Up In Smoke

cw: consensual drug use, weed

Dabi gets Hawks high for the first time, and decides to do it by shotgunning him. It’s easier, really, Hawks doesn’t even have to figure out how to smoke a joint. Dabi sits him on the couch and Hawks is nervous and trying to hide it, but Dabi tells him to relax. All he needs to do is inhale.   

It’s easy, it’s not even as bad as booze, and he’ll probably only feel a little bit the first time anyway. No hangover, no risk of blacking out or anything like that. And he smiles that knowing, cunning smile, and cups Hawks’ chin, tilting it up. 

“I’m just gonna blow the smoke in your mouth, and all you have to do is breathe it in, ‘kay? Just be a good lil bird and take a deep breath for me through your nose and mouth.” Hawks coughs up a storm at first, but Dabi just laughs and pats him on the back.  

And his lips are surprisingly soft, or at least the top one is. Soft and warm and Hawks feels a haze starting to grip at him. It’s warm, like that peaceful sleepiness you feel after a long day, but he doesn’t actually want to sleep. Just melt against Dabi, because suddenly that seems like the best idea. To put his face in that broad chest and just relax for once. Dabi’s lips press to his over and over and at some point they just start kissing, Dabi’s tongue running over his and when has anything felt so good? His eyes pin wider and smaller, and his feathers ruffle, yearning to be touched.

He strokes a hand through Dabi’s hair—it’s dry from the dye, but again, softer than he expected.  Everything feels good in a lazy, tactile way, and Dabi’s hand touches his chest, making Hawks practically crawl into his lap. He wants. He wants and he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t, not when Dabi’s mouth is a searing line of heat along his throat. Hawks’ hands guide it to the crook of his shoulder, and he bucks his hips once. 

“Bite me—Bite me like you fuckin’ mean it.” And Dabi does. God, but the lance of pain is so much sharper for the sweet haze around his senses, and he knows the moan he lets out as Dabi’s teeth claim his throat is practically pornographic. 

Later, once they’re both good and high, the dry humping on the couch turns to Dabi laying Hawks back on his bed and eating him out lazily. He pauses to take another hit, exhaling the smoke in a steady puff that curls out of the scars on his cheeks, making him even eerier. Shouldn’t be hot, definitely fucking is. Hawks feels his sex clench, even as Dabi passes him the joint and he takes an obedient drag before setting it in the ashtray on the nightstand. Dabi smokes in bed a lot, apparently. Then he loses himself to the feeling of that hot mouth sucking eagerly at his clit.   

Dabi is muttering about how fucking good he tastes and how he wants to eat him like this forever, ‘cause his pussy is so tight and keeps dripping out wetness and trying to milk his tongue. Hawks just moans, spreading his thighs further. Then Dabi takes a few long minutes to mark the inside of Hawks’ thighs, a neat little row of bite marks trailing down either side while two fingers work him open and that thumb strokes at his hard, swollen clit until he feels so overwhelmed with sensation that he’s just laying there, saying Dabi’s name over and over, feeling the staples scraping at his skin a hundred times more strongly than normal. 

His own lazy hand plays with his chest, glad that he at least has partial feeling in it, and the other strokes through his own hair. He cums with a muffled little whimper and his whole body jolts with the kind of tremors he’s never experienced before, the ecstasy of it riding on his high and fading from his nerves more slowly. When he looks down between his legs, his eyes catch on a glint of metal, and he watches in boneless bliss as Dabi jerks off at the sight of him, hand loosely working over the huge, pierced cock until it drips a strand of precum, and Dabi hisses out a rough-voiced curse. The head is hot, almost too hot when Dabi swipes it through the sticky mess of cum in his folds, but there’s still too much pleasure bubbling in his veins to do anything but jerk and whine. Dabi moans in response, and moments later he’s spilling on Hawks’ sex, over the slick clit and onto his damp curls. 

He rubs it in, two fingers working a little into Hawks as he hums in satisfaction, and Hawks is too blissed to complain about it. They’ll clean up later, once he feels like moving again.