He’s just got off of a full day of hero work, courtesy of the emergency that took place downtown, and he’s soaked in sweat and dirt. His feathers feel weighed down, fluid from them and the grime that got caught in them. He’s been mourning the shower he has to take since he caught the villain, and even now that he’s home, he’s dragging his feet.
There’s blood still under his talons, from when he’d gotten frustrated and clawed too deep underneath the villain’s skin trying to pull him away from a civilian, lack of feathers at the time making him get up more close and personal than usual. He’d tried to get rid of it on the flight over, scratching away the crusted blood, but it hadn’t done much and he just gave up halfway through. He needs a thorough soak; for hours, maybe, considering the work he’s been up to.
It’s his plan when he tries to turn off towards the bathroom, but he’s stopped midway.
The thing is - Keigo’s gross, with his clothes stuck to him in a way purely dependent on dirt rather than elastic and his feathers coated in mud, blood that makes the red seem somehow duller, but Dabi’s a fucking nightmare.
Of patchwork burnt flesh and crooked grin, sure, but Keigo’s more focused on the grease. Not in his looks, his leers, but the way he weighs his hair down on purpose with pointless products and somehow still manages to look like a street rat even with full access to Keigo’s apartment.
He’s clean, fucking has to be with his whole open-wound situation, but he’s disgusting at the core, and probably always has been, even long before he became Dabi.
So Keigo’s not surprised when Dabi pulls him aside, ignores his insistence on showering at all, and has got him settled on the sofa the next minute. Fingers tug at his pants, let them pool around his ankles ‘til they’re discarded, and Keigo fights him, sure, but only ever half-hearted. Dabi gets him out of his hero outfit easily, helps him pull off his top without fucking up his sensitive wings, and throws it aside.
Then Keigo tries, one more time, to tell him off, but then Dabi’s on his knees in front of him, half-dressed in one of Keigo’s t-shirts, and right between his spread legs and he chokes. Dabi grins at him like he knows it, rests one hot hand on his thigh and feels him up, grins wider when Keigo flexes the muscles there instinctively.
It’s slow. Dabi’s a little shit, irrationally so, and probably even more than usual since Keigo’s been working like hell lately, but when he knows he’s gonna get what he wants, he can be patient. Sweet, if you dare to say so. Keigo doesn’t.
Dabi kisses up the inner bits of his thighs and makes him forget and just for a moment, it’s good. Then he hovers over him, looking so fucking hard over his pussy, just the faintest bit wet. He looks up, meets Keigo’s flushed gaze, and doesn’t smile, just makes sure he’s watching when he leans in closer and presses a kiss against his folds.
Keigo shudders, and that must be a sign, because right after he does, Dabi slides his tongue between them and licks up his pussy slowly. Over his hole and then against his clit. He clenches down and Dabi’s tongue slips out, so he uses a hand to spread him properly this time, holds him still while he makes him more slick with the drool hanging out of his mouth.
God, he’s so fucking gross, getting hard over Keigo when he hasn’t even showered. He shouldn’t feel flattered; he’s not - Dabi’s weird fixation isn’t hot.
His eyes are closed, and secretly Keigo misses that pretty blue staring back up at him. It makes him flustered, but he likes the attention; always has. But Dabi’s too busy eating him out right now, fully focused on the way he tastes, and Keigo knows it.
Little noises come out of him and steal his breath away, making him feel lightheaded and weak. It gets worse when Dabi digs deeper, buries his face in his pussy so his nose is rubbing against a patch of blond curls.
Dabi moans against him, and Keigo knows, knows right away from the way he’s grinding against the sofa edge half-heartedly and huffing every now and then, it’s the smell of him.
Keigo feels his stomach twist as he shifts helplessly, wings fluttering behind him at the sudden sensitivity he’s feeling; so close, so close, so close . He tells himself just a little more, but with Dabi he can’t ever have enough. He’s sucking at his clit now, making him feel too much, but Keigo is rubbing against him willingly. He smears slick all across his face, on the burnt lower half of it and some on the healthier bits of his cheeks, now red and shiny, and when he finally comes Dabi’s still trying to get more.
“Please,” Keigo says, nearly whines. “Dabi, please.” He feels like crying, but then if he did, Dabi would probably lick the tears away from his cheeks, too.
He works himself away from him slowly, like weaning off a drug you can’t just go cold-turkey on, lapping at his hole and then his folds, makes sure he’s sticky with his spit before he finally pulls off, and even then, he’s still staring like he wants more.
Keigo can’t ever look at him when he’s like this for too long, feels himself squirm internally when those eyes finally look up at him in his entirety. Dabi looks content, eyes half-lidded, and Keigo knows that, too, before he’s even said it. Doesn’t want him to, but he does.
“Missed you, birdie,” he says, running a finger along his own jaw, digs his thumb into his mouth soon after like he’ll be able to taste him more somehow. “You stay away too long.”
Keigo can’t say anything; his thighs are still quivering. He looks away from that heated gaze to Dabi’s crotch, a familiar wet patch already there. It’s always enough, for him.
And it’s real - too fucking real, with how Dabi’s always staring at him. Keigo can’t pretend it’s anything else, when Dabi’s always waiting for him to come home like this; to see him, to want him so furiously.
Dabi sits up on his knees then, like he knows that Keigo’s never going to reply, so he wants to try to coax the words out of him himself. He kisses him, gentle except for the little nips he gives his lower lip, and Keigo leans into it, lets out a little chirp by accident when Dabi tells him again, like he always does, “Run away with me.”
Of course, Keigo doesn’t.