It’s sweltering for an autumn day in the office. Endeavor grunts at the heat pressing down on his body, insistent and distracting, rustling the few papers he’s managed to grasp onto in his haste. The new hero license laws are under discussion, and fire, by many pro heroes who are displeased about the early dispatchment of student interns into the workforce. Though much of their concern is voiced as a cry of abuse towards their younger colleagues, Endeavor is quite certain several new pros are simply angry at the possibility of newbies swiping past them in both villain count as well as popularity polls. In his own opinion, Shoto is an obvious win.
He has half a mind to sign off on his approval of the new deal today, but a certain irritation panting against his neck is making it awfully difficult to find his pen.
“Hawks,” Endeavor sighs, pinched eyes glancing over to the other, “hurry up and finish.”
“So mean!” Hawks whines, high and obnoxiously reedy. Droplets of sweat roll down his nape, soaking the soft feathers at the base of his wings. He gasps when Endeavor adjusts his seat, thrusting up just slightly, thighs shaking as they lift up his body yet again. The red marks of their last meeting dot his nude form, thin lines and bite marks corresponding against a splatter of bruises along his hips, in the shape of a familiar hand.
Endeavor pushes Hawks to the side, reaching for his pen, one hand running through the downy red feathers. The responsive shiver and gasp weighs heavier on his body.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to use me?” Hawks shuffles impossibly closer, nearly brushing nipples as he grins impishly. “Come on, Enji, use me like the slut I am.”
The legislation is ridiculously long for a proposition so simple. Endeavor sighs, flipping through the many conditional statements and qualifications detailed in the pages. It is rather difficult to see at all on a page over the tuft of Hawks’ hair and wings, and as such, Endeavor twists Hawks to the side and back for a better view.
The friction of Hawks bouncing on his lap is an easy distraction, pulling his eyes back up to the sight of beading sweat sliding along Hawks’ throat. Endeavor grunts, securing his fingers into the base of Hawks’ wings, and thrusting him onto the desk. Hawks moans, long, loud, eyes lidded and a smug smirk flickers onto his face.
“Finally, number one. Come on and fuck me already.” Hawks makes a pretty picture, arching his back, letting his wings splay out beneath him, turnt to his spine. Willing, eager, dick bouncing against his stomach as he legs squeezed around Endeavor’s waist. “I’m yours.”
“That’s great,” Endeavor mutters. Hawks gives a frustrated grunt, turning his head to the side, craning his neck back to give Endeavor a better glimpse. His hands pass Hawks head to grasp his ballpoint pen, marking along the pages.
“What do you think of the next generation?” Hawks huffs, legs tightening around Endeavor’s waist, thrusting against him. Lube and precum smear at Endeavor’s jacket and he frowns, peering over the papers to meet Hawks’ eyes. The younger of the two sticks out his tongue.
“They’re fine,” Hawks relents, sighing as he rolls his hips, a hand coming down to play with his balls, “certainly strong enough. Don’t know if they,” he pants, stroking along his dick, leaning upward to press a kiss at the back of Endeavor’s hand, “can really replace you though.”
“That’s not the point.” It is, in the far off future, the point. Still, Endeavor makes a note in the margin of the papers, about training, quirk evolution.
“Endeavor,” Hawks hisses, pressing himself flush against Endeavor’s cock, “please, if you don’t mind, fuck me already?” Hawks is an unbearable tightness, a constant reminder of how small he is against Endeavor. It would be so incredibly easy for Endeavor to place a hand around his waist and slam him against the table, driving his cock relentlessly into his hole.
He grunts, flipping a page. Hawks could shatter glass with his frustrated scream.
“Who wrote this?” Endeavor scoffs, nearly tearing a page from the force with which he pulls it. It’s an entire page of useless terms and conditions outlawing pre-existing hero laws, nothing more than filler text and a waste of his time. Hawks groans below him legs twitching as his wings come up to draw around Endeavor, cocooning him in red.
“Enji. Number one.” Sore, hoarse, irritation thrumming through his veins in the sharpness of his eyes. “Fuck me well or I will kick you out of this floor.” Endeavor’s mouth opens and is immediately snapped shut by a red feather pressed against his chin. Two more rip the paper from his hand, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, Hawks’ eyes alight with fury. “Well, number one?”
“Well,” Endeavor huffs, though his mouth crooks in amusement, “dont have much of a choice, do I?” His hands dig into Hawks proper, prying his ass open to better slot on his dick. Hawks moans, smile pulling at his mouth, arms coming to embrace Endeavor.
“Hey now,” he pants, pressing a kiss to Endeavor’s jaw, “I did a pretty good job warming you up, didn’t i?” He grunts as his hips rise and slap down against Endeavor, dick bobbing and flushed pretty, sighing as Endeavor raises a hand to comb through his wings. Gentle, always gentle, even know Hawks can snap a man in half and ruin two more in the second it takes the man to form a scream. Hawks sighs, letting Endeavor nip at his lips, pulling a hand up to trace the shell of his ear.
“Cock warmers don’t whine,” Endeavor corrects. His hands bounce Hawks against his hips, red feathers brushing along his arms, his neck, tickling, wanting. He kisses one, feeling Hawks tremor around him, before pulling Hawks closer to his chest.
“Well,” Hawks’ eyes are lidded, warm, and he moans as he brushes his dick along Endeavor’s stomach, hand pressing against the head of his dick, “good thing I’m not just your cock warmer.”
Amusement flickers on Endeavor’s face, quickly followed by arousal, groaning as Hawks pitches himself further up, just hovering with the entrance of his hole over Endeavor, before slamming his hips down. They shout, Hawks clenching tight around him as his thighs quiver, Endeavor’s hands warm as they palm at his waist, his chest, cupping his chin before drawing him into a kiss.
“Hah, nn, Enji!” Hawks cums first, unsurprisingly, warm and wet and needy from playing with himself on Endeavor for the last hour. He squeezes tight, pupils blown and eyes hazy, as Endeavor grips his body against the desk and pounds into him, relentless. A hand settles into his feather, drawing out a shrill shout, pinching and pulling and folding the sensitive wings until Hawks is trembling, gasping out from the beginning edges of overstimulation.
Endeavor peals himself off Hawks, grunting, feeling the ruined cum-stained blazer and throwing it off. He palms his cock, pulling, twisting his hand along his head, aiming at Hawks’ gaping hole. He loves this the most, fucking Hawks well and truly, and shooting his cum into his stretched out anus, just to see it drip and dribble out.
“Come on, Enji,” Hawks pants, his hands trailing down to pull at his hole. Endeavor shakes, a hand grappling with his balls, as Hawks hooks his fingers in to give him a full view. “Fill me up. Cock warmer, remember?” A red feather floats over to ghost his dick and then Endeavor’s shouting, cumming hard against Hawks’ hole. Hawks moans, grinning, feeling familiar wet warmth splatter inside of him. He enjoys many things about sex with Enji, the sudden gentleness a pleasant surprise, but few things beat the reminder that he is well and truly owned by the number one hero.
Endeavor comes down with a series of pants, steadying himself against the table. Hawks peers up at him, unbearably smug, prompting Endeavor to sigh before leaning in and kissing at those quirked lips. All these years as the hardest hero around, and here he is, indulging a true brat of a number two.
“Go again?” Hawks moans, hands crooking against Endeavor’s ruined shirt, see through with sweat. He peers at Endeavor through lidded eyes, wriggling his ass up. Endeavor looks at him, at the cum leaking out of his hole, and back to Hawks.
He takes a step back, watching. Hawks squeaks, his hands moving at the air, mouth twisted in confusion. Awfully endearing for a man insistent on bothering Endeavor during his work. Speaking of,
“I have work to do,” he reminds Hawks, pointing to the stack of papers left on his desk. Hawks groans, relenting, falling onto his back.
“Fine, fine, old man,” his eyes peer up, a grin slotting back onto his face. “Say, I heard I make a pretty good cock warmer.”