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Saturday Morning
🕑 Added 2020-12-15 12:19:21 +0000 UTCHawks knows that Saturday mornings are meant for lazing around. He never got much of a chance to do the whole “Saturday morning pajamas and cartoons” routine as a kid, but now he’s an adult, and Saturday is his day off. Which means he fully intends to sleep in, have a lazy breakfast, and generally lie around in his pajamas until well past noon. With his fuzzy yellow chick pajamas on, his massive bed cozy and warm, and nothing to do all the livelong day, it’s become his weekly relaxation ritual.
But this Saturday morning, he wakes up to something different. Instead of sunlight filtering in through the blinds of his penthouse apartment windows, casting dapples over his face and stirring him from sleep, there’s something different tugging him away from his dreams. Something warmer and hotter, stirring between his legs until he groans and rubs them together, only to feel something preventing him from closing them. When a hot, slick sensation enters his body, he opens his eyes and dazedly casts around the room before glancing down and finding a black head of hair greeting him from between his legs. Oh, okay. As soon as he’s opened his eyes, he feels the lids weighing down heavily again, not quite ready to face the day. But the heat between his thighs is persistent, a curling tendril of arousal starting to clench low in his belly, and he sighs as he rolls onto his back and spreads his legs for his boyfriend.
This is a new Saturday ritual. He wakes up in bed with the villain he’s supposed to be manipulating buried between his thighs, tonguing open his sex and stirring him to hardness. It shouldn’t be as good as this, but really, is there anything better than just lying back and letting someone else do the work every now and then? The sunlight drips over his skin and he feels the faint glowing heat spreading through his wings, through his body, until he feels Dabi’s touch like the sunrise and breathes out in pure satisfaction. No, this isn’t their most primal or intense, but it’s still something so good he clings to it and wraps his heart around it.
It’s been a long road for both of them, and he feels like they deserve this. His hand slides down to stroke through Dabi’s hair, petting through the dry black locks and slowly scratching at his scalp, rather than tugging or demanding anything. His tongue is lazy too, slow flicks up through the folds of Hawks’ sex, gathering the wetness there before closing around his clit and sucking slow and deep. Each slide of his tongue wrings a breath out of Hawks...out of Keigo. Here, in this room, with their eyes barely open, they’re only Touya and Keigo. Everything else is so far away, it feels like all of that is the dream, and only they are real.
The world turns peach pink behind his eyelids, and he gasps as he feels Touya slide a finger into his sex, coaxing it with a slow ‘come hither’ motion that works in tandem with the steady draws of his lips around the hard nub of Hawks’ clit. He felt boneless, sinking into an ocean of his own pleasure, like one drop of water rejoining all the waves. Like one man, held in the hands of his lover, as the sun rose the way it had since before mankind existed, and would continue to for long after. He inhales, trying to force his eyes open again, and this time when he looks down along his own body he sees icy blue eyes staring up at him. He’d always thought of Dabi as a nighttime creature in the past, a man who embodied ash and shadow and the falling of dusk, but now that he sees him in the golden light of morning, his heart aches for the beauty of his lover in sunlight. In daytime, in the open, in life—all the things he so richly deserved; Hawks wants to give Touya all of it and more.
He finally tugs at Touya’s hair, just a quick pull to draw his attention up. “I wanna feel you,” he mumbles foggily, mouth slightly dry from sleep and tongue not quite ready to form words. But Touya understands what he means, moving down first to slide both of their sleeping trousers off and kick them towards the foot of the bed, then back up to spread Hawks’ legs wide. Another breath leaves him when he feels his boyfriend sink inside, large enough to make his fingers clench in the bedsheets. The weight of Touya’s body over his own is almost a comfort, though, and soon they’re face to face, his hand trailing up under his boyfriend’s shirt to caress the sleep-warmed skin of his back, fingertips dancing over the scars hidden there. Yet he feels nothing but absolute peace and lust as Touya begins to thrust into him, grinding slowly and only building when Hawks moves to hook his ankles behind the other’s hips, encouraging him to move in and out. Sometimes they stare into one another’s eyes and sometimes they hide against shoulders, Keigo’s eyes blinded slightly by the rising sun but not at all caring as he buries his face against Touya and whispers his name over and over again.
Their morning ritual goes like this; slow and fuzzy and wrapped up within one another until they can’t quite tell where one body ends and the other body begins. Keigo knows that Saturday mornings are for lazing around, and also for enjoying the one you’re with.
