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Dabi scraped his knuckles against Hawks’ jaw while they kissed. The rough bit of stubble against Hawks’ chin tickled the healthy skin of Dabi’s fingers. It made him smile. The little excuse for a beard was cute considering the hero was so baby-faced.
“Let’s get this off, pretty bird.” Dabi shoved away Hawks’ jacket, watching as the feathers detached.
Hawks groaned, nipping at Dabi’s mouth. It had been one of those days. The kind that drug on with call after call. Dabi could tell Hawks was tired, he’d been on patrol for twenty-four hours; at least the televised portions. The taste and smell of caffeine on Hawks’ breath was enough to tell Dabi his little bird was about to nose dive hard.
“M’so fuckin’ tired, Dabs.” Hawks peered up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Some of his concealer had rubbed off, revealing dark circles. “Don’t make me move when we finish? Please?”
Dabi smirked. “You’re such a whiny little shit, you know that?” But Dabi felt an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy. He knew what it was like to be run into the ground then told to keep going. The limits to one’s body even when the spirit was willing to continue were such a pain. He bit Hawks’ ear. “Turn over, hands and knees on the bed, birdie.”
Hawks tilted his head in question but obliged, his wings reforming across his back. He draped himself near the edge while Dabi finished stripping him. There was a nasty bruise to Hawks’ lower back from him catching a hunk of falling debris. The media had been covering the hit for every “on the hour” segment. Dabi understood why; Hawks barely managed to get back to his feet.
He'd seen the hit live, and it took a considerable amount of control not to melt the remote.
“Still sore?” Dabi ghosted his fingers near the mark and watched Hawks flinch. “Mmm.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” Hawks rested his cheek on his arms.
Dabi walked past him, still dressed, and took out the bottle of lube. He knew for a fact Hawks wasn’t lying, but the bruise looked tender. Maybe he wouldn’t press on it. Not unless Hawks did something asinine.
“Hips up, birdie.” Dabi tapped Hawks’ shoulder and moved to sit behind him. Hawks obeyed. “That’s a good bird.”
Hawks’ wings twitched at the praise, and Dabi hummed in approval while he coated his fingers. Part of him imagined once he started, Hawks would nod off. Idiot hero had been running himself ragged for the better part of a week due to the winter months. It depressed people, skyrocketed tempers and suicides, and left heroes scuttling to clean up society’s messes.
Had to be hell on Hawks. Birds tended to dislike the cold. Dabi couldn’t say the same.
Dabi slipped two fingers inside of Hawks without preamble. The only sound was a low moan of appreciation and heat enveloping Dabi’s digits. Hawks shifted a little, widening his hips. The wings twitched again, fanning out on either side. One tip ghosted over the floor, and Dabi watched a few stray feathers shed themselves. He wondered if that was natural, or if Hawks had a tendency to just let parts of himself drape wherever. Was it something to keep himself focused? To sense the room? Or was it a way to say he was here, that he existed? That last one Dabi knew well, too. He carried his own reminders all over his body.
“Ah, you don’t have to be so soft.” A cloudy eye focused on Dabi, the pupil dilated with lust. “We both know I won’t break.”
Dabi smiled and sped up his efforts. He leaned over Hawks’ back to kiss his shoulder and rasped, “Yeah, we do.”
The pace picked up and soon Hawks was moaning under Dabi, whimpering encouragement and thrusting back against his hand. It was domestic in a way, enough that Dabi almost laughed. Ever since they started this whole thing, he never expected Hawks to come dropping onto his balcony as a reprieve from hero work. But the life of a pro was anything but easy, despite Hawks’ own admissions and self assurances.
Dabi rested a hand over the bruise and applied a little heat. Hawks groaned and sank against the bedding.
He whimpered in pleasure, “Dabi...”
Dabi kept his hand steady while he slipped a third finger inside of Hawks, spreading him.
Then the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing shattered their peace. Dabi sighed but continued. His hands were busy after all, and he didn’t have sentient feathers.
“Mine or yours, birdie?” He glanced toward the pile of clothes. Dumb question, his was in his back pocket set to vibrate.
Hawks groaned, “Mine.” He sent a tuft of feathers to collect it.
Dabi thrust his fingers a little faster. “Let it go to voicemail.” They were in the middle of something, and Hawks was off duty.
“It’s the commission.” Hawks' voice said it all. His handler tracked him down.
Dabi grinned, a horrible idea coming to mind as he spread his fingers wider, daring to dip near Hawks’ prostate. “Oh, better answer them quick then, hero.”
Hawks sent him a look as the phone continued to ring. “Stop touching me then.”
Dabi met his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. He could feel his staples strain. “No can do, little bird. My hand has a mind of its own.” He curled his fingers and closed his eyes in bliss when Hawks mewled.
Hawks managed to cut off the worst of it, and Dabi watched his expression morph into something used for interviews. All bright, coy eyes and charming smile. It was interesting to see the range of expressions Hawks worked through on a daily basis. It made Dabi wonder which ones were real and which ones were cultivated masks. Where did Hawks end and his true self begin? Was there even anything left of the civilian? Had there ever been?
“This is Hawks.” His voice sounded far too smooth, easy going. It held none of the complaint Dabi had listened to for ten minutes until Hawks collapsed on his lap, demanding kisses.
Dabi hummed and pressed his fingers in deeper, thrusting faster. The lazy grin stayed in place while the edges of Hawks’ wings trembled from the strain. Hawks’ voice wavered, yet he persevered.
The volume was low, but Dabi could hear most of it. Seemed the handler had expected Hawks somewhere else, interview this, be at a book signing that, yadda, yadda blabbity blah. “We own you, remember" bullshit.
Dabi muttered, “Give the fucker a break.” He pressed his fingers to Hawks’ prostate and dropped his free hand down to ghost his warm grip near Hawks’ cock, grazing the shaft.
Hawks’ voice hitched. “Ye-ah-es, I understand.” He twitched his hips up, trying to get away from Dabi’s hand near his genitals, but Dabi was a persistent sort of bastard. “The attack lasted… longer than, ah, expected and some dates needed to be canceled.”
Dabi sped up, taking hold of Hawks’ cock this time and pumping it in time with his fingers. He barely dodged a wing when Hawks tried to dislodge him. Dabi let go of Hawks’ cock and grabbed the wing, rubbing near the base and heating his hand.
Hawks jerked and sent him a dangerous glare, face flush, pupils blown wide. He sucked in a breath and mouthed something nasty to Dabi. All that did was make him smile wider while he stroked the downy feathers near Hawks’ skin.
Hawks groaned, and it wasn’t a pained sort of noise like he stubbed his toe or was tired of being lectured by some bureaucratic bitch. No. This was pure, unadulterated lust. The kind good, amateur porn gave you when the people doing it actually cared and weren’t just in it for the views.
Hawks hurried to excuse himself while Dabi doubled down, slipping in a fourth finger. Hawks’ brows rose and his head hung as he was forced to push himself up with his free hand, keeping the phone to his ear.
It felt so good, Dabi’s cock was aching. He kept thrusting into Hawks, but the unfortunate thing about having so much of his hand inside, it made it difficult to get where he needed. And for all of Hawks’ amazing ass, Dabi wasn’t up for fisting just then. He withdrew his fingers, and Hawks sagged in relief.
“Ah, ah, pretty bird.” Dabi applied more lube and slipped two fingers back into Hawks, finding his prostate with ease now. “Not yet.”
Dabi watched Hawks struggle to keep himself together. His entire body trembled from the exertion. His wings spread out, and the muscles in his arm keeping him upright flexed in a delicious way. Sweat beaded down every line of Hawks’ body, and he rocked his hips back against Dabi with purpose.
“What a pretty bird.” Dabi cooed, voice low, but he knew Hawks would hear it. He leaned down to lick a trail up Hawks’ spine, chuckling when Hawks moaned.
“No, no, ma’am! I’m paying attention! It’s just, uh… it’s… I’m sitting on the balcony and there’s… a squirrel.” Hawks hung his head in shame.
Dabi grinned and decided to put his poor bird out of his misery. He wrapped his hand around Hawks again and pumped in time with his fingers. It didn’t take much more effort before Hawks came with a guttural whimper that had his entire self convulsing around Dabi. His back arched, his wings went haywire, Dabi might have bit his lip when Hawks hit him with his shoulder.
But the important part?
Hawks’ cum spattered the bedsheets and he shouted “I’ll call you tomorrow” before hanging up and throwing his phone onto a pile of Dabi’s clothes.
Dabi withdrew his fingers and wrapped that hand around Hawks’ stomach, pressing a hot palm to the skin. Hawks’ cock gave a few final spurts while he rocked against Dabi, panting for breath, heaving really.
They sat like that for what felt like hours while Hawks came down, and Dabi contemplated rutting against Hawks like some animal. He did like his jeans though and cum was a pain to get out.
“Dabi.” Hawks’ voice was low, menacing. It sent a spark of arousal racing through Dabi. A golden eye flickered to him, pupil constricted, brow furrowed. “You’re going to regret that.”
Dabi let Hawks go and leaned back on his arms. Hawks turned around, wings flaring and every pore of his being exuding danger. His wings lifted, blocking out the fading sunlight from the windows, casting Dabi in shadows. Hawks’ eyes practically glowed.
“Dabi.”
Dabi tilted his head and licked his lips. “Make me regret it, birdie.”
Hawks descended on him with the fury of an avenging angel. Dabi laughed until he couldn’t breathe.