FUck I have RP here

This must have been the meaning of all those lyrics about fucking like animals, because that’s all that he feels like right about now. And the beast is ravenous. Dabi’s pulled even closer so that lips smash into each other and breaths collide, spit on their mandibles. In heat.

Back arches more, positioning himself for all those deep thrusts to pass by even more effortlessly. The wet slop of each motion as both hole and dick were lubricated to high heavens. To call it a mess would be apt. Animalistic, yet again-

He lets Dabi grab hold of his extra sensitive cock; it must have turned red at the slightest touch, and every pass of the foreskin over the glans added just that little bit of zing to the entire encounter. And pace quickens and Tomura meets it by bucking his hips ever so lightly at the lowest of points.

“Fuck,fuck, fuckfuck-fuck-“

It seemed like the only think he could say at this point. He’s starting to tire and all teeth have been extracted from his responses, as such, body’s just going along with the rhythm imposed to it by Dabi. And that was relentless, sending electricity all the way up to his cheeks. Hairs stood on end, skin prickled and he could almost feel the way they vibrated with each thrust.

The insanity of it all- for once it didn’t itch? Perhaps this was scratching the exact itch that he’s been looking for, because his body for once felt free. Fuck yes. Keep that up-

Head bends back as far as it’d go and hands search for something to hold on to and he’s careful not to touch anything with his pinky, up in the air as far as it’ll go. It’s in Dabi’s hair, right as he’s talking dirty and sweet and his cock keeps on throbbing. It’s sore and yet he doesn’t want it to stop.

                           ❝ tch, no? the source of my power are my leather pants. ❞  and three blue-eyed white dragons.

“Leather pants-“

                          ❝ … sounds like you don’t believe in the heart of the cards, tomura. ❞

“You really wanna duel, mister?“

yeah. that’ll certainly do; breath’s released from being held too tight, steadfast heartbeat once increased now restin’ at a more manageable pace. why thank you, he mouths, stupid dreary grin on his face, mismatched lips stuck in place now that he’s forgotten how to get through this with a grasp on all his braincells, and it seems he could’ve made a worse choice, only hopes shigaraki ain’t squeamish. 

would be fun to explore that, actually, kinda ironic for someone like him to gag at the sight ‘n lovely scent of fuckin’ blood. they’ve had worse. maybe. possibly. eh… 

dabi shifts, slightly less uncomfortable but still, sadly so, a little apprehended. his choices are rarely sane, and this one seemed… one of the less sound decisions. 

                          ❝ hurts right…. here. ❞    he lifts his shirt; white cotton already stained and ugly, which annoys him more than the amount of blood on his fingers,    ❝ patch me up, doc. ❞

Dabi now seems to relax, and that in itself offers some comfort, although, his hands still tremble, wondering at the possibilities. Death is his game isn’t it? He starts to hope the opposite and it starts to itch. An instinctual scratch at the neck where the skin’s patchy from the same action done time and time again.

He looks at the gash on the side. Oof- Tomura bites his lips thinking about being in the same situation, having to get stitches. He hates stitches. Mustn’t be pleasant here either.

Still, he picks up some gauze first. It’s purely instinct it’s not like he knew anything about healing. And it’s then that he misses Kurogiri, deep inside his soul, before it melts in with the other amorphous longings for other people now dead. Gauze is pressed to the wound with the full weight of his palm, little finger kept off at all times. Seems the bleeding ain’t that bad.

He should disinfect next right? It had to be the clear plastic bottle. He picks it up with two fingers and shows it to Dabi as if to warn him non-verbally, then pushes the cap off and squirts the liquid right in that bloody gash.

He can’t say if he’d love to see this lover of his wince. Perhaps he’d even find it sexy.

So now that’s done he looks around the kit and grimaces. He doesn’t want to attempt actual needle and thread stitches, but-

“yeah, clearly, y’do. that doesn’t mean it’s important.” he may shut up now. tomura’s got the right to be quiet, for touya’s sake.

“until i fill you up, obviously. don’t care much if you cum.” Dabi dares to grin at him, fakes a kiss that’s a simple hint of the motion. least it made a pretty little sound.

mh, nah, now this won’t do… Dabi doesn’t allow him to just lay there and take his cock when Shigaraki could do so so much better; and they both know he runs his tongue just as daring if given the opportunity.

“c'mon, pretty boy,” pace lessens, rhythm opting for slow and kind and fucking gentle while Dabi reaches for his friend’s wrists, “at least look at me while i fuck you.”

he sure was stupid for assuming Shigaraki cared about him more than he does about how his dick felt inside him, really, but… can he help it?

he pins those pretty pretty hands above Shigaraki’s head, caught a couple strands of pale white hair in the wake of their connected limbs; and picks up, once more, with loving rolls of his hips to squeeze the most out of him. moans do tumble freely, no shame attached to the sound he makes with fever, in sheer bliss and marvelling at their connection; as fragile as it was.

“hah… ah, fuck, baby… y'feel so…” lips attach to Shigaraki’s ear, hot breath fanning against and into him, sharing what Dabi knows of his own likes to hear his partner moan so filthy, let it connect with the sound of skin slamming ceaselessly against skin. “mmm, so fuckin’ good…”

“HAh!“ Tomura’s not entirely sure if that exclamation was one of delight at the prospect of being sent into orbit by one or several orgasms, or the fact that he was well on his way to one currently. “I like a challenge-” he gasps between thrusts as voice hitches with each peak of the cock in his ass.

“you should know that best, hm? ... hmmm-“ that last one’s a moan and it comes with what he’s hoping is an enticing, lewd wriggle of his body underneath Dabi’s.

And like clockwork, with that beautiful demand of his for Tomura to look him as he’s getting wrecked, Tomura obliges: pins the other with a dedicated, boring look, hoping that it’s noticed for all it’s intensity. Because he sure as hell is enjoying what he’s seeing from down here, hands out of reach of harm, clasped onto themselves, curled into fits, taking in Dabi’s sweating, flushed body and keen eyes. He’s fucked him before, boy’s got it in him to make the night memorable and empty the brain.

He can still feel the sting of the busted lip, a single trickle of warm blood wetting the side his chin. He wants that taste back in his mouth and rushes up to kiss and chew Dabi’s lips. He’s still moaning at the back of his throat with each rhythmic thrust and he can already feel the orgasm mount inside his navel.

Surprisingly, even to himself, Tomura squirms to try to prolong this initial release-