Work Text:
“Thank you again for helping me out, mister Hawks, really… but you didn’t have to escort me home.”
You swiveled on the balls of your feet in the entrance of your modest apartment, rocking onto your heels as your guilty eyes glanced into the impossibly deep stare of the esteemed number two hero standing before you, looking entirely out of place in the ratty, run-down complex you resided in.
Yet, the laid-back smirk he shot you in response clearly implied he didn’t give a damn.
“It’s nothing.” He dismissed your qualms with a lazy wave of the hand, before planting said appendage on your door frame just beside your head, leaning in close with evident intention to tease. You instinctively swayed backward, unable to handle being in such close proximity of a specimen that was light-years beyond your league without your feeble brain short-circuiting in the process.
“Besides,” he drawled, mouth cocked at your visible tics of nervousness. Oh, how precious you were. He just couldn’t resist the opportunity to squeeze out a few extra minutes with your tantalizingly demure self by escorting you home.
“…How could I let such a pretty, defenseless young dame walk home all on her lonesome, and in a neighborhood like this? Tsk,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly before sparing a cursory glance over your shoulder and into the depths of your residence. A rapid assessment indicated you lived alone, but just the pitiful size of your place would get that message across alone.
“That’s just askin’ for trouble, missy. What a sorry excuse for a hero I’d be if I’d allowed that to h—happen…” That smooth, suavely practiced speech fumbled over itself suddenly, and with a curiously cocked brow, you followed the trail tethered to his abruptly blanked gaze.
“Oh fuckery,” you cursed under your breath, remembering you had deliberately left your overflowing bin of dirty laundry in plain sight before you left in order to remind yourself to take care of it once you got home. Well, consider yourself sufficiently reminded now. Ugh, how embarrassing. Of course, it would be on day like this one, out of all the fucking days out of the goddamn year.
“Uh, sorry about… that,” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head with a sideways glance at anything other than that suddenly invasive, avian like stare drilling into you. Kinda unnerving, it was; it made the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise in something akin to warning when it was directed at the likes of yourself.
“Been meaning to take care of it but I’ve just been too slumped to go to the laundromat lately… work and all that.” More like your lazy bum-ass and all that, but you didn’t need to dig your own grave any further by admitting as such.
“Eh, it’s cool. We’ve all been there.” His shrug was casual and reassuring despite the slightly uncomfortable heartbeat of silence following your sheepish admission. He was looking at it again.
“Say,” he chirped suddenly, “could I have a drink? A water, maybe? Somethin’ refreshing to send me back off into the big, bad, villain infested world?” He tilted his head innocently, eyes crinkling with the stretch of that wide, well-meaning smile.
“I mean, it’s the least you could do after being saved by a dashing, self-sacrificing hero such as I.” He emphasized that statement with exaggerated flourish, hand placed over his heart and those enviously long lashes fluttering at you dramatically.
A shy smile grew on your down-turned face as you were swiftly reminded why he was so well regarded by the public. It was nearly impossible not to be swept up in that effortlessly charming and easygoing nature of his.
“O-okay. Wait right there.” You promptly whizzed off to your meager little kitchen, which was tucked into a small corner of your apartment. The relaxed smile he wore never wavered, that twinkling golden gaze tracking your every moment as a small feather zipped out from behind his back.
You were none the wiser to the miniscule blur of red that streaked past you, zeroing in on your bin of laundry like a homing missile and the used pair of panties hanging oh so conveniently off the side, as if they were waiting, begging to be snatched up. And who was Keigo to deny them their wish? He was nothing if not a good Samaritan.
Less than ten seconds was all it took for you to retrieve a water for him, twirling around and scurrying back like an obedient puppy as he waited patiently at the threshold, smirking mysteriously. He wouldn’t have even needed five. You noticed his right hand slowly retreating from a baggy pocket, but didn’t think anything of it.
“Well – um… here you go.” You offered the drink simply, ruddy cheeks burning and stiff arm barely passing the threshold of your door, as if he’d bite it straight off at the elbow if you dared to get any closer. With the way he was looking at you, it felt like he very well might.
“Thanks,” he grinned, blinding you with dazzling pearly whites as he took the bottle from your shaky grasp, warm fingertips grazing yours. “You’re a peach.”
Jesus, you couldn’t get any redder or else you would resemble a fucking tomato instead.
“Y-you’re w— you—” You sputtered inelegantly, your entire subconscious erupting in a fiery turmoil as your eyes pinballed on every miniscule detail of his uniform before briefly settling on his.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Smooth.
You fiddled with the loose thread hanging off the edge of your sleeve instead of meeting that intimidating scrutiny, searching for the courage to utter the words you wanted to say in the dirty floorboards beneath those pristine shoes of his.
“Any time you need a little pick-me-up like — um, feel free to come around… if you’re ever in the area, or something. I guess.” Your tremulous voice was a meek, mousy whisper, and if it weren’t for those keen ears and keener feathers, it wouldn’t have registered at all.
“Hmm.” He cupped his chin, as if legitimately pondering the merits your offer. “I think I’ll hold you to that. Anyways, thanks again for the generous donation.” In more ways than one.
“See ya ‘round, sweetheart.” He winked, tossing you a loose-limbed, two-fingered salute while walking backwards down the hall, easily navigating despite not sparing a glance over his shoulder. You watched through the shrinking slit of your door, gaze utterly ensnared by his until he vanished around the corner—just as the door closed. The man had an undeniable presence about him, one that refused to have anything other than one’s undivided attention. To say it was debilitating was putting it mildly.
You sighed like a love-stricken maiden, sliding to the floor and head thumping heavily against your door. As intimidating as he was, you couldn’t deny he also absolutely flooded your stomach with butterflies. You innocently hoped to see him again.
For the certain someone moseying just down the hall, however, it was a little different.
It was nearly instantaneous, as soon as Hawks was out of your sight; his prize manifested in his palm before he was even cognizant of it, and he gazed at the little scrap of fabric like it was freshly claimed prey, those camera shutter pupils shrinking to needle points as it slowly, slowly approached his face. The anticipation bubbling and broiling at a dangerous simmer in his gut made the moment they finally connected with his salivating maw all the sweeter.
Keigo shamelessly pressed the soiled fabric to his nose as he mindlessly rounded corners, inhumanly enhanced senses kicking into autopilot and ensuring he was in the clear to do so—couldn’t have a candid shot of Japan’s sweetheart rubbing dirty panties all over his mouth making worldwide headlines the following morning, after all. That would certainly be difficult for his carefully cultivated image to recover from.
“Mmm,” he croons in a deep, lengthy inhale, making sure to commit every facet and nuance of your sweet musk before releasing it all in a shuddering exhale. His feathers quivered ever so slightly. Dare he say it… they were still a little fresh—from before you left on your little grocery excursion, perhaps? Judging by the sheer poignancy of the lewd aroma… you had gotten aroused while wearing these.
A sharp jolt of hyper-fixated awareness pinged up his spine like it was lightning rod, rendering him momentarily stunned. They were soutterly saturated in your slick that he had suspicions of you masturbating in them, and his eyelids fluttered dreamily. Such a thought was too good to be true, but the evidence was also literally on his mouth. It was undeniable—these adorable panties were hugging your horny little pussy just an hour or two prior.
“Fuck.” His typically smooth and meticulously honed inflection was rougher than crushed gravel, breathy and scandalized. Who would’ve thought he’d get so lucky; this day was turning out to be a real snoozer until you had conveniently gotten yourself caught in the crossfire of a robbery. For once, he was thankful for the lowlife degenerates that he had to deal with day in and day out. He deserved this.
He lazily tongued at the spot where your flavor and scent were the most potent, stringy drool intermingling with your lingering syrupy essence and soaking the fabric entirely. Shit, he wanted to just shove the whole damn thing in his mouth, jack off while getting high on your concentrated flavor and his own muffled moans. The urge to squeeze his throbbing dick right out in the open of this dingy building’s front lobby was immeasurable; he could feel the sticky beads of pre steadily oozing out of his slit like it was a leaky faucet, dripping down his length and pooling on his rapidly tightening balls.
Fuck the rest of his patrol; he was going to go home and beat his meat to the thought and flavor of you until it fucking falls off.
“Man, that’s the good stuff,” Keigo sighed fondly, unable to resist one last indulgent drag off your lethal fragrance before balling the used material in his fist and pushing past the grimy entrance to your complex. “Ain’t nothin’ like the smell of a virile young woman.”
His eyes were glazed, hazy and content as he skipped contentedly down the steps, tossing his unopened bottle of water at a presumably homeless man perched at the bottom.
He didn’t bother to acknowledge the slurred stream of thanks the vagrant rained upon him, immediately unfurling those grand red wings and lowering that tinted visor before taking to the skies. He had very important, very urgent matters to attend to, after all.
Keigo couldn’t help but brainstorm all the feasible reasons he could offer for visiting you again tomorrow, or the next day at the very least. Before inevitably charming you out of your panties, he thinks he could do with just a few more souvenirs in the meantime.