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I really should’ve eaten first…
But, of course, Dabi did not. And working on an empty stomach is pissing him off. Even worse, Shigaraki paired him up with Hawks for some god-forsaken reason. Hawks, who has the uncanny ability to get on every single one of Dabi’s nerves. Fried or otherwise.
“Dabi, pay attention. They’re gonna signal us soon, quit staring off,” Hawks scolds over his shoulder.
Dabi shoots him a dirty look, though, with Hawks’ back turned, he’s oblivious to it. Instead of paying attention to Dabi, Hawks is peering around a corner in some building they snuck into. Compress is meant to be deeper inside, waiting to cue them to rush in.
There’s another group of Villains here, making trades that Shigaraki wanted to intercept. Dabi didn’t care to ask why.
Though, this certainly seems like something their probably-a-spy Hero could do on his own. All those stupid feathers and he only ever uses them to look pretty. Fucking bullshit. Hawks could probably do it faster, too. Then Dabi could go find some poor idiot on the street to drink from.
He leans against the wall and crosses his arms, trying to think of something that’ll distract from the dry, rough feeling in his throat.
“Dabi,” Hawks hisses. “Look alive, seriously. They’ll need us any second. Now isn’t the time to lounge.”
“Damn you and your fucking discipline,” Dabi mutters back. His comment finally earns Hawks’ golden eyes, along with furrowed brows and a pout.
“The fuck is your problem tonight? You’re usually eager to burn up whoever you can get your hands on.”
Dabi rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Keep your eyes on that hallway.”
Hawks’ wings twitch but he doesn’t argue and indeed turns back around.
Good thing, too. Dabi can’t stand those prying eyes on him, not right now. Usually, he’d love the attention. Anything to keep the probably-a-spy Hero distracted. But with this bullshit hunger… He just wants to get out of here quickly.
“… Does it usually take Mr. Compress this long?” Hawks asks after a few more long minutes. His feathers are all pressed flat—That usually means he’s overthinking something, from what Dabi has observed.
“How am I supposed to know?” Dabi snaps back. “Just shut up and watch.”
“How do you not know? Don’t you guys do shit like this all the time?”
Dabi’s nose scrunches up. “I usually do these things on my own. Like you should be doing. There’s no point in having half of us here for this.”
This time, Hawks’ feathers all puff up, making him look like an angry cat. Dabi would find it amusing if he were in a better mood. He doesn’t bite the bait, though. Hawks stays quiet, watching the hallway.
That is, until he rears back, turning on his heels and snagging Dabi’s wrist. He looses a lot of feathers while quickly dragging Dabi down the hallway.
“What—?”
“Shhht!!” Hawks snaps, cutting Dabi off. He should roast Hawks alive for that shit.
They both round a corner and Dabi catches sight of Hawks’ feathers digging into the lock of a door.
Since when could Hawks pick locks? Why does a Hero need to know that?
As soon as it’s open, Hawks shoves Dabi inside and follows immediately after. It’s small, probably used to be some supplies closet before this building got gutted. Certainly not enough room for two people.
Especially when Dabi is this starved and Hawks is alive right up against him, heart pounding, blood rushing, breathing hard—He swallows back salvation while Hawks pulls the door shut.
Dabi presses his back to the far wall, trying to gain as much distance as he can. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I think Mr. Compress was compromised,” Hawks whispers back. He’s looking off to the side at nothing, likely trying to focus on the feathers he sent out. “A much larger group than expected ran out from his location and there wasn’t any cue.”
On the other side of the door comes a rush of footsteps and voices, indeed more than expected.
“So we’re hiding?” Dabi questions, annoyed. Hiding would take so much longer. And he doesn’t want to be this close to the bird ever. Much less for an extended period of time while he’s hungry.
“At least until I figure out where the others are.”
Dabi turns his head away, expression twisting in fury. “You should’ve done this on your own. It’s fucking bullshit that they made most of us get involved. And I don’t need anyone paired with me.”
Hawks finally looks up at Dabi, brows furrowed. Dabi doesn’t look back and clenches his teeth instead. He doesn’t want to see those gorgeous golden eyes in the low light of this bullshit closet.
“Dabi, what’s wrong with you?” Hawks confronts, blunt and brash as ever.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Dabi denies. Of course he’s not going to spill this information to a Hero. Very few people know about this need, anyway. A cost of living as a walking corpse—he doesn’t want people to know just how fragile he really is.
“You’re more pissy than usual,” Hawks observes, earning a sharp look from Dabi. Which Dabi regrets immediately. Hawks adorns his face with a look of genuine concern. He doesn’t believe it for a second.
He quickly looks away again. “Fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We might have to really fight to get out of here. Are you up for that?” Hawks sounds like he believes the answer will be ‘no’, no matter what Dabi actually says.
He might be right, which Dabi hates even more. He doesn’t have the energy to run around. He’d rather just burn the entire building to the ground. Rather than explaining that, though, Dabi stays silent. This leads into an uncomfortable lull.
“… Are you thirsty?” Hawks asks cautiously.
Dabi’s eyes snap to Hawks and he quickly grabs the Hero by the throat, holding him against the door. Smoke starts rising from his skin and he leans down in Hawks’ face, growling lowly, “How the fuck do you know about that?”
Hawks draws a sharp breath and raises his hands placatingly. His blood pounds under Dabi’s palm. “Twice mentioned something and Toga clarified when I asked—I didn’t pry further. I don’t need to know how or why,” Hawks starts, quiet voice rumbling under Dabi’s hand. “Just—If that’s the problem, how bad is it?”
Dabi pulls his hand away and backs up against the far wall again—He’d never admit to how bad it is. Certainly not to Hawks, of all people.
But being this close to Hawks is getting to him. Dabi shouldn’t have touched him. He swallows back more salivation.
“Dabi,” Hawks presses, keeping his voice hushed. “How bad is it?”
“Get away from me,” Dabi mumbles, bringing up his hand over his nose and mouth. The tiny room sways—He can’t get the feeling of Hawks’ pulse against his hand out of his head. He shouldn’t have touched him, not when Hawks is riled up like this.
That adrenaline in his blood must taste so sweet… And he’s healthy and sober, unlike a lot of the idiots he finds on the streets. Hawks would probably taste like nectar from the gods, compared to the dilapidated meals Dabi usually gets.
“I would, if there weren’t a fucking army on the other side of the door,” Hawks mumbles. “They’re searching the place, now… We’ll have to fight at some point.” Hawks looks off to the side again, likely trying to focus on those stupid feathers again. The angle offers Dabi a delicious view of his throat and he, too, deliberately looks off to the side.
This is too much. He’s too fucking hungry for this. “Just let me burn the place to the ground.”
“Calm down, we’ll lose all the materials if we do that. Then this whole thing will be a waste. Just be patient, let me come up with something.”
Silence falls, save for the commotion in the hallway. It does not help distract from that unwanted draw towards Hawks. When Dabi can’t help but look back at him, Hawks is already staring with those golden eyes.
“… What?” Dabi prompts, then swallows again.
“The only way to make sure all of us get out with the shit we came for is if you’re able to handle the Villains while I do everything else,” Hawks explains quietly. “You can’t do that if you’re this hung up on a drink.”
Dabi scowls and shifts to face Hawks properly. But he holds up a hand to stop Dabi before he can say anything.
“So just… Drink from me, and then we can get it done.”
All of Dabi’s complaints and foul words screech to a halt in his head. Hawks is… Offering? Himself?
“Absolutely the fuck not,” Dabi refuses, earning a frown from Hawks.
“Why? You need it, I can provide.”
“I don’t drink from people I know, asshole. Fuck off with that.”
“Dabi,” Hawks insists. “That’s stupid, come on. We’ve got shit to do and I need your help.” Hawks digs his fingertips under the high collar of his uniform shirt and pulls it down to show the skin of his neck.
Dabi has to swallow again. This cannot be happening.
“Here, right?”
“I’m not fucking doing this,” Dabi refuses again. “I don’t drink from people I know, I certainly don’t drink from fucking Heroes—“
“Dabi, quit arguing. I can see that you’re barely staying sane. You’ve been off all day and it’s getting worse.” With his other hand, Hawks reaches for Dabi and grabs the back of his neck to pull him in. Dabi draws a sharp breath, his hands planting on the door above Hawks’ shoulders. “It’s dire. A one-time thing. Get over yourself.”
This close, Dabi can see blood thrumming under his skin. Rapid. Like Hawks is nervous about this. Or maybe everything else. Dabi usually enjoys seeing the bird on the back foot. Revels in the idea of a Hero under him, begging for mercy. This doesn’t feel anything like that.
“I—I’m not trusting you any more because of this,” Dabi clarifies with an uncharacteristic tremor behind the gravel of his voice.
Hawks scoffs. “I’ve given up on getting you to trust me, asshole. Just drink so we can get out of here.” He pulls Dabi a little closer.
Dabi isn’t one to resist indulging, not really. He’s on borrowed time, living every single day with pain. So he stops holding back with Hawks. Yes, it’s that bad. Yes, he needs a drink. And Hawks is offering. The self-sacrificial idiot is presenting himself and pulling Dabi in. He can’t help himself, not when someone so promising with flavor insists he have a taste.
Dabi brings his hand off the door to instead hold Hawks’ shoulder while he leans in. Hawks feathers all flatten down and he braces under Dabi’s touch. Again, he’d typically like that reaction. Reminding a Hero just how dangerous he is.
And, usually, the idiots he drinks from tend to fight a bit, they’re never offering like this. Nor does Dabi ever have to deal with them after the fact.
I’ll be gentle this time, he decides as he sinks his teeth into Hawks’ exposed throat. The bird sucks in a breath and his grip on Dabi tightens a bit.
Blood seeps from the bite and Dabi eagerly swallows it down, soothing the dryness of his throat—The flavor is nothing like he’s ever had. Sweet and rich. Warm. Healthy. Without the bitterness junkies, alcoholics, and smokers have in their blood. Nothing like what he usually tastes.
The need to drink has always been a burden. It’s not something Dabi ever enjoys.
But tasting Hawks is like indulging in dessert for the first time in years.
Dabi swallows down more of him and pulls Hawks closer, sliding his hand up from his shoulder to his jaw. Hawks takes a deep breath, then relaxes under Dabi’s hold. Relaxes, since when does anyone ever relax during this? Bold of the Hero. Dabi’s inclined to believe he’s faking it somehow. To earn trust, like the two-faced fucker always is.
But that subtle sharp flavor of adrenaline leaves and is replaced with something smoother and unfamiliar. Hawks can’t fake that.
Dabi bites a little harder, wanting to coax out more of that mystery flavor. Hawks tips his head back against the door and sighs softly, sending chills down Dabi’s spine.
It’s pleasure… He realizes. Hawks likes this…
Dabi licks against Hawks’ skin while the Hero’s breathing starts picking up again. The sound of it brings warmth to Dabi’s face, ears burning. What insane idiot would enjoy this? Did he know he’d like it? Or is having Dabi drink from him fulfilling some secret fetish?
He’d be more upset if he didn’t taste so fucking good.
A few more indulgent swallows, each followed by soft sounds from Hawks that Dabi definitely shouldn’t be hearing, and he finally has to let up for a breath.
Hawks’ blood seeps slowly from the bite and drips off Dabi’s chin. Hawks, breathing hard, looks up at Dabi. He looks back down at the bird. The light is low, but he’s pretty sure Hawks’ face is flushed.
“… You good now?” Hawks asks quietly.
No.
“Yeah.”
I want more of you…
Dabi took maybe a fourth of what he usually does and still feels refreshed. Despite that, he’s never wanted more in his entire life.
“You’re good to deal with them so I can find everyone else?”
Dabi nods, using his hand still on Hawks to flip their positions so he’s closer to the door instead. Hawks lets it happen. “Keep those feathers tucked, Birdie.” Dabi opens the door and is briefly met with a few confused expressions before setting the hallway alight.
...
Back at the base, Dabi is quick to retreat to his room while the others figure out what to do with their haul. Hawks’ plan went fine, but now he’s exhausted and hungry again. He’d like to just go to bed and find some drink in the morning.
That sip from Hawks was heavenly, but short lived. And, of course, he’s not about to ask Hawks for more.
Though he can’t get that flavor out of his head. Pleasure, rather than fear—That’s something else. What a freak.
Dabi slips off his leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor, the metal cuffs thunking against the wood. He needs to clean his staples before he sleeps, but he’s not privy to the work. They got back late after dealing with that hiccup.
There’s a knock at the door that pulls Dabi from his internal debate. A turns over his shoulder and watches Hawks open it, then quietly slips inside with wings pulled tight and feathers pressed flat.
Dabi stares—Hawks wears an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty on his face. And he hesitates before bringing his gaze up from the floor to meet Dabi’s.
“Was…” Hawks starts, but he sounds like he hasn’t actually pieced together what he wants to say. It’s enough to snag Dabi’s full interest and he turns over his shoulder to face Hawks properly. “Was it enough? Back there, it was only a few minutes. You sure you’re good?”
Dabi should lie.
He should turn Hawks away. Pressing any further with this could be dangerous. Indulging once was already a mistake, as delicious as Hawks was. That pleasure in his blood was like nothing else.
Dabi should lie.
But there’s a vulnerable look in Hawks’ eyes, one with which no one ever looks at Dabi.
“… No, it wasn’t enough,” Dabi admits against his better judgement. But his tone is flat and factual. Challenging. He takes a step towards Hawks who swallows hard in response. Surely the Hero does not intend to offer again, not without pressure or necessity. But he came in here, alone, with that expression. And he doesn’t shy away or turn to leave.
“Do you want more?” Hawks asks, ever as direct. But still with that waver. “From—From me, I mean.”
It’s got to be a fetish. Or some fucked up self-sacrificial Hero mentality. “Why would you want that?” Better to get him to confess his motives, rather than guessing.
Hawks’ eyes widen just a fraction and he shifts his weight in his feet, readjusting how his wings are folded. He’s always been a fascinating person to watch. “I—You’d just find some stranger otherwise, no? I’d be more comfortable knowing who you were drinking from.”
“Why do you care?” Dabi takes another step towards Hawks.
“I don’t, not really. But I can’t imagine preying on addicts of various kinds is good for you.”
“How do you know that?” Dabi confronts.
Hawks lifts his hands and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, just—Do you want me or not?”
‘Do you want me?’
Dabi pauses at the choice in words, eyes widening just a fraction. What a loaded question.
Hawks stares right back, waiting for an answer.
It’s dangerous, engaging with a Hero. Hawks especially, probably a spy. Trying to earn trust however he can.
‘Do you want me?’
Dabi is one to indulge, given his borrowed time. Pleasure seeking, otherwise he’s wallowing in agony. Hunger is one of those agonies. And Hawks is becoming one of those pleasures. His flavor is so sweet and rich, unlike anyone else. And he’s offering. Again. Despite the lack of necessity.
‘Do you want me?’
Dabi decides that if he has to live in constant pain, driven by the need to drink, then he might as well enjoy the desserts that come few and far between.
He reaches for Hawks, sliding his fingertips over the stubble at his jaw. He steps up to him, guiding Hawks chin accordingly. Hawks’ hands lift slightly, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, and he swallows hard. His sun-kissed skin is flushed and his breath is growing more and more shallow.
Dabi leans down, reaching with his other hand to brush over the high collar of Hawks’ uniform shirt. “You gonna back out, Birdie?”
“No…”
Dabi smiles and dips for Hawks’ throat. Part of him likes the thrill of breaking rules. The other craves that smooth taste of pleasure, unique to Hawks. Plus, having a Hero pliable under him…
His fingertips curl under the hem of Hawks’ collar, slowly pulling it down. There’s a light sheen of sweat, along with the bite from a few hours earlier.
I do want you.
Dabi sinks in his teeth, relishing how they pierce through his skin, right over where he bit before. Dabi generally tries to avoid drinking from the same person twice, lest they get curious and start trying to answer questions.
But Hawks already knows. It doesn’t matter.
He goes rigid under Dabi’s teeth, making a quiet, tense sound. His hands find Dabi’s shoulders and squeeze.
Blood floods into Dabi’s mouth, sweet and rich like before. Warm. He laps over the taste, eagerly swallowing it down.
If he’s not careful, he could get addicted to this.
Especially with how Hawks responds, letting out a held breath and melting in Dabi’s hands. The smooth flavor of pleasure returns—What a freak. He smiles against Hawks’ skin.
“What?” Hawks prompts quietly. “I can feel you smiling…”
Dabi lets up, licking over the bite before pulling back. “I can tell you like this, Hero.” Hawks flushes, looking at Dabi with a raw expression. Dabi slides his hands down Hawks’ chest, then his stomach, earning roused feathers. “Take this off, I’m tired of holding it out of the way, modest ass uniform.”
I do want you.
Hawks stares for a second, then slowly drops his hands from Dabi’s shoulders to the hem of his own shirt, pulling it up past his belt. He maintains eye contact, not even blinking, until he has to pull the shirt over his head and thread his wings out of the related sleeves. Then he’s immediately looking at Dabi again.
Dabi decides he loves the attention. Even if it’s over this. He is not the vulnerable one here. Hawks is presenting himself now.
He reaches again for Hawks’ face, fingertips soft. He’ll be gentle with someone so willing. That’s a fair trade, he thinks. With Dabi’s touch on Hawks’ jaw, he coaxes the bird to follow, slowly stepping back. Hawks, ever obedient as he is, indeed steps after Dabi. He lets his shirt and his gloves fall to the floor, next to Dabi’s leather jacket.
Dabi guides Hawks onto his bed, earning a flustered, question look from Hawks. Still, he stays silent, watching Dabi’s face. “Sit or lie back, I don’t care,” Dabi instructs, gesturing vaguely before sliding his hand down Hawks’ chest and leaning into his face. Hawks leans back slightly, more color blossoming across his face. That flush looks so good on him.
I do want you.
“I’ll sit. Are you usually this… careful?”
“No.”
Dabi licks up the unblemished side of Hawks’ throat, making him draw a sharp breath and grab at Dabi’s shoulders again. Warm and alive, his pulse thrums under Dabi’s tongue. He won’t prolong this, as much as he’d like so see Hawks squirm. He sinks his teeth in again, seeking that saccharine flavor so unique to the bird.
Hawks’ grip squeezes and his wings lift while he tries to stifle a noise by clenching his teeth. Dabi lifts a hand to his jaw, staying soft and keeping Hawks from moving too much. But, with his other hand, Dabi trails his touch over Hawks’ ribs and down his side. Chills rise under his fingertips and a burst of the smooth pleasure floods into Hawks’ blood.
Dabi would be more careless if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. Usually he’s somewhat messy, though his prey fighting him tends to contribute. Hawks doesn’t fight. Instead, he makes a quiet humming sound, something dangerously close to a whimper and it brings warmth to Dabi’s face.
Hawks’ grasp eases and he leans his cheek into Dabi’s hand, sighing. Like this brings him peace. Dabi shouldn’t bring anyone peace, not ever. But Hawks’ hands slide over Dabi’s shoulders and into his hair, grabbing lazy handfuls.
“Fuck—“ Hawks swears breathlessly, making Dabi’s chest stutter. “I didn’t know it’d feel so good…”
Dabi bites a little harder, coaxing a gasp from Hawks. He leans into him, deciding he wants to ravage the Hero. How dare he make such soft, gorgeous sounds. How dare he say something so candid. Dabi is barely even doing anything. It makes him curious. Just how honest could he make this Hero? And the smooth pleasure in Hawks’ blood certainly isn’t helping clear his head.
Dabi fits himself over Hawks properly, guiding him down. To which, Hawks obediently follows, laying back on Dabi’s bed without any protest. He curls an arm under Hawks’ head, hand in his hair, to hold him close while supporting Dabi’s weight over him. The other hand continues to explore Hawks’ bare chest and stomach, wanting more of that pleasure flavoring his blood.
Hawks’ breath stutters and his pulse gets faster against Dabi’s tongue. He shifts closer and Hawks writhes up into him, making an obscene sound that has warmth seizing in Dabi’s chest.
He’s hard. Dabi can feel him against his thigh. And the taste of pent up energy in Hawks’ blood only confirms it. Seeking friction, Hawks makes the same small movement. Dabi presses his thigh into him to help.
“Fuck—Dabi…” Hawks moans with a lascivious note. That flavor turns vibrant and Dabi sighs against Hawks’ skin. Hearing his name like that, from Hawks’ entirely too charming voice, breathless and begging… And his blood on Dabi’s tongue, unlike anything before.
I want more…
Dabi moves his thigh again and Hawks grinds up into him properly, singing his praises. It’s getting Dabi’s own heart racing.
He lets up for a breath, licking over his teeth marks he’s left behind. “Birdie, I love your songs but these walls are thin,” he coos, mouthing over Hawks’ throat. The Hero tips his head back against the sheets in encouragement. He removes a hand from Dabi to cover his own mouth. The visual brings fire to Dabi’s skin. This Hero will let him take whatever he wants however he wants to take it.
It doesn’t make Dabi trust him any more. But it’s certainly captured his interest. Exposed under him, willing.
He bites again and Hawks makes a muffled sound against his palm. Dabi trails his hand down over Hawks’ stomach, lower and lower until he brushes against the utility belt adorning Hawks’ waist. He tenses briefly as Dabi starts undoing it. Second guessing for a mere moment, most likely. Dabi bites a little harder, though, and Hawks does nothing to stop him. Stifled sounds and clenched teeth, he ruts up into Dabi’s hand when he reaches in to touch. Even if merely through the fabric of his briefs, the vibrant pleasure bursts again in his taste. And Hawks starts a shaky rhythm, which Dabi gladly entertains.
Hawks’ other hand in Dabi’s hair grasps a handful harder to keep him close. His own skin is buzzing with energy. With life, supplied by Hawks.
Dabi pulls at Hawks’ waistband, revealing him then taking him in hand. Hawks whimpers into his palm and rolls his hips, seeking more. Dabi supplies, curling his fingers around in a firm grip, then giving languid strokes in time with Hawks’ own movements. His taste only gets better as a result. Of pure bliss which Dabi swallows down eagerly. Taking his fill while Hawks writhes under him.
Hawks can’t stay quiet for long, as chatty as the Hero is. His hand grabs at Dabi’s shoulder. “More—Please, Dabi. More,” he begs. Fire zips straight to Dabi’s gut, low and loud—He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so alive.
He lifts off of Hawks who tries for a split second to keep Dabi over him. Strength that would absolutely keep Dabi immobile if he didn’t immediately let up. Letting that mask slip—it sends another thrill down Dabi’s spine. He withdraws his hands to undo his own belt, the sound earning Hawks’ blown out eyes. Merely a thin ring of gold around inky black—Dabi’s sure he looks no better.
Hawks’ gaze locks on Dabi’s hands and he swallows hard, feathers on end and face flushed with color. He props himself up on his elbows to watch Dabi take himself in hand. His wings flit against the mattress, a movement unfamiliar to Dabi but one he assumes can only mean arousal.
Dabi leans back over Hawks who looks up at his face. Awed. As if Dabi is the most important thing he’ll ever lay eyes on. How could anyone ever look at him like that?
Dabi presses himself against Hawks, then takes them both in his hand, squeezing together. Hawks face twists in pleasure and he clenches his teeth to stifle his sound.
Dabi mouths over his throat while pumping a steady rhythm. Faster than before. The ragged breaths from Hawks in his ear are only encouraging. “You…” Dabi coos against Hawks’ skin. “… are the most amazing thing… I’ve ever tasted…”
Hawks tips his head back and moans. “Really…?” He asks, as if the praise went straight to his dick. Lewd and candid. Entirely too vulnerable and open. Dabi relishes in it, chills running down his spine and warmth pooling in his gut.
“I’ll never get it out of my head.” He bites into Hawks’ throat again, letting blood drip down his chin. He hopes his teeth will leave scars. Then Hawks will never forget him, either.
“Dabi…” Hawks calls breathlessly. Dabi’s hand speeds up, chasing that pooling pleasure. Both his own and that vibrant flavor on his tongue. Hawks curls forward with a wingbeat. “Fuck—Don’t stop.”
Hawks is leaking over Dabi’s fingers, aiding in his pumping. His hips are rolling against him, chasing. Dabi can taste the build in Hawks, it only encourages his own.
“Dabi, please—I’m so close,” Hawks begs. He slings an arm over Dabi’s shoulders to pull him closer. Dabi’s brow furrows and he bites harder, earning an obscene sound. He’s getting close, too. With Hawks reacting like this, he didn’t think he’d be so vocal, considering how many other secrets he keeps. It’s ringing all the right bells in his head.
“Just like that—yes, fuck—Dabi, I’m gonna cum—“ he draws a sharp breath and tenses, wings beating while he shoots pearly ropes over his own bare stomach.
The flavor sears into Dabi’s mind, a high unlike any other. Pure and sweet, vibrant, smooth—Everything it could be. Blinding with ecstasy.
Dabi’s hand stills when his own pleasure snaps and he, too, spills over Hawks’ stomach.
When the high starts to dwindle, he lets up off of Hawks, licking his teeth clean and looking down over Hawks. What a freak, getting off while covered in his own blood. From the various bites, it spills down his shoulders and over his chest, bright red against his flushed, sun-kissed skin.
Hawks collapses back into the mattress, breathing hard. He drapes his arm over his eyes and Dabi smiles at the sight. He looks ruined.
After putting himself away, he leans over Hawks to slowly lick him clean. Clean of everything, his blood, his pleasure, Dabi’s own—Drinking the way he does, this doesn’t matter to him. Plus, feeling Hawks’ stomach tense and twitch at Dabi’s tongue running over him only brings more gratification.
When he’s done, Dabi sits back and uses his shirt to wipe his mouth. Hawks is already looking at him.
“… Did you mean that?” He asks, voice shot and quiet. “What you said?”
Dabi reaches for Hawks’ face, leaning in with a smile. The bird’s breath hitches. “Would I lie to you?”
“Yes…?”
Dabi scoffs, then licks at the bites on Hawks’ neck. Hawks shivers at the feeling. “Mm, fair enough. I didn’t this time, though.”
“… I didn’t know it would feel good.”
“Me neither.”
Hawks gives Dabi a look, then smiles. “Aw, I must be special, then. Who knew you could be so gentle?”
“Fuck off, Birdie. Put your dick away.”
Hawks obeys like he always does, fixing himself with a slight tremble in his hands. “You better now? No more pissy attitude? At least, not more than usual?”
“Don’t act like that was all for me, freak.” Dabi won’t admit it, but he does feel better. A lot better. In more ways than one.
He won’t let the probably-a-spy Hero get close. But indulging now and then… Dabi’s on borrowed time, anyway. He can’t imagine a long life ahead of him. Might as well enjoy his desserts now, while he still can.