Archive of Our Own

Yuuji’s body jolts. Shoves him awake.

It does that a lot these days. Leaves his heart hammering with a dream cut short still haunting him. A foot-falling-through-the-floor kind of dream, a missing-a-step-on-the-way-down kind of dream. Way down where, Yuuji never remembers, but he knows he’s been walking it for a while now.

His hand is still twitching where it rests on Megumi’s hip. Yuuji tries to stop it, doesn’t wanna wake Megumi up. The veins in his wrist jump. They’re moonlight-grey and goosebumped because Megumi likes to sleep with the curtains cracked and the window lodged open. You’re a furnace and I like the moon, he’ll say. It sounds like scared of the dark. It sounds like there are things I need to see before they see me. It sounds like a window’s an easier escape when it’s open.

Yuuji wishes he could tell him there’s nothing to be afraid of. He cracks the curtains and opens the window and falls asleep with his hand on Megumi’s hip instead. At least until his body jolts again because it won’t listen to him telling it not to.

It pulls him out of bed before long. Megumi stirs. Rolls over into the furnace-warm depression Yuuji left behind. Yuuji wants to smile but his face won’t pull that way.

The floorboards creak underfoot, louder than they should for someone Yuuji’s build, even with all the muscle he’s been putting on. They moan like there’s more than one body leaning on them, more than the weight of just one. Yuuji ignores it and heads to the bathroom.

He flips the toilet seat up. Tugs his dick out. Pees. Doesn’t turn the light on. Tucks his dick away. Flushes and flips the seat back down. Stands in front of the sink. Doesn’t quite get as far as turning it on.

Yuuji doesn’t remember the last time he looked in a mirror at night. He can manage it in the mornings (that sounds like scared of the dark too) but never at night. There’s no point to it anyway, not with the light off. You can’t see anything.

It’s what he tries to tell himself when his body won’t let him look away. His eyes can’t even blink.

The longer he looks, the more his eyes adjust. There’s a window in the bathroom. Not open, but no curtains. The moon shines here too, just a little. Just enough.

Yuuji can make out his can’t-close eyes. The way they’re shadowed beneath the set of his brows. He can make out the cut of the bones in his cheeks, where they hollow in just above his jaw. He can make out the shape of his mouth. Top lip, bottom lip, separated because the latter trembles. He can make out that he’s scared.

His body makes him stand here for what feels like forever.

Some time in that forever, his cheeks cave. His brows twist in. His eyes turn upside down. His mouth spreads wide and thins out and pulls every which way. It happens very slowly and it hurts.

Please, Yuuji begs, but his mouth won’t move any way other than too far. A tear winds its way out of the cavern of his upside-down eye. It rolls up.

You wanted to smile.

The thing inside makes him, and Yuuji watches his lips split.

Hurts. It’s a mistake he always makes, letting it know that. It always laughs at him.

Does it?

It twists him up further. Pinches his face by the nose and winds, and winds. Yuuji would cry out but it’s catching his throat, winding that up too.

Hurts!

Does it? Does that hurt, boy? Is that hurting? Is this hurt?

It’s gonna rip Yuuij’s face off and make Yuuji watch in this mirror lit only by the moon.

Yuuji can’t breathe for the pain of it, and just when he think it’s finally time, it’s finally gonna kill him, Yuuji’s kept it down for years and now it’ll break his body coming out with Megumi sleeping next door—

It lets him go. Yuuji gasps, keels over the sink, eyes watering. Coughs wrack him. He doesn’t look back up for another forever. When he does, his face is back. His eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth, all back where they should be, all his. All over he’s sore.

It’s still laughing at him. Echoes in Yuuji’s skull.

This is not hurt, boy. This is play. Be grateful I only use you.

Yuuji is long since past answering back. It’s right. It used to hurt him way more.

He waits for it to stop laughing before he goes back to bed. Back to Megumi. When he lays down, he keeps an inch of space between them.

Yuuji still doesn’t really know where Megumi goes all day.

School. Where else? Megumi will say, and sure, that makes sense; his school’s pretty far away after all. Yuuji doesn’t think he’s lying. He just doesn’t think that’s where he always goes, all day.

“Why d’ya have to go for so looooong.”

Sometimes, all day becomes all week.

Megumi grunts. “It’s not as long as last time. Quit whining.” He tucks his phone into an outside pocket of his packed school bag.

Yuuji never sees him pack any pencils. Or pens. No notebook either, no paper. They’re probably all in Megumi’s dorm at Jujutsu Tech, the dorm that Yuuji still isn’t allowed to visit even though he’s been dating Megumi almost two years. It’s religious, says Megumi. What Yuuji does to Megumi most days definitely isn’t, so he’s stopped pressing.

Yuuji flops back onto his bed, dramatic enough to make the springs squeak. “Ughhhhh. I’m never gonna see you againnnn,” he complains, immediately wishing he hadn’t. He doesn’t wanna give anything any ideas, not that his thoughts are ever private anyway, spoken or silent.

Megumi levels him with a flat stare. “Are you breaking up with me.”

Yuuji almost falls off the bed. “No!”

“Then you’ll see me in a week.” Megumi zips up his bag, hefts it onto his shoulder. “Idiot.”

Yuuji pouts. “That wasn’t funny.”

He gets all dog-caught-in-rain when Megumi’s about to leave. He can’t help himself, can’t keep it out of his voice. It’s just so much harder to feel all that he feels when Megumi is away from him. The parts that are him and the parts that are not. Megumi is probably safer all the way up in those mysterious mountains but Yuuji only gets a day into their distance before he starts losing his mind, wanting and willing to risk everything to have Megumi back beside him, back in his bed.

Megumi just stares at him. His eyes are blue, shift green sometimes in the centre, in the sunlight. Yuuji can’t believe he’s about to go another week without them, and that must show. Megumi’s brows tilt the tiniest bit towards pity, like he wants to let the stray pup inside for a while.

He stalks over, slow and intense. Yuuji doesn’t even think he means to move that way, he just kind of does. Careful, almost choreographed, but effortless. Purposeful. He bends at the waist once he reaches Yuuji’s bed, hovers over him so Yuuji doesn’t have to keep straining his neck just to keep watch.

“I wasn’t joking,” Megumi assures. “One week, okay? You can call me.”

Yuuji swallows. “I know, I know. Just miss you when you’re gone.”

I miss you, too, isn’t something Megumi says often. Or ever. He’ll just kiss Yuuji instead. His mouth is always cold, which Yuuji would worry about more if he didn’t spend more seconds in a day than he can count lapping it warmer. He tries now, poking his tongue out, drawing it over Megumi’s lower lip, humming when Megumi stays silent but shivers.

“You sure I can’t come with you?” Yuuji mutters. So maybe he still presses a little.

Megumi scoffs. “Dumb dog. Stay put.”

Yuuji bites him. Hard.

Megumi hisses and pulls back, sucks his bitten lip into his now-warm mouth. Yuuji blinks up at him, chest hollow.

“Ow.” Megumi raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Yuuji whispers. He can still feel the flesh of Megumi’s lip bending beneath the pressure of his incisors, pushed up plush against their gums.

Eyes rolling, Megumi readjusts his school bag. “You’re an idiot. Do your homework, clean your room, eat a fucking vegetable sometimes. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Yuuji mumbles, watching Megumi go. He’s rubbing his bottom lip the entire way out.

There are definitely things Megumi doesn’t tell him, but Yuuji supposes that just makes them even. The list of secrets Yuuji hasn’t shared all fall under one umbrella, and Yuuji wouldn’t even know where to start. Maybe with how that bite hadn’t been him.

“Your signal’s always so crappy up there.”

“Right, yeah. In the mountains.”

“Tell them to give the mountains better Wi-Fi.”

Megumi almost smiles at that, so Yuuji knows that he misses him. It makes him smile right back, even bigger than before; he’s had a grin going since Megumi picked up.

“Sure. I’ll keep them from their duties to make sure they give the mountains better Wi-Fi for the sole purpose of calling my boyfriend.”

Yuuji blushes. That word only just started sounding natural coming out of Megumi’s mouth. It still catches Yuuji off guard.

“Jerk. Other people would probably appreciate it too…”

The picture quality is just as crappy as the sound. Yuuji still catches Megumi’s mouth twitching.

“You’re stupid.” It doesn’t even sound snide. He misses Yuuji so much.

“Wanting to talk to you makes me stupid?” Yuuji teases.

“Yes. Very.”

Yuuji can’t argue with that. He feels stupid, all sorts of dumb and dopey, slumping a little lower in his bed and idly patting his bare, butterfly-filled stomach because even just looking at Megumi makes him feel fidgety. His fingers tap too close to the drawstrings of his sweatpants, subconscious. His blood’s already singing, softly, in fairness, but it’s only a matter of time before the sound of Megumi’s voice crackling over a shitty speaker will make it croon even louder. He knows how this goes. Stupid, not oblivious.

Megumi’s giving him careful eyes, impassive eyes, so he wants to make Yuuji wait for it. That’s fine; Yuuji doesn’t mind being made to cave first. He’ll keep tapping away.

“Have you been real busy since you got up there?” Two days ago. Two days too many.

Megumi shrugs, pushing fingers into the soft spikes of his hair, scratching an itch up near the crown of his head.

“Kind of. Mornings are slow but nights pick up a little.”

Yuuji stops himself from frowning. Just. What sort of classwork has Megumi so busy but only once it gets dark? It’s the exact kind of question that would cause an argument, and turning their backs on each other hurts even worse when they’re not sharing a bed.

“I hope you’ve been sleeping well, then,” Yuuji says, stifling a yawn even just at the mention of sleep. Not a bad deflection if you ask him. Still kinda bites that he’s gotten so good at them.

Megumi snorts. “I sleep fine. Have you?”

Yuuji bares all his teeth in the most obnoxious grin he can muster. “As good as I can without my boyfriend.” See, Yuuji’s never had trouble with that word.

Megumi’s pretty face contorts in an embarrassed grimace. “Gross. Don’t flirt with me.”

It echoes, Yuuji’s answering laugh. Bounces around in his chest and his brain and his bedroom. It had been so quiet before, he realises. So, so quiet. He stops his brain ten thoughts before it can inquire about why that feels kinda weird.

Megumi’s smile helps, much more than a twitch of the mouth this time. It barely makes a dent in his cheeks but that’s as big as Megumi’s smiles get anyway. He’s wearing his biggest smile for Yuuji’s laugh. The butterflies fly into Yuuji’s throat and he quiets, shy. Megumi’s smile turns sly.

“You been doing your homework?”

Yuuji nods.

“Cleaned your room?”

“A little.”

“Hm. Eating properly?”

“Uh-huh.” There we go. Blood singing sweeter now. Yuuji likes when Megumi checks in on him too much. It makes him shift around waiting for a head pat that Megumi will withhold until the last possible second because the waiting is fun for him, too.

Megumi blinks at him slow. His shirt is loose, showing collarbone.

He hums. “Good.”

Yuuji hums back. So good.

“Miss you,” he implores.

Megumi rolls onto his back and stretches his free arm above his head, face twisting at the pull on his muscles. He almost seems bored. Yuuji’s chest and the high points of his cheeks start to flush.

“You look like you’re doing fine on your own.”

Yuuji squirms. Pulls a drawstring loose. “I do better when you’re here.”

He circles his bellybutton with his drawstring’s aglet. Megumi will do that with a fingertip when he’s here. Rarely, but enough for Yuuji to crave the way it spreads goosebumps from his stomach out, the same path of his arousal. It feels dirty the way innocent things sometimes do.

On camera, Megumi tilts his head, watching. Just watching.

“You’re so pretty, y’know,” Yuuji enthuses.

A pink-cheeked scoff. “Yeah, yeah. Take it out.”

“Yesss,” Yuuji breathes, and Megumi scoffs again, such sweet derision. The way Megumi laughs at him always burns in Yuuji’s gut, makes him feel all kinds of embarrassed for being all kinds of besotted, and nothing makes jerking off feel better than Megumi’s hand, other than humiliation.

The top and bottom rows of Yuuji’s teeth touch tight. His exhale when he touches his cock has to squeeze between them, whistling on the way out. Yuuji pumps himself dry for a bit because that’s how Megumi would do it too, because Yuuji’s gonna leak wetter than spit could make him anyway. His dick gets so drooly but he just can’t help it. He likes Megumi so much.

“You make me so hard.” It’s almost a complaint, the way Yuuji whines about it.

Megumi hums. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji pants. “Wanna see?”

Megumi swallows. Yuuji wants to put his cock in his throat and feel it.

“Mhm. Show me.”

Yuuji shifts his phone down until the hand holding it rests on his upper thigh. He’s done this enough now to know the angle Megumi likes; dick centre-stage with Yuuji’s flushed face in the background so Megumi can watch both when he comes. The first time they ever fucked over the phone, Yuuji had hidden his face in his pillow. Now, sometimes, he’ll even stick his tongue out panting on-screen if it gets them gone enough.

Now, every time, he’ll show himself off. Yuuji tilts his cock this way and that. Holds it at the base then at the tip. Strokes his foreskin down so Megumi can see the head peek out and leak. He hopes the video quality picks it up well enough. If not, Yuuji has never minded sending pictures.

Megumi sighs, music to Yuuji’s ears. His hand disappears off-screen.

“You’re such a loser,” Megumi ridicules. “Haven’t even done anything yet.”

“I miss you,” Yuuji emphasises. Like there needs to be any other reason.

“Mm. I know.”

Fuck, he’s doing the thing. The thing where he can’t say more than a couple words at once because. Because something’s tying his tongue. Because he’s feeling too good.

“Lemme see,” Yuuji begs. His palm is wet, curled in a fast-moving circle around his cock. The stroke feels so good. Makes Yuuji’s hips jump. “Lemme see you too, wanna see, wanna see you touch, Megumi.”

Megumi shakes his head. He always does, but Yuuji will always ask. He’ll ask a lot.

“C’mon,” he whines, pathetic. “C’mon, please, I’m doin’ good, doin’ what you asked me to, been doin’ it all, c’mon.”

Megumi’s head tilts back into his pillows, showing the underside of his jaw and the sweet throat Yuuji wants to fuck so bad, god he bets it’s so soft in there. Megumi gags if Yuuji’s dick pokes him too far so Yuuji isn’t allowed to set the pace, can only lay still while Megumi works his mouth on him. If he gets too eager, Megumi will hold his hips down. Yuuji always comes seconds after. He feels close now just watching Megumi’s throat bob, swallowing spit to speak.

“You think that’s—mm—how it works?” Oh, Yuuji can hear what he’s doing, he can hear wet. “You think being a functioning—ah—functioning fuckin’ human gets you pussy?”

“Yes,” Yuuji says, because it usually does.

“Shut up,” Megumi complains, because he knows it’s true. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

Do better.

Yuuji drops his phone.

That’s why it had felt so quiet.

“Hey,” Megumi’s voice calls from somewhere in Yuuji’s sheets. “Where’d you go?”

Yuuji’s chest fills with air so fast he worries it’ll crack open. He lets the breath out shaky, another between-teeth exhale. His ribs, his cock, his chest, it all aches, throbbing the way hearts do post-jumpscare.

“Here, ‘m here,” he mutters, fumbling for his phone.

Megumi grins at him when he’s back in frame. For a second, his mouth is a too-wide smear.

“I scare you?”

A shiver traces Yuuji’s spine. “Guess so.”

You are pathetic.

“Pff. You’re shy now.”

That’s one word for it. Yuuji doesn’t know what to do with his free hand anymore, not now that there’s more than Megumi watching. God, it’s always watching. How could he have forgotten?

Megumi definitely doesn’t take Yuuji’s silence as shyness alone, he’s too smart for that, but it’s late and they’re far apart and Yuuji watches him decide to let it go. They’d been feeling good together, feeling real fucking good. There’s nothing that quiets Yuuji’s anxieties like an orgasm and Megumi knows that, even though he doesn’t know that anxieties aren’t all that Yuuji wants shut up.

“Still want it, don’t you?” The rectangle of Megumi’s camera view starts to reveal more. The wrinkles in Megumi’s shirt from being tugged up, the peaks of his nipples. The long, sweet stretch of his stomach. A hip bone pokes into the corner of the frame and Yuuji whimpers. “Don’t you? You were just begging for it.”

I didn’t choose this body for it to beg.

“Fuck, stop,” Yuuji gasps.

It sounds just enough like the right kind of overwhelm for Megumi to play with it, and maybe it is. Yuuji is still hard.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘please.’”

Mouthy brat. Should fuck his throat closed.

“Oh, my god.” It’s. It’s never said anything like that before.

Why so horrified? You started it.

It’s right. Yuuji had said it, hadn’t he? He bets it’s so soft in there.

“Uh-huh, getting warmer,” Megumi croons, getting breathy now. Yuuji can hear wet again. “Almost there.”

Still talking. Like I wouldn’t use his hole ‘til it hurts him. Like you wouldn’t.

I’d never. Wouldn’t ever hurt him.

It laughs in every single corner of Yuuji’s brain.

Show him, boy. Tell him allll about how you wouldn’t hurt him. Tell him who begs here.

Yuuji doesn’t know what the fuck that means, not any of it. Not the filth, not the appraisal, not the ‘I didn’t choose this body.’ Choose? It chose him?

And I don’t choose wrong.

Yuuji’s hand moves to his cock. Not on its own, and not by him either, but the way this feels all of a sudden? Yuuji’s not entirely certain he wouldn’t have put it there himself anyway. That voice in his head, its presence in his body, making him move. Every word dripping filth, all of Yuuji’s desires turned disgusting. Object of those desires on the phone so close to showing Yuuji exactly what he’s doing to make himself so wet.

“Think you want it more than I do.”

Megumi falters. His arm stills and the wet sounds stop.

“What?”

Yuuji speaks slowly. These aren’t words he knows how to say but secretly, he knows they’re words he’s always wanted to. Maybe not so secretly anymore.

“Y-Yeah. You like makin’ me desperate for it but I think you wanna show me your pussy anyway.”

There’s silence for a second, and it makes Yuuji’s heart thump almost as much as its voice had. Megumi blinks at him, close to impassive again, only hindered by his chest, panting, his cheeks, blushing.

“Megumi–”

“Maybe. Yeah.”

Oh. Yuuji’s eyes widen. His cock kicks in his palm. He strokes it just as slow as he talks. “Yeah? You wanna?”

Megumi nods. His arm moves. “Uh-huh.”

He likes this. Megumi likes Yuuji talking like this, talking more like it.

“I fuck it good, don’t I?” Yuuji makes his voice sweet, the way it usually is, the way he can’t help, even when this is the kinda shit it’s saying. “I fuck you good, Megumi?

Megumi nods again. Yuuji strokes a little faster.

“Can you tell me? You should tell me, wanna hear you.”

“You fuck me good. You fuck it good.”

Yuuji wants to push, and push. He wants to make Megumi tell him what he fucks good, wants to hear Megumi say the word, it would sound so, so sexy in his voice, all begrudging and coerced and irrepressibly horny all the same.

“Show me,” Yuuji spits, decibels away from a growl. “Show me what I fuck good.”

He really doesn’t think Megumi will do it, thinks he’s pushed his luck too far, until Megumi’s phone shifts again and there’s his other hip bone and the ice-blue veins crawling up his pelvis and oh.

“Fuck.”

He’s knuckle deep in it. Two knuckles deep. He’s wet down to his ass and oh, god, Yuuji—

Would fuck that, too.

“Oh, look how bad you want it,” Yuuji pants, working his cock ragged, stripping it raw.

“Yuuji,” Megumi pants. He’s so gone he can’t keep his own face in frame anymore, just his mouth. Pink, open, slick, fuck, just like–

“You’ll give it to me when you’re back,” Yuuji breathes. “You’ll give it to me, I’ll have it, ‘gonna have it, Megumi, gonna have you. You want that?”

“Yes,” Megumi gasps, fingers working.

“Say that you want it.”

“I want it.” He doesn’t even hesitate, like he’s wanted to be like this for Yuuji, like it’s been inside him this whole time, the way Yuuji’s own brand of filth has, festering.

“Want it bad?”

“Want it bad. Want you, bad.”

“Mm. That doesn’t sound like ‘please.’”

“Please.”

“Oh, fu–”

Yuuji doesn’t even mean to come. It spills out of him unbidden just like every word since this thing spoke up. Yet another thing to ache like a scare he wasn’t expecting. He pumps over his stomach, over his chest, almost over his screen. It feels so good. Curls him over, scrunches his eyes up, but not enough to miss Megumi coming too, tripping into it with his fingers digging somewhere good, making a fresh mess because Yuuji made him beg for it.

Yuuji made him beg.

The comedown’s gonna be bitter. Yuuji can already feel it, the shame that lingers whenever it intervenes. Usually, though, it’ll taunt Yuuji alone. Disgust him, scare him, make something frightening of his own want, make it unfamiliar. This is the first time it’s ever spoken of Megumi. This is new. Yuuji doesn’t like new, except his cock is still slowly spilling so maybe something inside him does. Whatever it was that made his body the right choice for this torture.

The call is still running. Megumi’s face is back in frame, blinking slowly at him, dazedly. Carefully. Watching. Yuuji’s stomach turns.

Good boy.

“Ahh, fuck.”

Megumi always sounds like Yuuji’s hurting him when they do this. Like Yuuji’s licking through him, melting him layer by sweet layer, like Megumi’s peeling apart under his tongue. Yuuji used to be much more skittish about those high, tight whines. Now, if he doesn’t hear them, he knows he’s not doing a good enough job.

Megumi gets real slippery for this, on Yuuji’s mouth for sure but in his hands, too. Squirming, twisting, hard to keep a grip on him. Even now, his thighs shake in Yuuji’s hold, trying to close, trying to run. Yuuji pulls Megumi closer against him and hums into the next stroke of his tongue, curls Megumi’s mess right back to the top of his throat. Swallows down and groans.

“Gh–ah. God.”

Yuuji sucks. Pulls. He loves the feel of Megumi’s skin between his lips. Loves to have his mouth full on everything that makes his boyfriend come wet. He starts to get dizzy before long, swooning for it, lost in his flexing jaw and dripping chin. His hips will work his cock into his bed, trying to jerk it off in the sheets. He’ll come before Megumi some days, but that just means he gets to be down here longer.

It’s so, sooo hard to leave it alone, Yuuji never wants to stop, but he likes to look, too. He likes to see what he’s done. He lifts up now, still close enough to go a little cross-eyed with staring because he hasn’t got that much restraint. He just wants to see. Megumi’s pussy flushed and unfurling, wet all over. It’s so cute, Megumi’s so cute, Yuuji wants to fuckin’. Nuzzle his nose against it or something. So he does.

“What the fuck,” Megumi pants, tugging Yuuji’s hair. “You’re so—fucking—weird.” Talking in fits and starts because it’s still stimulation, rushing to get a word out before the next sucking kiss Yuuji lays to him.

“‘M not,” Yuuji mumbles. “Just missed you. Just love it s’much.”

“Quit sniffing it, then.”

Yuuji wasn’t sniffing it. Not that he wouldn’t. But Megumi’s right; his mouth’s been empty long enough.

Megumi sighs so deep when Yuuji fills it again, sloppier the longer he laps. He’s so honest like this. It’s the most unmaking kind of pleasure for him, he’s told Yuuji so. Nothing gets him gone like this does, and nothing gets Yuuji gone like giving it to him. He loves to be inside but being inside makes him actually stupid. The whole world blurs under the pleasure of fucking root-deep, that hot-wet squeeze on his cock melts his brain out of his ears, all the details get lost. This, though, is a different kind of bliss. This is face-first. It commands all his attention.

Not all.

No–!

Keep. Your head. Down.

It makes him. It holds Yuuji down by the back of his neck and keeps him in Megumi’s pussy before Yuuji’s body can complete its flinch. Yuuji’s fingers sink into the flesh of Megumi’s thighs, pinching.

“Ahh,” Megumi gasps. Fuck, that is hurt, that time. It’s making Yuuji hurt him.

What did I say about hurt, boy?

Yuuji’s tongue points, and works Megumi slowly. Deeply. Too hard. It draws up the centre of Megumi’s pussy and over his clit and it’s hard, focused, pinpoint pressure. The way Megumi squirms is a hair too close to discomfort.

“What are you doing?”

Yuuji’s not doing.

Dumb, slathering dog. All you know how to do is drool.

It pulls Yuuji’s lips back. Makes him bare his teeth.

You think you’d know how to bite, too.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pressure on Yuuji’s nape might break it. Yuuji’s eyes might roll. It starts to move his head. It drags the very edge of Yuuji’s bared teeth up Megumi’s inner thighs. One after the other. Megumi’s skin is so sensitive the touch raises a red line even before it makes Yuuji bite.

“Ow. Fuck. Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s heart thuds. His cock kicks.

Ahhh.

What the fuck, Yuuji can feel it breathe in.

So long. Too long. Pussy this sweet on your tongue and you want to rush.

Megumi’s thighs are shaking again but Yuuji knows this specific tremor. This doesn’t mean wanting to close, or wanting to run.

That. See that?

Yuuji closes his mouth over Megumi’s skin, teeth digging in, and sucks. He feels the quake of Megumi wanting to come. Yuuji’s cock aches wanting it too.

Good. Good. Nothing makes a man come harder than making it hurt.

Yuuji’s fingers lift from Megumi’s thighs to thumb his pussy apart.

Scare him.

Yuuji drags his teeth over Megumi’s inner lips. The most sensitive skin.

“Yuuji, don’t–”

Threaten pleasure.

Yuuji takes that skin between his teeth and tugs.

“Fuck!”

You could hurt him so much more. Make him think you will.

Yuuji’s jaw shakes trying to apply only a little more pressure. He’s scared it will make him bite down here.

“Please,” Megumi whispers. What’s he begging for? For it to happen, or for it to not?

Aww. You’re learning. Do you want him to come?

So bad.

Then where do you think you should threaten him next?

Yuuji’s mouth is moving over before the thought has even finished echoing. Teeth over Megumi’s clit, tracing, glancing. A hard edge that would hurt, could hurt. Megumi’s breathing fast. Yuuji is so close, cock leaking so much he might already be coming. Just means he gets to be down here longer.

He closes his mouth around Megumi’s clit. Draws it inside against the grain of his teeth. Sucks hard, then harder, then harder. He doesn’t stop.

He’s never felt Megumi come like this before. Never. He’s never heard him cry for it, not like this, not like it hurts so much, not like his body doesn’t know what to do with how good that feels. His back snaps off Yuuji’s bed, hips trying to cave away, and Yuuji holds him close. Traps him. He doesn’t even need something to make him.

Orgasm tears through Yuuji too, properly, painfully. It’s an assault on him, this much pleasure, terror on his nerves. It’s more sensation than one body can stand, more than one body’s sensation, and it shoves Yuuji’s hips into the mattress ceaselessly, makes him spill and spill and spill. Fuck, if this is even half the hurt that Megumi is feeling under his mouth…

He must be feeling so good.

Yuuji feels the grip on his brain and body ease. He feels it let him be, for now. Immediately, he crawls up Megumi’s body, muscles burning but needing to be close. Needing Megumi next to him rather than under him, needing no longer to be above. It scares him, that vantage point. The things it makes him do up there.

Panting, Yuuji pulls Megumi against him, eager but careful. Megumi shudders, body locking up where it’s still feeling what Yuuji did to him, the pleasure he made from pain. He uses whatever control he can still muster to curl into Yuuji, and Yuuji uses whatever control it will still allow him to hold Megumi close. They’re both sticky, both soiled. Both disgusting. There aren’t words yet for what that was, and neither of them try to provide any. They lay in the mess they made, recovering. They lay a long time.

Yuuji can feel the questions in the silence. Megumi doesn’t know what to make of this and Yuuji couldn’t even begin to help him, even though he should. But from one beat of silence to the next, Yuuji feels another release, another letting go. Megumi’s not going to ask, and Yuuji’s not going to tell him.

Instead, Megumi groans and slaps weakly at Yuuji’s chest.

“Space heater. You’re seriously too fucking hot,” he complains. “Pisses me off.”

Yuuji’s heart throbs raw around the edges. He really feels the blood it’s pumping. His stomach sours, his ears droop. It’s not his fault there’s more than one body’s heat inside him. At least, he doesn’t think it’s his fault. He doesn’t know what happened but he still maintains he’d never choose this, no matter how hard it’s made them come.

He huffs a laugh because Megumi’s not looking at him and a laugh’s a laugh no matter how downturned the mouth. “Keep calling me hot and I might think you like me or something.”

Megumi lifts his head from Yuuji’s shoulder to punch it. “Pissing me off,” he mumbles when he lays back down on what will be a bruise. All that heart-blood beating harder.

Yuuji hums and reaches over to turn the bedside lamp off. Window already lifted from the jamb letting a breeze in, curtains already peeled apart showing the moon. Yuuji thumbs Megumi’s shoulder, a much softer touch than Megumi had given his, but it’s all love all the same.

Moments like this should be good for feeling lucky. He’s going to fall asleep with his boyfriend’s cum tart on the back of his tongue, mouth swollen from licking it from him. He’s going to fall asleep with his boyfriend’s nose whistling air onto his collarbone, his boyfriend’s milk-warm thigh over his crotch. He’s going to fall asleep with his boyfriend, full stop. Megumi’s his.

His–his own, not–

Mine.

Fuck, no, not yours–

I’m going to keep him.

You can’t.

How will you stop me?

Yuuji shifts to cushion Megumi’s head further away from his neck and chest. His heart doesn’t beat quite so loud in his shoulder. Only Yuuji and this thing need to know how fast it runs, all night.

It never leaves. Even more than before, it never leaves.

It’s in the corner of Yuuji’s conscience like something just out of sight, like something you hurt your eyes trying to catch, forcing them into the very edge of your peripheral view. It’s like something digging into your gums that your tongue only pushes in deeper trying to work it out.

It’s getting louder than Yuuji’s thoughts. Yuuji’s thoughts speak its language, in its voice. Yuuji doesn’t know which parts of him belong to which parts of him. He goes quiet most days for fear that he’ll open his mouth and it’ll speak before him.

His body feels heavier every day. It feels like something growing. Pressing against his skin from the inside, testing the give. Skin tears so easily; paper cuts through. What will this do? How much worse than that could it cut him when it’s already on the inside?

Yuuji feels it so much, he doesn’t understand how everybody else can’t, how Megumi can’t. Every kiss, every orgasm. Hips to hips, stuffed inside, touching Megumi deep, Yuuji still worries when the pleasure isn’t breaking what’s left of his brain, he worries that there’s a deeper. He worries about passing it on. Giving it to Megumi, somehow. He worries that it’s in the spit he drools into Megumi’s mouth, the cum he pumps into Megumi’s pussy, viral. But he loves Megumi more than he hates himself for risking it. So he doesn’t stop. And so it doesn’t stop.

Almost three years since the night Yuuji can’t remember. A blip in consciousness that he didn’t wake up from alone. He almost doesn’t remember the before. Already not remembering the now. He has a feeling he won’t remember the after, either.

“Don’t know how much longer I can keep looking. There’s nothing here.”

Yuuji doesn’t know which of Megumi’s words wakes him. He registers sound first, the shape of speaking, and it pulls him from sleep slowly, lets him lay in limbo a while. That same moonlit-grey washes Yuuji’s room, only a touch darker than the backs of his eyelids. Yuuji closes his eyes, opens them, closes them again, switching between darknesses, listening to Megumi taking a phone call just outside his bedroom door.

“Yeah, I know what I said. It’s what I thought.”

There’s a way that people sound when they don’t know they’re being heard. There’s a way people sound when they don’t want to be heard. Megumi’s low voice bounces between those cadences and Yuuji tries to decide whether or not to interrupt. He doesn’t want to know what Megumi doesn’t want to tell him, what Megumi thinks he can’t hear. Nothing is worth listening to from someone who’s woken up to whisper it a room away.

“Fuck, Gojo, I don’t know. I don’t know. Sometimes I swear I feel something but I’ve been swearing that almost three years. What have I got to show for it?”

Yuuji feels a frown crease his forehead. He hasn’t heard that name before. A family member? A friend? A fellow student? Yuuji has always felt the ache of knowing so little about Megumi’s life, about the people in it. He feels it again now, learning that there’s somebody else other than Yuuji who Megumi would steal away to talk to at three in the morning.

“Sometimes I swear I see it, too. When he’s quiet, when he looks at me, when we—yeah. Sometimes there’s—something.”

You’ve gotten worse at hiding me.

…He’s talking about us?

“Thought I’d just have to wait long enough.”

Yuuji doesn’t even protest when it turns his body for him, tilting him closer to the closed door, to Megumi’s shadow hiding in the gap underneath.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

Leave? Megumi would leave him?

He won’t get to.

You’ll keep him here, right? With us? You said you would.

I said I’d keep him with me.

“I know it’s still out there. Said I’d find it, so I will.”

A pause where Megumi listens to the words of whoever wants to take him from them.

“Just wish I could take him with me.”

There’s nowhere Megumi could go that Yuuji wouldn’t follow. He knew that long before this thing first spoke. He knew that the first day they met, when he’d woken up in a hospital bed with Megumi standing next to him, the taste of something long-dead on the back of his tongue, his throat still bobbing from swallowing something he can’t remember. He can remember walking home earlier that day. Crossing campus grounds, passing the school’s shrine. Passing out steps later. Waking up to Megumi’s pretty face and scary questions. Almost three years ago.

He’d asked Yuuji about the shrine. If he’d opened it, if he’d seen anything, if he knew what was inside. Yuuji had answered no to every question. It hadn’t been a lie then. It still isn’t a lie now, but he supposes it’s not the whole truth, either. He supposes he can guess.

“They won’t kill him, right? I couldn’t find anything in him so this has nothing to do with him, yeah? He’s gonna be okay? He’ll be safe?”

The silence doesn’t sound promising. Yuuji would be more worried about that, but safe lost meaning to him a long time ago.

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

Megumi shifts from foot to foot. The floorboards creak but for him it’s still just one body’s weight.

“I’ll miss him.”

He won’t need to.

Yuuji wakes long before his body needs to shove him. Megumi lays sleeping next to him, an inch of space between them, face turned into the pillows, turned away. When Yuuji stands, Megumi doesn’t roll over into the warmth he leaves behind.

Floorboards creak in a greyscale hallway. Yuuji feels every imprint the wood grain makes in the soles of his feet. This is the heaviest his body has ever been, the most full, and still, it’ll only get fuller.

Scared isn’t the right word, not anymore. He doesn’t quite know when he stopped being afraid of what’s going to happen to him. Doesn’t remember the last time he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, terrified of what he’d see. When he enters the bathroom now, he stares the mirror straight in the face.

It’s only his face for a few seconds, and even then it’s not all that familiar. Haunting has done things to his skin that aging couldn’t, done things to his eyes that a lifetime of watching this world couldn’t. He wants to feel sorrow for the boy this happened to, but it’s long since eaten up every part of him that would’ve.

Before his eyes, it eats some more. Chews at his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the centre of his forehead where all those frowns furrow. The bags under his eyes, skirting down his cheeks to the corners of his mouth, to his chin. His skin caves in where the thing inside him pulls, and shadows fill the spaces, until Yuuji’s face is full of markings he’s never seen before. Markings that aren’t his.

These are yours?

Do you like them.

Eh. It’s done worse things to his face.

Was it you in that shrine? Somethin’ of you, that day? Is that when you found me?

You looked hungry. Looked empty.

That why you chose me?

I chose a body I knew could take me. A body I knew would want to, with time.

I never wanted you. I’d never have wanted this.

Please. There’s filth in you that I didn’t put there.

Hm. Megumi’s been looking for whatever of you was in that shrine. He’s been looking for you. Why hasn’t he found you? How hasn’t he known?

Don’t know. Don’t care. Maybe goodness cloaks me. All that dirt in you was deep down. It’s taken time to rot you out.

What will you do to him? To Megumi?

What you want done to him, too.

…Is this the hurt?

Mm. Almost.

When Yuuji wakes up this time, it’s to Megumi packing.

“Where are you going?” He rubs blearily at his face. His skin feels intact, and when Megumi spares him a second’s glance he doesn’t recoil in horror, so the markings must be gone. Another early morning trick of the moonlight, at least for now.

“Back to school,” Megumi answers, cutting his gaze away.

“...Okay,” Yuuji says, sitting up, scratching at his abs. “Now?”

“Mhm.”

“For how long?”

There it is. Megumi pauses, a balled up shirt in hand on its way to getting shoved into the corner of Megumi’s school bag.

“If this isn’t working for you we don’t have to keep doing it.”

Yuuji feels whatever’s left of him wanting to panic. Whatever’s left of him hasn’t seemed to catch on that Yuuji won’t let Megumi go for anything.

“It’s working for me,” he confirms softly. The mattress squeaks on its springs as he rises. “Have I made it seem like it’s not?”

Megumi shrugs. “I leave a lot. Know it’s hard on you. Just feel like it’s gonna get harder and I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“So you think if I don’t want this you won’t have to?”

Shoulders curled in, Megumi keeps his back to Yuuji. Almost looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller, like that’ll make it easier to slip through Yuuji’s fingers.

All it does make it easier to do is hold him. Yuuji fits Megumi’s back against his chest, reaches around and takes the shirt out of his hand, fingers curling around Megumi’s wrists. Megumi is so still Yuuji knows he’s keeping himself still. Yuuji can feel him wanting to melt.

“I know it’s hard on you, too,” he says. “Know you don’t wanna leave me.”

Megumi whispers, “I have to.”

“Nope.”

“Yuuji–“

Yuuji finds Megumi’s jaw where he’s trying to tuck it into his chest. It slots perfectly into the cradle of Yuuji’s thumb and forefinger, and Megumi follows so easily when Yuuji uses the grip to turn his head, to find his mouth.

Eagerness usually makes Yuuji sloppy, and there’s just something about kissing. The closeness, the vitality maybe. Whatever it is used to make him desperate. He’d be all tongue all the time, longing so much to kiss his boy, feel his mouth, eat him alive. Nothing feels more like getting to love Megumi than kissing him, and Yuuji used to take every opportunity to do so like it was his last.

Last has never been closer, but Yuuji’s never felt steadier. He plies Megumi through this kiss with all the ease of someone with nothing to lose but himself; encompassing, commanding, firm. He makes Megumi melt for it the way he knows he wants to, tiltng his head back, numbing his mouth, kissing his lips still when they start to tremble.

“You’re not quitting me that easy,” he promises.

“I–”

Yuuji kisses his mouth shut. “Not lettin’ go, Megumi. Want you.” Then he kisses his mouth open.

They kiss slick. Practiced. Yuuji lures Megumi back to bed with it, pinning him once they’re prone, matching every roll of his hips with every surge of his tongue. Megumi takes the kisses helplessly, Yuuji can feel it in his hands, not knowing where to put them, in his mouth, gasping for needy breath after needy breath. Yuuji likes him like this. Yuuji wants him spinning, wants him so dizzy he doesn’t know where the door is, can’t leave through it.

“Mine,” he bites into Megumi’s lower lip, along his jaw, down his neck. “Mine,” he vows over Megumi’s chest, shirt shoved off, skating from rib to rib, nipping, tickling.

“Mine,” he swears when he flips Megumi over. His voice carries the timbre of two.

“Ah. Seriously,” Megumi pants, voice shaking left to right as Yuuji jostles him, tugging his pants down, underwear following. “What’s–god–what’s gotten into you?”

Yuuji flicks his eyes up from where he’s tonguing down Megumi’s spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” Megumi muffles into his crossed arms, head buried. “Been acting weird for weeks, been different.” He sounds sniffly. “Making me lose my mind.”

Yuuji tries to claw his way back up on the inside. He tries.

“It’s just me,” he lies instead. Then licks Megumi up from front to back.

Megumi cries out. It cuts off in the middle, deadened, and Yuuji knows he’s bitten into his arm. He grins, tongue out, curling under, tilting his chin just so. Megumi shakes for it so sweetly, so shyly, like half the pleasure comes from the scandal of the position, the exposure. It’s so cute. He likes it so much when they put sex into him, when they make him take it. They’re gonna keep him forever.

Yuuji has him like that for what feels like hours. It gets Megumi leaking down to the mattress, gets his pussy flushing so sensitve and swollen that Yuuji can only lick more, suck more. He loves fucking Megumi any which way and he’s gonna give him much more than tongue soon but oh, to fuck him and taste him, all at once. To feel him open up on the same thing that’s tasting how much he likes it. Yuuji’s leaking down to the mattress himself for it, so hard he almost comes just pulling his cock from his sweats.

He wants to give Megumi his fingers. Wants to pop them in one by one, slip knuckle-deep into something sweet and try to scoop every last bit of it out.

It doesn’t let him. It pulls Yuuji’s face away from between Megumi’s legs, gets him straightened up on his knees, and makes him tap his cock where Megumi opens sticky.

“Wait,” Megumi protests, spine twisting, trying to turn back over.

It makes Yuuji hold him still. Hands on Megumi’s ass, gripping, spreading. It makes Yuuji tuck the head of his cock against Megumi’s pussy in mean little stabs, poking at the spill of him, feeling him pop open around the very tip then squeeze closed when Yuuji’s hips back away. It’s a torture that feels like biding time. Feels like gearing up for something. The outer edges of Yuuji’s body are starting to flicker.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Megumi mumbles. Helpless to it, still, the fact of pain. He’s like Yuuji that way.

“Yeah,” Yuuji confirms. “I know.”

He fucks in slowly. His entire body smiles on the inside. It smiles on the inside.

Pulling. Ripping. Searing. Yuuji feels his chest breaking open, his skin splitting apart, age-old aches flowing to the surface of him, welling up from deep. His cock aches where it’s stuck tight being squeezed on. The pleasure of opening, an act he’s doing and having done to him, makes his ears ring. His cells shimmer, making something new. Something very old.

Yuuji’s mouth tries to say Fuck, but he’s not sure what comes out instead. There’s not much tethering him anymore other than Megumi, whimpering into the fuck, something knowing to the quality of his moans, like he’d expected this after all. Pride makes the pleasure feel scorching.

Yuuji’s hips beat against Megumi’s ass, chasing how good it feels to fuck Megumi so wet, how animal like this, pulling him back on his cock, punching out the kind of sounds that only come from being touched as far inside you as it’s possible to go. It’s finally far too much feeling for Yuuji’s body to hold and what’s left of him likes that this is what maxed him out. Not fear and pain alone, but fear and pain tied to the body of the boy he loves more than anything in any world.

“Sweet,” it sneers.

Fuck you.

“Sukuna,” Fushiguro gasps.

That’s your name?

Brat. Sukuna ignores him, digging nails into the hot, beating body he’s fucking, the first he’s had in centuries. He sucks in a breath that tastes like sex, tastes like it should. His laugh rattles and he hears it echo in a room for once, not some teenager’s skull. He’s nowhere near the heights he once had but this? Oh, this? When he fucks back in, the boy beneath him squeals, and Ryoumen Sukuna knows he’ll get there again. He’ll get there good.

“Heard of me, hm?” Sukuna grins, all teeth. He keeps his hips rolling when he leans over Fushiguro, gets in his ear. He fists Fushiguro’s hair at its crown, tugs his face up from the pillows. “Nice to meet you, Fushiguro.”

“Been—looking—for you.” Each word bounces off each thrust.

“Found you first.” And fuck if it doesn’t feel damn good to drool over his catch. Sukuna lets his mouth drip, pinching the shell of Fushiguro’s ear between the points of his teeth. He loves when a lay gets scared on him. All tense and unmoving, like if they stay still enough he won’t break skin. He fucks too hard for that to ever work for them. Fushiguro was already small against his brat’s body; he’s featherlight now. He falls half off Sukuna’s cock on every thrust in. Sukuna moves him with his hips alone.

Fushiguro gets drooly too for a while. Not quiet, because none of them ever are, but words elude him. Sukuna likes them chatty but he’ll allow himself to be choosy later, with the world at his feet. He stirs Fushiguro up just fine without narration, other than the brat in his head, getting used to how he’s been slumming it for years.

Then, when Sukuna is certain Fushiguro’s reticence is because his body’s churning up an orgasm, Sukuna hears, “He was good.”

Ah. “Speak up, boy.” He tugs Fushiguro’s head further back, helps him out (only to fuck back in even harder).

Fushiguro’s words come out slurred in spit. “Yuuji was good.”

Megumi.

Tch. This sappy shit.

“He was more good than you’ll ever be bad.”

Megumi, please.

And they think Sukuna is gross.

“What does that make you? Looking for me. Waiting for me, waiting for this.” Sukuna bounces Fushiguro off his dick with harsh snaps of his hips and he knows how human mouths sound on the verge of coming. He knows how near-orgasm feels squeezing on him. “Think that makes you bad, Fushiguro. Think that makes you just. Like. Me.”

It was never gonna take much. Boys like Fushiguro melt butter-soft for things like Sukuna. Fushiguro comes perfect on him. Twitchy and sloppy, making noise he’s gonna blush about when he’s got some brain cells back. Sukuna revels in a body well-fucked, nailing Fushiguro into a deeper bend, hitting him where he knows it aches.

He comes so good for you.

Told you enough. Make it hurt.

Fushiguro slumps and Sukuna lets him, relinquishing his hold on that night-dark hair, watching him fall chest-first into the sheets. All Sukuna needs is a hole and he keeps Fushiguro’s right where it’s good for him, hips held up, slick cunt still perfect for using. He wouldn’t ever call himself trigger-happy but it’s been a thousand fucking years. All the orgasms he’s felt in that time were snapshots from the brat and he didn’t know how to fuck worth shit without Sukuna in his ear telling him how. He doesn’t just let himself have this, he takes it. He works himself up and comes so hard it makes this body fracture at the edges again, but the boy’s too deep to come back anywhere near surface-level. This is Sukuna’s now.

“Mine.” He grins. Jerks the last of his cum from his cock with Fushiguro’s body just because he can. “Mine.”

He tilts forward again, mouth aimed for Fushiguro’s naked, shuddering shoulder, teeth bared ready to bite–

And finds he can only kiss. His lips purse disgustingly softly against smooth skin. He can’t pull his lips back, can’t make his teeth sink in. The body doesn’t allow him to.

Ours.

Fushiguro sighs. “Yuuji.”

Hm. Maybe not deep enough.