Spy Cam

Hawks plants a camera on Dabi to watch his link to the League. He’s hoping for some juicy information, maybe a conversation with Shigaraki about their next move.

It’s a tiny little pinhole camera planted on Dabi’s massive black jacket with just one pass of the hand, hard to find unless you know what you’re looking for. And apparently Dabi doesn’t...because the next real thing Hawks sees is the jacket being slung over what is probably a chair in a dingy room, and facing a scarce bed. Not dirty, though. Whatever he thinks about Dabi, the man apparently makes his bed and keeps his sheets clean. 

Hawks wonders if he’s in for a boring night until there’s the sound of a shower running, and after a while Dabi walks back into the room. Which, okay. Yes, there is an awful lot of water sluicing down a surprisingly well-muscled back, and his waist is so narrow it’s begging for a pair of thighs around it, but he’s a professional. He can deal.  

Until Dabi drops the towel.

Hawks sucks in a breath, watching with a pounding heart as Dabi lays on the bed, languid as a cat. He’s just...relaxing in the nude, which really isn’t that unusual, but Hawks wonders in a fluster if he should cut the feed. But what if something important happened? What if Dabi got a phone call, or revealed some diary where he kept all his secrets? Hawks is debating this when Dabi reaches for a battered old laptop, and pulls it onto the bed with him. 

Hawks has all of ten seconds hope that Dabi is going to do some work or even just watch a movie, and he’ll be able to get over the moderate awkwardness of the nudity because it’s literally his job to spy on people.   

Then moans start blaring through the tinny speakers (Dabi’s, not his own state-of-the-art tech), and oh yeah, he’s definitely watching porn. Hawks’ mouth goes dry as he notices Dabi’s dick twitch on screen, then slowly roll up from his hip to his stomach as it begins to harden. It was big before, but it starts to swell to a truly impressive size, and Hawks swallows as he spots the glint of metal along the underside.

Of course it’s pierced. Of course a man already covered in scars and staples and rings has a huge, pierced cock to go with it. He doesn’t even touch it at first; long fingers tease and tweak at his nipples, then his hands flatten and slide over the planes of his stomach. Apparently he’s very tactile, even when on his own, and he rubs up his thighs a few times—pale and so soft looking—before finally rubbing a fingertip over the head of his dick. He’s taking his time with it, but the noise he makes when his fist first closes around the length has Hawks’ thighs clamping together.  

Oh god no, he’s not supposed to...he’s supposed to be an impartial observer. But a few pumps have Dabi’s cock standing straight and proud, redder towards the tip and it gives a twitch that has Hawks’ sex pulsing in answer.

He can’t deny how wet he is, biting his lower lip to stifle a groan as Dabi rummages in the nightstand for a bottle of lube, then slicks his dick and starts working it faster. Why did he think this would be a good idea? Dabi’s moans, rough and grunting, start coming through over the noise of the porn and Hawks’ clit has never been so hard. He’s not supposed to, it’s wrong on so, so many levels, but he feels his hands inching towards the line of his belt. 

He tries to palm himself through his trousers like that would ever be enough, but Dabi takes his cock and slaps it against his palm and Hawks just breaks. If he’s going to hell, then dammit, he’s getting his kicks along the way. He pulls off one glove and stuffs it in his mouth as a gag—not that he thinks anyone will hear or bother him, but better safe than sorry. He tugs down his pants to bunch at his thighs, and his newly bared hand starts rubbing his clit through his leotard. Instantly frustrated, he holds it aside with his other hand and an impatient huff, eyes darting back to the screen as he starts to jack himself in tandem to Dabi’s own strokes. 

God, he wishes he could sit on a dick that fat...feel it stretching him to his very limit, those piercings scraping up against his insides and adding another layer of sensation. Dabi alternates between fucking into two of his tightly clenched fists, the head of his dick emerging from them with a lewd wet noise, and a one-handed grip while he pulls and tugs at a pierced nipple. Hawks imagines himself riding that, getting pounded by each hard upward stroke while he bends to suck and bite at one of those piercings. 

Would Dabi be rougher with him than he is with himself? Hawks hopes so, fervently, even as he moans into his glove and works his clit with three fingers. Before he cums, Dabi’s already loud moans get even noisier, eager and deep enough that Hawks is whining in answer on the other side of the screen. Then, all at once, his hips still and cum starts spurting out, thick white bursts that cover his knuckles and run down to drip off his piercings. It keeps going and Hawks actually drops the glove from his mouth as he watches Dabi coat his fist and inner thighs with his load. 

Dabi raises his fist to lick at the mess and Hawks is cumming too, writhing in his chair as his hips buck helplessly. For a long moment, everything is fire and dirty satisfaction, the knowledge that he probably just compromised every moral in the book and would be feeling guilty soon enough, when Dabi sighs and stands from the bed. He walks over to near where the coat is hanging, and bends down enough that his face can be viewed on camera and—oh god. He knows where the camera is. Before Hawks can even short-circuit properly, the villain gives him a smirk through the twisted scarring of his face.

 “Hope you liked the show, hero. That’ll teach you to be more fuckin’ subtle about planting cams on people. But if you just came as hard as I think you did, we should talk about more than just your spying techniques.”