Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Don't Get Sentimental About It

You wake, the sunlight beaming through the cracks in your blinds and tinting the whole room yellow.
Through sleepy eyes, you take in the view of your arm outstretched, hanging off the side of your bed.
Unsurprisingly, you can see the bruising left behind from Dabi's tight grip on your wrists last night.
Your whole body felt bruised if you were being honest. An unusually comforting and welcome dull ache nestled all over your body, one that reminded you of the events from last night, and that everything that happened was real, and not some kind of dream.
You shift slightly with a small groan at the movement, angling your head to make sure that Dabi was still asleep next to you and that the warmth you could feel against your back wasn't just residual heat from last night.
You smile softly when you see him.
His head is turned from you, his mass of black hair hiding his face, one of his arms slung over his face for extra measure, too. Your eyes shift to his bare chest, which is raising and falling in a pace that tells you he's still out for the count.

Your eyes flicker over the bruising on the bare skin of his chest, the teeth marks that had remained as red marks against the pale expanse of his lower chest pretty satisfying to remember. At least you weren't the only one marked this time.
You want to turn over and cuddle into him, but decide against it. He didn't seem to sleep very well from what you'd seen so far, so seeing him so firmly asleep made you want to keep it that way.
You could probably go back to sleep, too. Your body probably needed the rest after last night. You close your eyes, finding it hard not to revisit the memories of last night, subconsciously moving yourself closer to Dabi's sleeping figure as you do so.
It had all seemed so fast, so desperate, but also as though time had stopped in place simultaneously.
You hadn't made it off the couch before Dabi was pinning your wrists above your head and lining himself up with your entrance, both of you breathing heavily and him sneering down at you patronisingly as he mocked you for wanting him 'so fuckin' badly'. The words that had probably meant to make you feel a little degraded, at least slightly belittled, had only succeeded in making your stomach coil more as you could only moan in response.

You were also pretty sure you quite literally tore his shirt off at one point during the night. Or at least tore it enough that he finally surrendered into your want for him to be just as bare and exposed as you, and took it off himself.
Your cheeks heat up as you remember steam pretty much leaving the slight gaps between his clear and scarred skin in streams, heating up the entire room as he had plowed into you with fervour.  His hands had even gotten a little too hot at one stage, and you remember letting out a surprised yelp as he'd grabbed your hips, trying to shift you so you were on top of him.
You trace your fingers down to your hip, snorting ever so slightly when you feel a little heat still radiating from the skin there. No doubt if you were to press harder, it'd hurt. You didn't mind too much, though. This time it had purely been an accident, a loss of control over his Quirk purely because of his emotion.
It'd be a pain later, no doubt, and if both sides of your waist were burned you'd probably have to sift through your clothes to find some loose-fit outfits while it healed.

You silently hope most of the damage done to your skin is done in easily hidden places. Hiding hickeys for work was a little impractical, and although you really didn't mind wearing the bruises with pride, it was still looked down upon by general society.
Sleep seems to evade you no matter how much you will your brain to be quiet, to stop dwelling on the night prior, and you wonder how long Dabi will sleep for. It was no fun being stuck awake while you had company that was sleeping.
You'd both been pretty fucked out again once Dabi had finished, both of you drenched in sweat, beads of grey-tinted sweat dropping from Dabi's hair onto your face and chest as he caught his breath over you, and you hadn't even minded.
You remember he'd mustered enough strength to carry you to bed, and place you down a lot more carefully than usual, apologising when a loose staple on his wrist had dragged across your back when he released you.

He'd even made his way to the kitchen while you watched after him, pulling the blanket up to your chin. He'd come back with a glass of water in each hand, passing you one and setting his own on one of your bed side tables.
'Drink. Sleep.' He'd said gruffly.
Thinking back to it, his walk had seemed a little staggered, as though he may have been in pain.
Guilt knots in your stomach, and you turn to look over at him again. He still seems sound asleep.
You hope that you're misremembering, that he maybe was staggering because he was tired himself and struggling to keep his eyes open.
In the heat of the moment, you'd forgotten how fragile his body truly was, even with the lean muscle that had surprised you when you first saw it. He was put together with staples that seemed to tug loose easily, and he'd shown you himself that he struggled with heatstroke from his own Quirk, as well as living with pain that you knew he was reliant on illegal substances to curb.
You wonder about his background, turning over and wincing when your sheets rub against the other side of your waist, highlighting the fact that you were burnt either side.

How had he become how he was?
The damage to his body was extensive. His face, neck, a large portion of his chest, both of his arms, a patch across his stomach and back, his thighs and one of his lower legs were all damaged, or scarred skin. But bodies were built for Quirks. He should be able to withstand the heat he could produce. That's how the human body worked for those with Quirks.
You lightly place your arm over the purple area of his stomach, scooting yourself closer to him, and watching carefully to make sure you don't wake him.
"You know you could tell me anything, and I wouldn't tell a soul, right?" You whisper, hoping that your words would reach him in his sleep. "You don't have to threaten me. I want to know you."
He huffs slightly, making your eyes shoot open in panic. You hold your breath, waiting for him to move, for his icy glare to capture you, but he seems to remain dead to the world.
You release your breath as quietly as possible, your eyes fixed on his hidden face.
"What's your story?" You mumble, more to yourself than speaking to him again.

"Shh." His voice rumbles through your mattress, and you grimace. "Sleepin'."
You fight the urge to snort at him.
'I can see that.' You think to yourself, keeping the silence like he asked.
You run your eyes over his sleeping body one more time before closing your eyes and attempting once again to join him in sleeping.