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Six weeks. He’s been working six weeks in this ridiculous job, shaking ass for men who brag about their money while cockroaches crawl from their wallets and watching his target like a hawk. Six fucking weeks and said target has paid for his first lap dance—from another dancer.
It’s stupid. He shouldn’t be angry, really. His job has its ups and downs and unexpected obstacles happen all the time. Hell, Keigo is damn lucky that none of his ops have fallen through yet.
For some reason, seeing Enji Todoroki lean back on one of the club’s shiny leather couches while a curvaceous, young boy rides his cock through his pants like his life depends on it makes Keigo want to snap the metal pole he’s spinning around.
He tries to collect himself, he truly does. As he lazily spins, mostly naked body on delicious display, Keigo counts backwards from one-hundred. There’s no reason to fuck up his cover because a mass serial killer won’t look at him.
Relax, Lady Nagant’s voice drawls in his head. You have to go with the flow or you’ll end up dead and floating in it instead.
By the time he gets to one, Keigo is still pissed but at least he doesn’t feel like the grip on the pole is going to dent the damn thing. On auto-pilot, Keigo dismounts from the pole and sways to the end of his stage. A party of women holler for him as he squats in front of them, his back to their gobbling faces. As a little show, he spreads his wings—stunted and dyed black—and they, predictably, go wild.
Keigo isn’t paying attention to their sneaky hands and drunken money. He’s looking at Enji Todoroki.
Villain name: Endeavor. The boss of an old yakuza family that doesn’t really operate like yakuza anymore because of the increase of powerful quirk users. He’s connected to at least twenty-eight deaths and his victims range from innocent men in the wrong place at the wrong time to fellow capos. All of them are burned to ash with only a few teeth left over to identify them by.
Intel had come in seven weeks ago that Endeavor spends the majority of his nights here: Prominence, an all-male strip club. Keigo had jumped on the opportunity. He knows his strengths and his body is certainly one of them. And an opportunity to go after the man he’s been hounding in the shadows for years and the damn reason he became a spy in the first place is too good to pass up.
It had gone well for a few weeks. He’d been announced as a new dancer and Endeavor had been appropriately entranced by him. The big guy seemed to enjoy it when Keigo teases the audience by flashing more than he should. Sure, it gets Keigo in mild trouble with the manager, but they can see the money it rakes in from Todoroki alone.
Keigo did his best to create someone that a criminal syndicate boss would yearn for: a sexy, enigmatic, risk-taker who seemed to scoff at rules. A brat, a tease, and a little bit desperate. It had been laughably easy to get Endeavor’s brilliant blue eyes stuck on his swaying body.
So why hasn’t Enji fucking Todoroki asked for him yet?
And why did he ask for the new dancer instead?
Keigo purrs at the women behind him as they give him a paper skirt with all the money they shove in there. When one of them tries to delve beneath the shimmering thong he wears, Keigo glances up to make sure that Todoroki is watching.
He’s not.
Gently, he moves the woman’s hand elsewhere. He’ll let them touch. Just not that much. They seem to enjoy it anyway.
It’s not long until he’s back at the pole, showing off his spoils as he grinds on the metal and dips to the ground.
Enji Todoroki still hasn’t looked at him.
Keigo hisses through his teeth when he spins away from his wild audience.
The boy dancing on him is a young boy by the name of Toshi. He’s too young to be here but stubborn enough to scoff whenever Keigo offers a helping hand. On top of that, he can’t dance. He refuses to learn. He’s grinding on Todoroki like a flopping fish and the man is completely enthralled.
Keigo wants to scream.
The night crawls forward. Keigo dances and collects his earnings. Endeavor still refuses to look his way. By the time his set is nearly at its end, Keigo is ready to pack it up and go home. He’ll have to figure out a different way to get close to Endeavor because this isn’t doing it. Fuck, that probably means he’ll have to give up his undercover work to someone else; the guy’s already seen his face. That thought just makes him even sourer.
He’s been chasing after this man for years. He’s not going to give it up because Endeavor is too stubborn to think with his cock.
Just as he bends down to scoop up a bill that had fallen from his underwear, a chill slips down his spine like a finger with a long, sharp nail. He forces his body not to react, instead casually looking up.
Enji Todoroki is looking at him. The boy from earlier is nuzzling into his chest, looking more sated than a dancer should. Blue eyes cut through the heady lights of the club and snare their claws into Keigo’s gaze.
It’s an intense look. That chill hasn’t left Keigo’s spine, happy to go up and down each vertebra. With a (hopefully) dismissive look, Keigo stands and allows the bill to join the stack he holds in his hand. Both wings ruffle, an effort to get rid of that pesky finger playing xylophone on his spine.
Yet, Enji Todoroki doesn’t look away. He continues to watch Keigo as he sips his scotch and pets the boy’s hip. It makes Keigo sick.
Keigo turns away abruptly, letting his hips sway as he walks down the stage and towards the back rooms with his heels tapping the entire way. Just a bit of floor work and he’ll be done at this club.
It’s kind of too bad. If it wasn’t for the flaming elephant in the room, Keigo would have enjoyed himself a lot more. The music was good and the dancing was fun. What regular customers he did make over the last six weeks were all pretty cool people. He’d miss them to some degree. Like missing people from single-semester college classes or something.
So lost in his thoughts, Keigo doesn’t realize that the club manager is lurking in the shadows when Keigo enters the dressing room. When the man pops out, Keigo nearly spears him directly through the head—thankfully, he forces his feathers to go soft so he just hits the guy harmlessly in the face with his wing instead.
“Oh my god!” Keigo gasps, hands going to his chest with his stack of money. “I am so sorry, Atsu!”
The manager, a big-toothed man with a wildly colored mohawk, laughs and waves it off. “No worries, Kei! Just here to tell ya that we got a VIP in the Velvet Room askin’ for you, specifically.”
The Velvet Room. The small room in the back of the club with no cameras and a faulty security button. Customers have to pay an arm and a leg to get back there with one of the dancers, but when they do…
There’s only one person who could be back there.
“Oh, how exciting,” Keigo drawls and walks over to his locker. Quick mental math tells him how to split his tips and he offers part of the stack over to Atsu. “I’ll be there in a second. Any special requests?”
Atsu takes the money without even a nod of his head in thanks. “Yep. No clothes.”
Keigo’s mind races. There are two options for how this is going to go down and Keigo isn’t excited about either of them. But, a job’s a job and Keigo is nothing if not professional.
“Goodie,” he mutters as he stuffs the rest of his pay into his safety box. After that, he starts taking off his clothes as Atsu continues to blabber.
“Yeah! The dude is massive, man. You’re gonna have a fun time tonight, I’m sure.” It’s a threat and a poorly contained one at that. Keigo resists the urge to roll his eyes. Atsu is desperate to be taken seriously, even if that means putting his dancers in harm’s way. These people don’t deserve a rat like him.
Keigo pulls off his heels before working his underwear down and off his legs. He can feel Atsu’s eyes on him like tree sap.
“Pay up if you’re going to be looking that much,” Keigo grunts as he adjusts his balls so they aren’t sticking to his skin as much. Pleather thongs are not comfortable for someone with dangly bits, that’s for certain. He’ll have to wipe off a bit before going into the back.
Atsu laughs like a donkey. “Boy, I don’t have to pay. But I get ya, I get ya. Make sure to leave the big guy satisfied!” Or else.
Keigo is going to arrest that fucker once he’s done with this op. He’s sure something is incriminating in this damn club. He resists the urge to send a feather to expedite the process as Atsu spins around to swagger off. His dick isn’t nearly large enough for how wide his legs bow.
A few swipes of his unscented baby wipes and Keigo pads out of the dressing room and into the hallway at the back. He’s naked aside from the gloss on his lips. Every step draws another pair of eyes, but Keigo is too caught up in the possibility that he’ll have to fight one of the most notorious villains in Japan—because that’s the only direction he sees this going.
The Velvet Room has a velvet door. It’s fuzzy to the touch and never ceases to make Keigo’s skin crawl. It’s a damn good thing he’s never asked to go here. Until now, that is. He nudges it open and enters the room.
Floor-to-ceiling mirrors line the wall behind the small stage. Black velvet covers every other inch of the room aside from the shiny leather couches and pristine flooring of the stage. The room itself is barely big enough to fit the couch that sits occupied at the head of it.
Enji Todoroki tilts his head to the side to lazily look at Keigo. He’s nursing a cigarette, smoke pooling out of his nose. Keigo doesn’t appreciate the unimpressed look in his eye and he doesn’t like the implication of how knowing his lazy smirk looks.
“Brazen whore,” is the first thing Endeavor says.
Keigo resists the urge to growl like a feral dog.
Instead, he pulls his lips into a smile that he’s sure looks more like a snarl and sways his way over to the stage.
“You get what you pay for, daddy,” Keigo purrs as he mounts the stairs and wraps his hand around the shiny metal pole situated in the middle of the stage. “A show before we get onto… better things?”
Todoroki’s eyes are blazing hot lines over Keigo’s body, lingering on his small black wings and the curve of his lean thighs. Keigo pops a hip out and pushes off gently with his foot to start a lazy spin on the pole with his toes barely skimming the surface of the stage. His anchoring grip on the metal is making his muscles burn pleasantly, though he won’t be able to hold this for long after such a busy night.
Endeavor has a different idea in mind.
“No,” the man grunts around his cigarette, pulling it free from his teeth with two surprisingly dainty fingers. “Come here.”
Well, shit. Keigo hides the tension roiling in his belly as he places the soles of his feet flat on the stage. Both wings ruffle against his spine as he pads his way to the edge of the platform and uses his long legs to step directly off and onto the floor.
Todoroki watches him the entire way, cigarette forgotten between his knuckles and his eyes glued to every shifting muscle.
A petty sort of irritation joins the tension in his stomach. Where had this interest been before? Why has he been shaking his ass for no reason for the past six goddamn weeks if Enji Todoroki was interested in him like this? And why had Endeavor practically fucked that kid on the floor while Keigo was forced to stand up on his stage and watch?
Refusing to name the anger flooding his tingling fingertips, Keigo walks up to Endeavor to stand between his knees with a cocked hip. His cock is flaccid against his thighs, pretty and pillowed by soft balls. Yet, Endeavor isn’t looking at his prize. Those fire blues are locked onto Keigo’s eyes as Endeavor drags one final pull from his cigarette.
When Endeavor leans forward to snuff out his ashtray on the coffee table just to Keigo’s left, the boy’s chest goes strangely tight. He can feel Endeavor’s hot breath against his belly and hip. He firmly ignores how sexy that teasing breath is.
“Sit,” Endeavor commands with the air of a man who’s never been told no. One of his big hands pats the fine fabric of his slacks before going back to resting on the back of the couch.
“Right into the action, huh?” Keigo purrs as he slips into the man’s lap. His thighs strain to their fullest extent as he straddles Endeavor’s hips. The yakuza boss is so much larger than him that it’s nearly painful.
A chuckle like a dragon’s growl shudders through Keigo’s chest. “I suppose you could say that,” Endeavor murmurs. One thick finger traces up the centerline of Keigo’s belly, tracing every curve of his abdomen and skimming over his left pec. The pristinely manicured nail passes right over his heart.
“I’ll admit,” Keigo hums back, hands behind him and gripping onto Endeavor’s knees. “I’m not the best at giving lap dances. Wings kind of get in the way.”
“I don’t want a lap dance, Hawks.”
Oh shit.
No one is supposed to know that name.
Before Keigo can pull himself back, Endeavor’s hand wraps around his throat. Completely. His fingers overlap over Keigo’s spine and he holds so firmly that the spy can’t do anything but grip onto Endeavor’s thick wrist and choke.
“Your boss is an idiot,” Endeavor says, casual as can be, as Keigo gasps wetly for air. “She should have been more careful with her toys.”
Talons dig into Endeavor’s wrist, blood pooling from around his sharp black nails. Reflexively, Endeavor lets go—and only a breath passes before Keigo is pressing his longest available primary to Endeavor’s throat.
Yet, he doesn’t dig in. Not yet.
He has a job.
“How long have you known?” Keigo purrs through tight vocal cords. He sounds like his throat has just been through a trash compactor, but at least he is keeping down the chest-shaking coughs that are threatening to come up.
Though, if anyone deserves to have their face coughed in, it’s Enji fucking Todoroki.
“You received a tip seven weeks ago from a man who works at this establishment.” Endeavor doesn’t have the decency to look phased at all by the sharp blade at his neck. “That man acquired 50,000 in his bank account the next day.”
So, Endeavor knew from the very beginning. He planned this. Does he know that Keigo has been after him for much, much longer? Rage is starting to billow up Keigo’s esophagus. He wants to yell, cut this man’s throat, and watch him and his audacity bleed out on the couch. He could. He would just tell the president that it was unavoidable, that the info they got was suspect, and that Endeavor had set them up.
He can. But he won’t.
Keigo leans closer, their noses nearly brushing. “Why?”
It’s hard to focus on Endeavor’s eyes this close, but Keigo can see the amusement in them clear as day.
“Why not?” Endeavor whispers back. “I wanted to see how a master spy would react to my games.”
Master spy. Keigo’s jaw works from side to side, teeth grinding with his frustration. He’s not fucking James Bond.
“And?” Keigo hisses. “Did I meet your expectations, Endeavor?”
Endeavor bares his teeth in a lazy smirk. “No. Your charade was… disappointing.”
Fluff pops free from the couch as Keigo slams his blade into the leather couch beside Endeavor’s head. The man doesn’t flinch.
“What was this all for?” Keigo snarls as his fingers tangle in Endeavor’s hair and drag his head back. Somehow, the man lets him. Shitty leather screams as Keigo looms above Endeavor’s tilted face and his feather drags through the fabric. “Was it—what, a plot to tire me out until I can’t fight back?”
That smirk only grows.
“I was planning on killing you within the first week,” Endeavor admitted. His hands leave the back of the seat and Keigo nearly drives his feather into his neck—but they just come to rest on Keigo’s hips. There’s no heat in them. They’re a bit cold on Keigo’s adrenaline-heated skin.
“That would have been a fucking mercy,” Keigo growls. “This game was a waste of my damn time.”
Steam fills the air between them, licking at Keigo’s jaw as it pours from Endeavor’s nose. The heat on his skin has wings shaking in response.
“Don’t lie to me, little whore,” Endeavor rumbles. It’s deep enough to make Keigo’s soul shake. “I saw something in you during that first week.”
He shouldn’t continue to play this game. Keigo needs to wash his hands of this. Fuck the information that the president wants, fuck the mission, he just wants Endeavor gone. But he doesn’t move his feather from where it’s stabbed through the backrest of the couch.
“It was towards the end of your shift.” Endeavor’s voice is melted caramel: hot, smooth, and dangerous. “You were tired. A man tried his luck with you on stage. Touching you. Squeezing you.”
For some reason, a chill rolls down Keigo’s spine at the tone in Endeavor’s voice. The promise of violence is strong, but Keigo somehow can’t help but think it’s not directed at him.
“Your patience ran visibly thin. Then, you looked at me.”
With a jerk, Keigo is pressed flat against Endeavor’s chest, half-hard cock slipping against his silk button-up. He clenches his jaw to keep a moan behind his teeth.
“You looked at me and all I could see was blood,” Endeavor purrs. “You wanted to kill me just as bad as I wanted to wring that pretty little neck.”
“I still want to kill you,” Keigo points out, ignoring how breathless he’s become. Their faces are closer now. Keigo looks down at him, still looming, still dangerous.
“Believe me,” Endeavor breathes. Heat blooms across Keigo’s neck. “The urge to break your wings and watch you writhe in pain is difficult to ignore.”
“Sadist.” Why does that sound playful? Why is Keigo getting harder?
“Perhaps.” Huge, calloused hands slide over the ample, firm curve of Keigo’s ass and grip his cheeks with burning fingertips.
This time, Keigo can’t silence his moan.
“Tonight,” Endeavor continues as if his hands aren’t tearing Keigo apart. “When you saw little Toshi, satiated and content on my lap… I saw that same look.”
The force that possessive rage stabs him with is startling. Keigo snarls and shoves their foreheads so firmly together that his teeth rattle.
“I wanted to kill you. He’s just a boy,” Keigo lies.
“No, I don’t think you do. At least, not at that moment.” Endeavor’s face tilts up and as he speaks, his hands roam further down on Keigo’s ass, and holds his cheeks in firm hands. “You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”
Keigo’s heart fills his throat with indignant rage and denial.
“How dare you—”
“You nearly broke your pole,” Endeavor taunts with sharp teeth brushing Keigo’s bottom lip. “You wanted to tear that boy apart and take your rightful place, perched in my lap like the harlot you are.”
Keigo snarls and he can feel a few strands of Endeavor’s hair rip from his scalp as his grip tightens.
“Well, you’ve gotten what you wished for,” Endeavor murmurs, and his words feel like fire on Keigo’s lips. “He’s gone and you are here. Naked. Wanting—”
Endeavor’s mouth is nearly as hot as his words. Steam leaks out from between their lips as Keigo devours his monster. Their teeth click together painfully as Endeavor opens his mouth to allow Keigo further inside.
Kissing Endeavor is like kissing a forge. It’s hot and Keigo can taste iron on his breath. He gasps for air between kisses before diving right back in. He sucks on Endeavor’s tongue, biting it until the murderer snarls.
And he’s hard. He’s so hard against Endeavor’s firm belly, against the silk shirt.
He hates this.
He loves it.
He wants to be bruised and beaten and punished for what he’s doing—because, fuck, he can’t stop himself.
Endeavor grips his ass cheeks and all logical thought leaves Keigo’s mind. One fingertip drags against Keigo’s hole, rubbing hard at the whorl of soft muscle. It slips inside even as dry as it is; just enough to make Keigo keen against the hot brand of Endeavor’s tongue.
“Six weeks,” Endeavor snarls against his lips. “Six weeks of watching you bare everything to men who don’t value you.”
Between gentle pants, Keigo scoffs and glares down at Endeavor’s intense look with half-lidded eyes. He’s serious. There’s something hungry and dangerous and exciting in his eyes. Leather squeals as Keigo pulls his feather free.
“And what makes you different?” Keigo hisses as he draws the sharp end of his feather across Endeavor’s jaw—just hard enough to kiss skin and hair.
The world spins and Keigo’s back meets the hard surface of the stage. Every bit of air bursts from his lungs at the impact and for a second, he lies there dazed as he realizes just how fast Endeavor moved.
These last six weeks have been a war of attrition and Keigo has lost.
He’s pinned to the stage like a butterfly, Endeavor’s meaty paw around his neck and his wide hips forcing themselves between Keigo’s trembling thighs. He’s hard in his slacks; Keigo can feel that now. The long length of Endeavor’s shaft is pressing snugly against his balls.
Wide, glassy eyes roll in their sockets for a moment before focusing on Endeavor’s face. Blue is nearly overtaken by the black of his pupil. He’s hungry. A wolf pinning their meal.
“I see you. I know you,” Endeavor snarls and grabs Keigo’s hand as the boy tries to claw his face. A big thumb rubs almost tenderly at the center of his palm. “I see the way you yearn for blood and the joy you feel when you’re the smartest one in the room.”
Keigo snarls, clawing at Endeavor’s arm with his other hand. Those fingers just tighten on the column of his throat until he’s wheezing and his hips are bucking.
“I see you for the bird of prey you are.” Endeavor grunts as he rocks his hips forward and they hiss as their cocks bump through the fabric of Endeavor’s slacks. “And I know you would be beautiful with blood on your talons and skin between your teeth.”
Round pupils sharpen into pinpricks of black in a sea of gold. Keigo stares at Endeavor, through Endeavor, and snares the man’s shirt with his nails—his talons. Expensive fabric shreds beneath sharpened keratin and the furry expanse of Endeavor’s chest is bared to the stale, cum-stained air of the Velvet Room.
“Fuck me,” Keigo snarls between gasping, wheezing breaths.
“Freak,” Endeavor bites back.
“Fuck me.”
---
Keigo’s body has been stretched to its limits.
Toes curl against expensive sheets as Endeavor pulls out slow. The rim of Keigo’s entrance is aching and slippery. It pulls with every inch of Endeavor’s cock and he feels like he’s being turned inside out. Iron coats his tongue, blood still fresh from when his face connected with the hotel wall when Endeavor dragged him into the room, naked and snarling. One of his molars feels loose.
“That’s it,” Endeavor groans as he shoves Keigo’s throbbing face into the executive suite’s bedsheets. “So fucking tight.”
Everybody stared when Endeavor pulled Keigo from the Velvet Room and out of the club. They watched as his wings flapped and his naked, aroused body shimmered with sweat and cum. They watched as Endeavor held him by his neck and threw him into the back of his car.
And no one did a thing. They knew that interfering with Endeavor would leave them dead. Only, they thought they would be burned alive when, really, Keigo would have stabbed them all the same if anyone dared to be a white knight.
“Please,” Keigo gasps as the fat head of Endeavor’s cock stretches his trembling hole further. “Oh fuck, please!”
Horribly, he wants this. The bruises and marks littering his body feel like trophies. Mine, his brain roars, feral and wild. Endeavor Todoroki is his. No one else has the deep, purpling grooves of his fingertips. Not even that little whore Toshi.
No one has their bodies filled with Endeavor’s burning seed; their souls cauterized from the inside by this monster.
Their skin slaps wet together as Endeavor shoves his cock into Keigo’s small body. The spy howls, wings flaring as pain and pleasure mix. Cum from the first time Endeavor spilled into his needy hole is leaking out, dripping down his balls, and making the slide of Endeavor’s cock noisy and messy.
“Disgusting slut,” Endeavor taunts as he grips Keigo’s thigh and yanks his leg to the side so he can stuff his cock in further. It’s in Keigo’s goddamn throat.
“Yeah,” Keigo groans as he paws at his half-hard, exhausted, sloppy cock. “Yeah—fuck!” The curse is high and tight, overwhelmed from the two orgasms he’s already had as he squeezes his dick in a firm grasp.
Endeavor is fucking hard and deep into his body. He rearranges his guts thoroughly, leaving nothing untouched, unmarked. One of his hands slides around Keigo’s waist to push at where Endeavor’s cock makes the soft skin of his belly bulge obscenely.
He fucks like a beast, hunching over Keigo’s body and slamming viciously inside. Their balls and thighs slap together, filling the room with a symphony of debauchery.
“Clo—uhn,” Keigo loosens a groan from deep in his gut as Endeavor wraps his arms around his waist and drags his body back onto his cock. The angle is just right and those arms are making his bruises sing. “C-Close—”
Behind him, Endeavor breathlessly scoffs and shoves in deep before grinding in a delicious circle that has Keigo squealing at the pressure inside.
“You’re not even hard,” Endeavor growls and slaps Keigo’s hand away from his dick so he can grab it and his balls in one massive hand. He squeezes and Keigo yelps.
“I-I can’t—fuck—choke me,” Keigo sobs as he shallowly jerks his hips back on Endeavor’s cock. “Choke me, bite me, please!”
Red, bloody teeth marks already line Keigo’s shoulders and chest. Each red nipple is encircled by one. Keigo is a mess.
“Fucking masochist,” Endeavor taunts against the top curve of his spine, right between his splayed wings.
Soft skin gives way as Keigo shoots a feather out to score Endeavor’s arm. Similar cuts litter his arms and shoulders—one even mars his cheek. All of them are deep enough to drip blood.
“Hurt me,” Keigo snarls and reaches back to drag his talons up Endeavor’s ribs. He can feel hot iron trickle onto his skin and the way Endeavor gives a deep, chest-rattling groan has him nearly cumming just from the sound alone.
But he gets what he wants. Endeavor’s rough fingertips dig into the bruised sides of Keigo’s neck and squeeze so tight that golden eyes roll back. Teeth stained pink with blood dig into the curve of a tawny shoulder and—that’s it.
It’s dry. Nothing comes out of Keigo’s worn-out body, but pleasure explodes through it nonetheless. His entire body spasms, ecstasy like lightning through each muscle. He might scream, Keigo’s not sure.
He’s only just coming back from that faraway place when he hears Endeavor’s voice growling against the red, puffy skin of Keigo’s neck.
“Mine.”
Lava pours into Keigo’s belly as Endeavor shoves in deep and spills his seed. It hurts, like a bad stomach ache, but Keigo still warbles out a pathetic moan. His voice is rough and ragged. When he coughs, he tastes blood on his tongue.
The dizziness hasn’t left his brain by the time Endeavor pulls out. He barely feels it when the man begins to stroke a washcloth up and down his body, between his trembling legs, over his bloody shoulders.
When Endeavor pulls him close and tucks him under his chin, Keigo’s eyes flutter with bone-deep contentment.
He wants this man to bleed and hurt for what he’s done. He wants to capture him, throw him in a prison cell, and throw away the key. He would do anything to see Endeavor staring at him from the other side of a one-way window in Tartarus, wondering if he’s even there or not.
But for now… he wants to bask in his body’s warmth and let it soothe his aching body.
Just for now.
---
When Keigo wakes up the next morning, the hotel bed is cold.
At first, he’s unable to get up. Muscles give out when he tries and the cuts and bruises on his body scream at him for the attempt. The worst part is his hips. It feels like they’ve been run over by a tractor. Even moving his wings feels like hell.
And, of course, Enji Todoroki is gone.
Keigo squeezes the back of his throbbing neck with gentle hands, trying to coax the stiffness from his muscles. As he twists his head this way and that, he spots something on the pillow beside him.
A note.
You and I are cut from the same cloth, dove. You know where to find me.
Words written in stark red ink stare back at him. Keigo scowls at it. Logically, he knows that he has no information about where Endeavor or his group are located.
But somehow, he knows that they’ll find each other again.