Kneeling
nsfw ( 18+ ). DabiHawks. contains kneeling, boot grinding, semi public sexual behavior (in the league's hideout). consent is mildly dubious. Support this fic on Ao3 ( link )
Summary: it takes Dabi approximately two hours to get bored of just keeping Hawks on his knees
"Don't you look good down there." The permanent grin stitched into the villain's face curved into a sharp smirk — one part cruel, one part pleased. Sinfully familiar turquoise eyes slowly roved down the other's body, pulling with them a heat that seemed to burn through his skin, straight into his veins. And Dabi took his time, taking in every detail of the hero. Of how Hawks, the commissions poster child, was on his knees on sticky tile, in front of him. Taking in the sight of the hero's face, flushed with embarrassment that mixed tantalizingly with the arousal that was tightening the front of those khaki pants. And taking in how — somehow — that damned mask still held true. How Hawks' expression bordered on aloof as he gazed up at Dabi, posture positively relaxed.
Hawks' heart lept in his chest, heat twisted in the pit of his stomach as the other's gaze lingered, a moment too long on the outline of Hawks' arousal, as a boot moved to nudge his legs further apart. If not for his training, he would have been writhing under the weight of the villain's gaze — but he managed to keep that under lock and key, gaze lifting to meet that damned turquoise as a smirk of his own danced across his features.
"Awh, thank you~" His voice was light, bordering on playful, as if the anticipation hadn't been driving him mad.
Two hours — his body wasn't nearly as sore as it could have been. Compared to routes, sitting at attention on his knees was only mildly uncomfortable. The sitting still part was far harder than the position — that, and how Dabi's words were slowly chipping at his resolve. How his voice, rough with smoke and lust, wrapped around each word. How he fluctuated between harsh teasing — near insulting — and coos of praise. How the heat of the villain's tone melded into the moment, the vulnerability, and sent tendrils of need to the pit of his stomach.
Perhaps it was just that — that perfected act — that was getting under Dabi's skin. Perhaps it was his impatience, the goal of waiting for the hero to crack conflicting with his own desire in a volatile cocktail that left his fingers twitching with hostile warmth.
Dabi's boot pressed between the hero's thighs, pulling a near yelp of a gasp from his lips, golden eyes widening before the act snapped back into place — but still his thighs trembled with effort as he forced himself not to press into the pressure, not to seek something after hours of nothing.
The villain's smirk only widened at the reactions — as subtle as they were, they had far from gone unnoticed. His boot pressed firmer beneath him, gaze taking in every little change that twitched briefly across the hero's features.
"I'm tempted t' keep you there all night. You're a good decoration, Birdy." The words were empty — Dabi knew where they would end up by the end of the night — but they still garnered the desired reaction. Still pulled the softest trill of a whine from the hero's throat.
Hawks' cock throbbed, twitching within the confines of his pants, as if seeking the frictionvthat was so temptingly close. His face burned as his flush deepened, as it crept up his ears, breath threatening to catch in his throat with every shift of Dabi's damned boot.
"Is that all I am to you? I'm hurt." The casual tone was strained with the effort it took to sound calm — to mask how much he needed the villain. His gaze never left the other's, almost challenging ( even if he knew better ).
Dabi shifted his boot again, pressing it firm into Hawks' crotch, smirk widening almost painfully as he watched the Hero's resolve begin to crack. "Hardly. You're also a pretty plaything."
The pressure was dizzying, Hawks' hips pressing involuntarily into the other's boot, a low whine forming in his throat before he could stop it. He had been doing an okay job at ignoring exactly how hard he had gotten, how precum was soaking into the front of his boxers, but the press of Dabi's boot snapped everything back to the front of his mind with disorienting speed.
"You— You think I'm pretty? How sweet." The words were meant to be light, teasing, almost a singsong laugh, but they came out in a gasp, voice a slight whine as he struggled to regain his composure.
And god, it was like seeing something divine. Dabi couldn't pry his gaze away from him, mouth dry as he watched how the boy's thighs trembled, how his hips pressed forward with instinctive desperation, how those involuntary whimpers formed in his throat like birdsong.
Dabi had seen beauty before, had felt lust and desire, but the heat that flooded his body watching the hero come undone was addictive, was like a dream that he never wanted to leave.
His own arousal throbbed, hand moved to slowly palm himself as he pressed his boot firmer into the little bird's own, voice breathless when he finally found his words again.
"There, Birdy. It isn't hard to let go, is it?" The breathlessly teasing coo that enveloped his words sent a shiver down Hawks' spine, heat coiling tighter as it pulsed through his veins. "See, good boy…"
And it was that - the praise - that was finally Hawks' undoing. His hips jerked again, a gasp falling from his lips, hands moving from where they had been gripping his own pants to instead fist into the fabric of Dabi's own.
It was pathetic, clinging to the villain's leg as he let himself rut against his boot like a desperate slut, but it was that pathetic, vulnerable loss of control that Dabi was responding to, that pulled more praise from his lips that shot through Hawks like an aphrodisiac.
"Oh good boy—" The praise was almost a moan, Dabi's hand fumbling to unbutton his pants and free his cock, the other tangling promptly into Hawks' hair, angling his head up so he could see the desperation in his eyes now that that damned mask had fallen away. "Fuuck, Hawks…"
The tug to his hair immediately redirected Hawks' gaze, his hips jerking harder, eyes blown wide with submissive desire — even as the moan of his name pulled that smirk back to his lips.
"Mhn— G-Guess you really do think 'm pretty—"
His words were gasps, moans that tried to pretend to be snarky, but the intent came across. Soot-stained fingers tightened in his hair, pulling a pained gasp from his lips as his head was all but wrenched back.
"Watch it, or I'll put that pretty mouth to use, Hero."
And he couldn't help but smirk wider, even as whimpers and moans formed in his throat. He couldn't help but let his mouth lull open, a teasing dare that sent heat straight to the pit of Dabi's stomach.
Yeah, he knew exactly where they would end up tonight.
