"I think that I want to break-up with Endeavor."
Toshinori closes his book, using his index finger to mark his page, and offers Hawks a blank stare. The wing hero is stretched out across his desk, watching cat videos on YouTube... He seems so calm, idly swinging his legs back and forth as an adorable calico kitten runs in circles, chasing after its own tail, that Toshinori is half-certain he misheard him. "If you're looking for relationship advice, you're barking up the wrong tree. Shouta-kun still won't talk to me, thanks to that little stunt you pulled."
"Mmm... that's a real shame. You two would've been cute together." Hawks doesn't seem particularly apologetic. Toshinori is tempted to point this out, but before he can, the younger man lets out a long-suffering sigh, tossing the phone to the side and contorting his body into an upright position. "I was really pulling for you two." He purrs, the corner of his mouth twitching in the beginnings of a smile as he rests one boot-clad foot on Toshinori's crotch, applying just the barest hint of pressure...
The retired hero gapes like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth several times in rapid succession, before spluttering, "W-Why do you want to break-up with Endeavor? You two seem so—hngh, fuck... y-your foot—g-good for eachother." He knows that this is bad. They're in the middle of the teacher's lounge—the exact same spot where Shouta had stumbled across them three weeks earlier—for crying out loud! But he cannot deny that that foot feels nice.
"Shouldn't you be stopping me, All Might-san?" Hawks purrs, rotating his foot in a slow, lazy circle. A dark blush works its way up the retired hero's neck, but he makes no move to push the offending foot away. Interesting. "Wouldn't it just shatter your precious little omega's heart to catch you in such an intimate embrace with another man? That door doesn't lock, you know."
"He..." Toshinori lowers his eyes, trying to look anywhere but at the smaller omega's radiant face. "He's not mine. We haven't... We've, ah, kissed once or twice, but..." the pressure on his groin eases as Hawks glides off of the edge of Toshinori's desk with an almost feline grace, his legs slipping through the holes in the armrests on Toshinori's desk chair as he comes to settle on the taller man's lap. "B-But now... it's like talking to a brick wall. Before all of this," he makes a vague motion with his hand, "he could be c-cold, even detached, but... at least h-he'd acknowledge me."
Hawks curls a finger beneath the knot of his tie, loosening it ever so slightly, "Aww. It sounds like someone's in desperate need of some attention." He smile turns predatory as he bats long, dark lashes at the older man, "It's not really cheating if he was never yours to begin with, right?" Sharp, angular hips roll in a slow, lazy circle as honey-sweet words fall from the tip of his tongue.
Toshinori's electric blue tie slides between Hawks' fingers like water, gathering in a small pile of wrinkling silk on the floor by Toshinori's feet. Long, thin fingers, adorned with silver slowly, methodically work open the buttons on his soft, white dress shirt, revealing miles of pale, ruined skin to the younger man's hungering amber eyes. As soon as the buttons are completely undone, he's shoving the shirt and jacket off his shoulders, anxious to bare as much of the retired hero as he can in the shortest time possible. He grows visibly frustrated with the fabric about midway down Toshinori's arms, and abandons his task in favor of hooking leanly muscular arms around Toshinori's neck and drawing the older man down into a messy kiss that is all teeth and tongues and heat. A second later, he feels Toshinori's bone thin arms curling around his waist—
Those massive hands cup his ass, kneading the muscle firmly through the various layers of fabric which separate them. The seat of Hawks' trousers are already soaked in slick, the light brown material stained almost black and slightly tacky to the touch. Hawks writhes in his arms, breaking the kiss just long enough to take a few frantic gulps of air and to toss his jacket somewhere (Toshinori vaguely registers a crash, and has just enough presence of mind to hope that Hawks hasn't broken anything too expensive—), before capturing his lips again, dragging his teeth over Toshinori's plump bottom lip, suckling on the sugary-sweet flesh until it's certain to form a delightful red-purple bruise... He's grinding against Toshinori with such abandon that Toshinori fears for the integrity of the chair.
A small hand encloses around one of Toshinori's skeletal wrists, guiding it into the waistband of his pants. The wing hero can barely contain a snicker at the way Toshinori's entire body tenses when those long, calloused fingers finally come in contact with his slick-drenched hole. His pupils dilate, almost completely eclipsing the sky-blue of his iris, his nostrils flaring as the room is swallowed in the scent of horny omega. The poor alpha is practically swooning. Toshinori's heard stories about younger omegas being able to produce a literal fountain of slick, even outside of their heat cycle, but fuck, he'd never thought he'd get the chance to see it in action. It's an increasingly rare phenomenon, as it means that the omega isn't actively taking suppressants. Which means... he blinks, the haze of pleasure lifting just long enough for him to process that this is a really bad idea.
"Tell me, All Might-san," Hawks breaks their kiss, lapping up the thin trail of saliva which connects their mouths. A long, thin finger teases at the puffiness of his rim, occasionally sinking inside of his heat to the first knuckle, "when was the last time that you had an omega drooling on that fat knot of yours...?"
Toshinori's blush returns full-force, his breath catching in his one semi-functional lung as he spits out, "I, err... about that... I haven't actually, you know..." Hawks' fingers are already tugging at his belt buckle, and there is a sharp clack when the thin strip of dark-brown leather joins the myriad of other clothes on the ground. "I'm a... a v-virgin."
"Not for much longer." Hawks promises with a sort of easy confidence that has Toshinori's mind reeling. "Y'know, I was a virgin too, before I met Enji." He snorts, popping the button on Toshinori's mustard yellow slacks. "That didn't last long." Curling his fingers around the zipper, he tugs it down with an almost breathtaking slowness, "Nothing about that man is small, but goddamn, he's hiding a monster in that spandex bodysuit. But y'know what? I'd bet good money that you're even bigger..."
Hawks hand is unbearably hot as it slinks beneath the waistband of Toshinori's boxer briefs, long, thin fingers curling around the swell of his partially inflated knot. In one smooth motion, he frees Toshinori's straining cock from it's cloth prison, the older man's breath catching as the sensitive flesh is exposed to the slight chill in the air. A steady stream of pre is oozing from the soaking wet tip, and Hawks uses this as makeshift lube, setting a slow, steady pace... Toshinori presses a finger into Hawks' tight channel, the hot, syrupy-sweet slick ensuring that he's met with little to no resistance. Absently, he wonders what it would taste like, and is half-tempted to splay Hawks out on his desk, spread those gloriously muscular legs as far as he dares, and bury his tongue as deep into that spasming heat as he's able...
Hawks pumps his cock with a slow, easy confidence, words spilling over his pretty, kiss-swollen lips that must register somewhere in Toshinori's pleasure hazed mind. He knows that it's just a handjob, but fuck, it feels so different than when he rubs one out himself, huddled beneath the hot spray of the shower, lust-drunk on the memory of Shouta's warm hands on his skin. His fluttering blue eyes focus in on the messy mating scar on Hawks' neck. The scar is a deep, angry red, and the skin a bit warm to the touch, as if the bite were freshly healing. Speaking of which, the only reason that Hawks is here now, in the UA teacher's lounge, is because he's supposed to be picking up his daughter. Even if Hawks is right and he isn't cheating on Shouta, Hawks is definitely cheating on Endeavor. But... why?
The wing hero prompts him to slide another finger inside of his tight, wet heat, demonstrating how to scissor them to best prepare him for his cock. "I like a little burn as much as the next guy, but you're gonna have to prep me with more than just one finger if you think that's gonna fit." He gives Toshinori's leaking cock an appreciative squeeze, drawing a delicious, full-body shudder from the older man.
"Y-You never answered my question, H-Hawks." Toshinori inhales shakily, doing his damndest to knot rut into that hand and pop a knot early. "W-Why... Why're you cheating on E-Endeavor?" Hawks wrinkles his nose in distaste over Toshinori's choice in words; nonetheless, he continues to tug at the older man's cock, rocking his hips back against the lithe fingers scissoring him wide. He eyes his cock appraisingly; he can usually take Enji with three fingers of prep, but Enji's fingers are decidedly thicker...
He huffs, "'Cause I told him something, and he took it exactly as well as I anticipated he would, so I decided to take a permanent vacation from our relationship and fuck his mortal enemy. Sound good to you?" He asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He's not actually concerned with Toshinori's approval. So long as the older man is consenting, his hands are clean.
Toshinori stares at him dumbly, "That man worships the ground that you walk on. You could tell him that you killed a man, and he'd help you hide the body." Toshinori misses the way that Hawks' body tenses at the mention of 'killing someone', instead taking the opportunity to ease a third finger inside of him, reveling in the damn-near obscene squelch his fingers make as they fuck into that warm, wet, welcoming cavern.
Hawks rolls his eyes, his mounting frustration momentarily overwhelming the pleasurable warmth washing over him. "Let's just say that you don't need to worry about a condom, big guy." He purrs, unable to bite back a short burst of laughter when the comment soars right over Toshinori's head. He's really too innocent for his own good. And speaking of innocent...
The door to the teacher's lounge slides open, "Before you even start, Yagi-san, I'm not in the mood to talk. Whatever it is that you want, the answer is no—,"
"All Might-san!" Hawks chirps, his liquid amber eyes locking with Shouta's as he drags his tongue over his kiss-swollen bottom lip, "these pants are so tight. If you help me out of them, I'll be sure to give you a..." he dances his jewel-studded fingers up the broad expanse of Toshinori's chest, swooping down to whisper in his ear, "proper reward."
His lips curl into a smirk as he feels Toshinori's fingers withdraw. They aren't exactly in the best position to remove his pants, but they work with what they have, tugging the slick-soaked trousers down over the curve of his ass and working one leg free at a time so that that delightfully calloused hand can continue pumping his cock. The desk chair groans beneath their combined weight, Hawks balanced precariously atop Toshinori's lap as they shift about, but soon enough, his cock is free, thick and angry and drenched in slick and pre. Shouta's dark eyes are wide, the color rapidly draining from his already unhealthily pale face as Hawks lines his slick-soaked entrance with the fat, drooling head of Toshinori's cock, face contorting in absolute pleasure as he takes every inch of him in a single, smooth stroke.
"Eraser!" The excited exclamation melts into a long, overly dramaticized moan as the head of Toshinori's cock glides over his prostate, the slight swell of his partially-inflated knot tugging at his rim. "Long time no see! I was beginning to wonder when you were gonna join our little party here..." Oh fuck, it's been far too long since he's been split open on anything larger than a a standard vibrator and he's missed it, terribly—
"PAPA!" Keigo's eyes snap open—there is no better alarm clock than a child that has yet to learn the wonders of volume control—in time to see his daughter take a full running-leap at his defenseless body. Lord...
"Watch out for Papa's stomach!" He warns, somehow managing to catch her seconds before he received a knee to the abdomen. His daughter beams at him, throwing her little arms around his neck and burrowing down into his lap. He flops back onto the futon, the white hot fire that had been building in his belly smothered beneath an ocean's worth of ice water. Children, the ultimate mood killer. "Oof, you got me!"
"Guess what?" She offers him a bright, thousand-watt smile, and in that moment she looks so unlike either Enji or himself that it's hard to believe that she's their kid. He doesn't think that he's ever seen Enji smile like that before... fuck, he's not even sure that it's physically possible.
He pats her head, allowing his eyes to drift closed. It won't hurt to shut them, just for a few seconds. "Papa's not really in the mood for guessing games, Hinatori. He's tired."
"But we have a visitor." She whines. That catches Keigo's attention. They've been holed up in Keigo's 'bachelor pad' (read: the shithole apartment that he (kind of) kept stocked with food and other necessities in case of emergencies—like his asshat of a mate pissing him off to the point that he'd packed up everything, including the kid, while Enji spent his usual twenty-three hours a day at the office and hit the road without so much as a note) for almost a week and a half now without any problems, so what in the world...
"Hinatori, you know that you're not supposed to talk to strangers, let alone let them inside the house—," he looks her over with a slightly more critical eye, attempting to reassure himself that she is fine and in one piece.
Hinatori giggles, "But it's not a stranger, Papa. It's—,"
"Daddy." A much deeper voice finishes her sentence from over in the doorway.
Enji looks like shit. Keigo knows that he doesn't look much better. They've only been apart for a week and a half, and he's already so fucking thirsty he's having wet dreams starring Japan's resident golden boy—yuck. It's not that he has anything against All Might specifically, just... the man practically oozes Big Virgin Energy(TM). And while Keigo will be the first to admit that that's adorable, his kiss was so fucking tame that Keigo could taste the vanilla. And Keigo isn't about that life. Unfortunately, his hormones were not as kind as his rational mind, and after a week and a half of forced abstinence, fueled by a seemingly never-ending irritation toward his lover, his subconscious mind offered its take on the next best scenario: a proper dicking from a well-endowed alpha capable of knocking his own mate down a few pegs.
Hinatori scurries over to Enji, producing a picture that she'd made for him out of thin air. He can see the conflict warring in Enji's bright blue eyes as he carefully takes the picture from her little hand and inspects it. It's a drawing of their entire family, including Rei and Touya. Shouto would, on occasion, take Hinatori with him when he went to visit with his mother, and the little girl was just as smitten with her 'Auntie Rei-Rei' as Rei was with the little girl. They shielded her, in large part, from the mistakes of Enji's past (as Shouto had once explained, ice dripping from his tone, that this was not so much a kindness to Enji as it was the right thing to do by Hinatori—she deserved a chance to make up her own mind about their father) and that decision could, on occasion, lead to awkward moments like this... but then Enji cracks a small, hesitant smile.
He folds the paper carefully, tucking it into his suit jacket. "Thanks." He offers her a soft pat on the head, "We can... find a nice place to put it when we're back home, alright?" The kid is practically bubbling over with glee. Keigo is almost certain that this is the closest to actual praise he's ever seen Enji come. He wishes he had a camera, just to record the moment. "Now, I need to have a talk with Papa, so why don't you head on out to the living room and turn on your shows? I think it's about time for JoJo."
He isn't even able to fully finish the sentence before the kid is running—you didn't need to dangle the forbidden fruit that is JoJo's Bizarre Adventure in front of her twice. Enji shuts the door behind her, before focusing all of his attention on the fussy omega still tucked away in his futon. "I have nothing to say to you."
"That's fine." The red-haired man walks over to him slowly, for once devoid of his usual flame and fanfare. "I'll do enough talking for the both of us."
Well, isn't that an absolutely fucking terrifying premise? Still, Keigo remains stubbornly obstinate as Enji slides down onto the floor alongside his futon, brushing his blankets down just far enough so that he has uninhibited access to the other man's stomach. They stare at each other for a long moment, each waiting on the other to make the first move. Finally, Enji lays one tremendous palm on the flat expanse of skin, allowing it to linger there for just a moment before sliding down to curl around his hip. His thumb works in slow, steady circles along the sharp jut of his hip bone, his touch spreading a tantalizing warmth throughout Keigo's traitorous body... a fresh glob of slick oozes from his ass, soaking the seat of his sleep pants and oozing into the soft down of the futon. Enji's nose wrinkles when the scent of arousal hits him... but he makes no move to fix it.
Instead, he presses a soft kiss to Keigo's stomach, before resting his head on the smaller man's lap and allowing his bright blue eyes to flutter closed. "I said too much." Translation: I was a fucking asshole and I'm sorry. "Everything will work out." Translation: You were right and I was wrong. I was wrong, and I was an asshole... and did I mention that I was wrong? "Just... please, never leave like that again." Translation: ...
Keigo's brain actually short-circuits for a second, "Were you... Were you scared, Enji?"
The amount of heat in the man's glare could make the fires of hell seem tepid by comparison. "You've been on radio silence for a week and a half, Keigo. You haven't been showing up to work. None of your sidekicks knew where you were." And then, his voice gets eerily quiet, "And... you took Hinatori."
"You thought I left you." It's not a question.
"Didn't you?" Enji counters, one eyebrow raised. "Besides, to be perfectly honest, that's not where my mind went at first. I'd worried that you'd been hurt, or kidnapped, or some other horrible thing... but then I saw that you'd taken all your clothes and you'd made a massive withdrawal from our account and I... fucking shit, I promised myself that I wasn't going to fuck this up the second time around." He growls, his grip on Keigo's hip becoming almost bruisingly tight.
Keigo sighs, "You haven't fucked anything up beyond repair. Yet." He narrows his eyes at the older man in what he hopes is a vaguely intimidating gesture, "But I expect you to fucking grovel. Show me how sorry you are, you big lug." He spreads his legs just a bit, allowing the scent of his arousal to permeate the air. "I think that you should start," he murmurs, curling his fingers in Enji's fiery red mane and guiding his face between his legs, "by licking." He doesn't miss the way that Enji's pupils dilate, his tongue peeking out to wet soft, pink lips.
"So this is... nice..." Toshinori trails off uneasily. He could count the number of times that Shouta had spoken since they'd arrived at the restaurant on one hand, and not once had any of those clipped phrases been directed toward him. He's beginning to think that Operation: Wine and Dine should be scrapped for Operation: Screw It, I'm Not Above Begging. Hell, if Shouta keeps glaring at him like that, he might even get down on his knees.
Who knows? His salty little kitten might be into that sort of thing.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he cautiously approached Shouta following his fateful liplock with Hawks to ask him on a dinner date, but it certainly hadn't been for the raven-haired hero to look him up and down as he cautiously dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, eyebrows knotted and mouth twisted in a look of complete... anger? confusion? repulsion? He felt strangely confident in the fact that even Shouta had absolutely no idea what it was that he was feeling. He'd blinked a few times, dark eyes fixated on the back of his hand like he might find something there, before shrugging. While he had a myriad of #BetterThingsToDo, he might be able to work him in, sometime in the future. He'd promised to get back to him, before shoving past him to go 'wash his mouth out with a bar of soap'.
Toshinori had waited with baited breath for the day to arrive when Shouta's schedule was clear and he could show him just how much he meant to him. But as the days turned into weeks, he'd begun to grow less hopeful that he'd have his chance. There was always the chance that Shouta forgot (the omega had, on more than one occasion, gotten so wrapped up in work that he'd forgotten to eat anything more substantial than a protein gel pack for four days in a row). But Toshinori was becoming ever more convinced that it was much more likely that Shouta had just told him what he wanted to hear to buy himself a few precious moments of freedom without the blond breathing down his neck. But then, earlier that afternoon, Shouta had approached him, asking if he was ready to make good on that promise of a proper date and Toshinori had just about died.
"Cut the bullshit. You know that there's only one thing that I'm interested in." Shouta barks, and Toshinori just about chokes on his food—he wants to tell him that there's no need to be so aggressive, that he's attracting unneeded attention, but... something deep within those onyx eyes makes him bite his tongue. "Do you want to fuck Hawks?"
"What?!" Toshinori yells, only to immediately remember where they are and turn a violent shade of red. He grabs his water glass and takes a hurried, overly-large gulp that burns his chest. "I can assure you that I have never thought of Hawks in that way. What you walked in on the other day... I don't know what the hell that was, but he kissed me. I didn't... I wouldn't... fuck, Shou, I could never do that to you."
"Why did you let him scent you?" Shouta sneers, dark eyes piercing Toshinori to the core. He just looks so goddamn hurt.
"Fuck, have you seen the size of that man's wings, Shou? I challenge you to be in a room with him and not rub up on them somehow." That doesn't seem to be the answer that Shouta is looking for, but he hasn't doused him in his drink yet, so he considers that a small victory. He'll take them where he can get them.
"So... you didn't..." he swallows hard, looking positively pained at the thought of finishing that sentence.
"Shouta, the only person that I want to be with is—," he's interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. His body reacts before his brain can process what the fuck is happening, whipping off his coat to protect Shouta from the spray of glass... there's a sharp thunk as a body bounces off of their table, breaking Shouta's plate and sending food and various liquids flying everywhere, before rolling onto the ground.
The patrons stare in awe as what appears to be a hero clambers to her feet. "I-I'm... I'm okay! Just... fuck, what is this, the third floor?" Hazy eyes flicker over to the window, "Jesus Christ, that's... that's a big hole." She whips out her wallet from an invisible hidden pocket in her seemingly seamless spandex suit, "Um... let's see... yep, yep, yep, I definitely don't have enough to cover this."
At this point, it's pretty clear that the Universe is content for Yagi Toshinori to remain a virgin forever.