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Dabi’s a bit of an odd bird, and Hawks, with his wrists roped to the headboard and his legs spread so wide his hips are starting to ache, is beginning to realize that he might be just as insane.
“Fuck!” he cries, snapping his head back so sharply he hears something in his neck crack. Dabi was kind enough to set him up with pillows before they started, so he doesn’t bash his head into the headboard, but it’s a close thing. There’s a string of spit that connects his bottom lip to his teeth when he opens his mouth to heave.
Dabi comes up from his cunt with a gasp, wild-eyed. The bottom half of his face is smeared with blood, thick and dark where it drips through his seams and down his chin. He giggles, grins, flicks his split tongue over his teeth, and dips back below the awkward tilt of Hawks’s pelvis propped up by a stack of very-cheap and very-ruined pillows. A messy clot of blood-spit-cum drips from his hole, cooled by the time it’s sliding through his asscheeks.
Hawks is so sensitive that it hurts. Dabi keeps eating him out anyway, fevered and flushed. He has both thumbs hooked into Hawks’s rim to hold him open, massaging his walls from the inside. Hawks, with his feathers crushed and crumpled beneath him, can hear every time he swallows. His compression shirt, rucked to his ribs, clings to him like a second skin.
He’s lost count of how many times he’s already cum tonight.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Hawks says, babbles. His thighs seize, draw up towards his chest. His fingers, still gloved, curl into the fray of the ropes. He tugs, uselessly. “Da bi- cumming, I’m cumming again-”
Dabi groans, loud and animal like a snarl. It’s high, excited, and crackling, and it vibrates through Hawks’s entire cunt, prolonging the crest of his orgasm. He feels this one in his stomach, sharp like a cramp. The split of Dabi’s tongue curls around his clit and sucks; Hawks arches, shouts a low, guttural bird call, cums and shakes as Dabi slurps it directly from his core.
“Dabi!” he cries when Dabi doesn’t let up, pulling his elbows in in a downward motion. He doesn’t get far on account of the ropes, and his knees kind of just bonk the sides of Dabi’s head when he tries to jerk them shut. Dabi unlatches from his clit but doesn’t really come up for air; instead, he shoves his entire too-long, split-and-stitched tongue into Hawks’s cunt and wiggles it beside his knuckles like he’s licking his fingers free of food. Hawks wails and is very, very glad for the quirk that keeps this room soundproofed.
“W’nna f’ck you,” Dabi slurs into his cunt. Hawks is trembling to his toes, feet braced and curled against Dabi’s shoulders. He pushes, and Dabi pushes back, Hawks’s unstoppable force to his immovable object.
Hawks teeters the dangerous precipice between pain and pleasure and doesn’t fight him all that hard. It takes him several seconds to understand what Dabi’s just said. His wrists spasm in their binding. He could break free, if he really wanted to. He doesn’t.
“Don’t- ah- don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hawks tells him, eyes pinched shut. His breath punches from his lungs like shotgun blasts.
“F’ck you,” Dabi says, still in his cunt, muffled and barely coherent. Hawks hears him better this time, can feel the vibrations from his throat in his swollen labia. His core flutters.
“Ohhh fuck,” he warbles, long and low, and cums again. He feels it deep in his belly once again, tight around the navel; it draws a groan out of him that matches Dabi’s starvation, bubbled up from somewhere deep in his guts. His feathers rattle, shake; blood gushes around Dabi’s tongue and Dabi all but sobs into his hole as he humps against the side of the mattress.
“Lemme fuck you,” he says, gasps, drawing away entirely. Blood drips down his chin, mottled almost black around the scarring of his jaw. Hawks, when he opens his eyes, is seeing double. “Please,” Dabi says, and then, with intensity, “please.” His eyes are wild when he looks at him, pupils blown big and wide like dinner plates. His chest heaves. When he climbs to his knees, his cock is hard and leaking down the shaft, loose from the open fly of his jeans. Hawks clenches around nothing, feels a messy glob of cum and blood and spit drool from his hole.
When Dabi slots between his thighs, he splays his palms over the insides of Hawks’s knees and smears his skin with blood. His cock bobs against his mound. Hawks moans, deep and guttural.
“Yes,” he says. Dabi swoops in to kiss him. One hand leaves his leg to fumble with his cock, knuckles thumping his clit. Hawks gasps when they break apart, chases Dabi’s lips with his teeth. He doesn’t get far, still tethered to the headboard. He licks over his own mouth instead, swallows the acrid tang of iron, flutters his lashes up at Dabi who hasn’t so much as blinked. “You’re so fucking disgusting.”
Dabi shudders, taps the length of his cock against his cunt. Wetness splatters, further stains the sheets; the sound echoes, buzzes in his ears. Hawks can taste the blood from his own cunt in his nose, breathes it in the air as he pants through his gasping mouth. Dabi ruts absently, almost lazily, in direct contrast with his earlier desperation. He’s doing his best, but Hawks can see him shaking as he lets the head of his dick part his sticky labia, bottom lip drawn between his teeth.
The white of his pre smears itself pink.
“Fuck me,” Hawks says, hooks an ankle around Dabi’s hip to tap his heel against his ass. He’s shaking, too. “Come on.”
Dabi huffs, grumbles a soft “don’t tell me what to do, Hero” under his breath, but dutifully pinches the slippery head of his cock beneath his thumb to guide it properly to Hawks’s hole. He pops easily through the rim, lets go of his cock to settle both bloody palms to the underside of Hawks’s thighs, and fucks himself inside in one smooth motion.
Hawks all but yowls, cumming, probably, before Dabi’s even fully seated himself. Stars burst behind his eyelids; his tongue tangles around a swear. The sound Dabi makes in response isn’t a cheer, but it’s close. His hips smack against Hawks’s ass with an audible clap, and when Hawks yanks his arms towards his chest, the rope digs, burns raw around his wrists. He can’t feel his fingers. He’s drooling, eyes rolled half back in his head.
“Yes yes yes!” He hears himself cry out as if from a distance, gasped and watery. His vision blurs. He gushes noisily around Dabi’s dick, the cockhead snug against his cervix.
“Oh fuck,” Dabi says, all wobbly. He’s grinning, so wide it stretches his gums. The seams in his wrists are smoking, and so are the ones beneath his eyes. He leans in to lick a long, wet stripe up Hawks’s jaw, shoves his tongue into his mouth. Hawks sucks the twin tips behind his teeth, gags on them a little when Dabi next thrusts into him. Dabi leans back and licks the drool from his own chin. He’s panting. His teeth gleam.
Hawks’s blood is matted in the hair that frames his belly button. The sight sends a nasty zing through his hindbrain. He warbles, vision blurring.
Dabi frames his clit with two fingers, knuckles knobby on either side. He rolls it free of the hood, curls his fingers and rubs in time with the jerky, too-quick rhythm of his hips. Dabi hikes one of his legs, rests his ankle over the pointed jut of his collarbone. It splits him wide, smarts up the back of his knee; Hawks is cumming again in seconds, so hard it ripples through him. He groans, gurgles something incoherent that makes Dabi giggle like a maniac and dig his nails into his bloody, sweat-slick thigh.
“You can’t get pregnant, right?” he asks, breathless. His pelvis knocks roughly into Hawks’s, jostles his own fingers where they fumble with his clit. He’s too wet to get a grip on.
Hawks shakes his head, chokes a wobbly “no” that hardly sounds like a real word when he actually says it out loud . His bangs drip sweat into his eyes. His cunt constricts, spasms, squelches loud enough to make him blush.
“Good,” Dabi continues, winced. His chest, flushed bright pink where it isn’t scarred-over, heaves. Hawks’s foot bounces by his ear; Dabi licks up his ankle, grazes his blood-clotted canines over the bone, bites down just hard enough to make them both moan. “I’m cumming inside.”
Hawks groans, garbled and loud. His toes curl in the air; he’s going to die here, like this, with his hands tied above his head and his cunt stuffed with cock. “You’re such a fucking freak,” he says, slurred around the weight of his tongue. He’s grinning. He can feel little clots stuck between his teeth. “Bet you wish you could get me pregnant, you sick fuck,” he spits, ignoring the way his pussy flutters and goes tight at the thought. He feels almost dizzy with it, how full he is. Dabi giggles at him, surges forward to harshly suck his bottom lip into his mouth, between his mangled teeth, drops Hawks’s leg back around his hip. “Oh fuck,” Hawks says, gasps, spine tingling. His feathers fluff up beneath the arch of his back.
Dabi spills inside him and doesn’t stop. His hips tremble minutely where Hawks’s knees rest on either side of them, one scarred and one smooth. The bite in Hawks’s ankle stings, sliding over staples.
“Gonna- fuck, gonna keep going,” Dabi says. His breath comes in short, sharp rasps. His hands leave Hawks’s thighs to brace on either side of his head instead, ruining those pillows, too. Sweat drips down the curve of his nose; Hawks opens his mouth to catch it on his tongue, moans and pants and licks up the side of Dabi’s face when he leans in closer to kiss him again.
“Taste so good,” Hawks slurs, more than a little cock-drunk. Dabi snort-giggles against the over-hot skin of his cheek, nuzzles the pierced side of his nose into his cheekbone, then into his nose.
“You too,” he says, gnawing at the swell of Hawks’s cheek. He doesn’t bite down, not really, just settles his teeth against the skin like a warning. Hawks moans and nips at his jaw, less playful. “Fuck in’- hah- Fuckin’ freak,” Dabi says, spits, turning his teeth to Hawks’s bottom lip. “Wanna eat you up.” He licks into Hawks’s mouth, flicks his tongue again and again along the ridges at the roof of his mouth like he’s trying to get a taste of him. Hawks shudders bodily through another orgasm and pointedly doesn’t bite down, just in case. Dabi groans into his mouth, thrusts stuttering.
“Yessss,” Hawks hisses, hiccups. His fingertips tingle with pinpricks. “Yes, god, eat me.”
His throat rumbles like he’s purring. His cunt squelches like sloshing water. Dabi kisses him again. It isn’t gentle, but it doesn’t hurt. His balls slap the bottom of Hawks’s cunt hard enough to bruise in the shape of him. His nails, blunt, claw blooming lines up the backs of his thighs.
Dabi cums in him again. Hawks feels it spill out around his cock before he’s even finished, feels it drip and drool from his fucked-sloppy hole. It burns like too-warm water down the blood-slick curve of his ass, against the fluttering pucker of his asshole. Hawks cums with him, too-soon, spasms and constricts and goes a little bit blind with it. Dabi coughs a sob into his mouth.
When he can see again, several long minutes later, Hawks uses a feather to slice through his bindings. The rope is cheap, brown, frayed; he rolls his wrists, pops his fingers, assesses the bruising and the damage. It’s minimal. It’s a reminder. His cunt throbs, just a little.
He discards his gloves over the side of the bed, locks his torn wrists back together, uncaring of the sting or the burn or the ache, wraps both arms around Dabi’s neck and shoulders. He tugs him close, lets Dabi collapse against him and hide his face in his throat and hold himself there until they both stop shaking.
It takes a while for Dabi to catch his breath. It usually does. Eventually, the harsh line of his spine goes limp. His shoulders smooth. His chest rises and falls, steadily.
Hawks blows a shuddering, too-cold breath over Dabi’s ear just to be annoying, watches goosebumps rise across the back of his neck. Dabi pinches his waist in retaliation, uses his nails, wrestles himself somehow closer despite it. His cock has gone soft enough to slip out on its own, but still Dabi doesn’t pull his face from Hawks’s throat. Hawks lets him stay. His heat is comfortable; he weighs almost nothing, all spite and spitfire. Hawks pets his hair, flutters kisses against the indents of his teeth left in the supple skin of his cheek and temple.
Dabi’s lashes flutter in the dip of his collarbone. He falls asleep like that, with Hawks’s bare fingers tracing nonsense shapes around the raised notches of his spine. Hawks shoves him awake twenty-minutes later when he can no longer stand the crust of blood in his teeth, and ushers both of them to the bathroom. Dabi eats him out again, bent over the shower tiles, and Hawks washes his hair in thanks.