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In the split second when Dabi realizes how utterly fucked he is, he thinks about dominoes falling. So many things had to go wrong in a very specific order for him to end up here. Fate or karma or whoever lined up these cosmic dominoes of fuckery to specifically ruin his life, must be laughing their ass off right about now.
***
First domino: two weeks ago he got into a little scuffle on a quiet street corner with some thugs with more muscles than sense. They thought they could intimidate the League of Villains’ recruiter into rethinking his stance, after he already told them to piss off and take their weak-ass quirks with them. When one of them punctuated his tantrum by spitting a mouthful of quick-hardening slime in his direction, splattering his boots in the process, Dabi may have gotten a little annoyed. Instead of just roasting them and being done with it, he decided to play with his food.
He learned an important lesson that day: don't get into fights right by a ledge with no railing, even if it's a sure win. After having his fun, Dabi made quick work of the two biggest guys and then turned to eliminate the last straggler. The coward was already running for his life to the other end of the alley.
As a wall of blue fire roared after him, the guy screamed in fear, turned around, and lashed out in sheer despair. Right before he was engulfed, he pushed a wave of air back in Dabi's direction. A simple wind quirk, nothing special. It hardly felt like more than a good shove.
It made Dabi take a step backwards. Over the ledge, right into nothing.
The thug’s dying shrieks from inside the flames drowned out Dabi’s surprised yelp when he fell. He put out his arms instinctively to catch himself. He landed three feet down with an undignified thud, and a scream of pain when he broke both his wrists.
Second domino: a wanted villain can't exactly waltz into a hospital and get fixed up with healing quirks and expensive medicine. Heroes can drag their half-dead carcasses to the nearest first aid and be back on the scene within a day. Hell, one time when he was still Touya, he'd seen Endeavor break his arm on live TV, and he was healed up in time to finish his fucking shift.
Only heroes get special treatment like that. People like Dabi have to get creative when they're injured, and not be too picky.
So, Twice took Dabi to a veterinarian. It sounds funny, until you have two broken wrists and nowhere else to go. Then you're just grateful to see anyone with a medical background.
The woman was an old friend of Twice and could be trusted. She'd fixed up the Leaguers half a dozen times already, like last month when she put stitches in a nasty stab wound in Toga's arm. Dabi walked out of her office with a sore asscheek from getting jabbed with a comically large syringe, and both arms encased in white plaster casts from his elbows to his knuckles. That's one way of putting some humility into a guy.
Three weeks. Even with the healing shot the lady eyeballed for him from whatever medication she had on-hand; three weeks. And no using his quirk, she warned him. His arms needed to rest. Not that he felt particularly inclined to flame on. Even after dipping extra deep into his stash of pills, the pain was no joke. And Dabi knows a thing or two about pain.
It did mean he was gonna be effectively useless and disarmed for three whole weeks. Fucking fantastic.
Third domino: with two broken wrists and no quirk to defend himself with, Dabi was confined to the League hideout for his own safety. They were squatting in the condemned remains of what had once been a nice country house, before it got ravaged by some disaster and was left to rot.
(Is it normal to relate to a building? Probably not. Add that to his list of issues.)
Instead of Dabi's usual shtick of coming and going as he pleased, he was now stuck in the bedroom with the fewest cracks in the wall, with Toga trying to play nurse.
It drove him insane. Not just the loss of freedom, he also hated being the only one not allowed to go on missions. He never cared for those recruitment jobs, until he was told he couldn't go because he was injured. And no, of course he didn't elaborate on why those comments felt like fire on his skin. He just glared at Shigaraki and kicked his bedroom door closed so hard the whole house shook.
For the time being, his fellow Leaguers (friends, just call them your friends, you fucking coward) thought it considerate to take care of him as much as they could. They let him sleep instead of waking him up for meetings. As a result, Dabi was constantly out of the loop. He only saw the others when one or two of them were assigned to stay on base with him, like fucking babysitters. The first week he wasn't even allowed to fix his own meals, since he could barely move two fingers on each hand. Being served his bowl at the table like a child made him grind his teeth until his jaw ached.
It didn't matter that they meant well. It didn't matter that, if he had suffered an injury like this a year ago when he was still on his own, the consequences would have been several magnitudes more unpleasant. Dabi simply hated being treated like he was helpless.
(Them being right about that made it so much worse. He could barely go to the bathroom by himself. But God forbid he’d ever need help with that. He'd set himself on fire before asking Twice to come pull his pants up.)
So he stubbornly figured out ways to do things by himself, and he snapped at anyone who tried to help. So by week two, they mostly left him to his own devices. And quietly put bowls of food in the fridge for him.
Fourth domino: after a few days, Dabi learned that there was one more task that became impossible with both hands in casts. After a week, it was uncomfortable. By day ten, it was on his mind pretty much round the clock, and it only made him more unpleasant to be around.
Christ, what he wouldn't give to be able to jack off.
Fifth domino: since he was supposed to spend his days sulking around the house with nothing to do, except struggle to hold a book or take a shower, Dabi didn't see any need to keep his cell phone charged. On day three, in a fit of Fuck Everything, he had chucked the thing somewhere in his room, probably cracking the screen even further, and let the battery die. It's not like anyone needed him for anything, and if they did he couldn't fucking do shit anyway, not without his flames. He didn't need a phone to remind him of how useless he was, he could manage that perfectly fine by himself, thank you.
Sixth domino: with Dabi out of commission, Compress took over the responsibility of checking out potential recruits.
And it seems like their magic man could have learned something from Dabi about “never let your guard down, light shit on fire first and ask questions later”, because Dabi sure as shit would have never dragged home a cloud of goddamn sex pollen.
Which brings him to tonight, and the final domino that crushed Dabi like a cartoon anvil. He isn't sure how exactly it all went down, since he was asleep and nobody bothered to wake him, but with the benefit of hindsight he'd hazard a guess:
He was woken up by unholy shrieking and clattering coming from the living room. He had no idea what time it was, but outside his window the sun had already set again. After struggling to put his sweatpants on, Dabi hobbled downstairs just in time to catch a glimpse of one of Ujiko's slimy black Nomu portals closing. Immediately, the house was dead quiet.
Great, so they left him all alone. Which meant that there wasn't any immediate danger here or they wouldn't have left him , but something was going down that was big enough for the entire League to portal out without so much as a goodbye.
Fantastic. He should probably count himself lucky they didn't forget him in a hot car.
He grumbled his way over to the fridge to scavenge for leftovers and found another one of Toga’s lovingly prepared bowls set aside for him. It was hard to stay mad at her, but never let it be said that Dabi wasn't an overachiever. He'd find something to bitch about.
With the bowl of curry balanced delicately between his fingertips, he turned towards the counter, meaning to heat up his dinner in their shitty microwave that made everything smell like burning plastic. That was when he noticed the coat and top hat.
Compress didn't usually leave his stuff lying around, that was more Toga and Twice’s area of expertise. It was odd to see the long tan coat haphazardly thrown over their counter, like it was taken off and flung away without a thought. But what did Dabi care? He just wanted to get to the damn microwave.
Seventh domino: moving that fucking coat.
So he maneuvered the bowl to his left hand and used his right to awkwardly scoop the coat out of the way. It fell to the ground, throwing up a cloud of dust.
Pink dust.
Pink, glittery dust that seemed to rush up to meet Dabi and hit his nose and mouth with a wave of overwhelming sweetness.
He got maybe three seconds of confusion before the heat began to build in his chest, then shooting down into his groin. And the pieces fell into place.
“Oh shit, Compress, you fucking idiot-”
Then he doubled over and dropped his bowl, splattering curry all over the kitchen.
***
The heat. Oh god, the heat. It's nothing like his flames. This feels like his body is turning into molten glass. Everything feels gooey and glowing and like he's about to disintegrate into a syrupy puddle of lava on the floor.
It hurts, but it's a slow kind of hurt. It drags on, stretching him out, scraping him open. It's so bad it knocks his legs out from underneath him, leaving him writhing on the cold tiles. At least fire burns quickly.
His crawling journey from the kitchen to the living room feels like it takes years instead of minutes. He can't stand up. He moves like a rock sliding through the desert. Sweat drips down his scalp and pearls at his temples. His arms ache from dragging his dead weight across the floor. The plaster from his casts leaves little scribbles on the scuffed floorboards, marking his path.
There's no way he's making it up the stairs to his bedroom. He doubts he could even hoist himself onto the couch. He makes it to the scratchy wool carpet before he collapses, body wracked with shivers like he's running a fever. When he turns over onto his back, the front of his sweats is so tented it almost looks comical.
Focus. Try to think, for as long as you still have your wits. What happened, and what do we do now?
Part of it has become quite obvious. Compress must have gotten caught off-guard by a sex pollen quirk, and in his panic the idiot rushed home to the hideout. The others must have grabbed him to take him somewhere safe. But when he threw his pollen-covered coat off, he inadvertently set a trap for the one unsuspecting League member who was left behind.
Another wave of heat nearly flattens Dabi. An unhinged version of his own voice starts running circles through his mind, ranting and raving.
Fuck me, oh please, fuck me. Tongue, cock, pussy, anything. Gotta come, somebody touch me, I need it inside me, fuck-
He moans, his back arching off the carpet. He tries to cup himself through his sweats, a desperate attempt to find relief by way of his fingertips sticking out of his casts. Panting, keening, he tries to reach so he can palm himself, to create any kind of grip, but his wrists can't bend that way. The clumsy touch with the rough, heavy plaster only serves to make the ache worse.
The quirk stutters inside him, like it's surprised by the holdup. A thousand forks scrape across a chalkboard.
No, no, no, more. Oh please, let me come. God, it hurts, give me something…
The cause might be clear, but what to do next is a different question. Dabi hasn't had any prior run-ins with a sex pollen quirk. All he knows is what everyone knows: they make you so horny you’ll do just about anything to get off, and the more you try to resist the worse it gets. The powerful ones can cloud your mind almost like hypnosis, or wreck your body with fever-like pains until you comply. It's said that the painful ones are so bad, people will drop and try to get off right where they're standing.
Shit, this one must have been strong if only the residue on Compress’ coat was enough to mess him up this badly.
Distantly, he wonders if the others are okay. They probably took Compress to Ujiko’s, which is the safest place for him right now. Isolated, no heroes, no civilians. And Nomu require all kinds of isolation equipment and sedation. Plus, if anyone knows how to control and suppress quirks and their effects, it's that old bastard.
When Compress waltzed into the hideout covered in pink dust, they must have immediately rushed him through a portal along with everyone who was in the room with him, in case they needed to get decontaminated. Everyone knows you don't fuck around with mind-altering quirks that can spread like a virus. Of course they didn’t have time to check on Dabi-
Don't think about them. There's nothing you can do anyway. You. What about you?
Gotta come, need to fuck, need to get fucked-
Dabi makes a sound like a wild animal caught in a snare. His dick aches in a way that makes him worry it's gonna explode like an overinflated party balloon if he doesn't get some relief soon.
But no matter what he does, no matter how he writhes and whines and paws at his dick with his useless hands, it's not nearly enough. He can't think of a way out. His brain sizzles against the inside of his skull like a sunny side up egg.
His whine turns into a desperate giggle, until he's laughing so hard he's crying. Oh, he never imagined this would be how he lost what was left of his mind.
But isn't it a little funny? What are the odds, truly? Nobody else would ever be this unlucky.
Who else but Dabi would ever be stranded in an empty house, with no quirk, no way to call for help, dosed with sex pollen, and unable to touch himself?
If this is how I die, I'm gonna be so pissed.
***
Time stretches like burning sugar, hot and dripping. In an attempt to find even a modicum of comfort, Dabi manages to hoist himself onto the lumpy couch, and the workout leaves him panting for breath. The fever-like waves of heat and cold that bear down on his already wrecked body leave him either shivering or tearing at his clothes. He ends up just ripping off his shirt and sweats and pulling the ratty blanket that was draped over the back of the stained couch over himself.
He can’t get off, yet he’s so hard it hurts. Even the faintest touch has him crying out, because it aches so bad but it’s also not nearly enough. In his desperation he pulls his boxers down to his thighs and tries to palm his drooling cock through the blanket by rubbing his casts against his crotch. It’s something, but still a far cry from what he needs.
Whining, lightheaded, and with actual dread creeping up the back of his mind, he ends up clamping a pillow between his thighs and rutting into that. It’s just enough to take away the edge of pain, pulling him back to a point where he’s merely a flushed and writhing mess, flailing on the couch like a turtle flipped on its back, trying to fuck a pillow like his life depends on it.
Gotta come. Gotta come or I’ll combust. I might recreate Sekoto Peak if the quirk swallows my mind completely and I can’t make the pain stop.
Just as he’s considering rolling off the couch and breaking his casts off by banging them against the floor, because who cares if he shatters every bone in his arms, nothing matters as long as he gets to come-
“Hello? Nobody kill me, please, I swear this isn't a raid.” A terribly familiar voice calls from outside the front door, punctuated by a polite knock. “I come in peace.”
Dabi's eyes open wide in horror. He bolts upright on the couch, simultaneously covering himself with the blanket. He peeks over the backrest and watches the door creak open.
Oh no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant-
The first thing he sees is the edge of a red wing, followed by that stupid blond head peeking around the edge of the door.
Oh, god damnit.
“Hawks-” he chokes out. “Don't come any closer!” The hero freezes in the doorway. His wings flare out at the sound of fear in Dabi’s voice.
Oh shit, if he gets a hit of the pollen as well-
Oh, but then we could-
And he shuts down that line of thinking as quickly as it came up.
Another wave slams into Dabi and he can barely choke out the words. “Quirk- pollen- in the kitchen.”
The main thing to note about Hawks, and which Dabi can never afford to forget when he’s around him, is how smart and well-trained he actually is and how well he hides it. If it was anyone else, Dabi would be a lot more worried. But Hawks doesn’t ask stupid questions, he just assesses the situation and shifts into hero mode.
“Got it.”
Despite the quirk effects eating through his body like a forest fire, Dabi forgets his predicament for a moment and just watches Hawks. The hero needs barely a second to pinpoint the problems in order of urgency, and he shoots out a bunch of feathers. In the blink of an eye they sweep through the kitchen, snatching up the coat and hat, and gathering up the remaining pollen particles like an enchanted feather duster.
Hawks stays by the door as his feathers clear the kitchen and zoom away, taking the pollen with them, out of the house. It leaves them once again in silence, broken only by Dabi’s labored breathing.
“The quirk user. Are they still here?” Hawks asks, voice disturbingly level. He’s already holding a primary in each hand.
“No,” Dabi answers weakly. “Didn’t happen here.”
“Okay, then that should be all of it.” Hawks sends his swords back into his wings, then turns his attention to Dabi. He’s still not moving closer. Smart bird, he won’t risk getting dosed. “You got any residue on you?”
“Don't know,” Dabi croaks, still peeking out over the couch, then he gasps and twitches, rolling his hips uncontrollably, pounding his fists helplessly against the cushions. He lets out a yelp when two feathers suddenly sweep over him, methodically checking all his glowing skin for more of the pink dust stuck to him.
Dabi isn’t sure how much Hawks can feel through his feathers when touching another person, but oh god they’re on him-
Yes yes yes touch me oh please touch me everywhere.
He grips the blanket tightly so that the feathery probes don't try to slip underneath, but they seem satisfied with sweeping his arms, chest, face and hair for pollen particles. The touch of the vanes, muted on his scars and shockingly bright on his living grafts… Fucking hell.
It's over quickly, but it’s plenty to have him nearly choke on a moan from the sensation. Dear lord, he's almost grateful that he's too messed up to be truly embarrassed. At most he's pissed that this will ruin the balance of power he has with the pretty bird.
Yes, Hawks, pretty bird, fuck the pretty bird-
Dabi squeezes his thighs together as hard as he can to try and choke his dick into submission. No way is he gonna sacrifice the reputation he built out of power and fear by begging Japan’s most eligible bachelor hero for a mercy fuck. He would rather flame on like a funeral pyre.
He vaguely registers one feather zooming away with his discarded clothes. Next thing he knows, another feather insistently bumps into his shoulder, trying to pass him a big glass of water.
“Drink,” Hawks says, still standing by the front door. His wings are still moving, with feathers flitting around, indicating that he hasn’t stopped scanning their surroundings for threats.
Dabi leans towards the offered glass. He gulps the contents down in one long pull with help from the feather, spilling rivulets down his chin and neck. Only now does he realize how thirsty he was. Panting, he raises a shaking arm in what hopefully reads as ‘ Thanks, I’m good now, you can go and forget that you saw any of this, please let me retain some dignity.’
Instead, he hears Hawks take a step forward, closing the front door behind him. Groaning, Dabi shuts his eyes and falls backwards onto the couch again. He clenches the pillow in his grip, grinding his teeth when his pollen-addled dick pulses with interest.
“May I?” Hawks asks. Dabi lets out a wordless sound, too tired to keep fighting the direction this evening has taken.
The hero approaches the couch. Dabi quickly checks if the blanket is still covering him, but he can’t do anything about his flushed appearance, or the twitching of his hips as they rut upward with the smallest thrusts possible.
They look at each other for a moment. From down here, Hawks seems to tower over him, even more so with his wings still stuck in raptor-on-high-alert mode. They’re raised off his back, tensed up like claws with knife-edged feathers glinting everywhere in his plumage. In a flash, Dabi understands how Hawks became the number two at his young age, and why Fukuoka is one of the safest cities in the nation under his watch. Birdie has a strong PR face, but he’s actually terrifying when he drops that smile and everything about him turns sharp.
But there’s no one here to fight. Just a sad, sweaty villain sticking to the vinyl couch, and slowly Hawks lowers his wings and relaxes his stance as he takes in the sight. Dabi prepares himself to see confusion and disgust, for Hawks to stutter out an apology when he realizes what exactly he walked in on and hurry the fuck out of the house.
“I was gonna ask Are you okay but that feels redundant,” Hawks says dryly. He looks around the empty living room. “Home alone?”
“What are you doing here?” Dabi rasps in response.
“Looking for you, duh.” Hawks tilts his head at him. “You fell off the face of the planet two weeks ago. You didn't answer any of my texts, you missed our meetup tonight, your phone keeps going to voicemail…” He casts his eyes down for a second and shrugs. “I was worried that something had happened. Or that you were ditching me. So I decided to take a risk and come over to see what’s up.”
Hysteria bubbles in his chest for a second. Yeah, something is up, alright-
“How did you even know where to find me? Who told you about this place?” Dabi knows he should be a lot more upset about that , but outrage will have to wait until he can direct blood to his brain again. Hawks huffs out a little laugh.
Hhhhhhh pretty laugh pretty smile pretty mouth for fucking- fucking stop it.
“Oh, ye of little faith. Always underestimating me.” The hero flashes him a crooked grin halfway between proud and nervous. “I've known where you live for weeks.”
Dabi drops his head back. He can’t do much except laugh at that. Should have expected as much from Hawks, really.
“Of course,” he sighs. Maybe he’s even slightly impressed. Annoyed but impressed.
“Hey, you know where I live,” Hawks argues back. “Figured it was only fair. And at least I never broke in to eat all your chips.”
Dabi laughs again, actually amused at that memory.
“You're…” He interrupts himself with another moan. He’s rapidly losing bandwidth to his rational mind, which should be worrying. “You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”
“Nope,” Hawks grins and shakes his head. “Now that we're done with the pleasantries, am I allowed to ask what happened?” His face goes serious again when he nods at Dabi’s casts. “You broke something?”
“My wrists. Two weeks ago.”
“I see.” Hawks nods as he adds up the story in his head. He gestures in the direction of the kitchen. “So to summarize: Mister Compress got ambushed, brought the pollen home, he got taken away for help, and in the confusion you got stuck here by yourself, dosed on the residue, and injured. Did I get that right?”
Dabi bares his teeth in the meanest approximation of a grin he's capable of.
“Such a smart hero. So fucking annoying.” His voice breaks when a shiver runs through him. “But yes. Can barely move. Can't use my hands. And my phone's upstairs, don't know where.”
Hawks hums, then takes another step closer as he digs through his pockets. Dabi tenses up and tries to crawl away from him, hackles raised like a cornered feral cat. The potential danger of the situation finally pierces through the horny daze in his mind. He even stops rubbing his dick against the pillow.
No, don’t stop! Hurts, hurts, hurts!
“That wasn't an invitation to get closer, pigeon. I may not look like much right now, but I can still take us both down in a raging inferno if I have to,” he snarls, hoping that the pain isn’t too visible on his face. “So how about you back the hell off and go home.”
Hawks pulls out his phone and holds it out.
“You can use mine to call the League, and have them come get you.”
Dabi cuts off the rest of his threats. He stares from the phone to Hawks’ ridiculously sincere face and back, dumbfounded and a little tripped up. He swallows and shakes his head.
“No.”
“Dabi…” Hawks frowns at him. Good grief, is he starting to look worried?
“I know where they took Compress. I can't-” Dabi takes an uneven breath. He thinks about Ujiko's lab. He imagines getting sedated, and waking up under bright lights, possibly restrained. He can already feel the fear of not knowing for certain that his body won't be changed again, or how much time might be stolen from him this time. “They can't help me there. I don't want it.”
Hawks sighs, but puts the phone away.
“Okay. I get it.” He looks Dabi up and down, then uses a feather to scoop up the empty water glass. “First time hit with a lust quirk?” he asks, as casually as he'd ask about the weather, shattering any hope Dabi had of pretending like they don’t both know exactly what kind of pollen those were.
“Ahh.” Dabi's head rolls back. He can't stop himself from gripping the pillow tighter and pressing it into his crotch. With every passing second, the quirk becomes more oppressive. “Do I look like I wanna talk about it?”
The feather returns from the kitchen with a refill. This time, Hawks holds the glass himself and helps Dabi drink. The hero seems careful not to touch him and still makes no move to leave, and Dabi isn't sure whether he's grateful or mad about either. He just glares across the rim as he drinks.
“Sex pollen is nasty stuff, but rarely fatal if you don't get a full dose. You're not completely out of it, which tells me that the dose you got was potent but small. So if you don't want to go get help, you’ll just have to…” Hawks shrugs and makes a crude gesture for jacking off, which looks hilariously out of place on him. “Ride it out.”
“Can't,” Dabi replies shakily and lifts his wrists. “My hands.” He keens when the fever hits him again.
There's panic building in his chest the likes of which he hasn’t felt in ages. The word fatal is pounding in his scattered mind like a steam engine. He didn't know those quirks could be-
“Fuck, I'm gonna die.”
“You're not gonna die,” Hawks shushes him.
“Sure feels like it,” Dabi snaps back. He laughs without humor. Something warm seeps from the corner of his eye. “I'm barely alive as it is. If this gets much worse, something’s gonna pop.”
He’s never one for whining or appearing weak in any way, but the syrupy ache in his guts is twisting him up in ways he has never felt. It makes him feel cut up and hollowed out and… lonely. And now Hawks is here, and he’s looking at him and he brought him water and his stupid feathers were so soft on his overheated skin-
Touch me, oh fuck, take me apart, make me come, it hurts so bad and I can’t stop it, and I don't want to die. I don't want to die, don't let me die, not like this.
Hawks looks like he wants to argue, but then he puts the last pieces together.
“Oh. Your wrists… You haven't been able to touch yourself in a while, huh?”
Dabi hisses between his teeth and shoots Hawks his most venomous glare. He nods yes. The hero winces in sympathy.
“Damn. Yeah, that'll definitely make it worse.”
“Shit.” Whatever cutting remark Dabi had wanted to make gets lost in another sharp jab of pressure in his guts. His hands are shaking, the fear is mounting and tangling itself up with the all-consuming lust raging through him. His whole body feels like it's about to explode like a firework. “I can't- I’m gonna-”
“You're not gonna die,” Hawks repeats. “As long as you keep calm and ride it out, it'll go away eventually. Just gotta find a way to deal with it without your hands.” He slips out of his coat, tosses it over a nearby chair, and plops down on the carpet next to Dabi. “I'll stay with you. You'll be okay.”
Despite everything, that makes Dabi laugh for real. Hawks looks so sincere when he says it, with the way he looks Dabi in the eye like this is a normal fucking thing, and how he positioned himself so that he's only looking at his face and not his writhing body.
“Why do you care? If I croak, the League might have a vacancy.”
The corner of Hawks' mouth ticks up. When he leans forward, his wings raise up until they form a canopy over the both of them.
“Tempting. But I'd miss your delightful company.”
For a moment he forgets about the pain. All he can think about is Hawks’ eyes on him and how the hero never averts his gaze, not even now.
Hawks doesn't even blush as he returns Dabi's stare. Of course, he’s a hero. He has probably seen all of this before and worse, and it’s his job to compartmentalize. It probably means nothing to him to see a villain doped up on sex pollen. All he sees is an opportunity to worm his way into the League. Dabi should follow his example and just… ride it out, as he said. He’ll have plenty of time to overthink later.
Yes, he should go along with whatever Hawks is playing at, just for tonight. Hell, Dabi might die if he doesn't come, so what’s the harm in giving up an inch of his guard if it gets him through this? He’ll figure out later if that glint in Hawks’ eyes is him scanning for an exploitable weakness, and if he needs to burn him for it.
Or it could just be that he thinks it’s hot to watch you try to jack off. You sure seem to enjoy the idea.
His dick jumps at the quiet accusation.
Heh. Pervert.
So Dabi bites the bullet, and with his eyes firmly locked on Hawks’, he clamps the pillow between his thighs and grinds upwards. A groan of relief rolls off his tongue when the pressure ebbs away ever so slightly.
Hawks nods. Go on, then.
Well, damn. I guess we’re doing this.
He sets a careful pace. It's still not enough, but at least looking at Hawks gives him something pretty to focus on.
Yes yes yes, pretty, gotta fuck him, bet he takes it like a champ, bet he rides a cock like it’s his job-
“Fuck,” he breathes as he sinks further into the daze, and the no-holds-barred horny part of his brain plants itself firmly in the drivers seat. “You shouldn't sit so close. You're distracting me.”
Hawks tries not to smile. “Sorry about that.” He doesn’t move back.
“I'm serious. Looking at you-” He pauses to moan, because looking at Hawks’ mouth is enough to picture those lips all shiny with spit and stretched around his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut so he can finish his sentence. “It's actually making it worse.”
Well, that's not entirely true. It’s a different kind of bad, but only worse in the sense that it feels so good. Shit, Hawks really is pretty, and god knows that Dabi already has a sizable catalog of fantasies featuring the annoying bird, but nothing compares to this. And he’s about two stupid comments away from doing something about it.
“Hmm. This doesn’t look like it’s working for you.” Hawks narrows his eyes at him and draws a circle motion in the air. “Turn over on your stomach. Try to find some more friction.” And well, Hawks is the pro.
Dabi turns over under the blanket, balances his weight on his knees and straddles the pillow. He keeps one arm braced against the couch and uses the other to awkwardly position the pillow. When he rocks forward with his cock trapped against his stomach, the leaking tip catches the friction just right.
It's instantly better. A long, shaky moan pours out of Dabi as he starts to grind into the pillow. His body aches for something barely out of reach, so he ruts harder. He keeps his eyes closed for as long as he can, but eventually he has to glance over at Hawks.
He's still there. He's still looking. His mouth hangs open just enough for Dabi to see a sliver of pink tongue rolling along a pointed canine. As their eyes meet, Hawks’ throat bobs and he swallows.
On me, on me, put it on me, put your fucking tongue on me oh my God-
“Fuuuuuck,” Dabi groans, panting open-mouthed as he tries to fuck himself to an orgasm right in front of the hottest hero in the nation, using a pillow like an improvised fleshlight. “This is legit torture. Why did it have to be you?”
Hawks grins and leans forward, eyes never leaving Dabi's face. His wings give an excited little flutter.
“Because I have excellent timing. My hero's intuition told me my favorite villain needed my help, so here I am. At your beck and call.”
Dabi laughs breathlessly and shakes his head. Sweat trails down the side of his face. The blanket is way too warm. He shrugs it off his shoulders, letting it slip dangerously low around his waist.
“Stop talking,” he grunts
“Why?” Hawks is still smiling at him.
“Because…” He huffs and bares his teeth in something between a grin and a snarl. “...If you keep saying shit like that, I'm gonna ask you to fuck me.”
Dabi spits the words right into that idiotic smirk. It’s a cosmically bad idea to give up this much ground to the hero, but he can’t fend it off any longer. He needs Hawks to fuck him through a dozen orgasms, more than he needs his next breath.
He stares into those golden eyes framed with hypnotic black raptor markings, and waits for the hero to seize his chance to have Dabi underneath him. Why else is he still here, why else is he looking at him like that? Hawks has wanted something from him since day one, and Dabi is finally offering. Daring him to take what he wants for once.
Power.
Because that is what we all want, right? Especially creatures like us, brimming with strength and forced into shackles.
You want to, I can tell. You like me like this, weak and at your mercy. You want me to thank you for the blessings of your dick, don't you? You want me to tell you I owe you one while your cum is dripping from my ass, good God you hero bastard fuck me.
Take me, hold me down, make me scream your name, fuck me until I can't stop coming and crying.
But instead of pouncing on this opportunity for a frenzied fuck disguised as a favor, Hawks shakes his head.
“Can't do that,” he says softly.
Dabi's chest contracts, followed by the shock of being wrong . Immediately, the pressure in his guts hurts twice as bad. The parts of his face that still have skin flush even darker than before. And he still can't stop riding that fucking pillow, because lust quirks are bullshit.
Before he can process this turn of events and regain his speech, Hawks puts a hand on the cast on his shaking arm.
“You're dosed. You can't consent like this.”
Wait, but- huh?
But I…
Ah, really?
An ugly laugh gurgles out of his throat. He punches the side of the couch in frustration and thrusts against the pillow until it hurts.
“You are such a goddamn hero. The one time I have a use for you, and you gotta get all morally superior on me.”
Hawks winces. His thumb sweeps over the back of Dabi's fingers sticking out of the cast, pressed into the pillow until they turn bone-white.
“Sorry.”
“Just say you don't want to fuck me, pigeon. I don't want your patronizing crap.”
“It’s not patronizing crap,” Hawks shakes his head. “I wouldn't be a very good hero if I took advantage of you like that.”
Dabi cackles, head thrown back. He rides the pillow even faster, anger nearly overtaking the quirk roiling inside him. The blanket slips off his waist, leaving him bare. Hawks doesn't even blink.
“When did I give you the impression that I wanted you to be a good hero, huh?” He grins, hoping that somehow the manic look on his face will change Hawks’ mind.
A feather lifts up the dropped blanket and places it back around Dabi's waist. His chest cramps again.
“A good person, then.”
“If you're just gonna sit there and do nothing, you can go!” Dabi barks. Overcome with a sudden aching need to cry, he tucks his face against the back of the couch. His body movements slow to broken thrusts. Hawks shushes him.
“I'm not gonna leave you alone like this. Hero or not, I’m not one to turn away from someone in need.”
Dabi screams in frustration.
“I'm asking you for what I need! Or do you want me to beg, is that it?”
That has to be it. That's the power he wants. Why else would Hawks torment him like this?
“Dabi.” Hawks reaches out and gently brushes the sweaty hair off his forehead, oh shit that feels good. “Just breathe. Are you getting close?”
With tears clouding his vision, he nods. He was close, before. Hawks makes a soft cooing noise at him and moves his hand to cup the side of Dabi’s face.
“Keep going. It'll help, I promise. You'll feel better once you get the first one out.”
“I can't!” he yells. “It's not enough like this. I need-”
He collapses, openly sobbing. It hurts too much, and he can't do this by himself. He goes over another ledge, and he falls and falls and falls.
“Hawks, please ! You're killing me!” He tries to grab the hero with his useless hands. “Anything you want, I swear. Just once, that’s all I need. I’ll be so, so good, I promise. You don't even have to look at me, you can pretend I'm someone else, I’ll never tell anyone-”
He’s dissolving, coming undone at the seams, and he’d give anything to make it stop. For one terrible second of clarity, he grasps the true depths of the dangers of lust quirks.
Anything-
“Dabi.” Hawks interrupts his hysterical babbling, yanks him upright and grabs his face. “Look at me.”
There's nowhere else to look. Blinking away tears, he looks into Hawks’ eyes, the pupils blown wide as craters. The hero is breathing like he just ran a mile. One hand cradles Dabi's jaw to keep his eyes on him, the other cards through his damp hair.
“You don't have to beg. I just don't want to hurt you, okay? I don't want you to cross your own lines when you can't think straight.”
Dabi mewls and twitches in surprise when there's suddenly a feather on his back. It pushes against him, adjusts his position, leads his hips into a fast but shallow rhythm.
“It’s alright. You're gonna come like this. And don’t say you can’t, I know you can,” Hawks whispers. His face is so close that Dabi can feel his breath on his own mouth. When he whines and tries to shake his head, Hawks’ thumb strokes along his scarred bottom lip.
“Yes, I know, it’s hard, but you're much too stubborn to fail. Aren't you? That's what I like about you. You keep going until the very end, and you always put on a show.” The hero’s voice is almost a purr. Goosebumps race down Dabi's back. “As long as I'm here, you’ll be okay. Because you like it when I look at you, don't you? I’ve noticed. And you would never give up in front of me. You want to come for me.” A soft little laugh. “I’m here, and I'm watching. So show me.”
A grenade strikes the immovable pressure in Dabi's guts. A scream rips out of him.
“Hawks, Hawks, Ha-aaaaah!”
In the last second before freefall, Dabi is hit by a memory of a late night on Hawks' couch, a few weeks before his fall. He'd snuck in via the balcony again, and the hero had let him stay. They'd talked their usual shit over the last half of the ocean documentary Hawks had been watching, and it had been dangerously close to normal. In that moment of sharing veiled threats and sharp smiles in the dark, Dabi had wondered if it could maybe happen. What it would take. What it would cost.
When he comes all over the pillow, he nearly bursts into flames. Only the exhaustion keeps his quirk at bay. The sudden change from pain and pressure to release and bliss feels like rising from the ocean floor to the surface in two seconds flat. Starbursts cloud his vision. His heart rattles against his ribs. He doesn't die, but he's fucking close, and that's speaking from experience.
Okay, well, it's better than self-immolation but holy shit.
Face down on the couch, sobbing his way through the aftershocks and awash with a level of pleasure that his haunted house of a body can barely distinguish from pain, Dabi slowly comes back to himself. He finds Hawks still next to him, petting his hair, muttering soft words he can't decipher.
He opens one hazy eye. The hero smiles at him and strokes his cheek when he notices.
“Was that okay?” he whispers. Dabi nods and clears his throat. His head feels less foggy already.
“In case you're wondering,” he rasps out, “I want it on record that I am okay with you talking me through an orgasm and watching me come my brains out when I've been blasted with pollen. Even though you're still annoying and morally superior.”
Chuckling, Hawks shakes his head.
“I’ll make a note of that.” Then he stands up. “Come on. I’ll take you to your room before it hits again.”
***
“Lust quirks are categorized as an Altered State quirk, an offshoot of Emitter quirks, and are meant to incapacitate an opponent by attacking them both physically and mentally. Altered State quirks shift a target's priorities, overriding even their most basic fight or flight instincts, until the quirk’s effect wears off or until the impulse has been sufficiently sated.”
Hawks rambles at Dabi while he leads him up the stairs. Dabi is naked, because what does it matter at this point? He's walking on unsteady legs, one arm over Hawks’ shoulder, the hero holding his waist. Hawks offered to carry him, but that's where Dabi drew the line. Besides, he needs to stretch his legs after all that.
He shuffles along with a large red wing hovering behind him like a living cape, in case his knees do give out. Just a safety precaution. But oh for the love of all that is unholy, if Birdbrain keeps brushing the tips of hundreds of feathers across Dabi’s bare skin with every step, he’s gonna go off again before they even make it to the second floor.
He nods along to the explanation, tries to ignore the wing shifting at his back just like he’s ignoring that maybe Hawks does want to fuck him, and lists the best known effects.
“Sleep. Fear. Hurt. Laugh. Rage. Literally go fuck yourself.”
Hawks chuckles in agreement.
“The pollen variety is considered extra dangerous, because the effects are so easy to spread to multiple people. Depending on the dose, there's no telling how long they'll last or how much awareness a target retains. Sedation is also not guaranteed to work, and the amount needed to knock out an affected individual might be more than their body can handle. So there’s really no easy fix. Which door?”
“Second on the left.”
Hawks drags him to his bedroom, ignores the mess of dirty clothes, snack wrappers and half empty cups littering the floor, and helps Dabi to his bed.
“There is a commonality in Altered State quirks with long-lasting effects, which are most of the pollen ones. A target can regain control for short stretches of time, after hitting a peak and before the effect ramps up again. Usually an opponent will use that window to get the hell outta dodge.” Hawks yaps on.
“That's probably how Compress got away.”
Hawks helps him lie down, then takes a seat on the floor like before. He folds his arms on the edge of the bed and leans his chin on top, smiling like he's having a great time. The lower halves of his wings pool around him on the floor when he lets them settle.
“Comfy?” he asks. Dabi scoffs.
“Like I got run over by a truck full of hormones.”
There’s more rustling, and a feather appears with another glass of water.
“Keep drinking. Dehydration and overheating are the most dangerous complications of being dosed with sex pollen. People have died after hours or even days in the throes of it, overexerting themselves while forgetting to eat or drink. Usually they’re the ones who were alone.”
Hawks stares at Dabi while he gulps down the water, holding the glass for him. A sudden shadow creeps over the hero’s face. “The League shouldn't have left you alone. Even if they couldn't have foreseen that this would happen, they never should have left you here in your current state.”
Hawks' free hand fidgets with the edge of one of Dabi's casts. He doesn't seem aware that he's doing it. Dabi wipes his mouth with his arm before lying down and quickly changing the too-delicate subject.
“You sure know a lot about lust quirks.”
“Have to. Part of the job.” Hawks makes a face. “Heroes have extensive contracts written up about what kind of treatments they consent to for anything that can go wrong on the job, with entire pages dedicated to Altered States. We're not even allowed in the field without consent forms and either an emergency contact person or a secure treatment facility on file, just on the off-chance that we’d ever get blasted with sex pollen.”
Oh. That's…
“Have you ever…” Dabi hesitates. There's something squirming inside his chest. “...taken a hit?”
“Once. About a year and a half ago,” Hawks admits. “It was kept out of the media, thank God. I don't need those questions from talk show hosts.”
“So who was your contact person?” Dabi asks, trying and failing to sound casual. Hawks chuckles and shakes his head.
“Nobody. I opted for the facility.” He leans in closer, an impish smirk on his pretty face. “I spent a day locked in a padded room, with every sex toy known to man at my disposal.”
Well. That sure isn’t a bad visual. Dabi lets his eyes drift half-closed and tries to picture it: Hawks, naked and sweaty and feral with lust, those giant wings sharp and fanned out, while he's riding and fucking his way through an assortment of toys, and his eyes blazing like that one time he nearly cut Dabi’s throat-
“Mmm. I guess there are worse fates. If you can actually jack off, that is.”
“I don't know. I’ve heard that it's easier with another person there,” Hawks muses. He’s still stroking the edge of Dabi’s cast, running his finger along the first knuckles. It tickles. “But I don't have anyone in my life who I’d trust enough to put their name down on that line. I've never dated anyone long enough to get to the Emergency Contact stage.”
Dabi is saved from having to come up with a reply by a fresh surge of heat. The lull didn’t even last five minutes, and now the quirk is back with a vengeance. His dick fills out so fast, Dabi jolts like he’s been lashed.
Me, me, I’ll fuck you, I’ll bend you over and split you open while you beg for it, make you come on my cock, lick the cum off your stomach…
“Hawks-” he chokes out. His hips jerk against the mattress. In the space of two seconds he’s hard and aching as if he’s been edging himself for an hour. “It’s starting again.”
“Shh, you’re fine.” Hawks lets go of his hand, grabs one of Dabi’s pillows and folds it over. Dabi yelps when the hero yanks his hips up like he’s weightless and shoves the pillow underneath him.
“Get comfortable. Find a good spot.” The hero’s voice barely reaches him, that’s how fast the second wave comes crashing down on Dabi. His eyes roll back in his head. It’s not until a few of Hawks’ feathers descend on him and adjust his position, lowering his chest, raising his hips, folding his arms under his head, that he remembers what to do. He jerks his hips forward until his cock slots against the pillow just right.
“That’s it,” Hawks coos over his moaning. “Now try to relax. Just let it happen.”
“This position is-” Dabi laughs, loose and tired, as he plants his elbows and rocks himself back and forth, “-not my strong suit, I’ll have you know.”
“You’re doing fine.” Hawks smiles at him, too confident, too in control.
“I could do better.” He curves his back some more and moans. His grin is an open invitation.
You want to. You want to fold me in half and fuck me until I scream your name, you want to milk me dry, you want me on my knees and begging for your cock, again, again.
Hawks tsks at him. A feather swats his shoulder. “Behave.” There’s no real reprimand in it.
“Make me.” He moans again, keeps his eyes on Hawks, making sure the hero catches every second of the show. “Could make you feel real good, too.”
Wanna suck you off. Wanna beg you to fuck my throat. Might even let you paint my face, mark me up so you can never unsee it. God, I bet I'd come into thin air if I could watch you come undone and claim me-
Hawks runs a hand through Dabi’s hair, then tangles his fingers in the sweaty strands at his nape and gives a short tug. The next moan that rips out of him is real.
“Shut up and focus on your dick. Please.”
With Hawks’ hand in his hair, Dabi humps his pillow until his dick is throbbing and he’s once again right on the edge.
“Would you fuck me, though?” he blurts out. He leans his head into Hawks’ hand, shamelessly begging for attention. “If I’d asked you any other time. Would you have said yes?”
“Let’s talk about that later. Not helpful right now,” Hawks replies, just a little too quick, with a hoarse edge to his voice.
Dabi can feel his flames kindle behind his eyes.
“I’ve thought about it before,” he whispers. “About sucking you off in a dark corner of those warehouses and basements where we meet. I'd slip a finger inside you to drive you crazy. Let you cum down my throat.” He shivers, but instead of fighting the quirk he lets the tendrils pull him even deeper. He fucks into the pillow and whines shamelessly. Hawks’ grip tightens on the back of his neck. “Wa- Wanna watch you ride me, with your… Ah, your wings tousled from me running my hands through them.”
“Dabi,” the hero snaps at him. He tugs on his hair in warning.
“But you fucking me, that… that’s my favorite.” Dabi smiles wide. His heart is racing, his breath burns in his lungs. There’s no stopping the words falling out of his mouth, because Hawks’ face is tinted a lovely shade of red and he’s panting hard. “I bet you’d feel so good. You’re crazy strong, and you can be so efficient and quick when you want to be. You’d throw me around and put me exactly where you want me. I’d melt in your hands.”
Hawks pauses. “Do you want that?” he asks softly. Dabi swallows the spit flooding his mouth.
“Yeah.”
“Would you like me to touch you?” The hero’s fingers slide back up his scalp, scratching through his hair. Dabi is sure he goes cross-eyed for a moment.
“Fuck, yeah,” he keens.
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.” His head is lolling like a ragdoll. His dick has a heartbeat of its own. Fucking faster, harder.
“Be specific.” Hawks leans in close. His eyes are nearly black. His voice is barely audible. “Where would you want my hands on you?”
“I… I want you to hold my waist when you’re behind me, when I’m on my knees for you. Touch me so lightly I nearly can’t feel it. Just your fingertips petting me, like-” Dabi swallows. “-like you’re not disgusted by the sight of me.”
He moans and nearly collapses when a feather zips all the way down his spine and smacks his thigh for good measure. He shoves the pillow tightly against his dick. “And then you grab me and pull me back onto your cock all at once. Bury yourself so deep inside me, I’d feel you there forever.”
The weight of Hawks' touch on the back of his head increases. Slowly but mercilessly, the hero pushes Dabi down until his face is pressed into the mattress.
With Hawks’ hand in his hair, his second orgasm crashes into him. He whines for every shock that goes through him, until he collapses. He's not even mad that Hawks tricked him into talking himself over the edge without touching him .
“Something like that,” he slurs out, his face planted in the sheets.
***
“You know what I was just thinking? We could have been fucking for weeks. We could’ve had some fun instead of playing spy games with your hero intel.”
Dabi is riding the edge of his mattress while clinging to the headboard as best he can with his casts. His smile is tinged with exhaustion, his thighs are cramping, but his dick is at full mast again and drooling precum over the sheets. And he can't stop himself from teasing the bird. Hey, all part of the show. “Just saying. If you’d played your cards right, you could have been fucking me stupid right now. Instead of sitting there staring at me, acting like you're not dying to.”
“I’ll survive, I’m sure. And so will you.” Hawks is still sitting on the floor, but he has given up on the pretense that he's not watching Dabi with blatant hunger in his eyes. The knife-sharp black markings stamped into his skin emphasize the gleam in those eyes when he gets like this. Somewhere between pissed and ravenous, like a hawk locked on its prey. “But I could buy you dinner sometime after this is over.”
That makes him burst out laughing.
“We’re not dating, birdbrain,” Dabi cackles, stubbornly ignoring the hopscotch jump of his heartbeat. “We barely trust each other enough to make it through a meeting without trading death threats.”
“I thought that was flirting,” Hawks shrugs with a crooked smirk, glancing at Dabi from under his lashes.
“Just because we could fuck like gods, doesn't mean I trust your feathery ass.”
He loses his rhythm for a moment when Hawks shifts onto his knees and leans forward until their noses are almost touching. The smile slips away. And then Hawks does touch him, if only barely. Nosing at his jawline, lips ghosting past the shell of his ear, pressing his forehead against the side of Dabi’s head like a cat. A dozen almost-kisses flutter all over his face.
The sound that gets punched out of Dabi’s lungs is a bit much, even for him.
Mouth mouth mouth so close oh god yes- Your mouth on me, please, touch me, spit on me, slick and wet and ready, put it in, fuck me fuck me, oh god he smells so good.
“What if I wanted to change that distrust, huh?” the hero says softly. They're a breath away from a kiss. “No games. No trade. Just because it's you.”
“Yeah sure, no games and no trade, said the hero. Of course I'll buy that,” Dabi pants. He’s shaking from exertion and for no other reason. His voice has a tremor when he tries to tease the hero, “Bet you won't even kiss me.”
Hawks smiles back and sighs.
“You're dosed. I can't.” He pushes Dabi’s damp hair back from his forehead and looks at him with such a gentle fondness Dabi should probably hate it or use it against him. “Doesn't mean I don't want to,” he adds.
Dabi tries to come up with jeers and taunts, perhaps more accusations about Hawks trying to use this situation to finally be allowed entry into the League. It’s still there, in the back of his mind: all the reasons not to trust Hawks, to milk the hero for intel and never show him his throat. He’d be useful, yes, and a powerful ally, and so goddamn pretty-
So why would he pick Dabi?
“We've been playing this game for months, trying to use each other to our own advantage. Why stop here?” he asks instead.
“It’s different now,” Hawks answers right away. No flinch. No hesitation. His eyes never leave Dabi’s, not even when he smiles and teasingly flicks a finger against the tip of Dabi’s nose with stunning irreverence. “Someone should take care of you, for once.”
Dabi blinks, and does his best to not let it register on his face how deep those words struck him. Fuck, horny and emotional don’t mix well.
“Presumptuous little hero,” he scoffs.
“Maybe. I’m not wrong, though,” Hawks replies, apparently entirely unphased by the dangerous words pouring out of his dumb hero mouth. “No well-adjusted person responds with paranoia to not being taken advantage of.”
“Well-adjusted people rarely become villains.” Dabi gives him a pointed look. “Or heroes, for that matter.”
That makes Hawks throw his head back and laugh.
“You're funny,” he chuckles and leans in close again. He takes hold of Dabi’s chin and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip. “And so hot.”
“And you're a goddamn tease,” Dabi grunts in response.
“Mmm, and you’re so into it.” Hawks eyes flutter. He leans in. Dabi’s mouth goes dry as the desert.
“It's the quirk, don't flatter yourself.”
Then, multiple feathers flit over his skin to spur him on until he picks up the pace again, rutting into the mattress until it’s just this side of good-painful. Dabi gasps and tenses.
“Hhhh-Hawks!”
“Pretty.” The hero is in his face again, staring at him but sounding far away at the same time. “So fucking pretty and strong and crazy. God, I wish you were mine.”
Wailing and shaking, Dabi fucks himself to his third orgasm, coming in shaky spurts over the sheets. After it’s done, he collapses into a ball of throbbing misery. He can’t even lift his head anymore, and everything below his neck aches like a seven car pileup. Especially his dick is begging for mercy. But he can feel the quirk isn't out of his system yet.
“It hurts,” he groans into the clammy sheets. “Fuck, I can't keep going. I'm gonna give my dick a friction burn.”
“Do you need a breather? A shower, maybe?” Hawks asks. Dabi takes a deep breath.
“No. Um…” He lets out an exhausted laugh and turns his head just enough so he can see the hero’s face. I wish you were mine. Oh, you sure are merciless. “I need you to grab the box under my bed, and help me fuck myself.”
***
Whimpering, Dabi lifts himself up and slams down again. His cock kicks weakly, still dribbling out the last spurts of cum from orgasm number four. But with the constant stimulation of his prostate and with his ass stretched and filled so perfectly, he already knows his body won’t give him much of a break. His knees hurt but he can’t stop bouncing on the cock sliding in and out of him, even if he wanted to. There are two strong arms wrapped around him, thighs bracketing him in, and a solid chest pressed into his back, keeping him upright and guiding him along.
“Look at you, such a good boy,” Hawks hums against his neck and Dabi whines in response. The world is no bigger than the floor of his bedroom and Hawks kneeling behind him, holding him as he rocks up and down in the hero’s lap.
Hawks agreed to this new position once Dabi made it clear that his dick couldn’t take more stimulation. Luckily, Dabi has a nine inch friend with a suction cup base and a big bottle of lube hidden under his bed.
He didn't ask Hawks to fuck him. All he needs is a little extra support to get through the last half of this unfortunate pollen incident. That’s not against his moral code, is it? As long as the hero’s pants stay on, who cares that he’s guiding Dabi onto a fake dick? Who cares that he's holding Dabi close and letting him grind on his lap, all while breathing on his neck and muffling little moans against his skin? Who cares that this is the hottest not-fuck of Dabi's life, and he has never felt more desirable?
Every time he takes it as deep as he can go, Dabi feels Hawks’ dick. The real one, not the silicone one he’s pretending is actually the hero rearranging his guts. When he’s seated for a moment with nearly the full length sheathed in his ass, he leans back against Hawks’ chest to catch his breath. A grin splits his face when he feels the hard line of Pretty Bird’s dick through his uniform pants. He’s so hard it must be torture.
He’s still enjoying the high from the noises Hawks tried to suppress as he watched Dabi slowly inch his way down on his long, girthy toy, aided only by willpower and a ton of lube. He couldn't finger himself open, but it's fine. The pollen helped loosen him up, and Dabi doesn’t mind a tight fit. He knows what he can take. The wet squelching sound when he lifts himself up again melds with moans and curses and the fluttering of feathers.
Okay, so maybe there's some truth to Hawks being a little stupid for him.
He leans back more, shoves himself up against Hawks and digs his casts into the hero’s thighs for balance. He punches the air out of himself in little staccato Ah-ah-ah sounds as he bounces on the toy, faster and faster. Hawks’ hands tighten around his chest. His chin is hooked over Dabi’s shoulder and his eyes are glued to the depraved show he’s putting on, stomach taut and cock slapping against his scarred skin.
Dabi’s voice climbs two octaves when he angles himself to grind the toy across his prostate in long, hard thrusts. His cock pulses and with no warning he’s suddenly coming again. Hawks holds his spasming body and keeps him moving while Dabi screams and cries his way through number five.
“Another one, and still not done?” Hawks groans in his ear. The hero twitches like he’d love to grind against Dabi’s ass, but he keeps himself in check. Barely. “You really love getting fucked, huh? You’re taking it so well.”
“Hawks, pl… Please, I need you,” Dabi whines. He’s still going, he can’t stop. Now that he's finally getting fucked, the quirk effects are ramping up to… something. It's reducing him to some version of himself that can't think about anything except how good it feels to be filled and touched and watched.
The line between pretend and reality is slipping through his fingers like water, as the waves of those back-to-back orgasms mercilessly bear down on him. It must be Hawks inside him. The hero’s breathing stutters.
“F-fuck me hhharder, H-haaawkss, oh God you feel ssso good...” he slurs.
Hawks' takes a long breath. He rolls his hips once, real slow.
“Yeah, I got you. I know what you need.” Hawks’ hands slip to his hips and squeeze. “Just keep riding me, hot stuff. Close your eyes and think about nothing but my dick inside you. That’s what you want, right?” Moaning, Dabi nods. Hawks muffles a swear against his shoulder. He starts to move with Dabi’s bounces, rolling his body against him. “Me, stuffing you full. Taking you, again and again. Fucking my cum inside you over and over.”
Dabi nods again, mouth open around meaningless sounds. He scrambles to change his position and Hawks follows seamlessly. The hero hikes him up higher so Dabi can throw an arm around his neck and press their faces together, staring dumbly into those glowing eyes. Hawks snakes his arms underneath Dabi's body and grabs the underside of his thighs, spreading and lifting his legs.
“You look so fucking hot when you’re on the edge. You know that, right? How good you look right now?” Hawks helps lift and lower him, deeper than he could get by himself. Dabi mewls from the overload. The hero gasps against his lips like he’s trying to swallow the sounds. “You have no idea what I'd do for you.”
He can't keep up, he can't breathe, and Hawks just keeps going until-
“Oh, oh, I’m gonna come!” He sinks his nails in Hawks’ skin in reflex, leaving long welts. Dabi can’t even begin to care. He’s whimpering and vibrating and Hawks is still leading him in fast thrusts.
“Already?” He noses at the side of his sweat-slick neck. “Go on, then. Show me how much you like getting fucked by me.”
The sixth one hits like a nuclear blast. Dabi tenses in Hawks’ grip, screams as he comes dry, and then everything goes dark.
***
When Dabi regains consciousness, he’s himself again. Also, every inch of his being hurts like he got dragged across the surface of the sun.
We are never recruiting anyone with a lust quirk. This is some bullshit, good lord-
He tries to move but finds that he can’t. Not only is he too exhausted to do more than breathe, but he’s being held tight against a warm body, with two strong arms wrapped around him.
When he tries to shift, the arms loosen slightly. He’s half on the floor, half in someone’s lap. Above him, Hawks’ face swims into view.
Huh. He’s still here.
“Welcome back,” the hero says softly. He’s smiling a little uneasy, then asks, “Shower?”
“Yeah,” Dabi wheezes.
Slowly, carefully, Hawks untangles them. He must have eased Dabi off the toy before gathering him in his arms, and judging by the tacky patches of lube sticking his thighs together they must have sat here like this for quite some time.
Hawks helps him into a sitting position and kneels beside him.
“Can you stand?”
“No.” After all that, Dabi is surprised he can even feel his legs. He weighs his options for a moment, then lifts his injured arms and raises an eyebrow at Hawks. Well? You wanted to carry me.
Dabi gets princess-carried into the bathroom, where Hawks puts him down on the toilet lid. While a dozen feathers flit around to locate soap, shampoo, clean towels and washcloths, and start to fiddle with the taps inside the shower cabin, Hawks helps him tape two plastic grocery bags over each cast so he doesn’t get them wet.
But once that’s done Dabi still moves like newborn Bambi when he attempts to stand up. Hawks tries to use a few feathers to stabilize him, but in the end he sighs and gestures towards the shower.
“Is it okay if I-” he doesn’t finish the sentence. Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Just get in with me. We barely have hot water, so I hope you’re okay with a lukewarm shower.”
“That’s fine.”
Hawks undresses while his feathers guide Dabi into the shower. Only his pride keeps Dabi from craning his neck to sneak a peek at the goods. And maybe the risk of his dick falling off if he even thinks about getting hard again.
He hisses and curses when the water hits his skin. Immediately, Hawks is behind him.
“You alright?”
“Would you calm down?” Dabi sighs. “I’m fine. It feels nice, actually. Get in already, before the water runs cold.”
Dabi doesn't turn around. He stays under the spray and stares at the tiles, while listening to every splash and rustle of Hawks stepping into the shower with him.
He's so close. They're not touching but they're close, and Hawks is naked. Dabi closes his eyes and leans his plastic-wrapped forearms on the shower wall for support. Over the rush of water clattering down on his sweat-tacky body, he hears the fluttering of the baby feathers the hero can't shed.
“Can you shampoo my hair?” he asks. “The blue bottle.” He adds a quick “Please.”
Hawks has to clear his throat twice before he can get a word out. “Yeah. Sure.”
The hero is quiet, and he keeps his distance as well as he can in the cramped shower. Dabi hides his grin by leaning against the wall and keeping his face angled down.
He can feel the tension in Hawks’ hands when they scrub his scalp, and when they carefully rub suds over his back and chest with a washcloth. He can almost hear the hero's heartbeat when he finally reaches down to wash the dried cum out of the faint thatch of white hair leading down from Dabi’s belly button, lower and lower, and his hand brushes the base of Dabi's dick.
The noise Dabi makes is completely involuntary, but oh does he relish it when Hawks moves closer in response and presses against him. The hero's dick, heavy and warm, brushes his thigh.
“Tender?” he whispers.
“Hmm.” Dabi nods and spurs him on with a nudge.
“I bet.”
Careful hands scrub the cum and lube off him. Meanwhile, the feathers that were meant to support him slowly steer him backwards into Hawks’ touches. Smirking, Dabi lets it happen. He leans out of the spray and into the hero's chest, pressing the full length of their bodies together. He can feel Hawks’ pulse against his ass.
Both of Hawks' hands are on him now. They're sliding over his abdomen, slick with water and soap, pretending to wash all his sensitive skin over and over again. Dabi lets out a symphony of helpless, keening sounds every time anything touches his dick, and the hero answers in kind with little groans and huffs and coos.
The water is turning colder, but Dabi swears he feels steam rising off his skin.
Hawks suddenly takes his dick in a loose grip and gives him one long, slow stroke. Dabi nearly faints, because fuck no he can't take more but oh shit that's good. His shaky legs almost give out, and there's nothing for him to hold on to. The only place for him to go is backwards, and slip deeper into Hawks’ hold.
“You’ll be sore for a few days, but other than that you handled this like a champ. Gold star performance.” Ah, there's that teasing lilt in the hero’s voice again.
“Yeah, well, I had help,” Dabi replies in kind. “Should call you coach for the way you talked me through it.”
Hawks noses at the side of his neck. “Another job title to add to my ever-growing list.”
When the hero and his feathers are done rinsing the suds from his hair and washing the lube from between his thighs, Dabi cranes his neck until he can see Hawks' eyes.
“Thanks.”
He looks nearly shy when he smiles. “My absolute pleasure.”
This time, when Dabi leans in, Hawks doesn't pull back. The hero's lips are warm on his.
Dabi twists around. Immediately, Hawks pushes him up against the tiles. For a moment they catch their breath, heaving under the tension. Dabi can't tear his eyes away from Hawks' mouth. He watches him slowly run his tongue along his bottom lip, like he's confirming that it was real.
They collide like a missile plummeting to earth, already accepting that nothing will ever be the same again after this moment. For once, the world is a safe and quiet place, with water raining down on them and nothing barring them from feeling. Everything smells like soap and that scent that Hawks always carries with him, something Dabi doesn’t have the words to name but he can finally breathe in until he figures out a way to keep it. Cool water soothes his overheated skin, everything is covered in steam, and Hawks is pressed as close as he can get, shivering, trying to disappear inside him. And his mouth, oh, better than any daydream, that god-shaped mouth finally on his. It’s enough to make a villain a little extra crazy. Makes Dabi want to bite.
It's a harsh kiss, overdue and impatient and lined with teeth imprints. It's a kiss that will need words, later, but for now there are only hands tugging at wet hair and nails digging in just below a wing joint. Hawks is warm and strong and he touches every inch of Dabi like he's the one who might die if he doesn't get closer. He whimpers like a wounded animal while simultaneously devouring every inch of Dabi he can get his mouth and tongue and teeth on.
That, plus the hard-on still insistently poking his thigh, sparks a mischievous light in Dabi's overcooked brain. He clumsily slides to his knees until he’s finally at eye level with the prettiest fucking cock, goddamn Birdie, cut and thick and perfectly curved , ignoring Hawks’ weak gasps.
“You don’t have to-” the hero tries.
“Shut up.” Dabi bats his hands away and looks up, pressing his casts into hips to keep him in place. “I’m sober now, and I want to.” He drags his tongue along the inside of Hawks’ thigh, reveling in the tickle of the light dusting of golden hairs and the rise of gooseflesh. “Okay?”
Moaning, Hawks nods and scrambles for a handhold against the tiles.
“Okay.”
With their eyes locked, Dabi sticks out his tongue and gives a slow lick from the base of Hawks’ dick all the way to the flushed tip. Hawks curses sharply, his hips jerking forward for emphasis. Dabi does it again, catching the head between his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Moaning, Hawks slowly thrusts into the offered heat, panting open-mouthed as he watches his entire length slide into Dabi's mouth until he hits the back of his throat.
Dabi relaxes his jaw and opens his mouth wider, giving the hero something loose and sloppy to tease him with. He can feel Hawks’ cock nudge his soft palate before he slowly slides out again, every inch a show for Birdie’s viewing pleasure. When he’s almost out Dabi closes his lips around the head and probes Hawks’ slit with the tip of his tongue, making the hero spasm against the wet tiles. A hand finds his hair and tugs in warning. He flattens his tongue along the underside and hollows his cheeks, guiding Hawks’ cock back into his mouth.
Yeah, Hawks may insist on being sweet and careful, but he’s only a mortal man. Cursing under his breath, he holds Dabi’s face and slowly thrusts into his mouth.
Dabi stares up with fire dancing in his eyes as he watches the hero unravel with every thrust. After a few more, he braces his arms against Hawks’ thighs and lets him slip from his mouth. Hawks’ breathing echoes off the shower walls, but Dabi won't bully him for it. He’s too busy admiring the artful mess he’s making: the number two hero mid-fall, naked and wet and so hard it looks nearly pitiful. But damn, everything looks good on him . Dabi almost convinces himself he can take one more round.
“Do you trust me yet?” he asks instead. Hawks laughs, exasperated.
“Yeah,” he chuckles and brushes Dabi's wet hair out of his eyes. “Now that I've seen you naked, I think I can trust you, hot stuff.”
Yeah, right back at you. All kinds of naked, huh pretty bird?
“Then I guess I'll give you a shot,” Dabi replies.
“Gee, I’m honored,” Hawks pretends to be annoyed but his smile ruins it.
Something about Hawks, a little wild and on the edge, yet insisting on taking care of him, saying I don't want to hurt you… Dabi never stood a chance.
He’s not… completely convinced by one strange sexual encounter, but he’s closer than he has been with anyone else in living memory. He wants to attempt this trust thing with Hawks. Starting with his body.
“Do you want me?” he asks. “Do you still wish I was yours?”
“Is that even a question?” Hawks gives a teasing tug at his hair.
“Say it.”
Hawks strokes his cheek like he’s something precious, even with all his mismatched pieces. His thumb follows the path of silver staples.
“I want you. You have no idea.”
“I want to keep you,” Dabi blurts out.
A second of heavy silence.
“Yeah?” Hawks whispers. Oh, so fragile. So dangerous.
“Mhmm.” Dabi deflects the weight of it all with two kisses to Hawks' sharp hip bones.
He'll make him stay. He will steal this bird right out of the cage, because he can feel it: that pull in his chest like everything is magnetized with the promise of potential. Like Hawks could be everything, as long as Dabi can pay the price.
He won't lose it again.
“Mine. Swear it.”
“I swear,” Hawks says softly, then throws his head back when Dabi takes his dick between his lips again and swirls his tongue around the head. Immediately Hawks has his head in a ravenous grip. The hero curves his body and tucks his chin into his chest so he can keep looking as he starts to roll his hips.
“Yours, yours, oh god-”
He won’t last long. Once Dabi lets him fuck his mouth with fast, shallow thrusts, the night's events catch up to Hawks like a runaway train.
“Fuck, Dabi-”
He’s thrusting against the back of Dabi’s throat, quick and dirty, chasing release with an animal intensity that makes Dabi feel a bit better about his own behavior tonight. When Hawks’ cock gives a telltale jolt, he starts to pull out, but Dabi follows. He looks up as best he can through the splashing water when he traps Hawks against the wall and sucks him through his orgasm. The hero whimpers and shakes and stares at Dabi in reverence, as he cums in his mouth.
Dabi swallows, because spitters are quitters, and he has a pretty hero to impress in every nasty way a villain can think of. He doesn't even mind the bitter taste in the back of his throat, courtesy of Hawks’ crippling caffeine addiction. It's those little human imperfections that make it better, more real.
Okay, easy now. At least get that dinner he promised, before you hand him more ways to ruin you. Man, there's still so much of Touya’s weaknesses in you.
They stay like that for a while, Hawks cradling his head and Dabi's tongue playing with him until he whimpers. Once Birdie’s soft dick slips from his swollen mouth, Dabi pokes him in the thigh.
“Now help me up. My legs are cramping, and I'm stuck.”
***
“If I choose you…” Hawks asks softly after a few minutes of him carefully drying Dabi’s patchwork body in complete silence, only interspersed with kisses, “Can I stay?”
“You goddamn better,” Dabi answers from where he’s sitting on the toilet lid, then kicks at the hero’s shin to keep up appearances and mask the fluttering in his chest. “But you'll have to help me explain it to Shigaraki when the others get home.”
A kiss, and another one, and another one, and somewhere down the line Dabi just… stops resisting. He drops all the tension he was holding and lets himself feel. Hawks’ hands are so careful and gentle with the way they cup his face, and he refuses to believe anyone could kiss like that and lie about it.
One day, me and him are gonna get stupid drunk together and I’m gonna drop every secret I’ve ever held at his feet. Hell, I can already feel myself leaning towards him like he’s the fucking sun itself. One day, I’ll give him everything. And if we burn, we burn.
After he pulls away from the kiss, Hawks heaves out a heavy sigh. His eyes are closed. He presses a last peck to Dabi’s forehead before looking at him again. The glow of his gaze could knock a lesser man off his feet.
Dabi holds out his arms and lets Hawks unwind the tape and remove the bags from his casts. The hero smiles and runs his hands over the plaster like it’s endearing.
“I need to find a marker so I can sign these,” he says. With an annoying grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, he raises his eyebrows to try and look sincere. “Y’know, I'm still unclear on how one person could have this much bad luck in a row.”
Dabi kicks at him again, then uses Hawks to pull himself to his feet. He stretches up to his full height, exploiting their minimal height difference.
“Whatever, Birdie. Looks like everything worked out in my favor in the end,” he hums with a quick nip at his mouth. Because he’s allowed.
“Thanks to me, yes,” Hawks argues. He circles Dabi’s waist with his arms and pulls him close. The towels fall to the floor in a discarded heap. Dabi bares his teeth.
“Guess I’ll better keep you close, then. Just in case I need someone to make the smart decisions after I fuck myself over again.”
“I guess you should.” Hawks kisses his chin and wraps his wings around both of them. “Time for a nap. You think your bed will fit us both?”