Chapter Text
Shoto has heard of clubs like this one before. He kind of thought they were just stories, relics from a different time. But no, his father says he’s been a regular since he was Shoto’s age. It’s where he learned about everything, it’s where he met Midnight.
Enji lets it slip one night, the two of them drinking alone in that massive old house. He tells Shoto about the club, about some of the experiences he’s had there. Learning Endeavor’s secrets usually makes Shoto horny as hell, and learning his sex secrets makes Shoto a bit feral. He’s climbing into the man’s lap like he’s three years old again, clinging to solid shoulders, asking for more, more-
Then his father’s drunk lips are spilling every filthy truth, everything he wants to do to his favorite son, in front of a whole room of people. Shoto goes wild for it, ends up grinding on Enji’s thigh and splattering a mess all over the inside of his briefs.
Two weeks later Enji asks if Shoto is seriously interested.
Of course he is.
—
Endeavor hoods him in the car, a simple one, loose, covering Shoto’s head completely. He breathes cold air into the thing, listens to the sound of his breaths echo. It puts Shoto down until they arrive, then nerves bring him back up again. Shoto shifts in his seat.
“…What if someone recognizes m-“
“If anyone notices,” His father interrupts, “They’ll say nothing.” His voice snaps stern. “Parking is inside, we go straight up.”
He’s nervous too, his edges sharp. He takes a breath, exhales heavily. Shoto breathes as well, tries to center himself. The next time Enji speaks its calmer.
“It’s an extremely private, vetted space, Shoto, nobody will be looking for you here.”
“…Are you s-“
“The lights will be dim, nobody will know.” Enji insists, parking the car and pausing to fuss over his appearance in the mirror.
Shoto doesn’t trust it, doesn’t trust anyone. But Shoto’s heart pounds with the thrill, Shoto’s groin aches with it. He wants what they had talked about so bad, but taking their thing into a more public space...
Endeavor’s thick fingers snap together and Shoto’s posture straightens instantly. A large hot hand clamps down on the back of his neck and Shoto allows his brain to melt away into static. He trusts Enji to handle things. He trusts Enji now more than he believed was ever possible, through their new arrangement.
Shoto never would have thought the violent hand of his father could feel like safety. Many people have said Endeavor would make a good Dom, and those people would be right for the wrong reason. Endeavor doesn’t make a good Dom because he’s violent or large or sadistic, or any of those things that make people throw themselves at his feet.
Endeavor only makes a good Dominant because he used to be a Submissive.
(Used to, as if his needs have changed. He just trusts people less than Shoto does, and that’s saying something.)
Enji knows what Shoto needs. Intimately. And now that Shoto tells him, he’s even come to know what Shoto wants. Rules, structure, hard stops and firm physicality defines their relationship now. It’s all Shoto really wants from the man at this point.
(If things can’t be mended, they might as well be… managed.)
—
Now strapped into his isolation hood, Shoto breathes. His mouth is the only thing left uncovered, the thick leather around his ears means his slow heavy breaths are the only things that echo.
Endeavor’s hot hands keep him grounded, direct him out of the car, into an elevator. Shoto stands at his father’s side, drifts. Walks when he walks, stops when he stops. Endeavor must check them in somehow, they must be inside if Shoto can just walk around like this.
His body is strapped into something Shoto doesn’t think anybody would recognize him in, something far too revealing that used to belong to Endeavor. It hugs and squeezes his freshly waxed body in ways he’ll never be used to, blends seamlessly with the harness that will allow him to to be locked into various places. In it’s cage, his cock jumps, throbs.
They must get in another elevator, Shoto’s stomach lurches with the movement. There is one other person there with them. Shoto breathes. Drops. Enji takes a firmer hold of the back of his harness, walks them out and down a hall, then down another. Safely at his father’s side Shoto relaxes into this new space. Nobody speaks to them, Endeavor knows this place, nobody will recognize Shoto like this.
Shoto drifts until Enji is stripping his lower half, locking him in place somewhere. Bent over some sort of table, his wrists, then his ankles are locked in place, the D-ring at his sternum clipped. Shoto props himself up on his forearms, breathes. Then his space is invaded by searing heat.
You ready? A message mouthed clearly against his own lips, in lieu of an answer Shoto kisses his father firmly.
“Good answer.”
“I want to wear him out.” Endeavor growls, low and rasping. Shoto barely hears him, hears everything like he’s 15 meters underwater. “Exhaust him.”
Endeavor goes on to say a few more things, it doesn’t matter what. The words aren’t for Shoto, anyways.
(Shoto isn’t here to follow orders. He’s here to be passed around and used up like an object.)
A few noises of ascent drift into Shoto’s awareness. He wonders how many people are present. He wonders if the door is open, if people will wander in, wander out as he is used. Then hands grab him around the waist and Shoto’s body snaps to attention.
The first one to fuck him is Endeavor. Shoto would recognize his thick hot cock and powerful hips anywhere.
He fucks Shoto open, quick and efficient. Pulls out halfway through his orgasm, leaves Shoto’s hole a painted, dripping mess. Then Shoto catches his voice-
“Who’s next.”
Shoto’s neglected cock oozes in the chastity cage. The next man that starts pounding into Shoto’s backside goes quick, hard, Shoto slaps the table, cries out in surprise as his body is used with inhuman, jackhammer thrusts. He thinks he can feel scales rubbing against his ass, keens softly.
This is what Shoto wanted. To be used by strangers like tissue. Used hard by people who don’t care who he is, where he came from, or what kinds of fucked up things get him off. One after the other, they use him for his intended purpose, leave him dripping, rivers of cum running down his thighs. Endeavor moves him twice, adjusts the table height for some people. Shoto barely notices.
Shoto ascends. Descends. Floats and sinks and drifts. He’s not even worried about the people anymore, too far under for any social anxieties.
It’s too good. Exhausting. Shoto doesn’t come back up into the real world until the next morning, sore and clean.