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The long distance relationship life is absolutely torturous .
It’s bad enough that Hawks hardly ever sees Enji in the flesh, but he’s being constantly bombarded with Endeavor pictures all across social media and the news. Sure, maybe he’s set up his phone to alert him whenever a particularly good #endeavor post is trending, but still. The man is nearly fifty. He should not look as good as he does in skintight spandex.
It doesn’t help that Enji is notoriously bad at texting.
Like, really bad.
Enji claims it’s a “waste of time” and that he could just as easily say everything that needs to be said in a short phone call. Hawks maintains that Enji is just annoyed that his massive fingers can’t hit the buttons accurately enough, which leads to typos that he insists on fixing, which he more often than not messes up even further . Sometimes, it takes him a full five minutes to type out one measly sentence.
He does call Hawks every night, which is very sweet and gentlemanly and would make Hawks swoon like a Victorian maiden if he didn’t hate talking on the phone so much.
But still. It’s the thought that counts, right?
And yet here Hawks is, after a grueling day of nothing but boring meetings and with a pile of paperwork so high he can hardly see over the top of it — typing and retyping a message to Enji. He’s looking for something that conveys I want to climb you like a tree without seeming too desperate.
After five minutes, during which he feels just as bad at texting as Enji himself, he finally settles for a very nonchalant, “hey” .
Enji responds almost immediately (for him, anyway), which Hawks was not expecting.
Me [17:00]: hey
Number One DILF [17:03]: What’s wrong?
Me [17:03]: nothing. just miss you 🥺
A pause, while Enji gathers his thoughts. It’s always a hit or miss with him. Sometimes he can be alarmingly thoughtful and kind, and sometimes he’s as dry as the toast he eats for breakfast every morning.
Number One DILF [17:09]: I’m sorry. I have been very busy. I hope to be able to visit on the weekend.
Me [17:10]: i know you’re busy
Me [17:10]: i see you on the news all day
Me [17:11]: you and your sexy ass 🥵
Number One DILF [17:14]: Keep in mind that the TV adds ten pounds.
Me [17:14]: yeah, ten pounds to that bulge 😏🤤
Enji types.
Stops.
Starts again.
Stops for over a minute.
Hawks takes pity on the man, and plows boldly forward.
Me [17:17]: u know what might help?
Me [17:17]: tide me over til the weekend
Number One DILF [17:18]: I’m not sure I want to know.
Me [17:18]: a pic
Me [17:18]: of ur dick
Me [17:18]: 🍆🍆🤤🤤💦
Number One DILF [17:19]: Keigo
A thrill runs through Hawks at the name. Enji knows full well what that name does to him, even in text, and Hawks bites his lip in anticipation of Enji’s response. He sends out a feather to lock the door of his office and leans back in his desk chair, wings sprawling onto the floor.
But after a minute, the three dots disappear and Enji goes silent.
Hawks pouts.
He’s already at half mast just from the thought of seeing Enji’s glorious package, and he most definitely doesn’t want to be left high and dry. Not after two whole weeks of not seeing each other.
Me [17:23]: cmon big guy
Me [17:23]: gimme the goods💦
Me [17:23]: don’t be shy
Number One DILF [17:24]: [image attached]
Hawks nearly drops his phone in his haste to download the photo.
He can feel saliva pooling in his mouth, like he’s a rabid dog that only Enji Todoroki’s dick pic can cure.
He clicks on the photo.
Squints.
Holds the phone at arms length.
“What the fuck?” Hawks mutters to himself.
He pinches and zooms in on the blurry photo.
He can just make out that the photo was taken from above, and Hawks can only assume that the shadowy blur is Enji’s pants being held away from his waist. And the skin colored lump beneath that seems to be...Enji’s flaccid penis.
Hawks almost laughs. Almost .
But his boner is far too disappointed for brevity.
Me [17:26]: um? why arent u hard
Number One DILF [17:27]: ?
Number One DILF [17:28]: I am at the office, Hawks.
Me [17:28]: alright, old man. lemme show you how it’s done🍆
Hawks sets his phone down and cracks his knuckles. His wings spread and ruffle out behind him as he tugs his baggy pants midway down his thighs. His phone buzzes on the table, no doubt messages of protest from Enji, but Hawks only smirks and rubs his cock through the thin fabric of his briefs.
Fuck, it has been too long . His cock is already leaking just from the thought of Enji seeing his photo and getting flustered at the office. Hawks has a chart of how red Enji’s face turns when he’s uncomfortable or turned on (or, on many an occasion, both). He’s pretty sure he could get him to full “stop sign” level today.
Hawks drags up the hem of his shirt and holds it between his teeth. He leans forward to perch on the edge of his chair and holds his phone up high. From this angle, Enji will get an eyeful of Hawks' pecs, abs, and fully erect cock straining beneath his briefs.
He opens up his chat with Enji (ignoring the "Keigo, I'm at the office, please don't") and snaps the pic, immediately sending it off to Enji.
Hawks smirks when the three little dots by Enji's name falter and die out. He can just imagine the look on Enji's face. The wide, blue eyes. The way his jaw clenches when he's worked up about something.
Hawks hums in satisfaction and squeezes his throbbing cock.
Me [17:32]: im at the office too. That's what locks are for, big guy.
Number One DILF [17:32]: [image attached]
This time, Hawks really can't make it out. There's a vaguely skin colored blur and a whole lot of grey.
Me [17:33]: you really are awful at this
Me [17:33]: remind me to teach u how to use the camera next time we meet
Number One DILF [17:34]: I know
Number One DILF [17:34]: how
Me [17:36]: have i rendered you speechless with my beauty?
Number One DILF [17:37]: to use my phone. I dropped it.
Me [17:38]: aww 😞
Me [17:38]: here i was hoping for some Number One Hero Dick 🍆🍆
Me [17:38]: heres some more food for thought
Me [17:39]: [image attached]
It's his own cock in all its glory, underwear tugged down below his balls and grip tight at the base. A bead of precum glitters at the tip, which Hawks thinks is a nice coincidental artistic touch. He strokes slowly, biting his lip and waiting for Enji's message to pop up. Already, warmth is spreading through his abdomen and thighs.
God, he's so fucking desperate.
Number One DILF [17:41]: I'm in a very inconvenient location, Keigo.
Me [17:41]: 😒
Number One DILF [17:42]: We can.speak tonight.
Me [17:42]: 😒😒
Number One DILF [17:42]: When. Do you get.home?
Me [17:43]: dunno. probably 7
Number One DILF [17:44]: see you then.
Hawks groans out loud and tosses his phone onto his desk. He looks down at his boner, still pointing straight up against his stomach.
“Sorry, boy,” he sighs. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight. Do you prefer rightie or leftie?”
His phone buzzes just as he’s wrapped his fingers around his cock again and he all but dives for it. Maybe the old man has had a change of heart?
He nearly throws the phone across the room when he sees it’s not from Enji, but from Miruko.
Bunny Bitch [17:50]: im in the lobby
Bunny Bitch [17:50]: the receptionist said ur door was locked?
Bunny Bitch [17:50]: stop being gross and get down here
Me [17:51]: im coming
Bunny Bitch [17:52]: i really hope u didnt mean to send that to big daddy
Me [17:52]: 😔
Me [17:52]: i wish
—
Hawks is just under a kilometer away from his apartment when he senses someone in there.
Who the fuck is stupid enough to break into a pro hero’s apartment? With all the tabloids that follow him around every waking moment, it’s no secret where he lives. Not to mention he’s probably got the biggest balcony in all of Fukuoka.
Hawks sends out a few scouting feathers as he swoops low over the building. Whoever they are, they’re in his kitchen and they’re taking up a lot of space.
Wait.
It couldn’t be.
“See you later.”
Hawks hadn’t thought twice about it, but maybe, just maybe Enji meant it literally?
Hawks dives for his balcony.
His stomach flips and it has nothing to do with his rapid descent.
He alights on the rail in a crouch and peers into his apartment. He can hear music now, something soft and jazzy that wouldn’t sound out of place in an elevator.
Yep. That’s Enji.
Unable to suppress the grin that spreads across his face, Hawks slides open his balcony door and bursts into the living room.
“Honey, I’m home!” he calls.
“Took you long enough,” Enji’s bass tone rumbles out of the kitchen and hits Hawks right in the chest. “You said you’d be home by seven.”
Hawks tosses his coat aside and kicks off his shoes. He feels almost giddy with happiness.
Oh god.
Maybe he is a Victorian maiden.
“In my defense,” Hawks says, making his way towards the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting any actual people to be waiting for me at home.”
“Rule number one of being a pro hero,” Enji says. “Expect the unexpected.”
Hawks steps into the kitchen and all his spy training at how to keep a straight face and give nothing away flies out the window. Because Enji is here , in his apartment. He’d come as a surprise and is cooking Hawks dinner and the sight of even just the back of him in his navy turtleneck sweater and grey slacks is doing things to Hawks.
Enji turns away from the stove to face Hawks and Hawks nearly chokes on a mouthful of his own saliva.
Enji Todoroki, Japan’s number one hero, is wearing an apron decorated with a bikini-clad woman that Miruko had gotten Hawks from her vacation in the United States. The woman’s overly tan, overly large fake breasts don’t even hold a candle to Enji’s, all but bursting out from behind the cheap fabric.
“This was the only apron I could find,” Enji explains, and his tone makes it sound like Hawks is the one who should be embarrassed at his subpar apron selection.
“I — who wears aprons?!”
Enji raises an eyebrow and huffs incredulously. He turns back to the stove, poking at what smells like grilled chicken.
“This is a very expensive sweater,” he says.
Hawks hums, grins, and sidles up next to Enji, leaning against the counter.
“I can’t wait to rip it off of you,” he purrs, running a finger down Enji’s bicep.
Enji turns off the stove and finally, finally , turns to Hawks. He reaches up and cups Hawks’ cheek with a large, calloused hand. His blue eyes are narrowed but bright; a shiver runs through Hawks, all the way down his wings to the tips of his primaries.
“The apron?” Enji asks. “Or the sweater?”
“Both,” Hawks smirks. “All of it. Everything.”
He slides his hand from Enji’s bicep to his chest, up to hook around his neck. Enji hasn’t leaned down at all, and even with Hawks up on his tiptoes he’s still not nearly close enough.
“I’ve prepared dinner,” Enji says softly.
“It’ll still be here when I’m done with you.”
“Oh?”
Enji’s hands — those hands are enough to turn Hawks into putty — smooth over the base of Hawks’ wings. His fingers spread through the downy feathers and Hawks’ breath hitches in his throat. Electricity shoots through his body, tingling down to his fingertips and curling his toes.
"Enji," Hawks breathes, back arching into Enji's touch.
"I missed you too, Keigo," Enji says, voice low in Hawks' ear.
Hawks whimpers. He can't take it any more. He feels like his every last nerve endings are on fire.
And then Enji is pulling away and Hawks lets out an affronted noise that sounds far more like a disgruntled chirp than anything human.
"Relax," Enji says, reaching behind him to untie the apron. "I'm not as heartless as some might think."
Hawks grins and runs his hands over Enji's chest, pausing to squeeze lightly at his pecs.
"Nope, you're just a big softie underneath all this muscle, aren't you? Mmm, this muscle though — eep!"
Hawks is lifted off his feet as easily as if he were a doll. He knows his hollow bones help, but he's still packed with muscle and the fact that Enji could definitely pick him up with one hand if he wanted to makes Hawks all but salivate. His wings flutter and flap behind him, knocking several somethings off the kitchen counter. Nothing that sounds important.
Enji has one arm hooked under his ass and another steadying at his back. They're at eye level now. Enji's gaze is piercing right through him and Hawks can't resist anymore.
He threads his fingers through Enji's short hair and leans in to kiss him desperately. He's been starved of Enji for too long, it's been too long since he's felt the stubble scratching his face and the heat of Enji's body beneath his hands. Enji kisses him with a firm confidence, deep and thorough, and his hand on Hawks' back strokes his sensitive feathers lightly enough to send tinglings of pleasure roll through him while not over stimulating him.
Hawks locks his ankles around Enji's waist. He's vaguely aware that they're moving; he can only hope it's to the bedroom.
"I'm going to put you down, now," Enji murmurs into their kiss.
Hawks only moans in response, seeking out Enji's mouth once more like it’s the very air he needs to breathe. He can feel Enji's cock swelling beneath the sensible slacks and it's driving him crazy .
"Enji," Hawks sighs as the older man lays him down on the bed so gently it's like he's afraid Hawks will break.
He gazes up through lidded eyes as Enji pulls his (very expensive) sweater off overhead, muscles rippling with the movement.
Hawks wants to ride him off into the sunset.
He peels off his own clothes, tossing them aside carelessly. He doesn't miss Enji's pointed glare at his messiness but he couldn't care less. Not when he's faced with the sight of Enji's thick cock being released from his (probably also very expensive) underwear.
He clambers on top of Enji the second the other man is on the bed, peppering kisses down his neck and rolling his hips just right; the groan Enji releases goes straight to his cock, and it pulses precum that mixes with Enji's own.
Hawks feels drunk with desire. The air between them is heady and thick and dizzying, every spot their bodies touch is electrifying.
Hawks is littering Enji's collarbone with bites he hopes leave marks when Enji reaches down and grabs Hawks' ass and yanks him up his chest. Hawks lets out yet another undignified squawk, wings flapping to counterbalance him.
His protests die in his throat when Enji pulls him closer still, until Hawks' cock is lying on his face, smearing pre across his scruffy cheek.
"Fuck, Enji — fuck!"
Enji's mouth closes around him and it takes every ounce of self control Hawks has not to fuck his throat until he chokes.
"God," Hawks groans, clutching the headboard for stability as Enji's tongue flicks over his slit. "This is like, every teenage wet dream I've ever had."
Enji doesn't respond, but then he rarely does. And his mouth is rather preoccupied at the moment. He only hums around Hawks and slips two fingers down between the cleft of Hawks' ass. Hawks gasps and thrusts into Enji's mouth. Saliva pools and drips out of the corners of his mouth but he doesn't gag, only blinks up at Hawks with watery blue eyes.
"Fuck, En — ah! Fuck, I love you."
They don't say it often, and usually when they do, one or both of them are naked and genitalia are involved. But that's just one of many things Hawks loves about their relationship; neither of them are all that big on expressing their emotions with actual words, and it's more than enough that they express it with actions.
Like, for example, how Enji is swallowing his cock like a champ while simultaneously fingering him open.
If that's not true love, Hawks doesn't know what is.
Enji is relentless. He's got at least three fingers in him (Hawks isn't entirely sure; his brain feels fuzzy and all he really knows is he feels full), calloused and rough but oh so nice as they rub deep inside him and stoke the fire burning in his abdomen.
"I — hah! Fuck, I'm gonna — if you don't stop —"
Enji pulls off of him with a wet pop that will forever be ingrained in Hawks memory along with the look on his face; flushed bright red (just shy of stop sign status), tears beading at the corners of his eyes and a thick line of saliva connecting his swollen lips to the head of Hawks' cock.
"I'm ready," Hawks says, grinding back onto Enji's fingers.
"Lie down." His voice is rough and hoarse and fuck Hawks thought he couldn't be more turned on.
Hawks crawls off of Enji's face and settles onto his back obediently. Enji glances over at him from where he's digging around in the bedside table.
"Turn over," he all but commands.
Hawks shivers and flips onto his stomach. His wings sprawl out wide, feathers trembling in anticipation. It had taken a long time for him to be okay with baring his scarred back like this to Enji. He doesn’t do shirtless modelling gigs anymore, and for all his seemingly endless friends and acquaintances, only Miruko really knew the extent of his injuries. And even though Enji was there, Enji was the only one there as he recovered and regrew his wings, it was still months before Hawks agreed to take his shirt off around him.
But with Enji — ironically, many people might think — he feels safe.
They both have their scars. And usually the ones that hurt the most aren’t nearly as visible as the marring on his back.
Hawks’ breath hitches when he feels Enji crawl over him, feels the warmth of his body pressing up against his back. Enji strokes his wings with one hand and lines up his cock with the other, and Hawks lets out a high pitched warble when he presses in slowly. His hot palm is flat on Hawks’ back, right in between his wings, large thumb rubbing soothing circles into a knot of scar tissue he knows makes Hawks absolutely melt .
The low timbre of his voice only adds to the absolute barrage of sensations, and what he says doesn’t help matters, either.
“You’re so beautiful, Keigo.”
And just like that, the scars don’t matter.
He’s back here, with Enji, always Enji, only Enji. Thrusting so deep inside him he sees stars behind his closed lids.
More often than not, Hawks babbles. Lets forth a slew of curses and exclamations mixed with Enji's name. Today, all he can manage is a long, loud moan that shakes and jolts with every thrust.
His wings flutter, flexing and tensing in response to the waves of pleasure being pounded into him. Enji curls his hand around the base of his left wing and Hawks lets out a choked sob.
"Keigo," Enji pants, and Hawks purrs like a cat. "Give me a pillow."
Hawks barely registers the request. Pillow? What? Who? But then Enji leans over him, grips Hawks' hip tightly and tugs him up before shoving a pillow underneath him. When he pulls out and slams back in again, Hawks feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.
Enji is kneeling behind him now, both hands grabbing his ass like it’s the only thing tethering him to this world as he fucks Hawks harder than he’s ever been fucked before. He hears more than feels his wings knocking shit off the bedside table — but it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is every last inch of his body tensing, his back arching, his toes curling, his throat burning as he screams Enji’s name over and over and over . Come soaks the pillow beneath him with every twitch of his cock, the waves of pleasure seemingly endless as Enji pounds into him again and again until — the groan Enji lets out just sends more sparks rippling through Hawks’ body. Hawks feels his thick cock pulsing inside him — so fucking deep — and then he’s collapsing over Hawks, mindful enough to prop himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush him as he presses wet, panting kisses into the crook of his neck.
“Enji,” Hawks moans. He feels spongy and soft and oversensitive where Enji is draped across his wings and still seated deep inside him.
“Sorry,” Enji says immediately, pushing himself up and off of Hawks and pulling out slowly enough that Hawks barely winces. “Are you alright?”
“Hnnn,” is about all Hawks can manage.
Somehow, he finds himself on his side, wings folded behind his back to make room on the bed for Enji, who promptly drops down in the now empty space. It takes another minute of heavy panting for their breathing to even out. When it does, Hawks shifts and scooches until he’s nestled right up against Enji’s side, head propped up on Enji’s shoulder. His wings can sense Enji’s still racing heartbeat. He rests his palm flat on Enji’s chest to feel the pounding thuds for himself beneath the wiry chest hair and sweaty, sticky skin.
Enji wraps an arm around Hawks’ shoulders, careful to avoid his wings. His thumb strokes circles into Hawks’ upper arm and Hawks sighs as a stupid, giddy smile spreads across his face.
“Well that was nice,” he sighs. “But I’m still gonna teach you how to send a proper dick pic.”
Enji snorts. “The last thing I need is a picture of my privates somewhere on the internet.”
“You weren’t so quick to refuse, earlier,” Hawks points out smugly. “When you were off on the…train, I guess?”
“Plane,” Enji corrects. He kisses the top of Hawks’ head and doesn’t complain about the sweat or dirt or both.
God, Hawks loves this man.
“While we’re on the subject,” Enji says slowly, voice slightly muffled in the nest of Hawks’ hair.
“Oh?” Hawks perks up. “Want some one on one lessons? Proper Dick Angles 101?”
“What? No!”
Enji scoffs and pulls away slightly. Hawks frowns and props himself up on his elbows so he can look Enji in the eye. He’s flushed (rhubarb status) and is avoiding meeting Hawks’ gaze. But he’s still Endeavor, so he pushes on.
“I was saying ,” he says, “That, well. You know I’m selling my house.”
Hawks’ frown deepens. He tilts his head.
“Is that the subject we were on?”
“Well, planes.”
Hawks huffs in bemusement. “Right, planes, okay. I’m with you.”
“Well. I was thinking.”
He stops, jaw working. Hawks can’t remember the last time he saw Enji Todoroki this unsure of something.
“Enji,” Hawks says softly. He offers a bracing smile. “What were you thinking?”
Enji lets out a deep breath that ends with a curling plume of smoke.
“Maybe I could move. Closer.” Blue eyes lock onto his. “Move here. With you.”
Not for the first time that evening, Hawks feels breathless. His heart is pounding just as hard as Enji’s now, fluttering somewhere just beneath his Adam’s apple.
“Enji, I — you don’t have to,” he says weakly.
“I want to.” Enji looks more sure with every passing second. He brings a hand up to gently brush Hawks’ cheekbone. “I don’t like being…apart.”
“But — your agency —”
“My agency functions completely on its own. They don’t really need me more than once a week. It’s not a long flight.”
Hawks is still at a loss for words — not a situation he’s overly familiar with.
“You’re — but you’re the number one .”
It’s Enji’s turn to smirk, now, and it’s slightly at odds with the softness of his hand cupping Hawks’ face.
“I can be a hero wherever. Crime isn’t localised to Tokyo.”
A flood of emotion rises up in Hawks’ chest and prickles at the corners of his eyes. He buries his face in Enji’s chest and lets out a muffled gaahh! Enji chuckles and plants another kiss on the top of Hawks’ head.
“I take it that’s an ‘I’ll think about it’?”
“God, Enji,” Hawks groans. “If you didn’t wanna learn how to take good dick pics you could’ve just told me, you didn’t have to offer to move halfway across the country!”
“I have no doubt you’ll find something else inane to teach me,” Enji sighs. “Though, come to think of it, I did have one question.”
“Hmm?”
“I saw your phone…what on earth is a DILF?”
Hawks grins and peeks back up through his fringe.
“Well, Enji, I’m glad you asked…”