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“I just, like,” Tomura wavers, scratching at his neck and frowning. “What if I'm too heavy?”
Dabi groans.
“Creep, you weigh a total of like 72 kilograms soaking wet.”
“But what if I pull a staple or something? Like with my thighs or, or something. I don't know.” His brows knit together, completely breezing past Dabi's exaggeration. “What if it's uncomfortable for you? Or you, like… You can't breathe?”
“Tomura.” Dabi drags a hand down his face. “I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think it'd be fine.”
“You've made dumb choices before.” Tomura points out.
“ Tomura.” Dabi glowers at him. “Just sit.”
Tomura hesitates more, then mutters petulantly under his breath, beginning to undo his jeans. A red flush has long since crawled up his neck, settling on his cheeks since Dabi had first proposed the idea. His ears burn as he steps awkwardly out of his pants and shimmies down his League of Legends boxers.
Dabi shifts on the bed, laying back against the pillows.
“I still feel like you haven't thought this through.” Tomura tells him as he clambers onto the bed in nothing but his baggy black shirt and his dog-themed socks. Despite his words, he's hard as he climbs up to straddle Dabi's face, a knee planted on either side of his head.
“If anything does go wrong, it'll be worth it for this view alone.” Dabi replies, sliding his hands up along pale thighs reverently.
Tomura's makes a noise of disapproval and glares down at him, blushing all cute.
“You're an idiot.” He mumbles, settling his hands on the headboard, pinkies up.
“You gonna take a seat or do I have to do everything myself?”
Tomura grumbles but shifts his weight, lowering himself a bit. Not enough for Dabi's preferences, though.
“I said sit, not hover. ” His hands move up towards Tomura's hips and pull him down.
“Dabi-”
Whatever protest he was going to make is quickly cut off by a gasp at the first lick. Yeah. Yeah, this is good.
Dabi pulls him down more, the staples along his cheeks brushing the inside of Tomura's thighs as he drags his tongue flat over his hole again, piercing catching on his rim.
“Ah…”
“It's nice, huh, boss?” Dabi murmurs, smug. Tomura shivers above him. He licks over him again, this time dipping the tip of his tongue in. It draws a shaky exhale from Tomura that borders on a moan, and his knees slide out a little more, sinking him a little farther down.
Dabi hopes that by the end of this, he'll have fully seated himself. The idea is very appealing, and he hasn't stopped thinking about it since cracking some dumb joke about facesitting 3 and a half weeks ago.
“Y'know, it's usually polite to answer someone when they ask you a question.” Dabi teases, digging his nails into Tomura's waist.
“Shut- shut the fuck up,” Tomura replies. God, he's cute when he's flustered.
Dabi hums, slipping his hands around to squeeze his cheeks before prying them apart with his thumbs, spreading him open for better access. He leans up, closing his eyes as he laps at him.
There's a high pitched noise from above him and the creak of the wooden headboard being squeezed. Then, a hand reaches down and tangles in Dabi's dark hair, careful of his quirk.
“ Mmnngh. Please,” Tomura pleads, voice breathy and quiet. It takes him a bit to get loud; Dabi has to break down his pride first, every time. He doesn't mind, cracking his eyes open to watch him.
He tugs him lower and Tomura lets him, letting out a shaky sigh that melts into a moan when his tongue enters him.
It's easy to lose himself in it, surrounded by the smell and taste and weight of Tomura. His tongue squirms its way deeper, curling and licking at him. Little ‘ah's and ‘fuck's leave Tomura's mouth, and Dabi groans against him when his hand twists in his hair.
He presses a finger to his hole, massaging his rim. Encouraged by the keening noise it draws, he slips it in, the way slicked by his saliva, which has started running down his chin. It's entirely worth it when Tomura jerks above him with a breathy gasp, and then grinds down against his face in an attempt to get more.
He catches himself quickly, going still and lifting his hips slightly to take the weight off of Dabi, but it makes him twitch in his pants. Fuck, he needs more of that. He wants to suffocate, honestly. His finger slides deeper, crooking just so to find that sensitive spot that makes Tomura writhe, all while his tongue continues working, lapping at his walls and curling inside him.
“ Mmnn - shit, that's-” Tomura cuts himself off with a harsh exhale, head tilting back and fingers tangled securely in Dabi's hair. His other hand grips the headboard tight for purchase, knuckles white.
Dabi moans, craning his neck in an attempt to push even deeper while his eyes flutter shut, and Tomura's thighs tense, squeezing around his head, pressing against his ears.
He adds another finger, spreading them apart to feel the way Tomura shudders at the stretch, and flicks his tongue between them. He wants to reach down and squeeze himself through his pants to relieve the ache, but he can't bring himself to let go of Tomura, nails digging into his skin, hands heating up against his flesh.
“You're-” Tomura interrupts himself with a choked whine. “You're smoking again, Dabi.”
Dabi forces his eyes open halfway, noting that yeah, he is. Smoke wafts up through the air from his seams, and Tomura is looking down at him, slightly concerned. He growls against him, pulling him down more and twisting his fingers in a way that makes Tomura yelp and arch, dropping his weight instinctively, nearly smothering him.
His eyes roll and his hips buck against nothing, moan muffled by Tomura's weight. He grasps onto his hip with his free hand, squeezing tightly in an attempt to keep him pulled down against him.
“Ah- Dabi- ” There's a creak of wood above him, and then a crumbling noise. A quick glance upwards reveals the headboard is decaying, all five of Tomura's fingers gripping it for dear life. His other hand is more careful, pinky held up above the unruly black hair it's tangled in. He grinds down against his mouth and fingers, moaning openly now as Dabi's head is pressed into the pillows beneath him. “F- Fuck, gonna-”
He shoves his fingers deeper, curling them roughly, and Tomura's hips jerk, a strangled gasp leaving him as he trembles and moans through his orgasm above him.
Dabi taps his fingers against the outside of Tomura's thigh, and he lifts himself up off his face shakily, allowing him to suck in hasty gulps of air.
“The headboard-”
Dabi slips his fingers out and Tomura cuts himself off with a whimper at the feeling, shamelessly staring when he sticks his fingers into his mouth and sucks. Tomura swallows and lifts himself further up, climbing backwards until he's sitting on Dabi's thighs. Dabi drags his fingers from his mouth, exhaling a puff of smoke as Tomura unzips his pants and fishes his cock from his briefs.
He should be embarrassed, he thinks, since Tomura barely has a hand around him before he's bucking up into his fist, and it only takes one, two, three strokes before his head tips back into the pillows and he's coming with a sound that is way too close to a whine.
“Wow,” Tomura breathes.
Dabi flushes darkly while he pants, watching with lidded eyes as Tomura adjusts, moving up to straddle his waist, looking down at him with wide red eyes and pink lips parted slightly in amazement.
“Shut up.”
“I've never seen you come that quick.”
“ Shut up.”
“You really liked that, huh?” Tomura marvels. The healthy portion of Dabi's face is bright pink, although Tomura seems more awed than mocking. “I didn't think you'd enjoy it that much.”
Dabi grumbles, settling his hands on his hips and rubbing his thumbs over the crescent shaped marks left by his nails.
“Yeah, well…” He trails off, pursing his lips and looking off to the side.
“Give me 5 minutes.” Tomura says. “I wanna ride your face.”
Dabi's hands tighten.
“Fuck. Alright, sounds like a plan.”