Actions

Work Header

take another drag (turn me to ashes)

Work Text:

It starts with the single most poorly conceived villain plot Enji has ever encountered. Some guy who calls himself the Incel Villain - which Enji gathers is an internet slang term for sexually frustrated men who channel their insecurities in entirely inappropriate ways - has created a giant robot which is currently terrorising the residents of Nagoya.

It can - and this is true - only be stopped by a virgin. According to the villain's manifesto, it has something to do with highlighting “the depravity of the sex-positive culture they live in”. 

"Well, that excludes all of us," Enji mutters, tossing aside the briefing document in disgust. He’s familiar enough with the sexual histories of his fellow pro heroes - and has been involved in more of them than he'd like to admit - to know that much. He can feel a migraine building and resists the urge to massage his forehead.

There are nods and rueful chuckles around the room.

Miruko clears her throat. "Actually," she begins.

Ryukyu snorts delicately. "You? Like we didn't - " she give her a meaningful look, "just last night."

Miruko flashes her a sleazy grin. "Course not, though that was great, repeat performance soon? Nah, I'm talking about this guy."

She cocks a thumb. All eyes swivel to follow it, landing on… the number two hero.

Who looks like he's about to fall asleep and has definitely not realised the turn the conversation has made. The bags under his eyes are getting too deep, Enji notes with some displeasure. It's not a good look on a pro hero.

Hawks finally looks up when he notices the expectant silence. Even though he clearly has no idea what’s going on, he flashes a million-watt grin.

Gang Orca looks back at Miruko. "No."

"Yes."

"You? A virgin?" Ryukyu asks.

"Miruko," Hawks says, sounding a mix between exasperated and betrayed.

"Hey, if your unpopped cherry can save the nation, I'm all for it."

"You've really never…?" Kamui Woods ventures, sounding confused at the mere possibility.

"I'd be happy to help you rectify that," Edgeshot says in his usual dispassionate tone, although his eyes, trained on Hawks, can only be described as hungry. "After this mission, of course."

Enji feels a second headache building on top of the one he already has.

"Enough," he snaps. "We're wasting time on this useless chit chat. If a team member has something that can give us a leg up, no matter what it is, they're not to be questioned. Gang Orca and Kamui Woods, I want you on the ground - see if you can immobilise the thing's feet, or at least slow it down. Wash and Yoroi are on crowd control. Ryukyu will be providing air support..."

He loses himself to the familiar rhythm of strategy and the build up to a good fight. He would have forgotten the infernal virginity issue entirely, if not for -

 

 

"Thanks for before, big guy," Hawks says when they're cleaning up the mess. He's a mess, blood matted in his hair and caking the side of his face. Even with the 'advantage' of being a virgin, that robot had not gone down easily.

Enji pauses. “For what?”

“Pressing mute on the peanut gallery.”

"It was nothing," Enji says gruffly. "They shouldn't have questioned your personal choice - which helped more than any of them did today."

Hawks hums agreeably. They fall back into a companionable silence.

"Not a personal choice, by the way."

What?

"What?"

Enji turns to look at Hawks again and finds he's looking back with a mild, inscrutable expression.

"I'm not abstinent or asexual or anything. I've just -" He shrugs expressively.

What? He's just what? It's on the tip of Enji's tongue to ask, before he realises how ridiculous that would be. This has absolutely no relevance to him.  

He grunts, hoping that will end the conversation. And maybe sets his boulder down with a hint too much force, judging by the way it cracks the pavement below.

Goddamnit.

"Wow, what did that rock do to you, big guy?" Hawks sings behind him.

Enji grits his teeth and resolves to put the whole thing out of his mind.

 

 

He's the number one hero, for Christ's sake. He has cities to save, a nation to reassure, a legacy to live up to. He cannot be wasting his time thinking about the sexual habits of a colleague, much less one half his age, hardly more than a child.

Nonetheless, he finds himself turning the revelation over and over in his mind like a particularly difficult Rubik's cube.

The thing is, it's so incongruous with the Hawks he knows, who is objectively attractive and infuriatingly aware of it, witty and charming and flirts as easy as breathing.

Enji has never had reason to dwell on his sexual history, but if he had to hazard a guess he'd assume it's not dissimilar to that of other pro heroes married to their work, including himself.

Enji himself has had a, well, colourful youth, which included a lot of casual sex and on one memorable occasion, an amateur sex tape filmed in a grimy club toilet. Of course, all evidence of his exploits were quickly and thoroughly scrubbed out of existence when he became a pro hero.

He’d assumed Hawks has experienced something similar - the awkward fumblings of horny teenagers morphing over the years into a parade of no-strings-attached hook ups in hotel rooms or bathroom stalls. After all, the pro hero world is full of attractive people willing to hop in the sack at a moment’s notice and relieve some of pressure that comes with the job. Barring that for whatever reason, Hawks has legions of fans who Enji is certain would be happy to go a round or two with their idol. If he’s being honest, he reckons Hawks could have anyone he wants.

If it’s not a matter of choice or preference, it doesn't make any sense.  

Enji wonders if it has something to do with Hawks' past. He knows Hawks grew up under the auspices of the Hero Public Safety Commission. He's not sure what that entailed, apart from apparently nurturing a willingness to being sent on frankly suicidal undercover missions.

(If this was a couple years ago, he’d commend that type of dedication to the cause. Now, well.)

Enji understands on some level that Hawks' charming rakish act is just that - an act. Before, he'd never felt the need to go poking at what lies underneath. But now, this unintended glimpse of a chink in the armour has left him reluctantly intrigued. He wonders: what else is Hawks hiding under that impeccable facade?

 

 

"Tell me about the Commission.” It slips out of his mouth without his permission one day when they're on patrol.  

Hawks looks at him oddly. “What about them?”

“They raised you.”

“Yeeeeees?”  

Enji fights the urge to rub at his temples. He’s not used to this prying business, has never cared enough about other people’s lives to cultivate the skill of getting information out of them. He’s not in the habit of regretting things, but he can admit it would come in handy just about now.

“Tell me about it,” he repeats.

Hawks hums. “Eh, it was pretty uneventful.”

Endeavor will bet his whole career on that being a bald-faced lie.

“But my handler was really cool. She could communicate with bugs, right, and that’s not a flashy or glamorous quirk, but the things she could do.” He shudders dramatically. “This one time, someone accidentally took her lunch out of the fridge by mistake, and she made –“

“What was it like you?” Enji cuts him off.  

Hawks tilts his head. “Not that I’m not flattered, number one, but why the sudden interest in my childhood?”

Think fast, Enji.

"I'm…practising making conversation. For dinner with my children." His children, who are the same age as Hawks. Christ.

Hawks narrows his eyes. "By asking about…my upbringing?"

Enji, Japan's number one hero, master of strategy and coming up with plans on the spot, points behind them. "Look, a robbery."

Hawks follows his gaze. A kid is walking out of a store with a bottle of soft drink poking out of his pocket.

Hawks looks back at him, incredulous.

Enji meets his gaze blandly. "Go on, number two. The city needs you."

Hawks grumbles and mutters under his breath but does what he’s told. He always does.

 

 

Something in his and Hawks’ dynamic changes.

Enji catches his own eyes falling on Hawks more, idly tracing over the fine bones of his face or the shape of his wings. A lot of the time, he finds Hawks looking back. He doesn’t know if that’s a new development or one he’s just never noticed before.

Hawks is naturally touchy – Enji has seen the easy intimacy he shares with Miruko, the way they can’t go out in public without the tabloids spreading rumours they’re dating. He’s not as touchy with Enji, but has no issue nudging his shoulder or playfully punching his arm or taking him by the wrist to drag him somewhere. Usually, Enji just shakes him off.

But now, that develops into something more. Hawks will casually let his feathers brush against Enji’s side when they’re on patrol, the feeling strange and ticklish. He’ll hook his chin over Enji’s shoulder to read a report instead of just reaching for his own copy like a normal, respectable hero. When they’re at lunch, he’ll ‘accidentally’ knock his foot into Enji’s under the table and not move it away. All the while, looking.

And Enji – absurdly, there’s a part of Enji that feels like the key to unlocking this puzzle is written into Hawks' skin, and if Enji presses hard enough he’ll be able to decipher it even through the layers of clothing. So he doesn’t shake Hawks off, stops moving away, presses back.

 

 

His next opportunity comes after they save a young man from the clutches of a low level slime villain and watch as he goes running back to his girlfriend.

Enji clears his throat. “Have you had –” He gestures vaguely towards the couple.

Hawks’ eyebrow climbs into his hairline. “Have I had?”

“Significant others,” Enji grits out.

Hawks opens his eyes mock wide. "What? The number one hero, asking about my personal life? Is the world ending? Are you dying? Here, let me -” he leans up and presses a cool hand against Enji's forehead. "Oh no, you're burning up, number one!" He furrows his brow, but can only keep up the expression for a second before he cracks up at his own joke.

"Don't be ridiculous," Enji mutters, embarrassment bringing his body temperature even further up.

Hawks must feel the change against his hand, still lingering on Enji's face. He gives Enji a thoughtful look before rocking back on his heels.  

"Sure you're okay, old man? I hear brain problems get a lot more common as you get older -"

"I'm 47, you brat!"

Even as he’s being lulled back into the flow and ebb of their normal back and forth, Enji notices the skilful way Hawks dodges the question. He realises he's not going to get an answer unless he really presses. But that would be revealing his cards too soon.

 

 

Enji doesn’t let it affect his work. He is a consummate professional and can compartmentalise with the best of them. Sometimes a thought will flash through his mind apropos of nothing, but every time Enji takes it, folds it up and locks it in the reinforced box in the furthest recesses of his mind.

Hawks lean in, the scent of cold fresh air and spicy musk hitting Enji’s nose, and Enji wonders whether he has been so close to someone that their scent overwhelmed him as they pant against each other, close enough to track every dilation of their pupils and change in their expression.

Hawks takes off a glove, and at the glimpse of his fine-boned hand Enji wonders if he has stroked someone off with those fingers, felt the flesh stiffening under his ministrations, thumbed over the slit and heard his partner sigh and realised how much power he held over the other person in that moment.

Hawks licks coffee foam off his lips and Enji wonders whether he has sucked cock, whether he likes it, whether he can take it all without choking or whether he’ll gag and tears will well up in his eyes but he’ll keep going anyway.

Unbidden, an image rises in his mind of feeding Hawks his own cock, forcing Hawks past his gag reflex as his throat convulses and his hands spasm on Enji’s thighs, until finally he overcomes it and Enji sinks in, in, in.  

Enji nearly misses a step.

Well, that’s new.

 

 

Enji's third opportunity comes when a young blushing girl gives Hawks some chocolates. He coos and awes over them and signs her t-shirt and when they’re alone again, takes out the piece of paper scrawled with her phone number and tosses it in the bin.

“She was, uh, not unattractive,” Enji ventures. He feels very out of his depth. Is this how straight men talk about women?

Hawks turns and stares at him, seemingly delighted. “Number one! Got a bit of a crush there? Do you want her number? I can fish it back out for you!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Enji snaps, now certain Hawks is playing deliberately obtuse. “You know I’m gay.”

He doesn’t know if Hawks actually does. It doesn’t matter. He waits expectantly, the unspoken question hanging in the air. This is where Hawks is supposed to reply, to confirm or deny Enji’s suspicions. An admission for an admission.

Instead, Hawks just lets his eyes go hooded, pitches his voice into a sultry drawl. “Endeavor, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were propositioning me.” He runs the back of his hand down the front of Enji’s chest. “Of course, I’d accept.”

Enji brushes his hand away with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The sound of Hawks’ laughter floats behind him.

 

 

Enji realises this: Hawks is a magician, distracting with a clever tongue in the place of smoke and mirrors, mixing truths and lies in the same breath until you can’t tell one from the other. Enji wants to pin him down – metaphorically, but he won't mind physically either, if he’s being entirely honest with himself - until he has nowhere to hide and lay him bare.

 

 

In the end, it’s Hawks who brings it out into the open. They’re at dinner in a private room at one of those yakitori joints Hawks loves so much, what could be considered a celebration after successfully busting a high-level villain drug smuggling ring earlier that day. Hawks alternates between theorising improbable uses for the drugs they confiscated and ranking Enji’s top ten coolest moments during the fight. Enji occasionally interjects with a scoff or a correction. It’s comfortable and familiar.

Then there’s a lull in the conversation. The hairs on the back of Enji’s neck raise in belated warning. He looks up and Hawks is suddenly a lot closer than he’d been a minute ago.

“So, wanna tell me why you’ve been acting weird recently, number one?”

This close, Enji can see the golden flecks in Hawks’ amber eyes. A hundred reasonable excuses tumble through his mind. But it's been a long day and residual adrenaline still lingers in his system and to be honest, Enji has had enough of this infernal wondering.

It's the easiest thing in the world to pull Hawks in and kiss him.

Hawks’ fingers flutter against his chest in momentary shock, before he relaxes, shifts and deepens the kiss. Enji feels Hawks’ arm come up to loop around his neck, the movement plastering his entire front up against Enji’s.

Enji licks the taste of yakitori and sake out of Hawks’ mouth and feels pleasure lazily course through his veins. Hawks' tongue is hot and slick when he swipes it against Enji's bottom teeth and he definitely knows what he's doing. 

Eventually, Enji pulls away. As pleasant as it is, he has no intention of getting caught necking with his much younger colleague in public. His hand stays on Hawks’ neck, pressing in until he can feel the jackrabbit hammer of Hawks' heart.

Hawks’ face is flushed and his eyes wide, but when he meets Enji’s eyes his gaze is steady.  

“That’s definitely better than what I was expecting,” he says lightly. “I actually thought you were dying, you know, or had some kind of ill–”

Enji cuts him off. “Come with me if you want. Either way, this doesn’t affect us professionally.”

Hawks is already nodding before Enji has even finished his sentence.

 

 

Enji has barely gotten his front door closed before Hawks is pressing him up against it and kissing him again, slow and deep. He sucks on Enji's tongue, a gorgeous warm pressure, and and Enji burns at the thought of what else that mouth could do. Hawks' hands run up and down Enji's chest and he breaks the kiss to murmur, "Holy shit, I can't believe you're actually this insanely ripped, it’s insane.”

Enji turns them around and shoves Hawks against the door instead, rattling it in its frame. Hawks’ breath whooshes out of him but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to talk as Enji pushes up his top.

“I used to dream about this, you know, you were totally my childhood fantasy –“

Enji heats up the pads of his fingers and thumbs Hawks’ nipples, mouthwateringly pink and pert, experimentally,

Hawks shudders out a sigh, his eyes falling shut. “Oh, that feels really good. Your hands are so warm, oh my god.”

“Has anyone touched you like this?” Enji growls.

Hawks’ eyes slit open again. “Does that get you hot, number one? Thinking you’re the first?”

For that, Enji twists one of Hawks’ nipples, hard. Hawks’ body arches. His wings thump against the wall, forcing his hard cock into a grind against Enji's leg. Enji's own cock, already more than half filled just from the sounds Hawks is making, twitches in response.

“Ah! Okay okay, yes. Sorry to disappoint.”

Hawks' hands are everywhere - slipping under his shirt to grab at his pecs, clutching at his sides, skating down his back. Enji shoves Hawks’ jeans and underwear down together and grasps his cock, swirling his thumb around the precome already welling from the tip and running a propriety hand up and down the length. It’s dry, must be on the wrong side of chafing, but Hawks just thumps his head against the door and makes a sound like he’s dying.

“What about this?"

Even now, Hawks has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Endeavor - Enji, I’m a virgin, not totally inexperienced,” he says, managing to sound flippant even through the pleasure making his voice hazy. "Your hand though – god –”

His hand slips down to the button on Enji’s pants. Enji slaps it away irritably. “No.”

Hawks pouts but obligingly slides his hands back up to Enji’s waist, kneeding at the hard muscle there. “Becomes the top hero and expects everyone to follow your orders all the time, I see how it is.”

Enji ignores his chattering and cups his ass – it’s really a fantastic ass, tight and round and pert - and squeezes with both hands, pressing his cheeks together before pulling them apart again. He against Hawks' hole and feels it twitch under his finger like it wants to suck it in.

“Here. Has anyone touched you here?”

Hawks gasps at the sensation, hips shifting like he doesn't know whether to press forward to get pressure on his cock or back into Enji's hand. “Seriously, number one, you got some kind of virginity kink?"

"Hiring a hooker would be a lot less work if I did," Enji mutters without thinking.

Hawks barks out a startled laugh and surges up to meet Enji’s mouth again, wet and messy, nipping at Enji's bottom lip and chuckling into his mouth when it makes Enji's hand tighten on his ass. Enji entertains it for a moment before he grabs Hawks’ hands and presses them against the door. He leverages his own body away so that Hawks is left thrusting his hips into thin air.

He takes in the view. Hawks looks debauched, flushed and panting against the wall with his shirt rucked up, pants shoved down to his thighs and cock jutting up rosy and hard from a nest of wiry curls.

“I expect an answer when I ask a question,” Enji growls.

“Number one, no fair,” Hawks whines, twisting to try and get some friction, any friction.

Enji doesn’t budge.

Eventually, Hawks relents. His gaze darts to the side. “No.”

Something in Enji’s blood sings at the admission.

“Bedroom, now,” he snaps.

 

 

If there was any doubt about Hawks’ lack of experience, this confirms it. Hawks is tight as Enji works one slick finger into him, on all fours, ass up in the air, clenching around Enji's finger rhythmically like he doesn't want to let it go. All of his clothes, along with Enji's shirt, are scattered on the bedroom floor.

“Your fingers are so much bigger than mine,” he slurs. He squirms and rocks back, Enji's finger sinking in to the last knuckle. “Feels so good, stretching me open for your cock.”

“No one’s done this to you before.” Enji wants to hear him say it again.

“No one. You’re – ah – number one. Heh.”

“You’ve been saving yourself for me,” Enji growls. He can barely recognise his own voice.

“No,” Hawks protests hazily. “I really had no time when I was training, and then when I went pro –” He stops when he glances back and sees Enji’s face. His expression shifts, and without a hitch he continues, “Okay, yeah, I have. Figured it was pointless sleeping around because no one else would be able to compare to the real thing. I’d just spend the whole time thinking of you instead, how good your cock would feel filling me up, burning me up from the inside.”  

Enji has no idea if Hawks is telling the truth or if he’s just saying this shit to rile him up but either way, it’s working. Every word is going straight to his cock and he can feel his body temperature spiking, sweat beading on his forehead.

He works another finger into Hawks’ tight heat. Hawks makes a purring noise and pushes back like he’s chasing the warmth.

“You know, I – ah, fuck – I fingered myself for the first time to your sex tape, the one of you fucking that guy in the bathroom stall – o-oh keep doing that. I'd just turned sixteen. It hurt at first, I wasn't sure if my fingers would fit."

Enji swallows hard at the mental image a younger, skinnier Hawks, wings flapping futilely as he reaches down underneath himself, shuddering as he tries to overcome his own body's resistance. He’s entirely unsurprised Hawks got his hands on a copy of that tape.

He thrusts his other fingers in again, harder, dragging them along Hawks' inner walls and catching them on his swollen rim as Hawks pants.

"When I worked out how to make it feel good, I'd imagine it was your fingers fucking me open. C- ah - could never quite imagine it was your cock – I saw how hung you were, knew my fingers could never split me apart the way it could. I’d come to you calling that guy cockslut, whore - mmm - degenerate, imagining you were talking to me."

Enji feels set ablaze, like he’s going to burn himself up. His cock is rock hard and chafing where it’s trapped uncomfortably tight in his pants.

“Hold on.” He withdraws his fingers carefully, to Hawks’ whine of discontent, so that he can unzip and shuck his pants and underwear off.

Hawks twists around and watches with unabashed interest. When Enji settles back down on the bed, Hawks wraps a hand around Enji’s cock. He circles it with his fingers, rubbing a thumb over the tip that comes away gleaming with precome. His fingers barely reach all the way around and the sight is obscene.

Hawks looks up at Enji through his lashes and pitches his voice soft and high. “It’s so big, I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Lust hits Enji like a punch to the chest. He feels his temperature rocket up ten degrees and flames flare on his face.

Hawks laughs delightedly at his expression. “You dirty old man! Want me to call you daddy too?”

It’s on the tip of Enji’s tongue to tell Hawks to shut up and stop being ridiculous, but what comes out instead is a growled, “Watch your tone, boy.

Enji feels the full body shudder that runs through Hawks at that.

Oh, okay,” Hawks says dazedly. “Definitely remembering that for next time.”

Next time. Enji opens his mouth to say – he doesn’t know what – but Hawks grips tight and strokes and any and all words die on his lips.  

With Hawks bent so prettily over his cock, Enji considers prying Hawks’ plush mouth open with his thumb and shoving his cock in inch by inch, gradually cutting off his air supply until he finally shuts up, like in the images that have been plaguing him recently. But as tempting as it is, what he wants to do more than anything is to wipe that smug grin off Hawks’ face and make him fall apart.

There’s always next time. Enji doesn’t bother trying to squash the thought.  

He knocks Hawks’ hand away. “Get back on all fours."

With a smirk and one more pass of his thumb over the head of Enji’s cock that threatens to melt Enji’s spine, Hawks does as he’s told. Enji pours more lube over his fingers and sinks three straight back into Hawks’ ass.

Hawks makes gorgeous noises as Enji stretches him, moans and pleas and high breathy sighs, but something about the way he arches his back and how he darts little glances back at Enji makes Enji think this is still as much an act as anything else Hawks does.

It’s not enough. Enji wants to ruin this boy.

The idea comes to him as he watches Hawks' greedy hole clench around his fingers. He uses his free hand to spread Hawks' cheeks and breathes hot over his hole, coaxing out of him a long drawn out shiver.

Then Enji leans down and tongues the spot where his fingers disappear into Hawk’s body.

Hawks’ whole body seizes up. “Enji! What are you - you can’t-!” The shock in his voice is all real, and Enji experiences a vicious stab of satisfaction.

Enji doesn’t deign him with a response.

Hawks falls apart beautifully under his tongue. Enji keeps lapping between his fingers as they thrust in and out, tonguing at Hawks' twitching rim until Hawks is begging for more, a jumble of pleas and curses and bitten-off moans of Enji’s name falling from his lips.

The sounds go straight to Enji’s cock, now hard as steel and begging for relief. He barely resists the urge to rut into the mattress.

He wriggles his tongue in alongside his fingers and Hawks sobs, pushing back like he can't get enough.

When he sees Hawks' hand reach for his cock, Enji pinches the skin on the curve of Hawks’ ass with his free hand. "Don’t touch yourself."

His words are nearly drowned out by the high shuddering moan Hawks lets out.

Interesting.

Enji does it again, alternating presses of his tongue and hard pinches of his fingers until he has a neat row of bruises blooming down Hawks' milky inner thigh and Hawks' hole is messy and gleaming with spit. With each alternating sensation, Hawks keens and shudders, his body a long tense line pushing back into Enji but his wings thrashing wildly. Something falls off the bedside table and shatters.

Enji pulls back to examine his handiwork. He hopes the bruises will chafe under Hawks' clothes tomorrow.

"You like that," he mutters. His tongue feels too big for his mouth.  

Hawks exhales something that might be a laugh. “I-I'd like anything you do," he says, voice wrecked and sounding half out of his mind. “Want everything. C’mon, please.”

Jesus Christ.

When Enji finally pushes in, Hawks shakes like he’s coming apart.

“Ah - so big – I can't - i-it’s not gonna fit –”

He’s tighter than Enji could have ever imagined, hot and silky and perfect around his cock.

“You can take it,” Enji grits, struggling to get the words out through the pleasure that threatens to make his eyes roll back into his head.

Hawks nods frantically.

Enji has got Hawks in his lap now, one hand pressing into Hawks’ stomach to keep his back flushed with Enji’s front, the other digging into Hawks’ thigh. Through the combination of gravity and Enji’s short rocking thrusts, Enji feeds Hawks his cock inch by inch, ignoring every urge in himself to just pound into that tight heat. Hawks squirms like his body doesn’t know whether to get away or get closer. Soft ah, ah, ahs fall from his open mouth in time with Enji’s thrusts.

“So tight,” Enji growls. “Only cock you’ve ever taken.”  

He – he feels like he’s claiming Hawks, branding this overwhelming pleasure onto his body, an indelible mark that no one will ever be able to scrub off. The thought makes his cock twitch and swell inside Hawks.

“Say it.”

“O-only yours,” Hawks pants out.

Enji breathes out harshly when he bottoms out. Without giving Hawks time to adjust, he pulls out and shoves back in in one smooth motion.  

Hawks shouts like the sound is being punched out of him.

Enji grabs Hawks by the waist with both hands and sets up a rhythm – not fast, but steady and relentless, bouncing Hawks up and down on his cock. Hawks is shockingly light and malleable in his arms. His thighs shake when he tries to help lift himself up and down.

It’s so good it makes Enji go cross-eyed.

Hawks' purpling cock drools precome all over himself as he writhes and moans and babbles incoherently.

“Holy shit, s-so deep, can feel you splitting me ap – fuck don’t stop - ”

Enji’s hands feel like they're burning where they’re circling Hawks’ waist. He has half a second of worry because he feels like he's losing control of every motor function not directly involved in fucking into Hawks as deeply as he can and has no idea what his body temperature is like right now when everything just feels impossibly hot, but Hawks just moans and arches into it.

Enji shifts and drives in again, and his cock brushes against something that makes Hawks wail.

Got you. Hawks tightens around him like a vice, his wings thrashing and nearly hitting Enji in the face. Enji groans, brings Hawks down and shoves up hard and grinds against Hawks’ prostate, relentless stabs that have him sobbing into the side of Enji's neck.

Ah! Right there, I can’t – don’t stop Enji I’m so close fuck fuck fuck!“

Enji feels Hawks tense up all around him. He grabs Hawks’ cock and pumps it twice and Hawks yells “Enji!", bites down hard on Enji's shoulder, convulses and starts to come all over Enji’s hand.

The pressure around his cock is indescribable. Enji nearly bites through his tongue to stop from coming on the spot. The feeling of Hawks’ teeth against his skin, hard enough to drawl blood, is a sweet counterpoint to the hot undulating pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him.

Enji fucks him through it in short grinding thrusts, every thrust jolting Hawks against Enji’s chest, and keeps stroking Hawks’ cock until he’s spent, a shuddering sensitive mess in Enji's arms.

He wipes his hand on the bedsheets and moves to lift Hawks off his cock, but Hawks’ hand shoots out and grabs his arm. When he lifts his head to look at Enji, his eyes are hazy and there are tear tracks running down his cheeks.

“Don’t stop - come in me, please.”

How could Enji refuse?

In one swift motion, Enji tips Hawks onto the sheets and follows him down. Hawks’ arms come up to catch him but collapse under his weight, leaving him ass up and face down panting into the pillows. Just where Enji wants him.

He grabs Hawks' hips and slides home again. Hawks yells and bucks, trying to twist away from the sensations that must be overwhelming now but Enji holds him in place, slams into him fast and brutal. There's no holding back now, he's just selfishly chasing the orgasm he can feel building in his stomach.

Hawks sounds like he’s hardly coherent any more, reduced to chanting a litany of Enji’s name. He squeezes tight around Enji like he doesn't want to let Enji's cock go and Enji can’t stop the noises he’s making either, grunts and bitten off groans.

“How are you still - fuck-  this tight,” he snarls.

Hawks strangles out something between a laugh and a moan. He twists his head back to look at Enji and even through his drugged-out haze of pleasure, manages to whisper:  

“C’mon Enji, need you – wanna feel it - wanna be stuffed full, need to feel you dripping out of me.”

Enji’s orgasm comes out of nowhere and slams into him like a freight train. He comes so hard his vision whites out, balls drawn tight, hips pistoning, Hawks’ breathless moans in his ears and pleasure turning his body inside out.

Eventually, the world swims back into focus. Enji digs deep in himself and finds the strength to pull out of Hawks and collapse on the bed next to him. For a blissful moment, it's silent except for the rush of blood in his head and the sound of their harsh breathing.

As always, Hawks is the first to break it.

“Holy shit,” he croaks. “Think you’ve just ruined me for sex with anyone else.”

The dark, possessive thing in Enji’s chest purrs in approval. No matter what happens between them after this, Enji has left an indelible mark on Hawks, taken something of Hawks' for his own. That's something no one that comes after can ever touch. A defining moment in Hawks’ life his and his alone.

Enji takes stock of Hawks – his red bitten lips, tear tracks down his face, red hand-shaped burn welts on his waist and hips, bruises on his thighs. He tries to find it in himself to feel guilty but just comes up with satisfaction.

"You know, it really was just circumstance," Hawks rasps.

Enji looks back up to Hawks' face. Even still basking in the afterglow, that thoughtful light has returned to his eyes.

"Training to be the youngest pro hero ever doesn't leave a whole lot of downtime. And once I got famous, well, image is everything, right? I didn't want to run the risk."

It's a simple, straightforward explanation. Hawks sounds like he's parroting someone else's words, but that's not something Enji has the energy to examine right now.

He grunts in acknowledgement.

Hawks shifts in the sheets and groans. “God, I can really feel your come dripping out of me.”

Enji’s dick gives a valiant twitch.

“So, did you get it out of your system?”

Enji’s first instinct is to brush the question off. But he suppresses it and takes a moment to actually think.

Is his strange newly-acquired obsession with Hawks over?

He imagines the bruises on Hawks’ thighs fading and feels the urge to replace them well up in him. He wants Hawks to carry his marks on his skin.

No, more than that.

He wants Hawks to stop deflecting his questions and actually trust Enji with his answers. He wants to break him down and find out what makes him tick. He wants to know what other secrets he hides behind his candy-coated veneer. He wants to map the most sensitive spots on his body, find out what other names he can call him that will elicit that whole body shudder, see him in the mornings before he puts on his public face, learn the secret fantasies he’s too ashamed to tell anyone else. He wants so much.

“No,” he says.

Hawks’ eyebrow raises.

“Stay the night,” Enji says. He doesn’t phrase it as a question, although it is.

Hawks studies his face for a long moment. Enji doesn’t know what he sees, but eventually his face lights up, in small increments until all at once it’s blinding.

“Okay.”