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The call comes in when he’s on his third rep, mid lift in his private gym at the Endeavor Agency.
Picking up his phone, Enji stares at the caller ID for a moment, brow furrowing in confusion. Best Jeanist?
He’s two seconds too slow to answer it.
Something bursts. He feels cool air across his back and his eyes go wide as he’s hoisted up, arms pinned -- no, tied -- behind his back, legs bound together at the ankles.
It takes a moment to realize what is happening. He’s usually a lot faster than this, but then again he assumed he was secure in his private training room, in the middle of his own agency. There are at least thirty sidekicks and a handful of police officers wandering the floors of the building at any given time.
“How’s it hanging, Number One?”
In hindsight, he should have guessed Hawks would be behind this.
Hanging from the rafters of the ceiling, Enji is trussed up with his own uniform fabric. His arms are bent and tied behind his back, threads coiled around his chest above and below his pectorals.
The rest of the threads are dispersed in a way that holds him suspended easily, no one area causing discomfort as they web and weave away from his body into the rafters of the gym. With his legs bound at the ankles and just under his knees, Enji is effectively immobilized, like a fly caught in a spider’s webbing.
By the time he’s fully assessed his position and tested the tensile strength of his own uniform fabric, Hawks has moved across the room languidly to take a seat below him on the floor. The ever present cocky smirk is on his face, but his iconic wings are gone.
He frowns down at the blond. “Hawks. What the hell are you doing?”
Hawks shrugs, leans back on his elbows on the practice mat and glances up at Enji, watching every useless effort Enji makes to free himself. “Enjoying the view, of course,” he drawls, winking.
Enji glares at him and tries to break free of his restraints, to no real effect. A few of the thinner threads start to unravel, but it makes no difference. He isn’t getting out of this without assistance from the man currently lounging underneath him.
He’s going to strangle the blond when he gets free -- bad press be damned.
“Hm, that won’t do, can’t have you unraveling from there,” Hawks murmurs.
The sound of shredding and a wisp of cool air on his lower back has Enji craning his neck to look over his shoulder. His uniform is even more tattered, the entire upper torso having exploded into threads earlier, but now his stomach and lower back are exposed, the new threads used as reinforcements to tether Enji more securely to the rafters.
So much for the minuscule progress he’d made.
“Hawks,” Enji bites out in warning, flames already rippling across his face and chest, down his arms and zipping across the threads twisted around his limbs. He isn’t in the mood for the bird’s antics today.
Hawks smirks at him, nonplussed. He sucks in a breath at the sight of Enji’s flames and calls up to him in mock concern, “Fire, Endeavor? Oh, no.”
The bindings remain in place, completely immune to Enji’s flames.
“...isn’t Endeavor’s uniform fire proof?” Hawks wonders aloud, tapping a finger to his chin.
Enji growls and releases his flames, a burst of steam escaping his lips in frustration. This god damn idiot is toying with him right now. “I don’t need to free myself to light you on fire, boy,” he threatens.
“Mm, true, but then we wouldn’t get to have any fun,” Hawks purrs back, falling against the practice mat and putting an arm behind his head, the other hand resting on his lower belly. He’s got one leg kicked up and crossed over his bent knee.
“Fun.”
“Mhm. You, me, all alone in this training room,” Hawks says, eyes hooded.
“Hawks.”
Hawks huffs and throws his arms and legs out into a sprawl on the practice mat. He reminds Enji of a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Come on, Enji! I am trying to set a mood here! Why are you so hard to seduce?!”
“We’re in the middle of my agency. You know the rules.”
“Yeah, whatever, no ‘getting my rocks off’ in your office,” Hawks grouses. He pouts up at Enji and Enji rolls his eyes.
“That’s not how I phrased it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Hawks crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, right, you said ‘No, Hawks you can’t suck my dick under my desk while I meet with the Head of the HPSC’.”
Enji’s cheeks flush. “I did not phrase it that way either.”
His phone chimes from the floor where he dropped it and Hawks sits up and grabs it, sees a text from Best Jeanist.
“How did you end up with his quirk?” Enji asks, unprompted. He’s still suspended from the ceiling, but with Hawks in his current mood, he doubts the man is going to free him any time soon.
“It’s a Monday, how do you think,” Hawks waves his hand idly, clearly unconcerned. “Heard you were having a bad Monday, too. Thought I’d at least use it to our advantage and have a good time.”
How the hell this frustrating man has spun the situation around to make Enji feel like the bad guy here, he doesn’t know.
“Lock the door,” he sighs finally.
Hawks perks up from his spot below him. “Really?”
“Before I change my mind, yes.”
Leaping up with a punch to the air, Hawks practically flies to the gym door, which is impressive given his lack of wings right now, and makes an exaggerated motion ensuring it is, indeed, locked.
“Well, are you going to...how did you put it ‘get my rocks off’?” Enji asks blandly, waiting for Hawks to get back across the gym.
Hawks grins at him, far too many teeth for it to be anything but devilish. “Oh, I am going to have you fraying at the edges, big guy. Coming apart at the seams~”
“Are the puns actually part of his quirk?”
“No. Thought they might add a little spice -- too much though?”
They share a look.
“Too much,” they both say at the same time.
Enji has absolutely zero interest in finding out if Best Jeanist has ever used his quirk in such an interesting way, but he is honest enough with himself that he appreciates Hawks’ thorough exploration of Fiber Master.
Hawks tangles and weaves the threads like it’s second nature, lowering Enji just enough to be able to place both of his hands on his waist. He traces the curve of Enji’s hip with delicate fingers, brushing along the fabric of his pants enticingly.
Enji twitches in response, clenches his jaw at his body’s blatant reaction to Hawks. It’s like the man instinctively hones in on the exact touch Enji is craving. Every. Single. Time.
Humming, Hawks walks around and stands behind Enji. His hands travel along Enji’s waist, tickling across his sides and sliding over the threads holding Enji still -- too fucking still.
“Hawks,” Enji grits out in warning.
There’s a low chuckle and he feels Hawks’ breath across his lower back, followed by a wet stripe sliding up the column of his spine. It ends where the next coil of threading begins.
Hawks’ hands disappear from his waist and Enji’s eyes widen as the rest of his uniform shreds into a thousand strands. The cool air of the gym explodes across his skin, goosebumps rising in response instantly. They relocate to somewhere behind Enji. He can’t twist his head enough to see, but he thinks they are winding up and down the main cords holding him from the rafters.
“That’s better, mostly,” Hawks says quietly to himself. “Let’s see…”
Enji feels fabric slithering around the creases of his body then: around the V of his groin, the dip in the back of his knees, at his inner elbow, around his armpits. The bindings shift and slide, releasing his arms and legs and shifting Enji into Hawks’ desired position.
He huffs as his elbows are bound together behind his back, his chest and hips jutting forward, legs trussed up and bent at the knees. He thinks his ankles might be tied to his wrists at this point. “Hawks, seriously, what --”
“Can’t rush perfection, Enji~,” Hawks reprimands and Enji jolts as he’s lowered swiftly from the ceiling. He’s much closer to Hawks now, if he wanted, he could crane his neck and kiss the man.
If he wanted. He’s a little tired of being moved around like a doll at this point.
“If you don’t hurry up, you’ll miss your window of opportunity, Mr. Perfectionist,” Enji bites out with an unimpressed glare.
“Tch, and they say I’m impatient,” Hawks replies. He steps back and takes one last look at Enji and nods his head. “Perfect,” he whispers and then leans forward and finally, finally, finally kisses Enji.
It’s warm and too soft. Enji doesn’t want soft right now. He wants more -- something, anything.
He gets his wish as soon as Hawks steps away. There’s a dangerous glint in the blond’s gold eyes and Enji’s eyes widen in surprise as threads unexpectedly wrap around the base of his cock.
Hawks smirks at him and then winks before he drops to his knees on the training mat and sucks Enji’s half-hard cock right into his mouth.
Enji groans, head falling forward in instant pleasure. They’ve been together for three months now and Enji thinks he will probably never get over how quickly he falls apart under Hawks’ tongue.
It swipes up the underside of his shaft and curls around the tip, teasing the slit. The threads at the base of Enji’s cock tighten slightly as he hardens under the attention. Hawks suckles at the tip, flattens his tongue against the glans briefly and then stares up at Enji as he hollows his cheeks and swallows him down effortlessly.
“F-fuck,” Enji clenches his teeth at the sensation, can feel Hawks dragging his tongue across his sensitive flesh with every lick and stroke. He watches with heavy breaths, chest heaving against the restraints, as Hawks’ lips grow red and spit-soaked, stretching around the girth of Enji’s cock.
He can feel the heat of his orgasm coiling in his gut, can feel himself growing harder; his body starts to tremble within its bonds, the threads shake and twist, but don’t give enough.
“H-hawks, Hawks --,” he cries out in warning.
Hawks pauses mid-swallow, pulling off of Enji with a wet pop and raising an eyebrow. “Already, big guy?” He glances at Enji’s cock and rubs his cheek along it, nuzzling into the short red hairs at the base. “I bet I can drag it out,” he says with a wicked grin.
Enji doesn’t get the chance to question as the threads at the base of his cock twist and tighten; more threads join to wrap around his balls. He groans as he feels his orgasm slipping away, just there, but not quite. “Hawks,” he grits.
“Mm, you know the magic word if you want me to stop, Enji,” Hawks tosses back, all nonchalance as he eyes Enji’s dick again.
Fuck. Enji does know the word and he doesn’t want to stop.
Hawks leans forward and kisses the tip of Enji’s cock and smiles when it twitches in response. “Just say the word and we stop, okay?”
Enji nods, but Hawks doesn’t move. He frowns down at the blond and then huffs, “Yes. I’ll use the safe word, please Hawks, finish what you started already.”
“We really do need to work on your patience, big guy,” Hawks tsks, but he returns his attention to the task, literally, at hand. He wraps a loose hand around the base of Enji’s cock and gives it a gentle, almost experimental twist.
Enji breathes heavily while Hawks works his hand up and down the shaft, spreading the saliva and pre-cum around with each stroke. He almost jumps when Hawks’ other hand teases at his balls. Hawks pulls his hand back, retreating immediately when he feels Enji tense too much, too soon.
A bead of sweat trickles down Enji’s temple and neck, slides down his chest. He pants and blows off some steam as his core temperature rises. The attention Hawks is paying him is a lot, but it is just on the edge of not enough.
His abs clench; his thighs tremble. Hawks pulls him back into his mouth and sucks at his tip again. Enji’s orgasm swirls deep in his gut, the intensity rising and rushing forth. He needs to cum. He needs to fucking cum.
Hawks backs off again and Enji keens, head falling backwards as steam bursts from between his clenched teeth.
“Almost,” Hawks murmurs. He blows a cool breath across Enji’s erect cock, chuckles as Enji shudders in response.
Panting, Enji feels himself on the verge of begging Hawks. He isn’t sure it would work right now though -- the blond seems to be enjoying himself. He’s smiling, has spit and pre-cum across his flushed cheek; his lips are puffy and red, swollen from their abuse. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his pants and Enji knows he’s been palming his own cock in between stroking Enji.
Just as Enji starts to open his mouth, to plead for relief, Hawks shifts forward and deepthroats him.
The threads around his cock and balls disappear at the same instant and Enji is coming in a blinding orgasm. It tears through him in an explosion of black and white against the back of his eyelids. His entire body tenses and shakes out of it in rapid bursts of tremor after tremor.
When he’s finally able to shake the spots from his vision, he sees Hawks below him, licking his lips, thumbing a drop of cum from the corner of his mouth.
“Told you,” Hawks purrs up at him, voice hoarse.
The threads holding Enji suspended slowly loosen as he is lowered to the ground. He falls face first, boneless, into Hawks’ waiting arms, nose pressed into Hawks’ neck. Hawks laughs, low and sweet, lazily stroking through Enji’s hair. “You okay, big guy?”
“‘M fine, you?”
Hawks laughs again, loose and happy. “Oh, I’m more than good,” he says and Enji finally gets the strength back in his body to push himself up enough to look down at Hawks’ lap.
“Did you --”
“Fuck yes, I did,” Hawks cuts him off, completely brazen. “Hn, should I thank the villain that quirk swapped me and Jeanist? I feel like I should...do they allow fruit baskets in prison?”
Shaking his head, Enji tugs Hawks close, wraps his arms around his idiot bird and ignores his ridiculous question. “How long will this quirk swap last?”
Pausing in his ‘thank you present’ ramble, Hawks tilts his head to the side. “24 hours, why?”
Enji gets his feet under him properly and stands on slightly wobbly legs, pulling Hawks up with him. “My sidekicks keep telling me to use some vacation time --”
Hawks gapes at him and then vibrates with excitement. “I am picking up what you're putting down, big guy. Yes. Vacation. You, me, all day.”
Walking over to his locker, Enji pulls out a towel and wipes himself down, then tosses it to Hawks. “Get cleaned up, we can’t go strolling through the Agency like we just --”
“Had mind-blowing orgasms using Jeanist’s quirk?”
Enji flushes, can feel the steam escaping his lips as he glares at Hawks. “Yes. That.”
“Eh, fine,” Hawks concedes. “If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them I was weaving an intricate tale about my latest villain take down and you were hanging on my every word.”