Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Hawks' personal assistant, you knew a lot about him.

You knew how much he loved chicken, which wasn't exactly confidential information. However, you knew which place he liked the most, which was a hole in the wall joint on the far end of town, owned by a lovely elderly couple, and not exactly easy to get to. Even now, almost two years later, you still weren't over the way his eyes would light up when he realized you had gone out of your way to get him not just food, but his favorite.

You knew that Hawks looked good in the color red. This wasn't particularly surprising, since he wore that color on his back in the form of twin, feathered wings, and had pierced his ears with rubies. It was a beautiful crimson shade to compliment his lightly tanned skin and bright blonde hair. However, in the case of your job, it was relevant to know what colors to pick when he needed to dress nice for an interview.

You knew that Hawks wasn't very fond of cars, partially because his wingspan didn't make it a comfortable experience. But, he also seemed to not do well in tight spaces, leading to the conclusion that he was a little claustrophobic, which you didn't press. Everyone, even heroes, had their limits, and there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, it seemed fitting for someone who could fly.

You knew that Hawks was a hard worker. It wasn't uncommon to see him pushing 30 hours without sleep, running on caffeine and spicy chicken legs. He didn't wear it on his face; but, he didn't take failure very well. Even if he didn't make it obvious, you saw him enough to recognize the subtlest gestures beneath the facade he wore: a carefree persona that faded behind closed doors.

While Hawks put on quite the performance for the media, being his assistant, you saw a side of him most didn't. He was quite humble, surprisingly, always paying you back for things you got for him, never running out of please's and thank you's, even though it was your job to attend to his needs.

Being a hero's personal assistant was very different from secretary roles you had in the past. One would think that a hero would be far more demanding than a high profile lawyer. But, Hawks didn't ask for ridiculous things or call you on your days off unless it was an emergency.

He didn't tell you to lie on his behalf or throw you under the bus, either.

He always gave thanks where it was due. It was your job, yes, but he appreciated good work, and knew how important it was to let people know they were doing well. The reports you wrote for detectives on his behalf were flawless, perfect grammar and all the right lingo. You handled the press startlingly well, especially when cases when south.

Hawks was high spirited, easy going and downright silly at times, but that didn't mean he didn't care. As you came to realize, it was just how he handled things, how he kept a grip on his emotions, and prevented others from digging in too deep. It was his way of making others feel safe, that he approached situations as if there was no real danger. It wasn't that different than Almight always entering the scene with a smile.

The relationship you had developed over the years was professional, mostly. Hawks wasn't the kind to rule with an iron fist. He trusted people to do their job without needing to be babysat, and got rid of them when they betrayed that trust.

After working for him for two years, it was inevitable something personal would rise up. Being let in on every horrifying detail to the kind of missions he took, multiple hospital visits and several car rides when he had exhausted too many feathers to fly safely.

It was how you learned so much about him, even miniscule things that probably wouldn't mean anything to anyone else. Hawks had let it slip that he admired heroes every since he could remember. He didn't say it; but, you knew, by his demeanor and agency affiliations, that he admired Endeavor the most.

Hawks wasn't one for watching TV, but loved to read, especially work on heroism and the impact it had on society. He liked classic rock and jazz, especially the indie stuff, and typically spent his money on up and rising musicians as opposed to big stars.

It was all stuff that the media would eat up. Sometimes, you wondered if Hawks did it on purpose to test you. You didn't keep it to yourself because he was your boss, but because you respected him. As a hero, or as a friend, maybe a bit of both.

Perhaps it was idolization, considering he was a top ranking hero. Maybe, it was respect for how persevering he was. Or, perhaps, you were secretly crushing on the young hero, struggling to resist his charming smile and beautiful, avian eyes. But, whatever the reason, you found yourself constantly going above and beyond for Hawks.

Today was another one of those days.

He had called you on a sunny Saturday morning. It was around 8AM and you were still in bed, huddled up in the blankets with the blinds closed because you had failed to get any proper sleep the night prior.

It was a bad time. You weren't yourself, and needed the weekend to unwind. He wasn't insistent, and even gave you multiple opportunities to decline, ever so patient and sweet on the phone; yet, you didn't decline.

Besides, he said it was just a few hours... You could handle that.

The agency was never packed, not even on the weekdays. Hawks had a busy schedule and a lot of missions to go around. He wings to the sky than being cooped up at the office, and hired heroes with the same go-getter attitude. You anticipated a quiet afternoon and then could scuttle home.

However, much to your dismay, Hawks was there when you arrived. He had likely worked all throughout the night, considering the grease in his hair and indents on his face, left by his visor. Even with the slight smell of sweat lingering on his skin, Hawks still smelt good. Or, maybe, it was your muddled thoughts.

You sank into your desk chair like it was a puddle of slime, trying to hold back a flinch when he walked by, overwhelmed with the irrational thought that he was going to lash out at you.

Even though he wasn't particularly loud, you jolted a little when he suddenly started talking.

"Thanks for coming in. Can you look over this case file and let me know if I missed anything?" he asked, stepping away for a moment to retrieve something from the filing cabinet, most likely the police report.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your positioning, forcing yourself to sit upright in your chair.

"I told the commissioner to give it a rest, but you know how they-"

You blinked carefully and tilted your head to look up at Hawks, realizing he had stopped talking when he turned around and looked at your face.

You were well aware of the bags under your eyes and the dark tint on your eyelids from a night of crying. Your nose was probably a little swollen, too; but, you had managed enough makeup to make the redness less obvious. Hawks would likely just think you were hung over. That's what a normal person would think.

Startling you a little, Hawks tossed the folder onto the desk in front of you and suddenly zipped away, boots skidding along the tiled floor as he trotted quickly across the hall. You watched his retreating back, wondering if you had grossed him out.

Geez. You knew Hawks was dramatic, but still.

Instead of waiting for him to return, you opened the folder and began scanning the document. You read the first paragraph once and immediately forgot it. Of course, you were experienced enough to know it was the summary set by the case worker, and should have been easy to follow. You tried again and realized you were reading, yes, but not actually absorbing any of the words.

You set the document down and leaned back in your chair with a loud huff, reaching up to your face with trembling hands.

"Come on," you thought to yourself, patting your cheeks gently. "This is the best job you've ever had. Don't fuck it up over-"

Hawks returned, his boots noisy against the tiles as he approached. You saw the gold trim of his jumpsuit and then his extending arm. He offered you a bottle of green tea, which you didn't even think to reject, as if it was a perfectly natural thing. It was chilled with just a bit of sugar, and refreshing as you sipped it obediently.

The winged hero knelt down onto his haunches by your chair and watched you drink it. His hand dipped into the curve of your inner elbow, gloveless, you realized immediately. His palm was big and warm, fingers long. He definitely could encase your entire arm in one hand. You stopped drinking halfway and hiccupped, realizing you were on the verge of tears.

Oh no-

"You did really good," Hawks whispered, his voice a tone you had never heard before.

What-

"Finish that. Okay? For me?" he continued, hoarser than he had been a second ago, soothing and gentle, almost pleading.

But why-

You didn't hesitate to do as he asked, finding it startlingly rejuvenating; deliriously, you realized it wasn't just the drink making you feel that way. Hawks immediately took the empty, plastic bottle from your hand when you finished, his other hand still cupped around your arm. He set it down on the floor in a hurry.

"It's okay. You're safe. Take a deep breath for me," he continued, his voice low in a whisper, rumbling from his throat.

Again, you found yourself obeying without a second thought, hands clawing at the fabric of your pants where they covered your lap. Your eyes squeezed shut as you breathed in and out, deep and slow, like he asked.

"You did so good," he uttered again in that melodic voice

You felt Hawks' hand release your inner elbow. His palm slid down your wrist and curled over your hand to gently remove it from where it was clutched tightly in your lap. He squeezed at your fingers, drawing them between his larger digits, and you finally realized-

-he was giving you after care.

You gasped, embarrassingly loudly, and whipped your head towards him, eyes flying open. Shame was written all across your face, from your parted lips and wide eyes, gawking at the soft expression across Hawks' handsome face.

"Oh my god," you wheezed, ripping your hand away from his to clutch it against your chest.

You lowered your head in a shameful bow, until your hair covered your face. "I'm so sorry, Hawks. I-"

"No," he answered, firmly, cutting you off. "It's not your fault."

"L-look, I j-just drank too mu-" you explained in a haste.

"Your dom let you drop," he corrected you. His statement was accusatory and frightening in tone.

You didn't dare lift your head and look at him, trembling with embarrassment. A normal person would have assumed you were hungover or maybe sick. The implication that Hawks participated was a lost thought. You were too busy hounding yourself over letting your boss of all people find out.

"You did nothing wrong," he continued, voice fierce and clearly angry. Yet, there was some restraint, making it evident he wasn't mad at you. "No one - no matter what - should ever leave you like this. I'm sorry for crossing a boundary, but-"

You whipped your head up and immediately locked with Hawks' bright gold eyes. He looked angry, but also sad, his brow lowered and his lips tight. His visor was propped up on his forehead and his headphones were around his neck, reminding you that this was indeed the same happy-go-lucky man you knew, had worked for for years. Yet, there was something in his eyes you had never seen before.

"You didn't - I - I shouldn't have come in like this. I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to-" you stammered away, struggling to maintain contact with his patient eyes.

He didn't have to. Of course not. Yet, the winged hero, your boss, your friend, had this look in his eyes like he most certainly did. Out of obligation or kindness, you couldn't quite tell.

"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong," he repeated, firmly.

Maybe you hadn't. You couldn't really contest that. The scene didn't end well. It happened sometimes, and not all doms handled failure very well. You had left without receiving aftercare, figuring you would be fine. This was what you had signed up for, wasn't it?

"Do you feel better?" he asked, directing the conversation back to his intention.

"Yes," you answered softly. "I feel better. I'm so-"

"Stop apologizing," he scolded, gently, but firmly. "What happened wasn't your fault. I don't care if you were the worst fucking sub in the world, you don't skip aftercare, ever."

"How did you even know?" you dared to ask, dragging your dominant hand across your eyes as if to stop yourself from crying before it even began.

The winged hero huffed out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a quiet laugh. "The background check you consented to for the job included a credit check, your purchase history is on that. Seven is discreet, but..."

Hawks trailed off, and it became obvious. Seven always appeared discreet on credit card statements. Along with their lesser known sex toys, the company owned clothing lines and bath products. If he knew, then that was because-

-he shopped there, too.

The fact that he had imposed on you seemed to shadow in comparison to what he had just admitted to you. Hawks was a hero. His image secured his position at number 2 and ensured police agencies called. What you did behind closed doors didn't matter. But Hawks...

When you peered at him again, said hero was still kneeling by your chair, wings curled elegantly at his back, sticking out at either side of him at the bend. He had a sort of all-knowing smile on his face, like he couldn't hold it in. It wasn't judgmental or teasing. Rather, it was obvious he was well aware that he had just confessed something about less-than-stellar about himself to his assistant.

"I'm sorry for finding out about your - well-" you offered him with a sad smile.

"It's alright; but, I know how you can make it up to me," he suggested, smile fading.

Your smile faded, as well, briefly fearful that he would bring up the very detailed and threatening nondisclosure agreement you had signed. Surely, after all this time, he wouldn't think that you would betray him?

"Stop seeing that dom," was what Hawks said. It was firm, a demand, not a suggestion.

You swallowed, teeth clenched and eyes nervous. To try and find a new dom was frightening. Even if he wasn't perfect, you had been together for awhile now and knew each other's desires well.

But, it had gotten to the point that the sessions were cutting into your real life. If Hawks was anyone else, he would have fired you for letting such a thing interfere with work. This second chance had nothing to do with partaking himself; this was out of kindness.

"O-okay," you replied hoarsely. Fearing he wouldn't take that seriously, you added on immediately, "I understand. Thank you, Hawks. Can we - can we work on this?"

He blinked, and the dark expression was gone as if it had never been there in the first place.

"Are you sure? You can go home," he offered.

"No. I need the distraction," you retorted, somewhat firm and somewhat pleading.

He stood up and leaned against your desk in the same way he had many times before, replying, "okay", and suddenly, everything was back to normal.

At least, it should have been; but, you were struggling to get that look on his face and tone in his voice out of your mind.

He was your boss-

-and you didn't even know what he liked.

Besides, he was just being nice and you were vulnerable.

It meant nothing.

Chapter Text

'You did so good.'

All weekend, that simple phrase, uttered in a voice you didn't know Hawks was capable of making, haunted you. Over and over again, your mind echoed what he had said, as if there was something substantial to an act of kindness to get you out of a bad headspace. You tried not to dwell on it, but it seemed impossible to let go.

He hadn't touched you much in that moment; yet, you could still feel where his hand slid down your arm, as if he had left an invisible burn. It felt comforting, which was exactly what his intentions were. He didn't mean for it to linger.

Perhaps, most concerning, was how effective he was, for such a brief interaction that hardly could count as proper aftercare. You didn't toss and turn in bed in that night. Rather, as soon as you hit the sheets, you slept like a baby, and woke feeling at ease.

You finished the report the following morning and received a very simple email reading, 'good job', from Hawks. It was no different from any praising email he had sent before; but, it felt different now. It made you feel giddy with pride.

The following week, Hawks wasn't around much, which was more normal than him actively being in the office. Simple tasks, that you did everyday, as expected, were suddenly acknowledged with 'well done' instead of 'thanks'.

Again, you tried not to dwell on it. Surely, you were just fueling an overactive imagination. Hawks was very handsome and charming; it was easy to become smitten with him. You just needed to keep your wits about you and remember your place. He didn't make a big deal about what happened and you shouldn't either... regardless of how unconventional it was.

The week ended normally, the weekend blew by, and another week began, business as usual.

Wednesday rolled around, and Hawks was in for a meeting with a few members of the Hero Commission. As always, he was wearing his hero costume: skin tight black and gold jumpsuit with the cream coat and baggy pants over the top, headphones draped over his neck and visor plastered to his face.

Hawks wasn't one for 'putting on a monkey show', as he liked to phrase it. He wore suites when he had to, which apparently wasn't very often when you were a successful hero. The affiliates they sent, older men in expensive suites, always gave him a look of disgust, but otherwise endured his antics.

If you were being honest, you always found that rebellious side of his quite charming. There was something alluring about the mischievous grin he gave them, like he just forgot they were coming and didn't pack a dry-cleaned suit.

Of course, he could have asked you to arrange that, and you would have put in the effort to make sure his tie was red - crimson, actually - like his feathers.

But, no, he didn't exactly put you in the loop on these surprise meetings, likely to prevent that very thing. Perhaps, it was a flex, and he just enjoyed flashing the power he had. After all, what were they going to tell the number 2 hero?

However, even with little warning, you still managed plenty of time to arrange him a well-assembled printout of all the numbers you could get your hands on. It was worth a little bit of panic to see an impressed look briefly cross his face.

Together, you walked side by side through the hallway towards the conference room. Hawks didn't seem to really be listening; but, you blabbered on anyway, knowing he typically displayed an aloof expression on purpose, so people would lower their guard.

He was crafty, that was certain; but, so were you.

"All the police records you helped with since their last meeting - since May - and I convinced 'H3roes' to give the stats for magazine sales in the last six months. It was more of a 'thank you' since last month's shoot went well; so, I don't think they'll give it out again," you explained, avoiding directly contact with Hawks' eyes.

Eventually, you ended up at the double doors leading to the conference room, and stopped talking as you came to a halt. Hawks took the printout you had assembled, gold eyes scanning the cliff notes on the front quickly. One of his feathers floated over and flipped his visor up and onto his forehead. You watched it curiously before blinking back down to his busy hands.

You knew full well that you were avoiding his eyes; but, you doubted Hawks would notice, which was a mistake. A gloved hand came into view and the first joint of his index finger curled beneath your chin and lifted your head up. Hawks wasn't a giant, but he was still taller than you, and there was something intimidating about those avian, gold eyes.

His hand didn't linger, immediately moving away from your face when he received eye contact. You managed to not make a sound, but you doubted you managed to avoid looking humbled by his gesture.

"Good work," Hawks praised, his bright tone not quite matching the look in his eyes. "This is really helpful."

"Just doing my job, Hawks," you replied, almost robotically, hoping he was oblivious to how nervous you felt.

He let out a brief, hoarse laugh. "Intimidating magazine publishers is your job?"

You huffed and pouted at the winged hero. "I didn't intimidate. I was polite... enough."

Hawks laughed a little louder this time, before immediately cutting himself off. "The editors said my assistant scared them. The lashing you gave them about how unprofessional they were with the scheduling really did a number. I think that was why they gave you the classified numbers."

"They should be scared," you stated boldly, crossing your arms.

"Oh," Hawks huffed, amused, but not disagreeing. "I'll keep that in mind."

The winged hero flashed you a smile before he ducked into the conference room, closing the doors behind him. You really wished he would have put more dramatic flare on his words, then you would have been able to recognize he was joking. Instead, the exchange had you trotting back to your desk almost awkwardly, cursing yourself for being so on edge over nothing.

Thursday was a stressful day, trying to make sense of Hawks' schedule to fit him into the fundraiser Best Jeanist was having in the upcoming months, while also trying to balance multiple media outlets demanding his attention after the massive drug heist he had pulled off the night before.

You didn't want to call your job 'hell', because working for Hawks really wasn't hell. But, he was a well sought after hero, and demanded a lot of attention. You didn't want to make a mistake that could potentially cause the hero issue, nor make his agency look bad. There was a lot of pride in being such a famous hero's assistant.

-and with great responsibility came great stress. But, at the moment, your outlet was on the back burner.

As if reading your thoughts, your phone suddenly vibrated where it rested at the edge of your desk. You reached for it, the brush of your finger causing the screen to light up. Your messages were hidden, but you could see who it was from. You didn't have to read it to know what he was going to ask, but unlocked your phone anyway.

'are you coming over tonight?' was what the text read, and you roughly swallowed the lump in your throat.

You wanted to. You really, really wanted to. The temptation was gnawing away at you: memories of how good it could feel, what it was like to forget who you were for just a little bit. Responsibilities melted away and all that mattered was your dom and the pleasure and pain they gave you.

It was hard to make sense of why it felt good to belong to someone, to be played with like a treasured object, tossed around like a toy, with just enough affection sprinkled in to feel desired, wanted, maybe even loved, even if it was artificial. It hadn't been the first time you were dropped, nor the worst. Sometimes, scenes didn't go well and not every dom could handle rejection.

After experiencing the shame of having your boss see you like that, there was no way you could risk going through the motions again.

Being a sub meant accepting the abuse that you wanted, and nothing you didn't. The writing was on the wall, but you had been denying that you needed to move on. It would take time, but you would find someone else, someone who wouldn't let you fall.

'No' you texted back.

He never replied and you finished your workday as expected and went home tired, and lonely, but not regretting.

You spent the weekend exercising, watching TV, having internal debates at the grocery store over what was worth buying.

At some point, while you were curled up on the couch in comfortable clothes and wrapped in a blanket, Hawks was on the news, with his stupid, handsome face covered in debris and his jacket ripped to shreds. He was too busy to pay attention to the reporter, who was desperately trying to shove her microphone in his face.

You recognized that determined look: a fierce glare, thick eyebrows knitted together, lips curled into a frown, jaw clenched. His wingspan was looking much smaller than normal, to an almost worrying degree. A building was collapsing as the result of pitiful infrastructure and nearby construction. He had likely sent off his feathers around the perimeter to look for civilians trapped inside.

At some point through the reporters ramblings, a small swarm of crimson feathers came flying in, whipping around to avoid colliding with the reporter and her camera crew, and returned to his wingspan. Without hesitation, Hawks took off into the air, before even all the feathers had joined him, so quickly that he became a blur of gold and red on the screen, and kicked up an almost violent gust of wind that nearly knocked the camera out of the crew member's hand.

You knew Hawks was meticulous and careful; that was no accident, and it had you choking down a laugh.

Normally, your first thought at seeing Hawks on the news was that you were going to have a report to write on Monday. If time allowed, you would get a head start on the weekend, maybe out of respect, or maybe because you liked the impressed look on his face when it was done before lunch.

It was different this time.

Your first thought was about the look in his eyes. You had seen that look many times before, when he was in the middle of a mission and didn't have time to entertain nosey reporters or rambling journalists.

But, now, it was different because you knew something about Hawks you hadn't before. He hadn't offered much details, only that he partook in one way or another.

Curled up on your couch, you thought about that expression aimed at you. It wasn't exactly a clear mental image, with an exact setting. But, as your imagination ran wild, you realized he was looking down at you, where you kneeled on the floor, and his gloved hand was cupping your jaw.

"Do you usually fantasy about heroes, or am I special?" he asked, condescending, like he was disgusted, maybe even a little amused.

It wasn't that fake disgust that had you harshly tearing yourself out of the fantasy, but the reporter on the TV shouting about how some of Hawks' sidekicks arrived and were trying to contain the damage before it spread into the surrounding streets.

Sharply, you remembered that Hawks was your boss. You had no right to be thinking about him like this. It would put him in an unpleasant situation, to not only have to reject his assistant, but probably even let her go, too, all because she couldn't suck it up and stay in her lane.

Besides, for all you knew, Hawks wasn't a dom.

But, despite the rejection you mentally handed yourself, you grabbed your remote, muted the TV, and let the fantasy continue. The solution was simple: don't tell him.

"Hawks-" you had answered.

Suddenly, his hand collided with your cheek in a light slap. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it left your skin stinging. Outside of your fantasy, your real self gasped on the couch, tingling all over at just the mere thought.

"That's not how you address me," he scolded you, firmly, but calmly. He didn't sound mad, but a little disappointed, and it had you trembling a hand down the front of your shorts.

You barely grazed your pearl, fingers heading straight for your entrance to find it slippery with wetness. Perhaps, the shame added to the arousal. The fact that Hawks was a pro hero and out of your league wasn't the issue. People all over Japan fantasized about him. It was because he was your boss. He trusted and respected you.

...and you-

-imagined him abusing you.

His slap had turned your head, or perhaps you jerked away in shock. Whatever the reason, now, his hand was cupping your jaw and turning your head back to face him, having to tilt your head back so you could look up at him.

As you imagined yourself on the floor, peering up at him, the real you began fingering yourself earnestly, surprised by the effortless glide and how aroused you were. You weren't touching yourself in your fantasy. Of course not; he would have punished you for that.

"I asked you a question," Hawks spoke in that voice again, firm and controlled.

"J-just you, sir," you responded, both in your fantasy and in real life where you leaned back on the couch, driving two digits in and out of your wet cunt.

"You're really pathetic, aren't you?" he suggested, or more so stated, his calm voice making it difficult to decipher how he felt. But, in your muddled thoughts, it sounded like a compliment.

"I gave you a tiny bit of praise and now you're desperate for me? A slutty wet mess."

"Yes, sir," you answered, without hesitation.

"Stand up," he suddenly ordered. You were barely to your feet before he barked another order, "turn around."

As you did, your real self was vaguely aware of the wet squelching noises your core produced as you pumped your fingers. You were now flat on your back on the couch. Your free arm had come up and was covering your eyes. Your head was tilted back, pressing into the couch cushions.

The fantasy continued. As soon as you turned around, Hawks pulled your arms back and gathered your wrists in one, large hand and pinned them against your lower back. You were roughly bent over something. Hawks kicked at your ankles with his boots, forcing your bare feet apart.

For a flickering second, you were at the agency, wearing that pencil skirt your mother bought you for Christmas, and Hawks was hiking it up and delivering a harsh slap to your rear at the realization that you weren't wearing underwear.

That thought faded quickly, and the scene changed. Suddenly, you were bent over the bed in Hawks room. You imagined it was dark, barely lit by a distant desk lamp, and his sheets were dark red, like his wings. He was fully clothed while you were nude, and he was wearing an expression like you had bothered

You were too pent up, too far along, to let his fantasy self play with you properly. Suddenly, the fingers on his free hand were drilling into your cunt at the same rate you were doing to yourself. Imagining him doing it had you crying out into the space in your living room.

You were close, and he would definitely notice.

"Ohhh. Princess is gonna come already?" he taunted, cooing at you softly.

Again, your real life self moaned out loud in response to the imaginary Hawks' words. You tried to be rough with yourself, like you imagined he would be, but it was difficult when it was your own fingers, at an angle that felt good but wasn't what he would be undoubtedly capable of.

In your fantasy, he was still holding your arms behind your back, looming over you territorially. His wings were sticking out and you could see the magnificent crimson feathers hovering overhead, almost threateningly. His head was cocked to the side to get a good look at your face.

"You're making such a mess, and it's just my fingers," he uttered. "You wanna be a cocksleeve that bad? Oh. Not just anyone's? Mine? Ahehehe."

It was his dry laughter, supplied by your memories from a conversation he had with a rotten police chief over the phone, that lit the fire in your core. It was the first time you really saw him pissed off, and he had apologized after the fact. But, now, you wanted him to take it back and show you again.

You jerked your wrist through your orgasm, spilling a mess over your knuckles. Your mind went blank for a second; but, as your orgasm waned, you thought about how Hawks would work you through it, call you names, tease you for being so easy for him.

The desire to run to your room, retrieve a dildo, and continue the fantasy had your head spinning. But, as you wiped your hand on your inner thigh and sat up, senses and strength returning, you caught a glimpse at the TV, and saw Hawks huddled together with some dusty sidekicks and civilians that looked distraught, but not hurt. His mouth was pulled into a tight grin, lips flapping as his gold eyes beamed at the camera, undoubtedly giving some heartfelt speech.

Well... time to write that damn report.

Chapter Text

Weeks bled on and you fed your fantasies, struggling to find the nerve to visit a BDSM club alone and seek out a new dom. Your previous ones had been friends of friends and even if you weren't direct that your lack of presence was due to a bad session, it didn't take a genius to come to that conclusion.

Bridges burned, but you weren't bitter about it. Even as stress piled on, and became an ever-present, churning storm in your head, it was nothing compared to what it felt like to drop, to have a dom turn you away in frustration, to walk home with skin burning and loud voices echoing in your mind.

You had tried to convince yourself that you had become too dependent on the sensation, too used to something fleeting. Your doms had only been that, after all, not boyfriends or partners with some sort of emotional attachment to you.

But still, you wanted to go under, to be lowered down by someone who wanted the opposing piece to your want, and be steadily lifted back up, to find a shared satisfaction in something carnal and indescribable.

Maybe, you could just try dating-

-but then, your phone went off, a calendar reminder for an important meeting, and the thought fluttered away as quickly as it came.

The cycle, unsurprisingly, began.

You would go home to an empty apartment, try not to focus on that, go to bed early, struggle to sleep, get up early, and march your way into the office with your head held high, authority like fire blazing at your heels.

You didn't need Hawks' approval to know you did well, as much as you enjoyed when he was around to give it. Everyone came to you, and you always had all the answers. You got things done, and your coworkers were intimidated enough to act like you were the boss, even though you most certainly weren't.

The weekends would be too long and too short at the same time, a brief distraction from the world that awaited outside that apartment. While the break was refreshing, it was equally devastating. It reminded you that you really were nothing without your job.

Thursday night, it was well past ten, and the place was eerily quiet, minus the clicking off your fingers over the buttons on your keyboard. You could hear the janitor wheeling their cart around in the distance as they made the rounds.

Some sidekicks on the night watch made a ruckus as they strolled by. You resisted the urge to scold them, seeing as it was late and they were still riding an adrenaline spike that you didn't want to ruin.

It got quiet again after that, and remained that way well into midnight, until-

"Why are you still here?"

He wasn't loud or harsh in tone; yet, you were wrung so violently from your focused thoughts that you jolted a little in your chair, rattling the wheels at the bottom.

You tore your hands away from the keyboard and turned your head to see a familiar figure leaning against the half-wall surrounding your cubicle. Hawks might have advertised himself as a Hawk, but he could have passed for an owl, too, considering how often he worked late into the night.

He looked as handsome as ever, headphones around his neck and visor propped up on his forehead. His head was turned a little, gold eyes taking you in inquisitively. The bridge of his nose was a little sunburnt and the ruby gemstones on his pierced lobes stood out dramatically against his blonde hair.

Quickly, you turned away from him, back to your computer screen, and tried to ignore the desires beginning to surface.

"Some of our HR staff took off, so I'm covering payroll approvals in their place," you explained, tone soft, but professional.

Your hands returned to your keyboard, anticipating he would be pleased with that answer. In the corner of your eye, you could spot the gold diamond on the center of his chest, indicating he hadn't moved.

"That can wait 'till morning," Hawks replied smoothly.

"It can't," you retorted gently. "Tomorrow, I'll be addressing the training room repairs and we have construction plans for the east wing. You wanted to take in more sideki-"

"-and then, payroll can be handled after that is addressed," Hawks interrupted you, his tone soft, but firm.

Your hands lifted off the keyboard and hovered an inch above. You flexed your fingers, trying not to let the piling tasks get the better of you, nor Hawks' worry over your well-being. Yet, you could feel something stinging at your eyes.

"I can get it done tonight. Besides, my afternoon is booked. The hero commission asked to meet with me to discuss budget restrictions. Of course, I'll have it all documented and a report ready for you by Mond-"

"You should'a told me. I would have taken it off your plate," Hawks argued, his tone polite and not the least bit combative, but clearly concerned.

Daring, you turned to face him, and managed to remain stone faced despite being met with Hawks' concerned expression. His brow was lowered, lips a straight line, forehead wrinkled. He had likely been busy lately, considering the stubble on his jaw was thicker than his usual grooming and he had a thin layer of blonde hairs dusting his jawline.

Hawks was a hero. His job was saving people and catching criminals. You were his assistant. Managing his agency and pencil pushing was your job.

"I can handle it," you declared. "This is my job, Hawks. Let me do it."

You saw his jaw twitch and Hawks suddenly jerked his head away. You followed his gaze and watched as he waited for the night custodian to leave the room. He turned his head back to you, gold eyes heavy with concern.

"You aren't sleeping," he stated.

"Huh?" you blurted, finding your mouth flapping open and shut dumbly as you sought out an explanation. "I'm sleeping fi-"

Hawks lifted his dominant hand to his own face and poked a glove hand at the top of his cheek. "Bags," he explained before lowing his hand back down.

"-and, ugh," Hawks blurted, pointing at your trash can. Piled up, disposable coffee cups were in there, more evidence to his claim.

Silently, you cursed the janitor for skipping your desk. Likely, you were still sitting there when they walked by, but still-

"Go home and rest," Hawks suggested, his charm subsided, and nothing but sincerity in his tone. "Take some sick days. You're always here. Seriously, the agency isn't gonna catch fire if you're gone sometimes."

You let out a deep sigh and mumbled lowly, "...alone time is the last thing I need."

A normal person wouldn't have heard you; however, Hawks' feathers picked up the soft sounds of your words and he translated the vibrations. Of course, you were well aware of the intricacies of his quirk, but remembered just a little too late.

Afraid of where this conversation would go, you hastily added on, "next week, I'll take off Friday - ugh, no, that won't work. The week after maybe? Ah - after the construction plans are approved. I don't want to risk them getting the financing wrong-..."

You trailed off when you realized that Hawks had crossed his arms. Your eyes shifted up his muscular chest and landed on his face, where he looked annoyed, of all things.

You tightened your lip, fearful of what that expression could mean. Was this the part where he fired you? It was possible you were just being paranoid, but-

But, then, suddenly, the expression vanished off Hawks' face and he looked away, mumbling out an embarrassed, "shit," while a gloved hand dragged over his chin.

"What?" you squeaked out, trying to make sense of what he was thinking.

"You - ah-" Hawks cut himself off and groaned quietly.

You stared at his pinched expression, which didn't last for too long before he softened and looked at you. Standing by your desk, where you were seated, he had to tilt his neck to look down.

"Is that why you do scenes? To destress?" he asked, curious gaze oddly soft despite such a dark-rooted question. "Have you not..."

"Oh - well, I haven't met someone yet," you replied softly.

It was an awkward situation, sure. But, clearly, Hawks was more embarrassed than you were. His hand was covering his mouth and his gold eyes were focused elsewhere, avoiding your gaze as you had done to him just a moment ago. He looked cute like that; but, you tried not to dwell on that thought.

His eyes flickered back to yours, a beautiful, golden stare in his avian gaze. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, like it was clawing away at the back of his teeth. His jaw was clenched tight and his lips were thin as he held it in.

You stared at him dumbly, not used to this side of Hawks. He was always so confident, so certain, even in situations that seemed outside of his comfort zone, even when the moment was dire and the odds weren't in his favor.

"What about me?" he offered.

"What about you?" you blurted dumbly.

Your first assumption was something else entirely. The obvious fact that he was offering to partner with you caught up with your brain barely a second after the words passed.

"O-oh - you - you want to - with me?" you squeaked. "I just - I didn't know you were offering - that was-"

Startling you a little, Hawks threw his head back and laughed, mouth wide open and shiny teeth on full display. His gloved hands clutched his stomach as he hollered. You stared at him, finding yourself chuckling along barely a second later.

He hunched over and gasped, trying to calm the laughter.

"Do I look that pathetic?" he eventually asked, dragging a hand down the back of his neck.

"No," you stated, glaring at him.

His eyes widened a little.

"I just - me?" you asked, finding your hands fumbling at your pants where they clung to your lap. "I don't think I-..."

You watched Hawks' calm gaze melt into soft frustration.

He was giving you whiplash; one second he was laughing and the next he was barely veiling his anger, emotions that were directed specifically at you. He didn't look away, just stared you down expecting an honest answer.

"I'm just... your assistant," you answered simply, finding it easy to swallow the reality of your life in comparison to his.

Hawks did photoshoots with models and worked with heroes, constantly surrounded by strong, beautiful people.

He could have anybody he wanted-

-but, he was looking at you like he was about to commit a crime.

You watched his glove hands move, one curling over his opposite shoulder while the other loosely curled over his hip, elbow sticking out, torso shifting like he was working kinks out of a sore and tender shoulder. He groaned quietly, eyes still locked with yours, surprisingly.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Hawks uttered, his brow lowering slightly, a challenging expression on his face.

It was obvious, even if it went unsaid: you didn't think you were good enough for him.

"The kind of women I like," Hawks explained, "are strong, independent. I like to break them."

You blinked slowly, absorbing his confession. You felt a tinge of arousal between your legs as Hawks stared you down, his eyes patient but firm as he waited for a response. You hadn't entirely fabricated it then, when you had imagined what kind of dom he was. He was just looking, testing the mood of such bold words, and it was smoldering.

You wanted him to break you.

"But, I'm-" you murmured.

"-fucking amazing," he interrupted you, his tone gentle, but fierce.

"Guess you don't see it, huh? My life got a lot easier when you showed up. I never have to worry about a thing because of you. I - shit - am I making you uncomfortable? I'm not trying to pressure y-"

"I'm not pressured," you interrupted him firmly, finding your voice a bit louder than it should have been.

"It's just - you're a pro hero and so attractive. It's intimidating, y'know?" you offered with a shift in your tone at a failed attempt to soften the discussion.

Hawks blinked, his lips parting and a fluster taking over as if he had never heard that before.

"Oh," he answered dumbly.

You tried to convince yourself that he was putting an act. Surely, he knew he was attractive? Even if he didn't have people telling him all day, in every magazine, he owned mirrors.

"You don't have to settle," you added on nervously.

"Settle?" he barked, sounding insulted. "Fuck, and here I was thinking that I was comin' across as desperate and you were gonna tell me to fuck off," Hawks admitted with a soft laugh.

Before you could even think to correct him, he asked, lowly, "what do you think I'm looking at?"

He was staring at you; and, you didn't know how to answer him. That hungry, dangerous look was back.

"I almost didn't hire you. How beautiful you are, I thought I'd make an ass of myself every day," was what came out of Hawks' mouth. You saw his lip curl into a teasing grin.

"You do!" you squealed, resisting the temptation to rise to your feet and smack him.

He was laughing again, with his mouth wide open, loud and imposing.

"See that? That snarky attitude. Makes me wanna-"

Hawks caught himself before he could finish, but the implication was already out there, and you were failing to hold back a blush. He had a fierce, wolfish look on his face; but, it faded quickly as he realized what he had just said.

"I-" he blurted.

"Haw-" you also blurted.

His mouth snapped shut, and the look on his face suggested he wasn't going to continue until you finished.

"It's not that I don't want to - with you - it's just..." you stammered, searching your mind for some viable excuse.

"I get it: me bein' your boss. Makes me a creep, huh?" he offered with a teasing tone intended to make light of the situation.

You weren't laughing, didn't even crack a smile.

"No," you answered firmly, clearly annoyed at his self-deprecation. "You're not a creep. I didn't think that, not for a second."

Hawks hummed, his gaze trailing away and that sheepish expression returning, like he couldn't face you after being validated so strongly. After weeks of only seeing him on TV, wearing a cocky smile with his shoulders high, it was nice to see the real him again: a little nervous, human.

"I can't compete with heroes," you offered.

"It's not like that," he groaned softly. "Usually, heroes are the only ones who... who get it."

"Oh," you mumbled, watching his gold eyes slowly return to you.

"I'm not gonna fire you for rejecting me. Would take me too fucking long to find a suitable replacement to do even half the job you do," he explained, sincerity heavy in his low tone.

"I don't want to reject you," you replied weakly, feeling your resolve crumble at the thought of Hawks making the walk of shame to his office.

"Because," you added on hastily, "I like you. Really. Just-... just, promise nothing will change?"

"Here? 'course not," he replied brightly, as if you weren't discussing the beginning of an obscene and highly inappropriate relationship with anyone, let alone your boss. However, you would be lying if you didn't admit, to at least yourself, that it added some excitement.

"It doesn't have to be anything but what it is," Hawks explained, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I don't date, anyway, and I'm sure I don't have to tell you to-"

"As if I want the media up my ass," you retorted boldly, reveling in the smirk that graced his face.

Anything but what it was... Two adults engaging in kinky sex. Not dating. No stress. No strings. That was doable. That was easy.

"Is..." Hawks trailed off and that uncertain expression returned, "saturday too soon? It's kinda my only free time for the next couple weeks, but-"

Excitement bubbled up and you blurted, "yes. I mean - not too soon - yes, let's-"

Nervous laughter rumbling out of the winged hero's chest had you cutting yourself off.

"You should head home for the night," he suggested. "Get some sleep."

Straightening your posture with a huff, you turned away from him and began clicking at your mouse again.

"Nothing is gonna change here, Hawks," you chastised him gently, reminding him of the agreement. You wanted to make it clear that your efforts around the office wouldn't change, either.

"Alright," he agreed in a low voice.

You didn't catch the look at his face before he retreated. You did, however, stare at his wings until he was out of sight, and wondered exactly what you had just agreed to. Yet, strangely, there was no uncertainty or worry, just bubbling anticipation.

Chapter Text

The address Hawks provided, in the form of a note left on your desk in his awful hand writing, wasn't too far from the agency. It was a nice place with security at the front, decorative window frames adorning the outside, and very tall.

Hawks' flat was, unsurprisingly, on the top floor.

When you stepped inside, and saw the balcony connected to the living room, it was easy to see him swooping in undetected, landing on the railing in the dead of night, shedding his clothes in a furry and collapsing on the couch with a dry exhale.

It was nice to imagine him doing something normal for a change, a break from hero work.

Today, however, he was standing in the short foyer to welcome you inside, black socks on his feet, dark wash jeans hugging his waist, and a light grey T-shirt over his chest. A brown, leather belt was looped through his pants and he was wearing a thick watch with a silver wing wrapped around the underside.

From a distance, you caught a faint whiff of his cologne, and could tell he had showered recently by the look of his soft, fluffy hair. He looked like he was about to go out on the town, not coop up in his apartment, and you almost felt bad about it.

But, some selfish part of you was happy to see him like this, prettied up for you.

"Take a look around," he encouraged, stepping aside to silently beckon you in.

The apartment was startlingly nice, with dark grey tiles, fancy rugs, and paintings decorating the walls. There was a large flatscreen across from a big couch with expensive-looking end tables on either side.

You tried not to overthink how unlived-in the place looked; but, it was impossible to miss. There was no clutter in the kitchen, no trash in the bins, no letters and magazines piled up on the console table by the entrance. There was a pair of sneakers by the front door, and that was about it; and, now, your shoes accompanied, resting next to his.

It was no secret that Hawks worked excessively. His sidekicks saw him every day of the week. Everyone on every shift, even late into the night, got to see him. He would often come into the office as your shift started, having pulled an all-nighter and ready to go out again.

He was a devoted hero, and you didn't try to deny that that aided in your attraction to him.

But, still, it was painful to see some of the consequences of that. You had lost count of how many times he looked pushed to the brink of exhaustion, running on coffee and not much else.

At least now, Hawks looked well-rested. Relaxed, however, not quite. There was a slight unease to his appearance, clearly nervous by your presence, and it made you feel less intimidated.

"Are you hungry or thirsty or anything?" he offered, dragging his dominant hand sheepishly over the back of his neck.

The crooked smile he made eased most of your worries. You set your bag down on one of the end tables by the couch and turned to face him properly. You were aware of how stiff you looked standing there, but wasn't yet ready to ease up.

"No," you answered softly.

On the way up the elevator, you had doubted this was really happening. The apartment entrance was decorated with nice furniture and the front desk attendant was kind, but assertive. You almost expected that Hawks wasn't going to be here, and this was some kind of prank. Maybe he would send you to some random man's house as a joke.

But, now, looking into his nervous, gold eyes, you could have slapped yourself for thinking something so cruel. Hawks was never anything but kind, and he clearly was as eager and nervous as you were.

This was just-

-a lot.

He was a lot. He was beautiful and extraordinary and you felt small and worthless next to him.

You could see the top bend of his wings behind his shoulders, the long ends sweeping behind his legs. He was wearing a necklace, a silver chain that was simple, yet looked rather elegant draped over his collar bone.

Hawks shoved both of his hands into his pants' pockets, uttering, "should we just-"

"Please," you interrupted him.

He looked a little surprised; but, the look faded quickly.

"I know you're not new to this; but, we're new to each other. So, we should talk about boundaries," Hawks suggested, the pitch of his tone suggesting he wanted you to go first.

"Oh - yes - uhm - I like the traffic system," you began, feeling unease creep up on you.

Your eyes shifted away from his piercing gaze. "Uhm. No marks in obvious places."

In the corner of your eye, you could see Hawks' head shift as he nodded, which encouraged to look back at him. His posture was relaxed, arms loose at his sides, but his shoulders were high, proud.

His wings were curled in tight against his back, which made you wonder if he was feeling uncomfortable, or was he doing that to make you feel better? Normally, his wings were jutting out, wide and intimidating and striking.

"I don't like being left alone," you added on.

His brow lowered questioningly, concern evident in a frown; but, you decided not to elaborate on that.

"-and I-..." you trailed off, catching yourself, and immediately added, "I think that's it."

"No. It wasn't," he challenged you. "What were you gonna say?"

The friendly tone you were quite familiar with from the winged hero was absent. He had caught that you purposely neglected something, and was clearly irritated by it. You weren't particularly surprised that he noticed, but was more amazed that he called you out on it.

"I - I like being praised," you elaborated quietly.

"Why would you wanna leave that out?" he asked, a little fierce, a little annoyed.

"It's needy," you answered with a brief laugh that was clearly not happy.

"Be needy," Hawks scolded in a firm, but gentle voice. "Tell me when you want something. Shit. I hope you get needier than that. It'll be more fun to make you work for it."

That promise had a blush reddening your cheeks.

Hawks was silent for a moment, giving you a chance to continue. Surely, there was more; but, right now, you just wanted to ease into the moment, to get to know this side of him.

"Uhm - what about you?"

At your question, you watched his eyes darken ever so slightly.

"Don't touch my wings," he answered, low and dangerous, with a threatening edge that had heat shooting down your spine.

"O-okay-"

"Unless I tell you otherwise, you will address me as 'sir'," he continued.

You stared at Hawks, wondering if he had some sort of mind-reading quirk or bugged your house. The latter was the more likely option and you were tempted to jokingly ask him about it.

However, by the look on his face, Hawks was eager to play, starting to go under, and wanted to bring you along. You swallowed and remembered your place inside these walls. Who you were here wasn't who you were out there. He wasn't Hawks, top-ranking hero of Japan, your boss. He was-

-your master.

"Hey-"

You blinked at him, finding your nerves starting to tense, goosebumps prickling along the surface of your skin.

"I don't care what we're doing or how deep we are in a scene, if you don't like something, if it hurts - in a bad way - if you wanna stop for any reason - I don't care what it is - 'red', and we stop. Understand?"

He was staring at you, gold eyes bright and mystifying. His tone had softened a bit, making it clear this wasn't a part of the act. This was real, down to bone and flesh, two souls prepared to give trust in a deeply feral act.

You couldn't help but feel some tears prickling at your eyes. Fearing your voice would crack, you nodded at him.

"Words, babybird," he cooed, firm, but sweet.

Maybe, you should have laughed at such a silly nickname. But, it sounded sweet coming from him, natural on his lips, like he felt comfortable and right saying it.

"Yes, sir," you managed.

You could see Hawks' throat bob as he swallowed. His gaze remained fixated on yours, and you could see something dangerous swimming in those gold iris.

He removed a hand from his pocket and slid it along your lower back, nudging you in the direction of the hallway. Your legs seemed more capable than your thoughts in that moment, for you began moving before you properly processed the silent request.

Then, suddenly, you were in a bedroom.

The mattress, dressed in dark grey sheets, was massive, and tucked into a smooth, ebony bedframe. The bedframe looked harmless enough; but, at a glance, you immediately recognized intentional designs in the post, caught glimpses of the hinges that bound the frame tightly to the wall to prevent unwanted shifting.

There was a large window nearby with perfectly clean glass, dark curtains pulled back to expose the night sky. You could imagine that the view of the city through the window was amazing, especially late at night.

Across the foot of the bed, against the opposite wall, was a comfortable-looking armchair: dark leather with smooth armrests that sat a little lower than standard chairs. It was easy to imagine what could be done there.

Hawks' hand was still resting on your lower back, palm pressed, fingers splayed, gentle and patient, but possessive.

Just as he had said, you weren't new to this, but you were new to him, new to this playroom, new to those hands. Perhaps the nickname was even more appropriate, for you felt like a baby bird about to waddle out of the nest.

Your lips tightened when Hawks stepped around you, coming into your field of view. His hand fell away from your back, and you immediately missed the contact. His eyes were searching yours for something, perhaps assurance that your nerves were from the newness and not lack of trust.

"What do you want to do tonight?" he asked.

You stared at him, tempted to throw the question right back at him.

"I want to fulfil one of your fantasies," he continued.

"But, what about you?" you protested in a weak voice.

Hawks laughed quietly, the low rumbling sound and pinched look on his face was startlingly handsome, and you were shamelessly aroused by how it sounded.

"I'll enjoy whatever you want," he explained.

You huffed quietly. "Please. I wanna know."

Hawks sighed, not quite frustrated, maybe spurred on by the defiance; you couldn't quite tell.

"My fantasy for tonight if to make you come. I can think of several ways to do that," he answered.

"Oh," you uttered back, the word fumbling past your lips almost uncontrollably.

Hawks smiled proudly. He stepped in a little closer, nudging his lips and nose along the side of your neck, ducking behind your ear. You felt a kiss there, right against your hairline, and sighed dumbly.

"How do you want me to make you come?" he asked, the whisper low and hoarse in your ear.

Oh, the ideas that swarmed your mind: positions and places in this room, with his hands, with his cock, with his mouth, sprawled out on the bed, bent over in front of the window, perched on his lap in that armchair.

No matter the fantasy, one thing remained the same: his lips found their way to yours. Sometimes, it was sweet, in contrast to degrading words. Sometimes, it was rough, like he was trying to satiate a monster's appetite.

But, Hawks didn't say anything about kissing. What if that wasn't allowed? Lots of doms didn't kiss their subs.

"I asked you a question," Hawks scolded gently, before biting gently on your neck, right beneath your ear.

You shuddered violently, gasping and arching into him. His hands grabbed at your waist and he leaned back to examine your face. He looked unbothered by the lewd, desperate expression you were wearing. But, the strong grip of his hands betrayed that.

"Is - is kissing allowed?" you stammered.

Hawks' brow lifted slightly.

"-s-sir," you added on hastily, before he could correct you.

"Yes, babybird. Kissing is allowed," he answered.

Hawks proved to be as starving as you were, for he tilted his head down and captured your mouth, a relieved exhale rumbling out of his throat like a growl. You trembled in response, trying desperately to return the kiss with the same enthusiasm he was giving you; but, Hawks was firm, demanding, and difficult to keep up with.

Suddenly, he had a hand cupping the back of your neck and an arm hooked around your lower back. He tugged you in, forcing you to arch, and trapped your smaller frame against his larger one, leaving you helpless but to surrender your mouth to his liking. Your hands grasped weakly at his T-shirt.

Soon, he was forcing your lips apart with his tongue and you hoped that you wouldn't forget the sensation of electricity coursing through your veins at how delicious he tasted. He lapped into your mouth like he was licking ice cream out of a bowl.

You mewled, weak and protesting, when he pulled back. The expression on his face was hypnotizing.

The words came out before you could control them. "Please - let me - I wanna suck you off," you breathed.

Hawks didn't react how you expected. You expected him to groan and push you down, to demand you make good use of that mouth. Usually, such a confession received a domineering response. Instead, his head tilted slightly to the side and his expression ever so slightly tilted on the edge of irritation.

"What makes you think you earned that?" he asked.

You blinked at him, confused.

You have to earn that? But, why?

An offended huff escaped Hawks and his lips shifted, slightly exposing a row of shiny teeth.

"You think just anyone can touch my cock?" he asked in a tone that didn't suggest he wanted an actual answer, sounding almost insulted that you hadn't considered it, insulted that you would dare assume you deserved it.

He leaned in closer, until his breath fluttered against your ear. "You think just any slut can have my cock?"

Oh-

That had you mewling, wiggling around in the firm grasp he still had on you. He tightened his hold on the back of your neck in a warning that had you freezing up immediately.

He was still for a few seconds, examining the hopeful look on your face, before you heard something sweet.

"...we'll see."

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, almost ashamed at how it huffed out of you uncontrollably.

"Since you didn't tell me how you want to come tonight, I'll arrange you however I see fit," he explained, some venom in his tone.

Slowly, as if afraid you would fall if he let go, Hawks pulled his hands off, giving you enough warning to expect his arms and weight to suddenly be gone.

"Take off your clothes," he instructed, gold eyes bright as they took you hungrily.

You began, and he stood there and watched, making no effort to remove his own clothes, letting his hands fall limp to his sides. You were almost ashamed to think that he looked incredibly handsome when he looked bored, as if he didn't care that you were undressing in front of him, as if you had done it many times before.

The bulge against his zipper was the only thing betraying that. Your eyes kept shifting back there, like eyeing a present begging to be opened.

Suddenly, he hovered his dominant hand in front of his crotch, where your eyes kept glancing, and snapped his fingers.

Once.

A warning.

Your eyes shifted up to meet his, and was met with an annoyed stare.

"Keep your eyes on mine," he uttered darkly.

Right-

-you had to earn his cock.

His words and that thought had you swallowing dryly.

It was surprisingly easy to let your bra and underwear join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Maybe, it was your desperation making it possible to ignore your trembling fingers. Maybe, it was his gold eyes, bright and unwavering as he took in your nudity hungrily, making you feel strong and desired.

The mask he wore faltered for a moment, and you saw a blink of desperation and gratitude in Hawks' eyes as he uttered, "fuck. You're gorgeous."

His stare could have melted you: moving over the flush of embarrassment staining your chest rest, where your breasts raised and fell with your breathing, down to the bundle of nerves between your thighs.

Hawks stepped closer, nudged your chin up with his knuckles, and kissed you again. It was softer this time, moving his lips carefully over yours like he was savoring it. When your hands came up and nearly touched his shoulders, he pulled back from the kiss and settled a glare on you.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

Your hands immediately dropped and you swallowed.

"N-no, Haw-"

Suddenly, his fingers and thumb were holding your jaw. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was firm.

"Who?" he asked, eyes staring you down angrily.

You inhaled sharply and choked out the words, "no, sir."

"Color?" he breathed out quietly, startling you a little with a brief moment of sobriety.

You breathed, "green," in a harsh sigh that fluttered across his face.

He didn't just looked pleased; he looked downright grateful, for just a second, before the moment of clarity was broken and the scene continued.

"Don't let it happen again," he scolded you, releasing your face and stepping back. "Turn around."

You did, uncertain of what was to come, and faced the bed, trying to ignore the unease in your belly.

Hawks' hand, the pads of his fingers, trailed up your spine, and you suppressed a shudder at the touch. He moved over one shoulder blade, then the other, up the back of your neck to nudge at the base of your spine, and then down again.

That continued for a short while: a wandering, curious touch, like he was evaluating a prized possession. He was firm, but not rough, and his hand was warm in contrast to the cold air in the room. While it would have been normal to perceive that touch as a massage, your mind supplied something else-

-you were being petted.

"Get on the bed: hands and knees, ass up."

A little noise escaped you at the request he had made.

You climbed up on the bed with trembling limbs, but struggled to completely comply with his request. You had been in that position before, of course; but, this was Hawks, someone knew, who had yet to see-

You barely registered the mattress shifting as Hawks joined you on the bed. You did, however, feel his hand on your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, roughly pushing you down to force your chest onto the sheets. Your cheek hit the mattress with a startled huff.

"Will I have to repeat myself every time?" he asked lowly, a calm voice dripping with frustration.

Your fingers dug into the sheets as you whimpered, "no, sir."

"You demand my cock, but then you can't even do as your told," he stated, condescending, a rough whisper.

You almost attempted an answer. But, then, he leaned back onto his calves and slid both hands up either side of your thighs. You couldn't help but tremble as his eyes swept over your very exposed core, presented to him like a bitch in heat.

"Fuck," he groaned.

You pressed your cheek into the sheets, attempting to turn your head to look back at him. You caught a glimpse of his wild, blonde hair, his crimson-feathered wings jutting out from behind him, beautiful and intimidating.

"Give me your hands," he demanded, not harshly, but with the expectation that you would obey.

Knowing full well what he intended, with some wiggling, you managed to shift your arms back. Hawks gathered your hands, brought your wrists together against the lower of your back and began weaving something soft and velvety between them.

You were briefly confused as to how he had managed to grab something without you noticing. But, then, you caught the brief movement of a stray feather returning to his wingspan, and remembered how his quirk worked.

"Color?" he asked, a little softer than his previous demand, as he bound your wrists together. His weaving continued an inch or so down the length of your wrists, comforting and strengthening the hold.

You flexed your hands a little, testing the hold.

"Green," you breathed.

Your knees wobbled when Hawks leaned back, and you felt his eyes sweep over you. You hoped he didn't catch it, but it was a short lived fantasy. His hands groped at your thighs, and the shuddering continued until he sighed, displeased.

"Stay still or I'll get a spreader," he threatened.

It was a threat, or should have been; yet, you moaned like it was a promise.

"Hm. Should I get one anyway?" he asked, taunting, yet with some sincerity in his tone.

Oh, there was simply no way to pretend you didn't want that. You wouldn't be able to struggle against whatever he intended, and the inevitable resistance would likely leave bruises on your skin. Yet, you would be at his mercy, on display like a toy-

-and if that wasn't a powerful feeling.

"Babybird," Hawks stated, expecting, and clearly irritated at your lack of response.

"I'll be good," you promised.

He was quiet for a moment, which gave you plenty of time to realize what you had done wrong.

"What did I tell you?" he snarled, suddenly jerking forward to lean over you.

He fisted a hand through your hair, grabbing with just enough force to get a good grip, but not nearly hard enough to hurt. Still, the unexpected touch in a sensitive place had you crying out.

"It wasn't a suggestion. What do you call me?" he exhaled harsh, warm breaths against the shell of your ear.

"S-sir," you stuttered out.

"Don't do it again," he uttered, low and dark.

Suddenly, you felt something cold touch your inner calf. His hands were quick, pushing your legs just a little further apart before wrapping a smooth, leather-like material around your thigh, just above your knee. He had it fastened quickly and moved onto the other leg. It was tight enough to not create friction, but loose enough to not cut off circulation.

You weren't spread wide, but your thighs were parted enough to keep your sex well exposed. With your arms behind your back, forcing an arch, you were presented like a well-trained bitch. The thought fell over you like a warm blanket.

You sank down into the sheets, felt a sturdy hand - Hawks' sturdy hand - smooth over your lower back. He continued, massaging a circle into your skin, until he felt your muscles relax, giving into the bindings.

The world outside this room, outside this moment, slowly faded away. All you could think about was the lewd position of your body, of the gold eyes staring at you, of a strong, appraising hand guiding you to his liking.

"Close your legs," Hawks commanded.

You tried, muscles shuddering as you struggled against the metal bar locking your legs apart.

"Sir, I can't," you whined as if you hadn't the faintest clue what that was.

"Good," he retorted.

Hawks leaned back and you could practically feel his eyes staring, taking in the curve of your arched back, the meat of your spread thighs, your feet curled pathetically into the sheets, and your sex on full display.

His cock ached, straining painfully against his zipper, and he groaned quietly, willing himself to ignore it.

"Fuck-" he sighed, the word heavy on his tongue. "Look at you."

His palms and fingers smoothed over the globes of your cheeks before shifting over the curves of your sides, moving up until his fingers touched your ribs.

"Babybird, last time I'm gonna check on you. Color?" he whispered.

"Green - oh fuck - green," you whimpered.

Slowly, his hands left you. The bed shifted slightly as he moved, and then suddenly all was still. You assumed he was still on his knees behind you, still staring; you could spot the curve of his wings. You resisted the urge to call out to him.

"You're so beautiful," Hawks exhaled, as if he couldn't believe it. "More beautiful than I imagined."

He imagined this?

You flustered at the mental images that swarmed your thoughts, of Hawks fisting over his cock with a firm hand, eyes pinched shut as he daydreamed about you spread out like this.

What else did he think about? You wanted to know.

"Do you like this? -being presented for me?"

"Yes, sir," you answered quietly.

There was a soft popping noise that you didn't recognize until one of Hawks' calloused thumbs, clearly wet, was swiping across your clit, and you briefly wondered if he had stuck it in his mouth before touching you.

Your legs trembled at the sudden sensation, trying and failing to slam shut. He drew a careful circle, pressing down on the bead. It was slow and deliberate, more tickling and torturing than actually pleasurable.

You whimpered and jerked your head around, trying to free yourself from his gentle assault.

His other hand spread over the back of your thigh and you felt his thumb dip into the flesh where your thigh met your crotch. He nudged closer, touching at the edge of your folds. You mewled uncomfortably when he pressed down and pulled carefully, spreading your sex even more than it already was with your legs parted and ass in the air.

"Oh god," you whimpered into the sheets.

Hawks' exhale sounded inhuman, like a pleased beast that caught a fresh kill after months without a feast.

"Look at how wet you are," he observed. "We haven't even done anything. Were you that desperate to show yourself to me?"

He let go shortly after, though his other hand remained, fingers spread comfortably over your abdomen while his thumb traced your pearl carefully. He swiped it roughly every so often, and you could practically feel the evil grin on his face as you whimpered and trembled in response, just barely catching a fragment of the friction you wanted.

The sound of a popping cap echoed around the room and his thumb slowly slid away from your swollen bead.

You were definitely wet enough to not need it. However, you still sighed in relief when you felt lube squirted directly onto your sex. It was a little cold, but not unpleasantly so, and trailed sensually down your spread lips.

The cap popped shut and was dropped onto the bed. It sank into your ankle due to the weight pressing down on the mattress, something you vaguely noticed before a digit trailed your sex, swirling around to gather the lube.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, cutting off the whine that escaped you.

The fact that you couldn't move your arms to grab at the bedding or shift your legs around for comfort came to mind. The strain of your muscles due to the forced arch of your back and part of your legs also came to mind.

Most importantly-

"Y-you're staring," you answered.

"Is it embarrassing?" Hawks asked.

"Yes," you whispered back.

"Heh."

The lack of his title went ignored, for Hawks was enjoying himself too much to care. You looked divine with your legs spread by a metal bar, wrists bound with red silk, and back arched, skin red from a combination of shame and arousal.

You could barely look at him properly with your cheek smooshed into the bed. Your expression was starving and desperate. The red tint staining your cheeks and neck was just as divine.

"You're beautiful down here, too," he explained hoarsely while his lubed finger trailed your entrance, swiping over the puffy wet folds surrounding your hole.

You felt his digit twist as he rotated his hand. Suddenly, the pad of his thumb pressed down against the tight rim of your asshole. You flinched weakly at the unexpected touch.

"-and here," he continued, voice warm with praise. "So pretty, and tight." He tested that theory with the slightest push, just barely pressing into the ring of muscle before pulling back to the surface. His digit was lubed and managed a smooth glide.

"You'd look so cute with a plug in your ass."

The choked sound that escaped you was shameful, and Hawks laughed softly in response.

"You'd like that? One with a red gem on the end," he mumbled, as if talking to himself.

As he voiced that thought, his finger finally slid inside your velvety walls. He removed his thumb from your other hole to focus drilling that digit in your cunt, knuckles brushing the outer lips in the process. You moaned wildly in response, hands twitching pathetically at your back.

"How's it feel?" he breathed.

"Good," you moaned.

Despite the wonderful sight of his digit drilling your folds, pushing wetness past his knuckles to drip down your thighs, Hawks was staring at your face.

You had closed your eyes, lips parted while you panted and moaned into the sheets. Your shoulders were shifting slightly with your labored breathing and your thighs trembled as you tried to resist the spreader.

He drew his finger back, uttering, "deep breath, babybird."

When the digit returned, it was accompanied by another finger. The slight discomfort barely lasted a second before your core stretched to accommodate. That finger, most likely the middle, was bigger and longer, the calloused ridges impossible to ignore.

Hawks drilled his digits carefully, rotating his hand until they were angled just right, and forced a scream out of your throat. It was difficult enough reaching that spot on your own, even with toys, and Hawks found it immediately.

"Right there!" you sobbed, drooling onto his sheets while your shoulders twitched. "Please - please...!"

The squelching, wet sounds of your cunt were startlingly loud, almost louder than the moans that spewed uncontrollably past your lips. You couldn't help it.

"I was hopeful, but damn, babybird; you're more of a slut than I expected. Drooling on my bed already, and it's just my fingers."

You tried to close your mouth. But, suddenly, Hawks was forcing in another finger, pushing three large digits past your entrance, and that attempt was immediately abandoned.

"Drooling back here, too," he uttered, loud enough to ensure you could hear him over the squelching wet sounds of your sex.

"Hear that? Fucking sloppy little hole."

You were more than ready by now, the squelching sounds and effortless glide more proof than his naughty words. You were dribbling slick all over his hand and flushed along your neck with an aroused, red tint.

Expecting the sound of his zipper, you were surprised when Hawks paused his movement for just a moment while his other arm shifted.

Something blunt pressed against your swollen, weeping clit.

"You don't have any idea how good you look right now," Hawks uttered, his voice hoarse and almost pained. "Wanna keep you here all fucking night, 'til you can't remember a damn thing."

You whimpered in response.

"But I want to see you fucking cum."

A click echoed around the room and vibrations carried along the object pressing against your clit. The sudden friction had you crying out into the room, chest slightly lifting off the bed as you inhaled sharply. He started at a low setting, but the rush of blood to your bead and lack of touch up until this moment had you sensitive.

Your hips shuddered, torn between trying to pull away and arch in closer. His fingers started a feverish pace, shifting rapidly in and out of your heat, pushing against your plush, pliant walls and nudging the sweet spot inside you.

"Ple - s-sir, please," you sobbed, for release to find you, for him to not stop, for something you weren't quite sensible enough to relay.

His fingers felt amazing, long and thick and reaching all the best places. But, you wanted his cock to split you open, to feel his thighs against the back of yours every time he slid home, to soak up his pleasured sounds as he used your pliant hole to his liking.

If he was aware of that want, he didn't make it obvious, instead opting to increase the vibrations with a single button click. Your legs trembled, thighs locked by the spreader, wiggling around in place in a pathetic attempt to move.

The pleasure was building fast, to the point that it caught you off guard. You could barely form any words, pathetic sounds resembling moans and sobs spewing from your mouth. You couldn't see it; but, Hawks was staring, mesmerized by the look of pleasure etched across your face.

He held the toy steady while his fingers pummeled your cunt. Your legs shook violently, unable to shift against that touch. It felt good, so good that it was almost uncomfortable. Tears clouded in your eyes and-

-you screamed, shoulders and spine shuddering, trying to curl in yourself as the pleasure apexed.

It went on and on, and Hawks didn't dare stop or slow down, until you stopped shaking and sobbing, reduced to a panting, drooling mess on his sheets.

Slowly, he slid his fingers out and turned off the vibrator.

"God, the sounds you make when you come," Hawks continued, whispering into the heated air above you.

You-

Right. You came. He didn't.

One of his hands started working at the velvet on your wrists, while his other hand held your arms. Once the binding was undone, he carefully brought your arms back to your sides, using his grip to move them slowly so they wouldn't immediately flop back over.

You trembled at the feeling of him leaning over you, still not quite right in the head.

"I want you to come," you whined.

Hawks didn't answer, running a soothing hand along your back.

"P-please, sir, I want you to-"

It didn't quite occur to you how pathetic you sounded, whimpering into the sheets in dismay at the lack of satisfaction on his part.

"Shhh. Hey - calm down," Hawks cooed, his voice sweet like warm syrup. "Let me get you out of this first."

You obeyed, stilling as his hands carefully unclasped the spreader and pushed the bar into the corner of the bed.

He nudged you forward, off your knees, until your tummy touched the bedding. He didn't make you wait long before he carefully rolled you onto your back. You parted your legs and beckoned him between them, mewling when he nudged forward.

"I - I want-" you panted.

"Not for our first time, okay?" Hawks uttered, cupping your face in one large hand. His skin felt clammy and warm, reminding you he was still strung up tight.

You leaned into his touch and whimpered, "please - can I touch you?"

Hawks released a broken exhale. "You don't have to."

"I really want to," you replied immediately, finding the strength in your arms to reach for him.

The session was over, or should have been, but you were still in deep, and resisting his attempts to bring you out of subspace.

Hawks took in the desperate, hungry look on your face, felt your trembling hands grab at his jacket. He wasn't sure if anyone had ever looked at him with eyes like that before.

"Okay, babybird, okay. You've been so good. Just your hand this time."

Your eyes fell down to watch Hawks undo his belt with one hand, while his other shifted from your face to prop up on the bed sheets. He hovered over you, nudging a little closer, while he freed his cock from his boxers.

Perhaps, under different circumstances, you would have laughed at yourself for staring like a virgin who had never seen one before. But, it was impossible not to when he revealed a trail of light blonde hairs nuzzled at the base of an impressive length that all but slapped against your stomach upon being released from his boxers.

Any concerns about his arousal were long lost at that moment. He was not only painfully hard, but tinted red with a faint hue of purple, desperate for release.

You didn't give Hawks a chance to be embarrassed about the pre-come he was leaking on your tummy, hurriedly wrapping your dominant hand around his shaft and working your palm over him, tugging on the soft, sensitive skin.

The startled, hoarse noise he made sent a tremor or excitement through you. His hips chased your hand, rolling into your grip while his other hand immediately fell to the bed to hold himself up, less he collapse over you.

"Fuck," he hissed.

You tore your eyes away from his length and peered up at his face. His brow was lowered, eyes half lidded as he stared down at you, huffing out exhales through parted lips.

Your arm was tired and sore from the forced position he had bound you in; yet, spurred on by his obvious pleasure, you managed to ignore it and stroked him feverishly.

"Stop - fuck, babybird, stop - 'm gonna-" he warned through grunts and labored breaths.

You vaguely registered how fast that was, and swelled with pride at the thought that he had been so severely turned on just by playing with you.

"On me," you purred, unrelenting in the pace of your strokes.

He seemed to like that, for he was spurting before you even managed to take your next breath. Burning hot seed spilt over you in thick ropes, across your stomach and some even reaching your clavicle. He moaned startlingly loud, though not the least bit unwelcomed, head lulling to the side as his orgasm took him. Even as weaker spurts coated your hand, you kept going, only stopping when his moaning finally stopped and he took in a sharp inhale.

"Fuck - holy fuck," Hawks panted.

His face disappeared behind his hair as his head sagged. You saw and felt the whole body shudder as he struggled to not collapse on top of you.

But then, he leaned up, just as you let go of his pulsating cock, and took in the sight of you.

"You're really-" He paused and took a deep breath. "-fucking unfair. God damn. Look - look at you..."

You-

-on your back, with a blush on your face, chest and tummy covered in his release.

The sadistic side of his mind provided plenty of depraved things to say to you, to mock you for enjoying this, for moaning like a bitch when he came on you. He settled on something sweeter.

"Good girl," he uttered, dragging his knuckles lovingly along your jawline.

You leaned into his touch with a pleased sigh.

"Be still," he commanded gently, carefully shifting off the bed.

You watched him put his cock away and hastily fix his clothes before he disappeared into a hallway at the corner of the room, wings flexing behind him in an unconscious gesture. He returned a minute or so later with a damp washcloth in hand.

"That was amazing," he sighed, sounding winded as he carefully wiped his spent off of you.

"You didn't..." you began, sounding a little more displeased than you cared for.

"I usually don't," Hawks offered sheepishly.

"Oh. Sorry for pushing," came your soft reply.

"No. No. It's not - my subs usually don't want that from me," he explained, pulling the towel away.

In the corner of your eye, you caught the sight of one of his feathers carrying the towel away. The thought was lost when Hawks crawled into the bed and ushered you into his chest. His hand ran up and down your back as your cheek fell into the exposed skin where his neck met his shoulder.

"Do you want that?" you dared to ask, leaning into him with a sigh.

"Maybe some other time," he offered with a soft laugh.

"I just - are you sure that was enough?"

"You really don't - shit, I don't know how to explain how amazing you looked. Just being able to - to do those things is enough for me," Hawks explained, his voice lacking of the dominant tone he had moments ago. "I didn't want to go too far before you got comfortable."

"So," you began, leaning back to look up at him. You sat up a little and Hawks followed, his lips curling into a frown.

"There's more?" you asked.

The hope in your tone was unmistakable, and a surprised expression crossed his features.

"I-..." he trailed off, gold eyes staring unblinking into yours. "Fuck, babybird: the things I want to do to you..."

Again, he trailed off, and you stared, awaiting an answer.

"Let's not talk about that right now," Hawks sighed, leaning back with a rough plop into the sheets.

You stayed hovering, looking down at him, pressed against his side. One of his hands was still tracing circles into the skin along your back. His other took hold of your face and gently guided you back down, until your head fell into the spot beneath his chin and the rest of your body was forced to follow.

"You really are amazing," he whispered. "You did really good. I'm proud of you."

You knew it was fluff to calm you down; but, it sounded sincere, like he meant every word.

Maybe he did.

Part of you wanted to tell him that was all unnecessary. You knew it was an act, and hardly anything compared to scenes you had done before. But, there was no mistaking the unease that came from being bound, the ache left behind on your arms and legs. His hands had put you that way, and were now coddling you like a lover.

It felt too good to possibly tell him to stop.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, having what was essentially sex with your boss wasn't as stressful as you had anticipated.

You slept like a baby that night, went out with your friends the next day, tidied your apartment the day after that. Business as usual continued on Monday, and it wasn't awkward seeing Hawks around the office. As he had promised, nothing changed at work.

It was exciting to know a side of him that the others didn't, to see glimpses of something dangerous beneath that charming smile. When he would praise you, even over something mundane, in that casual tone, it shot down your spine. The way his eyes lingered for just a little longer than before suggested he knew what he was doing.

Well-

-maybe things did change, just a little bit, not that you were complaining.

A few weeks rolled by before Hawks instigated again.

Thursday afternoon, he sauntered out of his office, behind one of the board members of the Hero Commission, whose fancy shoes clicked loudly on the floors as they walked.

The deep rooted frown on Hawks' face was intentional, making it clear he did not enjoy whatever conversation he just had, and was glad it was finally over.

You were too focused on your monitor and didn't see him walking by until he came to a skidding halt at your desk, leaning over the cubicle walls comically. His wings flexed out briefly with a soft 'flap' before folding back in.

As you tilted your head up to look at him, you briefly thought about how cute that was: a childish, but subtle, way of getting your attention. Of course, his intentions were anything but innocent, even if the look on his face suggested as much.

"Tomorrow, after work, I thought-" he uttered. "We could - if you're up for it?"

You peered up at him innocently, finding a similar, nonchalant, gold gaze staring back. It was in the middle of the day, surrounded by all your coworkers. He was quiet enough to not be heard by anyone else, and it looked like he was asking about damn near anything, like how the coffee was this morning, or maybe the weather.

Honestly, you were equally impressed and enamored.

"I am," you replied professionally, as if you were answering a work-related question and not-

-well, that.

He smiled briefly before trotting away.

Friday night came, and you took the familiar ride up the elevator, felt your blood pressure rise with each floor level as you gripped your purse for dear life, and just barely managed to level out when you knocked on his door.

You barely got a glimpse of him before Hawks practically dragged you inside by a soft grip on your arms. There was a cute cross between an excited and evil look on his face. It didn't have you worried, really. He looked handsome as ever and you knew what you were here for.

Besides, his excitement made you feel good, made you wanted and desired.

As soon as the front door clicked shut, he greeted you with a kiss. It was deep rooted, the kind where heads tilted and mouths slotted perfectly together. It had your skin prickling and heart thumping, yet it felt like the kiss of long experienced lovers.

As if sensing your declining stability, Hawks worked his arms around your waist. The kiss didn't last long, but had you struggling to draw in a proper breath. Hawks, of course, looked as immaculate as ever, his slanted, avian-eyes taking you in with amusement.

"I got you something," he declared.

A small smile formed on your face.

"If you don't like - if it's too much-" he babbled on. "I don't want you to feel pressured to agree to anyt-"

"What'd you get me?" you cut him off, letting excitement seep through your tone.

As you had hoped, it calmed him down, for a crooked smile found its way onto Hawks' face. He rotated around to stand behind you, and nudged you gently towards the bedroom. His hands felt massive where they rested on your waist and your eager feet carried you through the halls.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, and was a little surprised by the gift. There was something familiar sitting at the edge of Hawks' bed. His bedsheets were dark grey, and the bright, crimson item sitting there stood out drastically.

It was a collar.

Hawks stayed back while you approached, giving you space to explore. As silly as it might have seemed, he was a nervous wreck, torn between excitement and fear. Of course he wanted to see it on you, but he didn't want you to feel pressured to comply for his sake, and worried you wouldn't like it.

When you picked it up and touched the material, you recognized it as a smooth leather, the kind that felt nice on the skin, that was meant to be touching skin. It was lightly padded and soft on the inside, an intricate sewing pattern along the edges.

-and it was red: crimson, bright, beautiful red, suspiciously a very similar shade to his feathers. It looked expensive, with a titanium buckle and leash hoop, the well tailored appearance implying it was handmade.

Still holding the collar, you turned to face Hawks, and was surprised at how nervous he looked. The worried expression softened when he saw something curious in your eyes.

"What's this?" you asked in a faux innocent voice.

A brief laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. Of course you knew what that thing implied; but, you wanted to hear him say it, and he needed to be open about his desires regardless.

"It's proof that you're mine. My... my slave," he explained, as if confessing to some horrible sin he had committed. He sounded uncertain, testing the waters, maybe a little worried you wouldn't approve.

"You want me to be your slave?" you asked softly, looking up at him sweetly.

"Yes," he answered immediately, his voice lowering. "But, only if you want to be."

You looked back down at the collar in your hand, rolling the material between your fingers, wondering how it would feel on the delicate skin of your neck. You had never been collared before. It should have been nothing compared to being tied up and bound.

But, there was something possessive and personal about it. Normally, that would have been alarming; but, it didn't sound so bad with Hawks. He wasn't forcing it on you; he was giving you a chance to tell him no.

"I bought it for you," he explained quietly. "N-not to pressure you - just, I didn't want you to think anyone else has worn it. It's only yours."

It felt different after his explanation. It wasn't just a collar to play around with, that just any sub would wear in his presence. It was yours: your master's gift to you.

You couldn't help but scoff quietly at that thought, aware of how depraved and undignified that sounded, especially considering how pleased it made you feel.

Suddenly, you handed the collar to Hawks. Before he could question it, you set your bag down at one of the end tables and started stripping.

He seemed impressed, eyebrows raising slightly and gold eyes wide, maybe even happy you wanted to play badly enough to dive right in. You felt powerful and possessed as your clothes slipped away and he kept staring. It was a little easier than last time; but, you still felt a tinge of unease when Hawks' eyes fell over your naked form.

A strong hand touched your shoulder. He barely nudged you, a very soft, yet commanding touch, and you immediately sank down to your knees. His hand slid up the side of your neck and cupped your jaw in a gentle, possessive touch.

Your head tilted back and you looked up at him, finally taking in the clothes he was wearing. Grey lounge pants were hanging low on his hips, the prominent bulge at the front implying he wasn't wearing underwear beneath, and clearly liked the view. His black T-shirt was hugging his chest and shoulders. At this angle, you could see beneath the hem and caught a glimpse at that delicious trail of light blonde hairs decorating his skin.

"Are you sure? I promise I won't be upset if you don't like this," he uttered. "It's a lot. I know it's a lot."

"I want to try it. I'll tell you if I feel uncomfortable," you replied softly, eyes shifting to the collar in his hand.

Previous doms never collared you and it never crossed your mind before. Maybe, it just seemed like an intimate thing for someone else, and not for you. In that moment, however, you felt possessive, eyeing the gift eagerly. You hadn't even worn it yet, but you felt like it was yours.

Hawks hesitated, looking down at you almost nervously.

"It's new," you confessed.

His knuckles dragged along your cheek, forcing a sigh from your throat. His thumb nudged beneath your chin, forcing your head back just a little more.

"You've never been collared before?" he suggested.

"No."

Hawks made a quiet noise that couldn't be mistaken for anything but pleased, and it had your skin prickling with excitement.

"Sorry. That-" he cut off and released a sharp huff of a breath, "-makes me happy. 's exciting: like buying a new toy."

Instead of the collar, as you had expected, his hand wrapped around your neck, gentle as always, but firm. He didn't squeeze, just enjoyed the feeling of your pulse beating like a butterfly against his skin.

"Do you want your collar, baby?" Hawks asked, his voice a little hoarser than a moment ago.

You swallowed against his palm, struggling to keep your eyes on the dark face he was wearing. Your eyes shifted back to the collar and briefly pondered about what it would feel like. Nothing was set in stone. You trusted he would stop if you asked.

"Yes," you breathed.

You felt the shifting of his hands. He was quick and when he departed, the weight of the collar sagged slightly onto the top of your collarbone. It was tight enough to feel the slightest friction when you swallowed and a little heavier than expected, but cool and flexible against your skin.

Hawks stopped touching you and went silent. When you finally relaxed enough to peer up at him, you were almost startled by the downright feral look in his eyes.

Immediately, he became aware of that and wiped the look away with a blink and heavy exhale. His cock was hard, tenting his pants, and you could see the veins bulging on his forearms. Your heart fluttered with pride and heat swarmed your face.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

You nodded, finding it difficult to speak in that moment. The collar wasn't tight, that wasn't the reason. There was a downright starving look in Hawks' eyes and the dynamic had shifted drastically.

"Stand up," Hawks commanded.

The sudden, strict tone startled you a little, and you worked to rise to your feet.

You had barely stabilized before Hawks was grabbing your wrists. He gathered them in one hand and hoisted your arms above your head. He wasn't that much taller than you, but god was he strong. The harsh movement had you whimpering. He brought your arms up until you were forced onto your toes. Your back arched into his body, naked skin brushing against his clothes.

Vaguely, you could feel yourself panting as he stared down at you. He looked like he was admiring his latest purchase.

"Babybird, tell me what your colors mean," he instructed, voice smooth as melted caramel.

You took a deep breath, blinking rapidly as you tried to calm down.

"Green means good, y-yellow means slow down, red means s-stop, sir," you answered.

"Good girl," he praised, leaning in until his breath huffed out warmly against your temple.

You moaned pathetically when he kissed you there.

"I trust you to be honest with me," he continued.

"I will. I will," you breathed.

A feral sound escaped him, something dark that rumbled through his chest, approving and immensely pleased.

Slowly, Hawks' arm lowered, bringing your arms down. His free hand cupped your bare hip, as if to stabilize you, as his hand released your wrists, freeing them.

A little voice inside your head reminded you to not place your hands on him without permission, and your arms fell down obediently to your sides. The hand that was holding your wrists crawled up the center of your chest. He hooked a thick finger through the leash hook and tugged.

"What does this mean?" he asked, pulling on the collar just enough to tilt you forward.

"I'm yours," you mumbled with uncertainty.

"That's right," he purred.

Hawks leaned in until his eyes disappeared from your field of view. His lips barely touched the shell of your ear before he added on darkly, "all mine."

You flinched ever so slightly.

"Is there something you want today?" he asked, breath hot against the shell of your ear and words unintentionally loud as they weaved through your thoughts.

"Can I touch you?" you asked, drawing in your next breath through your nose. It sounded pathetic.

"I'm touching you. Is that not good enough?" he asked, sounding genuinely offended.

The sensible part of your brain told you to not be silly. He didn't mean it. But, the weight of the collar around your neck and his low tone was dragging you down quickly.

"N-no. It is, I - uhn-"

Your mumbling came to an abrupt end when he tugged on the collar, bringing you in until your body almost collided with his. He was pulling it up, now, forcing your back into an uncomfortable arch. It hurt your neck, just a little bit.

"You're so greedy. You still think you deserve my cock, don't you?" Hawks sneered, his voice low and almost patronizingly sweet, but downright venomous.

He freed his finger from the hook on your collar and slipped his digits beneath the hem, sliding up until his palm cupped your throat. He pushed forward, forcing your feet to move, less you collapse. The backs of your knees hit the bed and he kept pushing until you fell over, back hitting the sheets.

Hawks' hand let go as he came over you. He was quick, grabbing at your waist to push you to the center of the bed. Vaguely, you realized that he had pushed your legs up, pinning the backs of your thighs against the tops of his.

Your head fell back, dizzy with how quickly he had moved you and the intensity of his words. You took in the sight of Hawks' wings, fanned out behind him where he hovered above you. Vaguely, you registered some of his feathers departing his wingspan.

His hands gripped your elbows and pushed your arms above your head. Your wrists knocked together and you felt something soft and fluffy press down on your skin.

His hands had left you too quickly, leading you to wonder if he had dropped something; yet, when you tried to move your arms, you found that whatever was touching you was strong, ridiculously so, and holding you down.

A confused breath escaped your parted lips and you tried to look up, but couldn't crane your neck far enough. An amused, evil chuckle fluttered past Hawks' lips.

You straightened your neck and peered up at him, cheeks heated and eyes confused. His gold eyes were sharp, taking you in hungrily, his pupils narrowed into slits. The bird-like curve of his eyelids was more pronounced. A standard, frightened response wasn't present. You shuddered with delight.

Something soft and wispy tickled your cheek briefly before floating away. Your eyes caught it and you finally realized what was pinning your arms to the sheets. A few more came down to bundle at your forearms and keep you still.

Hawks' feathers.

You swallowed and he grinned.

You had always wondered what they would feel like. They barely felt like real feathers, as it turned out. They were soft like feathers, but unnaturally firm, holding you down with the strength of one of his hands. It was easy now to see how one could pick someone up. You could feel them shifting slightly, thrumming with life.

Could he feel them on you? You sure hoped so.

A stray plume wandered down your chest, intentionally brushing your skin. You gasped when it trailed past your clavicle, into the valley of your chest.

The feather circled your breast menacingly before wrapping around the perky bud at the center. You cried out, wiggling helplessly at the electric touch. It was gentle, but firm, incredibly soft hairs around a strong center. You had never felt anything like it.

Another accompanied, finding its way onto your other nipple. They pinched and twirled in harmony, giving you the tiniest sparks of pleasure. More and more feathers rained down, curling in your hair, wrapping around the swells of your breasts. Most of them lingered against your skin, pressing with gently touches, but were otherwise still.

"Babybird, color?" Hawks breathed, staring at you like a man possessed.

"Ghhr-" you gurgled out. Hawks smiled and waited patiently for a proper answer. "Green - ohhh. F-feels good. C-can you feel th - ah - f-feel them?""

"Little bit," he answered hoarsely.

His voice was soft, and it was in sharp contrast to the torturous ways he was using his quirk on you. Surely, this was inappropriate for such an esteemed hero? Yet, all that thought managed was to get your thighs trembling with excitement.

"I didn't get a chance to eat before you got here," he uttered, that dark, dangerous tone suddenly returning. "Luckily, you brought a meal for me."

A meal? What?

You were too focused on his feathers to recognize the obvious implications of that statement. Hawks answered it quickly, however. You saw his shoulders roll, his head lower, his wings took up more of your field of view as his back paralleled your body. Suddenly he was bent over you, shimmied lower, propped your thighs on his shoulders-

You startled yourself with how loudly you cried out, gasping wildly into the bedroom.

Hawks' face was between your thighs and the thick, wet thing that flattened against your clit couldn't be anything but his tongue. It was difficult to see straight, between his lapping at your swollen pearl and his feathers pinching your perky nipples.

His wings shuddered above you as he finally got a taste, feathers shuddering in a rippling wave, and you prayed that was a good sign - that master liked your taste.

His hands roughly grabbed at your thighs, hoisted your legs higher, and his tongue lowered, exploring your folds with disgusting, rough licks. He drilled your entrance the second he found it, pressing in so close that you felt his nose nudge your clit.

You were shaking, overwhelmed by his touch, releasing punched out gasps and whispering pathetically. Your arms shook in the grasp of his feathers, back arching until your ribs pushed against your skin from the strain.

Suddenly, Hawks tore away and leaned up. His face, twisted with anger, came in close, and startled a frightened sound out of you.

"You will ask for - beg for - permission to come," he snarled. "If you don't - if you come without permission - I'll whip you. Do you understand?"

You didn't answer quickly enough, apparently, for he added on harshly, "I asked you a fucking question."

You gawked at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide, panting like a dog. For the briefest second, Hawks feared that he had frightened you, and that worry became evident as his dark expression melted away. But, then, he realized, the look in your eyes wasn't fear.

You were sinking impossibly deeper and in absolute awe at the sight of him like this-

-Hawks, who was always so kind, so patient, with eyes sharpened with rage, practically foaming at the mouth as he ordered you around.

It was exhilarating.

"Yes, sir," you exhaled.

He was back between your thighs before you could blink. This time, along with his tongue against your pearl, two fingers harshly entered your sloppy, wet cunt. You screamed and he growled approvingly into your skin.

His tongue flicked at your pearl, up and down, flattening against the bud, pressing down, leaning up and rolling, again and again. Thick fingers glided in and out of your wet heat, the wrinkles on his knuckles providing tantalizing friction. If you ever forgot about the feathers on your chest, they reminded you with a gentle pinch.

The worst part was looking down and seeing that blonde mop between your legs, feeling the soft hair tickling your thighs. He tilted his head and you felt the hairs on his chin tickle your sex. His wings were elevated naturally above him, curled with his back. Gold eyes were glossed over, half-lidded, focused on the task at hand.

Sir - you were supposed to call him 'sir'-

-but, you eventually realized that you were crying out 'Hawks'.

It was building quickly, tension rising like a fuse nearing its end. You had plenty of time to comply with his demands, plenty of time to plead for permission to come over his handsome face.

That thought rang loudly in your head: you need to ask, you need to beg, you need to permission from your master to come. There was a promise if you didn't, and oh, you wanted to know what that would be like.

You moaned and sobbed, writhing beneath his touch, letting your orgasm overtake you without bothering to warn him. In the heat of the moment, Hawks didn't seem to care. You heard him moan and felt the vibrations travel through your contact. He didn't let up until your thighs stopped shaking and your moaning calmed.

Hawks leaned up and you watched him wipe away your essence where it dripped down his bottom lip. Some of it was clinging to the fine, blonde hairs on his chin. He dragged his hand over his face, wiping it away.

There was a fire raging in his eyes. You barely got a chance to take it in before he was stepping back, outside of your legs. He closed them and rolled you onto your front. You squealed as you rotated, cheek and chest suddenly squished into the sheets.

Your hands gripped at the bed sheets in anticipation. You were too far gone to realize that his feathers had let go. Most of them remained on the sheets surrounding you, limp and almost forgotten where they laid.

Hawks yanked you up onto your knees, ensuring your thighs remained together. You felt a familiar material, light and smooth, in a bundle of strands, barely drag along your thigh, and that was the closest you got to a warning before he pulled back.

There was a loud snap that echoed around the room, and you felt a sharp and sudden sting on the bottom curve of your ass. It didn't hurt bad enough to justify the way you screamed. It was more startling than painful. But, another came, and then another, and another, and it really did start to hurt, pain and heat blossoming on the surface of your skin.

He stopped after a few strikes. That moment of clarify allowed you to realize how much you had strewn the bedsheets with your fidgeting. You admired the wrinkled grey through tear soaked eyes, saw the way your bones strained at the skin along your knuckles from your tight grip.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Hawks asked.

You inhaled sharply, intending to answer. But, that whip came down again, and your breath caught in your throat. You weren't sure if it was the material or his well-trained hand, but it felt different than you had experienced before. The contact on your skin was loud and the pain was sharp, but not unbearable, immediately dulled into sore pleasure.

You arched your back, silently begging for more, and hiccupped on the next impact.

"Of course you did," he scoffed.

You felt more so than heard his body shift to lean over you. He wasn't immediately touching any of you; but, the weight on the bed shifted, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. A large hand curled beneath your collar, right over your throat.

"Did you already forget your place?" he snarled, right in your ear. It was loud and menacing, yet you moaned like he said something sweet.

"N-no-"

"No?" he repeated angrily, a little taunting. "You came on my face and addressed me improperly."

You knew that, but still gasped at his accusation.

"You're a dirty little thing, aren't you?"

His hand released your throat to shift outside of your collar and roughly grasped your jaw. Despite his harsh words, Hawks turned your head and kissed you gently. You moaned embarrassingly loud, devouring that kiss like a well earned treat.

The kiss didn't linger and Hawks pulled back, pushing your head back down into the sheets.

"I'm not done yet," he snarled.

The hand on your head was patronizing, and it remained when he started whipping you again, holding you down just enough to ensure you couldn't lean up, but not enough to suffocate. It made it better, or worse - both? Your screaming stopped, and instead, you whimpered with each impact. He was careful with each swing, ensuring he struck the right place.

-again and again.

He didn't intend to go for so long, but the choked, gasping noises you made were delicious.

Eventually, he stopped, tossing the flogger over his shoulder, and yu heard it hit the floor with a light thump. His hand maneuvered around the side of your head and his knuckles gently smeared the tears staining your cheek.

"What do you say?" he asked, voice significantly softer than it was a moment ago.

"Thank you, sir," you panted, voice weak and bubbly, like you were able to cry. Maybe you were, but not out of pain or misery. You wanted him to touch you some more - you wanted him to fuck you - so bad, it hurt.

Hawks froze up and stared. He expected an apology, not a thank you. He almost couldn't believe that that was what you offered instead, while drooling and crying on his sheets, your ass and thighs red. It made his cock throb in his pants.

He sat up so quickly, it nearly made him dizzy.

"You took it all without complaining," Hawks praised, carefully pushing your thighs apart with his hands.

"Good girl-"

You moaned shamelessly at that.

"-you can come."

-and he was licking you again. His tongue dragged along your folds and your thighs trembled, knees nearly giving out. With a growl, he slapped your ass, where it was red and sore, and received a startled scream in response.

"Stay up," he commanded.

His tongue returned, poking at your entrance while his hot breath nearly burnt the skin of your sex.

-another slap.

"Stay up, you fucking slut."

This time, it was his fingers entering you and setting a brutal pace. He drilled them in and out, slapping his knuckles against the outer folds of your cunt. You were shaking and moaning, hands clawing at the bed sheets.

It wasn't enough. It was good, so, so good, but your clit was throbbing to the point of pain, and this position did absolutely nothing to aid that. You were right on the edge of begging him to touch you there. You choked out a sob, about to-

When something soft and firm wiggled between your folds and pinched at your clit.

What-

-not a finger. Not a toy.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of his wings in the corner of your vision. They were spread out behind him, flexed like a bow string pulled taut, crimson feathers fluttering softly, maybe to keep his balance as he was hunched over you.

Oh-

-one of his fingers.

His tongue dragged along your spine before he laid his cheek between your shoulder blades.

"Sir, please," you sobbed, twisting your grip on the sheets and pressing your cheek down harder.

You wanted him inside you. You wanted to feel the stretch as his cock nuzzled inside, feel the slap of his hips against the apex of your thighs as he rearranged your insides to his liking. The distant, sober part of your mind provided the possibility that Hawks simply didn't fuck his subs.

"Pleeaa-"

A hand roughly collided with a sore ass cheek, silencing you.

"You're gonna take it until you come," he growled.

That wasn't going to be a problem, especially not when his teeth starting digging into your shoulder. He bit you harshly, drooling a little on your skin.

"Good slaves come when they're told."

How the hell did he manage to keep his fingers moving, while focusing on that twirling feather - and even delivering another slap when you still hadn't come.

You were trembling, sobbing, vaguely aware that you were drenched in sweat. Hawks was panting above you. He nuzzled his face behind your ear, dragging his teeth up the back of your neck.

"Come for me, and I'll let you suck my cock."

Wetness soaked past his knuckles and dripped over his palm. You could feel his chest against your upper back, trembling faintly as he chuckled evilly.

You were already right on the edge, and surely he knew that, but such a lewd promise had you shuddering violently. Your eyes rolled back and you came with a hoarse cry.

"That's it - yeah, good girl..."

You were shaking violently, and still coming when your knees gave in and you collapsed on the sheets. Hawks didn't remove his fingers quite yet, but slowed down, crooking them slightly to make you whimper. After a short time, when the waves of pleasure died down, his digits and feather finally retreated.

Hawks carefully rolled you onto your back and peppered kisses over your face, over your nose and across your cheeks. You whined in protest and weakly attempted to wiggle away, aware that he was administering aftercare; but, you didn't want it to be over yet.

His hands carefully slid over your neck, and you realized he was fidgeting to remove the collar.

You jerked away from his touch, making a disapproving noise.

"W-wait. Can we - in scene?" you panted, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

"Oh," Hawks replied, clearly caught off guard. "I was just - you don't have to do that."

You frowned at him, searching for the words to make it clear that you really wanted to, not purely for his sake, but because you liked it - because you fucking wanted to.

"Babybird," Hawks breathed, taking in the desperate, eager look on your face.

"Are you sure about doing that in scene?" he added on nervously.

You leaned up on your elbows, mumbling, "please. Please, sir."

You didn't want to leave this headspace, not yet. Not until he reached his end.

Hawks released a brief, breathless chuckle, his head sinking down between his shoulders where he hovered above you.

"Shit. Are you trying to kill me?"

You didn't answer, offering him a small smile. He looked out of it when his head came back up, eyes dark with lust and cheeks stained red. His hair was a mess, and damn it if it didn't make him look even more handsome.

Hawks sat upright and gave you a great view of the tent his cock was pitching in his sweat pants. His hairline was a little damp with sweat and his chest was shifting a little quicker than normal.

Oh-

-there was no way you were letting him get out of this.

Despite how sore you were, you wiggled up onto your knees and followed Hawks as he maneuvered to the edge of the bed. You didn't have to be told. You knew where he wanted you, and carefully slid to the floor.

Hawks let out a pained moan as you looked up at him from the floor, on your knees between his spread thighs, the collar bright red on your neck.

You waited for instructions, and Hawks licked his lips.

"Go on," he purred, lifting his hips a little.

You tugged on the hem of his sweatpants and watched his cock bob free as the hem fell beneath his sack. Hawks sat back down and pushed his shirt up slightly. You tried not to stare at the harsh outline of his abs, or the dusting of pale blonde hairs making a line up the center.

God, you wanted to lick him all over.

Your eyes lowered and took in the sight of his cock, thicker than you remembered it from before. It was dark pink and startlingly hard as you flattened your tongue against the tip.

Hawks hissed as if you had burned him, and you quickly swallowed the bulbous head down. You bobbed carefully, letting your eyes flutter shut, and tried to focus on his girth, on watching your teeth, and not gagging when you sank down.

You definitely couldn't take all of him, but Hawks didn't seem to mind. His moans were deafening. His weaved a hand through your hair, dragging the pads of his fingers down the back of your skull and petting your hair.

"That's it - fuck - good girl-"

You spread your palms over each of his thighs and found a smooth rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, pausing occasionally to suck harshly on the tip. You had barely started, and already felt that discomfort and ache in your jaw.

Drool was leaking obscenely down the length of him that you couldn't fit. At some point, your dominant hand fled his thigh and wrapped around his shaft, right at the base, and pumped what your mouth couldn't fit, slicked by your spit.

You expected a much harsher, musky scent. However, clearly, Hawks had showered before your arrival. The slightest fragrance from a body wash lingered. His natural scent remained, ever so slightly, but was lost as you as he oozed salty precum.

"Shit - stop. 'm close," Hawks groaned, using his free hand to cup your jaw.

He pulled you off, and your mouth popped off the tip obscenely.

The protesting noise you made-

-god, that was embarrassing.

Hawks stared at you dumbly, for just a second, processing what the hell that was, before his lust-drunk brain made sense of it. Without hesitation, he pushed you back down. You swallowed his length and got back into rhythm without skipping a beat.

"You want it that bad, huh? Yeah - like my cock that much? Fuck - fuck - fine - damn brat. Want my come? Yeah - ohh - ghnn - here you fucking go-"

His cock throbbed, pressing down against your tongue before bobbing up to brush the top of your mouth. You relaxed as best you could, focusing on the obscene moans and jumbled words that poured from Hawks' mouth.

One hand was clawing gently at the back of your head, while his other curled beneath your collar and cupped your throat. It wasn't much of a grip, but you felt his palm brush your adam's apple as you swallowed. He moaned, loud and shameless, as he felt that, before choking on the following inhale.

"Don't - aghn - don't waste a fucking drop," he choked out, blissed out and struggling to keep his dom persona in check.

You whimpered, drawing in as much of his length as you could. A few more spurts startled you, and you swallowed them down with uneasy gulps. Hawks moaned like you had struck him, the sound cutting off into a staggered, broken exhale.

"Fuck - that's - hnnn-"

Hawks shifted his hand away from your throat, cupped your jaw, and carefully pulled you off. Some spit dripped nastily out of the corner of your mouth as he popped free.

"Come here - come here," he cooed, effortlessly pulling you off the ground and up into his lap.

Hawks didn't bother fixing his clothes, and you felt his wet cock touch your inner thigh as he tugged you into his chest. He kissed hungrily into your mouth, gobbling up your breathless moans.

"Good girl," he whispered between kisses, wiping away the spit with his hand. "Fuck. That felt so good."

As he kissed you, he hastily undid the latch on the collar and tossed it carefully to the ground. You went limp in his grasp, and let him lick his way into your mouth. It felt good, his taste was so, so good; but, you were too exhausted to kiss him back properly.

"-so good," he uttered, separating from your mouth, a string of saliva dangling between your lips. "You did so good."

Hawks wings spread out with a loud 'fwap', and he fell back, flat on the bed. He brought you with him, bringing your head down onto his chest. Your legs were tangled awkwardly, and you were partially on top of him. But, his hand was massaging your back, and you could hear and feel his heart beating rapidly right beneath your cheek.

It felt good, and you let yourself melt into him.

Everything was quiet for some time, outside your shared, labored breathing. His hand never stopped moving, rubbing imaginary patterns across the planes of your back.

"Thank you," Hawks breathed, and his chest shifted beneath your head as he spoke.

"Huh?" you hummed.

"This. Everything."

"I liked it, too," you replied, leaning up so you could look at his face.

He almost seemed like a completely different person outside of a scene. The sheepish look on his face was nothing like the confident, ravenous look he wore while tying you up and branding your body like his own, personal possession.

"Thanks for liking me putting a collar on you," he retorted, grumbling like a child.

You chuckled in response before laying your head back down.

"How did you get into this?" Hawks asked, his voice low, uncertain if that was inappropriate.

You answered without pause.

"The same way everyone else does, I guess," you huffed out dryly. "Starts with a boyfriend and some hand cuffs, watch some porn... and then years later, your boss is whipping you."

Hawks laughed once, like a bark, and the laughter drawled out into almost pained chuckling.

"Shit," he choked.

You joined in on his laughter, liking the way his muscled chest rippled beneath your cheek as he giggled. It was unfair, really, how cute his laughter was.

He cleared his throat suddenly, and the laughter stopped.

"I think - man, I was kinda young. I would get off thinking about... this." He lifted his free hand and gesture vaguely, while his other was still nuzzled against the bare skin of your back, fingertips dragging here and there.

"I thought I was a bad person," he continued. "When you're a kid and you like this stuff - well, it's really hard not to think of yourself as fucked up. 'What kind of hero wants to hurt someone'..."

Hawks paused to let out a long exhale.

"But, I met someone, when I was in hero training."

Somehow, you doubted Hawks wanted eye contact in that moment; so, you hummed in acknowledgement, rather than lifting your head. You placed a hand on his chest and nudged at the soft fabric of his shirt, massaging the skin underneath.

"She was older than me, experienced, taught me how to do scenes safely, the right way to deliver pain, how to listen to body language. She made me feel normal."

You doubted that you could conjure a proper image; but, in your thoughts, she was beautiful and strong, the kind of woman an amazing hero like Hawks could love.

"Is she a hero?" you dared to ask.

"She was," he answered, tone suddenly low.

You swallowed dryly, briefly fearing that you had said the wrong thing. But, Hawks kissed the top of your head and exhaled a heavy sigh that tickled your hair.

"We were never a couple. We did scenes. That was it. So, it wasn't like... -wasn't like that."

Some emotion, not quite jealously, was stirring up inside you. Hawks had said he liked strong women. You couldn't see yourself as that: not a hero, not a powerful woman who could stand alongside him.

But, nothing had been promised. You weren't dating. This was a temporary agreement for pleasure. You were always in reach, as was Hawks; the partnership was convenient and compatible.

It was silly to worry about unnecessary things.

He kissed your head again and sighed. "You're amazing," he uttered, like a deep confession. Another kiss, and then another. Eventually, you tilted your head back, eyes closed, and let him find your mouth.

"...you're amazing, Hawks," you corrected him quietly.

"Heh," he laughed, brushing off that comment. "Stay here. That ass needs some lotion."

You couldn't help but laugh as he carefully wiggled out from beneath you, his wings curling awkwardly in the process. You tried not to touch, but one brushed your side on the way up. Hawks was pulling his pants up and a feather was delivering a bottle to his hand before you could overthink that.

Chapter Text

You decided, a few weeks later, that Hawks was an evil man.

He was sitting in that arm chair, leaning back with his legs spread, chin resting in his palm, propped up by an elbow on the armrest. The ravenous look in his eyes betrayed the bored persona he was trying to give off.

He had decided to leave his jumpsuit and khakis on this time: his hero uniform. His black boots were still on his feet and he was still wearing his belt, but his jacket, gloves, elbow braces, headphones and eyeglasses had been abandoned in the living room.

When you showed up and saw him like that, you wondered if it had been a bad time, and offered to leave. He was still sweaty from whatever mission he had just completed, and clearly tired from the long flight. Had he exhausted himself to get here at the promised time to meet you?

But, despite your offer, clearly, Hawks was desperate for a distraction, and you couldn't deny that the sight of him in his hero costume did something to you.

It was tiptoeing the edge of mixing business with pleasure.

His pants were too baggy to give away the state of his arousal, but his jumpsuit was tight, and outlined his pectorals and abdominal muscles beautifully. You could see the dramatic shifting of his chest with each inhale and exhale.

Hawks wasn't exactly playing nice, not that you had the slightest complaint.

You were kneeling at his feet, torso propped upright, resting on your calves, feet curled behind you and hands on your lap, completely nude minus the crimson collar he so carefully latched around your neck.

You were trying to sit still, as he had demanded. It was difficult, considering he had carefully worked a heavily ribbed dildo into your cunt after some mindful fingering. He had used a ridiculous amount of lube, and it was dribbling messily between your legs.

As soon as you knelt down, he revealed the remote. Hawks clearly knew that the positioning had pushed the bulbous tip right to the perfect spot deep inside you. Your clenched thighs were keeping the fake cock from popping out.

It was good, really good, but not enough. You needed some friction on your clit. You needed his hands to touch you. You needed to move that damn toy. As good as the stretch and vibration was, you wanted to feel the drag and friction of the ribs along your walls, to feel the stretch every time the thick shaft worked its way back in.

"Shut up," Hawks commanded, his tone low and clearly annoyed.

Hawks could easily reach out and touch you, and he demonstrated that by fixing his posture and reaching for the leash hook on the collar. He hooked a finger through it and gave a little tug, upward, forcing your head to fall back and neck to arch.

"Poor, pathetic babybird can't handle it," he commented, as if he was talking to himself and not to you.

The pain from his shifting gave you a moment of clarity to recognize that you were whimpering faintly between your sharp inhales and hoarse exhales. He pulled the collar, up and up, before abruptly letting go, and you nearly crumbled to the floor.

"Come here," he commanded.

On your knees, of course-

-and with a weak sound, you shimmied forward, until his knees touched your ribs. Hawks might not have been as big as other pro heroes, but he felt massive in that moment.

Hawks bundled your wrists in one large hand and lifted your arms up. His wings were sprawled out behind him, long plumes flopped over the chair and dragging along the floor. You admired the beautiful shades of red as he effortlessly worked a pair of handcuffs over your wrists.

One closed with an audible tick and then the other followed. A small chain dangled between the cuffs, giving you barely any room to shift your wrists apart.

He let go, but only after placing your arms over his shoulders. You moaned loudly, right in his face, when he leaned in close. You were hoping for a kiss, and Hawks scoffed at you, his breath hot as it fluttered across your cheeks.

His dominant hand trailed down your tummy and a long finger poked between your nether lips. He dragged the pad of his finger across your bud before circling it harshly, soaking up his digit with lube and your arousal.

You cried out, head tilting back as the sharp, almost painful pleasure shot through you. With your bound arms behind him, the movement tugged Hawks forward. He hissed, and you briefly anticipated a punishment; however, instead, he tilted his head down and buried his face in your neck with a pleased grunt.

You caught a whiff of his dirty hair, something faint and metallic, likely dried blood, and something musky and dry, like crumbled asphalt. It should have been revolting, but reminded you that he had just been working.

That thought - pro hero Hawks, rushing home to play with you, his cute slave - was downright sinful.

Hawks hadn't shaved in the past couple weeks, too busy with undercover missions. As a result, his normally neatly trimmed chin hairs were messy and soft, pale-blonde stubble coated his jawline. Still, the short hairs felt nice dragging along your skin.

"Fuck, you smell so good," he growled, taking a deep inhale at your hairline, right beneath your ear.

You resisted the temptation to lean into his touch, craving more, wanting to feel his hair and the burning friction of his skin.

"Should I even let you come?" he taunted, pulling his hand back to slap his fingers against your clit.

He didn't want to hit the base of the toy and hurt you, that much was evident by his careful actions. He returned his digits immediately, despite the threat, this time rolling your bud carefully between his first and middle finger.

"I told you to be quiet; yet, you're still crying like a whore."

His free hand came up and cupped over your mouth, long fingers stretched far across your face, mindful to keep your nostrils free.

"I said, shut up," he hissed, and you bit back a mewl at his commanding voice.

He had new cuts on his hand. You could feel the rough scab of a healing wound against your lips, and swallowed the temptation to stick your tongue out and taste the salt of his skin.

Hawks kissed his own knuckles with a dramatic pop, knowing damn well that your mouth was hiding right behind them. He hadn't kissed you yet, and you swallowed a whimper that threatened to leak into his palm. The challenging look in his eyes was daring you to act out. You tried to hold his stare, eyelids fluttering as the pleasure slowly apexed.

"-thought about you while I was gone," Hawks confessed quietly.

The handcuffs rattled quietly behind him as you fidgeted.

"-tying you up."

You were panting through your nose, trying to focus on his words instead of his swift fingers and the constant contact to your gushy insides.

"-kissing those sweet lips."

You moaned into the skin of his hand.

His hand released your mouth suddenly, only for his fingers and thumb to roughly cup your face on either cheek.

"You can't take a fucking order, can you?" he hissed, leaning in so closely that his nose bumped into yours.

"-m sorry, just-" you choked out weakly.

It was hard to process properly between the harsh pinches of his fingers against your clit and the startling glare of his gold eyes.

You stared into his pupils like a mouse caught in a trap, mystified by the diamond shape. The curves of his eyelids was harsh when he glared, darkening the natural tint at the corners. This close, the human aspects of him were nearly lost.

"You want a kiss that badly?" he cooed, voice hoarse and taunting.

You gasped.

"Hm - Is that it? My poor little slave wants a kiss?"

You swallowed loudly, choking out, "y-yes, sir."

"Babybird, if you always get what you want, you'll act up," he criticized softly, like reprimanding a misbehaving child.

You thinned out your lips, drawing them inward, and inhaled sharply, wondering vaguely if you were really caught up enough in the moment to cry.

Suddenly, Hawks let go of your face and your sex. His hands grabbed at the meat of your waist and hoisted you up. The toy nearly slipped free as he propped you on his lap, sliding your thighs on either side of his.

There was plenty of room in the chair to fit the both of you comfortably, that much was immediately evident.

One of his hands reached around behind you and cupped the base of the toy. He pressed it up into you, slowly, before lowering it back down. His other hand cupped your front, and you felt a thick thumb slide down between your folds, while the rest of his hand pressed against your lower abdomen.

"Bounce."

With your wrists cuffed tightly together, you couldn't bring your arms forward to place your hands on his shoulders. You bent your arms as best you could, despite the awkward angle, and grabbed at his jumpsuit, trying to find some leverage.

It felt strange: a water and heat resistant material commonly used for hero costumes. Your bare breasts smooshed into his clothed chest, and felt the fabric there, too. Your bare thighs rubbed his lap, and felt the harsh, rough stitch of his cargo pants.

"Ride this fake fucking cock," Hawks hissed, right in your face. "That's an order."

Finally, you rolled your hips, and felt his fingers clutching the flared base, rubbing against your outer folds from the friction when you took it all in. You couldn't help but cry out at that.

"Come for me, and I'll kiss you," he added on, sweetly this time.

His lips moved over the skin of your cheek as he spoke, and his facial hair tickled you.

"I missed the cute face you make when you come-"

You shifted your positioning, wiggling in his lap, and when you sank back down, you cried out, finally getting the angle right. Hawks didn't move a damn muscle as you bounced on that dildo, meeting the base every time.

In some distant part of your mind, you were annoyed that it wasn't his cock. A fear bubbled up, that he simply didn't want to fuck you. But, just as that surfaced, you realized that Hawks was lifting his hips, and pressing something hard into the skin where your thigh met your crotch, meeting your movements unconsciously.

"P-please, sir-"

"No," he retorted sharply, smooth and harsh like bound leather.

Your head fell back as the pleasure became boiling. Despite how badly you wanted more, you knew you were close. The trembling in your thighs told Hawks much the same.

His face lowered and you felt the burning drag of his facial hair against the skin on your chest.

You were vaguely aware of the nonsensical noises spewing from your lips, more so focused on him, on the man beneath you, on the powerful vibrations rattling your core and his calloused finger circling your sensitive clit.

"Come on, baby, come for me," he whispered harshly into the swell of your breast.

You winced when something sharp and painful dug into the swell of your breast. Your mind provided the obvious answer, that Hawks had bit you there. He was hardly restrained in that, undoubtedly leaving a mark. He growled into your skin and-

-with a sharp cry, you came, trembling above him. Your head fell forward, slouched over his head that was cradled in your chest. You felt more so than heard his approving moan, and sharply inhaled his musk and the scent of debris wafting off his messy hair.

As soon as your orgasm waned, Hawks carefully removed his teeth from your skin. He slid the toy out, slowly, before carelessly dropping it to the floor between his feet. He fished the remote out of the edge of the armchair and flicked the switch off before dropping that, as well.

One hand cupped your elbow and carefully pushed your arms up and over his head. You looked down as he brought your bound wrists inbetween your bodies, and caught a glimpse at the bite mark on your breast. It was bright red, deeply indented, though not bleeding, and was most certainly going to bruise.

You almost begged him for more; but, at this angle, you could feel his need pressing into you, and that took precedence.

"Please-" you whimpered.

"Shhh. Come here, beautiful," Hawks cooed, silencing your whimpers with a kiss.

While you absolutely wanted that, and the shameful moan you released made that much more obvious, you had been pleading for something else. His arousal was stabbing you in the thigh, and while it was uncomfortable, you were more interested in taking care of it.

You sincerely doubted you ever wanted to please any dom more than you did Hawks.

But, in that moment, he was focused on kissing you. They were more passionate and breathtaking than they were ravenous. You were panting against him like a rabid dog, bound wrists holding your hands together that were desperately clawing at his jumpsuit where it clung to his chest.

You didn't dare pull away or ruin that kiss, despite the insane urge to touch his cock, to sink to the ground and beg him to let you suck it, to plead for your master to finally fuck you.

Even when you were sufficiently melted into his lips, drowning in the kiss and taste of his salty skin, unbothered by how chapped they were, you still dwindled on the thought of pleasuring him, of hearing him moan and bringing him to the peak of ecstasy.

Eventually, Hawks finally pulled away from the kiss with a gruff sigh. His wings flexed behind him, flopped over the back of the chair, and he leaned back until he was arched away from you, leaving you perched in his lap.

Immediately, you began clawing at his belt, undoing the clasp with trembling fingers.

"Please - please let me-" you whined.

Hawks sighed as you worked his belt open, like he was preparing to criticize you. You roughly dragged his pants down and swallowed dryly at the sight of a well placed zipper hidden in the fabric. That was easy to undo, but his cock was trapped down the leg of his jumpsuit.

If he wasn't throbbing, begging for release, Hawks would have laughed at the sight of you nudging it to the open seam, with your hands cuffed together no less, the chain between the cuffs rattling noisily.

Any contemplation for laughter died when you effortlessly slid off his lap and onto the floor with a thump, knees hitting the space between his feet.

"Hey, now-"

Hawks' protest died when you shifted his cock and it popped free from his jumpsuit. Immediately you drew the tip past your lips. You bobbed your head halfway, cupping his shaft with one of your hands. The moan he made was shameful.

"Ohhh - fuck," he groaned, head falling back and hitting the edge of the chair with a loud thump.

"Babybird, fuck. I didn't say you coul-" he chanted, too lost in the pleasure to try and stop you. "Damn it. Fuck, that feels so good. Ahnn - fucking slut couldn't wait to taste my - mmm-"

You felt his thighs trembling on either side of you, heard the sound of his boot-clad feet digging into the floor as he fidgeted. His hands were tightly gripping the edges of the seat, too afraid he would hurt you if he touched you right now.

You sank down just a little too low, spurred on by the sounds he was making, and gagged a little before reeling back up. The spasm dragged the roof of your mouth along his tip, as if the sound wasn't arousing enough. He wanted to tease you for that, for being so desperate to suck his cock that you choked on it; but, then, you sank back down and the tension got the better of him.

Between your mouth and palm, slobbering all over him and working feverishly over his burning arousal-

-he didn't stand a chance.

Hawks tore your mouth away with a rough grip on your hair. Of all things, it was the pained whimper you made that got him there.

You felt his shaft throb in your palm, as if reminding you to keep stroking. You didn't falter, and felt it throb again before his seed burst out the tip, and Hawks came with a roar. You looked up at the pinched expression on his face, and soaked in the sight of his reddened cheeks and ears, pleasure etched across his closed eyes.

His release shot out over his jumpsuit, painting his tummy in white, and a good chunk of it coated your hand. His hips lifted, bucking into your hand, riding out the waves until the pleasure died down and he sank into the chair, boneless.

Hawks didn't wait long to sit up and remove your hand from his cock with a firm grip at the forearm. He looked disappointed as he stared down at you; shamefully, you realized you had downright whimpered at that look.

"I-I wanted to-" you whined.

"Babybird," Hawks interrupted you firmly.

Disappointed, indeed.

"I've allowed you to argue and fuss - let you get away with that. But, I won't tolerate it anymore. The next time you disobey, talk back to me, or fucking breathe without permission, I'll give you a real punishment - the kind you don't want. Do you understand?"

You blinked at him, trying to remind yourself this was an act; yet, still deep in that headspace, you felt a wallowing of guilt build up and shame blossomed over your face. You swallowed loudly, eyes wide and glistening you stared up at him.

"Y-yes, sir," you whispered.

"Again. Do you understand?" he uttered, low and almost frightening.

Almost.

"I understand, sir," you weakly uttered back.

"Good. Now-" Hawks paused and pushed your hands in towards your face. Your eyes shifted away from his stare and to your hand, the very one you had stroked him off with.

"-clean up the mess you made."

Your eyes flickered back up to his, and caught the slightest hesitation in his eyes, a look of trust, that you could safe word out if you needed to.

Ensuring you were making eye, you leaned in and sucked two of your fingers into your mouth, lapping up most of his seed.

His taste was salty, of course, but with an unexpected tang that left you longing. Your fingers popped free with a wet sound and you followed along your knuckles, tongue dragging sloppily to clean up the mess.

Hawks groaned at the sight, his gaze unblinking and smoldering.

"Good girl," he praised.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a soft moan as your tongue returned to your mouth.

"Good girl," again, and he leaned in and pecked a soft kiss at your forehead.

He kissed over your cheeks before capturing your lips again. You were startled by the sudden intrusion of his tongue, surprised that he didn't mind the taste of himself mingled with yours. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the knowledge of where that dirty mouth had just been.

After a short while, he removed his lips and tongue with a deep exhale.

Hawks removed the handcuffs with haste, dropping them to the floor, before unclasping your collar. That, he flung to the bed, before rising to his feet. You squeaked when Hawks effortlessly scooped you up, one arm cradling your back while the other hooked beneath your legs.

You expected the bed, but was surprised when he started for the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" he cooed at your temple.

"Yes," you replied, knowing the scene was over.

"About what I said-"

"Don't," you interrupted him gently. "It was great."

Hawks set you down carefully at the edge of the shower, watching you fall onto wobbly toes. His hands lingered until you gently pushed them away with a soft smile, assuring him you could stand.

He made quirk work of his jumpsuit, unzipping the back noisily, and you watched in awe as his wings flexed in, feathers trembling, as he pulled it through the wing holes before shoving the material down to his waist. Hawks' belt hit the floor with a loud clank before he toed out of his boots, the shoestrings tugged loose by his feathers.

Everything hit the tile, and you couldn't help but stare, seeing him properly nude for the first time. The rest of him was a little paler than his sun-kissed cheeks, and light blonde hairs dusted the center of his chest and abdomen. There was some scars scattered here and there, mostly faded. He had a dime-sized freckle on his shoulder, and few others decorating his tummy.

When his eyes returned to yours, surprisingly, Hawks looked almost embarrassed at the staring. It had probably been awhile since he was properly nude in front of someone; yet, you couldn't help it.

He was beautiful.

The shower was massive, as expected to accommodate Hawks' wingspan, with a large stool in the center. You sat down while Hawks started the bathtub around the corner. He came back just as you fished the showerhead off the wall.

He took it from you and started the faucet, testing the temperature on his hand.

"Hawks-" you laughed.

He interrupted you quietly with your own name - your first name, you realized. He always called you by your last name, and despite all you had done together, you still smacked your mouth shut at the intimacy, starstruck.

He started the showerhead at your shoulder, letting you adjust to the warmth, before slowly reaching over the top of your head, giving you time to close your eyes.

Eyes closed, and focused on the running water, you were startled by the sudden sensation of his lips against yours, and twitched a little against him.

Hawks chuckled, leaned back and moved the water over himself.

"I'm glad you were here," he commented. Even softly, his voice was so loud in the shower.

He turned off the showerhead and returned it to the hook; instead of handing you the soap, he dispensed a dollop onto his palm and worked it over your body with his own hands.

"Was it a bad mission?" you hummed, debating on protesting to his touch. However, when his large, scabbed hands smoothed over your back, you decided against it, and soaked up the attention with a pleased mewl.

"Yes," he answered plainly, trusting you wouldn't pester.

There was no point. You would see the report Monday morning.

"Hawks, you know you can call me anytime?" you offered softly.

Of course, it wasn't one sided, and he knew that. This agreement was mutual, two halves of the same desire, opposite ends, that worked in harmony.

More body wash was deposited into his hand; however, you smacked your palm over his, dragging to steal the soap, and smeared it across his chest before he could question. He laughed, briefly, but the sound died out when your hands, slippery and soapy, ran down the length of his arms.

His wings jutted out on reflex, and you briefly wondered if you had overstepped a boundary; but, Hawks' eyes were distant, and his muscles were relaxed. You overthought every scar, every bump, that your hands traced, and was extra careful to only touch his lower back, far from the junctions of his wings.

"What about the bath?" you blurted, seeing as he had left it unattended.

"-'s got a sensor," Hawks answered distantly.

You snorted. Of course it did.

After a rinsing off the soap, and briefly fighting over the showerhead, Hawks tugged you to the tub. Of course, it was massive; but, that didn't stop you from staring like a moron. The shape was rounded, with an imprint in the side to make it easier to sit, and a large outer perimeter for-

-well, his wings.

A layer of foam and bubbles floated on the surface, wafting a smell of lavender and sandalwood. It was hard to imagine Hawks doing this alone, and you nearly asked him if he went out and bought this for you.

Hawks helped you step into the water before climbing in himself. However, he immediately tugged you into his arms, as if you were going to drown if he didn't prop you up. His wings jutted out above the surface, the lower ends poking at the water, and spread out over the edges of the tub.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing? -overstaying my welcome or - I mean, you don't have to do all this," you babbled.

"-was worried I was harsh today," he uttered quietly, his eyes taking you in like a sad puppy.

"I like when you're harsh," you answered. "I worry that you don't take enough - that I'm getting everything while you-"

Hawks chuckled and you stopped yourself.

"Is it cuz we haven't-"

"-not entirely," you protested softly.

The last thing you wanted was to pressure him. If that wasn't on the table, he didn't owe you an explanation.

"Just getting to play with you does it for me. Haven't even scratched the surface of-... of the things I wanna do to you," Hawks spoke softly, encircling his hand around your bicep in a gentle hold.

"It's not that I haven't thought about it," he continued, his gaze flickering from your eyes to the wall.

"It changes things."

Your hand sank at his words, wondering if that meant, 'it makes things personal'. Maybe he was right, and you were unconsciously tugging at something he wasn't comfortable with providing.

"Hawks, you don't have to explain your boundaries. It's okay," you cooed, curling a hand over his shoulder.

His wings jerked, likely unconsciously, and splashed some water around. You took in the sight of his hair wet and slicked back, some unruly, short strands clinging to his forehead, and tried to write it to memory.

He let go of your bicep, and moved that hand to caress the side of your neck. His eyes finally returned to yours, bright as the sun.

"You did so good today," Hawks praised, his thumb gliding over your cheek.

"So did you," you retorted gently, dragging a hand along the surface of the water to smear bubbles over his chest.

His forehead gently collided with your cheek and a sigh breathed out against your skin. You shifted your hands over his shoulders, selfishly feeling up the firm muscles there, and stared at his wings in awe. This close, you could see the way the light illuminated the crimson shades and how each individual plume shifted subtly, independent of one and other. Hawks dragged his chin along your shoulder, and his short beard hairs tickled your skin.

"Are you hungry?"

You smiled.

"Absolutely."

Chapter Text

The thing was-

Hawks knew that it looked like he got nothing out of this, being the primary giver and lavishing you with attention, as much as his hands and mouth could deliver, even throwing in the occasional feather when he was in the mood for it.

But, the truth was, he felt spoiled when he got to see you like this.

“What do you say?” Hawks whispered harshly, hot breath fanning the expansion of your neck.

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, not that Hawks gave you much time to do so, he reeled his hand back, and delivered it, open palmed, onto your bare ass cheek. The skin on skin contact resulted in a loud smack that echoed in the space around you.

You cried out with a jolt as pain danced across your skin. Over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the evil grin he was wearing. Your eyes trailed up, seeking out his gold orbs. You had seen them several times by now; but, you doubted you would ever get over the way his pupils narrowed into slits when he played with you, like a hungry animal on the prowl.

You had showed up to Hawks’ apartment in a skirt today - the kind not the least bit suitable for work, but perfectly suitable for public, and not at all what you would consider indecent-

-and it was the best idea you’d ever had.

Hawks completely bypassed the bedroom and any other formalities, dragging you by your elbow to the kitchen like a man possessed. There was something startingly arousing about the way he yanked you through the apartment, staring hungrily at your bare legs.

He had asked for your color before a heavy hand bent you over the counter top while the other flipped up your skirt.

You had lost track of time after that, lost on the feeling of his fingers dragging in and out of your cunt while a feather pulsed at your pearl like a weak heartbeat. Your underwear and modesty shorts had been yanked down long ago and were still hooked on one of your ankles.

“Say ‘thank you, sir’,” he instructed in a dangerous growl.

He spanked you again, and again, and again, progressively harder and harder, until your skin was striking red and he finally stopped.

Your face was resting on the granite, cheek and chest flush with the hard material. Your hands were tied behind you at your lower back by something that felt very much like a satin tie, not that you got a look at it. Your shirt was disheveled a bit, just enough that he could gnaw at your neck.

You couldn’t turn your head enough to be able to look at his face properly, unless he leaned close enough; but, the sight of his wings behind you was enough to ease any discomfort at the lack of intimacy.

Suddenly, his lips were touching your ear, tickling with soft bites and smooth lips; you unconsciously flinched away.

With a snarl, he spanked you again, earning a startled cry.

“Say 'thank you, sir’,” again, in that dangerous tone, he demanded.

You resisted, drawing your bottom lip beneath your upper teeth. Hawks growled and slapped your ass again. You gasped, the sound breaking off into a choked breath when he smacked you again. His hand came back gently after that, long fingers stretched over your plump flesh while his palm settled over the flaring, tender skin.

His teeth grazed your throat in what you perceived as a warning.

Some dark, distant part of your mind told you to mouth off and get a taste of that punishment he claimed you wouldn’t want. You wanted to know what he was like when you disobeyed.

Brief mental images flashed through your mind; but, as curious as you were, you knew better. It would be best if you discussed it first, and it would be unfair to give him whiplash like that.

So, you surrendered, moaning out, “thank you, sir.”

“Was that so hard?” he cooed, like he was reprimanding a child.

His fingers, that you had nearly forgotten about, suddenly were pulled out of your heated sex. You cried - actually sobbed, loudly - in protest.

Hawks laughed, like some kind of villain.

He planted that hand, fingers wet with your arousal, over the curve of your other ass cheek. His hands kneaded the flesh for a brief moment, thumbs digging into the space between. You only realized he had dropped to his knees when you felt a sloppy, wet tongue breach your entrance with no preamble.

You trembled on the counter top, sobbing at his assault. One of his hands let go of your ass, and you heard the snap of elastic before he moaned into your heated flesh. You couldn’t turn enough to get a look, but heard and saw Hawks’ wings faintly beat the air.

He lapped his tongue over your clit before slipping right back into your hot core. He moved it obscenely, sloppy drags over your folds and pressing hard against your walls.

You couldn’t, though you tried, turn enough to get a good look at him; but, you shifted one of your legs, just enough to brush him arm. Your calf touched his forearm and felt an unmistakable movement, giving away his actions.

“No - no - please. I want to-” you whimpered, breaking off into a wail when he used his free hand to spank you again.

He pulled away just long enough to snarl, “bad girls don’t get cock.”

“I’ll be good!” you protested in a sharp cry.

Hawks’ tongue returned to your sex. He didn’t verbally respond that time; but, you felt the way his hand squeezed your flesh, and you wondered if that was a good sign to continue.

“Haw - s-sir, please! Please let me suck your - agn-!”

Your weak protesting was rewarded - or punished, you weren’t sure - with intensified movement by his feather. It was a smaller plume, yet as strong as one of his fingers, and pinched perfectly at your swollen bud. Your legs trembled, struggling to stay open. Hawks’ firm hand on your ass squeezed in warning.

“I wa-ant to make you f-feel good-”

A vibration carried from Hawks’ mouth onto your skin. He shifted his free hand and dragged the pad of his thumb over your asshole, earning an undignified squeal from you in response. He laughed at that, right into your sex, just the briefest pause before he continued the movements of his tongue.

It was too dry to enter properly, so Hawks just circled the puckered rim, pressing down on occasion to tease the tight flesh apart. That was electrifying enough, and had your knees threatening to give out, wobbling weakly.

You didn’t really want him to stop; but, you had a feeling you would get a good rise out of him if you protested.

“N-not there - sir, don’t - it’s dirt-”

Hawks pulled back with a displeased grunt, and stopped the movements of his feather. You had barely a second to breathe before he pressed his thumb down, just enough to breach the tight ring of muscle and enter scorching heat.

“Don’t tell me where I can and can’t touch you,” he snarled, turning his head to burry his teeth into the meat of your inner thigh.

Fuck-

-that hurt, and you screamed, body jolting at the sudden burst of pain; but, that was exactly the response you wanted, a punishment and some harsh words. He grunted into your skin before pulling back, dripping saliva all over the reddened skin and down your leg.

“Know your fucking place,” he spat venomously.

You shuddered at that, gasping out a mewl when he pulled his thumb back to the surface. He circled the ring again and pressed down when you mewled at the pleasant sensation, cutting you off.

“I’m waiting, babybird,” followed in that dark, expecting tone.

“I’m sorry,” you panted. “I’m sorry. You can-” You paused to swallow loudly. “-t-touch me wherever you want.”

“Why is that?” Hawks asked, condescending.

“B-because, I’m yours,” you exhaled heavily.

“That’s right,” he cooed, leaning in to kiss at your sex like he would your face, lapping gentle licks with his tongue in between soft kisses.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, wiggling at his touch. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hawks pulled back and shifted his hand away from your other hole, dragging his index and middle fingers through the mess of slick and saliva coating your folds. He gently pressed them inside your womanhood, just as the feather curled at your pearl began to tremble.

He kissed at the rapidly-fading bite mark on your thigh as he began drilling his digits. The wet slick sound of your sex was embarrassingly loud, and your moans barely managed to mask the noise.

Soon, he had a steady rhythm going, the glide so wet and seamless that his knuckles slapped against your folds. Your legs were trembling, struggling to stay up on your toes to keep the angle perfect.

“Don’t ever tell me I can’t touch you,” Hawks uttered, a warning, and you shuddered at his tone. “You’re so beautiful, so delicious, every-fucking-where.”

That compliment had your head spinning.

As if to prove a point, Hawks shifted, and you felt what couldn’t be anything other than his tongue drag over your other hole. You flinched so hard that your head lightly smacked the countertop.

He circled the tight ring of muscle, lavishing it much the same as he had your pussy. You cried out when he pushed in, breaching tight walls. A curious, wandering finger was quite different than his damn tongue. It was wet and slippery and so, so strange, yet somehow amazing.

There was pressure everywhere, different sensations melting together until you could hardly distinguish one source from another.

“C-can I - ahh - come?” you whined, shrill and undignified.

Tears stung at your eyes at the intensity. Hawks didn’t slow down or falter. It was going to happen whether he said it was okay or not. But, it still felt good to hear him allow it.

“Yes. You can come.”

The ringing in your ears drowned out whatever noises you had made. You trembled against the counter and Hawks was unrelenting until the very end. You came back down to Earth at the feeling of his lips pressing gentle kisses into your bruised ass cheeks.

He was patient, waiting for you to calm, before he stood up. His hands cupped your arms and carefully pulled you off the counter. Your hair was a mess, and some saliva stained your chin. But, you were excited when you turned and saw that his expression was still serious.

The scene wasn’t over yet.

You kept your eyes trained on his, even when he carefully nudged you to your knees on the floor. It was a little difficult with your arms bound behind your back, but Hawks was patient and lowered you slowly.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, making a show of pressing his hand against his stomach and dragging his shirt up, fingers spread wide over the fabric.

Your eyes swept down the expansion of pale skin dusted with light blonde hairs over an assortment of toned muscle. You glanced over scars and some bruises that were likely only a few days old.

He had lowered the elastic band of his lounge pants beneath his sack. His hard cock was drooping forward, an angry shade of red and wet on the tip, a thick vein pulsing on the underside, and practically begging to be touched.

Carefully, you shifted forward, legs swiveling to carry you on your knees closer, and you pressed a kiss against the bruise on his hip bone. Your eyes had fluttered shut, allowing you to absorb the way he sucked in a harsh breath.

His free hand came forward, and he dragged his knuckles over your cheek like he was appraising something he owned. He wiped away the saliva drying on your chin, briefly teasing your bottom lip before he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back.

When you looked up at him, he was wearing a slight frown, pupils narrowed and eyes bright, gold glowing beneath the shadows casted across his face by the angle in which he was peering down at you. His wings were curved forward slightly, almost framing him, the upper bends flexed out wide past his shoulders.

“I moved you. I expect a color, babybird,” he whispered hoarsely in a serious tone.

“Green,” you replied sharply.

Your eyes swept over the arm bent at his torso, holding his shirt up, and briefly took in the prominent veins bulging at the back of his hand. He had a cut across the curve of his forearm, mostly healed over but still quite red.

“You look good down there. Beneath me, on your knees… where you belong,” Hawks uttered, tilting his head a little as if to patronize you.

A small sound escaped you, and Hawks’ lips twitched, threatening to break into a smile; but, he held it back, keeping that stoic, unimpressed look that left you dizzy and desperate to please him.

“You wanted this so bad: go on, then.”

Your eyes shifted back to his core and you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock before dipping your head down. His length brushed your cheek as you mouthed at the sack beneath it. The hair there was soft and smelt faintly of soap, telling you he had showered right before your arrival.

Hawks grunted disapprovingly and you pressed harder, disobediently, mouthing at the firm bulb of one of his balls in something resembling a kiss.

But, then, you felt a patronizing slap against your cheek with a very careful, gentle hand. It was only three of his fingers, but it caught your attention like an electric shock, and your eyes shot up to his face.

“Do I have to give you instructions?” he asked.

You swallowed dryly, feeling a pang of arousal in your core.

Deciding not to push your luck this time, spurred on by the dangerous look in his eyes, and maybe just a little bit guilt-ridden at the very obvious state of his arousal, you leaned back.

You dragged your tongue over the tip, trying to make a show of it, and hoping the view was nice. Hawks’ eyes flickered shut for a second and his jaw tightened as he watched. Carefully, you slotted your mouth over his tip.

It was difficult to stabilize without your hands and you shamefully couldn’t take much of him. However, the way Hawks moaned as you sank down suggested he wasn’t at all displeased.

“Good girl,” he cooed, breathless.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you soaked up the praise with a pleased hum. You tried to take more of him each time you sank back down, adjusting the positioning of your head and hoping to find the right angle. But, alas, you could barely take half.

“So good to me,” he praised, pushing your hair out of your face.

His hand curled around the back of your head, the lower half of his hand cupping your neck. You froze up, fearing he was going to grab you and force you down. Feeling the sudden stiffen of your muscles, Hawks immediately shifted his hand to your cheek and pushed you off his length.

“Do you need to stop?” he asked, the intensity of his voice still present, but more gentle.

“N-no. I just - I’m fine-” you stammered away.

“Babybird, tell me,” he uttered, in that sultry, dark tone that left no room for argument. It wasn’t cold or upset. It was commanding in a gentle, caring sort of way.

You were helpless to do anything but confess.

“I thought you were - were gonna push me down. It made me nervous,” you admitted, focusing your gaze on his abs, too afraid to peer up at his face.

He had a light purple bruise by his belly button. It wasn’t easy to imagine a villain getting the jump on him; but, it made you want to kiss it better.

“I won’t,” he promised in a tone that was not the slightest bit irritated or displeased.

“We can stop,” he added on sharply.

“No. I want to make you come,” you protested softly.

“ Are you-…”

'Sure’ is what you were certain he was going to say. But, maybe Hawks knew that you were just a little tired of that.

He sighed hoarsely. “Okay - okay. Color?” he requested, fingertips moving along your hairline.

You exhaled softly, basking in the feel of his callouses dragging along your skin. You tilted your head back and sighed again when he moved his hand around to cup your cheek.

His palm was warm, a little rough. You hadn’t been doing this together for very long; yet, his touch felt familiar.

-and safe.

“Green,” you murmured, tilting your head into his touch like a cat.

Hawks exhaled slowly and weaved his hand through your hair and over the back of your head. His thumb traced the skin behind your ear before joining the rest of his hand in your hair.

“Then, show me how much you love my cock.”

You leaned in, deciding to fulfill a fantasy before returning to his need. You dragged your tongue over the expansion of muscles over his abdomen and basked in the low hiss he exhaled.

It was probably intended to be a warning sound.

His cock throbbed against your cheek as you moved back down, lapping pre-come off the slit before carefully slotting your mouth over the length of him.

“That’s it.”

As promised, Hawks’ hand didn’t move you. He had a grip on your hair, just enough to ground him, but not enough to hinder your movements. Occasionally, you felt his fingernails bite into your skin. But, it was more thrilling than it was concerning.

You could do a better job with your hands in aid; but, he was enjoying the view just a little too much to free you. Your arms bent back and bound forced your spine to arch and he could see the way your hands twitched desperately, seeking escape.

He hadn’t even considered forcing you down until you voiced the worry yourself. Watching you lean forward and desperately try to get your mouth on him was more than enough: seeing you bob your head eagerly and try to swallow as much as you could, humming over his length every time he praised you.

It was the want, the need, the desperation, all for him, that was thrilling.

“-m close,” he warned in a sudden, harsh exhale.

You hummed in acknowledgement and continued bobbing your head, trying to stay composed when his tip brushed just a little too deep.

“You want it in your mouth, you dirty little thing,” he observed, his grip on your hair tightening.

Hawks babbled on breathlessly, “never - fucking - get tired of that cute little mouth of yours. Trying so hard to take my cock - fuck. God, look at you - feels so fucking good - ahnn-”

His shaft twitched against your gummy walls and he let out a low groan, the last bit of warning you got. His grip on your head was suddenly gone and you heard Hawks’ hand smack onto the counter. He gripped the edge harshly, unconsciously shifting his hips a little to chase that pleasure.

You lulled your jaw as much as you could, feeling him throb again before come spurted out the tip. His hips pushed forward unconsciously, but you managed to remain calm, focused on swallowing his load in time with the spurts.

The taste wasn’t lost on you, just a little tangy and almost sweet, startlingly warm. His thighs trembled, carrying along his body in a full shudder; but, his feet remained firmly planted on the floor.

As soon as he was done, Hawks cupped your cheek and carefully pulled you off. He was still hard, glistening wet with your saliva, and dribbling a glob of come that clung to the tip. His panting was loud and you could see his chest moving rapidly in your peripheral.

You leaned back in and lapped your tongue at the tip to clean him off properly. The tang was heavier now and you were almost embarrassed at how much you liked it.

The startled yelp Hawks released melted away any shame. You drew him back in, sinking halfway down and relishing the broken moan he made. It cut off into a hoarse hiccup. The hand cupping your cheek slid down and cupped the side of your neck.

“-fucking hell,” he hissed, thumb nudging at the edge of your lips.

You leaned back, freeing his cock with a sloppy slurp and peered up to see Hawks’ head tilted back. You looked over the curve of his neck, the prominent bulge of his adam’s apple, watched it bob as he swallowed. There was a dusting of short hairs along his jawline, pale blonde and prickly.

His wings were stretched out, one awkwardly curled against the island and the other jutted against the cabinets on the other side. The kitchen was big, but not big enough to support his wingspan, and it looked a little uncomfortable.

He drew his wings in with a sudden flex. The appendages trembled briefly, feathers bristled, before softening and curling in elegantly against his back. A stray feather whipped through the velvet bindings between your wrists, freeing you effortlessly.

A large hand smoothed over your head in a condescending way, fingers gently dragging through your hair. You lifted sore arms and carefully tucked his testicles and cock back into his pants, adjusting the hem until it looked comfortable.

Hawks let go of his shirt, and suddenly both hands were on you. He knelt down and pulled you up by your waist. His arms trapped you against his larger frame and lips suddenly descended upon yours feverishly.

You were helpless to resist, not that you had any desire to. His needy kisses were a barrage of wet smacks against your face and your hands clung to his shoulders. Each other’s essences mingled on your tongues, becoming one in your mouth.

He leaned back after some time and pressed his forehead against yours, stretching his hands wide against the lower curve of your back. Hawks let out a deep-rooted sigh and leaned into you, holding your boneless frame against his.

“You’re so good to me,” he uttered, warm breath fanning your face.

You hummed disagreeingly, and Hawks chuffed hoarsely, as if insulted.

“You spoil me,” you retorted smoothly.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Hawks cooed between sloppy kisses. “I just got my life sucked out through my dick.”

“Charming,” you laughed.

“I - ugh - I like your skirt,” he offered in something that you assumed was supposed to be an apology for the location and suddenness.

“Thanks,” you snorted.

Hawks stepped back and your hands fell onto his shoulders for balance as he knelt down. He worked your underwear off your ankle, looking laughably sheepish as he stood up, holding the garments in his hand.

“I should lotion that,” he suggested, tilting his head a little to the side.

A few minutes later and some awkward shuffling around, Hawks was sitting on the couch, and you were sprawled across his lap, on your front, chest in the cushions, legs stretched out, and skirt flipped up, bare ass exposed to his living room.

You were leaning up on your elbows, torso twisted to stare at the TV while Hawks delicately massaged a cool lotion onto your sore ass cheeks as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You actually watch th-?” he asked, immediately silenced by your sharp shooshing.

“It’s good!” you defended.

Hawks was a hero, so murder mystery dramas were likely not his thing. It was understandable, seeing as he almost lived that life, and didn’t need it dramatized for entertainment. However, a few commercial breaks later, it was clear that the man was more invested than he cared to admit.

“How did you know it was her?” he gawked, as if annoyed that you had figured it out before him.

“She didn’t know he changed the will - come on, money’s the oldest reason,” you answered with a laugh.

Hawks waited until your skin was mostly dry to flip your skirt back over and offered you your underwear. He looked like an annoyed child as he watched you put them back on, a heavy frown on his lips and disappointment in his eyes. Really, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you need to leave?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I thought you-” you began, trailing off as you wondered if that was an invitation.

“I’m not done,” Hawks added on quickly, insistently.

His hands grabbed at your waist and tugged you back onto the couch; he laughed at the startled yelp you squeaked out.

You had watched an episode of your favorite show together, and he yapped through the whole thing, massaging oil into the skin he had beaten red; he was most certainly was done, but-

“I’m not in a hurry,” you answered quietly, leaning into his side.

“I can order takeout?” he offered, sounding distant and nervous.

Aftercare… It was just a part of aftercare.

“Is it chicken?”

“You know me so well.”

Chapter Text

Hawks didn't stop by the office the following week, or the week after that. Normally, you would have assumed he was coming in late after everyone had already left; but, in this case, you knew he hadn't because the pile of paperwork on his desk was undisturbed and ever growing.

Even when he was taking missions back to back, he still found time to stop by the office, at least briefly enough to acknowledge pressing matters. He hadn't answered any emails and none of the sidekicks had seen him recently, either.

You knew the Hero Commission was still in touch with him because none of the board members came around to demand information, as they enjoyed doing when he was in-between missions. So, at the least, you knew Hawks wasn't missing in action.

Monday on week three rolled by, and you tried not to let it be a distraction to your ever growing list of things to worry about. Hawks was a busy and well sought after hero, after all. Worrying about him wouldn't do anyone any good.

Thursday night, you stayed late to cover a damage dispute with a construction company, an accidental building collapse caused by one of the sidekicks. Of course the business was mad; but, no one was hurt, and that was what mattered most to you. Paperwork was easier and no lawyers needed to be involved.

You were focused on your monitor, and didn't turn your head when the elevatored dinged. Either way, you wouldn't have thought anything of it. Hawks didn't use the front door or take the elevator. He didn't need to when he could fly in through the window in his office.

Whoever they were, their footsteps stopped near your desk. You turned your head, expecting to wave off a sidekick, and was met with Hawks' handsome face.

He was wearing civilian clothes, aviator sunglasses propped up on his forehead and a heavy black jacket over a grey T-shirt. A prominent tan line was etched over his face, a pale outline where his visor usually rested. His chin hairs were neatly trimmed and he had a dark bruise healing on his jaw. You couldn't see his wings over his shoulders.

"Hawks-"

"Hey-"

You greeted each other in unison.

"Uhm-" you stammered.

"Mountain of paperwork. I know," he proclaimed, stepping past your desk and waving at you over his shoulder.

You stood up in a haste to watch him retreat, mainly to get a better look at him. You could just barely see some feathers peaking through the large folds in the back of his jacket.

He had exhausted his feathers enough that he was grounded. It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last; but, it was still a startling sight.

You sighed heavily and plopped back down in your desk, figuring you should focus on the reason you were staying late.

Maybe thirty minutes passed, and you had just completed the damaged property report, when you noticed an email from Hawks asking you to come into his office to verify a document, from just a couple minutes ago.

With haste, you smoothed out your skirt and trotted into his office. The door was open when you walked in, so you left it that way. Hawks was hunched over his desk, about halfway through the paperwork you had left for him.

As you stepped in, he eyed your skirt with a raised brow.

"Oh. There was a meeting today. I wanted to look nice for the lawyers," you answered his curiosity, the slight edge in your tone suggesting you weren't particularly proud of it.

"Shit. Should I have been here?" he asked hoarsely.

"No. I handled it."

"That's not what I meant," he protested softly.

You frowned at him, realizing he interpreted that as you suggesting he was doubting your abilities.

"I know you didn't," you answered, softening your tone. "I just mean - you don't need to worry about those things. That's what I'm here for. I also made sure all the reports got to the commissioner and all the insurance claims were filed. Other than those, it wasn't too bad while you were away."

"Thank you," Hawks sighed, sincere, and clearly tired.

"You should head home. Worry about this tomorrow?" you suggested softly, standing close to his desk.

Hawks swiveled his chair a little to look at you more directly.

"I could tell you the same thing," he laughed.

"I didn't just get back from saving people," you retorted gently.

Hawks' smile melted into a frown, leading you to wonder if the mission had gone poorly. He was really good at villain takedowns, and probably did that as often as he handled search and rescues. Only Almight and Endeavor topped his arrests, as expected.

Still, you knew that Hawks didn't like openly discussing that, not with you, anyway. It didn't seem that he was ashamed of it, more that he just didn't want you involved in that side of heroism, at least not anymore than you already were.

Your quirk wasn't suited for this sort of thing, and you had a business major. It was really just a fluke, or lucky coincidence, that you ended up with this opportunity to begin with. Your small legal background might have helped; but, really, you had no proper experience to justify this position in the hero field.

"Is there... actually a document you need me to verify?" you asked carefully.

"No," he answered immediately in a low whisper. "I wanted to check in on you and... ask you about tomorrow."

If the bruise on his face and lack of feathers was anything to go by, Hawks was likely recovering from an injury. You wanted to press him about it, tell him to take it easy and heal. But, Hawks didn't do rest, or slow down, and you doubted he would even listen.

"I know it's sudden," he continued at your long silence, a reassuring smile surfacing. "You can turn me down."

"I'm just worried that you're injured," you huffed.

"Heh," Hawks laughed out a dry sigh. "I have stitches on my side," he explained, gesturing with his left hand at the bend of his torso. "Other than that, didn't hurt anything too bad. Maybe my dignity. I kind'a fell."

He laughed at the horrified expression you made.

"What - how far?" you wheezed.

"Not that bad! Overused my feathers in a tight space, lost my balance - ugh, two or three floors, I think?"

"Hawks!" you screeched in shock.

He had fallen two or three floors and was not only walking around, but asking for a bootycall. Clearly, the look on your face conveyed your emotions perfectly, for Hawks laughed a bit more as if there was nothing alarming about it.

His office was positioned in a way that resulted in very little foot traffic, and it was fairly late; but, he was still mindful of the doorway, glancing past you every so often.

"I've been worse," he continued softly.

You had seen him worst, honestly; but, you were bringing him paperwork and lunch that time, not your body for activities.

You were pouting and Hawks was smiling, like he knew you were going to surrender. He was right, of course, but still. He didn't have to look so smug about it.

"Don't worry about me," he uttered.

"Too late," you sighed.

Your eyes trailed away, but not before you saw the smile disappear off his face. That likely was the wrong thing to say, and you feared you had made uncomfortable. However, instead of reeling back, Hawks rose from his chair and reached for you.

"Sorry," he replied hoarsely, distant.

It was vague. But, you knew what he meant: sorry for being gone, sorry for making you worry. There was only so much that could be said. Hawks was a hero, after all; it would inevitably happen again, and again.

Besides, you were his assistant. It would be unprofessional to worry too much.

Speaking of unprofessional, his hands slid down the length of your arms. For a second, you thought he was going to take your hands; but, he seemed to remember where he was, and stopped, letting his arms drop to his sides. You resisted the urge to reach back, and hoped your face didn't display too much disappointment.

"You're not obligated. Really," he explained softly. "But, I promise, I'm alright."

Your eyes returned to his face and took in the sincere expression there. His gaze was unwavering, gold eyes trying to figure out what you were thinking.

Hawks didn't look desperate; but, he looked wanting. He looked lonely. It gave you relief for the way you had felt all week, awaiting his return with bated breath. It was stupid, but you tried not to focus on that.

Shaking your head, you replied quietly, "that's not it. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I think I could take you," Hawks teased, nudging your chin with his knuckles.

You smiled, feeling heat wash over your face. He was far more patient and considerate than doms you had in the past; it was easy to forget how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. But, even when the scene called for it, you were never truly afraid.

Rather, you wanted to push the limits, to push his buttons, and learn the consequences.

"That was - well, I wanted to-" you babbled on, pausing to sigh, "-talk to you about - could we-"

"Anything you want," he interrupted softly, smiling sweetly.

"Let me finish," you huffed. "What if it's too much?"

Hawks huffed out a brief laugh. "I doubt that."

It probably wasn't intentional. But, his voice dropped, just enough to prickle your skin with goosebumps. The confidence alone had your breath catching in your throat. It was a good reminder that you really didn't know everything about him, not as a dom, or a man for that matter.

It made you more eager to share with him.

"You promised a punishment a few months ago," you uttered, pausing to push some hair out of your face.

You shifted your gaze away from Hawks, but could still feel his piercing, gold eyes staring at you.

"I wanted to know what that would be like. If you're alright with that?"

Hawks exhaled heavily, like a rumble through his chest. His wings were reduced to a tiny bundle on his back and he only had a few inches of height on you; yet, just standing there, he still felt so large, or maybe he just made you feel so small.

"You want me to punish you?" he asked, leaning in to whisper the words in the small space between you.

It was easy to melt in that tone; but, you tried to keep your wits about you, not wanting to give him the upper hand just yet.

"I thought you said... -that you wouldn't tolerate bad behavior anymore?" you suggested in a soft voice, as if you were talking about something normal.

"I've been thinking about it," you added on quietly.

You had daydreamed about it a lot, different scenarios, things he would say and do to you. But, you were indecisive about what kind of punishments Hawks liked to give, and wanted to experience it for yourself.

"I wanted to know what you would do," you murmured.

Hawks swallowed, loudly.

"We need to talk about it first," he stated.

His serious tone had your eyes returning to his nervously. His gaze was firm, but there was a weight to his eyelids that wasn't there before, something dangerous in the gold hue of his eyes.

"Start to finish," he continued. "I don't want to risk going too far, or hurting you. Okay?"

Your mouth fell open and you smacked it shut with a nervous, "o-of course."

"I want to," he added on hastily, as if suddenly fearful you would take his words as apprehension. "But-"

"No - no. You're right," you interrupted him softly.

You had your hands clasped together in front of your lap, trying not to let your thoughts wander too far. Hawks didn't seem much better, reaching up to adjust his collar as if it was suddenly choking him.

You were at work, and you promised each other it wouldn't escalate to here; yet, you were reduced to avoiding looking at each other, working to stave off the hunger.

"Ugh-" Hawks stammered. "I should finish this."

"Y-yeah," you replied immediately.

"Tomorrow after work?"

"Ahuh."

After that, you left his office in a hurry, not even glancing over your shoulder to spare him a parting glance.

...

.....

...

The second you stepped into his apartment, and the door closed behind you with a soft click, Hawks descended upon you.

He shoved his body weight against yours, forcing you against the door. Your back hit the surface with a harsh thump and your bag fell off your shoulder, hitting the floor. Your eyes had closed from the impact and you gasped as lips roughly fell over yours. Large hands cupped your sides, fingers digging into your back.

Your hands clawed up his shoulders as he kissed you, feeling the soft fabric of his T-shirt and pressing down harshly to touch the muscles beneath. His firm chest was practically crushing your breasts and his sweatpants did absolutely nothing to maintain the painful erection that was being uncomfortably pressed against your tummy.

He had been waiting in need, and that information had you moaning more so than the smoldering press of his lips.

The kiss went on for a long time, until your combined drool leaked past the corner of your lips. Even then, Hawks didn't stop, and you made no effort to resist his assault either. He tasted good and the kiss left you dizzy and longing.

He pushed in harder, pressing one leg between yours until his knee hit the door. He pushed up, digging his thigh into your clothed crotch enough to elevate you slightly. The heat, even through the fabric, had him growling with excitement.

Your leg shifted forward in a blind attempt to hook on his waist. You bumped his stitches on accident and Hawks hissed, grabbing your leg to stop you.

He retreated from the kiss, the sudden pain quite sobering. A wet smack echoed around the room as you parted from each other. He carefully stepped back and set your leg down, leaving you panting against the door.

"Sorry!" you gasped, realizing what you had done.

Hawks shook his head, looking surprisingly winded.

"I shouldn't have jumped on you like that-"

"I forgot about your-"

"-it was my fault for-"

"-didn't meant to hurt you-"

"-I should have asked first-"

You traded back and forths briefly before managing to cut off his babbling with your own, "no - no - that's not - I mean, it was nice, and you don't have to ask to kiss me."

Hawks knelt down swiftly to scoop your bag off the floor. He handed it to you, looking sheepish, and you took it with unfamiliarity, before ejecting yourself from the door as if you had been stuck to it.

Hawks stepped back to give you space to remove your shoes. Barefooted, and with haste, you shuffled into the living room and dropped your bag on the coffee table.

A body came in close behind you and you turned to greet the man with a smile. His erection was tenting his pants, and it was distracting. You tried to focus on the hand he tangled with your own.

His skin felt nice and his taste was lingering on your lips. You could feel heat and want radiating off his body. Just a taste was enough to get you desperate for more.

"Do you still want me to?" Hawks asked, his tone low, serious.

You blinked, gaining some sobriety.

You hadn't been doing this long enough to dive in without discussion first. It felt right, startlingly so. You could read each other seamlessly, with touch and taste, as if it was a perfectly natural thing, as if you had been doing this for years.

But, just because you felt that comfortable didn't mean that Hawks did, and it was unfair to make assumptions.

"Yes. I should have asked you first if it was something you wanted to do?" you offered softly. "Not out of obligation or-"

"I want to," Hawks breathed, cutting you off harshly.

You watched hunger dance behind his eyes. His hand squeezed your palm gently before shifting down to twiddle with one of your fingers. It felt odd, and likely was to keep himself grounded.

"How do you want it to play out?" he offered, voice softer than the harsh look on his face.

"Actually, I wanted to hear your ideas first," you answered softly.

"Okay," he uttered, pausing to suck in a breath through his nose.

This close, you could see the sharp slant of his pupils. They were long and narrow, thin against vibrant sheets of gold. The dark, heavy slants of his eyelids made his stare all the more hypnotizing.

"I'd like-..." he trailed off, rethinking his choice of words. "I'm going to bind your wrists, and chain you to the wall: arms up high, feet just barely touching the ground."

Hawks leaned in until his head was near your temple. It brought his face out of sight, and left you to stare at the expansion of skin between his neck and shoulder. You watched his throat bob and found yourself holding back a dry swallow.

"Tonight, you're going to address me as 'master'," he explained quietly.

His directions earned a pleased noise from you, the sound bubbling up unconsciously. You could see the faintest movement in his cheek as his lips twitched into a devious smile.

His voice was smooth, like he was saying something sweet, with a dark edge underneath, like a secret understanding spoken between lovers. It was, in a way.

"You've been an entitled brat, and I can't let you get away with it any longer. I'm going to whip you until I think you've learned something; and, babybird, you're going to take every bit of it without complaint, or I'll keep going until I feel like stopping."

The sudden catch of your breath had the tense clench of Hawks' jaw relaxing.

"Is that what you were hoping for?" he asked, almost cooing. It was sweet, in a sort of patronizing way.

"Yeah," you admitted in a harsh exhale.

"Yeah?" he huffed in a condescending tone. "Yes, what?" he added on sternly.

"Yes, I want you to whip me," you answered, feeling a rise in your chest, anticipation making your heart flutter and skin warm.

His hand trailed up your arm, a delicate touch before his palm smoothed over your bicep. His other hand joined on the opposite arm. He squeezed gently before letting out a sigh.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning back to catch your gaze again.

The slightest flicker of doubt in his eyes spoke volumes.

"Are you?" you retorted politely. "It's a lot to ask for and - and I know it's weird-"

"No. It's not," he protested firmly. "It's not weird. There's nothing wrong with your desires, and I don't want you to think you can't ask me anything."

Hawks paused and let out a deep, heavy sigh. "I just really, really don't want to scare you."

Your lips curled into an uneasy smile and your hands sought out his, gently removing them from your biceps to hold them in your own. His hands were larger than yours, ridiculously warm, and you squeezed them.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" you requested, looking up at him with determined eyes.

Hawks responded to your question with a huff and nervous glance away. His eyes weren't distant for long before they returned a little more emboldened.

"If it's too much, I hurt you or scare you, I'd never be able to fix it," he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

"That's not true," you objected softly.

"When-..." You paused, licking your lips nervously, debating if you should even tell him.

"When I dropped, it was because I safe-worded and he - well, he was upset about that."

Hawks' brow lowered slightly and his hands tightened their grip on yours. There was no way to miss the anger bubbling beneath the surface. You squeezed his hands with a sigh, hoping to calm him, before you continued.

"He stopped - the scene ended; but, he was too upset to give me aftercare. It wasn't because of the scene that I was hurt: scenes go wrong sometimes and that's okay. But - but I was left alone."

His lips parted, but you were quick to finish your thought before he could speak up.

"I know you would never do that."

Hawks' mouth opened and closed once, then twice, before he settled on silence.

He looked like he was fighting a losing battle, and any desire to keep arguing was rapidly waning. He tilted his head down and took your lips again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to ground yourself just as his tongue slipped in.

For awhile, maybe longer than necessary, your tongues danced as you stood in his living room, head angled back to let him in. One strong arm was hooked against your lower back, pressing tight, firm muscles digging into your skin, a brick wall you couldn't escape from even if you tried.

His free hand brushed hair away from your neck, trailed along your pulse before finding one of your breasts and squeezing at the plump flesh. His hand shifted around and his fingers slotted perfectly into the gaps between your ribs.

His erection hurt where it dug into your lower abdomen, and you were pleased to know he'd be in that state during the entire scene.

Eventually, the kiss came to an end.

Hawks was barely free from your mouth before growling low and hungry, "bedroom. Kneel by the bed. Now."

You tore away from him with a harsh exhale and trotted down the hallway with excitement. Hawks stalked behind you more slowly, shoulders back and head high, like a predator carefully ensnaring cornered prey.

You dropped down to the floor as commanded, thighs resting over your calves and hands fumbling together over your lap. Hawks' feet tapped quietly on the floor as he approached. You could feel the weight of his presence before a hand gently touched the top of your head.

It was patronizing, delicate, but like he was patting a possession. You failed to resist the desire to tilt your head into the touch, just a little bit.

His hand lingered for a moment before carefully pulling away. The bright, crimson collar - your collar - fell over your eyes as he dangled it in front of you.

Hawks moved slowly, giving you a chance to voice a concern, as he placed the collar over your neck. He was careful to ensure it didn't snag on your hair as he hooked it on, and even brushed the locks aside to get a look at the back of your neck adorned in red.

"What does this mean?" Hawks asked, his voice low and dark.

"That I'm yours," you answered.

That same breath was immediately caught when a large hand reached beneath the collar and cupped your neck, fingers stretched over your skin and palm pressing against your throat.

"I've let you get away with too much," he explained in a hoarse whisper, applying just the slightest bit of pressure.

It wasn't enough to cut off your air or leave a bruise; but, it was startling, and had you gasping weakly.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," you answered quickly, feeling the skin of his hand against your throat as you spoke.

He suddenly let go and you swayed forward a little bit, suddenly dizzy with a wave of arousal and the slightest bit of fear. It wasn't real fear, but a natural, instinctive response to a harsh touch in a delicate place.

"Take off your shirt," Hawks commanded, patient, but clearly right on the edge.

You cupped the bottom hem and lifted the fabric over your head before dropping it to your side. Knowing that Hawks meant it all, you removed your undershirt and carefully unclipped your bra, letting it all that crumble to the floor. The air felt cold, a nice contrast to the heat bubbling beneath your skin.

"Don't slouch," he commented lowly.

Immediately, you leaned up, shoulders back and spine straight. Hawks cupped your jaw and cheek in an appreciative gesture. His thumbed trailed your throat, and you kept your eyes forward as he took in the sight of you, resisting the urge to lean into his touch.

Suddenly, his hand was gone, and he was uttering another command, "stand up."

Your hands flattened on the floor for balance before you wobbled off your knees and onto your feet.

Suddenly, startingly you, large hands were harshly grabbing at your wrists, pulling your arms up, over your head. The gesture had you twisting, bare chest colliding with Hawks' clothed one. He leaned in, towering over you.

The look in his eyes had you gawking back in shock. He bundled your wrists into one large palm, freeing a hand to roughly grab a fistful of your hair, at the lower back of your head. You winced, swallowing a whine, as he held you still.

"What did I tell you?" he whispered darkly, breath hot and floating over your lips from the closeness.

You knew you should answer; however, his harsh actions and words had blood draining to your lower half. You could quite literally feel a throb as your clitoris swelled. It left you dizzy and hurting in the best way possible.

The lack of response had Hawks pulling your head back and snarling. You moaned dumbly at the noise he made, eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open.

"Answer me, you slut. What would happen?" he demanded, teeth on display like he wanted to bite you.

He probably did.

"-the next time-" you whimpered out, "-I disobey, I'll be punished, master."

"Yeah," Hawks cooed, low and harsh. "That's right."

You didn't mean to flinch; but, you did, and Hawks responded by jerking your head a little and growling disapprovingly. You moaned again, though it was weaker this time, as you tried and failed to gobble it down. Your eyes squeezed shut, torn between the pain and pleasure of his harsh grip.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest and Hawks could feel your wild pulse where he gripped your wrists.

"Can't be still for two seconds. Can't look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you. Can't answer a damn question," Hawks uttered darkly, one discrepancy after the other.

It was bullshit, of course; but, in that moment, already sinking so deep into the abyss, you were soaking up every word with bated breath.

"I'm done being patient with you."

Hawks' hand let go of your hair and immediately reached up. Something padded and tight snapped over your wrists in a single, seamless motion, and you didn't need to look up to know they were leather straps: more comfortable than handcuffs, just as strong, and wouldn't leave marks on your skin.

The room spun as Hawks dragged you away from the bed by the brace holding your wrists together. Your feet nearly betrayed you as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

A hook jutted out by the window, and could easily be mistaken for a single hat display. Of course, you knew better. No hat display needed that many wall braces and wouldn't be placed that high on the wall.

Your arms went up and you could hear a metallic rattling. You focused on Hawks, on the intense, focused look in his eyes as he looked up, carefully looping a chain through the hook.

He tugged your arms a little higher, tilting his head down to get a look at your feet, before looking back up to adjust the chain. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you - to actually, truly hurt you. His careful adjusting only had the anticipation burning hotter in your gut.

Eventually, he let go and slowly removed his hands. You weren't quite on your toes. You were able to just barely stand on the balls of your feet. Still, it was enough to force your body into an arch.

You tested the maneuverability of your hands, twisting your wrists around to ensure no circulation was being cut off. Hawks watched with an impressed look on his face.

"That's right," he praised.

Hawks stepped in closer and pressed a pleased kiss against your forehead. You sighed and resisted the urge to lean in, not wanting to get too wrapped up in a brief moment of sobriety before the scene continued.

"Give me a color," he requested.

"Green," you breathed.

"Nothing hurts?" he asked, hands sliding up your arms in a soothing gesture.

He was close, which was nothing knew; but, with your hands forced above your head, he felt so much taller, shoulders impossibly wide. The gold of his eyes was striking and you could see wicked desire threatening to overthrow him.

Yet, still, he was patient and careful.

"No," you answered quietly.

"Don't forget your colors. I won't ask again," he explained, smoothing his hands over your cheeks.

Hawks pulled away suddenly, leaving you swaying as you tried to chase his warmth. You watched a stray feather float across the room and nudge at the light switch. The room dimmed considerably, leaving you in a faint light, just barely bright enough to see Hawks.

He stared, watching your bare chest heave with labored breaths, spine arched from the forced restraint on your arms. You stared back at him, desperate to be touched, a wild look of longing in your eyes mingled with the slightest unease.

You looked beautiful.

But, he didn't show that on his face. He looked upset, as if you had wronged him in some way, like he had thought better of you and you disappointed him.

That look had you desperate to please him.

"Master, pl-"

"Shut up," he interrupted you sharply.

He didn't need to be loud to force your mouth shut. The quiet, harsh whisper was more startling than if he had raised his voice at you. You stood there, back arched and bare chest displayed, breathing harshly while beneath his predatory gaze.

Finally, he moved, approaching you with long strides and cold eyes.

You gasped when his large, warm hands slid over your waist. He carefully turned you around and your feet dragged on the hard floor until you were facing away from him, angled towards the window. The chain above rattled, and you faintly realized he had you hooked on a 360 swivel.

He dragged your pants and underwear down your thighs and knelt down to remove them from your feet. You whined at the touch of his nails dragging up your legs as he stood back up.

A clothed torso pressed against your back and you felt the harsh stab of his need digging into your behind, pressing against the soft material of his lounge pants.

You flinched, a little tickled, when his hands made a path up your sides, fingertips dragging along your ribs. The gentle touch was brief, for suddenly a hand fisted into your hair and tugged your head back.

You whined, eyes fluttering shut, at the sudden harsh touch. His other hand wandered aimlessly across the plains of your chest, down your stomach and up your back.

He only had a few inches over you; but, Hawks felt massive in that moment, or maybe you just felt small.

The hand gripping your hair remained, firm, but not painful. His other hand disappeared from your body for a moment, before you heard a soft shuffle, and then something was draped over your front.

A smooth material fluttered in several pieces over your skin, dragging along your stomach. You gasped as they climbed higher, tickling your nipples on the ascend. The material trailed up your neck for a second before vanishing.

"Open your eyes," Hawks whispered calmly.

Eyelashes fluttered and you realized he was holding something up in front of you, displaying it to you with importance. His hand was gripped over a smoothly carved, ebony handle. Bound to one end was a series of leather straps that dangled loosely.

You drew in a sharp inhale, chest dramatically rising and falling with that breath.

"Do you know what this is for?" he asked, breathing into the skin of your ear with a sort of faux innocence in a deep voice that was equally haunting and tantalizing.

Of course you knew what that was; but, it was equally fun and important to introduce it as if you didn't.

"-to whip me?" you suggested meekly.

"Why are you being whipped?" he asked, dark and angry.

"F-for step-" you paused, as if to catch your breath, "-stepping out of line, master."

"Do you deserve it?" followed, hoarse and yet spoken so casually.

You were naked and strung up like a piece of meat; yet, it was that question that had red tinting your cheeks and blood boiling in your ears.

"Yes," you breathed.

Hawks didn't respond with words, just hummed at you as if he couldn't be bothered to answer properly, as if he was dismissing an obnoxious child. The whip disappeared from view and his hand carefully untangled from your hair.

Your head lulled forward for a second before jerking back up. You waited, muscles tight with anxiety, for the first strike. You expected it to come when you were unprepared, to startle you.

"Deep breath," Hawks uttered.

The sharp inhale that followed more so out of shock than to obey his command. It was a warning, you realized; and, a few seconds later, the whip came down on the back of your thigh, right beneath the curve of your ass.

An electric shock of pain danced across your skin and you cried out, loudly enough to nearly drown out the sound of leather snapping against flesh.

The impact had you flinching forward, and the chain above rattled faintly. You barely sucked in a breath before the whip came down again in the exact same spot. You cried out again, jerking in your restraints, and heard a quiet noise escape Hawks behind you.

You didn't have enough time to think about it before he hit you again. It hurt like a sudden, piercing shock before fading into a warm ache. You were immensely bothered by how fine you felt on the other side.

You wanted more.

"Master-!" you cried out, senseless to what you were even going to ask for.

"What did I fucking tell you?" Hawks snarled, leaning in to press against your back.

His free hand curled beneath your collar and squeezed your neck, forcing your head still.

"You're gonna take all of it until I'm done and - god damn - your skin is so fucking pretty-"

Hawks tore away suddenly. The whip came down again with a loud snap, this time on the opposite thigh. He was harsher this time, rougher, and you screamed again and again, toes wobbling as you tried to stay still.

"Screaming like a bitch," he observed in an utterance, sounding out of breath.

You were almost afraid he was overexerting and hurting a wound; but, when Hawks pressed against your back again, you were reminded of his painful erection, and the concern was abandoned.

"Do you like it that much?" he uttered into the skin above your ear.

An annoyed huff escaped the winged man when you leaned back, trying to touch more of him, trying to feel more of the warmth radiating off of him.

"Pathetic, huh," he commented, more so to himself than to you, though ensuring you could hear it.

He reeled back and delivered the leather onto your ass. You flinched and cried out, hoarser this time. It was almost a scream, but sounded suspiciously like a moan. It didn't hurt more; it hurt different, and it had you vaguely aware of how sopping wet you were between your legs.

A noise bubbled up, like a rough inhale, and suddenly Hawks laughed, dark and low and evil.

"On your toes, arch your back," he commanded, harsh and winded. "Knees together, ass out - hurry up."

It took you a second too long to figure out what he was saying, and Hawks let out a frustrated groan by the time you finally obeyed. Strung up, you couldn't really accomplish the pose much.

"Ya' trying to piss me off?" he growled, fierce and exactly the thing he was inquiring about.

The flogger came down with a loud snap and you cried out through clenched teeth, wobbling forward on the shackles.

"Can't be an obedient whore for one minute, huh?"

He switched to the other cheek, giving you very little time between strikes to recover. At some point, you realized that you weren't even shouting anymore. You were moaning, shrill cries that cut off into a broken whimper.

Hawks reached around and cupped your jaw, wiping away a mess of saliva that you hadn't even noticed was leaking from your mouth. You couldn't see his eyes at this angle, and whimpered weakly when he refused to let you.

A few strikes later, and you realized you were crying. It was soft, wispy whimpers, whilst hot tears poured down your face. It didn't hurt bad enough to justify that; rather, it was the frustrating need burning and aching between your legs and the unbridled desire to please your owner.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, which stopped master mid swing. You felt the tips of the leather just barely brush your skin, carried by the momentum.

"Sorry for what?" master asked lowly, free hand grabbing you by the waist to spin you around.

Through tear-soaked eyes, you peered up at him, and gasped at the sight of his glowing, gold orbs. He stared you down like a predator, pupils like diamonds on the center of a stunning sunrise. He leaned in so close that you couldn't see anything but his eyes.

"For - for-" you babbled on pathetically.

"You know I can tell, babybird?" Master uttered, low and dark. "I know when you make an honest mistake, and I know when you're misbehaving on purpose."

You couldn't blink, could hardly breathe. His free hand was still gripping the meat of your waist.

"You're not sorry, and I'm not done yet."

-and you were turned back around.

You were long surrendered by then, crying out in delight with each strike, even as tears stained your cheeks. Your ass and thighs were raw and red, skin tender and throbbing.

"What are you being punished for?"

You were panting wildly, chest heaving with each labored breath.

"Being a-" you cut off and tried to remember what he had said earlier.

When you took too long, master snarled and snapped the whip, this time onto the front of your thigh. You cried and flinched away, this time in an unpleasant and sharp tone, lacking any delight.

You were ready to color, just to ask him not to hit you there. However, master seemed to know that already, for he rapidly switched the whip to the other hand, and smoothed his free palm over the red mark. It was soothing and apologetic, fingers spread wide and gentle.

Everything was still for a moment as his hand glided over the red skin, the only audible sound your harsh breathing. His thumb moved back and forth against your skin.

You floated back into the scene with ease.

"-for being an entitled brat," you answered.

"That's right," master cooed, stepping back again.

The whip came down on your ass, leather loud as it lapped your skin. You cried out, arms straining against the chain and making it rattle above you. Beneath the radiating pain, pleasure was blossoming, raw and hot.

"Fix your posture," master commanded, briefly ceasing his assault.

You hadn't realized that you were letting yourself sag, letting the chain hooked to the leather cuffs on your wrists be the only thing holding you up.

"Just a little more, babybird. Now, stand up, and be a good girl for me."

The encouragement drew a whimper from your throat and you obeyed, wobbling knees until you were balanced properly on your feet again. Your head lulled forward, and immediately jerked back when master struck you again.

It kept going and going, and you drowned in the sensation, until, finally, he dropped the whip, and turned you to face him once more. HIs hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your face up, until your bleary eyes blinked open and you looked up at him blindly.

"So pretty," he cooed, thumbs smearing tears across your cheeks.

You ate up the praise with a weak moan, but remained perfectly still, resisting the urge to lean into him.

"My pretty little slave."

A sound bubbled up your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The desperate, lovesick look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"See? All you have to do is listen to me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sighed loudly, eyelids fluttering shut.

There was a rattle and creak, and suddenly your cuffs were dethatched from the wall mount. Your arms flopped forward, limp and lifeless, right over master's shoulders. Your chest followed, and you tumbled into him.

Before you could think to grovel for forgiveness, master hummed, pleased at the sudden collide of your bodies. He knelt down and carefully slid his arm beneath your knees, avoiding the backs of your thighs.

You were lifted and carried across the room. Your back was carefully laid out on silk sheets, and you cried as if you had never felt anything as nice before. It felt so good, so soft, and you sank into the sheets like it was quicksand.

Your bound arms laid above your head, elbows bent, muscles sore. You felt the weight of your master above you, moaned loudly when he laid a kiss over you forehead. Slowly, he spread your legs and settled one knee between them.

"Babybird, you're soaked," he observed quietly.

It sounded sweet, like he was concerned.

"Do you want to come for me?" fell from his lips so sweetly.

Your head tilted back submissively, and you sobbed, "yes - yes - please - please, master."

A temptation bubbled up, but you had the sense to not voice it this time. You wanted to feel the breach of his cock in your velvety walls, to be claimed by his hips, to be a hole for master to pleasure himself. You wanted to be used.

But, bad girls didn't get cock.

"Open your mouth for me," master requested kindly.

You opened without a second thought and felt something velvety and smooth lay on your bottom lip. Your tongue lulled out to draw the intrusion inside, and you recognized the phallus shape.

It was too small to be master's.

It was pulled back just as you drew it halfway in. The bed shifted as the man above you repositioned himself, and then you felt that tip press against your entrance. Guided by masters hand, he pushed it inside. You were so wet and slippery that it glided in effortlessly to the base.

A button clicked and the toy began to vibrate, strategically angled upwards. You cried out, the sound fading to a whimper when master moved his hand and pinned your pearl between two digits. He glided them through the slippery mess, gently twirling your clitoris between the pads of his fingers.

Your eyes fluttered open, just in time to catch master's beautiful, gold eyes staring down at you. He looked hypnotized.

"Come whenever you want," he whispered before leaning down to draw a nipple into his mouth.

You had no control over yourself in that moment, vaguely aware of the endless string of whimpers and moans spewing from your mouth. You closed your eyes, trembling violently beneath him.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and leaned up to pepper kisses around the edge of your collar. Your back was arched, muscles taut and ready to snap like a bow string.

Master tilted his hips down, likely on accident, and you felt the painful jab of his cock, tenting his trousers. You could feel the heat through that article of clothing.

If you hadn't apexed in that moment, you had little doubt you would have begged him to shove his cock inside you, would have cried literal tears for it, even. But, you were too busy sobbing and thrashing in ecstasy to be capable of it anymore.

When you came down, it was to the feeling of master carefully removing your wrist bindings. Your fingers grabbed at the sheets, arms too sore to move.

"M-master, come-" you called to him weakly, "-you haven't-"

He didn't maneuver away to discard the cuffs, just dropped them carelessly to the floor.

"Shhh. In a moment," he replied quietly.

Your collar was removed with gentle hands and joined the cuffs on the floor. Master leaned up to grasp your forearms and carefully brought them forward, positioning them properly in front of your torso. He lifted his shirt, flung it over his head, and rolled onto his back, steadily bringing you with him.

Your cheek fell onto his a bare, sweaty pec, and you sighed a long, winded exhale. He hooked an arm against your back while his other hand tugged his pants down until the elastic snapped beneath his sack.

Your arms were too weak to reach down; so, all you could do was stare at master's large hand working over his cock in a furious fist. You whimpered, maybe because you wanted to help, or because the angry red tint on the tip and throbbing vein on the shaft looked so delicious.

He breathed heavy exhales into your hair, huffing with exertion.

"Tilt your head back," he uttered.

You did, and was met with wet lips.

"Open your mouth."

You obeyed, moaning when he unceremoniously shoved his tongue inside. The arm hooked along your back shifted up and he roughly cupped the back of your head to hold you in place. His tongue invaded your mouth as deeply as he could get it, knocking teeth togethe. As suffocating as it was, you didn't want him to stop.

The wet sounds of his stroking was mind numbing, informing you just how much pre-come was leaking from the tip: the slick noises of each glide of his hand, the slapping of skin. God, you wanted it - you wanted it - you wanted it-

A loud moan traveled from his mouth into yours and you felt his whole body shudder. Hot come shot out in thick globs across his chest and you felt some land on your shoulder. He pulled away from your mouth, and you laid there together, panting wildly.

You had drifted away, almost, eyes fluttering shut and mind peacefully numb.

Master moved carefully out from under you. He came back a second later, cleaned up the mess of his seed, and squirted lotion into his palm. You shrieked when a wet hand smoothed the cold substance onto your ass and thighs.

"Shhh. You're doing so good."

You shuddered on occasion, when his hand touched a particularly sensitive spot. Your mind filled in a picture of what you probably looked like. Was it going to bruise?

Not long after that, master carefully slotted back into the bed and pulled you on top of him. He had removed his clothes this time, letting you feel nothing but bare skin as you curled against his side.

As the minutes dragged on, and you laid there, cheek on Hawks' chest, sanity slowly came back. You felt his stubble against your temple and breathed out a pleased sighed.

Hawks uttered your name in a soft, querying tone.

"-was amazing," you answered sleepily.

"Yeah," Hawks agreed in a revered tone, as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

His hand stroked up and down your arm, across your shoulder. He seemed just as desperate to not move as you did. Apparently, he didn't want to talk either, and you were thankful for that. Really, you didn't need to. His heartbeat beneath your ear and sweaty skin rapidly cooling in the chilled air of the room was enough.

-the occasional kisses against your hairline.

-the way his chest rose dramatically with a deep inhale.

You drifted away before you could think to stop it.

...

.....

...

The second you woke, you knew something was wrong.

You had no memory of getting home, no memory of leaving Hawks' apartment. A quick glance around at the grey sheets, at the window with the beautiful, sweeping view of the cityscape, informed you that you were still at his apartment.

The realization that you had passed out in Hawks' bed washed over you like an ice-cold shower. The sky through the window was bright blue with orange hues dragging across the clouds, letting you know it was a short time past sunrise.

You climbed out of bed with haste and grabbed at a shirt that had been discarded onto the nearby arm chair. It was big on you, dark grey, and smelt like a combination of Hawks' sweat and cologne.

You practically sprinted into the hallway, gasping at the sight of Hawks shirtless in his kitchen, hunched over a newspaper with a coffee cup in his dominant hand, boxers hugging his waist. At the commotion, Hawks looked up at you, a perfectly innocent look on his handsome face.

Under different circumstances, you probably would have laughed. That wasn't the face of a man who whipped your ass raw.

"Hawks, I'm so - so sorry," you panted.

His brow quirked and lips parted in confusion; but, you continued, "I'll get dressed and get out."

You spun around, halting when Hawks called out to you.

"Woah - woah," he blurted. "I wouldn't of let you sleep in if I knew you had somewhere to be. Least let me get you a cab."

Hawks set his coffee mug down and reached for his phone, scooping it off the kitchen counter.

"I don't have - I just-"

He stopped tapping at his phone, gold eyes lifting to meet yours.

"-didn't want to inconvenience you."

Hawks blinked slowly, processing your words with comically wide eyes.

"You're not," he blurted suddenly, as if he couldn't believe you suggested such a thing.

"But - but, I fell asleep last night-" you babbled, "-and we didn't agree that was okay and - you have places to be and - and you should have woken me up."

"I wanted to let you sleep," he continued, voice soft like he was confused as to what the problem was, "especially after all that."

"But, I-... " you blurted, staring at Hawks in disbelief that he was really okay with this.

"-crossed a line?" you suggested weakly.

"I don't mind," he replied with a small smile.

You stared at him, wondering if it really was okay. This was number 3 pro-hero of Japan, after all, face plastered over magazines all over the world, the talk of many news stations and radio outlets. Surely, he had more important things to go than entertain you.

"I was making breakfast," Hawks declared cheerily. "I make an amazing omelette."

You gave up.

"Okay," you replied softly, finally letting your tense shoulders sink down.

Hawks picked up his mug and took a big sip from it, gulping dramatically. He set it down with a heavy sigh and gave you a quick glance from top to bottom.

"I like this look," he complimented in a teasing way.

"Oh, you would," you snarked back.

"You should go to next week's meeting like that," he added on, a grin creeping onto his face.

"Fine; then, you can go in my skirt," you tossed back at him before stomping your way across the apartment to return to the bedroom.

His laughter was loud and carried down the hall.

Chapter Text

Some little voice in your head had warned you that this was getting too frequent, and you were going to get addicted at this rate; but, that didn't stop you from showing up at Hawks' apartment the following weekend when he asked if you wanted to.

As if he even had to ask anymore.

It had been raining gently on your way over, and even with a large umbrella, you were shivering from the cold with damp heels when you stepped inside Hawks' apartment.

He waited patiently for you to remove your shoes and prop your umbrella on the coat hook, along with your coat, before descending upon you with grabby hands. You laughed a little at his boldness, the noise gobbled up by a wet kiss.

His wings were fluffier today, and you wondered if it was his feathers reacting to the humidity from the rain. Even inside his apartment, the downpour could be heard tapping noisily against the large window looking out the balcony. The smell of rain wafted through the room, and made you wonder if he had enjoyed the view from the balcony before your arrival.

"I got you something," Hawks stated, ushering you to the bedroom.

A familiar song and dance, and you followed his lead eagerly.

Your eyes first spotted the collar resting on the bedsheets, just the same as the first time he introduced it to you. Something new was laid around it: a gown, maybe a blouse, if it could even be called that.

When you picked it up, you realized it was lingerie, made out of smooth silk, without a single thread out of place. The neckline was sweeping and the bottom hem was short. A tie at the mid-point seemed to be the only thing that would keep it on.

It was more of an accessory, really, and hardly counted as clothes, the shade of red much the same as his wings, as the collar. It would feel nice on your skin and look pretty on you, most definitely. But, it would leave nothing to the imagination. There was something undeniably possessive about it, not that you could find yourself to mind.

When you set the outfit down and turned to face Hawks, you were met with an excited, albeit nervous expression. His back was straight, head high, wings stretched out. He looked ready to go out for a jog in the loose pants and T-shirt, black socks on his feet. Yet, despite the casual getup, he had a heavy look in his eyes.

"Do you like it?" he asked carefully.

"It feels really nice," you answered softly.

"Do you want to wear it for me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," you answered immediately.

Hawks swallowed, gold eyes heavy with lust despite the obvious concern brewing underneath.

Clearly, there was more he wanted than just for you to wear this: a game, an act. Whatever it was had him looking like he wasn't allowed to ask. His eyes were distant and glossy, excited but nervous.

You reached for his hand and smiled when Hawks reciprocated with a soft grip. He stepped in closer, wings opening and closing behind him. He kissed at your temple, and you sighed at the contact.

"Tonight...?" you hummed encouragingly.

"Tonight..." Hawks began, his voice hoarse, but sweet, like thick, raw honey. You peered up and caught the sight of his throat shift as he swallowed. Really, his hesitance was endearing, and you doubted you'd ever get tired of it.

"I want you to be my assistant, in scene," he explained softly.

You blinked up at him.

Oh.

Oh-

So, that was how he wanted to play tonight.

There was no teasing grin on his face, only hunger and patience in his eyes, lips pressed thin.

You knew that you were blushing at the broad implication, and it had done well to fill your mind with dirty thoughts. You knew that you weren't supposed to mingle work with play; but, there was no way you could resist something so deliciously improper.

Hawks was quiet for a moment, waiting for some protest from you, giving you an opportunity to tell him no. He seemed to grow more confident when it never came.

His free hand came up and a thumb trailed your bottom lip. "I have some things I need to take care of today, and I need your help," he explained quietly.

There was something in his tone, expressing that he was well aware of the line he was walking. It was right on the edge of what you agreed was okay. He seemed almost afraid that his fantasy was going to push you away.

It was quite the opposite.

"You can do that for me, can't you?" he asked softly, sweet, but bold, like he already knew the answer.

"Yes, sir," you answered solidly.

Some of that fear washed away from Hawks' face. He squeezed your hand before carefully letting go.

"Put on your uniform," he instructed quietly, firmly.

He disappeared behind you; but, you could hear him sit down in the armchair, the fabric squeaking softly as he plopped down. You could feel the heat of his eyes staring as you undressed.

It felt good, his eyes on your bare form. Even if he didn't say anything, even if you couldn't see his face, you could feel the radiating want. You felt beautiful and powerful.

You slid your arms through the silk gown, pleased by how warm it felt against your chilled skin. You moved the ties over the front to cinch the material at the waist and moved it around to the back to tie a bow at the curve of your back.

Sure enough, nothing was kept to the imagination. The front flowed open, leaving your breasts on full display, and the bottom hem stopped right above your crotch. There was no way to angle it to cover anything, and that left you feeling more exposed than if you were properly nude.

You picked up the collar, and briefly considered putting it on yourself.

Hawks didn't give you the chance to try, calling out to you, "come here."

He didn't sound particularly pleased by your display, and the cold look on his face added to that illusion. However, as you approached him, the obvious tent in the front of his pants betrayed that.

The hem of his shirt was bunched up a little, exposing a thin line of pale skin. His arms were propped up on his lap, and you could count the scars on his forearms.

He looked immaculate.

Hawks pointed at the ground, between his feet, and you obediently sank down. You crawled forward on your knees until you were touching the armchair, between his spread legs.

"What's your color?" he asked as his hands carefully took the collar from your hand.

Automatically, your head tilted back to give him room to wrap the collar around your neck. He adjusted the tightness diligently, until it was comfortable: loose enough to not be imposing, tight enough to not dig into you clavicles.

"Green," you breathed.

"What I'm gonna ask of you tonight, promise me, if you don't like it, you'll use your colors?" he uttered, dragging his knuckles affectionately across your jaw and up your cheek.

"I will," you promised, eyes fluttering open to look up at him.

The serious look on his face was in stark contrast to the soft words he had spoken to you.

"Do you know what I need you to do?" Hawks uttered, spreading his legs a little and leaning back in the armchair until he was slouching.

His posture did well enough to shift attention to his need tenting his pants.

As ridiculous and inappropriate as this was, you had fantasized about something similar before, and wasn't the least bit perturbed by the suggestion.

"Of course, sir," you cooed, reaching for the hem of his pants.

No underwear, of course, and his cock bobbed free with some pulling on his trousers. He wasn't just hard, he was swollen and throbbing, the head a delicious purple tint that begged for attention.

You lapped at the tip with a curious tongue before drawing it in your mouth. Spurred on by the weight of him, you bobbed your head, dragging your tongue along the thick vein on the underside, wetting his length thoroughly.

You sank up and down a few times, confident this was what he expected, but-

"Be still," Hawks commanded suddenly.

You froze up, wondering if you had done something wrong. A panic shot through you; but, then, a hand gently curled over your head, fingers brushing through your hair briefly before going still. You felt the weight of his palm, not pushing, just resting.

"That's it," he cooed.

Oh.

So, that was what you were supposed to be doing.

You exhaled harshly through your nose, sending fluttering breath across his tummy. This was new, not just for him, but for you, as well. You dragged your knees in a little closer to the chair and fixed your posture while trying to keep your head still.

His cock throbbed against your tongue, likely in tandem with his heartbeat. You tried to ignore it, and was clueless as to how he managed. He was almost unbearably warm and damn near throbbing, but hardly seemed perturbed by you sitting still. In fact, he only relaxed further; his stiff legs relaxed, stretching out beside you, and his posture sank back a little deeper in the chair.

His non-dominant hand remained perched on your head and you heard paper crinkling in his other. At this angle, you could only see the fabric of his shirt, and a small expansion of skin exposed from disturbing his pants: the cream color of his skin and pale blonde hairs dusting his crotch.

"You're doing so good," he whispered sweetly, briefly moving his fingers over your scalp soothingly, before going still again.

How demeaning, not that it was particularly worse than anything you had done thus far with Hawks. It was servicing - dirty, dirty servicing - and you were taking up the role of his assistant in this scenario, as if that wasn't the real relationship you had outside this room.

Still, there was something about it that thrilled you.

You let your imagination sweep you out of his bedroom and into his office, where he was wearing his hero uniform and you were hiding beneath his desk, and this was some sort of fantastical thing that helped him focus.

Hawks apparently had the same thing in mind, for a vibration suddenly set off, startling you.

He shifted a little, and you heard a click, before he hummed, "yeah?"

-and then you realized, it was his cell phone, and he had answered it.

The distant voice yelling at you that this was inappropriate was drowned out by the arousal beating like a drum in your ears. You could hear the muffled sound of someone else talking and tried to focus less on his responses and more on the weight of his cock in your mouth.

That was the job he had assigned to you, after all, and his hand was still absent-mindedly resting on top of your head. The worst of it was how professional Hawks sounded, like he didn't have a woman between his legs.

The mental image of how debauched you looked had you moaning quietly. Even if it was quiet enough to not be heard, he definitely felt it.

A short time later, the call ended with a beep and you heard a quiet thump as Hawks roughly set his phone down on the side table.

"Be quiet," he uttered darkly, "and don't even think about touching yourself. Keep your hands on me."

You wanted to moan again, mainly to voice approval to his words. Instead, you shifted your hands onto his thighs and gave a gentle, assuring squeeze. Hawks sighed, and you took that as a sign that he understood your feelings.

The minutes dragged on, and Hawks played with your hair absent-mindedly. On occasion, his hand shifted so he could drag his thumb against your cheek and feel the thickness of his shaft beneath your gummy flesh.

You had little doubts that he knew exactly what he was doing. His hand would rest limply atop your head as if he could care less that you were cockwarming him, only to play with your hair or caress your cheek just when he thought you needed some attention.

The passage of time was lost on you before suddenly, Hawks carelessly dropped whatever he was holding, letting it crinkle noisily to the floor, cupped your jaw, and slid you off his cock.

He patted his lap, grunting, "come here."

You obeyed, despite the odd gnawing feeling that you shouldn't stop yet. You crawled up onto his lap from the floor, eyes glossy with lust. He hooked an arm behind your lower back and tugged you in close, careless to his wet erection pinned between your bodies.

"You did good," he praised, using his freehand to poke two fingers into your mouth.

He rolled his digits over your tongue, eyes soaking up the lewd expression you were forced to make as a result of said action forcing your mouth open and tongue out.

"I knew you'd be a great cockwarmer when I hired you," he continued in a harsh whisper.

You moaned shamelessly at the praise.

"Such a cute little mouth, and it's all mine. Yeah?"

You hummed agreeingly and Hawks smirked like the devil.

His fingers slipped free from your lips, and you barely worked out a dry gasp before his tongue was replacing them. You kissed him back fiercely, trying to draw his tongue in deeper whilst your hands grabbed fistfuls of his T-shirt.

He was practically choking you with the wet appendage, shoving it in as deep as he could get it, pressing along your teeth and gums, and you were pulling him in closer, clawing at his shoulders until your chests were painfully smooshed together.

Hawks' wet hand curled beneath your collar and wrapped around your neck, steadily tightening its squeeze until you whimpered, and then he finally loosened, just enough to let you breathe.

You were oblivious to how much you had drooled on him until Hawks pulled back and you got a good look at the saliva coating his chin. Oh, but you were too lost to be embarrassed, drowning in his delicious taste and the ravenous gaze he was smothering you with.

He stared you down darkly, the gold of his eyes practically devouring his narrow pupils. His wings were draped over the back of the armchair and flopped against the wall.

He released your neck with a grunt and command, "get back to work."

You hurt your knees from how hard you dropped yourself back to the floor. Hawks didn't laugh at your expense, but grunted halfheartedly, as if it was the thing he expected you to do. You took him as deep as you could before gagging and was forced to pull back a bit.

"Fuck-" he groaned, sinking back into the chair and struggling to resist the urge to lift his hips.

"Just like that... Yeah. Good girl."

His sweet words echoed loudly in your ears, easily keeping you deep in this headspace. He smelt good, like body wash and something uniquely his own. His taste was as addicting as the feeling of his weight against your tongue. You wanted his hand to pat your head and to hear more of his praise.

As if hearing those wants, a hand smoothed your hair out of your face. But, it was a brief touch, before pulling away. You couldn't tell what was occupying his hands; you just knew that you were jealous they weren't on you.

But, your boss was a busy man, and you had to be patient.

The minutes dragged on, and Hawks fumbled with something above you, one hand occasionally leaving to pat your head condescendingly when the desire took him.

You focused on the sounds around you, eyes shut peacefully, and realized it was still raining. The sound wasn't deafening, but growing louder than when you had started, an insisting tapping against the glass as harsh winds blew about.

His phone rang again, and as he began talking, you wondered if this was a conversation you were supposed to be listening in on. He addressed the person on the other end, someone whom you had met several times over the past couple years, a busybody from the hero commission.

Oh, how much trouble would he be in if they knew what he was doing right now? Of course, you didn't want anything bad to happen to Hawks; but, the absurdity of it all had your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

The phone call ended and Hawks carelessly dropped the device before roughly pulling you off him by your jaw.

Slack jawed and startled, a string of saliva carried between your lips and his cock. He forced your head up to make eye contact, and the look Hawks gave you drew a whimper from your throat.

"Get on the fucking bed," he growled before letting go of your face.

You reeled away from him and forced yourself onto your feet, wobbling like a child. You turned away from him to head for the bed; but, suddenly, his hand was curled around your inner elbow and yanking you back onto his lap.

He was so strong, and didn't hold back any of that strength, effortlessly forcing you into him. Your back hit his chest with a startled yelp, even drawing a grunt from the winged hero.

However, Hawks didn't hold you down. He laughed, a low, evil rumble in his chest, and watched you fumble to stand back up. You pulled away from him fiercely this time, expecting him to pull you back again.

Instead, Hawks stood up, and began a predatory approach. You cried out in surprise, for he was on his feet and heading towards you before you had managed to make it to the bed.

It was silly, but your thoughts provided you with panic: he told you to get on the bed and he was approaching, but you weren't ready yet-

You flopped back on the bed, heels pushing against the sheets as you tried to shove yourself to the center. Your hair was a mess over your face and you were panting wildly, staring up at the dangerous look on his face.

A feather slipped away, making for the light switch. The room was cast into darkness, but not for long before a lamp at the bedside table lit up, casting a dull, orange light over you and the bed frame.

You could make out the gold of Hawks' eyes through the darkness, the curve of his wings up high, the moonlight creeping in through the window, and not much else.

Hands clawed up your thighs and spread your legs. He gripped harshly at your skin, as if he didn't care that he might hurt you. You weren't sure what to expect, but was still startled when he manhandled onto your front.

A hand grabbed at the back of your neck to force your face into the sheets. He didn't hold you down long enough to make you panic, just enough to remind you of your place. His hand pulled back, and his grip on your hair forced your head up.

"You've been good. Show me how bad you want your reward," he uttered darkly before letting go of your hair.

With a whimper, you pulled up on your knees, arched your back, spread your thighs a little, laid your cheek on the sheets, and hoped you looked good.

You heard and felt Hawks' wings beat the air with an excited 'fwap' before his tongue invaded your folds. You screamed, shaking beneath the sudden onslaught. Even if you dared to try, there was no way you could pull away. His hands were gripping your thighs, holding them open.

His lapping tongue had you mewling and shaking, hands clawing at the bed sheets as if seeking stability. But, then, suddenly, he was pulling back, and rising up on his knees behind you on the bed.

Delirious, you arched into him, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat with the hope he would shove his cock inside you. You didn't care if you got punished; you were ready to beg and cry for it.

Something slid inside you.

Or, more accurately, he pushed something inside you; but, it was far too cold to be his cock, too bumpy along the shaft. Once it reached the base, something folded over your clit to hold the toy in place.

You let out a weak huff as Hawks stood up and stepped around the bed to the other side, where he could look down at your face. You peered up at him through your lashes and began leaning up onto your hands.

Before you could get up to look at him properly, the toy flipped on. Everything was vibrating: the thick shaft pushing against your gooey insides, the rough exterior folded over your sloppy, wet clit, and the head nuzzled right up against your sweet spot.

You slipped off your hands, falling face first in the sheets with a pathetic squeal. You writhed at the pleasure, finding it impossible to keep your hips still. You probably looked ridiculous, unable to pull away, and simultaneously arching into the touch.

Hawks was in front of you on the bed, on his knees and watching you tremble and cry in pleasure.

He had fixed his pants, and the positioning brought his cock to eye-level, leading you to wonder if he wanted to be serviced. Of course, the sober part of your mind knew better. He had called this a reward, after all, and Hawks rarely put his own pleasure first.

The truth was that you wanted to please him.

You reached for out and palmed at his erection, mystified by how hard he felt. Hawks made a displeased clicking sound, and let you struggle for a little bit before he carefully grabbed your wrist.

"You slutty little thing," he chastised. "Haven't you had enough?"

Hawks gathered your wrists in one hand and hoisted your arms up. You cried out as he forced your body up, until you were on your knees in front of him.

You stared at his face with wild eyes, mystified by the beautiful gold hue of his iris. He looked angry, annoyed even, but aroused, and the sight made your knees tremble.

"Don't you fucking move," he snarled, squeezing at the skin of your wrists in warning.

His head ducked down, eyes disappearing from sight, and his fluffy hair took up most of your field of view. You could see his wings over his shoulders, draped elegantly behind him.

Teeth nibbled their way down your chest while his hand continued to hold your arms up, forcing an unnatural arch. The toy was still vibrating, though this new angle gave you just a bit of relief; or, maybe, the pain from his manhandling was distracting.

-and, then, there was his teeth.

He bit along the center of your chest before moving to the swell of your breast, leaving blossoming, red marks behind. He was kinder to your nipple, suckling it gently for a brief moment before letting go with an obnoxious pop.

When he seemed satisfied, he collapsed on the bed and dragged you on top of him. He was still holding your wrists and your legs were tangled awkwardly, but the feel of his body beneath yours was a wanted sensation. You could feel the contours of his muscles, the warmth of his skin beneath the layers.

"All you needed was a little bit of whipping to make you nice and docile," he teased darkly, exhaling hot air against the shell of your ear. "A firm hand and some promises, yeah?"

His hands released your wrists and you flopped over him uselessly.

"Now, hump me until you come," he added on, whispering harshly against your skin.

You barely had a second to contemplate that command before his hand fumbled with something on the bed sheets: a remote, most likely, for the intensity of the vibrations was suddenly increased.

It wasn't a conscious effort. You couldn't stop it even if you tried.

Hawks got what he wanted; you writhed above him, hips undulating and legs trembling, hands grabbing weakly at his shoulders, the bedding. You cried like a wounded animal, bucking against him uncontrollably. Hawks stared up at you with an evil look on his face, enjoying every second of it.

At some point, it became clear to you that you were shaking against his thigh while his erection pressed against your tummy. You gave in to the pleasure, sitting up on your knees and pressing down against his leg until the base of the toy was pushed deeper into you.

Through the garbled noises you made, you somehow managed to warn him, "I'm coming-!"

Hawks flattened one hand against your lower back, holding you tight against him, while his other hand reached beneath the hem of his pants.

You wanted to see pleasure dance across his face, but couldn't keep your eyes open. His moan was loud and burned where he exhaled it against your ear. If anything, it made your own trembling even more intense.

Your cries of pleasure followed. From your shaking, you nearly headbutted the hero. If he noticed, he didn't care. Hawks leaned into you, basking in the moment greedily as you undulated with pleasure.

As the intensity began to wind down, Hawks pressed kisses into your throat. He turned the toy off and, for a moment, everything was breathing: you, panting above him wildly, body shifting from the rise and fall of Hawks' chest beneath you as he too inhaled and exhaled deeply. His breath fluttered harshly over your skin and his chin hairs tickled your neck.

Eventually, you calmed down, and registered the wetness across your stomach. There was a snap of elastic as Hawks pulled his hand free. He dragged his fingers over the mess along your skin, and you could feel the grin he was pressing into your neck.

"Oops."

You couldn't help but laugh, just a little, which was likely his desired response anyway. The laughter stopped when Hawks carefully rolled you onto your back.

"Don't move. Let me clean you up," he requested as he leaned up, rising to his feet.

His feet tapped quietly on the floor as he walked away. You laid there, eyeing the window, watching water droplets splay across the glass until he returned.

Hawks removed the toy slowly before cleaning his spent off your skin with a wet washcloth. He disappeared again for a short minute, returning with a bottle of something. He rolled you onto your stomach, laughing when you squealed in surprise.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," you hummed as he began massaging lotion into the parts of your skin he had so thoroughly bruised last weekend.

The marks were no longer bright red, but a dull burgundy by now. The deepest parts, that had once been purple, were now a faded pink. His placements were immaculate: parts that would heal quickly.

"That's a shame," he replied hoarsely.

You sank down into the sheets, oddly pleased by his response.

Once you were fully healed, would he do it again? Likely, that was exactly what he was contemplating.

"Do you want to stay?" Hawks asked some time later, depositing the lotion bottle to the side table.

You rolled over to watch him pull his shirt and pants off. You had seen him nude multiple times by now, and had even placed your mouth on his sex. Still, you couldn't help but stare: at the muscles, at the scars, at the tan lines and bruises, at the blonde hairs and freckles dusting his skin.

"Are you sure that's okay?" you asked, leaning up to remove the lingerie.

Hawks reached you before you could even undo the tie. His hands gently pushed yours aside and took over. He carefully slid the fabric off and carelessly pushed it onto the floor before doing the same with your collar, letting it hit the end table with a 'thump'.

"Last week was an acci-"

Hawks interrupted you gently, "I want to check on your bruises in the morning. They... shouldn't be this red still."

You were fully capable of checking on your own bruises, not a whelp by any means, and you didn't really believe his statement, nor did Hawks sound very convincing. But, you wanted to stay, and decided to let him get away with it this time.

"Okay," you agreed softly.

Hawks came over you as you nuzzled into the sheets. You let out a confused noise, only to realize he was reaching for the lamp resting on the end table. He flipped the switch, casting the room into darkness.

You felt him move over you, slotting back onto his side. Only, his arm hooked on your waist and tugged you into him as he rolled back. You followed limply, releasing a soft noise when your back hit his chest.

"Thanks for indulging me," he uttered.

"I've-... fantasized about that, too," you replied nervously.

Hawks exhaled through his nose, sharp and sudden. You didn't ponder if that was a bad sound, for he immediately huffed out a weak laugh.

"Damn," he whispered hoarsely.

"What?" you huffed at him, sounding offended. Maybe you were, just a little bit.

"Just - you thinking about me like that," he answered gruffly. "That's dangerous. I won't be able to concentrate at the office."

"You barely concentrate now," you replied with some bite.

Hawks coughed out a laugh. He shuffled around, leaning up, and you turned your head to try and look at him through the darkness.

"I need some ice for that burn," he explained.

You laughed, calling his bluff, and Hawks slid back beneath the blanket and nuzzled up against your back. He was quiet for some time, leaving the room a buzz of the rain's downpour.

But, then, he uttered, "if I pushed too hard-"

"You didn't," you interrupted him sharply. "I liked it."

He was quiet after that, and you drifted away shortly after.

Chapter Text

There was a noise, something vibrating against a hard surface, sending an obnoxious, loud tremor across the room. It stirred you to consciousness against your will, and you leaned up tiredly, groaning at the intrusion.

The second thing you registered, after the harsh noise, was that there was a weight pressing down on your waist and something large laying against your back. Tired, and forced awake earlier than desired, you couldn't immediately determine what that was.

The third thing, which seemed to push you to proper consciousness faster, was the mess of red all around you. You blinked rapidly, and somehow became sensical enough to process what it was.

Hawks' feathers were scattered all over the bed. As you lifted and the blanket shifted, you realized they were in your hair, too. You brushed them out with a heavy hand, grunting, and counted three.

The weight behind you was the man himself, and the weight on your waist was his arm. The feathers scattered all over the bed would have been worrying if Hawks wasn't snoring gently behind you.

You turned over to peer down at him, and was briefly taken aback by how peaceful he looked. His face was smooshed into the pillow, and he was resting more on his front than his side, with one arm tucked beneath the pillow his head was resting on, and the other reaching for you, disturbed by your awakening. You laughed quietly, wondering how in the world he could even breathe like that.

Your eyes trailed over the curve of his muscular shoulder, down the expansion of his back, to where his wings jutted out from his shoulder blades.

Was this an invasion of his privacy? He wasn't exactly shy about exposing his nudity to you. The only rule was not to touch. He didn't say you couldn't look, but-

Despite your apprehensions, and the little, doubtful voice in your mind, you stared at the expansion of his exposed back. Hawks' wings were beautiful, crimson-feathered appendages that stretched wide down the curve of his back and across the bed sheets. The plumes were messy, likely from his sleeping.

His skin was taut where it tucked into the odd pores along his shoulder blades, where feathers grew from his skin. It looked a little uncomfortable, honestly, and you stared in wonder at the sight, where bristled plumes, baby feathers, stuck out from pale skin.

It occurred to you then, that the vibrating was coming from his cellphone, where it trembled furiously on the small end table against the armchair opposite the bed.

The fact that it hadn't woken Hawks was bizarre, so you took matters into your own hands, pressing down on the hero's shoulder and shaking him a little.

"Hawks? Hey - wake up, your phone-" you cooed at him soothingly, trying to gently coax him awake.

You stared down at his face, and watched a gold eye slowly peel open and look up at you sourly. You could have laughed at the expression he made as he leaned up, a huge frown on his face, hair a mess about his head, like a child woken from their slumber.

He stared dumbly at you for a moment, then turned to the direction of the noise and stared groggily across the room.

"Fuck," Hawks groaned as realization washed over him.

He rolled out of the bed, throwing the blanket off himself with a dramatic heave that tossed it on top of you. Shamelessly, you stared at his bare behind and toned thighs as he trotted over to retrieve his cell phone.

His wings fanned out, feathers spread wide, as he expanded his arms out in a dramatic stretch. His wings tucked back in and relaxed as he scooped the device off the table to answer it.

You briefly wondered why he didn't just send his feathers to retrieve it; however, as Hawks answered, and began talking, it became apparent as to why. He was mumbling into the phone, intentionally hushed to make sure you couldn't hear him.

It didn't sour the moment, really. Assistant or not, you didn't need to know everything about Hawks, and to be offended would be to exaggerate the meaning of this relationship. You weren't his girlfriend, nor his lover. It would have been foolish to think otherwise.

Hawks ended the call with a sigh and set his phone back down. You watched in awe as his feathers lifted off the bed and returned to his wingspan in an orderly fashion.

He turned to you with a guilty look on his face, scratching at the stubble on his jaw.

"Ugh-"

"Duty calls," you interrupted him with a smile.

He smiled back, albeit a small and disheartening one. It made your stomach flip with discomfort, leaving you to wonder exactly what was bothering him so much that he would look like that.

Hawks dressed in silence, pulling on his hero costume with a dull look on his face. He brushed through his wild hair with his fingers, and somehow managed to look flawlessly rugged and handsome with essentially no effort.

You frowned at the sight, trying to bottle up your jealousy. It faded away when Hawks leaned over the bed. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you; but, he pulled back, leaving your lips untouched.

He set something down on the end table, smacking it down with some effort so that it would make a noise and catch your attention. You glanced at it, recognizing the metallic shimmer of a key.

"You can head out whenever," he explained. "If you don't mind locking up?"

"You don't have to-" you began in protest.

Hawks was already stepping away. Careless to your nude state, you shimmied out of the blankets and followed him into the living room.

"Hawks, I-" you continued hoarsely.

The protest died when the winged hero stopped by the balcony door and turned to you, visor over his eyes and headphones propped over his ears. He gave you a perfectly innocent look, as though he really couldn't understand why a key to his apartment would be so concerning.

He was your boss for fucks sake; yet, you were worried about pushing him too far, worried of how you yourself would feel going over the line, as if your relationship wasn't already wildly inappropriate-

"Be safe," you offered weakly.

Hawks smiled sincerely this time. "Aww. You're worried about me?" he teased, his taunting tone not quite matching the sweet smile on his face.

The subtle glare you gave him, which looked more like a pout, silently told him to knock it off. Hawks laughed at that venomous look, eyes twinkling and smile deepening.

"No need to worry about me."

-and then he was gone, gliding off the balcony railing and taking to the sky, disappearing into the horizon before you could blink.

...

......

...

You stared at Hawks in disbelief, wondering exactly how this was the same man that you had spent multiple sexually depraved nights with.

He had made it to the afternoon meeting on Thursday, which was surprising enough, considering he hated these things. But, he had ordered takeout beforehand, and was sitting there with a paper bag and cup, and making absolutely no effort to be quiet about it, crunkling paper and slurping loudly on the drink straw.

Hawks hated district representative Obata, not that you could blame him. He was a vile man who liked to push anti-hero legislation, and regularly met with hero agencies to conduct audits under the guise of 'protecting society'.

Hawks was nice enough to the guy at a surface level; but, he wasn't subtle about how little he respected the man.

Part of you wanted to knock the food away before Obata popped a blood vessel from how annoyed he was. Part of you wanted to see that happen.

The meeting couldn't end soon enough, and as soon as Obata and his assistants were out the door, you turned on Hawks like a ravenous animal that had been poked too many times with a cattle prod.

"WHAT the HELL is wrong with you!?" you barked at him.

Hawks met your angry face with an unperturbed one, and finished the last of his chicken tenders with an annoying smack of the mouth.

You groaned and dragged your dominant hand down your face, staring at the number 3 hero of Japan, who was slouched back in his chair, looking more like a teenager than an adult, nor a professional hero at that.

"What's he gonna do, tell people I'm unprofessional?" Hawks asked with a careless shrug.

It was laughable, really, considering that was exactly the thing the media often said about him and the only viable criticism other top-ranking heroes could make. Hawks had a very high success rate and very low mortality rate. Civilians loved him and other heroes admired him, and for good reason.

You had the initial, gut-reaction to blurt out, 'yes, actually'. However, you knew what Hawks would retort with. His hero stats were some of the best, rivaled only by Almight and Endeavor, the latter of which had nearly twenty years more experience than the winged hero.

"I know he has no proper ground to stand on," you huffed out with a heavy sigh.

"I just would hate if he got in the way of our licensing just to spite you. Don't you want to take on several new heroes over the summer?"

"Sure, but-" Hawks stated, groaning as he sat up properly in his chair. "I have to shmuck up enough people as it is. Not gonna give it to him too."

You stared back at Hawks for a moment, taking in his words with a heavy heart.

He meant the Hero Commission, of course. After years of working so closely beside him, it was inevitable you would come to some conclusions, figure some things out. He was probably exhausted with the horse and pony show.

"Oh. Ugh - I - I see. I'm sorry, Hawks. I was out of line," you offered sincerely.

You lowered your head at him in a small bow, an apology, and heard an unpleased noise escape the winged hero.

The chair beneath Hawks squeaked loudly as he suddenly jerked up and pushed out from the table. Your eyes peered up, posture straightening, to follow his movement as he stepped around the conference table, a soft look on his face.

"You aren't out of line," he retorted gently. "You're doing exactly what I hired you to do."

"Man," you grunted, crossing your arms with a deep frown on your face, "if bossing you around was part of the job description, I would'a tried that years ago."

Hawks let out an amused snort.

"If I wanted a puppet who didn't question me, I would have fired you by now," he replied, clearly not joking.

Your lip twitched into a smile.

"Thanks," you offered weakly, unsure of what else to say to him.

"I've had assistants like that: afraid to tell me when I was wrong," Hawks explained. "Agreed with everything I said. Was why I'm so impressed with you: always was the first one to knock me down a peg."

It was lost on you, the fact that you were staring at Hawks with a dumb, fond look on your face. He had always been full of compliments; but, even after all this time, they never meant any less.

"Uhm-" you sputtered.

Hawks turned away from you and reached across the table to grab at the remains of his lunch. He shoved the cup in the bag and crumbled everything tightly together before dropping it in the nearby trash.

He wasn't acting as though he had just said something profound, but as if it was just another casual exchange. Maybe, he wasn't aware of how much it meant to you. Maybe, these things just came naturally to him.

As if to make you forget about his compliment-

"Don't forget: Obata wanted a report," Hawks chirped just before rounding the corner and disappearing through the doorway.

You grumbled noisily, shutting the door behind yourself on the way out.

...

......

...

It had been nearly four months since Hawks had been invited to a fundraiser. In the few years you worked for him, that was a record time gap.

Being a pro-ranking hero with a friendly persona, he was usually at the top of everyone's list, second only to Best Jeanist, especially when it came to posh events.

As his assistant, you often hooked your arm with one of his best heroes, and attended in his place, full of faux apologizes and condolences laced with syrupy bullshit as to why the winged hero couldn't attend himself.

Normally, you would have hated doing something like this. But, you never minded doing this for Hawks. Unlike CEO's and politicians, a hero actually had a good reason not to show up to these stupid parties.

You were sincerely surprised when Hawks actually did show up this time.

When you stepped out of the taxi, heels clacking on the concrete, you caught the crimson glimmer of feathered wings down the back of a black coat. His trademarked hair was as fluffy and gravity defying as ever.

You had a strong suspicion that Hakamada had made that suit just for him; it looked way too good for it to possibly be something Hawks would have chosen himself: too tight around the neck, too fitting at the waist. There was a swallowtail design falling down the back of the coat over his butt.

Yeah - definitely a Best Jeanist original.

"You clean up good," you teased as you approached him from behind, calling out a little louder than normal to ensure he could hear you over all the commotion.

Hawks turned, a very fake, albeit believable, smile on his face. It disappeared the second his eyes landed on your face. Shamelessly, Hawks looked you up and down with a dramatic swivel of his head, taking in the sight of the dress you picked out. He kept staring, kept moving his head, mystified, as if he hadn't seen you naked and bent over multiple times.

For a moment, you were afraid you were blushing when he let out a quiet whistle.

"Look at you," he commented breathlessly, leaning in close to ensure you could hear his hoarse voice over everything else.

"Now I'm really glad I went," he added on, lip twitching into a toothy grin.

You crossed your arms and gave him a look.

"Aren't we here for business," you scolded him with a half-assed frown.

"I knew I hired you for a reason," Hawks retorted, his brow rising as if he had stated something profound.

You laughed, just a little, at that, and watched Hawks begin to fumble with his coat.

"Ugh-" he stammered, pulling his phone out of his coat pocket for a second. He flipped through it quickly before shoving it away and pushing his jacket back into place.

"I have no idea what to do," he confessed bluntly, looking at you like you had all the answers.

You liked to think that you were good at your job, and worked hard to know things that seemed relevant to it. Sometimes, you were thrown for a loop; but, you had already attended a dozen or so of these fundraisers and had the process down.

"Just look pretty," you told him sharply, "and follow my lead."

As you walked by, Hawks trotted in and shoved his arm into the space between yours and your waist. You shot him a curious glance when he clasped your inner elbows together, hooking you together, side by side.

You were his assistant at a formal event, so no one would think anything strange of it. Perhaps, he just didn't want to lose you in the crowd, or get caught alone. Hawks might have been a very brave hero; but, he was pretty terrible when it came to social gatherings.

You made sure to first find the host of the event, trotting up to him with Hawks in tow. He gave him a slight bow and thanked him for the invitation. The winged hero caught on quickly and did the same. The old man looked absolutely thrilled that Hawks was here.

A few politicians, some well-known news anchors, a couple high-end journalists, and two retired heroes later, and you were officially done with "the rounds".

Out on the balcony, Hawks slumped down on a bench with a throaty exhale.

"Holy fuck - how the hell do you do this shit?" he whined.

You sat down beside him and smoothed out your dress.

"You pay me to do this," you retorted with a chuckle.

"I don't think you could pay me enough to do this. You should demand your boss give you a raise," he suggested dryly.

"I'll send him an email on Monday," you laughed.

Hawks fixed his posture with a grunt. "Now what?" he asked, giving you an uneasy glance.

"If you want to leave, I can think of a million excuses for you," you offered, looking back at him with a smile.

Hawks didn't even seem to contemplate it. He stood up with a heavy exhale and offered you his hand. You took it, and he helped you back to your feet. He didn't say it; but, you knew he couldn't leave.

The Hero Commission's State Affairs Officer had made it very clear that he needed to attend this fundraiser. While you didn't quite understand the relationship he had with them, you knew he wasn't in a position to tell them no. Yet, he did, a lot. But, sometimes, he had to bite the bullet.

When you returned to the great hall, Hawks was looking solemn, his hands loose at his sides and his wings limp behind him. The sight left a sickly feeling in your stomach.

Hoping to distract him, you nudged Hawks' forearm.

"I've learned from these events that the fish is never a good idea. But, the lamb skewers are usually pretty good."

Honestly, he wasn't feeling hungry; but, Hawks knew what you were doing, and went along with it. As long as it meant, for just a little while, the darkness would clear from his eyes.

Chapter Text

A few hours passed of you and Hawks mingling, sometimes with other heroes, but mostly with politicians or officials who's titled eluded you.

It was painful to see Hawks go from bubbly and happy when talking to heroes, to refrained and quiet when talking to politicians. It was like a switch flipping inside him, so effortlessly going back and forth. He was young and immature with other heroes, solemn and cold with the elites.

It was as if he had been trained to behave that way-

-and maybe he had been.

It was hard to determine which one was real: the starry eyed youngster or stone faced man. That thought left a stinging pain in your chest: a harsh reminder that you didn't really know Hawks.

Even if he had shared a side of himself that the rest of the world wouldn't know, was it really him when the mask was off, or was it just another?

But, there was one thing that you knew was real: the countless lives that he had saved. Sure, he accumulated a lot of wealth from that; but, Hawks never asked for the payout when detectives and police came his way, and you had written reports for many things that he was never properly credited for by the media.

That would have to be good enough, and who were you to ask him for more? His assistant, his partner. You couldn't bring yourself to call yourself his friend, even though you wanted to.

His lover-

Oh well, you didn't even allow yourself the delusion. You were nothing of the sort, just a convenient partner for him to play with, not that you minded. After all, you were getting something vast out of the arrangement, too.

It would just have to be enough.

Late into the night, your feet were a little sore and the winged hero, unsurprisingly, didn't look the least bit tired. The band had calmed the theatrics and were now playing a mellow jazz ensemble to quiet the crowd into the night.

Apparently, Hawks intended to see this whole thing through, even at your insistence that he could head out and you would cover for his absence.

It didn't occur to you that he had an ulterior motive.

Sometime around midnight, he gently took you by the elbow and ushered you through an empty hallway, away from the commotion. You trailed behind him down an empty hallway, completely oblivious to his intentions.

This was a public place after all, and surely Hawks wouldn't risk anything?

He guided you into a dark room, where you couldn't see far past the light shining in from the hallway. He closed the door behind you and pushed your body against it, pinning you between his weight and the mahogany. Still, despite the faint warning of what was to come, you gasped when his lips fell over yours. His tongue slipped inside, and you could taste the champagne he had toasted a few minutes ago with a stuffy, high-class lawyer.

You sunk back carelessly into the door, letting Hawks push harder against you. Your mouth opened wider, encouraging him to explore to his hearts desire.

It was a bad idea, really. You could get caught, and that would be a terrible look for him.

But, his hands were heavy where they cupped your waist like a perfect belt, and his taste was dragging you back into that careless, submissive role you had crafted so beautifully together.

Hawks pulled back with a soft smack, before trailing wetly down your throat. His teeth nipped your skin, picking away at your crumbling will power. He had barely touched you, and an ache was already blossoming between your legs.

"Tell me 'no'?" he suggested, panting softly as he shamelessly pressed his torso against the soft curves of your body, enjoying the squish of your breasts against his muscular chest.

You grunted an unladylike, disagreeing noise, and Hawks chuckled darkly.

"You want me," he growled approvingly. "In public, too. You little slut."

A strong hand grabbed at the back of your knee, pushing the fabric of your dress up your thigh. Once he had it high enough, he hiked your leg up onto his hip. He pressed the dress further up, until he could easily reach beneath.

He didn't fumble for long with the material of your panties, pushing the fabric aside so his fingers could venture deeper. His free hand slapped over your mouth just in time to silence a cry as the pad of his middle finger pressed against your clit in a well experienced motion.

Hawks' fingers gently dug into your cheeks while his palm pressed hard over your mouth. He leaned in close, lips almost touching his own knuckles, and stared imposingly into your eyes.

"So wet for me," he praised, letting an evil grin curl his lip.

You had no idea what this room was. There was a safety bulb plugged into an outlet near the floor, giving enough light to let you see Hawks just barely through the darkness, but not much beyond him. You could hear the muffled commotion from the grand hall, vibrating through the door. It likely was loud enough to block out your sounds; but, Hawks seemed to enjoy silencing you.

"Want to be touched, don't you?" he murmured hoarsely.

You nodded weakly, only to suddenly twitch at the shoulders when his hand twisted around. A calloused finger pushed past your folds and straight into your heat. The slick sound was startlingly loud, and had your thighs twitching against his waist.

"-fuck you with my fingers?" he continued his line of hoarse questioning, drilling his digit in a way that forced fleshy, wet sounds.

Your eyes fluttered shut from the pleasure.

"Look at me," Hawks growled, anger seeping through his tone.

You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly, and dug your fingers into the shoulders of his suit.

"Look away again, and you don't come," he threatened, snarling against the back of his hand. You could almost feel his warm breath seeping through his own skin onto yours.

"Look away again, and you won't get my belt," he added on lowly.

His teeth flashed in an evil smile when you shuddered at his words.

"Ahh. You want that, don't you?" Hawks taunted, huffing out a breath that nearly betrayed his evil tone.

Suddenly, his hand was pulling away from your heat and gripping your thigh to carefully drop your leg back down onto the floor.

"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you? Yeah, you are," he mumbled darkly, leaning over your shoulder to breathe hotly into your ear.

Hawks removed his hand from your mouth and grabbed at your inner elbow, pulling you away from the door.

"Walk over there," he commanded, guiding you further into the dark room.

You obeyed on wobbly legs, fearful that you might trip over the unseen. After a few steps, suddenly, he shoved you forward, and you cried out as you nearly collapsed, only to land chest-down on a wood surface that had to be a desk. You laid there in a stupor for a moment, wondering how Hawks could see through the dark.

"Straighten up," he growled.

You leaned up on your elbows and adjusted your posture, moaning when his hands lifted your dress until the fabric was pooled over the curve of your ass.

You gasped when he tugged your panties down your thighs, tugging the fabric harshly. You felt him shifting, kneeling behind you, and he lifted each foot to help you step out of them, ensuring they didn't catch on your shoes.

You didn't know where your panties went after that; the thought was lost when you heard the metallic clanging of Hawks undoing his belt, and the whooshing sound as he pulled it through the straps along the waistline of his pants. The sound echoed in your ears, a sweet promise of what was to come.

"What do you say?" he asked, dragging the belt gently up the back of your thigh so you could feel the leather against your skin.

"Pleas-"

He didn't even let you finish, tossing his wrist so that the smooth, leather of the belt cracked over your skin. It hit right beneath your behind, along the meat of your thigh. He was much gentler than he had been with the proper toy; still, the harsh sting of pain had you screaming.

"Hm? What do you say?" Hawks demanded in a harsh whisper, smacking you again with the smooth, flat side of his belt before you could even inhale.

He struck you a few more times, alternating sides, and received a pathetic sob or cry each time, depending on whether or not you had managed to catch your breath.

Remembering his demand, you managed a pathetic, "thank you, sir," breathless and disgustingly lustful.

The belt dropped to the floor with a noisy clatter before you heard a thump. You barely had a second to be confused over what had happened before something wet was dragging up your folds. The rough drag of his chin hairs filled in your imagination to what he was doing.

He wasted no time slipping his tongue inside, wiggling against your velvety walls. Your thighs shook, and Hawks growled into your skin.

You whined, cheek smooshed into the desk, and resisted the urge to reach back and grab at his hair.

Just because master didn't bind your wrists, didn't mean you had permission to touch him. Oh, but if you did, then he would punish you, wouldn't he?

Spurred on by that thought process, you reached back and carefully slotted your fingers through his hair, reveling the softness of those messy strands. Hawks moaned into your flesh, sincerely enjoying the drag of your digits through his roots.

But, of course, he couldn't let you get away with that.

Hawks pulled back and rose to his feet with a growl. He pushed your extended arm onto the desk, pinning your limb with his strong grip. He arched over you, and you felt the weight of his chest press down on your back, and then his hot breath into your hair line.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

When you didn't answer quickly enough, his hand collided harshly with the skin of your ass. You managed to bite back a scream, jolting at the rough touch.

"Hm?" he demanded in a harsh hiss.

"No, sir," you panted out.

He yanked you to your feet, so harshly that it left you a little dizzy. Luckily, he held you tightly against his chest, ensuring you couldn't fall. He peppered soft kisses against your cheek, releasing a breath that smelt strongly of champagne.

Delirious, you turned your head, and moaned loudly when he granted your silent plea and allowed his lips to fall over yours. His hands made quick work of your dress, skillfully undoing the top bindings until he could pull it off your shoulders. The fabric fluttered away and gathered where it was cinched at your tummy.

You gasped when he spung you around. With an effortless heave, he had you lifted and deposited onto the desk. The surface rattled beneath your leg. One of your heels slipped off your foot and clattered noisily to the floor as your legs swung up to drape elegantly over his hips.

Hawks busied himself with your now exposed chest, sucking harshly on one nipple while his other hand tugged the other between his digits. You sobbed helplessly, back arched and legs tight around his waist. The heat of your center begged for attention, desperately empty.

Desires he had denied you bubbled up: you wanted his cock buried inside you, to pump your cunt like a sleeve until he was satisfied. You wanted him to cover your mouth with his hand while he did it. Or maybe, you wanted his hand around your throat at the threat to squeeze if you made a sound.

His hand curled over your core and you whined as a couple fingers trailed along your wet slit teasingly. Your eyes were closed, head a little dizzy; but, you smelt that champagne breath again and parted your lips obediently. Hawks laughed darkly before slotting his mouth over yours, just as he slid two fingers into your heat, and gobbled up your sob.

His wings flapped behind him, a dramatic gesture that stirred air in the stagnant room. Vaguely, you realized he was doing it to catch sounds from outside. It was amazing, really, how he could manage to focus on so many different things at once.

Feathers slipped free from his wingspan, separating to disappear into the darkness. Some fluttered around the room, and many others crawled all over you.

It should have felt invasive or unpleasant: feeling his feathers curl around your thighs, along your chest to pinch at your nipples, up the back of your neck and into your hair. Perhaps, it was the knowledge that they were Hawks' feathers that made it pleasant; they felt familiar, like his touch. You squirmed from the pleasure as one found your clit.

You tore your lips away from his to murmur, "-m close. P-please, can I-"

"Really?" Hawks uttered back darkly. His condescending tone had you fluttering your eyes open to meet his gaze. In the darkness of this room, staring down at you, with shadows cast over his face and eyes glowing, he looked evil.

But, you were anything but scared.

"You're gonna cum on a strangers desk?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Actually, that's a lie-" he corrected himself with a harsh chuckle, "-this is Takao's office."

Takao? Who-

-oh, that's right. This was a region organized fundraiser, and Takao was an appointed lawyer, and one who wasn't at all shy about his distrust of heroes, especially ones like Hawks, and had even threatened him legally on many occasions.

You probably - definitely - should have been mad about it. Maybe, you were more vindictive than you originally knew, or maybe the winged hero was bringing that out in you. He really was a bad influence, wasn't he?

Oh, but it felt so good.

"Maybe I should turn you over, so you can scratch it up," Hawks suggested, grinning down at you like a madman.

You shuddered, despite the thought of what a terrible idea that was. Hawks pushed your legs up higher with his free hand, until they brushed his ribs. He leaned in closer, practically climbing on top of you, and drilled his fingers faster.

You could feel sweat glistening on the surface of your skin, prickling as your orgasm grew closer. Hawks trailed nibbling kisses along your chest, and his hair tickled your skin. His wings would flap periodically, the sound not quite loud, but a delicious thrum in your ears.

"-use my belt to tie you to it, lick you until you're crying," Hawks mumbled, ensuring you could hear him, despite the words sounding like they weren't intended for you, as if he was just pondering thoughts out loud.

"-spank that cute little ass 'till it's red," he added on, voice rough like tumbling gravel.

He leaned up and kissed at your hair line before resting his lips over the shell of your ear. Your eyes had closed at some point, and you were vaguely aware of how badly you were shaking.

"Beg me to come," he snarled.

"Sir, please," you whined, head tilting back.

His free hand released your thigh, disappearing from your skin. He scooted back away from the table and dragged you closer to the edge.

"Please," you cried again, even though Hawks hadn't slowed his hand, and was clearly intending to get you there.

The pace of his wing beats had grown faster and his feathers vibrated against your skin where they pinched and twirled. His shoulder moved against your leg, back and forth, and you heard the most sinful moan pour from his lips across your skin.

You came with a cry, shaking against the table, skin burning hot and thinly layered with sweat. Hawks slowed his fingers as you came down. His feathers calmed, but remained close, clinging to you as if they had nowhere else to go.

You were sharply aware of the movement of his arm, and whined pitifully into the dark room.

"Sir," you called out to him, wiggling around in an attempt to break free from his old.

"Sir, please, let me," you continued.

Hawks leaned his head up and looked down at you with his eyes half-lidded and lips parted, an almost pained look on his face as he touched himself.

You couldn't stand it.

"Let me - please, please, let me," you complained like a scolded child.

"You'll ruin your suit," you added on fiercely, chest heaving with your labored breathing.

"Master, please-"

That seemed to be the final straw, for Hawks let out a frightening sound, a growl that rumbled through his chest like the roar of a motor. His arm's jerky movements finally came to a halt.

"Shut up," Hawks snarled, warm, champagne breath washing over your face.

"Shut the fuck up," and again, venomous and angry.

It was thrilling. The wild look of his gold eyes stirred up powerful emotions inside you. You reached for him again, ignoring his earlier threat, and clawed weakly at his coat like a needy, senseless child.

"Fine," he uttered darkly.

Hawks pulled you off the table, and let you drop inelegantly to the floor, crumbling to your knees at his feet. One of your knees landed directly on his shoed foot, not that he seemed to care. The positioning brought you eye level with his cock, which you stared at shamelessly where it hung out of his barely opened pants.

Even through the dark room, you could see the beautiful shade of purple tinting the tip. Pre-come was oozing out the slit and, as you slid your hand over his length, you could feel the angry throb of the vein on the underside.

You sucked him down immediately, gagging at your overzealous efforts. There was a loud noise as Hawks' hands grabbed at the edge of the desk. He hunched over, gripping the wood so firmly, it squeaked in protest. You could feel his legs trembling as you bobbed your head.

"Ohhh-" he moaned, the sounding breaking off into a hiss.

At this angle, you couldn't see, but you could feel his eyes peering down at you. It was a bit disappointing, honestly - just a bit, for you wanted to see the look of pleasure on his face, watch him go cross eyed as you suctioned tightly on the tip before going back down as far as you could.

The desk squeaked again, and you briefly worried he was going to break it.

"Fuck-" he cursed hoarsely.

Recognizing that tone, you didn't dare slow down.

"-agh-!"

One of his hands let go of the desk. A moan broke through the room before it was abruptly silenced, no doubt by him biting down on his own hand. The warmth and salt of his seed filled your mouth, and you carefully swallowed in patient gulps, ensuring none of it spilled past your lips and got on his suit.

Hawks exhaled hoarsely when you slid up and down his length a few more times, slow and careful, as his orgasm waned. You lingered, feeling his shaft throb from the intensity, and gagged when the soft tip brushed just a little too deep.

His hand finally touched you, fingertips sliding carefully over your exposed shoulders. Only then did you finally remember how obscene you looked, breasts exposed, dress partially undone, hair likely a hot mess. His fingertips traced the protrusions of your shoulder blades in delicate patterns.

"That's enough," he sighed, shifting his free hand to cup your jaw.

Rather than moving back yourself, you let Hawks remove your mouth from his length, carefully pulling you back until his tip slipped from your lips. You peered up at him through glistening eyes, and was startled by the absolute look of adoration on his face.

"Good girl," he praised, petting your cheek with a large hand.

He leaned over, hooked at arm around your waist, and pulled you up onto your feet.

"Good fucking girl," he praised again, voice hoarse and blissful, before pepping your lips and face with soft kisses.

He pressed against your mouth and carefully dipped his tongue inside, tilting his head and smooshing your cheeks together. You whined as he explored, as if ensuring you hadn't wasted a single drop. His hands caressed your exposed back, holding you tight against his clothed chest.

The taste of champagne and your own essence lingered, weakening the longer you kissed, until all that remained was just him.

Eventually, Hawks pulled back, and started tugging at your dress. You helped him pull the straps back up and sighed when he smoothed out the fabric with careful hands, leaning back to ensure you were properly covered.

You reached for your hair, but found his feathers beat you to it, tugging at loose strands. His own hands joined in. With some careful finger-combing, and reassembling your ties and pins, he returned your updo to something more presentable.

You were pulled into an embrace, bare feet tiptoeing atop his dress shoes.

"I should have asked first," Hawks commented softly, his wings flapping again.

"I don't recall complaining," you retorted smoothly.

He hummed, satiated, and started fumbling with your dress again.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Of course," you replied brightly.

You held onto his shoulders for balance, and stepped back into your shoes. Hawks tucked himself away before one of his feathers delivered his belt into his hands. Before he could thread it through the belt loops, you gently smacked his hand away and used your fingers to tuck his undershirt back in. He laughed quietly, but otherwise made no effort to stop you.

After some fiddling with his tie and smoothing out the wrinkled shoulders on his coat, Hawks pulled you back into an embrace, forcing your head to lean into his shoulder.

For a moment, you stayed like that, hyper-focused on the muffled music carried down the hall and Hawks' large hands curled against your back. He swayed slightly where he stood, moving you, as well. It likely wasn't intentional, as he was just helping you down from a scene; but, you couldn't help but think about how he couldn't do this with you out there.

A slow dance with his assistant-

How improper...

He pulled away and gave you a final look over.

"Oh, my - ugh-" you uttered, realizing that something was missing.

With a grin, Hawks reached into his pocket, and fished out something small and wadded up. He held it up to show it you, as if triumphantly. You stared at the sight, briefly expecting him to hand them over. However, before you could even think to reach, Hawks was shoving the dainty material back into his pants pocket.

"I'm keeping these," he answered boldly.

His eyes locked on yours, expressing an unspoken offering, that he would gladly hand them over if you only asked. However, the thought of him walking around this stupid party with your underwear wadded up in his pocket, like some kind of trophy, was oddly alluring.

"Yes, sir," you answered, lips twitching into a faint grin.

You pulled away from Hawks, and heard a pleased, chuckle-like sound escape him.

"Do I look okay?" you asked, stopping at the door.

"Yeah," he breathed.

Better, actually; but, Hawks decided not to say that out loud.

Chapter Text

The mood was different the next time you stepped into Hawks’ apartment.

He was there at the door to greet you, like always. He was wearing comfortable clothes, bare feet on the cool tiles. Only, there was something charged in his stare. It wasn’t cold or condescending. He looked a little upset, but not in the way you had grown used to these past several months. It wasn’t that fake anger he conjured to fuel the persona he had created in your time together.

Tonight, there was something heated in his stare. It wasn’t frightening; rather, it made you feel safe. When his palm gently cupped your chin, fingers spread across your jaw, tilting your head back to force eye contact, you felt a trickling warm spread through your chest.

It was a little surprising, for a moment.

But, when you thought about what had conspired only a few days ago, it seemed obvious why he was acting this way. You didn’t want to allow yourself the fantasy of believing that it would change anything. Hawks was a hero, after all. It was his job, and you were just a nobody, doing your job, like everyone else.

Only, the look he was giving you conveyed something quite different.

“You scared me,” he uttered darkly. “I expect an apology…”

…

…

…

It had happened earlier in the week, on a rather unsuspicious Monday.

You didn’t own a car, as you didn’t need one to get through the city. A year or so ago, after settling into your new role as Hawks’ assistant, you moved to an apartment within walking distance. Plenty of grocery stores, bars, cafes, doctors’ offices and everything in-between were a short train ride away, if not easily accessible on foot. You could also take the ferry across the river if needed, and always enjoyed the salty air carried by the oceanic breeze.

You had a meeting scheduled across town and needed to take the bullet train to get there. It was just another day, another trip you had taken many times before, another cart you had likely been in several times before without ever considering it. It was just another day.

Until it wasn’t.

Something had crashed into the train, forcing it off the tracks and to a screeching, fiery halt. The first cart was almost completely demolished from the collision, and the following harshly piled up on the tracks behind it. The force had knocked you across the aisle, and a harsh slam into the hand rail had rendered you unconscious.

You were in and out in the following hours, bleary vision giving you glimpses of red cloaked skies.

When you woke up in the hospital, you figured it had been your wild imagination supplying a frivolous dream. The news was playing on the TV in your room as the doctor went over your discharge paperwork. A villain had caused the train crash and Hawks had descended upon the scene, a tornado of red feathers pulling civilians from the burning wreckage.

The news channel had gotten amazing footage of the scene, a beautiful barrage of red feathers swarming the cart in a furious tornado, carrying people into the sky before carefully descending them to where emergency personnel were parked with ambulances, waiting for them.

There was a very brief and blurry clip of Hawks exiting the train. His back was turned, his wingspan small and empty as his feathers filled the sky. His arms were curled inward, back arching forward, implying that he was holding something, or someone.

The footage ended, and the scene returned to the reporting news analyst explaining what had happened. Through a beautiful smile, the reporter babbled on about the amazing rescue Hawks performed, how he had arrived on the scene in record time, and not a single life was lost thanks to his speed.

The reporter’s voice faded away when the doctor stepped into the room. You tried to ignore the flushed feeling of shame and joy that made your tummy spiral, and tried to focus on the discharge information. Luckily, you had suffered no severe injuries. You had been pulled from the wreckage before suffering any smoke inhalation and the hero who had saved you took care to ensure your neck remained acute, leading to no accidental spinal injuries.

One of the rookie’s escorted you home from the hospital, made sure you made it safely up the elevator, and even offered to run any errands for you, which politely rejected, of course. For some time, you laid in bed and thought about it all, about Hawks rushing to the scene.

The fact that you were was just a coincidence, right? Sure, he had access to your schedule, and you always told him about meeting you had. But, that didn’t mean-… He wouldn’t have-…

Those intrusive thoughts kept you awake until the pain medicine finally kicked in, and you were able to drift into a pleasant sleep.

The next day, you got dressed and walked to work, as if nothing had happened. You were immediately faced with Hawks as soon as you passed the threshold. He didn’t wait a second to beckon you into his office. As soon as the door shut, the mask he wore vanished, and you realized how angry he truly was. You had seen plenty of fake glares, forced anger when he was pretending to set a mood during a scene. This was different.

This was real.

“What are you doing here? You should be at home,” he chastised, immediately knocking his visor off his face, careless to where it landed.

His irritation startled you, but only for a moment.

You put your foot down, crossing your arms, and returned his glare.

“I’m fine,” you retorted. “-m just sore. No reason I can’t be here.”

“You’re not fine,” Hawks shot back, his voice rising just a little. “You almost-” He cut himself off with a groan and dragged a heavy hand through his hair.

Hawks’ headphone followed, roughly yanked off his neck and tossed onto his desk. It was then that you finally saw the bags under his eyes, the dark tint on his eyelids. He dug his index finger and thumb into his closed eyes, turning away from you as he harshly rubbed his face. The coffee mug on his desk was startlingly aromatic. You could smell the caffeine from across the room.

“You should go home-”

“If anyone needs to go home, it’s you, Hawks,” you challenged him, letting your voice be harsh. “You look-”

“Don’t,” he snapped, turning back towards you.

The venom in his voice was frightening, alongside the angered look he gave you; however, he blinked it away immediately, looking regretful. There was the slightest moment that startle danced across your face, before it morphed back into anger.

“You-” he began.

“I-” as did you, cutting him off.

The room was still for a moment. You jolted a little when Hawks’ cellphone suddenly he went off. He harshly yanked it out of his pocket and squeezed it, pushing the side button and stopping the ringing. You stared at him, confused, especially when he tossed the phone onto his desk, reckless as it skidded across the surface.

“Look, I-”

He shifted forward suddenly, startling a gasp out of you and cutting off your statement. His arms curled up behind your back, carefully pulling you into a weak embrace. His head drooped into the space above your shoulder, hesitant to make contact, likely out of fear of hurting you. You stared over his shoulder, watching his wings fold in and sag against his back.

You sighed into the embrace, lifting your hands to slide them up his chest, and pressed yourself against him. He remained strong as your weight bore into him. Even in this tired state, he was unyielding, and it made you feel undeserving of such attention. When his arms tightened, you felt a slight ache in your lower back, but didn’t allow yourself flinch, afraid he would pull away.

This wasn’t appropriate for work, even with the door being closed. You knew that, and surely he did, too; but, you didn’t want him to pull away. Rather, you leaned in closer, trying to encourage him to touch you more. It worked, for his hands slithered up your spine, as if mapping out the surface.

“I meant what I said: I’m just sore,” you offered weakly, letting your cheek fall onto his shoulder. “Hawks, I can’t – I don’t want to be cooped up in my apartment.”

He understood that, more than you would ever know.

“…okay,” came his quiet, hoarse reply. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

As his arms started to pull away, you decided to make a leap. Normally, Hawks was the one who initiated; but, you decided, it would be you this time.

“It’s fine. I – uhm - can I come over Friday?” you whispered, tilting your head back to peer up into his eyes as he removed himself from the embrace.

He blinked, and you could almost hear the rejection as he mulled it over in his head.

You were still recovering. Even if you were just sore, as you claimed, that didn’t mean that a few days was adequate recovery time. But, as Hawks stared at your face, taking in the soft look of hope, he allowed himself to admit that, clearly, you both needed it.

Hawks replied, “yeah,” before swallowing dryly.

His eyes drifted down your face before rapidly shifting back up to your eyes. You tilted your head back, as if to answer that silent request, only, his phone started to ring again, and Hawks pulled away to answer it this time. Before you could hear too much of the conversation, you exited his office.

…

…

…

An apology.

You were certain you knew what he meant by that.

Hawks pulled his hand away, and you carefully set your bag aside, letting it drop forgotten to the floor, before beginning to descend in front of him. Before your knees were even close to the ground, Hawks grabbed at your bicep, and pulled you back up to stand properly.

“What’re you doing?” he snarled, dragging you in close.

Panic blossomed across your face. “Ugh - apologizing?” you offered weakly.

“That’s not how you apologize to me,” Hawks scolded, his brow sunken low over his eyes.

“Don’t insult me,” he added on darkly, giving your bicep a gentle squeeze. The venomous words had you trembling with delight and, honestly, you were a little disappointed he didn’t punish you for that misunderstanding.

“Now, do it right.”

That was how every dom before had expected an apology: on your knees, groveling at their cock with pitiful begging words. You felt foolish to assume that Hawks would expect one the same way, and even more foolish when you realized you didn’t know how he wanted an apology.

Luckily, he answered that silent plea. He let go of your arm, lifted his hand to his face, and tapped the pad of his finger against his cheek, before turning his head away from you.

With a soft gasp, deliriously endeared by his method, you leaned forward, planting your hands on his shoulders for balance, and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “I’m sorry, sir.”

You could see him give you a glance from the corner of his eye before his gaze shifted away again, and he released a displeased, quiet exhale. A brief feeling of panic and excitement washed over you, and you leaned forward, kissing his cheek again, and a second time, just to be safe, before apologizing again.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

He blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t react. Spurred on, you tried again, this time delivering something suave to his cheek, feeling his fine beard hairs tickle your chin.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

He turned his head towards you, looking unimpressed. The frown on his face seemed more challenging than it did discouraging, especially when accompanied by the burning stare of his golden eyes.

This time, when you leaned in, you peppered butterfly kisses along the corner of his mouth, avoiding his lips as if you absolutely were not allowed to dare touch him there. Before you could utter sweet pleas to him again, a huff escaped his nose that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Your fingers fumbled with his shirt where they clung to his shoulders, torn between temptation and nerves.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

Hawks tilted his head down ever so slightly, and you took that as an invitation to kiss his lips. He didn’t reciprocate; but, when you leaned back, you saw a faint smirk appear. You gently pressed another kiss, and then another, leaning in until most of your body weight was pressed against him. His hands finally reached for you, grabbing onto your waist for purchase.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm,” Hawks hummed, blinking down at you.

As you stared up into those sunset eyes, you thought about what a monster he was.

And more importantly, how much you loved it.

You leaned back in, this time adorning his other cheek with kisses, one right after the other, making soft smacking sounds as you did so. He huffed softly when you kissed at his beard line. At that sound, you returned to his mouth, finding your methods rather desperate at this point. This time, however, he kissed back, arching over you as he did so.

You moaned, embarrassingly loud, in response.

When he pulled back, he made a thoughtful sound. “…are you?” he uttered.

“Yes,” you breathed.

A calloused hand slid up your neck and you tilted your head approvingly, eyes fluttering shut. Deliriously, you thought about how massive his hand was, how easily he could cup your throat, how far across his fingers could circle the delicate flesh. However, in that moment, he was holding you gently. There was the slightest bit of a threat there, and it felt good.

“Are you?” he repeated, a little darker this time.

Your eyes fluttered open and you released a nervous breath. “Sir, I’m sorry I scared you.”

Hawks’ thumb trailed your cheek and you watched a series of emotions play out across his face. His other arm locked tight against your lower back and pulled you in, forcing your body against his. He felt firm, strong, and the pressure was a little painful, not that you cared to contest that. The smell of his cologne was gentle and reminded you of the ocean.

“Tonight… I’m going to fuck you.”

The words had left you stupefied, staring at him as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said.

Hawks huffed out a brief, quiet laugh, seemingly pleased by the stare you gave him.

“Would you like that?” he offered, a little teasing, but clearly sincere.

As if on autopilot, you replied quietly, “yes, sir.”

He leaned in, dragging his stubble against your cheek, until his lips touched your temple.

“You want my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you panted, eyelids fluttering and hands now a death grip on his shoulders.

His hand, that had been gently caressing your neck, shifted to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. You cried out softly when he pulled your head back, grip careful to ensure he didn’t hurt you. Your eyes squeezed shut, not out of pain or fear, but from pleasure and excitement.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

You huffed out a weak breath, leaning into him and silently begging him to continue.

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist when you want it so fucking badly,” he continued. “Even when you don’t say it. The way you look at me. Makes me wanna tie you up – use you every single night.”

A full body shudder betrayed whatever dignity you had left.

“Would that be enough for you?” Hawks murmured darkly. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You didn’t quite respond verbally, but your grip on his shoulders tightened.

He laughed darkly. “No, no, it wouldn’t be. You want me to come inside you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but you still tried to answer, whimpering out an agreeing sound.

“Yeah,” he agreed through a heavy exhale. “Just fucking you isn’t enough. You have to be full of me, even after I’m done with you. You want to feel it – remember it. Maybe, I’ll make you walk around my apartment while it leaks out of you.”

“Hawks-” you cried out, his name escaping as if against your will.

“Shhh,” he cooed, lips dragging against your skin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled back. You were breathing a little harsher than usual, you realized, cheeks flushed red as Hawks stared at you like a hungry, wild animal.

His knuckles dragged along your cheek before he pulled his hand away.

“Babybird, are you sure you still want this?” he asked, his tone as sweet as he could manage while making that face: a look that made it clear he was being serious.

He had spun you deep into the abyss; but, that concerned question had sobered you up enough to give him a proper answer.

“Yes, Hawks,” you breathed. “Of course I do.”

“I won’t be able to be sweet on you tonight,” he warned in a soft voice that contrasted that implication.

You didn’t ponder it for long. You weren’t sure if you wanted it sweet. When you were in between these nightly visits, you dreamt of him taking you properly. It was rarely ever sweet at the start. In your dizzy daydreams, he fucked you like he owned you.

With some bite, you answered sharply, “if I wanted sweet, I’d get a boyfriend.”

For a moment, Hawks was quiet, staring at you with a surprised look on his face. But, then, that look formed into an amused and wild smirk.

“Yeah,” he agreed darkly.

His lips fell over yours, wet and possessive, devouring. You let your hands venture into his hair, forgetting your place for a moment as he kissed you. Hawks seemed to forget, too, for he didn’t bother attempting to stop you. He held you close, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, forcefully drawing sounds out of you.

You both had drifted away for a moment, before he harshly pulled back with a wet smack. Hawks released you from his hold, though your grip on his shoulders and weight pressing into him kept you upright. With a careful hand, he cupped your bicep and pushed you away. You staggered back willingly, finding your footing.

Wordlessly, he tilted his head slightly in the direction of the hallway, a cold look in his eyes. You started for his room, and he followed behind you, looming like a dangerous shadow.

As you approached, your ears picked up a faint melody, a saxophone carrying a long note that hummed pleasantly through the room. Sure enough, as you crossed the threshold, you spotted the small radio lit up on the table by his chair. The saxophone finished what was likely the end of a long and beautiful solo before the piano picked up.

The hallway light turned off behind you, casting darkness into the room. A dim lamp at the bedside table was all that illuminated the room, casting a faint, pale glow. Even with your clothes on, the room felt colder than usual, and you knew it was intentional. However, the knowledge of Hawks’ presence made you feel warm and congested in your clothes.

As if reading his mind, you started undressing. Hawks remained behind you, and you could feel his eyes staring as your skin became bare. You couldn’t see his glare, however, as bruises that he didn’t make became exposed.

Once the final article hit the ground, fingertips spread across your back. You sighed as he traced invisible patterns across your skin. He leaned in, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.

“We have a new rule,” he advised firmly.

You exhaled heavily.

“Only I’m allowed to bruise and cut your skin,” Hawks whispered, standing so close that he was nearly touching you. “For every mark that isn’t mine, you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered in a mewl that showed how much you liked this new rule.

A large hand enveloped the back of your neck and pushed you forward. You staggered a little, before finding your footing as he maneuvered towards the bed. He pushed you over the edge and you followed the motion, bending over at the waist so that your chest and cheek touched the bed while your legs held your ass in the air, bare feet on the floor.

Hawks leaned up, eyes and hands trailing over you. He pressed up against you, letting you feel his clothed erection, his strong legs and abdomen.

“One,” he started, gently sliding his palm over a large bruise under your ribs.

He was careful, though you still winced slightly at the touch.

“…two… three…”

You drifted away as he counted, finding marks you had no idea about, in places your eyes couldn’t reach as easily as his could. He leaned back, stepping away a little, and nudged your legs apart. You tried not to shudder as your sex became exposed and the cold air washed over you. He had seen your nudity countless times before; but, you doubted you could ever truly get used to this.

“…eight… nine…”

“Hawks,” you pleaded.

His hand gently brushed the back of your head, a condescending touch, and he cooed a soft, “shush.” However, there was some warning in that tone, that he wasn’t going to tolerate that, and you sagged obediently into the bed.

He was quiet for a little while, hands wandering with his eyes, touching as if he couldn’t quite see you properly unless his fingertips did, too.

“Nine marks, babybird,” he uttered, sighing with annoyance.

For a brief second, you were afraid you were going to cry. Your sober self knew he didn’t mean it; but, you allowed yourself to drift down so far so quickly, and was already feeling the bubbling shame of damaging your master’s property. You pressed your face into the sheets and tried to ignore it.

“Knees on the bed,” Hawks commanded, sounding impatient.

You leaned up on your elbows with a dry inhale and pulled your legs up onto the bed. For a moment, you pondered what he intended to use. Then, you could hear a wispy sound as something floated over you and then a pinch as Hawks grabbed it: the sound of leather squeezed against skin. You knew what it was before he touched you with it. He dragged it gently over your back, letting the loose leather touch your skin.

“Color?” he murmured.

That was sobering, reminding you that this didn’t have to happen.

A dark part of your mind wanted the punishment, reveled in the knowledge that he cared that you had been in danger, that you had been hurt. The rational side recognized the need that you both felt, to give and to take, and how that carnal desire calmed the harsh realities of your lives.

You turned your head and spotted one of his wings spread wide, the fine, red plumes of his feathers trembling slightly, rippling from the base to the ends.

Even without being able to look at his face, his wings gave away his desire. He was anxious, itching to hit you, to strike your skin and make you cry. That thought wasn’t quite as alarming as your response was. Surely, a normal person would find that frightening; however, you flushed with excitement and moaned approvingly, arching your back.

“Green, please – please,” you whimpered pathetically.

“One more time, be honest,” Hawks whispered, arching over you carefully.

His nondominant hand curled over the back of your neck, holding you down, forcing you to submit. Your fingers clawed at the bedsheets, messing up how tidy they were and wrinkling the surface. You whimpered and Hawks lessened his grip. You inhaled sharply and felt his thumb move apologetically up and down the skin along your hairline.

“I want this,” you answered, voice a little stronger than it was a moment ago.

You heard him swallow and felt him lean up. He dangled the wispy ends of the whip over your skin, a warning, before drawing it back and cracking it across the back of your thigh, right beneath the swell of your ass.

He wasn’t nearly as rough as he had been in the past. Clearly, he was holding back; but, it still hurt, and the contact managed to force a startled scream out of you.

He was close enough for you to feel his warmth, but not close enough for you to feel how his cock twitched in his pants at the sound you made. The grip he has on the back of your neck kept you still, even as you jerked at the contact. The whip came down again, the sound of skin contact a loud echo in the room.

“Count,” he snarled.

“Tw-”

The whip came down again before you could finish.

Hawks stared at your face, only shifting his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t hitting you too hard or in the wrong place. It was difficult to look away when he could see tears gathering in your eyes, red staining your cheeks, pain and pleasure flashing across your face.

Some distant part of his mind told him how sick he was. His only reprieve was that you liked it, and that reminder was the only thing keeping that nagging voice quiet.

…four…five…

Hawks shifted back and moved to your other side, using his knee to push your legs a little further apart as he settled, trading hands. He adjusted his grip on your neck, a little more gently than he had been with his other hand. He waited, listening to your breathing, ensuring it was steady enough, less he accidentally hurt you improperly.

Then, the whip came down again. The other side hurt a little more than you expected, only because you had grown accustomed to the blossoming pain on the other side. Your scream was a little startling, even to your own ears. If Hawks was concerned about it, he didn’t show it.

…six…seven…

You couldn’t hear yourself count, though you knew you were doing it out loud, like master told you too. You couldn’t tell how you sounded, raw and sinful, like nothing mattered more than what he was doing. You felt some tears shed and turned your head to let them drip into the sheets.

…eight…nine…

Hawks dropped the whip and immediately drew you up into his arms. You were pulled limply, and cried out, not in pain or agony, but shame and delight. He crossed his legs on the bed and cradled you in his lap, pressing his lips over your cheeks to clean up your tears. You clawed at his shirt and wiggled forward until your legs tangled, planting your sex right over a thick thigh.

“Did so good,” he praised, pushing your hair out of your face. “Such a good girl.”

You whimpered like an animal, blinking away tears. His hard-on was trapped between you, but your thoughts were consumed by his warmth beneath your core, the soft material of his pants pressing against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he observed through a heavy sigh.

Were you? You hadn’t thought about it until now that you could feel his clothes clinging to you, could feel his bare hands warming your skin. It was so cold in this room, but God he felt so warm.

Hawks’ hands shifted down and grabbed at the meat of your waist, pulling you forward slightly. That movement created friction that sent jolts of pleasure through you, which was made evident by a moan and shudder.

“Yeah,” he growled approvingly.

“Come on,” he urged, pushing you back and pulling you forward.

Your hands dug into his shoulders for purchase and you began rolling your hips, shamelessly humping his thigh. His cock was trapped in his pants, poking up into the seam, and receiving no attention from your movement. Still, Hawks moaned as if that wasn’t the case, staring at you with a hungry passion.

Pale lashes fluttered over gold eyes.

“That desperate, hm?” he taunted, words heavy. “Slutty thing.”

Hawks tightened his hold and forced you still. You whined and he hushed you with a snarl, “be good.”

The world rotated as Hawks pushed you back onto the bed. You flopped over uselessly, arms flailed above your head and legs trapped on either side of his waist. Your legs trembled on either side of his waist, giving away how nervous you were. Whilst not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, this was new between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but be nervous for what was to come.

Hawks’ wings spread predatorily above you, a strong arm stretched above your head to pin your wrists to the sheets. You writhed beneath him, shuddering when his stare darkened.

Something smooth and firm fell into your palm. Hawks released your wrists and slid his hand up to grab it. You realized what it was as the material looped around the skin that his hand had previously been holding. You wiggled your fingers as he bound your wrists together, careful to ensure the knotting wouldn’t hurt you or leave a mark. He shifted up and looped the rope through a gap in the bed frame.

A few odd seconds later, he was done with your wrists and maneuvered down. Large hands slid beneath your calves and hiked your legs up. You didn’t bother looking down, recognizing the sensation of more ropes. He looped them carefully, but tightly, pinning your calves to your thighs and forcing your legs upright and spread, sex exposed. You tried not to dwell on the thought of how you must have looked.

As soon as he was finished, Hawks sat upright. His hands smoothed down your legs as he admired his handywork.

“Test the restraints, babybird,” he advised softly. “You know that.”

With a deep breath, you started pulling your arms, looking quite pathetic in a feeble attempt to escape the bindings. Your feet wiggled helplessly, legs trembling as you couldn’t budge in the bindings.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, concern briefly flashing in his eyes.

“No, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

“Be honest.”

There was a heavy, emotional honesty in his tone, as if everything weighed on this moment. He wanted you in feral, dehumanizing ways; but, nothing was worth hurting you in ways he couldn’t take back. He wanted a surrender of trust and lust, not of fear and guilt. You wiggled around some more, testing the bindings. Hawks tried to ignore how much that sight stirred his arousal.

“Feels good,” you answered eventually, head falling limp onto the sheets.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, letting your emotions speak loudly on your face. Hawks stared back at you as if hypnotized, his gold eyes bright in the dimly lit room, and soaked up every little bit of trust you conveyed.

For a moment, the music coming from the stereo played loudly in your ears, right alongside your thundering heart. But, as you laid there, helpless to escape and beneath crimson feathers, you started to drift away, back into that invisible plain in your mind, where nothing existed outside of this moment.

A sound, a lid popping open, snapped you out of that moment.

A wet digit nudged at your entrance and carefully slid inside.

“Oh,” Hawks huffed in surprise.

He shifted his wrist to glide out and back in and immediately started drilling the digit at a steady pace, pressing against your walls with intent. You were fairly loose already, slippery with your own juices. The heat of your insides was startling contrast to the cold in the room.

“Do you like being tied up for me that much?” he asked, a sort of smug tone to his words.

He stared down at your face, watching pleasure and shame morph into one beautiful, haunting expression.

“Such a greedy pussy,” he continued, as if talking to himself. “Ready to be stuffed full of cock.”

He removed his finger and slapped his open palm against your sex, letting out a hoarse, brief laugh at the gushing, wet sound it made. You squeaked, mostly out of embarrassment, and slightly out of startle at the sudden, harsh touch.

This time, two fingers slid in, the angle different as he turned his hand to press his thumb on your pearl. You whimpered, shuddering as he curled his fingers and circled the pad of his thumb over that swollen bud. As pleasure blossomed across your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss the way he looked at you.

But, then, his hand slid back, fingers carefully dragging out of you. The lube cap popped open again, followed by a squelching sound. You could recognize the shift of him as he rested on his knees between your spread legs. Quickly, it became obviously what the noise was.

Your eyes fluttered open and, sure enough, you could see his shoulder moving subtly. However, you couldn’t lean up to get a better look, and fidgeted against the restraints as a result.

Of course, Hawks caught on.

“You want this?” he asked, some strain in his teasing tone.

The effort was supposed to just be slicking his cock with lube; but, when you mewled and pulled against the rope tying your arms to the bed frame, Hawks kept going, a little lost in the faint relief combined with the gorgeous of you bound and ready to be fucked.

“Yes,” you answered in a breathless voice.

“Yeah?” he agreed through a moan. “What do you say when I give it to you?”

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, fidgeting more.

“That’s right. But, first, you gotta ask nicely – how I like it. Come on,” he insisted, raspy and low.

“Please, sir,” you immediately huffed out..

“You can do better than that,” he answered coldly.

“Please-” you blurted, some desperation shining through. “Please, sir. I want it.”

“Then, beg all pretty for me – beg me to fuck you,” Hawks commanded, his shoulder still moving, and the slick sounds growing louder as he increased the pressure.

His eyes were ravishing, staring with a wild hunger that you had witnessed many times before, but never tired of. You pulled against the restraints again, legs twitching as you failed to reach for him. It intensified, until you were practically thrashing around, torso stretched and chest angled upright.

“Please – your cock – I want it – inside – oh fuck me, please, Hawks, please,” you whined, vaguely aware of how you sounded, desperate and pathetic.

You failed to address him properly, but his eyes suggested he didn’t care at that moment.

Hawks snarled and the movement of his arm stopped. His head tilted back and you watched his wings jerk away and lock up before slowly curling back in to rest naturally behind him. You could see the pinched expression of pain on his face, and it remained briefly when he straightened out his neck.

Quickly, it morphed into anger.

You gawked at him, feeling a flush of nauseating arousal at the realization of what you had just done to him. Hawks flicked his tongue over his teeth before baring them, panting harshly.

He let go of his cock and shifted forward, nearly colliding with your forehead with how suddenly he leaned over you. You gasped weakly at his sudden closeness.

The music was still playing, a soft melody that contrasted the intensity of the moment.

His hands, one wet and slippery with lube, grabbed at your waist, and held you still as he slid in closer. His cock, warm and hot, dragged along your folds, the tip poking at your pearl as his shaft glided along the wetness slicking your entrance. You twitched and gasped, trying to wiggle into the right position that would glide him right in. Only, tied up like this, you couldn’t accomplish that at all, and was left to flail worthlessly.

For a moment, you laid together, panting in the same air, sex touching, but not quite one yet. You had half the mind to question him, or maybe start begging again; however, afraid he would make you wait longer, you kept your mouth shut. It became evident that he was waiting for his near-orgasm to wane, waiting for the intensity to waver.

After some time, his breathing evened out; but, the redness on his face remained ever vibrant. It was a painful arousing sight.

“Listen,” Hawks murmured, pausing to swallow loudly.

Your eyes were glossy, not quite focused even though you were looking up at him.

“Listen to me, you slut,” he added on harshly.

That snarl caught your attention, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your thoughts enough to dwell on whatever it was he was going to say.

“I know that I say you gotta take it and all that; but, babybird, you gotta know how mean it. This – when we have sex - if it doesn’t feel good, you color. Understand? I don’t want it if you don’t love every single second of it,” he whispered, raspy, but well-tempered and controlled.

This was important, you knew that, of course; but, his tone made it all the more severe.

“Always be honest with me. When you’re with me, I own everything you feel-”

As if to make his point clear, Hawks swiveled his hips, dragging his cock along your folds. Your next exhale was uneven, shuddering out of you. The staggering breath had your chest shuddering; but, you kept your eyes firmly on his.

“-and you will only feel the kind of pain I want you to. But, pleasure, babybird, as much as you want. I can’t guarantee that if you aren’t honest with me about your body.”

His wings were trembling where they hovered above you and the look in his eyes was desperate, sincere. You were silent, waiting with bated breath, incase he wasn’t finished.

“Say you understand,” he huffed out harshly.

“I understand,” you replied, breathless, but confident.

His resolve cracked, and you were ready to scream in absolute euphoria.

Finally, you felt the poke of his cock at your entrance. Hawks pushed forward and slid into you fully, right to the base, barely giving you a second to adjust. You cried out at the intrusion, more so out of surprise than pain. There was an ache, as to be expected. But, there was an immense feeling of relief.

He felt bigger than you remembered, and it left you full and dizzy. But, what was more overwhelming, was the feeling of his torso flush against yours, the settle of his hips deep within the space between your thighs. He arched over you, letting skin touch wherever it reached.

Hawks, somehow, managed to maintain his poker face, looking almost unbothered by his sudden entrance into your body. His brow shifted slightly when he rocked his hips back. The slightest bit of pleasure flickered in his eyes when he glided back in. You tried not to look away, not wanting to miss it, but yourself struggling to do so when someone soft wiggled between.

One of his feathers.

-small, but strong, and it settled expertly over your clit. It pushed upward, nudging your bud in a familiar gesture. You could feel your legs tremble against the rope. Hawks immediately set a rhythm, pushing in and out of you at a steady pace while the feather twitched against your bead.

“Oh god-” you sobbed, head falling back into the sheets.

At some point, he let go of your waist and dug his forearms in the sheets, somewhere by your shoulders so that his biceps could pin you in and keep you still. His hands grabbed harshly at the bedding, protruding his knuckles and veins.

He drilled his hips, snapping in and out of you with bone-rattling force. You struggled to keep your eyes open, shifting between his twitching wings and striking, gold eyes. His brow was lowered in a determined scowl and hoarse breaths huffed out of his parted lips between each thrust of his hips.

His pace was bordering too much. However, the movement of his feather delivered enough friction to distract from the harsh nudge of his cock impossibly deep inside you.

He faltered at some point, shifting his hips to change the angle. That next thrust was unbelievably better. Your body jerked away from him, an uncontrolled response, and you released an unholy moan. He rolled his hips, reaching that wonderful place inside you. Pleasure washed over you in heavy waves.

“Fuck,” he suddenly snarled. “You look so good crying on my cock.”

Crying. Were you?

Everything felt too good to focus much on the state of your body. Oh, but Hawks could see it all, could feel it all: from the debauched look on your face to the way your thighs shook around him. Your hands were fumbling above your head, unconsciously gripping at the sheets or pulling against the rope.

Your eyes were a little wet, not because it hurt. It was a little overwhelming: he was deep, carving out a place for his cock. It got better and better with every thrust. You couldn’t move your body much at all, helpless but to lay there and take it. An illusion, yes. But, you basked in it, trusting him enough to allow yourself to be taken like this.

“Do you like being pumped like a cock sleeve?” Hawks questioned harshly, grunting through his teeth. “Hmm? My little slut finally got the cock she wanted so bad. Does it feel good being my personal whore?”

You didn’t respond, too distracted by the pleasure to care enough to answer him.

But, then, Hawks reeled his hand back and slapped an open palm against your ass. He wasn’t gentle, either, and you screamed at the contact.

“Fucking answer me,” he snarled, not relenting for a single second on the rapid movement of his hips.

“YES,” you cried out. “S-sir,” you corrected yourself immediately after, a little bit softer.

The words were garbled as they came out of you, wet and distant. It made you feel pathetic.

Hawks seem to agree, for he laughed darkly. Between his thrusts, the laughter sounded winded, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at his obvious enjoyment of your body.

He leaned in close, and huffed hot breath against your temple, right above your ear.

“Which part, huh? Proper answer or I stop,” he threatened.

“A-all of it,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Tell me,” he demanded through a harsh snarl.

“L-like being your-” you cut off briefly, trying to catch your breath. His hips didn’t relent for a single second. “Pers-s-sonal whore,” you finally huffed out.

That was awfully true, wasn’t it? These scenes fulfilled your wildest dreams; but, there was something immensely satisfying about belonging to Hawks. He had made it clear that you would be exclusive during the extent of… whatever this was. It meant more than he knew, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“You’ve begged for this cock for months. What do you say?” he grunted.

“Th-aahh-nk you,” you replied weakly, breaking off into a moan halfway through.

“You’re welcome, babybird. Take it all now,” he cooed.

It was a sweet command, clearly taunting at the obvious fact that you had no choice, shuddering against restraints and moaning at the constant pummeling of his hips. His feather was vibrating against you, undulating as violently as his cock drilled in and out of you. Everything felt like a constant jolt of pleasure. Vaguely, you could feel the air stirring as his wings beat above you, shifting his weight harder into you.

He exhaled heavily and his words melted into you. “Such a good toy for me, aren’t you – taking my cock so, so good – fucking perf – ahh - feels so good inside you – yeah, you’re gonna take my come, too, aren’t you?”

Against your will, you moaned and Hawks shuddered with an amused chuckle.

“You want it? Ask for it, nicely,” he uttered darkly, lips moving against your skin as he spoke. “Tell me where you want my come.”

“P-lease, inside,” you huffed out weakly.

“I am inside you, baby,” Hawks answered, and you feel the smirk against your skin, in his tone. “Come on, now, what do you want me to do?”

“H-Hawks,” you whimpered, head muddled by pleasure and shame.

“Be a good girl for me,” he whispered, a tantalizing combination of sweetly persuasive and darkly commanding. “Good girls get what they want, when they ask nicely.”

You wanted to be good, of course; but, that wasn’t the entire motivation. It made no logical sense. Then again, neither did anything else that you enjoyed together. You didn’t need reason. You just knew that you wanted him to-

“P-please, come ins-s-side me,” you whispered the words out, struggling from the intense movement of his hips and mind numbing pleasure.

“Sir, please,” you added on hastily, before he could think to correct you.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll come inside you, my good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back and an inhuman cry spewed from your lips. Hawks could feel you tightening and knew before you did what was happening.

“Oh shit,” he grunted, having to slump forward to keep his momentum going, rocking his hips against yours with intent.

You were orgasming before you were even aware that it was approaching, suddenly struck with the force of it. It came on so suddenly, for a brief moment, you felt everything slip away. The world beyond this room was gone, and all you could think about was the pleasure, the weight and heat of master above you, his cock slipping wetly in and out of you.

“Yeah. That’s it. Give it to me,” he praised, voice hoarse.

His pleasured moans drew out loudly where he panted harshly above you. Hawks leaned in close, and you could feel the thundering of his heart where his chest pressed against yours. He buried his face in your neck and released a feral moan. You shuddered, thinking for a moment that you might come again. You didn’t, but it was pretty damn close, especially when you felt the snap of his teeth against your skin in a futile effort to silence his wild moans.

Hawks slammed his hips through his entire orgasm. The wet slap of skin echoed loudly in your ears as you sobered up from your own orgasm. His wings tore through the air so violently that they knocked the desk side lamp clean off the table.

The base shattered, but the bulb remained intact. Now, with the light shining from the floor, the room was darker. Shadows cast over Hawks’ form. His wings, however, were at just the right angle to catch the light. You watched the plumes twitch and shudder through his orgasm.

You recognized the heat of his seed first. It was startling, and you briefly feared it would burn you, as absurd as that was. He kept moving, and his spent slicked his cock, and you could feel it gushing wetly out of you.

A shuddering breath huffed out of Hawks, and his hips finally slowed. He stopped his thrusting and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. Your eyes shifted to follow his gaze as Hawks leaned up to look at you properly. His wings shifted, curling in naturally against his back.

He didn’t look real, like something out of a dizzy daydream, and you were briefly afraid to blink, less he disappear.

Hawks leaned up, chest heaving as he had yet to calm his heart, and placed his hands delicately over your rope-clad thighs for balance. He was still hard inside you, and he remained there as he leaned back just enough to look down, tilting his head almost innocently.

An impressed sound whooshed out of him. You were a bit envious that you couldn’t see it: the sight of his cock, halfway inside you, soaked in a combination of your fluids. Some of it was dribbling down the edges of your sex, where your nether lips were still split on his cock.

He remained inside you as his hands started working at the bindings. He wasn’t very delicate about it, and you doubted the scene was over; so, you remained perfectly still, breathing still quite heavy. Hawks undid the knot that connected you to the bedframe, but the large bundle around your wrists remained.

Hawks leaned over you, guiding your arms over his head and onto his shoulders. You released a startled gasp when he curled his arms against your back and hoisted you into the air.

“Hold me with your legs,” he instructed, grunting in your ear.

You tried, but your muscles were weak, and you barely managed to get your heels to plant on his lower back. He could tell, clearly, for he laughed softly as he carried you to the bathroom. The radio switched off with a loud click.

Hawks headed for the bathroom. It took you a moment to adjust to the brightness, as it was blinding compared to the dim lighting in his bedroom.

The weight of him inside you made it evident that he wasn’t done that. That was made all clearer when he set you down on the wide counter top, right by the sink, and leaned you back carefully. Your arms pulled away from his shoulders and rested limply over your chest, still tied together at the wrists.

He lifted one of your legs, slowly to ensure he didn’t hurt a strained muscle, and pushed your knee into your chest.

You turned your head and realized exactly what his placement had accomplished. The mirror on the sidewall, next to the farther sink, was giving you the perfect view of your sexes. You could see his cock buried inside you, a glob of his spent oozing out and dripping onto the counter.

Hawks laughed once, amused, as he curled his hand under your head.

You were confused for a moment as to what that was for, until he started moving. Your head jerked back and, instead of clonking against the stone, you were protected by his hand. His other hand was curled against the underside of your thigh, partially for purchase, and to keep your leg up.

“Don’t look away,” he instructed. “Watch me fuck you.”

You obeyed, staring at the sight of his member effortlessly gliding in and out of your sex. With a front row seat, you almost couldn’t believe that you could fit him. Your nether lips were spread wide, pearl exposed. Everything was glistening with wetness, and the glide of his shaft was on full display, slipping in and out of your hole.

Hawks’ couldn’t seem to make up his mind, whether or not to watch the erotic sight below or the aroused, shameful look on your face. He pulled you a little away, until you were hanging off the counter top, and snapped his hips aggressively.

You whined, mostly from how sensitive you were.

“One more time,” he cooed, like a sweet promise.

Instead of his feather, he let go of your thigh and shifted his hand down to use his thumb instead. You jerked at the sudden touch, head falling back and eyes shuttering, and released a feral cry.

“Give me more one, and you can have more of my come,” Hawks continued, his voice hoarse, but oh so soft at the same time.

A moment ago, you didn’t think you could. But, now, that feeling was bubbling up almost painfully fast.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmured between huffs of staggering breaths.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Then, you gotta come for me, first.”

Your arms trembled where they rested, bound, over your chest. You unconsciously pulled and thrashed against the bindings. You were trying, and failing, not to move too much, afraid you would hurt his hand where it held your head. Your legs twitched on either side of him, struggling to stay upright.

“Sir,” you sobbed.

“Yeah, babybird. Come on my cock again,” he praised. “Like the cute little whore that you are.”

He snapped his hips aggressively, rattling your bones.

That seemed to do it, for Hawks could feel you tightening. The pressure built up and you cried out, shaking in his grasp. It was a bit shorter, and didn’t leave you blinded like before. But, it was still so, so good.

This time, as he finished, Hawks pulled you in tight, pressing his cock as deep inside as he possibly could. He groaned loudly, jaw clenched and eyes pressed shut. You stared up at his face, mesmerized by the sight. His wings flexed again, albeit a little more controlled than a moment ago.

As he exhaled deeply, he carefully pushed your leg in towards your chest.

“Look,” he instructed.

Knowing what he meant, you turned your head and looked at the mirror, briefly taking in the debauched sight of your bound wrists and heaving chest, before looking down at your sex.

It played out like something out of a porn film. He slipped out slowly, cock shiny and wet with your arousal and his own seed. He was still hard, and an angry shade of red. His blonde pubes were completely drenched and darkened from the wetness. Just as soon as he popped free, a glob of his seed followed, oozing out.

Hawks leaned over you, smirking.

“What do you say when you get my come?” he whispered.

You tilted your head back to face him, and was so close that your lips touched his as you spoke.

“Thank you, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

Hawks undid your wrist bindings as he kissed you. You mewled into his mouth, wobbly arms finding the strength to latch onto his shoulders. He carefully pulled you off the counter and into his chest, still locked at the mouth. You sagged against him, feeling boneless and exhausted. He seemed well aware of this, for his hold on you was solid.

He detached from the kiss slowly and guided you towards the shower. He set you carefully on the bench before turning away to start the showerhead. You leaned back against the cool tile, wincing at the ache of your muscles. You blearily took in the sight of him, blonde hair a wild, sweaty mess, wings curled in tight against his back. You tried to blink that look away when he turned back to you.

For a moment, Hawks stood by the running water, letting it hit his shoulder. Droplets splattered from the contact, sparkling in the overhead light.

Once the water was warm, he gently grasped your arms and helped you to your feet. You stepped into the stream, leaning against him for balance, and sighed deliriously as water ran down your back.

“Be still, okay?” he warned.

You pressed your cheek into his chest and closed your eyes, certain of what was to follow.

Sure enough, Hawks detached a portion of the shower head and angled it between your legs. You winced, but otherwise remained still while he rinsed you off. He briefly angled the spray away and used his other hand to reach between your folds. You gasped when a finger curled inside you. He twisted that digit around carefully and you felt more of him ooze out with every passing second.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

Of course he was helping clean you up; but, at the same time, you were well aware that he was enjoying the view, and you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Hold onto me,” Hawks commanded gently.

You knew it meant it both physically and mentally. The scene was over, and his hand exploring your sex was threatening to drag you back into subspace. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, and you tightened their hold, nails gently biting at his skin.

“Good girl,” he praised, and slowly returned the shower head to your sex.

You flinched again, gasping softly.

He was done a short time after that, and popped the extension back into place.

“Thank you,” he praised, kissing at your hairline.

You almost flinched away, knowing full well how sweaty you were.

“I’m gonna wash you, okay? Keep squeezing me like that,” he instructed sweetly.

Your death grip on his shoulders was pinching at his skin. Though, Hawks didn’t mind at all. He liked that little bit of pain, a reminder that you were still quite strong. You had clung to him out of fear your weak legs would surrender and drag you to the floor. But, it was also nice to feel grounded to him.

After a lather with some body wash that smelt like honey blossoms – something that was clearly not for him - Hawks worked some shampoo through your hair, fingers careful to not accidentally tug on strands. You melted into him, thoroughly enjoying the attention. He was mostly quiet, only speaking to tell you what he was going to do before he did it.

Once the soap was all washed away, you felt sane enough to make a demand.

“Let me wash you.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested weakly.

You pushed away from him carefully, testing how you felt on your own feet. Despite feeling well enough to stand alone, Hawks’ hands didn’t leave you for a second, one resting at your hip while the other was curled behind your back.

“Mhm,” you hummed absently.

Hawks stood there, mostly compliant, while you squirted some bodywash into your palm and started working it over him. It smelt like cedar and spices, and you hoped it would linger on him. He was watching you with a fond expression, though also some amusement, merely because you looked quite cute attending to him like that.

You were also shameless, he realized, for your hands lowered to his crotch, and worked the soap over his soft cock and balls, touching with a bold exploration he didn’t dare allow during ascene. Hawks grunted at the touch, and was half tempted to stop you. But, he found the strength to allow your hands to wander, and calmed himself by delivering a soft warning bite to your ear.

You huffed out a laugh at that.

One large hand reached back and cupped your behind, as if trying to regain some semblance of control.

You laughed softly again, especially when you tilted your head back and caught the pout on his face.

His limit seemed to be his thighs, for when your hands wandered down, he finally stopped you. If not for the gentle look on his face, you would have thought you crossed a line. Maybe you did, somewhat, but it wasn’t enough to prompt him to comment. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you did something wrong.

As the suds washed away, you carefully lathered shampoo into his hair. Pride blossomed inside you when his gold eyes fluttered shut and he seemingly got lost in the moment.

“I gotta wash it out,” you warned a minute or so later.

He kept his eyes closed and hummed in response, letting you push him back under the stream.

Once it was all washed away, Hawks tilted his out away from the water and looked at you, blinking water droplets off his eyelashes. It was then that you realize how awfully tired he looked. Guilt over you like a heavy blanket. As if sensing that, Hawks leaned in and kissed at your temple, willing those feelings away.

You leaned into him and watched the water cascade over his wings. Droplets clung to the surface and glided between the plumes. The muscles on his back flexed faintly as the appendages shifted subtly, and you realized he was moving them beneath the water.

The selfish desire to touch them flashed through you: to carefully weave your hand through the long feathers on the end, to dig your fingers into the baby plumes near his back.

But, you knew better than to dare voice such a desire.

Hawks turned off the showerhead and carefully pushed you away. A few stray feathers floated in through the entryway and dropped a towel over you. Just as you began drying off, you caught the sight of him flexing his wings. He was trying to be subtle; but, inevitably, water droplets flung behind him in a manner far too dramatically for you to miss.

Against your will, you laughed a little. Hawks grabbed the towel and threw it over your head, briefly blinding you. You pulled it away, laughing, and was faced with the sight of him aggressively towel drying his hair. You followed suit, suddenly desperate to get some sleep. Even though you were hopeful, you didn’t want to assume-

“Stay?” he asked, more so a hopeful suggestion.

The look in his eyes whilst asking that question was one of many moments that made you question how he could be so cute, whilst being the same man who tied you up and fucked you into a screaming mess.

“Please,” you replied quietly.

After drying off, Hawks trotted to the closet adjoined to the bathroom. You heard him rummaging through a drawer and followed him in, the towel wrapped around your body. Hawks had carelessly discarded his, leaving you with a great view of his behind, which you of course admired until he turned around.

“I wanted to – uhm,” he mumbled, trailing off as he handed you an outfit.

As you took it, you realized it was a cross-back tank top and shorts, a deep red color. The silk material felt expensive and the stitching was almost invisible.

“-if you’re gonna spend the night after we – I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained, sounded a little guilty.

“It feels really nice,” you answered.

“…is that okay?” he added on, even as you dropped the towel and started dressing.

You realized, as you pulled the material on, that it wasn’t really erotic at all. The shorts were flowy, but comfortable, clearly intended to be worn without underwear. The top covered your breasts well enough, with a feathery bottom hem. The material was cool against your skin, breathable, and comfortable enough to sleep without bunching.

Hawks stared at you anxiously, that look of guilt not quite leaving his face.

“Super comfy. Thank you,” you answered the unspoken question, smiling at him.

Hawks turned away hastily and hoisted a pair of boxers up his legs.

Before you could walk back to the bedroom, he was pulling you up into his arms, and laughed as you squealed in surprise. It became obvious why when he carefully set you down on the bed and went to clean up the lamp he had broken. He turned on the ceiling light while his feathers scooped up the broken pieces.

You were waiting for him atop the sheets. Teasingly, he pushed you onto your back as he climbed into bed. The ceiling light switched off, casting you in darkness. A glow seeped through the window, the city lights, giving you just enough to be able to make out the faint shape of him beside you.

“You know – if you don’t like it-”

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted him softly, wiggling beneath the sheets. “Just, don’t go buying me expensive things all the time.”

Hawks huffed in response, disagreeing, and you had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the end of that.

“Was…” you asked, trailing off as Hawks settled in. He sprawled out on his front, cheek smooshed into a pillow and wings spread out above the sheets.

“…was it good for you?”

Hawks blinked at you, looking a little surprised.

“I mean – worth the wait?” you added on, clearly feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he answered, the word a heavy exhale. “-o’course.”

He reached through the small space between you and nudged your cheek with his knuckles.

“It’s gonna change things. I wasn’t ready for that,” he admitted quietly.

“Nothing has to change, Hawks,” you corrected him softly.

He pulled his hand back, looking a little disappointed at your words.

You were frowning at him, wondering what he could be worried about. His own self control? Maybe yours? That was understandable. New boundaries would have to be made. But, you weren’t exactly afraid of what those changes could be, and you had faith that you and Hawks would figure it out together.

You supposed that would be the end of it; but, then, Hawks was wiggling closer and carefully slid an arm over your waist. His other arm was dragging the pillow beneath his head. It smooshed up against yours, and you would have found that amusing if not for the serious look on his face.

“…I thought – when I heard about the train-” he uttered, words slightly muffled by the pillow.

“I’m okay,” you answered softly.

“I know,” he replied breathlessly.

The room was quiet outside of Hawks’ breathing and the gentle whirling of the ceiling fan.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered some time later, wondering if he was still awake.

He was awake, but said nothing. He wanted to bark out a cheery, ‘anytime!’, or crack a joke. However, in that moment, Hawks was struck silent, afraid of the first words that came to his mind. It was too familiar, and a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. It was just lucky that he was on the city, that he knew which train you would be taking. Even if he didn’t always make it obvious, he did pay attention to your schedule.

“I’ll always save you,” was what he wanted to say.

He didn’t.