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"You've never...?" Enji lets the question trail off, pausing where he's half-pushed Keigo's shirt up.
With a breathy laugh, the smaller man wraps his arms around his neck, "when would I have ever?"
"A young man like you—" His hand continues up.
"— owned by the government? Yeah, like I have so much free t-time." His voice catches with Enji's thumb across his nipple.
"Mmmmm. Then let me show you what you've been missing," Enji's voice drops down to a rumble, and he pulls Keigo's shirt up over his head, so that they're both half-naked.
"Please, Daddy~" Keigo's voice, as always, is teasing. Quickly smothered by a kiss. And kissing Enji is everything he imagined it would be, since he was a teenager. He tastes as deep as smoke, and he's so warm, so incredibly warm, that pressing up against him turns Keigo's skin red.
"Do you really have to keep calling me that?" Enji murmurs into his ear once he's thoroughly kissed him, running more kisses up his jaw to his ear.
"You like it." He knows he likes it, because every time he says it Enji's grip on him tightens. "Daddy," he repeats, cheeky.
The muscular thigh between his legs presses up. Keigo grinds down. He's already hard— he's been hard since Enji picked him up, and he realized what was going to happen. That this was really, finally happening.
"Mmmmmm..." The hand on his lower back forces him to arch up enough that Enji can pull his pants down to where his thigh is pressed. From there, his paramour can touch him, the way no one has ever touched him before, wrapping a hand around him. And, God, that hand— his huge hand, which swallows him easily, his palm rough, warm— so warm. For a moment, Keigo stops thinking about anything else. Just the feeling of skin against skin...
Keigo pulls Enji’s head down, so that he can bury his face in his neck, his lips parting slightly in a gasp. "Yes— Daddy, please..."
“You are incorrigible,” Enji says against his skin, his stubble rough against Keigo’s cheek. Keigo smiles, unable to control it. How many times has he dreamed about this?
Keigo’s hips work, forcing Enji to keep stroking him, fucking himself into his hand. “I… I used to… pretend this was happening, jerking off. As a teenager. I kept every magazine spread of you I could find…” He kept them under his bed the way that other people kept porn stashes— one of the only personal touches in the otherwise spartan room he lived in before the commission allowed him to have his own apartment after his debut.
The hand moves off of his cock, tangling in Keigo’s hair to pull his head back. Then Enji hooks a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. Keigo’s eyes crinkle with his smile, despite the ache Enji’s absence left between his legs. “Little bird.” A sigh. “Stop reminding me how young you are.”
“You don’t like that I’m young enough to be your—"
“No.” Enji kisses his mouth, kisses his eyes.
Enji starts laying him back, on the bed, but Keigo clings tighter to him. “Don’t put me on my back. My wings. I don’t like that position.”
“Of course.” Enji lifts him back up. “I should have anticipated.”
No one said things like that to Keigo, normally. They tended to ignore his needs and wants; he was a role to most people. To the commission he was a tool to mitigate crime; to civilians he was a nameless hero without a personal life; to his friends… Keigo didn’t have friends. He didn’t have a family.
Enji was the first person he’d said his real name to in over a decade. With a flutter, he wraps his wings around the two of them, as Enji situates him in his lap. It’s like a safe bubble, a gesture of possession. And! That way he can tease Enji with a few of his feathers, trailing them over his arms and legs.
“Use one of those to get to the lube, since you’ve locked me in,” There’s a trace of amusement in Enji’s voice, which fills Keigo with delight. He rarely hears Enji happy, so when it’s because of him— well, these days it’s mostly because of him, isn’t it?
“I’m not letting you get away after waiting this long,” Keigo responds, and he sends a feather out to get the lube from the bedside table, depositing it into Enji’s waiting hand.
“I don’t want to get away, Keigo. I want you here.” Enji takes one of Keigo’s hands and squeezes the lube onto his palm. He moves that hand down to his cock, and the moment Keigo wraps his hand around it he felt his heart skip a few beats.
“You are so— you are huge,” he breathes, working the lube over Enji’s cock. Enji’s… huge fucking cock— holy shit, I knew it would be big but this is… “I practiced, but I wasn’t accurate.”
Enji, who had closed his eyes the moment Keigo started touching him, opens them again, and raises an eyebrow. “You practiced?”
“Mmmhmm. With dildos. I told you,” Keigo flashes him a grin, “I did a lot of pretending it was you.”
A soft laugh, behind closed lips. “You should find someone your own age.”
“You can keep saying that, but it isn’t going to happen,” Keigo tries to picture Enji’s length inside of him, fully inside of him, and can’t quite manage it. “Is this going to—“
“Yes.” Enji lubricates his own fingers, lifting Keigo enough to work one into him. Which is nothing: Keigo can take that much. Even if Enji’s fingers are much, much thicker than his.
“I can take it,” Keigo says quietly, half to himself, as Enji slips in another finger.
“Good boy,” Enji replies, and Keigo’s entire being throbs with need. If he could, he would record that— just that— and make it the sound that played when Enji texted him. He files that thought away for later.
Under his hands, Enji is heating up, and Keigo wonders if he’ll get hot enough to burn him, if he’ll get hot enough to mark him. He doubts it, in the same measure he wants it, the amount of control that he has over the quirk. But it turns him on, the idea that he could make Enji lose control.
Another finger joins the first two, and Keigo whimpers. A sound that Enji reacts to, leaning into him, his cock twitching in his hand. Keigo wants to be closer to him, he wants to taste him— Keigo pushes himself up further on Enji’s lap, so that he can kiss his neck. So that he can bite his shoulders, the saltiness of sweat hitting his tongue.
A fourth finger. Keigo moans, his wings wrapping closer, feathers pressing against Enji’s bare back. “That’s not as thick, is it?” he asks.
Enji smiles. “No, little bird. It’s not.”
“Fuck,” Keigo moves up and down the fingers inside of him, experimenting with the feeling. “That’s— I can take it,” he repeats, more determined.
“I know you can. You’re going to.” Enji keeps him there for a minute, working him open. Keigo wonders just how many people he’d been with, and how long it's been. He’ll have to ask, after this. Right now, he doesn’t want to think of anyone but them.
“Fuck me up, daddy,” Keigo moans, and Enji pauses in his movement.
“Keigo,” he scolds, and Keigo breathlessly laughs.
“Please, please, please —“
“Hmph.” Enji’s fingers withdraw, and he pulls Keigo closer, the smaller man wrapping his legs around his waist. “If you insist.”
One of Enji’s hands presses to the place in his back between his wings, the other takes over where Keigo’s hand has been working, angling himself up to take Keigo.
Finally, this. Finally. Keigo has dreamed of Enji fucking him for so long he feels a little light-headed. It’s gentler than he imagined so many times; Enji is slow. It’s probably for the best, Keigo, in his enthusiasm, would have pushed too fast. He still wants to.
“Good boy,” Enji says into his ear, voice a growl, “taking your daddy so well.”
He’s playing along! Enji’s voice cuts through him, and he tries to push himself only for Enji to catch his thigh, forcing him to slow down.
"My pace," he says.
Yours. Keigo can feel Enji's cock stretching him even further than the fingers had, than anything ever had. Enji fills him. Just up against the edge of pain. Keigo kisses him, biting his bottom lip, biting his tongue when it interferes-- until Enji grabs him by the hair and Keigo acquiesces back to normal kisses. His legs around Enji's waist are tight enough to shake.
Despite his determination to take all of Enji, he isn't sure he's going to be able to when Enji stops moving and says, "that's halfway."
Halfway. Only halfway. Keigo swallows, his forehead pressing to Enji's. "... I got it. It's good."
Enji's thumb strokes his cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you, baby boy."
Baby boy, the phrase makes him weak. "It's not hurting me."
Enji nods once, lowering him further, and Keigo chirps, a sound that makes him blush immediately. Another soft laugh from Enji. "Embarrassed by that, little bird? I want to know every part of you."
It's more than just being turned on, more than desperation. When Enji says things like that, Keigo feels like he's stepped out of the story written for him. He feels... free. This is his choice. His want. His need. Keigo hums, low in his throat, nuzzling up to Enji before chirping again. Enji pulls him fully down in one final push, so that he's split open by him, filled by him. He can't move, he can't breathe without feeling Enji's cock holding him open. There's no tightening up around him.
"D-daddy—" he moans. "Daddy.”
"I've got you, baby boy," Enji's hand heats up, between his wings, hot enough to make him arch his back away with a cry. That was a sensitive area, more so than other places. (Something Enji had discovered while helping Keigo preen his wings.) "Shhh, shhh." Enji doesn't let him move away from the hand, keeping up the heat until he's burned a very light handprint between the feathers.
"Did you just... mark me?" Keigo asks with a grin. "In such a sensitive—"
"Yes," Enji moves his hips slightly, and Keigo moans, his wings now wrapped around them as tightly as possible.
"Ah, ah, that's... Enji..." For all of Keigo's flirting, his pushing, his blatant sexual innuendos, he is completely out of his depth now that he's actually riding Enji's cock. "Sl-slow."
"Now you want me to slow down? You were trying to force yourself down a moment ago. I thought you could take it." Enji's teasing him, something Keigo has only recently started to pick up on, and he whimpers. His hips move again, slower. It's still overwhelming, but Keigo grits his teeth.
"Okay..." His arms are wrapped around Enji's neck, like he's drowning and Enji is the only piece of land available. "I'm okay."
"Relax." Enji commands. "You'll get used to it."
"I- I am. I am." Keigo doesn't want to go anywhere else; he wants to stay here as long as possible.
"Good boy," no matter how many times he hears it, it tears through him. Keigo this time taking the initiative, moves his hips. "Fuck." But less overwhelming. Less overwhelming.
Another small movement. Enji strokes his thigh, as if soothing him. I love you, I love you. I've always loved you. Stay with me. Please. You're everything to me. Keigo's movements get more and more confident, and he starts to rock his hips faster.
And then Enji is fucking him— like he'd imagined it. Like he'd never thought possible. His hands on his hips, bouncing him up and down on his cock: fucking him.
Keigo shouts his name. Enji, Enji, Enji, Enji— Until his throat is sore. Like he can burn this into his memory the same way Enji burned a handprint into him. Like it would make it more real, more believable, if he said it enough. And Enji calls him a good boy, his baby boy, his little bird. Every single time the words cut him, reduce him back to the desperate, needy teenager he'd been, jerking off to a shirtless picture of his hero.
Enji is strong, stable, and hot. Physically hot. They're pressed chest to chest, the light in the room low, lamp red through his wings. And Keigo comes far too soon. Far sooner than he wants to.
Enji pulls out of him slowly, the feeling of his cock dragging over his entrance overstimulating. Once he's fully out of him, he shifts Keigo into his arms, so that he can lay on his back, Keigo tucked into the crook of his arm. With another contented little chirp, he lays his head on Enji's shoulder, his hand searching for a moment across his toned stomach before finding his cock again, messily jerking him off until he comes over his own stomach.
“I love you,” Keigo says, sleepily, unable to help himself, gently stroking Enji’s chest again and again. Underneath his hand, he can feel Enji deeply sigh.
“You don’t. You hardly know me.”
“I know you. I know who you want to be. I’ve always loved you.” Keigo’s wings drape over them, hanging over each side of the bed, completely relaxed.
Enji kisses his forehead, the weight of his arm settling over his waist. “You can do better. You could date someone your own age. Someone good for you.”
“Enji, I’m not good— I want you to know me, too. I…” Keigo doesn’t want this to be a one night stand; he doesn’t want this to be something that they move past. He’s been too vulnerable here: it scares him to be Takami Keigo at all. With a grimace, he tucks one of his wings a little more over Enji specifically. “I don’t have a joke here. I meant to have a joke here… so I guess I’m asking you to love me back.”
Keigo meets Enji’s eyes, because he wasn’t taught how to hide, and if he’s going to be disappointed, he wants to know immediately. As always, Enji is difficult to read. Keigo tries not to be difficult to read. He doesn’t like to be difficult to read. He wants, in the face of everything he is, to be someone reliable. Transparent.
“Keigo,” Enji strokes down the feathers of the wing draped over him. “If I could resist you, I would have done it.”
Okay. Keigo tries not to overthink that answer. He’s decided that he trusts Enji, so he’ll trust Enji. “Okay.”