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The bass is loud, the heavy music reverberating in his eardrums and pounding in his chest; making him breathless with adrenaline. Flashing lights burning at his half lidded eyes, his body too nauseated with the taste of liquor violating his throat to really do anything.
Dabi doesn’t really remember too much. His nose overwhelmed by the stench of marijuana and sex as other teens relax in his and his roommates lounge. It‘s awkward, trying to shuffle around, his body almost lax from the pill he had consumed an hour or so prior, his footing is off and the contents of his red solo cup slosh around, the dirty looking liquid practically spilling out of the plastic cup as Dabi walks around the room, trying to find a desolate corner or a trashcan he can empty the contents of his stomach into.
He‘s disorientated and he finds the leather couch that’s usually in the middle of the room pushed up against one of the walls, and he tries to ignore the burning sensation in his nose, sitting himself down onto the sofa with a heavy sigh of relief; leaning his head back and closing his eyes in attempts to stop the room from uncontrollably spinning.
The leather of the couch feels cold against his sweaty skin and he feels the tense muscles of his back relax as he sinks into the fabric.
He feels eyes burning into the side of his skull, slowly and cautiously opening his own to stop the room from turning; He looks over to the left of him and sees another boy. He wants to say something, maybe throw an insult at him for staring or flip him off but even under the harsh lights of the room Dabi can very clearly see his tear streaked face and the glossy eyes that continue to watch him.
Dabi bites his lip in uncertainty, the burn of the alcohol almost drains from his body as he takes a look at the crying boy beside him. It’s odd, really, to see someone crying in the middle of a party. But maybe that’s a normal thing that happens and he hasn’t experienced it yet, Dabi ponders, pressing his teeth into his lip a little harder- the action almost piercing the skin.
“Are you okay?” He shouts over the music, his voice is unwavering even with the alcohol in his system and he’s glad his speech isn’t slurring, it would be a shitty first impression.
The boy across from him doesn’t really give an answer and for some reason it unsettles Dabi. He runs his free hand through his black locks and decides to hurl himself up from the couch- the action causing him to gag at the jerk in his stomach but he does his best to ignore it.
“Come with me!” He yells over the music again, looking back at the tear streaked boy with caution.
To Dabi’s surprise, he gets up. He seems a little shaky on his feet and Dabi unthinkingly grabs the small hand in his much bigger one. The action makes the boy flinch but he doesn’t let go, in fact, he follows in tow when the black haired boy starts heading towards the stairs, pushing past people and getting glares and insults shouted towards him.
They meander their way through the wall of people and Dabi feels the boy grip harder at his arm, to which he can only start walking faster, his head spinning as he tries to get them to an empty room.
It’s probably about ten minutes, of stifling through people and having to see sights he really didn’t come to witness, before Dabi finds his empty room and pulls his company in with him, the action causing the smaller of the two to yelp and almost trip in surprise.
“Sit down,” Dabi mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face at the infiltration of lights to his sensitive eyes.
In the yellow toned light Dabi can see his company more clearly. He’s got blue-white toned hair that reaches just below the nape of his neck, it’s unruly really, but it frames his face and hides his forehead and eyebrows. He’s fidgeting with his fingers as Dabi looks him up and down, unironically checking him out. There’s a bruise to his cheekbone and it’s a blossoming light purple against his pale skin.
His lips are chapped, Dabi doesn’t really care though because he’s got that ‘just-done-crying’ look on him and the tip of his nose is pink and his eyes are glossy and he looks /hot/ with the way his bottom lip juts out just a little bit as he sniffles.
“Are you Okay?” Dabi asks, genuinely, as he kneels in front of the boy so he can look at his eyes instead of forcing him to look up at him, he’s slow with his actions- both not to scare the boy or make himself throw up.
As he kneels down he can clearly see broken skin on the boy’s wrist as he’s playing with his hands, the skin looks cracked-almost; like a razor to the wrist one too many times and Dabi wants to reach out and hold his hand again, maybe apologize for grabbing him so hard in the commotion.
The room smells of sweat and the music from the lower room is muted and muffled from being so far away now, it’s less claustrophobic and more soothing, Dabi can feel his headache start to ease as he takes unconscious breaths to help the white haired boy in front of him copy the movement.
He does, breathing deeply and exhaling shakily, he opens his mouth and Dabi is surprised by the voice that penetrates the air.
“My name is Shigaraki.” It’s small, like it’s been whispered into the air by accident but Dabi appreciates Shigaraki telling him and he makes a shuffled move to pull himself up to the bed.
He sits too close to Shigaraki, maybe its by accident, but their jean clad thighs rub together and it’s almost as if the smaller of the two sink in to the warmth emitting from Dabi.
The room is quiet for a moment, Dabi feels himself sober up before he offhandedly opens his mouth.
“I like your pants, Shiggy.” He says, almost cockily. He’s smirking as he says it but there’s no malicious intent, he’s just bad at comforting people, the nickname slips off of his tongue and he doesn’t see Shigaraki blush to it.
Almost instinctively though, Shigaraki starts picking at the fabric of his jeans, scratching at it as he mutters out a small ‘thank you’ with his breath hitching in his throat.
Dabi falls back onto the bed and groans in discomfort at the layers of clothing stuck to his sweaty skin, it’s almost like a growl from the back of his throat and he’s certain he can hear Shigaraki giggle as he looks over his shoulder.
“Wanna tell me what’s up, Huh?” Dabi grumbles again as he sits up on his elbows, his eyelids feel heavy but he doesn’t want to mention anything to Shigaraki.
The boy immediately starts shuffling again and opens his mouth to speak, before Dabi stops him.
“It’s fine. If you can’t- you know? I don’t give a shit if you tell me or not.”
Shigaraki nods and bites his lip and Dabi really can’t help but look away from the sight, it’s weird. He’s drugged up and drunk and horny and he doesn’t /want/ to be.
His stomach churns incessantly, it’s almost like rocks are being hurled around and are weighing him down into the bed. He lets out a choked laugh into the air but he’s sure Shigaraki hears it as a gag, because he flinches and looks back down at the floor to continue playing with the hem of his shirt.
“Tell me about yourself- Not about what’s wrong. Fuck. About /you/.” Dabi backtracks, before lifting one his his hands up to cover his eyes at the sudden brightness of his room’s dingy yellow light.
When he opens his eyes though, the room is dark and he realizes Shigaraki has turned the light off. He feels the bed dip next to him and while his eyes are adjusting to the different shades of black he can clearly see the white haired boy copying his movements and lying down with him.
“I’m 18,” He mumbles, taking a shaky breath and Dabi can’t help but notice that his voice is incredibly hoarse from crying, “I hate parties, funny right?” He laughs, but it’s dry and there’s no effort to hide it.
Dabi feels himself become sympathetic and he immediately misses the clear sight of the boy led next to him, it’s weird. Maybe it’s the drugs, or the alcohol or the blood pumping itself to places it doesn’t need to go- but he wants to reach out and find Shigaraki in the covers, to trace the bow of his lip and maybe work around his neck.
He wants to. But he doesn’t, respectively. He’s too intoxicated and he’s buzzing from a high and ironically he almost feels subdued in Shigaraki’s presence.
The air of his room is cool, there’s a breeze drifting through his window but it’s welcoming, the clammy sheen of sweat sticking to their skin ends up cooling, making Shigaraki shiver slightly next to Dabi. He turns, idly looking into the dark at the white haired boy and he’d feel embarrassed for staring if it weren’t for the latter already looking back at him.
They don’t know anything about each other, yet Dabi already feels like they’ve got history together. He wants to prod, to learn about Shigaraki- to ask him where he grew up and what his family is like and whether he has a pet or a dream or whether he spends his days sleeping and his nights getting high.
But they both stay quiet. It’s nice, melancholy really as they’re both breathing heavily into the cool air, their breaths mingling together as they watch one another in the dark. Dabi wants to reach out and taste the skin of Shigaraki’s lip right then and there, he can smell strawberry on his tongue and it’s intoxicating. He feels more drunk on this stranger than the alcohol pumping through his veins.
“Can I-“ Dabi finally plucks up the courage to speak, squinting in the dark of the room to try and focus his eyes on Shigaraki’s own, the ruby irises staring back intently at him.
Dabi can feel him nod and he shuffles closer in attempt to give his consent. Though the black haired boy reaches out into the dark and grips onto Shigaraki’s waist.
His grip is hard, though he can’t tell whether it’s hurting Shigaraki or not, the boy only tilts his head to try and connect their lips and lets out a whimper when Dabi stops him.
“I want to take my time with you.” He says, slowly and his head is pounding and his eyes feel bloodshot but he can’t help pressing his lips onto the skin of Shigaraki’s cheek gently.
It’s soft, he does it again and then he places one on his nose and hears the smaller boy let out a soft giggle at the feeling. He rubs his hand idly up and down Shigaraki’s waist as he leaves small ghostlike kisses all over the stranger’s face.
Dabi doesn’t know how much time they have, or whether they’ll even see each other again after tonight. That thought only urges him to move, his grip on Shigaraki’s waist becomes almost possessive, as if he’ll slip through his fingers and disappear at any moment.
It’s like Shigaraki knows, though. He lifts his hand and tangles it in Dabi’s hair, pulling gently at the locks before he opens his mouth.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And Dabi takes his confirmation, before slipping their lips together and catching the whimpers that fall from Shigaraki’s mouth when he bites down on the small boy’s lip, his sharp teeth piercing the skin before he’s running his tongue over it gently and basking in the taste of metal and strawberry in his mouth.
Shigaraki tastes as good as he looks, he’s inexperienced and sloppy- although it could just be from the alcohol coursing through his system, making his movements languid as he grips Dabi’s hair harshly when the older boy threatens to pull away. It’s cute, Dabi thinks, he feels breathless and his lungs are burning from lack of oxygen but Shigaraki is so much better.
When they do break apart, with a string of saliva connecting their lips, Shigaraki is panting heavily and his cheeks are flushed warm. Dabi lessens his grip on the boy’s waist and turns around to lie on his back.
“Shiggy,” He mumbles, breathlessly, though he hears the boy next to him whine something out, “Come here.”
Dabi doesn’t really know what he’s referring to when he says it, he doesn’t know whether he wants Shigaraki to scoot closer and curl up into his side so they can sleep or watch the white haired boy sit himself in his lap so they can kiss again. The younger of the two goes with the latter though, he’s working himself into Dabi’s lap in the dark uncoordinatedly.
The heat emitting from Shigaraki is almost scalding and the whine that penetrates the air when Dabi works a hand onto his throat could probably be heard through the walls and it makes the older boy smirk cockily into the dark room.
Shigaraki finds the pressure on his throat overwhelming. Dabi constricting the blood flow through the veins on the side of his neck has him shivering in the older man’s lap, languidly gyrating his hips into thin air as the Dabi only presses harder and basks in the noises falling from his lips.
It’s intoxicating and Dabi is worried to let go of his neck in case the lack of touch sends Shigaraki off, although he loosens his grip and mumbles to the boy above him.
“Just taking your clothes off, Sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s surprisingly soft from Dabi, really. Awkwardly intimate as Shigaraki lifts his arms above his head and Dabi helps him strip from his shirt as he sits up. As he’s closer to the white boy’s mouth he steals another kiss and runs his hands over his chest.
Shigaraki’s collar is exposed and Dabi can’t help but sink his teeth into the skin, the action causing the smaller of the two to jerk his hips forwards in a feeble attempt to find friction. It makes Dabi smile, as he takes his time marking up Shigaraki’s neck possessively, imagining the sight of deep purple bruises littering the skin of his throat and the expanse of his collarbone when he wakes up tomorrow morning.
“Please.” Shigaraki ends up muttering as he holds Dabi’s face to his chest, shivering when the black haired boy grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin and laps his tongue over a bite mark that’s still sore on his neck.
Dabi’s ignoring his own needs when he feels Shigaraki guide one of the black haired boy’s large hands to the strain in his pants, the heat of Dabi’s hand on the white haired boy’s jean clad erection sends shivers over his body.
The older boy doesn’t see the way Shigaraki’s jaw falls slack when he starts massaging him lewdly- he hears him though, the lack of sight enhancing his other senses, the sound of Shigaraki panting at the small touches has him smirking cockily again.
“You’re so sensitive,” He says, adding pressure to Shigaraki’s crotch just to feel the way he juts his hips, “It’s cute.”
He hears Shigaraki whimper pathetically, the broken rhythm of his hips and the friction of his jeans begin to feel overwhelming and Dabi can’t help but want to touch him properly.
So he does, pulling his hand away to unbutton it he shushes Shigaraki when he whines in the back of his throat, leaving kisses on the soft skin of his chest while he fiddles with the button of the other boy’s jeans.
When he gets them undone and Shigaraki’s clumsily slipping them off of his thighs, just enough to where Dabi can grope him through his boxers- the action elicits a moan from the overwhelmed boy, his hair falling in front of his face while Dabi begins to run his hand slowly over his clothed erection.
“Do you mind if I-“ He goes to ask, his voice more gravelly and deep the longer he ignores his own problem, but Shigaraki’s babbling out his string of consent into the tufts of Dabi’s hair before the older man can even finish his sentence.
As soon as the black haired man touches Shigaraki his body arches into the warmth of his hand. The incoherent whining stops when Dabi presses his lips to Shigaraki’s, his mouth tastes salty and Dabi wants to pull away and ask what’s wrong but it’s too late and Shigaraki is wrapping his arms around his neck and desperately trying to chase the high from the grip of the large hand around his cock.
Dabi’s got rough hands, they’re covered in callouses from playing with fire and the friction on Shigaraki’s oversensitive dick adds nothing but painful pleasure for the small boy, he’s too far gone to know whether he’s jerking his hips against the grip or trying to get away from the way Dabi is thumbing the vein on the underside of his length and coating his head in the precome that’s dripping from his slit.
They’re pressing their foreheads together in the dark of the room and Shigaraki’s working up a sheen of sweat, his white hair sticking to the nape of his neck as he listens to Dabi whisper vulgar praise under his breath, the words going straight to his erection and the broken rhythm of his hips come to an abrupt halt while his body convulses on Dabi’s lap.
The praises of ‘good boy’ and ‘well done’ fill the air as Dabi pumps him until he’s whining.
“Your hand- I’m Sorry.” Shigaraki pants out, his eyes closed.
Dabi only snickers, pulling his forehead away from Shigaraki’s as he tastes the salty liquid on his hand, making an effort to know the tired boy in his lap hears it. He does- and he whines embarrassedly, shoving his head into the crook of Dabi’s neck and murmuring out something about it being gross.
“You taste sweet.” Dabi whispers out, his clean hand rubbing itself up and down Shigaraki’s back in an attempt to calm him down from his high.
It works, because when Shigaraki pulls away from the crook of his neck he leans in to kiss Dabi again, slowly this time, and even though the lights are off the smaller of the two blushes at the taste of himself on his tongue. It’s agonizingly slow, sensual- with their limbs intertwined lazily and Shigaraki can feel Dabi’s erection straining in his trousers but when he goes to say something about it he’s only pulled back into the kiss.
-
When the sun rises the next day, with its umber hue filtering itself through the thin fabric of Dabi’s bedroom curtain, the two boys are found nestled together. Shigaraki’s adorned with the cotton of one of the older boy’s shirts and their limbs are languidly slotted together like pieces of a puzzle- they’re cocooned together underneath the thick covers, the white haired boy nestled in Dabi’s arms with their legs tangled messily together under the covers.
It’s too domestic for a couple of men that only met the night before, with Dabi’s soft snores into the tuft of Shigaraki’s hair and the way their chests are pressed against one another’s with their hearts pumping in rhythm.
And when Dabi is first to wake, with a headache splitting down his temples and pangs of a static-like feeling to the arm that’s stuck underneath the sleeping boy, he doesn’t feel an ounce of regret.
He leaves a single kiss to Shigaraki’s forehead before he closes his eyes and drifts off again.