Saving Face

Chapter 2

I stand up to finally join the argument, both entertained and curious to know when the two were acquainted and how I can be, too. Stool in one hand and the shoulder of Twice's shirt in the other, I make my way over.

"This is a bar, Dabi. There's a free stool everywhere. Don't start holding sentiment to a particular copy of the same barstool, I beg of you."
Kurogiri's comment being attention enough, I lift the chair above my head the rest of the distance as both men watch me. One in disdain, the other more in amusement. I release my pull on Twice to set the stool down next to Midoriya and make eye contact. His eyes, which I didn't get to see earlier on our walk to the bar together, are a jade green. It seems impossible for someone to have so damn many striking features.

"Is your green hair seriously natural?"

"So it's you who's been following me for the past hour?"

Our questions overlap entirely, and everything is quiet. I decipher his question, and I think about how I should formulate my response before a combined "Yes," comes from 3 mouths. None being mine, I opt for a change in topic...

"Oh really, so it's naturally like that? That's cool. From your mother or father's side?" A dull attempt at a segue, I cringe. In my periphery I spy both Kurogiri and Twice opening their dumb mouths again, and I can now truly gauge how fucked I am.

"Excuse us to answer for Dabi here, but we both understand him well enough to know that that's something he'd do to someone of your character while ultimately denying having any involvement," Kurogiri elaborates and Twice viciously nods along.

"My... character?"

"Mr. Midoriya, While I personally don't hold any intentions for a deeper connection with you, I believe I'm well-versed in Dabi's 'type.' You, quite frankly, tick all of his b-"

"Hey, fuck you too, man. Quit blabbing my shit to randos unless you want AFO bar in a heap of wood and flames."

Back to you, Midoriya, ignore him. Rather, are you free right now?" The man now in question looked to the wooden table below, then out to the window on his left, dreamy cream cheeks adopting a red tint as his pretty eyes suddenly found interest in the mess of palm and finger prints lining the glass.

MIDORIYA

Kurogiri hasn't cleaned those in a while, huh? How much would a job like that pay for a days work? Easily worth a few pints, I'm sure...

Two light taps on my forehead and I look back at Dabi, who's index finger still hangs in the air comically. I hadn't expected him to be so straightforward and upfront about it, though it's certainly intriguing. I turn briefly to the bar owner,

"Kurogiri, I do remember you promising me 2 glasses on the house, no?"

The man stares at me long and questioning as my gaze flickers back to Dabi whose eyes never left mine. "Your memory betrays you yet again, I see. I said 2 glasses for $20." 

Dabi quietly reminds him, "Wood and flames, 'Giri. Wood and flames."

Two pints of beer slam onto the table between us, froth overflowing with the force of their placement. Not a few moments later and a third pint is slid across the bar counter to Twice, who places a pile of notes on the counter and strides away towards a beaming blonde girl who'd just entered. They start chatting away, and my attention returns solely to Dabi. His eyes, his lips, his skin,
His hands big, meaty claws with the width of the span of my face.

The span of my neck.

His loose-fitting pants keeping the exact size of his thighs covered. They're spread out wide across his barstool, but even then, I could still straddle them comfortably.

The idea of him is making my face red; the idea of what he could do to me even more so. His flattery making me weak while his body turns me on.

He doesn't realise my change in attitude, clearly, still caught up in the fumble of his words and the nervous drum of his hands on his thighs, when they should really be on mine by now.

"You know if you wanted, I could have you bent over this couter right here." I swivel around and he responds instantly to the abrupt turn of my back to him, and I realise that he thinks I'm leaving.
I don't, though. I walk around the table's perimeter with my eyes glued to the swinging arms at my sides.

I've never done this before.

I step up onto the foot of his barstool with one foot and bring the other up and across his knees to the other side, now sitting in his lap directly on top of a now-semi-hard cock. I can't help but growl quietly at the comfortable friction between us as I lean forward, using my hands on his shoulders for balance, and breathe out,
"Well, how do you want me?"