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Adoring Dabi

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Tomura was waiting for Dabi when he made it back to his room. He had one of his game consoles in hand and looked up from it when the door opened. He tossed it aside when he saw Dabi had come home.


“You've been gone a while,” the boss commented dryly.


“Why the fuck are you in my room?” Dabi snapped. He didn't want to see anyone right now, Tomura least of all. He was sure Tomura could see the shame staining Dabi's skin.


“It's my base. I go where I want.”


Tomura approached him and gently touched his face. Dabi flinched. His soft hands felt like daggers puncturing his skin. His kindness made Dabi ache. His hands were larger, now. Along with the rest of his body. He was taller, broader, and Dabi was willing to bet his cock was bigger, too. They hadn't fucked since his surgery. Dabi shivered and hoped Tomura would assume it was because of the pain.


“Are you hurt?” Tomura asked.


“No.” An obvious lie, told by impulse. Dabi was aware enough of that to look away.


“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”


Tomura's touch became a slight pressure and Dabi's face was turned towards his leader's. “'Cause some assholes beat my face in.”


“Where have you been?”


“Not gonna ask who did it?” Dabi deflected.


Tomura took Dabi's hands and lifted them. He turned them palm up to reveal the black, crumbling remains of a burnt corpse on his fingertips. The piercings on his palms were slightly warped from heat. “I assume they're dead.”


“You assume right.” Dabi shrugged. “They're dead, I'm tired, so let me sleep.” He tried to pull his hands away. Tomura didn't let him. He brushed over Dabi's fingers and the ashes vanished, the gold metal glistened, leaving Dabi's hands clean. He reached for Dabi's face again. Reading his intention to heal him, Dabi caught his hand and begged,


“Please, don't.”


“Why?” Tomura actually whined a little. He'd matured, grown into the role of leader, and transformed into something closer to a God than a human, but he was still Tomura. He still played video games too long into the night and got pissy when things didn't go his way.


It didn't grate on Dabi's nerves like it used to. The familiarity was comforting. This impossible being, this King among men, this villain ascended higher than any before him...was also a man. Dabi could worship the God and he could love the man.


Dabi kissed Tomura's palm and whispered, “I need it to hurt.”


“You don't need pain, Dabi. I took it away because you deserve a life free of pain.” Tomura traced the line of Dabi's scars along his jaw. He flicked the piercings playfully as he went. “You can learn how to live without it.”


Tomura left the scars when he took away the pain they caused. He said they were pretty – he liked the way they adorned his body and the way his piercings shone in the sun. Dabi wept when his agony vanished. He'd screamed and wailed for hours, he shook violently in Tomura's arms, he rutted fully clothed against him and came until he passed out.


Then he woke up and felt lost. His body didn't feel like his own anymore. He didn't know who he was if he wasn't suffering.


His fire didn't hurt him anymore, either. Turned out All For One could do more than steal Quirks. It could modify them, too. Tomura warped Dabi's genes until the contradiction between his fire and his fragile body was eliminated. If Tomura so desired, he could destroy Quirks as well with a glancing touch.


Dabi let out a manic laugh – what took Overhaul months of work and an abused child took Tomura an afternoon and four bottles of Gatorade.


Tomura cut off his laughter with a kiss. He was being gentle – the opposite of what Dabi wanted. Why was Tomura doing this to him?


“You went out looking for someone to hurt you,” Tomura concluded. Dabi nodded.


His old man couldn't do it – he was nothing but ashes on the battlefield. Dabi needed someone else to bring back the old, familiar pain.


“Did they fuck you, too?”


Bile rose in the back of Dabi's throat. “No. They touched me and it made me sick. I couldn't stand someone other than you touching me.” Dabi laughed humorlessly. He wanted to be violated, degraded, hurt. But he didn't want to hurt Tomura. He couldn't bear to betray him. “You ruined me for anybody else.”


Tomura kissed him again. He was still being gentle, it was starting to frustrate Dabi. He tugged on Tomura's shirt to pull him closer, persuade him to press in deeper. Tomura refused. He pulled away from Dabi and whispered a hair's breath away from his lips.


“Good. You're mine. If you understand that, you know that I decide what this body feels.” Tomura's hand trailed from Dabi's face to his chest. He tugged Dabi's shirt down and flicked his pierced nipple. Dabi moaned – the slightest stimulation drove him near-mad. There was no pain mitigating what he felt anymore. Everything lit his body on fire.


He wanted Tomura to fuck him. He wanted to know what it felt like – how incredible it would be. And that terrified him. He didn't know how unmitigated pleasure would change him. He didn't think he could bear to feel that good.


“I don't know what I am if I'm not in pain, Tomura. I don't know how not to hurt.” Dabi was pleading for answer. He was shaking, pressing himself into Tomura's body, seeking friction. Tomura stilled him with a hand on his back.


“Let me show you. Let me pleasure you.”


Yes, no, I don't know. Tomura, I don't know...”


“Shh, love. Hush. You don't need to know. You only need to submit to me.”


Tomura stripped them both naked and laid Dabi on the bed. Dabi didn't have much time to admire Tomura's physique before he was wetting his thick fingers and pressing them inside of Dabi's ass. He pushed Dabi's legs up for better access, making him feel terribly vulnerable. It was frightening yet thrilling. He was laid bare and helpless to whatever Tomura wanted with him.


Tomura scissored Dabi carefully, slowly. He took his time with Dabi's body, caring for him, never letting an ounce of pain creep past the pleasure. He kissed Dabi's thighs as he fingered him. Laid little butterfly kisses on his skin, playing with him as he prepared him for more.


“You taste sweet, love,” Tomura said quietly. He nuzzled Dabi's inner thigh, then bit carefully. It drew a wail from Dabi. He was so sensitive that was all it took. His skin was a conductor and Tomura was a lightning strike. The feeling was new, exciting, and Dabi's nerves were raw and open.


Once satisfied that Dabi was ready for it, Tomura kissed his way up Dabi's body. Still ever-so-slow, he kissed Dabi's scars and tugged on his piercings with his teeth. Never hard enough to hurt, only enough to be felt. To awaken all of Dabi's body to better receive the pleasure yet to come. Dabi didn't recognize the sounds Tomura was drawing from him. The quiet sighs and breathy moans didn't sound like himself. The pleasure didn't feel like it belonged in his body. Something this good was surely meant for someone else. It was just too good.


Tomura pushed his cock into Dabi's ass, still so fucking slow, and it was a delightful agony. No, that wasn't the word. It wasn't painful, but the most intense things Dabi had ever known was pain and this was intense. He didn't have the right words. And he didn't want to search for them. He just wanted to feel this. Tomura was in no hurry, he pressed deeper little by little, only going further when Dabi's little gasps for breath changed to needful moaning.


“You're so fucking big,” Dabi gasped, not entirely intentionally.


Tomura pressed all the way inside and Dabi felt so full he was forgetting how to breath. Tomura kissed him again. He tasted good, like something dark and spicy. Dabi licked his lips and focused on that to keep a grip on his sanity.


He wasn't permitted to do so. Tomura pulled out slightly, then pushed back in. He fucked Dabi sweetly, gently. He laid light kisses on Dabi's neck and cooed sweet nothings in his ear.


“You feel good, love. I'll never get enough you. You're so good for me, so perfect for me.” Those big hands and thick fingers fondled Dabi's cock and played with his tip. Dabi wanted to rut into that hand, seek something more frenetic. But he couldn't. Tomura rendered him thoroughly helpless. All he could was quiver with need. It was amazing. It was terrifying.


He couldn't control his body, but he still had his words. Tomura hadn't fucked him silent.


“Please, Tomura. Fuck me harder! Make it hurt, please!” Dabi was lost, confused, frightened. Pain made sense to him, pain was familiar. If Tomura slapped him, fucked him bloody, dug his nails into his skin and dug into his scars, it would make sense. That's what Dabi was for. He would cry and scream and beg for it to stop and it wouldn't because it never stopped. He would suffer and bleed and choke because that's who he was. Wasn't he? Wasn't he?


“No,” Tomura answered bluntly.


“Hurt me, scratch my eyes out, make me bleed!”


“No, Dabi.”


“Choke me, tear my skin off, tell me I'm filthy!”


“No, Dabi.” Tomura kissed him, light as a feather. A quick brush of their lips. Gentle. So gentle. “I'm going to love you.”


Tomura pulled him up and pressed their bodies together, chest to chest. He kept fucking him – fucking wasn't the right word for this gentleness but Dabi didn't know what to call it – with Dabi in his lap. There wasn't a part of him that didn't feel Tomura's warmth. Tomura's hands were on his hip, guiding him into the same steady, slow rhythm.


“I'm your King. I decide who you are. I say you are loved.” Tomura kissed him. “You are adored.” Tomura kissed him again, still so terribly soft. “You are mine.”


He fell back into the sheets, leaving Dabi straddling him. Dabi pressed his hands to Tomura's chest to balance himself.


“Fuck yourself on my cock. Take the pleasure you deserve.”


“I...I...” Dabi's hand was touching the scar across Tomura's arm and chest. Where he'd torn open and gushed a fountain of blood. Tomura survived that. Not only survived, but triumphed on the field of war. He was powerful, more powerful than anyone. He could hold Dabi in his arms while his hands crushed his enemies.


The same hands that toppled a nation now touched him with soft, sweet love. Tomura's power was undeniable. He chose to temper that power to touch Dabi, to bring him pleasure. Tomura's authority was unquestionable. He said Dabi was loved, adored, and his and Dabi couldn't deny him. Tomura was strong and Dabi was weak.


He sobbed. Tears – the tears that were stolen from him and Tomura gave back to him – poured from his eyes. He moved his hips to the same gentle rhythm Tomura wanted for him. He gave in. He submitted. To Tomura's dominance, his power, and his love.


“I'm yours,” he confessed.


“You are.”


Dabi tilted his head back. He moaned madly, deliriously. He let the orgasmic pleasure wash over him. Fill him. Push out anything of him that wasn't what Tomura wanted him to be.


“I'm adored!”


“You are.”


Dabi screamed. The unmitigated pleasure was too much and not enough. He needed a break, needed to breath, and he needed for this to never end. He wanted to make love to Tomura endlessly. He wasn't meant to be in pain. He was meant to be Tomura's.


“I'm loved!”


“You are, Dabi. You are.”


Dabi's sanity slipped away. He let it go. His own mind had betrayed him, convinced him he didn't want what Tomura offered. He'd been broken by abusive, harmful hands and Tomura's put him back together. He just needed to lay himself in Tomura's hands.


He came with a cry of Tomura's name. He embraced the pleasure, would remember this feeling and hold onto it until the next time Tomura made love to him. He'd never live another moment without pleasure itself or at least the memory of it. His life of pain was over - his life as Tomura's faithful servant and loving plaything was beginning. Tomura came inside him soon after, staining him, filling him. He felt warm, full, and satisfied. And would never be anything else.


Tomura helped him fall to the side into the sheets. His vision was blurred by the power of his orgasm, though he was close enough to Tomura to see him wipe up Dabi's cum. He smiled. He liked getting his mark on Tomura. He hoped his hold on Tomura was as deep as Tomura's was on him.


Tomura touched his cheek. The ache from the bruises on his face, which he'd long forgotten about, faded. Tomura kissed him again, then again, and again.


“My love,” he said fondly.


“My King,” Dabi whispered like a secret, sacred oath. “My King.”