[Part of the reason Enji has such a soft spot for the son he lost so long ago is precisely because he was never afraid of or intimidated by him. Touya used to be all over his father even as a baby, and maybe it was because Enji was absent for so many hours of the day with work that they were inseparable while he was home. And to everyone's surprise at the time, it wasn't one sided. Even before the DNA results that confirmed Touya had a fire quirk like his own, he'd spend lots of time play fighting with his son. Pretending his little karate chops brought him to his knees.
Those little invasive memories have no place here. Not now. Not with what they're doing currently, but Dabi has that same disregard for his father's intimidating presence and strength. He prefers it that way. Having someone willing to talk down to him or belittle him in general isn't his cup of tea, but when people tend to walk on eggshells around him that kind of thing makes him feel like a normal man.
But he isn't a normal man, either. A normal man wouldn't take advantage of his own offspring's deep-seeded need to seek his father's attention. And that's what this was, wasn't it? Dabi wanting his attention, and he wasn't guiltless either. He wants the attention, the contact, the admiration from him. They're both sick, and clearly feed off of each other's weaknesses. At least Dabi can claim that he's not pretending to be something he isn't--Enji has no excuses for himself.
Despite the shame filling him, the sounds Dabi makes with every push of his hips eggs him on. When he glances down between them, he's greeted by Dabi's dick, noticeably harder than when he first grabbed him to pin against the wall of the shower. At least this sickness they're engaging in is mutual. He couldn't do it if it wasn't. His fingers dedicate just as much time to the areas of damaged skin as it does to the healthy sections, but he notices that he gets more of a response from the latter and focuses on that instead.
Dabi grabs at the neck of the showerhead for support, Enji presumes. He doesn't need Dabi to help support him, but he doesn't do anything to impede the younger male's movements. Enji hadn't given much thought to what he might need the leverage for until burned hands grip his shoulders and legs twine around him so that when Dabi moves against him, he can feel exactly what's being pressed up between the muscles of his abs. He swears under his breath, his eyes too fixated on his son's to respond in any meaningful way.
Even if he had something to say, the mouth pushed against his suddenly keeps him from saying it. Enji prefers it that way. Talking has never been his strong suit, anyway. His eyes close into the kiss, and he does notice how different it is. The texture from top to bottom is different, which he expected, but it's not as rough as he thought it might be--the lower half of Dabi's face. It's not at all unpleasant, and he finds himself wondering what the inside of his son's mouth might feel like.
He hates every part of himself, but he can't bring himself to stop either.]
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Date: 12/9/21 22:29 (UTC)Those little invasive memories have no place here. Not now. Not with what they're doing currently, but Dabi has that same disregard for his father's intimidating presence and strength. He prefers it that way. Having someone willing to talk down to him or belittle him in general isn't his cup of tea, but when people tend to walk on eggshells around him that kind of thing makes him feel like a normal man.
But he isn't a normal man, either. A normal man wouldn't take advantage of his own offspring's deep-seeded need to seek his father's attention. And that's what this was, wasn't it? Dabi wanting his attention, and he wasn't guiltless either. He wants the attention, the contact, the admiration from him. They're both sick, and clearly feed off of each other's weaknesses. At least Dabi can claim that he's not pretending to be something he isn't--Enji has no excuses for himself.
Despite the shame filling him, the sounds Dabi makes with every push of his hips eggs him on. When he glances down between them, he's greeted by Dabi's dick, noticeably harder than when he first grabbed him to pin against the wall of the shower. At least this sickness they're engaging in is mutual. He couldn't do it if it wasn't. His fingers dedicate just as much time to the areas of damaged skin as it does to the healthy sections, but he notices that he gets more of a response from the latter and focuses on that instead.
Dabi grabs at the neck of the showerhead for support, Enji presumes. He doesn't need Dabi to help support him, but he doesn't do anything to impede the younger male's movements. Enji hadn't given much thought to what he might need the leverage for until burned hands grip his shoulders and legs twine around him so that when Dabi moves against him, he can feel exactly what's being pressed up between the muscles of his abs. He swears under his breath, his eyes too fixated on his son's to respond in any meaningful way.
Even if he had something to say, the mouth pushed against his suddenly keeps him from saying it. Enji prefers it that way. Talking has never been his strong suit, anyway. His eyes close into the kiss, and he does notice how different it is. The texture from top to bottom is different, which he expected, but it's not as rough as he thought it might be--the lower half of Dabi's face. It's not at all unpleasant, and he finds himself wondering what the inside of his son's mouth might feel like.
He hates every part of himself, but he can't bring himself to stop either.]