#bvlletproof

gloves, glasses, and headphones had come off earlier --- they’re on the arm of the couch, sitting on his jacket. forgotten. hawks is fully dressed, overwise, having simply shed a few layers to become more relaxed (to allow some intimacy and trust to show in painted nails revealed, in real contact) and to avoid overheating while working. well. working is a loose term.  but it’s amusing to think about how the others think they are. that shigaraki is giving him a stern talking to after a comment earlier. that isn’t to say that he isn’t eagerly listening to anything that the younger man may have to say, in the moment. knees are over his shoulders --- feathers occasionally tickled but wings doing well to stay folded as he sits on the floor in front of the couch. it helps that they aren’t fully grown in but there are more than enough feathers to keep track of his beloved boss’ breathing, to relay him the fact that his heart is racing. there’s a partially gloved hand in his hair, a constant warning that makes every second exciting. tonight’s goal is to get it to pull, to make shigaraki be a little greedy. “you know i can do this all night, right?” spoken quietly, teasing. hands reach, cup where thighs become ass and his head bows to allow his tongue to slide up the line caused by folds. tempting. divine, in a sense. fitting --- with hawks on his knees, head buried between thighs. he prods again, this time enough to bring heat and a nub of metal over the other’s clit. he takes a few passes, hums loudly against heat and tastes, greedy. “how many times’re you gonna be able to last? two --- three times? you’re getting better. leveling up.” fangs glint at the gamer talk, at the playful poke at the other’s own vernacular. a naughty grin, one that only lasts a few moments before he’s licking again. he adjusts, goes further down and pushes his tongue inside --- deep and greedy. it’s unfair. a little cruel as hands hold hips in place and he fucks him with the muscle, as he moans out. muffled. mouth full. he does so until he’s gasping for breath, panting hot puffs of air as he frees one hand so two painted digits can push in where his tongue had been and crook. when his head lowers again, this time, it's so that he can latch onto tomura’s clit and suck. dizzy. greedy. worship, at its finest.