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It was just a mission. That was what Hawks had told himself the first time, when he’d laid in his bed alone as a veritable stranger crept out his front door. It was only a mission, and he was only playing a part.
That’s what he told himself the second time too, and the third. He was only doing his job. He was only doing what was necessary.
Becoming intimate with the enemy hadn’t been part of the mission briefing.
Nevertheless, when the villain showed up on his doorstep, hood pulled low over a disfigured face, Hawks stepped back to let him inside without a flicker of hesitation.
They had planned to meet in two days to talk about the next step in their tentative alliance.
This unannounced meeting wasn’t about the job.
“Oh. It’s you.” Hawks nudged the door shut and leaned against the wall, arms folded, as Dabi crouched to unlace his boots. “I could’ve sworn you wanted to meet Friday night at the warehouse district. Must have been a miscommunication, just like the way you threw your pet noumu into the middle of the city last week without giving me a fucking warning.”
“Haven’t you whined about that enough already?” said Dabi. He wrenched off one boot, then the other, and tossed them both aside. They tumbled onto a pair of Hawks’ shoes that had been arranged neatly by the door. Dabi rose and pushed back his hood, his heavy stare unimpressed. “It’s over and nobody died. That’s all that matters to you, right, Hero?” The title was pronounced with a sneer, the warped skin of Dabi’s jaw pulling tight.
He was horrifying. Just the sight of him made Hawks want to run away screaming.
Yet when Dabi stepped closer, eyeing Hawks with that imperious stare, he stood his ground.
“I told you already,” said Hawks, rolling his eyes. “I have to keep up appearances. If I let your monster snatch up any innocent bystanders the public wouldn’t be too happy with me.”
Dabi shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever you say, Hero.” He lingered there, and his very presence was toxic.
Hawks didn’t move away. He basked in the poison and again told himself this was only for the mission. With every mental recitation the excuse became a little more feeble.
When Dabi turned away, the air was suddenly easier to breathe. Hawks stayed where he was, arms folded across his chest, as Dabi strolled through the condo as if he was an invited guest.
Hawks should have told him to get out. He was only obligated to deal with the villains in small doses, just enough to convince them that he was trustworthy. He didn’t have to entertain them at his home. Hell, they shouldn’t even know where he lived. The other heroes, the ones who’d given him this mission, would have agreed. They wouldn’t have expected him to do this. In fact, they would have been appalled if they’d known exactly what Hawks had done since accepting this mission.
But they didn’t know, and they wouldn’t.
This secret belonged to Hawks alone.
“Can I help you find something?” asked Hawks. He tried to sound annoyed, but Dabi’s smirk suggested he didn’t quite hit the mark.
“Probably,” said Dabi. He paused to eye the painting above the sofa. The condo had come fully furnished; Hawks had chosen none of the decorations himself.
Hawks folded his arms more tightly and drummed his fingers against his bicep, waiting. He wasn’t going to make the first move. He hadn’t been the one to initiate this in the past and he didn’t intend to do it now. If he didn’t offer, didn’t indicate that he wanted anything from Dabi, then he wasn’t liable. He could blame it on the villains, blame it on his mission, blame it on the way Dabi glanced over his shoulder with that dark gleam in his eyes.
Hawks’ stomach flipped and a spike of heat pulsed through his veins.
Dabi stepped past the painting and slipped through the half-open doorway of Hawks’ bedroom. He didn’t hesitate, because he already knew where he was going.
It wasn’t his first visit, and Hawks had a strong feeling it wouldn’t be his last.
Hawks pushed himself away from the wall and followed. He folded his wings behind him, the feathers tucking inward as he stepped through the doorway. Dabi had crossed the room to stand in front of the wide glass windows, looking down at the city nightscape below. Hawks had chosen this condo for the location rather than the view – it was in the middle of the city, and high enough that he could leap out the window and fly down to his destination in a matter of minutes – but he couldn’t deny that the lights spread beneath them like frozen fireworks were mesmerizing.
He stepped up beside Dabi and stared out at the horizon, hands tucked into his pockets, pointedly not looking at him. He didn’t have to look. Even with his eyes averted, he was all too aware of Dabi’s presence, like a dark smudge at the edge of his consciousness.
This was a bad idea. Everything about Dabi was a bad idea, and though Hawks knew that all too well, he still did nothing when that dark smudge pressed closer.
Dabi’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, and it reminded Hawks of the flesh-searing flames that slept beneath that patchwork skin.
Dabi could burn him to cinders in an instant. With him this close, Hawks could do nothing to stop him.
It was stupid to let Dabi in, to turn his back on the villain for even a second.
Still, when Dabi’s lethal hands squeezed his shoulders, Hawks didn’t push him away.
“I see your wings grew back.” Dabi’s voice was a low murmur, the words warm against Hawks’ ear. “How does that work?”
“None of your business.”
Dabi huffed, and it was almost a laugh. He pressed a hand against the curve of a wing and dragged his fingers through the feathers. Hawks clenched his fists in his pockets and refused to react. “Can you feel them?” asked Dabi, caressing the wing with surprising gentleness. When Hawks didn’t answer, he seized a handful of feathers and squeezed. “Did it hurt when you burned them to fucking ashes saving Endeavor?”
Hawks spread his wings and knocked Dabi a step back. He turned on him, teeth gritted, feathers ruffling behind him. “You know I couldn’t let him die out there. There were cameras everywhere. The heroes would think-”
Dabi seized his jaw, bringing Hawks’ explanation short. He stared down at him, eyes narrowed. He may have been smiling. It was hard to tell with the gashes slicing each side of his face.
“I don’t believe a single fucking word that comes out of your mouth, Hero,” said Dabi, his grip tightening. He definitely wasn’t smiling. “The only reason we’re still working with you is because you’ve been useful. The second we find out you’re playing us, you’re dead.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Hawks, the words distorted by the fingers clenching his face. He raised a brow and stretched out his wings. “You gonna kill me yourself, Frankenstein?”
Dabi considered him. His face didn’t change as his grip loosened and fell away. “No,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t.” He reached up again, fingers at Hawks’ jaw. This time he was gentle. “Someone else would do the killing, but before that, I’d make you suffer.”
A shiver tickled the base of Hawks’ spine but he forced it away. He hitched on a smirk, and though it was forced, he thought it felt believable. “You talk a big game, huh? As if you could take me in a fight. I’m the number two hero, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” said Dabi flatly. “You mention it so often it’s impossible to forget.”
Hawks shrugged and turned toward the windows again, pulling away from Dabi’s hand. He told himself that the thunder of his heartbeat was a spike of fear from the threat. There was no other reason for it; certainly not the careful way Dabi had caressed his face. “Just making sure you know how valuable I am. The League can use me, if you’d stop being so stubborn and let me in.”
“Baby steps,” said Dabi. His hand combed through Hawks’ wing again, carefully. “We have to be sure you won’t betray us.”
“We?” repeated Hawks, not looking at him. “Or you?”
“It’s the same thing.”
Hawks said nothing.
Dabi lightly tugged on the arch of his wing. “These are in my way.”
“Well they’re attached to me, so that’s too bad.”
“They don’t have to be.”
“Technically.”
Dabi stepped closer, his chest pressing against a cushion of feathers. His hands slipped around Hawks’ hips, pushing beneath his loose shirt. His fingers were smooth, normal. If Hawks closed his eyes he could almost pretend the man behind him wasn’t a mutilated villain with a penchant for burning people alive.
“You’re such a brat,” said Dabi. He nipped at the back of Hawks’ neck. “Must be because you’re basically just a kid.”
“Fuck off,” mumbled Hawks. “You’re barely older than me.”
“You don’t know how old I am.”
“No, but I can guess.”
“Are you curious?” said Dabi. His amusement was evident in his voice. “Do you want to know about me?”
“No. I don’t give a fuck about you.”
Dabi’s hands traveled higher, sliding up the sides of Hawks’ ribcage. Hawks found Dabi’s eyes in the reflection of the window and was met with a smug grin. It left a flutter in Hawks’ stomach that should have been disgust, but it was something warmer.
“Good,” said Dabi, the heat of his hands disappearing as he stepped back. “You shouldn’t.”
Hawks turned, confused, and was shoved against the window with Dabi’s palms flat against his chest. Dabi ducked close, nosed at the line of Hawks’ jaw, and dipped down to graze his teeth over the smooth skin of Hawks’ throat.
Hawks should have pushed him away. He should have stopped this before it had even started. He should have ended it the very first time, before it could become a routine.
He should have done a lot of things, but instead he tilted his head back and sucked in a breath as Dabi mouthed at his neck.
Dabi’s hands slipped back inside Hawks’ shirt, feeling up to his chest. “The wings,” he said, his voice a low rumble against Hawks’ throat.
Hawks ground his teeth together, torn between his own good sense and the warmth pulsing through his blood.
Just like last time, and the time before, Hawks made the wrong decision.
He flexed his wings once, then sent his feathers floating across the room, arranging them into a neat pile in the corner. He stopped when only the small downy feathers were left, but he would’ve likely removed those too, if he’d been able. It was stupid and irresponsible, just like every other decision he made when Dabi was around.
“That’s better,” said Dabi. He pulled back to yank Hawks’ shirt over his head, tossing it aside without a second glance. His mouth was back on Hawks immediately, trailing down to bite at his collarbone just sharply enough to sting.
Hawks gripped a handful of dark hair and gritted his teeth against a shudder. If he’d been vulnerable to Dabi before then he was completely defenseless now, without his wings. They were just across the room, but that would be much too far if Dabi attacked. Hawks wouldn’t have time to react. He’d be dead in seconds.
It was reckless, yet there was still something satisfying about Dabi wanting him like this, stripped of his quirk. Hawks was a popular hero, but he was only known for his wings. Without them, no one even recognized him on the street. He was the Winged Hero, and that was all; nothing more, nothing less.
Dabi couldn’t care less about the wings, and there was something validating about that.
Dabi’s hands slipped low, tugging at the band of Hawks’ low-slung sweatpants. He bit Hawks’ shoulder hard enough to bruise, and Hawks pushed him away with a hiss.
“Are you a fucking cannibal?” snapped Hawks, slapping a hand over his shoulder. It stung dully under his palm.
Dabi’s mouth curled with that twisted grin. It was grotesque, yet it still sent heat pooling low in Hawks’ gut. “Maybe so,” he said. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside. The shirt he wore beneath was cut just low enough to show a flash of the staples stamped across his chest, holding him together. “Would you be surprised?”
“No,” said Hawks. “That would actually be pretty in-character for you.”
Dabi’s grin widened. He stalked close again, and his gait was that of a predator.
Hawks knew he was the prey, and yet he made no move to escape.
Dabi crowded him against the window, and from that close, Dabi seemed even taller. He dragged his hands along Hawks’ chest, down to his hips, and slowly dragged his sweatpants off. They pooled around Hawks’ ankles, leaving him bare.
Dabi eyed him like he was a mannequin in a store window, on full display.
Hawks needed to say something sharp and snarky, just to snuff out the hungry look in Dabi’s eyes. Before he could even open his mouth, Dabi gripped him beneath the thighs and hefted him off of the floor, pivoting to throw him onto the bed behind them. Hawks flailed, tried to stretch out his wings to avoid impact, and thumped down onto the mattress when they weren’t there to support him.
Dabi seemed scrawny – sickly, even – but he must have been stronger than he looked.
“Was that necessary?” griped Hawks, as Dabi strolled closer.
“Not really.” Dabi pulled out the drawer of the bedside table, his eyes on Hawks as he reached inside. “I just like catching you off guard.”
“Is that why you dropped your monster into the middle of the city, then?” said Hawks, ignoring the insistent thump of his pulse as Dabi climbed onto the bed. “To catch me off guard?”
“Maybe.” Dabi seized Hawks’ ankle and pulled him closer, sitting up on his knees to look down at him. “I like watching you squirm.”
“I should kick you out of my house,” said Hawks flatly.
“Yeah,” agreed Dabi. “You should.” He gripped Hawks’ hip and flipped him over with ease.
Hawks rolled onto his stomach with a huff, bracing himself on his elbows to glare over his shoulder. “Could you stop doing that?”
Dabi didn’t answer. He snapped open the bottle in his hand and dripped lube over his fingers, eyeing Hawks with a raised brow.
Hawks swallowed and searched for something witty to say. Dabi shuffled closer, one hand sliding up Hawks’ bare thigh, and his words failed him.
“Finally,” said Dabi, leaning over him. “I thought you’d never shut up.”
Hawks started to snap back, but Dabi plunged a slick finger into him without warning. Hawks clenched his teeth together and buried his face in his forearms, choking back the embarrassing sound bubbling in his throat.
Dabi hummed, content. He gripped Hawks’ thigh and worked his finger deeper, sliding in and out. “If you would just keep your mouth shut you’d be decent company, Hero.”
Hawks glared over his shoulder. “You-”
Dabi shoved another finger in alongside the first and Hawks’ voice pitched into a startled yelp. He clenched his fists in the sheets and gritted his teeth against the burn of the stretch.
“Guess that’s too much to ask for,” said Dabi. He spread his fingers apart and Hawks twitched. “You like to hear yourself talk.”
Hawks wanted to call Dabi out on his hypocrisy, but he was afraid if he opened his mouth Dabi would cram in another finger to shut him up. He kept quiet as Dabi worked him open, prodding and scissoring, Hawks’ taut muscles gradually relaxing under the press of Dabi’s ministrations.
He shouldn’t relax at all, not while he was exposed and vulnerable with a villain. It was irresponsible. He should be on his guard, ready to fight for his life at a moment’s notice.
Yet when Dabi reached beneath him to fondle Hawks’ cock, his reaction wasn’t that of a man facing death.
He exhaled, breath unsteady, and pushed back against Dabi’s fingers. He should have been ashamed that this was even happening, that he was letting it happen, but he was too far gone to remember that this was a terrible idea.
Dabi pulled his fingers out and knelt between Hawks’ knees, squeezing his thigh one last time before his hands disappeared completely. There was the scratch of a zipper, and Hawks glanced over his shoulder to watch Dabi dip a hand into the front of his pants. He pulled out his cock, hard in his palm, and it was normal flesh instead of stapled patchwork. Hawks had been relieved the first time he’d seen it. He liked to think he would have said no if it had been scarred and mangled, but he couldn’t be sure.
Dabi pushed his pants down just enough to free his cock, but he didn’t strip them off completely. He hadn’t taken off his shirt, either. He’d remained clothed during all of their encounters. Hawks didn’t think it was a matter of modesty. Dabi probably thought Hawks would be repulsed by the sight of him.
Hawks didn’t know how much damage was covered by those clothes, but he didn’t think he would shy away now, considering how far he’d already fallen into this mess.
Dabi rested a hand in the middle of Hawks’ back, right between the remaining tufts of his wings. He pushed him flat, easing just enough weight onto him to hold him down as he shifted forward.
“I know I said you talk too much,” said Dabi, his grip rough on Hawks’ cheek as he spread him wide, “but I don’t mind if you scream.”
Hawks huffed a breath into the sheets. “You’re full of shit.”
“And you’re about to be full of me.”
“Did you really just-”
Before Hawks could finish the sentence, before he could brace himself, Dabi slammed into him with one quick snap of his hips. It knocked the breath from his lungs, left him gasping as Dabi muffled a groan into his shoulder. His teeth grazed Hawks’ skin as his grip went tight around a hip, holding him in place as he pulled out.
“C’mon,” said Dabi, his cock nudging at Hawks as he lined himself back up. “Make some noise for me, Hero.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why?” asked Dabi. He hunched over Hawks’ back and pressed himself in slowly, torturously. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re a hero trying to be a villain. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I told you,” said Hawks through gritted teeth, fists tightening in the sheets as Dabi slid further in. “I’m dedicated to the League. I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“Like letting me fuck you?” said Dabi. He pushed himself all the way in, knees braced against the mattress, a hand still heavy on Hawks’ back. “Is that for the League, Hero? Or just because you want it?”
“Shut up,” snapped Hawks.
Dabi pulled out and slammed into Hawks so hard that it hurt.
Hawks kept his lips pressed tightly together, because he feared he would beg Dabi to do it again.
A hand pulled tight in the back of Hawks’ hair, yanking his head back. Dabi’s cock sank deeper as he leaned close. “If only your little hero friends could see you now. What would they think of you?”
Hawks didn’t answer. It wasn’t something he was willing to think about.
Dabi huffed a hot breath into Hawks’ ear. His fist tightened in Hawks’ hair and his teeth scraped the back of his neck. “I’ll be gentle with you if you ask real nice.”
“Fuck you.”
Dabi laughed, a low rumble that sent a shiver racing the length of Hawks’ spine. “I knew you liked it rough.” He pulled out, and there was a split second in which Hawks became very aware of the sweat prickling his skin, the rapidfire thunder of his pulse, and the nearly painful stiffness of his cock.
Then Dabi’s teeth tore into his shoulder in the same instant that he thrust into him, and Hawks lost awareness of everything aside from the man on top of him. A shout squeezed its way out of his throat, a blend of pain and surprise and perverse pleasure. Dabi moaned into his shoulder, slamming into him at a quick pace, not giving Hawks a chance to catch his breath.
It was rough and gritty and exactly what Hawks had hoped for when he’d seen Dabi on his doorstep.
“Fuck.” Dabi dragged the word into a groan as he rocked his hips. “If I’d known fucking heroes was this good I’d have started doing it a long time ago.”
Hawks wanted to tell him to shut up again, but when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was a desperate moan.
Dabi yanked his head back further. “What do you think, Hero? You like getting fucked by villains?”
Hawks panted as Dabi thrust into him, unable to answer. Dabi was the only villain who’d ever touched him – the only one he would’ve allowed to touch him – but he wasn’t about to admit that. If Dabi wanted to think Hawks was doing this out of a twisted attempt to endear himself to the League, or to satisfy some sort of personal fetish, then that was for the best. It was better than letting him discover the truth.
Dabi released Hawks’ hair and he slumped onto the bed, scalp still stinging. Dabi gripped Hawks’ hips and hauled him onto his knees, pulling him back to meet his thrusts. It made the impact sharper, and when Dabi’s cock slammed into him at an angle, Hawks couldn’t bite back a moan.
Dabi said something, and it was probably a quip or a sarcastic comment. Hawks didn’t know, because the static in his head was too loud for him to hear. He only knew that Dabi was still fucking him, that the low growl of his voice was somehow comforting, and that when Dabi’s hand snaked around to grip Hawks’ cock, the surge of pleasure was so potent that everything else became a blur.
Dabi’s grip was the only thing keeping Hawks on his knees. When he let go, Hawks slumped onto his side, spent. His heartbeat had peaked into a frenzy, but now it began to slow as he drifted down from the high, vaguely aware of Dabi moving nearby.
Dabi could kill him right now. He wouldn’t even need his quirk. He could pull a gun, or a knife, or just use his bare hands. Hawks couldn’t have resisted, and he knew just how dangerous that state of mind was.
It wasn’t quite as dangerous as the satisfied smirk Dabi gave him before he rolled away.
“Don’t forget our meeting on Friday,” said Dabi. He stood by the edge of the bed, tucking himself into his pants and zipping them back up. “We have important things to discuss.” He knelt to retrieve his jacket from the floor.
“You gonna let me meet the boss?” asked Hawks, his voice a lazy drawl.
Dabi’s grin pulled wider. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
That was a no, and both of them knew it.
“I’ll see you then,” said Dabi with a casual wave, shrugging on the jacket as he paced toward the bedroom door. Hawks watched him go through heavily lidded eyes, his head rolling limply to the side.
He might have gathered the strength to move if his condo caught on fire. Then again, he may have just laid there and watched it go up in flames, the same was he was sitting back to watch his life go up in flames.
Dabi glanced back at him one last time, his stare lingering.
“Have a good night, Hero.”
With that he was gone, the distant sound of the front door announcing his departure.
Hawks sprawled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.
That had been a mistake.
Still, Hawks knew that the next time Dabi showed up, he would let him in again.
He sat up, his arms shaky, and realized he’d rolled into a puddle of his own come. That was bearable compared to the mess that was dripping out of him, courtesy of Dabi.
Slowly, he crawled out of bed and limped toward the bathroom, pretending not to notice the warm come rolling down his thighs.
Minutes later he was in the shower, wishing that the scalding water would wash him clean, and not just on a physical level.
As he scrubbed come out of his hair, the bite mark on his shoulder stinging, he reminded himself of his mission. That was the reason for all of this, after all. His feelings had nothing to do with it; they couldn’t.
Everything – letting Dabi into his home, stripping himself down to bare vulnerability, the stutter of his heartbeat when Dabi touched him – was part of the mission. That was all. It was for the greater good.
It was just a mission.