Chapter Text
It takes a while for his brain to catch up to his mouth, for his mind to realize just what the rest of his body is so eagerly agreeing to. Satoru just asked him if he wanted to go home with him. And Hawks had immediately, without even a hint of hesitation, agreed.
That was profoundly short-sighted of him.
Going home with strangers just as a general rule of thumbs seemed like a rather risky business, but he supposed that’s what he went out for to begin with so he can hardly complain about the results. Plus, he’s literally the Top Three Hero in the country. He’d hope he could defend himself against a civilian, if it truly came down to that. And he’d had plenty of education on practicing safe sex.
No, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about.
Rather, his pride.
He immediately shakes that thought away. Being a virgin is hardly anything to be embarrassed about. It is, however, something he ought to tell his partner before they go any farther.
“Err— Satoru-san,” he starts, hesitantly, as the man fiddles with the keypad of the hotel room.
“Hmm?”
The door opens with a soft click, revealing a rather perfunctory king-sized bed and room with the standard hospitality trappings. It’s a little more pedestrian than what Hawks had expected, considering what he’s heard of love hotels. He’d been a bit worried the whole affair would be terribly embarrassing, but as it turns out checking into a room was a rather discreet and simple process.
“To be honest, I’ve never done this before.” He admits, letting himself into the room.
Satoru slinks out of his scarf, tossing it haphazardly over the desk chair as he works at his coat. “Never danced at a nightclub, or gone home with someone afterwards? Yeah, I kinda already figured as much.” Satoru comments, good-natured laughter coloring his voice as he tosses his shades off along with his jacket
Hawks shakes his head, plopping himself on the edge of the bed for lack of anything else to do. “Ah, no, not just that. I meant sex… in general.”
This gives Satoru pause. “Oh. Like, never, at all?”
“Nope,” Hawks replies, gaze flicking up to him. “Is that… alright?”
“Yeah, of course.” Satoru returns with an immediacy that can only come from honesty, assuaging the worst of Hawks’s fears.
He shucks off his coat, then drops onto the bed next to Hawks, a small but intentional distance between them. Hawks releases a shaky breath. It all just sort of caught up to him right now. What he’s doing. It feels both perfectly natural yet profoundly embarrassing to be so apprehensive about it. He just went home with a stranger. That’s normal— perhaps even expected— behavior for a kid his age, but stripped from the trappings of modern social constructs, seems rather monumental.
A hand slips over his own, where he’s got the fabric of his pants clenched in a death grip over his thigh. “Hey,” Satoru says, softly, “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you just want to hang out and watch midnight reruns on TV, that’s fine.”
Hawks lets out a breath. Is it, though? He’s pretty sure there’s a word for people who do what he’s doing now, and it’s not meant to be flattering. Tease.
“I wouldn’t want to just lead you on,” Hawks protests, frowning down at the floor.
“Not at all.” Satoru returns, with a vehemence that surprises him enough to halt his death glare at the carpet and turn to him. “And don’t ever do anything you’re not comfortable with just because it’s what the other person wants— and if they try to give you shit for it, they’re not the kind of person you want to be consorting with anyway.”
That’s impressively sound advice— for sex, and for life in general, he thinks.
Hawks worries at his bottom lip. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he admits, haltingly. “I just… don’t really know how.”
As a hero he cultivates a reputation for being confident to the point of arrogance, and everyone in the industry can grumble about it all they like but at the end of the day he earned that confidence through talent and hardwork. Through years of training and experience. But this is an area he has very little experience in, and that’s painfully obvious.
A lesser man would have taken advantage of that, he can’t help but notice. And Hawks, eager to shed himself of his inexperience, would have been happy to let them.
“That’s fine,” Satoru assures him, gently. His thumb rubs against the back of Hawks’s hand in soothing circles. Hawks relaxes a bit under the touch, turning his hand so their palms align.
When he finally has the courage to meet those luminous eyes again, he finds the white-haired man studying him with a soft, patient expression. Satoru might be a veritable stranger to him, but Hawks should at least give himself credit for his own taste. Those years of interpersonal training haven’t failed him; Hawks doesn’t think he could have picked a better person to do this with if he tried.
Satoru gives their threaded fingers a light squeeze. “Do you want to just follow my lead again? I’ll walk you through it, and you can tell me if that’s something you’re into or not.”
Hawks squeezes back. “That’s— yeah. Let’s try that.” He’s followed Satoru’s lead this far and hasn’t been led astray.
Satoru smiles, then leans closer. Hawks thinks he’s going to go in for another kiss— and from all the necking they’d done on the elevator ride up here, he thinks he’s gotten the hang of it enough to actually try kissing back this time— but instead he tugs Hawks up by their joined hands. Curious, Hawks follows him as he leads them into the bathroom. Like the rest of the room, it’s clean and serviceable, but not really anything to write home about, and the change in location seems a little counterintuitive when they’d already been on the bed. Unless Satoru prefers sex in the bathroom? He supposes that’s probably a thing.
But Satoru doesn’t reach for him as they stand together in the somewhat small space. Actually, he’s reaching for the tap. The faucet gurgles to life, the sounds of rushing water filling the air.
Hawks blinks. “What are we doing here?”
Satoru looks amused as he replies. “Washing our hands.”
He chuckles at the utterly perplexed expression Hawks sends his way.
“Look, I’m gonna level with you here— a lot of this night is going to be surprisingly unsexy,” Satoru explains, with a rueful smile. “But you said this was your first time, so I want to make sure we do everything properly. Safety first, right?”
His chest feels tight and fluttery, in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with arousal. Satoru’s right— this is really unsexy. But it’s also, somehow, stupidly hot at the same time.
It’s the way he cares, Hawks thinks. The way he’s taking the time to do things that are definitely spoiling the mood because he knows they’re important steps for a novice to know, but he’s still going out of his way to teach Hawks what he needs to learn.
“Right,” Hawks agrees, with a pleased smile. “Before and after, then?”
“Yep, exactly.” Satoru nods, handing him the soap.
In fairness to the white-haired man, there shouldn’t be anything particularly arousing about this task but he seems to be doing his level best to get Hawks to pop a boner through it anyhow. He finishes first and reaches around Hawks to grab the towel off the rack, and while Hawks is focused on giving his hands the most thorough washing of their life, steps between his wings to press himself all along Hawks’s back, arms winding under his. His breath hitches as he feels the long, solid heat of him, wings trapped beneath his weight. Satoru flicks the tap off, and gathers his hands up in the towel. He begins to dry Hawks’s hands in an unfairly indecent manner, taking his sweet time drying off every finger.
“T— Thanks,” he stutters out, once Satoru puts the towel aside. The other man raises those captivating eyes to his in the mirror, and Hawks thinks it's entirely justified how he freezes up and totally forgets how to breathe when the man raises his now-dried hand up to his mouth and gently sucks at a knuckle.
“There,” Satoru says, mouth wet and shiny as he pulls away. “All clean.”
Unsexy my ass, Hawks thinks, vaguely panicked. Hawks will never be able to wash his hands again without thinking of this moment.
“No open wounds, either,” he adds, which does serve to drag Hawks’s mind out of the gutter. “That’s good.”
“Huh?”
“It can be hard to notice sometimes, especially if it’s a small or minor, but if there’s one bodily fluid you definitely don’t want to be swapping, it’s blood.”
Oh. So Satoru wasn’t actively trying to melt his brain out of his ears earlier, he was just being thorough about checking for any open cuts.
Satoru pauses. “Unless you’re into that, I guess. Uh, I’m not here to judge. But maybe don’t be into that unless you’ve seen your partner’s test results first.”
Hawks chokes on an incredulous laugh. “Right, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.” He gazes at Satoru through the mirror, biting at the inside of his lip. “I’m clean, by the way.” He offers, after a beat. He gets checked pretty regularly, as part of the general panel of tests he gets done as a hero.
“So am I,” Satoru replies, without missing a beat. “But in general, I wouldn’t take someone at their word with that.”
“Oh,” Hawks says, flushing.
Satoru softens a bit, gathering Hawks’s hands up in his own. “I’m not saying that to be rude— you might believe that with the most honest of intentions, but unless you got tested just yesterday, if you’ve been active at all with partners there’s a chance your results have changed.”
“Well, not yesterday, but within the last few months for sure.” Hawks returns, a little distracted by the way Satoru’s fingers slide neatly against his own.
They’re long and thin, almost delicate, if not for the roughness across the fingertips of his left hand. It’s curious enough that Hawks loses the plot for a bit— he noticed those calluses earlier, but he doesn’t know what they mean. His own hands have plenty of them, from weapons training and working out and just his daily life on the job, but they’re the usual marks of physical labor, distributed around his grip line. By contrast, Satoru’s palms are soft and supple, and it’s only his left hand that has marks.
Hawks drags himself back to the present, shaking his head. “And like I said, I’ve never done this before. And I definitely haven’t been active since my last test.”
“I believe you,” Satoru chuckles, mouthing at his neck. “Virginity is a little hard to fake. But I meant you really shouldn’t be taking me at my word.”
Hawks nibbles anxiously at his lower lip. He completely understands where Satoru’s coming from. People lie all the time, and they might not even be doing it intentionally. Say what you want about the Commission and their questionable and predatory practices, but he’s never lacked in thorough education, and that includes sex ed. But it’s one thing to know about the disconcertingly long list of risks intercourse can expose him to, and wholly another to actually be in a situation where he’s engaging in intimacy with another person.
Satoru’s right. He shouldn’t take him at his word.
But his instincts have never led him astray yet, and he doesn’t think they will now. Something in his gut tells him he can trust Satoru. Perhaps not with everything, but at least with this.
“Does that mean we should stop?” Hawks turns his head towards Satoru, nose brushing against the other man’s cheek.
Satoru lets go of his hands, stepping back to give Hawks room to turn around. “It means the ball’s in your court. If you’re not comfortable taking that kind of risk, then don’t.”
He bites down on his lip again, then forces himself to stop before he accidentally draws blood. It feels like instinct to reach out for the other man— for reassurance or solidarity, he’s not sure. Satoru doesn’t stop him as his hands reach up to frame the other man’s preternaturally beautiful face; striking blue eyes glitter above his thumbs with such shocking brilliance they seem to swallow up all the color and light from the rest of the world. His hair is soft and delicate where his fingers linger around his temples, as fine and smooth as silk. He looks utterly unreal. How the hell did Hawks end up with this man all to himself for the night?
(How is he supposed to let him go after just one night?)
“You’ve been a good teacher so far,” Hawks says, and this close he can catch the strange flicker in the other man’s eyes at his words, something too close to lament or regret for Hawks’s liking. “I want to see what else you have to teach me.”
Satoru lets out a quick breath. When he opens his eyes again that strange look is long gone, replaced by a heat that makes Hawks’s stomach clench. “Well then, let’s see how good of a student you are.”
He takes a step forward, and Hawks eagerly meets him halfway. “I’m a quick study, promise,” he murmurs against the other man’s lips, before he tugs him forward with the hands buried in his hair.
To be entirely frank, he never really understood the appeal of kissing. Shoving his tongue down someone else’s mouth sounded awkward and messy at best, and depending on the other set of teeth involved, just asking for a bleeding tongue at worst. After a whole night of getting up close and personal with Satoru’s mouth, he doesn’t necessarily think his stance has changed. It’s still awkward and a bit messy, but there’s something strangely alluring to the closeness of it anyway— of sharing space and air with another person, the way he can run his hands all over the other man as he kisses him and feel the response of every touch.
“What— what happens now?” Hawks asks, breathlessly, once they part.
A lilting smile dashed across his face, pretty eyes twinkling. “I’m in the mood to get fucked tonight. Does that sound like something you’d like to try?”
Hawks swallows with an audible click. The idea of fucking this impossibly beautiful man has all the thoughts in his head flying right out of his ears. Hawks.exe has short circuited. There’s no hope of a reboot.
“Yeah,” he says, on autopilot. “Yeah it does.”
-
The blonde sounds like he can’t believe his own ears, and to be fair, Gojo kind of feels the same.
He’s a little surprised with himself for offering that, even though it’s true. He always tops during casual sex. It’s not his preference, but the alternative is too personal to offer for a one night stand. He usually just takes care of himself on his own, after the fact.
He’s still a little floored he even offered it at all, to this absolute stranger. He never does this, so what’s so different about Keigo that he actually changed his mind?
There’s just something so earnest about the man, he thinks.
It takes an impressive amount of confidence to be so unflinchingly honest and communicative and reveal your own inexperience like that, and Gojo can admit he finds that incredibly attractive. Keigo offered up his own vulnerabilities without hesitation, and hasn’t once tried to deceive him in any way. He thinks he can trust the other man with this.
It also doesn’t hurt that he’s so obviously eager to please Gojo in whatever manner he asks— and has proven, true to his word, to be a rather quick study. He has no doubt Keigo will manage to fuck the living daylights out of him by the end of this, even if he started the night an adorably blushing virgin. Not only does he have no doubt— it’s something he actively wants to see.
And anyway, nothing he said was untrue. He wants to get fucked tonight one way or another, and with the way this night has turned out he may as well teach Keigo how to do it. Keigo being a virgin doesn’t hamper the night at all, but it does put some limitations on what Gojo’s willing to do with him. Fucking him if he’s never bottomed before, or even knows the first damn thing about it, is just not on the table. This is a perfect compromise all around.
He leads Keigo towards the bed, shucking off his clothes as he goes. As a strip tease it’s a little hasty and subpar, but you wouldn’t guess that from the way Keigo seems to be devouring him with his eyes.
Gojo shivers under that golden gaze, quietly thrilled by all that predatory focus being squarely fixed on him.
“What do you know about lube?” He asks, and not really for Keigo’s sake. He feels like he’s going to burn up in that gaze if he doesn’t distract himself.
Keigo blinks, finally, and some of that pressure eases off as he’s caught off guard by the question. “Uh, you can buy it at the store? Sometimes it’s flavored?”
He fishes his own bottle out of his coat pocket with a chuckle. “That’s usually water-based lube— and for the record, just because it’s flavored doesn’t mean it’s actually edible. You’re really not supposed to consume it. And silicone is better, for what we’re doing.”
It honestly feels rather strange to lecture someone about this, especially in this kind of situation. Gojo half expects to find Keigo looking a bit uncomfortable when he turns back around, but if anything, he merely looks as if he’s taking this adorably seriously.
He walks back towards Keigo, tossing the lube onto the bed as he reaches over to start divesting the other man of his clothes, covering his mouth with his own. This actually turns out to be a more difficult endeavor than he’d expected, as he slips open all the buttons on his shirt but then finds himself at a loss as to how to take it off him. He breaks away from the kiss with a somewhat consternated expression. Those golden eyes blink open at him, and then the other man chuckles as he seems to realize what the problem is. Keigo leans away and grabs the lapels of his shirt, and suddenly the room is enveloped in red.
Gojo leans back, blinking rapidly as his Six Eyes are abruptly overwhelmed in a sea of unexpected quirk energy. Feathers disperse into the air, and then with hypnotically perfect precision, arrange themselves into a pile on the desk. Gojo follows the mesmerizing patterns they make in the air with a look of unabashed awe. When he looks back Keigo’s slid off his shirt and is working at his belt, appearing entirely nonchalant after such an impressive display.
So that’s how his quirk works, huh? It doesn’t look as if Keigo has even noticed how outrageously attractive that was, or even if he intended it to be, but as far as strip teases go, he definitely blew Gojo out of the water.
He has thousands of questions he wants to ask the blonde— how does it work? Does he control each feather individually? And if so, how much control can he exert over a single feather? Is it telekinetic?— but quirks tend to be fairly personal, and not something he’s found people to be willing to discuss at length during a one-night stand.
So instead of asking, he drags Keigo towards him by the belt loops and topples them both onto the bed. Keigo catches himself before he falls on top of him with impressively quick reflexes, looking a bit startled. His eyes grow even more wide as Gojo reaches above his head to snag the bottle of lube, popping the cap open. It’s actually quite fascinating, and a little exhilarating, to see how quickly those auric eyes dilate as they follow Gojo’s hand as he trails it down his body. This is actually the first time Gojo’s ever slept with someone with an animal mutation-quirk; he’s a little shocked by how hot he finds all the blatantly inhuman traits. He imagines fear should be the primary response to being pinned down by a predator like this, but what he feels right now is the farthest thing from fear. So far, in fact, that he’s a little worried he’s not going to last very long like this.
With that thought, he decides to get this show on the road.
“Like what you see, Kei-kun?” Gojo teases with a roguish grin, legs falling open as his fingers wander lower down his body.
~
Those long, elegant fingers slip inside of him, and it’s the hottest fucking thing Hawks has ever witnessed in his life. The most beautiful man he’s ever seen is fingering himself open for Hawks, and somehow he’s supposed to not just expire at the sight of it. Hawks feels his mouth go dry at the sight of those shiny digits disappearing into that tight, pink hole. It looks impossibly small; there’s no way something as big as his dick is ever going to fit in there. He’s not even trying to be arrogant about his size or anything, it just seems physically impossible.
Somehow, he strings two thoughts together long enough to remember Satoru asked him a question.
“Very much so.” He manages to say, even though his tongue feels like lead.
He watches, a bit mesmerized, as Satoru eases himself open with lube-slicked fingers and the casual air of an expert. He doesn’t seem to waste much movement; Hawks isn’t sure if that’s for his own benefit or for Hawks. As much as he seems to like putting on a show, he’s probably aiming for expedience for Hawks’s sake.
Well. That won’t do at all.
“Can I try?” He asks, voice rough, eyes never once leaving Satoru’s fingers and that maddeningly tiny hole they keep disappearing into.
He licks his lips, tries again, “Will you teach me, I mean? To do it how you like it?”
Satoru makes an indiscernible noise. “Warn a guy before you say things like that,” He teases, but from the way his cheeks turn a bit red, isn’t as unaffected as he appears.
Nonetheless he tosses the lube at Hawks with his free hand. Hawks catches it in the air without looking away from him, pops the cap open, and spills a generous amount on his hand. Satoru is watching him with glowing eyes, mouth slightly parted. Hawks finds he greatly likes having the man’s attention so unerringly focused on him. The feeling is mutual, he thinks, from the way a lurid red blush spreads up Satoru’s chest the longer Hawks keeps his unblinking gaze on him.
He doesn’t look away, not even as his finger presses against something shockingly soft and ungodly hot. He holds Satoru’s luminous eyes as he slowly inches his finger inside him, brushing past the man’s own digit as he presses in even further. Even without his wings, when they’re this close he can hear the way the other man’s heart rate kicks up into overdrive, the hitch in his breath as Hawks slowly starts to push his finger in and out, even the frantic rush of his blood as his flush crawls up to his neck. The pink is so fetching against his pale skin, several shades lighter than his own, that he can’t resist the urge to lean in and bite him.
“Ah—”
Oh— he likes that, huh? Hawks can definitely work with that.
He’s still not entirely sure how to do this, but after a bit of tentative exploration seems to find the spots Satoru likes the best, as he grazes his teeth along the other man’s collar bone. Between his mouth and his fingers he must be doing something right, because the other man removes his own hand to instead grab at his wrist with a low moan and, indulging in Hawks’s request, shows him exactly how he likes it.
Satoru rocks into his hand, making small, encouraging noises in the back of his throat whenever Hawks finds an angle he likes. He seals his mouth at the base of the man’s throat, just to feel those sounds at the source. He works his way up to two fingers, spurred on by the littered praises falling from Satoru’s lips, “Right there, just like that— yes, fuck, that’s it—” and he must not be the only one feeling the rising tension between them, because it’s really not long at all before Satoru is batting his hand away and pouncing on him with blazing eyes. There’s a mark at the bottom of his throat in the shape of Hawks’s mouth, and he feels unmoored and unraveled at the sight.
“Lesson’s over,” he says, voice ragged as he straddles Hawks’s thighs.
Hawks is hardly complaining at this particular turn of events.
Satoru leans down to catch his lips in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that has his blood boiling. “Put those feathers of yours to good use,” he gasps, sounding wrecked when he pulls away. “My coat— there’s a condom in the left interior pocket.”
His head swims with the effort of trying to control his quirk while all the blood in his body rushes to his dick. He thinks, somewhat hysterically, that this is emphatically not what the Commission had in mind when they trained him to use his quirk under strenuous conditions, but hell if it doesn’t come in handy right now. Two feathers zip towards them with a little metallic square pinned between them, just as Hawks manages to kick off his pants.
Satoru holds his gaze with searing eyes, never looking away, not even as he flings out a hand and catches the condom, then drags it up to his mouth to rip the packaging with his teeth. It’s a maddeningly arousing tableau that’s going to live rent free in Hawks’s head for the rest of his life.
He expects the other man to lean down and roll it on Hawks himself, or maybe even teasingly demand Hawks do it himself and call it a pop quiz.
The reality is far more devastating.
Satoru rolls the condom in his mouth until the ridge catches along the circle of his teeth, and then, before Hawks can even think to brace himself, ducks down to slide it over his dick with his lips. He swears he sees the light of god as every inch of his cock is enveloped in a sudden, shocking wet heat.
Well that’s a hell of a pro move, he thinks, dazedly, blinking spots out of his eyes as his hands fly up into the other man’s hair on instinct, holding on for dear life.
Satoru pulls off just as quickly as he’d swallowed him whole, although he takes his time running his tongue along the thin plastic lining now covering his dick in a manner that threatens to pull his soul straight from his body. It feels good, better than good, but he can’t help but wonder how much better it would feel without any lining between them all. Dangerous train of thought, he admonishes himself, dragging his mind out of that particular gutter, just as Satoru sits up again.
“No holes or tears,” he says with a low, smoldering grin that sets Hawks’s stomach ablaze. He winks down at him. “You always have to check, y’know?”
Hawks just nods wordlessly before he says something criminally idiotic like, you can check me any day.
Actually, he doubts the words would even manage to leave his mouth right now, because he’s having trouble even forming coherent thought as he watches Satoru sit up on his knees, leaning forward to line Hawks’s cock up to his entrance. He thinks he might be having an out of body experience, to be honest. Satoru looks like a dream above him, all milky skin and striking blue eyes and kiss-bitten lips.
He sinks down all at once in a move that seems to render both of them speechless. Satoru’s eyes snap open and his mouth opens in a silent cry, expression caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. He looks like Hawks just split him open, which isn’t entirely all that off the mark. Hawks isn’t faring all that much better; he’s entirely unprepared for the sinfully wet heat of the man’s body, clenched around him like a vise. It’s an agonizingly tight fit. He’s fairly certain his soul just exited his body, but holy hell what a wonderful way to die.
Hawks sends a prayer of thanks up to whatever god there is that Satoru doesn’t immediately start moving after he takes his cock all at once, otherwise he might have just embarrassingly blown his load right then and there. As it is he just desperately tries to conjure up the most unsexy thoughts he can think of, but fails terribly. In his defense, it’s very difficult to think of unsexy things when the sexiest man on the planet is on top of him, adjusting to the stretch of Hawks’s dick inside him.
“Is this okay?”
Hawks stares up at him, slack-jawed, eyes glazed, having trouble processing the question. When it registers, his first reaction is confusion.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He returns, incredulously.
He literally has what must be the most beautiful man in existence, stretched out naked above him, riding his dick. Everything about this situation is much more than just okay.
Satoru huffs out a laugh. “I meant the position, for your back.” He clarifies and— oh, shit, Hawks said that aloud, didn’t he?
It’s too late to be embarrassed about it. And anyway, what’s there to be embarrassed about? None of it was untrue.
“I’m fine,” he says, feeling oddly flustered over the question, considering he’s balls deep in the other man. But he hadn’t expected Satoru to even notice that this position might be hard with his wings. Then he asks, a little wryly; “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Satoru leans over him with two hands on his chest; the change in angle does terrible things for his already tenuous control. “Oh, I’m more than fine,” the white-haired man all but purrs at him. “I’m perfect, actually. You’re perfect.”
Hawks raises a brow, somewhat incredulous. It’s not as if he has any kind of self-esteem issues about his manhood or anything, but in a world where mutation quirks have made tentacle-sex and monster-fucking pretty commonplace, he can’t imagine it’s that impressive.
“No need for flattery, you’ve already got me where you want me,” Hawks jokes, if only to take his mind off the perfect, gripping heat of Satoru’s body.
“Exactly— so what’s the point in lying?” Satoru returns, with a devilish smirk, and that’s all the warning Hawks gets before he starts moving.
Hawks stifles a curse, hands flying up around Satoru’s hips just to hold on to something. Maybe Satoru really isn’t just lying to flatter to him, because he actually seems really into it. His flush from earlier hasn’t gone away, an alluring red still crawling up his chest, and his cock is hard and leaking between them, bobbing up and down with his movement, precum sliding off the tip and dripping burning hot against Hawks’s stomach. It probably says a lot about him that he wants to see more of it, wants to watch this man fall apart on his cock and drench them both in it. He might be closer to realizing that fantasy than he could have possibly thought, he thinks, from the way Satoru is leaking all over him without even being touched.
“Fuck, you really do like this,” he breathes, eyes wide. He grips Satoru even tighter, and the tempting moan he gets out of the other man from it sounds like music to his ears. “Can you come, just like this? Just from being split open on my cock?”
Satoru gives a full body shudder, rhythm stuttering briefly as his eyes fly open. “Who— who taught you how to talk dirty like that?” He pants, accusingly.
Hawks just smiles and blinks the sweat out of his eyes. “I told you I’m a fast learner.”
“That’s—” He sinks down just as Hawks thrusts up, and the rest of his words are lost in a sharp gasp.
“—that’s very unfair,” Satoru says, face flushed a very pretty pink all over his cheeks. He puts his hands on Hawks’s chest and lets Hawks set the pace with the bruising grip he’s got on his hips, and the rhythm they set together is filthy and devastating and perfect.
You’re unfair, Hawks thinks back, fervently. The way he sighs so prettily as he bounces up and down on his cock, devouring him whole with those searing eyes— it feels like a dream. A fantasy. Something utterly, impossibly unfair.
“I— Satoru— I can’t—” He swallows for air, greedy gasps of it, like he’s drowning in that brilliant blue gaze, “I’m not gonna last like this—” He throws his head back as Satoru drops down just as he surges up and he sinks impossibly deep into that fever-hot heat.
His fingers dig into flawless pale skin, no doubt leaving marks. Somehow, through sheer force of will or just pure stubbornness, he manages to hold off his own ruin long enough to say, plaintively; “Tell me how to make you come.”
Satoru groans above him; he feels it over every inch of his dick.
“I wanna make you come,” he pushes up blindly into that clenching passage one more time, then keeps Satoru fully seated on his cock with a bruising grip around his hips. Satoru lets out a ragged breath, lashes fluttering. “Please,” he coaxes, hands sliding up over the long expanse of silky skin, ghosting over his nipples in a way that makes the other man shiver, trailing up the sensitive arch of his neck, over the mark he’d left there earlier, until he’s swiping his thumbs beneath those pearlescent lashes. They slip open to reveal blazing strips of blue, so bright he could blind himself in them. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
Satoru shivers, sucking in a sharp breath. “Fuck,” he hisses, biting down into his swollen bottom lip. Hawks wants to reach up and bite it for him, wants it to hurt, some wild and primal thing inside him wanting to see this man marked up and claimed.
“Just fuck me, just like this,” says Satoru, and as if summoned by Hawks’s thoughts, leans down to slide their lips together, tender, swollen flesh hot and enticing beneath his teeth. He can’t help but bite into it, just enough to draw out a shocked moan from the other man. No blood, he reminds himself. That would be unwise. But Satoru never said anything about no marks.
He buries his mouth into the inviting arch of the man’s neck, far above the bruise he’d made earlier, just below his chin where nothing short of an extremely conservative turtleneck was going to cover it, and bites, hard.
Satoru gasps his name, hands flying to grip fistfuls of his hair. He pitches forward, Hawks chases the sweet give of his body, keeping him in place with an unyielding hold on his thighs as he ruts into him with reckless abandon. There’s very little finesse involved, but frankly Satoru seems pretty into it anyway, keening weakly in his arms as his cock drags between them in a wet, sloppy, slide.
It is, once again, nothing but sheer force of will and his own competitiveness that has him powering through the sinuous, rippling vise of Satoru’s orgasm without giving into his own, even as Satoru seems intent on trying to wring out every drop of come from him with his own body. He’ll give himself credit for managing to fuck the other man through his own climax, even if he doesn’t last very much longer than that. It’s not the thought of the other man coming untouched from his cock alone that does him in— although that’s not a moment he’s ever going to forget— but what happens after. The sticky mess between them drips everywhere as Satoru comes, dribbling down the man’s spent cock and trickling lower to where Hawks is still fucking into him, and it’s the filthiest fucking thing Hawks has ever seen, it’s so fucking hot, he wants to see it for real, wants to see this man filled and dripping with his own come—
He doesn’t quite black out in the aftermath, but it’s a near thing.
His heart still feels like it's about to burst from his chest, but not as if it's going to give out on him any time soon. It was a near thing though, he thinks. He now entirely understands what people say when they call sex ‘a religious experience’. He thinks he just ejaculated his soul out.
The body on top of him starts to shake uncontrollably, and as Satoru lifts his head he realizes the other man is laughing at him. Oh, he said that aloud again, didn’t he? Looks like his brain to mouth filter is still defunct.
“That good, huh?” Satoru teases, with a cheeky smile.
Hawks laughs, pulling him up for a kiss. “How soon can we do that again?”
“No need to be so hasty,” Satoru murmurs against his lips. “We’ve got all night, after all.”
He supposes the other man has a point, but a sense of urgency overwhelms him anyhow. They might have all night, but he doesn’t think a single night will be enough for him anymore. It’s the most dangerous thought he’s had all evening, so he banished it to the back of his mind.
Satoru’s not asking for any more than a night, and Hawks is in no position to be offering anything anyway.
This is enough.
(It has to be enough.)
Hawks will just have to make the most out of what he can have, the memories of the other man his treasures to keep with him.
He leans down to nose against Satoru’s shoulder, slick and supple skin just waiting to be claimed.
If a night is all he’s got, then at the very least, he’ll leave plenty of marks for Satoru to remember him by.