over at the two of them.
He was supposed to care, he just couldn’t be bothered to remember why.
“All right, time to get you out of here.” Dabi half led, half dragged Hawks to the edge of the room and into a supply room.
“Pigeon?”
“Hmmm?” Hawks wrapped his arms around Dabi. He shouldn’t. Some part of his brain was screaming at him that this was stupid. Beyond stupid. Dangerous. He needed to snap out of it, needed to get his shit together. He needed to get things back under control.
Instead he collapsed forward, nuzzling his cheek into Dabi’s chest. “You’re ssso warm, Fire Bug. ‘s nice.”
Why wasn’t his brain working? He was pretty sure Dabi didn’t drug him.
He felt…safe.
“C’mere an be warm, Dabi.” He had no idea why tears were welling in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks.
Dabi was clearly panicking. “Did I fuckin’ break you? Seriously, birdy. Tell me if you need a healer. I-- you seemed ok. I know it was--”
“Shhh. Hush, Fire Bug. ‘m ok. Just a little floaty. That was… a lot.”
“Ok. Yeah. Ok. What, uh, what do you need?”
Hawks looked at him, his beautiful eyes and his shiny staples and his wonderfully worried expression. “Kiss me.”
Dabi laughed. “I can do that.”
They kissed for a while, Dabi half holding his weight up against a shelf full of table linens. Hawks found himself slowly.
He hurt. Might even be bleeding. But he didn’t mind. He was utterly disgusting, his pants cold and gross against his skin. Some part of him was humiliated by what he’d just done, but the buzzing under his skin was pleasant. And Dabi’s lips were wonderful.
And Hawks wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t love. It wasn’t anything even resembling love.
But it was powerful.
And addictive
And his.
Let the commission call. He wasn’t going back. Not yet.
˚₊‧ ꒰ა 🔥 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
V-Connection
Dabi was a liar.
Hawks’s handler had been…adamant… in her condemnation of everything about his partn-- his target.
Partner in crime?
Fuck it. His Dabi.
His.
Dabi was a murderer. Which the HPSC didn’t seem to have a problem with when they gave him this assignment, but was now suddenly a huge deal. Like Hawks, of all people, was supposed to be horrified by that little tidbit. He’d been doing the Commission’s dirty work too long to flinch over-much about things like being a killer.
At least Dabi killed for himself and not at the whim of some pencil-pushing coward that had no problem sending a literal child on a kill mission as long as the blood was all cleaned up before they had to look at him.
Dabi was a terrorist. Which--obviously. His participation in a domestic terrorist organization--two if you counted the League of Villains and the PLF as two different groups-- was the whole point of Hawks seducing him in the first place. But Madame President felt that Hawks was being overly visible in his association.
He was letting the influence of a villain cloud his judgement.
He was being careless with his carefully crafted image.
He’d pushed back on that one. He was supposed to be a bit dim. Fast and heroic. Pretty and sarcastic. Charming and a bit of a playboy.
Hide your intellect boy. Being underestimated is an asset.
She couldn’t come up with anything other than a few singed feathers and a growing array of bruises and burn marks on his arms, chest, and neck.
He didn’t tell her she should see his thighs, but it was a near damn thing.
So she circled back once again to the thing that she seemed to think might make Hawks gasp and clutch at his metaphorical pearls and demand to be pulled from his current assignment.
A thing he had never done.
And he’d had assignments a hell of a lot worse than getting his brains fucked out by a dangerously attractive man while passing along enough information to still be considered useful. In both directions.
Because Madam Prez may not like it, but she’d played the game long enough to know that if Hawks gave them nothing, they’d figure out he was a fucking filthy liar.
Ahh, irony.
According to Mera-sama no self-respecting hero would degrade himself with a villain like Dabi unless he was an idiot that bought into the Metaliberation bullshit.
Which was laughable. Hawks reveled in the degradation. He craved the feel of Dabi’s fist in his hair or his teeth on his thighs or his heavy boot pressed dangerously against his cock. Hawks would absolutely go back just for the way Dabi’s laugh rubbed against his skin like heavy silk.
Three nights ago, Dabi shoved his leather gloves into Hawks’s mouth to keep him quiet and had taken his heavy leather belt to his ass and thighs before edging him until he sobbed and begged for release.
Hawks had thanked him for letting him rut against a leather-clad thigh until he came.
Hawks squared his shoulders and told Mera that he knew what he was doing. He said he had the situation under control.
So if anybody was a fucking liar…
She’d given HPSC approval for him to continue as he was, but he saw the glint in her eye. His time was running out.
“You’ll be ready to do your duty when the time comes, Hawks. Don’t give me cause to doubt it.”
They wanted him fully clear by the time the heroes made their move.
And Hawks wasn’t far enough gone to deny, at least to himself, that it was the right call. He just had no idea what the hell he was going to do when the order to disengage came in.
Fuck.
He didn’t bother with the HPSC supply chain. He didn’t feel like justifying his requisitions. And he was honest enough to admit that what he was picking up had nothing to do with the damned mission.
He handed over more money than the handful of boutique pills was worth washing them down with a glass of Hibiki 30 year and waving away some starstruck little thing that was so excited to meet a real hero like him.
His vision was blurred, his fingers and lips so tingly they were almost numb by the time he left the bar. Flying made him dizzy, but that was fine. He could walk.
He aimed himself in the general direction of his rarely used apartment.
He wanted Dabi.
“Dabi is a liar, Hawks.” So smug.
Dabi is a liar.
Except that he wasn’t. He was a bitch. He was bitter and angry and violent. And utterly, beautifully, addictively hot. He was smart and sarcastic and brutal in the best possible way.
He was also actually shockingly, bluntly honest.
He wasn’t shy about sharing his thoughts. In fact he never shut up when they were together, constantly teasing. When he wasn’t babbling obscenity and indecency and outrageous demands that Hawks scrambled to obey.
The only thing he ever lied about was himself. Who he was. Why he did the things he did.
Even then, he didn’t lie. He smirked. He changed the subject. He shoved something into Hawks’s mouth and distracted him from whatever question he’d been asking.
It was hard to remember inane questions about villain origin stories or what led him to Stain’s philosophies with a mouth full of dick.
And in truth, Hawks didn’t actually care anyway. It hardly mattered why Dabi hated heroes.
As for the rest? Dabi was more than happy to let Hawks and anybody else nearby hear exactly what he thought of Hawks’s wings and his mouth and his chest. He was especially clear in his opinions on Hawks’s ass. And his cock. And what he thought Hawks should be doing with them.
Hawks left those parts out of his reports.
Mostly.
Let Nagasi-san squirm a little. His descriptions of how Dabi’s devastatingly burned skin processed sensation were entirely relevant to the mission. Dabi was capable of simply ignoring intense pain, especially pain caused by fire. Which made sense, really. It made less sense that extreme cold didn’t bother him at all.
Either way, he could turn Hawks into a quaking, incoherent mess with extreme temperature play but didn’t really get much out of it himself.
Dabi liked Hawks’s talons though.
It brought Hawks an unreasonable amount of petty pleasure to make certain that Nagasi and his team knew, in detail, just how much Dabi appreciated his talons.
Some people enjoyed the bits of him that weren’t all the way human.
He knew he was being tracked. He even tried to care. Hawks wondered if they’d report back to Mommy… ahem, Madame President… if he flipped them off. Probably. Good little worker bees. He glanced up, but stumbled. Shit. He maybe shouldn’t have let Madame President and her cronies get to him. He was more fucked up than he expected to be.
What the hell had he taken?
He was most of the way home when it happened. A villain attack. Not a member of the PLF. just some nobody thug looking to make a buck or cause some havoc. Idiot with some sort of electrification and his buddy with some kind of sticky slime oozing from sacks on his forearms had cornered a young woman with two little kids.
Hawks might have let them take her purse. Fuck it. Let his tail deal with it. But then slimy-arms McGee decided to take a swipe at a kid.
And high as a kite or not, he was a hero.
And that meant something to him.
“You’ll be ready to do your duty when the time comes, Hawks. Don’t give me cause to doubt it.”
It meant a hell of a lot to him. Fucking president and her tricks for getting into his head. Fucking Mera and his ventriloquist dummy parroting of every single one of her concerns. And while he was at it, fuck Nagasi and his stupid little annotations on every single stupid report.
Maybe Dabi was right. Maybe he was just sick of being an apex predator pretending to be a docile little song-bird. Maybe he was sick of his cage. Maybe he--
Maybe he should pay attention to what the hell was happening as a simple purse-snatching intervention spiraled out of control.
It should have been easy. These guys barely knew how to manage a purse snatching without pissing themselves. And feathers didn’t conduct electricity.
But they did get stuck together when they got coated in nasty-ass goo. And with his wings all clumped up and his head soaring somewhere in the stratosphere his balance was shot.
And shit, did electro-boy have a knife? Hawks hardened a few feathers, sent them to pin the villains to the wall. And missed.
The whole street was spinning. Something slashed at his wing, sliced through three of his primaries. The sudden shock of pain cleared his head a little, but not enough.
And then the world was on fire.
“Don’t stand there gawking, Lady. Take your crotch droppings and run.” Dabi’s voice felt like cool water in Hawks’s heated brain.
“As for you.” He turned to the two villains. “Somebody should have told you that low-level, good-for-nothing scum should not touch what belongs to me.”
A flare of blue, a wave of blistering heat, and two horrified screams.
Dabi laughed. “Pride goeth before the fall, fuckers.”
It didn’t take long for the two bodies that used to be people to burn to ash.
Hawks was reeling, his head beginning to throb as adrenaline and exercise combined with his avian metabolism to burn through the drugs and alcohol in his system. “Dabi?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
It wasn’t so much untrue--here he was afterall--as patently ridiculous.
But then Dabi was grabbing him and pulling him and he was tripping into his chest, leaning into his arms.
His kisses were desperate. Possessive. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“My boss pissed me off, and drugs are fun?”
“Birdy you can’t--” And then they were kissing again.
They broke apart when they heard sirens approaching.
Hawks was still a little wobbly but certainly capable of flying the two of them the rest of the way to his apartment. He didn’t bother with the door, just landed on his balcony with a smile. “Let me sweep for bugs before you come in.”
“I cannot believe you let your bosses bug your house.”
“I can’t believe you tied yourself and your future to a whiney brat like Tomura Shigaraki, but here we are.”
“Hey now. Shiggy-boy is almost done with his mountain spa retreat. And once those power-ups take effect, I can finally burn your shitty Commission to cinders and dance in the dust.”
“Great!” Hawks chirped as a sliver of ice crept down his spine. “How long have I got before I need to clean out my office?”
“Three or four days.” Dabi pulled him close, kissed his neck. “Then you can tell those HPSC fuckers to bite your ass and take your place in a new society. One that will value your strength instead of covering it up with stupid gloves.” Dabi bit the finger of one of Hawks’s heavy gloves, tugging it until he freed his hands.
Three or four days. Oh gods. He needed more time--
“I didn’t come here to talk about Shigaraki and his damned quirk-boosters. I--are you ok?”
Quirk boosters? Hawks pulled Dabi into a kiss. And triggered his own alarm. Sixteen different cameras began recording as he led his lover into his home for the very first time.
He had twelve hours to change his mind.
He ignored the burning in his chest.
“You’ll be ready to do your duty when the time comes, Hawks. Don’t give me cause to doubt it.”
“I’m fine, Fire Bug. Let me give you a tour.” He cupped his cheek, brushing a kiss across his lips briefly before turning to show him to his bedroom.
Dabi sucked Hawks’s thumb into his mouth, nipped at the pad before drawing back. “You up for something different tonight, Pigeon?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“That depends on what kind of lube you’ve got in this nest of yours.” Dabi kissed down his neck, feathery and gentle. Like he sensed the same inevitable shitstorm Hawks could feel rushing toward them.
Hawks took Dabi by the hand and led him through his…house.
When the hell had he started thinking of a lumpy mattress in an overrun villa as home?
Whatever. Don’t think about it. He smiled his most charming smile before tugging open a drawer and tossing a bottle toward Dabi. “There’s a silicone based version in the shower.”
Dabi laughed as he caught the lube and popped the cap. “I’ll have to try both and compare notes.” Hawks could smell warming plastic as Dabi heated the hand that held the bottle. He stepped in close, pressed his lips to Hawks’s.
Dabi deepened the kiss, tongue invading Hawks’s mouth, teeth tugging at his lower lip. “Strip for me, Birdy.” He paused. “Go drink some water before you get on the bed.”
He was already naked when Hawks returned, sprawled in the middle of Hawks’s bed and stroking himself idly. “Come here, my Pretty Bird.” He guided Hawks to lay down, then slipped a blindfold over his eyes.
Hawks waited for the sting of a slap or the jolt of a bite, but it didn’t come. Instead Dabi began to massage his back and shoulders, pressing warm hands into tense muscles or running them over goosebump covered flesh.
Hawks was dissolving. As he melted into the cool sheets, Dabi began to intersperse kisses and long, laving passes of his tongue with his incredible hands. “That’s right, Pretty Bird, just relax.”
It felt like hours later that Dabi spread his cheeks to press a kiss against him. His teasing fingers were like fire as they pressed inside.
Hawks was floating. Unable to see, all he could use to anchor himself in space was the press of Dabi’s touch and the rasp of his voice.
At some point, Dabi grunted as if in surprise before letting out a low groan.
At another, he tapped Hawks’s thigh. “On your back, Pigeon.” When Hawks was slow to respond, Dabi grabbed his thighs and flipped him, but he didn’t grab or squeeze or bruise. Instead he murmured, “Beautiful,” before sucking his cock into his mouth. Soon after, his teasing fingers returned.
Dabi was panting, almost gasping around Hawks’s dick, his fingers faltering slightly, yet he slapped Hawks’s hands away when he tried to reach for him. “Let me,” was all he said.
He was unusually quiet after that, mumbling bits of praise but otherwise silent until Hawks’s thighs began to quiver and his balls drew up.
Dabi pulled away, not touching him at all until the moment passed. Then he clambered over Hawks’s body, settling across his hips. He guided Hawks’s hands to rest at his waist before pulling off the blindfold.
Even in the low light, his eyes took a moment to focus. Just long enough that his first clear sight was the look on Dabi’s face as he held Hawks steady and sank down onto him. “Eyes on me, Birdy. Only me.” And he began to rock almost tenderly, never breaking eye contact.
They built intensity slowly, Dabi’s hands resting on his chest for balance, caressing his pecs as his pierced cock bobbed in the rhythm of his movement.
“Can I touch you?” Hawks whispered.
“Please.”
Hawks tried to thrust up, to speed them along as Dabi’s rhythm began to falter, but he refused to be moved. “Hold on for me Birdy. Wait for me, ok?”
It was torture. Agony. Perfection.
When Hawks finally couldn’t hold back anymore Dabi sighed out a single “Yes.”
Hawks’s body was still twitching when Dabi seized up, eyes intense as he finished silently.
For a long, crystalline moment, neither of them moved. Dabi seemed not to know what to do, how to handle that kind of gentle release. Hawks guided him down to lie by his side, grabbing some discarded article of clothing or other to wipe them down.
They’d technically slept together before, passing out after intense sex or too much liquor or both. But they’d never held one another. Not like this. Not with long, lingering kisses and too many words unsaid.
He had no idea what made him speak. “Would you laugh if I said I was falling for you, Fire Bug?”
“Fuck yes.” Dabi didn’t so much as snicker. He brushed the sweaty hair away from Hawks’s forehead looking at him with an emotion Hawks didn’t know how to name in those hypnotic blue eyes. “What we have-- it ain’t love, Pretty Bird.”
“I know.”
“Then why bring it up?” Dabi’s blunted nails along his scapulars were achingly gentle.
“Because it’s something. Isn’t it?” Why was he doing this? He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t stop. He had to know. He had to.
Dabi smiled almost sweetly. “Yeah. It’s something.” Dabi kissed him. “I don’t know, Birdie. Maybe in another life it could have been something like that. Something like love.”
“It was worth it.”
“What was, Pigeon?” Dabi’s fingers stroked his back between his wings.
“You. This. All of it.” He didn’t know why he said it. This wasn’t them. It wasn’t who they were. It wasn’t real.
It was the realest thing he’d ever experienced in his packaged, controlled, commodified life.
“Yeah.” Dabi kissed him. He wanted to cry.
He refused to waste even a second of whatever this was.
Connection, maybe.
“We could run.” He didn’t mean it. He could hear the falsehood in the words. “Leave it all behind and immigrate to France.”
Dabi laughed. “That bitch at the Commission giving you more trouble? I can set her on fire if you want. You can claim you didn’t know.”
Hawks huffed out a surprise chuckle.
“You’ll be ready to do your duty when the time comes, Hawks. Don’t give me cause to doubt it.”
Hawks shrugged, settling his cheek against Dabi’s chest. “Nah. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just-- you have to know shit’s about to go down. One side or the other is going to make a move. I just--”
“You finally admitting you’re a spy?” Dabi didn’t sound angry. His lips skimmed over Hawks’s shoulders. He could feel the way he smiled.
“Never said I wasn’t, you know.”
“It was kind of implied.”
“Go to sleep, asshole.”
Dawn was creeping over the horizon, gilding the room in rose gold.
He was almost asleep when Dabi whispered, “Hey Birdy?”
“Mhmm?”
“Whatever it is? Whatever they said that fucked with your head? They were lying.”
“Shiggy-boy is almost done with his mountain spa retreat. And once those power-ups take effect, I can finally burn your shitty Commission to cinders and dance in the dust.”
“You’ll be ready to do your duty when the time comes, Hawks. Don’t give me cause to doubt it.”
“Go ahead and laugh,” he mumbled, ignoring the tears that threatened. He kissed Dabi desperately.
Their coupling was hard and fast, wordless and desperate. They tore at one another, pulling and scratching and biting with a ferocity that drew blood more than once.
When Hawks came it was accompanied by a shuddering sob.
They collapsed afterward, exhausted.
Hawks didn’t turn off the alarm. The signal sent while they slept.
Along with all the video footage. Let them see what duty cost.
When the police and suppression heroes arrived, Dabi didn’t even look surprised. He just looked at Hawks, watching the way his feathers rustled, fluffing and settling and fluffing again, though his eyes were long since dry.
“Why?”
“I’m a hero.”
Dabi pulled on his pants but left his leather coat behind. “Bullshit.”
Hawks balled the coat up into his arms like a teddy bear. A comfort he’d not been allowed since the Commission bought him. “Without duty, what am I?”
“Free.”
And that was the prettiest lie of all.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🔥⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺