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This is not the first time that Hawks has found himself alone in a seedy and dark alleyway with one of Japan’s most wanted villains, and it certainly won’t be the last.
They’ve been doing this for a while now. Exchanging information - or, Hawks giving Dabi information, and Dabi dangling a meeting with the League just out of reach. Pushing back and forward, flinging insults and casting aspersions left and right, seeing who will crack first.
In the end, Hawks cracked first. Just not in the way that either of them had expected.
Sleeping with a villain was not something Hawks expected when the Commission assigned him to infiltrate the League, and yet here he is. Sometimes simply trading barbs, or getting handsy, or often both at the same time.
This meeting is one that walks that line.
Now, Dabi is threading his fingers through what he not-so-affectionately refers to as Hawks’ “stupid golden boy quaffed” hair, and yanks. The accompanying stinging pain against his scalp makes Hawks yelp, a strangled little noise around the thick cock that Dabi feeds down his throat. He gags as it pushes deeper, pinpricks of tears budding at the corner of his eyes.
“If you’d just lemme train away that pesky little gag reflex of yours, you could take dick without choking like a bitch,” Dabi points out conversationally. Hawks seriously considers biting his cock off right then and there, but that’d be a waste when he hasn’t even gotten to ride him tonight yet. Instead, he huffs in protest, hot breath washing against Dabi’s already overheated skin, and narrows watery golden eyes up at him.
Not that Dabi would ever admit to it, but when Hawks is on his knees like this, he’s temptation incarnate. Soft hair mussed under Dabi’s unyielding grip, flushed cheeks, and pretty lips stretched wide around his cock. Fucking Hawks’ face is really the only way to make that godforsaken mouth of his quiet, and Dabi takes advantage of his inability to talk back.
“What do you think your little hero friends would say if they saw you like this?” he asks leisurely, like he’s making polite conversation over tea at the church picnic rather than fucking the number two hero’s mouth like it’s no more than a cocksleeve. “So fuckin’ desperate to get used that you get on your knees for a villain in some disgusting alleyway. Practically in public, too. How nasty of you.”
The filth that he spews makes Hawks burn with shame and arousal alike, and he couldn’t stop the pitiful jerk of his hips if he tried. God, he fucking hates Dabi so much - especially when the smug smirk that the villain looks down at him with makes it obvious that he knows the alleged hatred is nothing more than a fabrication.
But they don’t talk about that.
No, it’s much easier to find each other in an alleyway, or a broom closet in the League headquarters, or up against the bathroom sink in Hawks’ Commission-funded apartment. To take out their stress and aggression and other feelings not to be named on each other, and feel good in the meantime.
And judging by the way Dabi moans, head tipping back to crack uncaringly against the brick wall, he feels good. Hawks feels a fierce kind of pride from that, the exact same mortal sin that keeps him coming back in the first place. There’s something so immensely satisfying about drawing such a visceral reaction from a man that seems determined to keep him at an arm’s length most of the time, and Hawks is becoming scarily addicted to it.
Dabi probably doesn’t mind. After all, that covetous desire usually leads to him getting his dick sucked, or Hawks bending over a sticky table top in that shitty League bar they used to frequent before they hit the big time. No harm, no foul.
“Hey, birdbrained motherfucker,” Dabi hisses, yanking Hawks’ hair hard enough to make him pull off with a hiss. “Did I say you could slack off?”
Hawks wipes his mouth clean of spit with the back of his hand, glaring up at him. “You should be more interesting if you want me to pay attention.”
Dabi’s eyes flash dangerously at that, an icy blue that burns just as bright as his flames. His grip tightens in Hawks’ hair - goddamn, he’s really gonna have to tell Dabi to lay off of that before he ends up ripping the strands right out - and suddenly his mouth is stuffed full again.
He makes a muffled noise of alarm, but Dabi’s hand is already right there cupping the back of his head, keeping him in place. “Thought you wanted me to keep your attention,” he practically sing-songs, and forces another two inches down his throat. Hawks whines, pushing at Dabi’s hips to make him move back, to no avail. He could push the villain off and free himself if he really wanted to, and they both know it.
His gag reflex kicks in, and while Dabi still doesn’t let him up, his voice softens as he instructs him through it. “Swallow, and your throat will relax. Calm down, you can take it.” And Hawks, being a good little soldier since the day he was bought by the Commission in the first place, obeys his orders. He swallows, and Dabi was right - his gag reflex eases up, and the head of his cock slides smoothly past it to glide into his throat.
It’s so much; he feels like he can’t breathe, can’t think straight past the cock buried so deep that he feels it in his lungs. He has the startling realization that it’s so far down his throat that he can’t even taste the steady drool of precum anymore, and the moan that tears from him is so loud and obscene that it echoes down the entire length of the alleyway.
“God, you fucking love it, don’t you?” If Hawks is hearing right, Dabi almost sounded impressed just then. “Who knew the hotshot number two hero would be such a fucking slut?”
Hawks doesn’t even have the capacity to object anymore. He simply moans again, not fighting as Dabi pushes at the back of his head once more. There’s not too much left - the last few inches carve their way into his throat, and his nose finally meets the coarse hair of Dabi’s dark happy trail.
The scent of him is thickest here, skin and sweat and sex, heated by the steam rolling off of him. He’s not sure if the smoky aroma comes from those shitty cigarettes that Dabi likes so much, or if the guy just naturally smells like that, but Hawks doesn’t care. Being this close, he can taste it all, and breathes it in greedily. There’s something else though, something not quite right. Artificial, maybe?
His eyes flutter open, and for the first time, he really takes an up close and personal look at Dabi’s happy trail. It’s as dark as his inky black hair, but rougher than he’d expect…
The puzzle pieces click together in his brain, and he snorts unattractively at the realization that Dabi must dye his hair all over. His amusement is just apparent enough that Dabi glares down at him, eyebrow cocked indignantly. “The fuck’s your deal?” he spits, and Hawks waves him off.
“Eh’s no-hing,” he gets around carefully around the mouthful of dick, mentally filing the knowledge away to give Dabi shit about later. For now, he wants to get skull fucked out of his mind. “Kee’ goin’.”
Dabi purses his lips, clearly uninterested in his shit. For a moment Hawks wonders if he broke the mood too much for them to continue, but his worries are proven unfounded when Dabi finally concedes with a terse “Whatever. No more distractions.” And then his hips snap forward, burying his cock to the hilt in Hawks’ waiting mouth. His eyes roll back in his head, and finally, finally, he yields to letting Dabi use him how they both like.
He gets lost in it now that Dabi has given up on holding back. Most of the time, he can’t breathe around the cock crammed down his throat; the few times he manages to steal a ragged breath, his lungs are instantly filled by smoke and sex all over again. Everything around him is Dabi, and Hawks is consumed.
That is, until a tap on his cheek calls him back into the present. He almost jolts with the sudden dose of fear that rockets through his veins upon being called out of his own head so suddenly, but Dabi’s hand is ridged with scarring and absolutely distinguishable. Somehow, knowing that it’s just Dabi makes Hawks relax more. When did he sink to this level? When did a wanted villain become a source of… of comfort, maybe, for him?
“Wha’?” Hawks garbles around the cock still pistoning into his mouth, blinking a few times as he regains his bearings. “Wha’ ‘oo wan’?” When he looks up, he finds Dabi already staring down at him, eyes bright with lust and something like desperation.
“Gonna cum,” Dabi tells him stiltedly, grip tightening in his hair. “Right down that throat of yours, pretty bird.”
The warning barely comes in time before hot cum is spilling into his mouth, thick and salty on his tongue. Hawks jerks, but the hand braced at the back of his head keeps him in place as Dabi keeps rolling his hips through the orgasm. Hawks can hear the low groan he lets out, and it almost softens him into inaction, but then Dabi croons “C’mon, sweetheart. Swallow for me.”
Hawks chokes then - no fucking way is he doing that, Dabi’s cum probably has the nutritional value of liquid nicotine and sewer water. As soon as Dabi relaxes the slightest bit, Hawks is wrenching backwards, pulling off of Dabi’s cock with a wet and gasping splutter. The grip on his hair makes his scalp scream as he tugs out of it, but it’s worth it to get his mouth free. Goddammit, he is not swallowing this asshole’s cum.
If he was feeling generous, maybe he would’ve turned his head to the side first. But no, he’s feeling particularly vengeful after the rough treatment, so he spits a thick glob of cum out of his mouth and directly onto Dabi’s scuffed yet beloved black boots.
“Fuck you,” he coughs, glaring up at Dabi fiercely. “Like hell I’m swallowing anything that comes out of that half-baked meat sack you call a body.”
Of course, his words have no weight behind them and they both know it. He’s spent too long openly ogling Dabi for either of them to believe that he’s not painfully fucking attracted to him - scars and stitches and all.
The grin on Dabi’s face doesn’t falter in the slightest, and Hawks reminds himself that he hates him.
“I wasn’t asking,” Dabi informs him smugly. His post-orgasm softening cock drips another bead of cum, and despite himself, Hawks is struck with the instinct to lick it off. God, what is this smarmy, self-assured asshole doing to him? And worse, why is Hawks letting him?
It’s then that electric, borderline painful pleasure rockets from between Hawks’ legs and pulses through his body like the throb of a fresh bruise. Dabi’s boot, soiled as it is, presses against Hawks’ neglected erection meanly. The worst part is that Hawks moans, a reedy and pathetic little sound that echoes off the unyielding brick walls around them.
Dabi catches him by the chin, grip tight enough to make his jaw creak under the force. Getting out from the grasp would hurt, but Hawks could do it with minimal exertion. Knowing he could leave and is choosing not to - now that’s what really makes Hawks nothing more than a filthy slut.
He burns under Dabi’s all too knowing gaze, scowling at the way his cock jumps under the attention. “If you want to cum,” Dabi enunciates slowly, like Hawks is an idiot, “then you’ll clean up your mess.”
The threat makes Hawks bristle, and that’s when he fruitlessly tries to yank himself free. The lack of any real effort in doing so doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.
“Give it up, baby,” Dabi goads, like he’s already won. He has. “Don’t pretend you’re not gagging for it, you’re hard as a goddamn rock.”
Figures that Hawks’ own body would work against him. He weighs his options - get the thrilling high of refusing Dabi’s demands and invoking his ire, or get the satisfaction of getting off. His cock twitches in his pants, and there’s only one real answer.
He frowns to himself, but lowers his head in compliance. His tongue has just slipped out to start the dirty work when Dabi quietly interrupts.
“Kiss it first.”
That’s it. Hawks lurches up in protest, ready to rip this bastard’s head off, but the boot against his cock presses down harder. He mewls involuntarily, more kitten than predatory raptor, and tips forward until his hands brace weakly on denim-clad thighs to steady himself.
“I hate you,” he grumbles petulantly, looking up at Dabi with accusing eyes.
Dabi’s smile somehow grows a touch softer at that. “No, you don’t.”
Hawks doesn’t object - partially because he’s right, and partially because he’s too stunned by the rare sight of what looks to be tenderness on such a dangerous face. But before he can dissect if it was real or not, his head is grabbed and shoved down until his face meets supple leather.
“Now get to work.”
Keeping his head down this time, he places a small kiss to the top of one of Dabi’s boots, and then the other. “You’re a controlling bastard, anybody ever tell you that?” he complains, not that Dabi answers. When Hawks looks up through his lashes, the power tripping asshole is just watching him openly, clearly getting off on making Hawks his bitch like this. Maybe Hawks would object to it, if he wasn’t aching to come.
His tongue laps gingerly over the stained leather, and he makes a disgusted little noise of protest as he passes over the first glob of cum. It’s bitter, just as salty as that initial burst was when Dabi first came in his mouth, but cooler now. Hawks’s expression pinches, but he dutifully drags his tongue over each soiled spot, until both boots are shiny with spit and clear of cum once more.
He’d never admit it, but each thick swallow of Dabi’s cum only makes him more desperately aroused. His tongue feels raw from the scrape of the leather stitching, and his throat aches from the fucking, and he’s so hard it hurts.
“Happy now?” he asks gruffly, and lifts his head to look at Dabi once more. He lets his jaw slacken and lips part, showing that he hasn’t chickened out of swallowing the cum. Every last drop, meticulously licked up and swallowed. “Now you owe me, it’s my turn.”
Dabi chuckles derisively, and taps the tip of his cock against Hawks’s cheek. Hawks doesn’t pointedly squirm away like he should, but he doesn’t indulge in the desire to shift closer either.
“What, did you think that you were done? I said clean up your mess, didn’t I? I meant all of it.”
Hawks childishly sticks his tongue out at him in response; Dabi only laughs, and rubs the head of his cock along the flat of it. “Go on. Tell you what: you can even touch yourself while you do it. I know you get off on being a good whore for me. Don’t you, greedy bird?”
As much as Hawks wants to argue against it, he can’t. He just points a sullen look up at him and gets to work, tongue laving and swirling to clean off the few drops of cum that remain. And goddammit, Dabi was right. He shoves his hand down his pants the moment he gets the taste of smoky release on his tongue again, and he hastily jerks himself off to the sound of Dabi’s mean laugh.
Fuck this, Hawks thinks furiously to himself. Fuck Dabi, fuck the Commission, fuck this shitty alleyway, fuck his own inability to say no to Dabi’s deadly smirk and alluring eyes. He’s so annoyed and turned on - and consequently more annoyed by the fact that he’s turned on - that he hardly notices when Dabi drops to his knees in front of him.
That is, until he’s yanked in by front of his uniform into a shockingly soft kiss.
He moans in surprise against Dabi’s chapped lips - and because Hawks is a fucking embarrassment to himself, he comes immediately. One moment of a kiss and he’s spilling thick and hot into his own boxers, tacking up the inside and making him feel disgustingly sticky.
“You did that on purpose,” he gasps, ragged and breathy from the force of the orgasm that Dabi just forced from him. “Fucking bastard-“
“You’re the one who came from a kiss,” Dabi jeers in return as he rises back to his feet, but there’s a forced casualness to his tone. It sounds deceptive, maybe a little concealing - like Hawks wasn’t the only one surprised by how quickly he came from a simple kiss.
If Hawks lets himself think about it, he might acknowledge that it’s less about the kiss itself and more about who’s behind it. Naturally, he doesn’t let himself think about it.
Instead, he withdraws his hand from his boxers, wiping the cum off his fingers with a noise of disgust. “Great. Now I have to fly home in wet pants, thanks a lot.” Which, it’s not the first time he’s done that in the time since he and Dabi started hooking up. It doesn’t ever get more fun though.
Dabi merely laughs at him, which is expected. Then he extends one scarred hand down to help Hawks up, which is very much not expected.
Hawks eyes the offering warily. He knows that Dabi is the type of asshole to help him halfway up and then drop him on his ass on the cold concrete just for a good laugh. Not that Hawks couldn’t take it, but there’s only so much damage his ego can take in one night.
His contemplation is interrupted by Dabi sighing in exasperation. “I’m not going to bite you, christ. Just trying to help your sorry ass up. Take it or leave it.”
Just before Dabi retracts his hand out of spite, Hawks latches on to it, and uses the grip to haul himself up. At the same time, Dabi is clearly expecting to have to help more than he does; he puts some muscle behind hefting Hawks to his feet, and between both of them pulling, Hawks winds up stumbling forward against Dabi’s chest.
Their foreheads knock together painfully, both men groaning at the sharp collision of skulls. “Fuck, since when are you a klutz?” Dabi bites out, pushing Hawks away none-too-gently and rubbing agitatedly at his forehead. “I thought bird bones were supposed to be hollow, fuck.”
Hawks rolls his eyes at him, rubbing at his own forehead in turn to soothe the throb away. “Not my skull, jackass. I’m still at least part human.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Neither do you.”
Dabi snorts, and Hawks preens as he recognizes the noise as Dabi’s disguise of a laugh. In the surprisingly companionate quiet that follows, they shuffle back into their clothes and tuck everything back into position, zipping up pants and straightening rumpled shirts.
Hawks has just affixed his belt back into place when he feels scarred fingers gently carding through his hair. He stiffens, head slowly lifting to follow the path of Dabi’s arm from where his hand brushes through his hair, all the way back to his shoulder. “What are you doing,” he basically states, more flat from surprise than a question should be.
“Nothing.” Dabi’s hand retreats, and Hawks immediately misses it. “You just had a serious case of blowjob hair, that’s all.”
There’s a beat of silence, in which neither of them move or say anything.
Then Dabi continues, more quietly than before. “And… I don’t know, I yanked you around pretty good there. Does it hurt?” His boots scuff on the grimy ground, and Hawks realizes then that Dabi is concerned about him. That knowledge makes his heart swoop, breath catching in his abused throat.
“Nah,” he replies breezily, giving Dabi an easy smile and ignoring the telltale thud of his traitorous heartbeat in his chest. “I like it rough, remember?”
Dabi doesn’t seem to relax much from that answer, so Hawks changes tacks. He’s always been better suited for distraction anyway.
“Hey, staples,” he calls for his attention and waits for Dabi to look at him again. Finally chilly blue eyes meet his again, and Hawks breathes a quiet sigh of relief before continuing. “I noticed something earlier. Wanted to ask you about it.”
Dabi’s eyebrows draw together in clear confusion, but he gestures for him to continue. Hawks tries not to look too obviously pleased about it.
“Soooooo,” he drawls knowingly, reaching up to tug at one of Dabi’s emo boy hair spikes. “This is obviously a shitty box dye job. But you really dye your pubes, too? I knew you were edgy, but this is next level.”
His distraction ploy works. Dabi groans, and not in the bone-rattlingly sexy way he’d been doing just minutes before. “I’m so fucking sick of you. Weren’t you busy going home just now?”
“No,” Hawks crows, ignoring Dabi’s scowl in favor of grinning unabashedly at him. “Bothering you is way more entertaining.” He ignores Dabi’s aggravated little growl too, hopping closer to drape an arm around his shoulders amicably. “You really needed the carpet to match the drapes that bad?”
Dabi scrubs one hand down his face, looking pained. And noticeably, doesn’t push Hawks away. “I don’t know why I keep you around. You’re the worst.”
The words are said seriously enough that most others might think Dabi really meant it. But over the course of their time together, Hawks has gotten to the point of thinking he can read him pretty well. Not that he really needs to read him at this moment - if Dabi was done with him, he’d simply shove him off and walk away now without another word. The fact that he’s still here, even as Hawks snips at him, is telling.
And Hawks isn’t actually the worst, so he pats Dabi’s back reassuringly, encouraging him to start walking with him out of the alley and back to the main street. On the way home, yes, but maybe not alone.
“Sorry, Dabs. You know I love to tease.” He punctuates the apology with a kiss just above the staple lines on Dabi’s cheek. Dabi stays silent, but the look in his eyes speaks volumes. “Let me make it up to you. How about later tonight? Round two, maybe in a real bed this time?”
Striking blue eyes narrow thoughtfully at him, but Dabi nods decisively. “You better.”
Hawks grins.
“Who fucking dyes their pubes anyway, you freak-” he prods all over again, laughing like a goddamn lunatic when Dabi shoves him and he nearly stumbles right into the brick wall.
“I hate you,” Dabi tells him. “Fucking birdbrain.”
Hawks beams back at him, self-satisfied and all too knowing. “No, you don’t.”
And Dabi doesn’t object.