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He can feel his muscles tense just below the skin as one hand slips down the pale, exposed flesh of his stomach; eeking ever nearer to the point of no return, but at this point, Tomura doesn’t think he could stop himself if he tried. Because It’s been weeks and weeks on end now of absolutely no alone time, and frankly, it’s starting to drive him fucking insane.
And it’s not like it’s even really anyone’s fault but his own– of course, because he is the leader, isn’t he? If he wanted to get his league out of this slump, to get them stable again, it would be up to him to figure that out— but also, at the same time, he can’t, because again, the constant half-chub in his pants is making it really difficult to function. So it’s not like he really has a choice here, in the end, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself; getting off in a room laden with your sleeping companions is basically for everyone else’s sake. It’s kind of selfless, even– putting himself through this titillating anxiety just to make their lives better– he ought to be a saint.
Well… something like that, anyway.
Delving past the zip of his fly like it’s nothing, that hand continues its slow progression towards his dick, fingers ghosting over a tangle of silvery-blue curls before finally making contact with the waiting bundle of nerves; which twitches on contact like it’s begging for more, and Tomura does nothing but oblige. Using ring and pointer, he’s quick to pull back the hood, rubbing raw against the red face of his tip with the middle– which is sensitive to the point of being near-painful, but fuck if it doesn’t force out a low whine from his chest. He’s always been a slut for that kind of thing, though, so it’s really no surprise; his hips buck up in turn to press back, grinding into the pad of his finger, and he lets his eyes fall shut– letting the presence of everyone else in the room fall away mostly from his mind, giving himself whole to the reverie.
And it continues like this for a while— desperate ministrations, gaspy breaths in the dark of the room, dragging himself by the hair full force towards an orgasm— but no good deed must go unpunished, and, (even if Tomura doesn’t hear it), someone’s just pushed open the door…
…And by the time the sound of heavy boots against aged tatami hits his ears, it’s far beyond too late to hide it now.
“Wow, boss. Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” Dabi starts, voice low and grating as Tomura scrambles to try and cover himself; pants already half-shucked off in favor of exposing his cunt to the world, though a broad, warm hand comes in to grab his wrist and stop him before he can. He flinches underneath the pressure, eyes flitting up immediately to meet Dabi’s icy blues, but he finds no refuge there; they’re dark in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, boring straight into his soul, and unfortunately, Tomura can’t think anything but ‘fuck me.’
Then those blues flit down, look him over, and all at once he realizes exactly the position he’s in.
“Dabi–”
“…Didn’t take you as being this kind of guy, either. Guess we all have our secrets,” Dabi cuts him off, and releases his grip from Tomura’s wrist to slide it down onto the jut of his hip. Tomura can feel his heartbeat stutter from the contact.
“Is this why you haven’t been doing your job lately? ‘Cause you’re too much of a fucking gooned-out pervert to actually lead? Hah. Look how eager your dick is– it’s like you wanted someone to catch you.”
Tomura can feel his blood run cold, but he swallows, and tries to just push him away.
“You’re such a fucking creep, Dabi– Get away from me,” he hisses, four fingers grasping at the sides of his hand to pry it away from his skin; though Dabi seems to oblige, if only just for the moment, and pulls it away to hover a few inches above the flesh. Tomura can feel the warmth radiating off his palms even from here.
It’s tantalizing.
“Really? Too bad. I was thinking about being selfless for once,” Dabi croons, and starts to push himself up from where he’s squatted beside Tomura’s sleeping bag; “I mean, who better to help their boss get back on track than his right hand man? But, I guess if you’d rather keep humping your fingers like a dog, I won’t…”
Tomura shoots him a glare, grits his teeth, and tells himself mentally that he isn’t going to beg.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Don’t make me take it back. Do not wake anyone up.”
Dabi’s hand is back against his stomach before he has a chance to second-guess.
“You better stay quiet yourself, boss,” he murmurs, crawling onto Tomura’s sleeping bag and settling himself between either of the younger’s legs. Tomura only scoffs, but there’s a certain pale bloom in his cheeks that gives away just how much his body’s aching for this; and, like he knows what he’s thinking, Dabi dips down between his thighs without another word, two deft fingers coming in on both sides to pull apart either of his labia, exposing the flushed pink length of dick. It stands tall despite the brush of hair above it, and all Tomura can think is how Vulgar it is; not only his cock, but the pure base nature of the scene; it’s Perverted. The way Dabi is eyeing him up, the fact that anyone could’ve woken up and seen him, lying all vulnerable and erect— this whole thing was nothing but fucking obscene.
Dabi’s tongue is on him before he realizes, and he shivers, right hand sliding between those black locks and holding with a careful four-fingered grasp, trying to keep his cool.
“Gross,” Tomura breathes, pressing him forward, watching his length disappear into Dabi’s lips and his nose delve into his pubes; “I haven’t been able to shower since we last went into town.”
Dabi presses forward, sniffs, and instantly, he feels his stomach double over on itself. What the fuck is his problem? Dabi’s cheeks go hollow as he sucks around Tomura’s length, and the latter lets out a pathetic sort of sound that he only half-manages to subdue.
Fuck— this is way too much. Since when was Dabi interested in him like this— since when was Dabi interested in him at all? Maybe it was always something like a heated rivalry, but never in his wildest dreams did he think it’d come to something like this—
Whatever the case, Dabi tongues at the nub of his tip, he keens, and somebody rolls over on the other side of the room.
Fuck.
Time seems to stand still for a minute for everyone but Dabi as Tomura anxiously awaits some kind of bad reaction, but nothing seems to happen besides a few extra creaks in floor; Dabi never ceasing with his slobbering even despite the sound, and Tomura would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful.
They creep up on him, but soon enough, Dabi’s moved on, and his fingers are pressing at the drooling entrance of Tomura’s hole— who squirms, clenches hard, and fights the intrusion until the digits have shied fully away.
“Don’t.” Is all he says, but Dabi doesn’t question it.
“What about anal?”
“An— No. I’m not prepared,” Tomura furrows his eyebrows, incredulous, and Dabi sighs against his dick.
“Fine.”
Arms looping up around his bare thighs, Dabi props one leg up on either shoulder and hoists his ass up into the air; Tomura’s back curving into a loose arc as he adjusts to the new position. He’s surprised by how easily Dabi can manhandle him, but he supposes that’s proof of how much training he really does when he isn’t just brooding and lurking around like a creep— that, and proof that Tomura really needs to get into better shape, but that hardly seems important as the tip of Dabi’s nose disappears fully into his pubes again, and all he can feel is electric from the tip of his cock straight to his brain.
It’s like Dabi knows exactly how roughly he likes to be used, and is using it to his every advantage; giving him absolutely no chance to breathe against the barrage of pressure with his tongue, and he can feel the arsonists’s palms heating up against his skin.
“Asshole,” he mutters, biting, but Dabi only presses closer, and makes sure his chin is slicked. Fuck. He doesn’t think he can make it much longer. But in his defense, everything about this situation is entirely too much— like a sick fantasy come to life, and anyway, in this case, finishing faster is probably better— at least if you’re not looking to get caught, so he tries to be lenient with himself.
A string of curses fall past his lips as he rolls his hips upwards into Dabi’s mouth, hand pressing firmer against his head and gripping around his hair as he chases those first sparks of mounting pleasure; broken breaths drawn in in stutters as he tries to focus on nothing else besides cumming. Like he can sense it, Dabi grips either leg tighter, and digs his nails in until they make little red crescents against the pale— Tomura loves it, and whines, and wishes he could bring himself to let Dabi invade the sanctity of his body at first fuck.
“Fuck— I’m gunna’ cum,” he whispers, riding Dabi’s face like his very life depends on it, and Dabi tries to brace himself for the inevitable crushing of thighs around his head that he knows isn’t far from coming.
When that pressure finally overloads, he grunts loud, and clenches and claws at Dabi’s head so hard you’d think he was trying to escape; dick all twitchy against his tongue as he cums hard into his mouth, and Dabi laps it right up like it’s the best thing he’s had in weeks. The come-down is hard as he has to practically shove Dabi’s head away from his cock, and his heart is pounding so loud in his ears now he can hardly hear anything else. The night air is cold against the wet mess of his pussy, and he groans, peeking up at Dabi just in time to watch him wipe his face off on his coat. There’s a moment of hesitance where they do nothing but meet eachother's eyes, and then, finally, Dabi moves away.
“Ah… I hope I was able to motivate you a little. Maybe now we’ll get to sleep on real beds like the high-class organization you made us out to be,” he sneers, taking a step back towards the door. Running away again, Tomura thinks, and casts him a glare from where he’s laid.
“You’re not gonna’ go around saying I ‘owe you’ for this or anything, right? I’m not putting any stapled-up cocks down my throat just because you couldn’t mind your business.”
“Hah. Don’t worry, boss; no strings attached. Just doing my part to keep the league running in tip-top shape,” Dabi laughs, wheezy, before disappearing just as quickly as he’d come; back out into the night, and all Tomura could do now was lay there and think.
…What the fuck was that all about?