[ it's not a race, huh. what an easy remark to say when you had your share of different sexual experiences along the years with multiple partners. unlike itadori. he couldn't believe what he was missing out on, what he tried to keep himself from doing for a while, and it's certainly no exaggeration when people describe how good it feels to be intimate with someone. dabi is— on another level, though. that man was so ready to handle anything coming his way, and it might be the sexiest perk about him. every single time itadori had an inkling of doubt that he might be crossing a line, dabi encourages him to fucking go for it, either by his words or actions. it's okay to mess up, it's okay to be hasty, it's okay to want to try various things in a disorganized order. it's okay if it hurts like hell.
his passivity is addicting. it's hitting all the right spots, from stroking his ego to sedating his anxieties in one bundle. it's all good, isn't it? they're fine. it's fine. itadori is allowed to try and make mistakes. how else is he supposed to learn?
he flexed his jaw, breaking away from further mutilating the scarred flesh under his teeth, and snapped his hips forward again, more roughly this time. his nails gouge deeper into the skin around dabi's hips, pinning him in place while he worked himself in to the hilt. now— itadori is in total bliss, pure ecstasy; the way those muscles squeezed on his throbbing cock, ruthless, triggering a hot rush of blood down his spine, awakening sensations he never thought he had— dizzy from the brilliance of it all. it's intoxicating; like a beautiful drug. fuck, it's too perfect.
another heavy moan slipped out of his parted lips, his eyes quickly shuttering. he then smeared a few sloppy kisses along dabi's cheek, tried to catch his mouth in between hard breaths. it's way too hot for comfort, from the heat of his own arousal, his short bangs clinging to his sweat-tacky forehead. starving for more out of that man, loving every second of this. ]
Don't let go.
[ he refers to the way dabi's legs curled around him, tilting their hips in a way that made it easier to move inside of him. but, fuck, itadori had another problem. it felt good. no, it felt too good! the type that promised the sorcerer an embarrassing level of poor stamina that will end with dabi mocking him for days. he needs to force himself not to get too riled up, otherwise this will end way too soon— calm down, calm down, calm down!
... yeah, not happening.
when dabi's eagerness reassured him that the other man would take it, no matter how badly it might ache, he slipped one hand between their squirming bodies and held into the villain's cock; trying (failing the first few times) to match the pace of his thrusts while stroking him, reaching that sweet flow. short and shallow at first, and then as his own pre helped to slick the way, the breath-hitching tightness of dabi is unbelievably maddening; the motions became deeper, full, and— brutal. they are truly testing the durability of the bed under their weights, the wooden headboard slammed against the wall as he fucked him. their neighbors might want to switch rooms at this point.
drunk by lust, itadori couldn't keep his eyes open at this point, head dropped low, pressing their foreheads together. he feeds off the way dabi touched him, the raspy tone of his voice, the warmth of his body against his own, how he felt, their closeness— if he's not careful, this whole experience might mature into something else. something more personal, and ... risky. despite all dabi's promises of persuading his goals, devoted to go after his family while being led by an untamed hatred. all those warning signs that begged him not to see this moment of weakness anything more than it is. it's simple: they are using each other. that's all. itadori didn't even notice in the blur of everything that felt so intense ... those black, tattoo-like marks reappeared all over his flustered skin. symmetrical lines that spiral and parallel over his face, shoulders, chest and down to his wrists.
it's still itadori. it's still his voice. but, he's slipping— ]
no subject
his passivity is addicting. it's hitting all the right spots, from stroking his ego to sedating his anxieties in one bundle. it's all good, isn't it? they're fine. it's fine. itadori is allowed to try and make mistakes. how else is he supposed to learn?
he flexed his jaw, breaking away from further mutilating the scarred flesh under his teeth, and snapped his hips forward again, more roughly this time. his nails gouge deeper into the skin around dabi's hips, pinning him in place while he worked himself in to the hilt. now— itadori is in total bliss, pure ecstasy; the way those muscles squeezed on his throbbing cock, ruthless, triggering a hot rush of blood down his spine, awakening sensations he never thought he had— dizzy from the brilliance of it all. it's intoxicating; like a beautiful drug. fuck, it's too perfect.
another heavy moan slipped out of his parted lips, his eyes quickly shuttering. he then smeared a few sloppy kisses along dabi's cheek, tried to catch his mouth in between hard breaths. it's way too hot for comfort, from the heat of his own arousal, his short bangs clinging to his sweat-tacky forehead. starving for more out of that man, loving every second of this. ]
Don't let go.
[ he refers to the way dabi's legs curled around him, tilting their hips in a way that made it easier to move inside of him. but, fuck, itadori had another problem. it felt good. no, it felt too good! the type that promised the sorcerer an embarrassing level of poor stamina that will end with dabi mocking him for days. he needs to force himself not to get too riled up, otherwise this will end way too soon— calm down, calm down, calm down!
... yeah, not happening.
when dabi's eagerness reassured him that the other man would take it, no matter how badly it might ache, he slipped one hand between their squirming bodies and held into the villain's cock; trying (failing the first few times) to match the pace of his thrusts while stroking him, reaching that sweet flow. short and shallow at first, and then as his own pre helped to slick the way, the breath-hitching tightness of dabi is unbelievably maddening; the motions became deeper, full, and— brutal. they are truly testing the durability of the bed under their weights, the wooden headboard slammed against the wall as he fucked him. their neighbors might want to switch rooms at this point.
drunk by lust, itadori couldn't keep his eyes open at this point, head dropped low, pressing their foreheads together. he feeds off the way dabi touched him, the raspy tone of his voice, the warmth of his body against his own, how he felt, their closeness— if he's not careful, this whole experience might mature into something else. something more personal, and ... risky. despite all dabi's promises of persuading his goals, devoted to go after his family while being led by an untamed hatred. all those warning signs that begged him not to see this moment of weakness anything more than it is. it's simple: they are using each other. that's all. itadori didn't even notice in the blur of everything that felt so intense ... those black, tattoo-like marks reappeared all over his flustered skin. symmetrical lines that spiral and parallel over his face, shoulders, chest and down to his wrists.
it's still itadori. it's still his voice. but, he's slipping— ]