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His jaw ached, his knees were definitely going to be bruised, and the incessant tugging on his hair was going to leave his scalp tender for days to come. But it was all worth it, considering the sounds Dabi was making. Tomura glanced upwards, hollowing his cheeks and sliding his head forward to take more of the scarred villain’s cock in his mouth. Another tug on his hair along with a muffled groan told him that Dabi was enjoying this. His eyes were half lidded, pupils wide and scarred bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he gazed down at Tomura. His hips moved minutely with every suck on his cock.
Sighing out through his nose, Tomura relaxed his throat and took all of Dabi in a deepthroat move he’d never admit he’d been secretly practicing; he’d been glad that he’d never had a strong gag reflex. Tomura could feel the ball of Dabi’s piercing sliding against the back of his throat. The instinctual buck of Dabi’s hips caused him to jerk his head back, but a strong hand held him in place.
“God, creep, please. Let me fuck you,” Dabi whined, tugging on the pale length of Tomura’s hair. “Wanna split you open on my cock.” The slight rocking of his hips gained strength as he steadily fucked Tomura’s mouth. Tomura just held his mouth slack, tongue flat against the underside of Dabi’s cock. Drool pooled at the corners of his mouth. The piercing on his cock slid over the back of his tongue in a strange sensation of hard metal that Tomura couldn’t decide if he hated or enjoyed. “Please, Tomura,” Dabi groaned. His thrusts stuttered and Tomura pulled back, gripping the base of Dabi’s cock with two fingers and his thumb. Dabi grunted, hips jerking in response to the pressure.
Tomura let go of Dabi’s cock, pushing himself to his feet. Why they hadn’t used the bed that was a few feet away for leverage was beyond him. He tugged the sleeve of his shirt over the back of his hand, wiping his mouth with the back of the sleeve. They were both still mostly clothed: Dabi’s pants pooled at his ankles, his briefs halfway down his thighs, and Tomura’s own clothes still on his body.
Lips pulled into a pout, he grabbed the edge of Dabi’s ratty shirt and tugged it up, the other getting the hint and holding his arms up to allow the fabric up over his head. He was grinning at Tomura now, his own hands finding the front of Tomura’s jeans to start unfastening them. Huffing, Tomura tugged his own shirt off as Dabi dragged his pants and boxers down for him to step out of. They were on equal footing now, completely bare. Tomura ran his fingers over the patchwork of grafted flesh, metal, and burned scar tissue that Dabi called a chest. He paused over a patch of scar tissue where Dabi’s right nipple should have been, featherlight touches tracing where he assumed it would have been.
A pair of warm hands settled on his hips causing him to glance upward. Dabi’s half-lidded gaze stared down at him, that eerie turquoise shining behind his wide black pupils as his thumbs caressed the bumps of Tomura’s hip bones. The intimacy of the moment made Tomura’s neck itch. He knew what Dabi’s eyes were asking, as well as the incessant hardness of his cock poking near his thigh. Instead, Tomura leaned forward to catch Dabi’s lips in a chaste kiss, hand sliding down his stomach. He casually avoided the hard jut of Dabi’s cock, four fingers settling over the burned man’s hip.
“I’m not comfortable with you putting it inside me,” Tomura whispered after he’d pulled away from the kiss, gaze moving to stare past Dabi at the cracked mirror over the sorchmarked dresser. His mind was quickly dissociating at the intimate and vulnerable moment they were sharing. He fingered a staple on Dabi’s hip, trying to ground himself via the touch and the sight of Dabi’s back muscles in the mirror.
“It being..?” Dabi cupped Tomura’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to make eye contact. Tension coiled in Tomura’s shoulders and neck as he instinctively pulled back. Dabi’s grip on his hip held him in place.
“It being your fucking patchworked dick,” he hissed, tugging his head away sharply.
“You didn’t seem to have any issues with my patchworked dick a few minutes ago,” Dabi pointed out, hand moving between Tomura’s thighs.
“I said no,” he snapped, clamping his thighs together, effectively trapping Dabi’s hand between them. “I'm not comfortable with penetration.” He tried his best to keep his voice level, willing the waver out of his voice. Dabi quirked an eyebrow.
“Which type? Cuz you know you have two-”
“Finish that sentence and you won't have a dick attached to your body anymore.” Tomura was fast, and in the blink of an eye, he had three fingers and a thumb wrapped around Dabi’s cock, putting more pressure than what was pleasurable. His pinky hovered in a silent warning. He allowed himself the relish in the way Dabi’s eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sudden pressure.
“Shit, boss. Okay, okay,” he groaned, head dropping into the crook of Tomura’s neck. Tomura sniffed, relaxing his grip and allowing Dabi’s cock to slide over his now open palm as the other bucked his hips. Tomura felt heat flush high in his cheeks as he felt the smooth, soft skin on his rough, wrinkled own. He chewed at the scar tissue on his upper lip. He couldn’t. As much as he enjoyed fooling around with Dabi, Tomura couldn’t allow something inside of him. Not like that. He’d only ever masturbated by stimulating his cock, never daring to slip his fingers inside himself. It was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be willing to cross it. Not even for Dabi.
Dabi wiggled his hand out from between Tomura’s thighs, hot fingertips ghosting over bullet scars on his hip. “You know, there’s a way I could get off without…”
“Without fucking me?” Tomura raised a nonexistent eyebrow.
“Well, I would still fuck you. Only,” he purred, fingers trailing down the top of Tomura’s thighs, leaning in close to murmur right in Tomura’s ear. “I could fuck your thighs.” Tomura didn’t have a chance to suppress the shudder that ran through his body or the reflexive gasp as Dabi’s baritone rumbled through his bones. He nodded, biting his lower lip hard enough to break the dry tissue.
“Okay,” Tomura breathed, voice barely more than a whisper. Dabi grinned wide, the staples at the corners of his mouth struggling to keep the two types of flesh connected.
“Get the lube, crusty.” Tomura scowled, brow creasing.
“Don’t fucking call me that, ashtray,” he grumbled, shoving Dabi to the side. He tugged opened the nightstand with two fingers hooked in the drawer pull, shoving aside the cigarette carton to grab the lube sitting towards the back of the drawer. Soon after closing the nightstand with a hard shove, Dabi’s hands were in his stomach and chest, pressing Tomura back into his warm chest.
His calloused fingers teased over one of Tomura’s nipples. “Knock it off, dick,” he huffed, shoving his hand away to turn. Dabi stared at him, head cocked and and that stupid grin plastered on his face.
Tomura narrowed his eyes, uncapping the lube. With no warning, he tipped the bottle over Dabi’s erect cock, watching the viscous liquid dribble over the tip and shaft. Dabi flinched slightly, probably due to the chill of it. With his free hand, he began to spread the lube, causing the other to grunt. One of the benefits of living with such a dangerous quirk was that he was pretty ambidextrous at this point. He gave it a few pumps, running a thumb over the slit to tease the piercing. The cock twitched under his hand, and Tomura bit his lower lip, worrying on one of the open cracks. Was he cheating Dabi out of something by refusing to have penetrative sex? A sudden urge to scratch his neck caused a hand to rise to his throat only to be caught by Dabi.
“Hey, baby, it’s fine. We can work our way there. Fucking those pretty white thighs’ll be just as good as fucking that tight little pussy.” Tomura just blinked at him, letting Dabi slip the open lube from his hand. “Well, not just as good, but it’ll come pretty damn close.” He crowded Tomura against the edge of the bed, turning him with a solid hand on his hip. “Bend over, crustface, and spread ‘em.” With a flush painting his pale cheeks pink, Tomura spread his thighs. He bent his head forward, hair draping around his face like a curtain as he chewed his lips raw. He tried to suppress the flinch as the cool lube coated his thigh. “Sorry, shoulda heated it up for ya, huh?” Dabi pressed his chest to Tomura’s back, tossing the lube onto the bed. Tomura let his eyes follow it, trying to keep his mind anywhere but Dabi’s hands, firm and sure in between his thighs.
Tomura shuddered and wrinkled his nose when Dabi wiped a slicked palm on the back of his thigh. He opened his mouth to protest, but his mind effectively went blank when that same hand pushed his hair to his other shoulder, lips finding purchase on his neck. It was one of his weak spots, and Dabi knew how to exploit it to get him to shut up. He sucked hard on the scar tissue, and Tomura let a soft whimper escape his throat. Something hard and hot slid between his thighs and he closed his legs on instinct, drawing a low groan from Dabi.
“Just a little t-tighter, sweetheart,” he grunted out, and Tomura obliged, squeezing. “Good boy.” Tomura’s body rocked forward at the first drag of Dabi’s hips. His face felt hot. Something about being bent over and used sparked a mixture of shame and arousal in his stomach. But, it was better than the alternative of Dabi finding someone else to get off with.
It was a little boring, bent over the side of the bed as Dabi fucked his thighs. He half wished he would have grabbed his phone or his Switch before they’d started. He shifted, propping his head up with an elbow on the bed and his hand under his chin. His eyes trailed over the cracked mirror on the wall, watching the top of Dabi’s hair move in time with his thrusts. The other’s grunts and groans melted into white noise that buzzed in his ears. He wasn’t sure how long he had dissociated for until warm lips pressed against his neck. He hummed, hand slipping out from under his chin.
“Here, baby.” Dabi’s lips ghosted over Tomura’s neck, one hand sliding from his hip to in between the front of his thighs, warm nimble fingers teasing the front of his cock. The pet name still sent shivers down his spine. A warm feeling settled in his chest, heavy and solid in a way that was almost constrictive. Every thrust forward caused Tomura to rock into his fingers, drawing short gasps and moans as his fingers clenched the sheets. “Not very fair for me to have all the fun, is it?”
All Tomura could reply with was a needy whine, turning his head to pant in Dabi’s general direction. Dabi was smirking, hips snapping forward as he continued to tease Tomura’s cunt. On instinct, Tomura spread his legs a little wider, the head of Dabi’s cock sliding past his own. The ball of the piercing caught on the underside of his clit, ripping a moan from Tomura’s throat. “Oh, fuck!”
“That feel good, baby?” The question rumbled through the fog of Tomura’s brain and he nodded, releasing the sheets with one hand to reach blindly back for Dabi. Calloused and warm fingers slipped between his own, gripping his smaller hand tightly. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmured low. “Spread your legs a little bit more for me. Yeah, just like that. Good boy.” Suddenly, Dabi’s cock was sliding along Tomura’s wet cunt. His thighs closed instinctively, eliciting a groan from Dabi, his hips stuttered.
“T-too close,” Tomura whined out, head falling down as he fixed his gaze on the stained sheets. He felt Dabi’s fingers tease his cock and a moan bubbled out from his throat, hips twitching into the touch.
“S-sorry,” Dabi grunted, his thrusts picking up. Tomura grunted in response, focusing on the sound of wet slapping skin and the way Dabi’s fingers inched him to orgasm, that heavy and tight feeling pooling in his groin.
“P-please,” he gasped out, clenching the sheets. “I’m right there, I’m so close,” He panted heavily, rocking forward into Dabi’s hand and backward against his dick.
“Fuckin’ same. Come for me, baby,” Dabi groaned right in his ear, pinching the shaft of Tomura’s dick between his fingers and jerking his wrist, eliciting a strangled squeal as Tomura tried to smother it by clamping his free hand over his mouth. Tomura shuddered, thigh muscles clenching involuntarily as his orgasm ripped through his body.
“Dabi,” he whimpered, hand moving from his mouth to grip the wrist of the hand still teasing him.
“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you,” Dabi murmured as he continued to jerk Tomura’s enlarged clit. Tomura shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.
“N-no, it hurts,” he whimpered, legs trembling with the effort of standing post-orgasm.
“I got you, don’t worry,” Dabi grunted, hips thrusting forward one, two, three times before he spilled himself on the edge of the bed and the insides of Tomura’s thighs. He didn’t stop teasing Tomura’s cock as his thrusts slowed, however. Instead, he incessantly edged him closer to another orgasm, his softening cock still squeezed between Tomura’s thighs.
The building tightness in his abdomen quickly evolved into a second orgasm, and Tomura threw his head back, gasping as his hips jerked, warmth spreading from his core. Dabi let out a pained groan behind him as his soft dick was jerked forward.
“G-get your fucking hands off me, asshole,” Tomura hissed as Dabi continued to tease his clit. He opened his thighs, and Dabi slid out from between them. Tomura dropped his wrist as Dabi removed his hands from Tomura’s body.
“Man, and here I thought I’d just fucked the bitchiness out of you.” Tomura scowled, turning to face Dabi. Dabi was grinning at him, his eyes half-lidded and full of adoration, head cocked to the side. All of Tomura’s anger dissipated quickly, and he was struck with the urge to kiss the stupid idiot.
So he did. He crashed their faces together, teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other as they fought for dominance. Dabi’s hands cupped his ass and hips and Tomura clawed his way down Dabi’s back, purposefully catching on some staples.
“Don’t get fucking cocky just because you’re a good lay, brat,” Tomura hissed, biting hard on Dabi’s scarred bottom lip. Dabi grunted, palms heating on Tomura’s skin.
“So you admit I’m good in bed?”
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, patchwork.”