Archive of Our Own

There they stood. In the parking lot of an apartment complex baking in the midday sun, four frat boys stare down an insurmountable problem in the form of Yuta’s 2012 Subaru Impreza Hatchback. Stuffed to the absolute brim with all the college essentials from Tame the Impala vinyls to a more than mildly dubious bean bag chair that Yuji thrifted off Facebook Marketplace. Four dudes’ worth of boxes and worthless garbage completely flood the backseat and stack up to the roof. It’s cartoonish. A couple of lacrosse sticks poke out the backseat window, and a framed poster of Jennifer Lawrence on the beach stares forlornly at the four of them from where she’s pressed against the rear window. Only one seat in the back remains open. If you could call the tiny boxed-in seat ‘open’. There’s hardly enough space in there to fit one grown man— let alone two.

“Well…” Yuta crosses his arms over his chest, frowning at the state of his precious mom-car. “This is a problem.”

Inumaki signs, “Dibs on Shotgun.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but his mouth does the slightest downward tick.

Yuji crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head at the car like looking at it sideways might unlock the hidden Tetris master part of his brain. They already have two mattresses tied down on top of the vehicle. Every spare inch has been stuffed with pairs of socks and basketball shorts. Looking at the singular, cramped, open backseat, Yuji almost regrets buying that bean bag. Almost.

“So, what’s the plan?” Yuji looks at the other three. “Two of us have to share a seat?”

Inumaki shrugs and gives a little peace sign as he claims the passenger seat and leaves the discussion. Yuta wrings his hands, grimacing at the state of his car.

“Sorry guys…” His lips press together in an awkward smile of appeasement as he looks between Yuji and Megumi. “It’s just a few hours of discomfort. But hey, maybe you’ll get to know each other a little better.”

Yuji watches the other freshman out of the corner of his eye. He has his head cocked slightly to the side, considering the car. A couple of unruly strands of black hair fall into his eyes. To say Megumi is a tough read is one hell of an understatement. They only met the night before and now they’re supposed to spend three hours on top of each other. Awesome. Or it would be awesome if the guy didn’t so obviously hate his guts.

“I mean…” Yuji shuffles in place. “I’m fine with it, but if Megumi isn’t then maybe I can take the train—”

“—I don’t care.” Megumi crosses his arms over his chest and looks Yuji dead on. Which sends an immediate crawling sensation up Yuji’s spine.

Those eyes are… intense. Scary .

“Great!” Yuta claps his hands together, yanks open the driver’s side door, and starts the car before anyone can change their mind. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Yuji snaps his attention back to Megumi. The other boy just stands there. One hip cocked, looking bored as his gaze slowly sweeps over Yuji. It feels like it cuts right through him. There’s a micro-expressionistic shift as his left brow ticks upwards. As if taking all the care to judge him just obviously enough so that Yuji can feel it.

It takes him back to last night.

To be completely honest, it was not Yuji’s best first impression. He was seven beers deep and halfway through the second watching of Jackass Number Two when Megumi came by their place. Yuta went on some long spiel introducing him, something about their time on the swim team in high school and how Megumi is a freshman like him. Yuji was not paying attention. Not at all. Because the thing is— Megumi is hot.

Yuji hasn’t been gay very long. Wait that’s not how he’s supposed to phrase it. Inumaki would probably smack him for implying it’s a thing that happens to you. Like a disease. He just figured it out recently. The whole gay thing. Which was easier than you might think. There he was on porn-hub— the gay side— as he often found himself when one day it hit him that perhaps this is something straight men do not do. That epiphany led him to a series of quizzes with equally shocking results. One Facebook announcement and Grindr account later, there he was: Itadori Yuji, the bisexual.

The only problem is that nobody else seems to get that. Yuji doesn’t know how or why but no matter what he tries the world still perceives him as straight. Like, muscles ripping through flannel on top of a galloping steed in an Old Spice commercial type straight. You would think a pink undercut and one earring would tip the scales just a little. But alas, instead of getting attention from cute guys in the gym, he’s complimented by girls for being so ‘secure in his masculinity’.

And that’s fine. Really. Yuji likes girls. He really likes girls. It was never a problem until Megumi walked in.

He never had a type. Blondes or brunettes. Tall girls with nice butts or short and also with nice butts. Tanned skin, freckled noses, tennis skirts that flare around the thighs. Fishnet stockings, lip piercings, and platform Doc Martens. There’s something pretty about every kind of person. Something that anyone could find charming. He’s never had a type because everyone is his type.

Or that’s what he thought before he met Megumi.

It wasn’t just the way he looked that night. Though it certainly didn’t hurt. Megumi just seemed cool . His clothes were baggy— but in a chic, alternative luxury sort of way. And god, he does look like luxury. There’s this way he holds himself. As if an angsty, apathetic teen brain was dropped into the body of a runway model so that even hunching his shoulders looks graceful. It’s the eyes that had Yuji stumbling over his own feet. Dark, dark blue hidden behind the longest eyelashes he’s ever seen. There was this air of indifference about him. Even as Yuji stuttered over introducing his name and shook his hand with sweaty palms. Megumi just stared, expression solemn like a piece of artwork, observing its observers.

Yuji scrunches his eyes shut as a wave of self-induced cringe washes over him. The memories. The horrors. For the entire night, he was glued to Megumi’s side. Standing uncomfortably close and following him around the apartment like a little lost dog. To be clear, Yuji has never been good at playing disinterested. Or playing at anything, really. After seven beers? It’s a marvel he didn’t start begging on hands and knees for Megumi to kick him in the jaw. Instead, he just… never shut up.

The night comes back to him in flashes of horrifying embarrassment that cut to him lore-dropping about the Jackass cast, bragging about how much he can lift, and worst of all: upchucking on Megumi’s custom Converse immediately after claiming to be an elite drinker who has never once done such a thing. Which was a lie. God. He lied so much. Not even about cool things. He told Megumi that they used to call him ‘the shredder’ in middle school because he was a skating prodigy. The closest thing Yuji ever got to skating was denting his ankle with a razor scooter.

“So…” Megumi glances at the car, then looks back to Yuji as his soft voice yanks him right out of his dilemma. “Are you gonna get in?”

“Huh? Me?”

Megumi blinks. Again, Yuji feels an uncomfortable turn in his stomach. He’s not used to feeling embarrassed—He just can’t stop saying stupid things in front of this guy. And trust him, he’s trying.

“I mean, if you want to sit on my lap instead you can just say that,” Megumi sweeps his gaze over Yuji once again, “But you are at least fifty pounds heavier than I am.”

Oh. Duh. Yuji grins sheepishly as he ducks into the backseat without any further questions. As much as he wouldn’t mind sitting on top of Megumi— leaning back against his chest, maybe pretending to fall asleep on his shoulder… it probably wouldn’t be very comfortable for a guy made of such lean muscle. Lean, lean muscle.

Yuji scoots as far in as he can, leaving a sliver of the seat cushion open for Megumi. He ignores how the entire right side of his body is pinned up against cardboard boxes and the odd end of a lacrosse stick. “There’s a little bit of space if you don’t want to sit on my lap.”

Megumi grabs his knee and pulls Yuji back into the center of the seat. As Yuta has a one-sided argument with Inumaki over the music selection, Megumi wordlessly drops himself into Yuji’s lap. He sits a little bit forward, despite the cramped space, keeping the contact minimal. Yuji tells himself that it’s fine. It’s the most dignified way a man could sit on another man’s lap. He reminds himself that Megumi is having a far rougher go of it than he is. Considering how he must find sitting on Yuji’s lap repulsive after their less-than-pleasant meeting the night before.

Yuji’s hands fidget uselessly at his sides. It’s uncomfortable. To be in a position like this where you’re quite literally underneath another person but trying your best to avoid touching them. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. If he wasn’t so scared of making Megumi uncomfortable, then he’d wrap them around his waist and use his lap as an armrest for scrolling on his phone. Instead, his fingers drum against his own leg and all he can do is stare at the back of Megumi’s head.

It is a nice head, by the way. His shirt has a wide neckline, giving a greater hint of how Megumi’s nape flares to the sharp angles of his shoulders. There’s a little freckle just to the side of the top vertebrae of his spine. Yuji stares at it and realizes in the back of his mind, that in some strange mental vault, he’s forever locked away the image of that. Of Megumi’s little freckle. The way his black hair trickles against his neck. The sharpness of his body.

Men really are built differently than girls. Yuji never thought about it that much. But with nothing else to focus on, the realization sinks. Megumi feels so much heavier. More angular. As if his bones are sharper and weighty. He’s big too. Megumi may not have the same muscle mass as Yuji, but he’s built like a man. Unmistakably. The breadth of his shoulders and the subtle creases in the back of his shirt outline his shoulder blades. Yuji’s fingers twitch before he curls one hand into a fist. His eyes follow the lines of Megumi’s shoulder to where he loosely holds the car handle, making his bicep flex ever so subtly. Lean muscle , his mind repeats. He wants to feel it.

They manage nearly half an hour like this. Yuji has never been great with road trips and the whole entertaining yourself factor, but staring at Megumi is surprisingly engaging. Until Megumi turns around and catches him in the act.

“Are—” Megumi starts asking a question before he turns, but once he catches Yuji’s eyes already locked onto his own, he pauses, faltering, before continuing. “Are you comfortable?”

The answer is no. With Megumi sitting his whole grown man self right on the edge of Yuji’s lap, everything below the knee has been numb for at least fifteen minutes. “Yeah, all good here.”

Megumi squints, pausing before speaking as he studies Yuji’s expression. It makes Yuji’s heart panic. More than it already was.

“Are you comfortable?” Yuji asks before Megumi responds, unable to take more silence.

“Yeah. All good.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Both liars.

“It might be better though if I change our position a little,” Megumi suggests after a couple more beats of awkward silence. “Are you okay if I scoot back a little?”

Yuji swallows. He hopes his panic isn’t obvious from how quickly he nods. “Sure, yeah. Of course.”

Megumi lets go of the handle and braces a hand on the door as he lifts himself just slightly, then eases back down to sit right in the center of Yuji’s lap. There’s no sane explanation for how hard it becomes for Yuji not to smile. Megumi slots against him like a puzzle piece that went missing forever ago and now, after weeks of taking up the entire coffee table, you can finally finish the damn thing. Yuji likes the weight of his body. The gentle pressure against his rib cage and the compression of his lungs. Megumi’s shoulder is at the perfect height to rest his chin— if he was a little braver. And he smells… so good.

Yuji doesn’t know how to describe it. He smells mossy somehow. No, that’s not quite right. Like, rained on wood and green plants. Dirt after the storm. A boutique with white and black marble floors that he stumbled into by accident.

“Is that okay?”

Megumi turns his chin just slightly to look at him and Yuji realizes two things. One, how close their faces are. And two, that he failed his attempt to not smile.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He clears his throat, looking towards the front of the car where any view of Inumaki is blocked by a TV screen. His face feels hot. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Megumi leans back further, his weight sinking into Yuji. A heavy heaven. He knocks his head back against Yuji’s shoulder, scrolling on Instagram. “Relax a little. We can switch if you need a break.”

“No, no,” Yuji says all too quickly before clearing his throat. Thank god, Yuta is blasting his god-awful angsty indie up front because he might have to end himself if he was heard being this pathetic. “You’re good. This is a lot more comfortable.”

Megumi tilts his head again, meeting his eye. There’s the slightest curl on the corners of his lips. Yuji watches with the same marvel someone might watch a sunrise over the ocean and a beach of adorable baby turtles before he realizes that Megumi is smiling . “Good.”

Megumi goes back to scrolling through his phone as Yuta starts singing along to Mitski. There are only speakers up front, which Yuuji finds himself grateful for. The yearning in Mitski’s music seems just a little too on the nose right now. Especially as Yuji finally sets his chin on Megumi’s shoulder. It seems all too familiar. All too much like they’ve done this before. Or maybe his imagination is running away from him. For a moment, he admires Megumi’s fingers as they navigate the screen. Then, he turns his head, just a little. Enough so that he’s closer to Megumi’s pulse point. Closer to the base notes of his fragrance. To the amber and smoke, to the salt of his earth gently layered with a mix of herbaceous and sweet.

“Are you smelling me?”

Yuji freezes at the timbre of Megumi’s voice. He speaks so softly, yet it grips him entirely. Like a pair of fluffy handcuffs.

“Um…” He roots around the empty cavern of his head, kicking up rocks and scratching in the dirt for something intelligent to say that doesn’t make him sound like a creep. “Yeah. You smell really good.”

Yuji resists the urge to grab the door handle and throw himself into oncoming traffic.

“Oh. Yeah. I get that a lot.” Megumi goes back to his phone. “It’s Velvet Haze by Byredo .”

Yuji swallows as quietly as he can. He has no idea what that means. “Awesome.”

“It’s a perfume.” Megumi elaborates, turning his head again to silence Yuji with another one of those faint smiles.

“Oh,” Yuji nods, taking another sniff since Megumi doesn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, wow. It’s good. Maybe I’ll get some.”

“It wouldn’t suit you.”

“The hell it wouldn’t—”

Before Yuji can get too offended, Megumi does the unthinkable. Twisting in his lap, he ducks his nose up against Yuji’s neck. For one perfect moment, they melt together. Or maybe it’s just Yuji who is melting and Megumi is perfectly fine. Their chests press together. Megumi’s pretty fingers brace against his shoulder, slightly cooler than his own body. It’s bracing. Exhilarating. Yuji’s lungs are seized in the middle of an exhale, every piece of him frozen as Megumi breathes him in. Then, exhales. His breath is hot. It brushes the side of his neck. Yuji can feel his breath tickling the little hairs at his nape, raising the skin. A shiver kisses down his spine, straight into the center of his stomach.

Megumi pulls back but not far enough. All Yuji can see are narrowed stormy eyes behind a veil of dark lashes. “You smell good too. Except, the old spice…” He grimaces as Yuji realizes how he’s clutching the fabric of Megumi’s shorts in a fist. Quickly, he lets go and splays his hand against the car seat instead. “Doesn’t suit you. It covers up how you actually smell.”

Yuji can barely hear him over the pounding in his ears. His heart threatens to fracture a rib when Megumi leans in again for another slow inhale against his clavicle followed by another exhale that has his dick twitching. He can barely meet Megumi’s eyes when they find him.

“You need something brighter. Citrus.” If Megumi notices what’s going on beneath his ass, he doesn’t give any indication. “You should try Sundazed . If I remember right the top notes are lemon and mandarin with musk for the base. It would complement how your sweat smells.”

“Uh-huh.” Yuji can only stare helplessly into Megumi’s face as he tries to picture anything grotesque enough to keep his dick down. His voice cracks. “I’ll check it out.”

Megumi’s eyes sweep over him once more. And once more Yuji is stripped completely bare. It’s a miracle he doesn’t start crying on the spot and begging Megumi to forgive him for his perversion. Here this guy is, giving him fragrance tips and being cordial despite having every reason to dislike him… and Yuji is fighting off a boner in the battle of his life.

“Cool.”

And with that, Megumi turns back to leaning against his chest, scrolling on his phone. Yuji scrunches his eyes shut in concentration. Naked grandma. Deep sea creatures. Megumi shifts a little on his lap. The way his hands would look on Megumi’s bare waist. NO. Uglier deep sea creatures. Curdled milk. Not Megumi. Not thinking of those pretty eyes. Or the way his t-shirt goes taut around the shoulders and loose by the waist. And definitely, absolutely not thinking about how his ass feels pressing back against his dick.

Megumi shimmies on top of him, just slightly. Yuji scrunches his eyes shut as if in pain. His fist tightens on Megumi’s pant leg once more as his movements wedge Yuji’s dick snugly against the cleft of his ass. It takes almost everything he has not to react. With a sigh, Megumi knocks his head against Yuji’s. As if to use his face as a headrest. Not that Yuji minds. It’s just that there was already a lot going on and now… his heart is racing. Unfortunately, most of that blood is pumping south.

From this angle, it’s very easy to peek at Megumi’s screen. Which Yuji does only out of necessity, of course. A much-needed distraction. He starts on Instagram. Except, his feed is a little different than Yuji’s. Rather than family and friends posting about life experiences and shared moments, Megumi’s is just a lot of skin. Specifically, muscled-up and sweaty gym bros. Occasionally there will be a tatted-up guy with an athletic build and criminally cropped shorts where Megumi will go out of his way to heart.

Yuji almost wants to point out his own physique (and what he thinks are rather tasteful tattoos), but that might look a little desperate. Besides, Megumi is probably only looking for gym-spiration. Yuji’s gone down that hole many times.

Megumi pauses for a moment. His thumb hovers over the search bar.

“What’s your handle?”

Yuji uses what little functioning he has left in his brain to answer. “Um, Jlaw_fan267.”

There’s a pause and Yuji could swear he heard Megumi mutter, ‘Jesus Christ’ before typing that into the search bar and clicking on his account. Again, Yuji’s account is nothing out of the ordinary for a college athlete in his early 20s. A couple of inspirational quotes about staying on your grind, dramatic shots of trendy restaurants, and plenty of post-workout gym pics. Those always do best. It’s almost laughable how quickly Megumi finds the one photo that Yuji had been praying he wouldn’t. Divine punishment for posting a thirst trap in the first place.

It’s a full body shot in the locker-room mirror, in nothing but his 4-inch inseam running shorts and a body-fitted spandex tee whose hem is being bit by his teeth to display his full chest. God, Yuji thought he ate with that. With Megumi looking? He feels like a fucking loser.

It feels like Megumi hovers over the image for an eternity. Judging him. Probably doing his best not to laugh or roll his eyes at how conceited Yuji must be to post something like that. Then just as it seems like he’s going to scroll past, there’s a very distinct sound. Like the quick strumming of a gay guitar. A Grindr notification. Megumi’s thumb jumps to the top of his screen to swipe it away, but there’s nothing there. Yuji immediately knows why.

Slowly, Yuji pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

Nick just tapped you!

Yuji turns his phone off and is immediately met with Megumi’s wide-eyed stare. It’s the most emotion that he’s shown so far. Those blue, blue eyes go round and his mouth pops open into the slightest ‘o’. Pure surprise. Cute. Despite how embarrassed Yuji feels about everything from his thirst trap to the Grindr notification and the ultimate crime of being rock-hard pressed up against a stranger— none of it seems to matter as he marvels at just how cute Megumi is.

“Bold of you to keep the sound on,” Megumi speaks quietly. Even more quietly than usual.

Yuji doesn’t know what to do. He can’t possibly have a chance here. Not with the situation last night. Or Megumi being so out of his league. Or any aspect of anything that’s been happening really.

“Yeah. Um.” Say something witty, Yuji, say something cool. “I don’t know how to turn it off.”

“Mmhm.” Megumi turns back around more quickly than before. Yuji feels sick. He’s made him uncomfortable. Megumi either thinks he’s a creep or an idiot and he’s not sure what’s worst. Probably both.

“Hey guys!” Yuta turns the music way down and calls back to them, completely obscured by stuff. “I’m gonna turn into the rest stop here. Inumaki needs to walk around a little and get a soda. So make sure to use the restroom if you need to. We’re gonna try and make it the rest of the way there.”

Yuji watches over Megumi’s shoulder as he hearts Yuji’s pic and screenshots it. He blinks. Huh? Sure enough, Megumi saves the photo of him nearly naked to his camera roll. Then, as if to fuck with him even further: he adds it to his favorites album. Too stunned to speak, Yuji can only watch with his mouth agape as Megumi slides off his lap and wanders off to the gas station. Yuji stares until he disappears through the swinging glass door and disappears in the colorful aisles.

Up front, Inumaki gets out and starts wandering around the parking lot to leave him with Yuta. There’s the sound of a couple of boxes shuffling as Yuta pushes one aside to wedge his face in the vacant space to look directly into the backseat. Yuji quickly crosses his legs in the most natural way possible.

“How’s it going back here? Not too uncomfortable, I hope.”

Yuji offers a strained smile and a little shake of the head. “All good. Easy drive.”

Yuta winces at that. “Yeah, the road up ahead is gonna be a little more rocky. So, apologies in advance. Hopefully, Megumi’s bony ass doesn’t, y’know, kill your dick.”

Yuji laughs at too high of a pitch.

“By the way, um…” Yuta glances towards the convenience store. “What do you think of him? I worried about you two getting along since you’re so different but after last night—”

“Oh god.” Yuji covers his face with his hands with a long-suffering groan. “Why did you have to bring that up again? I already know. ”

“Oh.” Yuta blinks in surprise. “Usually you’re not that observant. Especially not when you’re absolutely wasted on Bud Light.”

Yuji groans again. “Not helping, dude. I made such an ass out of myself. And turns out Megumi is also gay and I fumbled my chance.”

Yuta stares at him without blinking. When Inumaki gets back in, he pulls back and starts signing something that Yuji can’t see. Yuji frowns at being excluded and turns his attention towards wherever Megumi probably is.

A couple of moments later, Inumaki’s hands jut out from the tiny gap Yuta made beforehand. Immediately he signs, “You’re a dumbass.”

“What the hell?”

“Megumi was staring at you last night. ALL NIGHT.”

“Well, yeah. I was being a dumbass. I lied about people calling me Shredder in middle school. Why the fuck did I think he would even be into that?”

Yuta fails to muffle his laughter completely as Inumaki continues, “ Again: you are a dumbass. Fortunately for you, Megumi is into it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

One of Inumaki’s hands clenches— probably in annoyance rather than an attempt to continue communicating. “ Yuji. He is into you. Like, romantically.”

Yuji blinks. A long, slow blink as his brain struggles to buffer with the new dump of information. Improbable, nigh incomprehensible, and dare he say, fucking awesome information.

“No way.”

“Yes, way.” Yuta chimes in, easily guessing where the conversation has led.

Yuji leans back in his seat. A bewildered grin crawls across his lips. Maybe drunk off his ass on seven beers-Yuji is more charming than he originally gave credit. If Megumi is into him then maybe…

Maybe Megumi didn’t mind sitting on his lap. Or his dick, as it came to happen. Maybe that look of surprise on Megumi’s face was him realizing that Yuji probably liked him too. Which, of course, Yuji does. Yuji does like him quite a lot.

“And like, how sure are you guys?”

“100% sure. Idiot.”

“100% sure, dude!”

Yuji grins again, just as his phone buzzes.

Megumi has just tapped you!

Someone commented on your Instagram post.

Someone has sent you a message!

Yuji feels his heart throbbing in his throat. He opens Instagram. Underneath the picture Megumi screenshotted is a comment posted by someone with Megumi’s face: hot. Yuji bites his lips to keep down a little squeal of girlish excitement. He navigates to the messages, where an unread one from the same account asks:

I just want to clarify before I do anything stupid. You do like me, right?

Yuji thumbs up the message as quickly as his thumbs can move and those little dots appear.

You did not just fucking thumbs-up—

whatever.

Yes or no?

Yuji grimaces as another wave of embarrassment seems to wash over him. He fucked up again.

ye[s

I mean yes

The first one was a typo haha oopsies

I like you

…

What stupid thing are you talking about though

Like in that first message?

…

Megumi?

Yuji needs to develop an unhealthy coping mechanism for all of the distress Megumi is putting him through. Like biting his nails or chain-smoking. Then, after a couple minutes of agony, those dots appear once more.

Maybe you’ll see.

Megumi steps out of the convenience store with a plastic bag in hand. Ah, that must be what took so long. Impromptu shopping. For some reason, Yuji can’t get himself that excited over prospective gas station treats. Mega-sized Reese’s and Mountain Dew Voltage just don’t scratch the same itch in his brain as Megumi. Just Megumi. The fact they like each other—he’s fairly certain— and Yuji has no idea what to do about it.

“Hi.” Yuji pushes open the door as Megumi starts reaching for it. He probably hasn’t blinked since he saw Megumi come out. His eyes kind of burn actually. He just doesn’t want to stop looking at him.

Megumi stares back. His face seems more flushed. As if his cheeks are strawberry flavored. Yuji likes it. He almost seems flustered. “Hi.”

Inumaki shoves his hands into their line of vision and signs with clipped movements. “Can we get going? You took for fucking ever.”

“Cranky,” Megumi mutters as he reclaims his seat on top of Yuji, carefully tucking his bag by his feet.

The engine rumbles beneath them and the music shifts to Inumaki’s favorite genre of Divorced Dad Rock with gravelly vocals and heavy bassline that are perfect for hiding private backseat conversations. This time when Megumi sinks against him, it’s different. There’s still a degree of hesitance. The smallest stutter in Megumi’s body before his back flattens to the front of Yuji’s chest. But when they click back into place Yuji has to hide a grin in his shoulder. It just feels right.

His hand brushes against the outside of Megumi’s thigh, watching in wonder as he ticks his legs open, towards the touch. Yuji seizes that invitation, stomach flipping. His palm cups over the bare skin of his knee. There’s a light scab there as if he scraped it recently.

“What did you do to your knee?” He asks as his fingers brush upwards, thumb tracing the soft skin on top of his thigh.

“Can’t remember. Probably hit it during swim practice.”

Yuji listens to every syllable he speaks as if it were gospel. Though, that comparison doesn’t do Megumi justice. Gospel is sort of boring. He likes the way Megumi talks. He likes it a lot. The muted tone. The careless, almost exasperated edge to his cadence. Yuji has been devouring every word since they met. That’s how he knows Megumi sounds different now. As if he’s trying to make the indifference sound effortless. That’s the key change. Before Megumi was indifferent and now he is trying.

“Climbing out of the pool?” Yuji teases, both in how he speaks and how he squeezes down on Megumi’s thigh.

There’s not as much give as he’s used to. The skin is soft but underneath is muscle. It’s starting to make Yuji woozy. The velvet haze and the glide of his fingertips over his skin. He brushes his nose against the nape of Megumi’s neck and halts when he gives the slightest tremble. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Megumi tightens a fist in his lap. A crucial, load-bearing beam of Yuji’s restraint snaps. One hand gripping Megumi’s thigh and the other his waist as his hips tick up to alleviate the horrible ache in his dick— even if just for a moment.

Megumi almost whines. It comes out as a harsh exhale instead, with just the faintest thread of sound attached. Yuji drops his forehead against the base of his neck, closing his eyes as he tries to claw back a semblance of sanity. Can Megumi feel him? Can he feel how hard he’s made him? How every stutter and shake to his breathing has Yuji’s dick twitching like an obedient dog, just waiting for the signal.

“Yuji—” Megumi sounds a little strained now. “When we get to the frat, we’re gonna have to pick a roommate.”

Yuji struggles to listen to the actual content of his words rather than how pretty his voice sounds. Yuji . Breathless. Almost like a plea. Yuji wants to bite him. It’s a gnawing, snarling need. Instead, he presses a kiss to his spine. He’d like to kiss him everywhere. But, he reminds himself that Yuta and Inumaki are only a box or two away from seeing them, so instead he rubs his face into Megumi’s shoulder blade in an attempt to displace the sudden desire to possess him.

“Are you listening?” Megumi huffs, turning to look at Yuji over his shoulder.

A mistake. The moment their eyes lock, Yuji feels liquid heat moving underneath his skin. Like the crack of a whip, curling heady and raw in the deepest parts of himself. His gaze keeps drifting down to Megumi’s lips. Pink and shining. The perfect shape. A delicate bow to the top lip and just the right amount of plush pout to the bottom. Whatever entity crafted Megumi— phew, let’s just say they spared no expense. They had quite an eye for detail and Yuji makes a vow to find every last one.

“Roommates.” Yuji mumbles, barely comprehensible as his hands squeeze Megumi’s waist. So slim in his hands. It drives him up the fucking wall.

“Yes.” Megumi stares at him sharply. As if expecting something. “Yuji.”

He’s so pretty. It makes Yuji feel giddy. Light-headed. Or maybe the oxygen flow into the car has been cut off by that fucking beanbag and he’s hallucinated this whole thing. Maybe Megumi is just a figment of his imagination. That’s the only explanation. To be this affected by one single person you just met. It’s like Megumi was made to alter the higher functioning of his brain. Which, to be fair, was not functioning that hard to begin with.

Megumi sighs sharply and leans closer to punctuate every next word slowly and deliberately. “Do you want to be my roommate?”

Yuji watches how his lips move around every syllable. “Mmhm.”

“Good.” For a moment, it almost looks like Megumi is about to kiss him. He leans in until his lips brush Yuji’s ear. “Because I want you…” he exhales so softly against the shell of his ear, the slightest tremor to the rush of air. “So fucking bad right now.”

Yuji draws a harsh breath. His heartbeat pounds just under the surface of his skin, right down to where his dick is currently wedged against Megumi’s ass. If Yuji could come from words alone, then he’d be done for. Because that promise? That sleazy, dirty whisper just feet away from their friends? That makes his mind blank and his dick jerks hard where it’s trapped underneath him. The look in Megumi’s eyes darkens. A filthy, starved sort of stare.

“How long?” Yuji asks, voice hoarse against Megumi’s skin.

“An hour—”

Suddenly, the car jerks as they skim a pothole. Megumi bounces right on top of his lap in the most agonizing and delicious form of friction. Yuji hisses as his hand skims up Megumi’s thigh, gripping down on him as he slides their bodies back together. A sharp, desperate grind of the hips up against the curve of his ass.

“ God.” Megumi’s head drops forward, hand coming up to cover his own mouth as he grinds back against Yuji’s lap.

“How am I gonna wait an hour?” Yuji whines under his breath, watching through a lens of haze and static. As if everything in the world has gone fuzzy except for the feeling of another person’s whole weight. The simmering fever of wanting nothing but skin-to-skin.

This time when Megumi looks back at him, Yuji is completely struck—Smitten, as in derivative from smite— an act of divine obliteration. The person he was before is gone and in his place is a new Yuji with a new goal in life. When Megumi meets his gaze, eyes hooded like cloak and dagger, his wet lips parted around soft pants that catch the shafts of light through the tinted car window— that’s when Yuji self-actualizes.

He is going to be the man who fucks Megumi. Or he is going to die trying.

When their eyes first lock, Megumi seems to be in a daze. It’s the first time he’s looked so vulnerable. That mask of indifference has slipped, shifted into something far more honest. Then, sudden clarity as he realizes Yuji’s hunger; hungry with the way he’s being clung to and the way Yuji’s eyes never leave him. An animal of prey stuck in the heavenly beam of headlights; the mouse frozen before the viper’s slit-eyed stare.

“We can’t…” Megumi still sounds breathless. His eyes keep drifting down the front of Yuji’s body, before dragging back up to his eyes through sheer effort of will. “Fuck— I want to touch you… so bad.” He licks his bottom lip and drags his teeth across it as he stares at Yuji, eyes glazing over once again.

Heat licks the very core of Yuji’s stomach and then lower still. They can’t do this here. Not with their seniors sitting a few feet and precariously positioned boxes away. And yet, Yuji keeps toying with the idea. There’s this smoldering ember of kindred depravity in Megumi’s eyes. As if he is thinking the exact same thing.

“What if you just…” Megumi swallows thickly, watching Yuji over his shoulder before his voice lowers. “didn’t put it in?”

“Yeah.” Yuji agrees so quickly. He’s so horny he can hardly think straight. “Okay,” he parrots Megumi, “Just don’t put it in. Easy.”

Megumi’s face remains blank but a distinctly pink hue flushes his skin. Pride swells in Yuji’s chest at being the cause: The reason why Megumi is blushing.

“You wanna feel me that bad?” Yuji grins, unable to stop himself from pushing further. His hand skirts up the inside of Megumi’s shorts, fingertips tracing the velvet skin of his inner thigh.

Megumi rolls his eyes and makes sure that Yuji knows it. Yet, his face seems even pinker. And the tendon in his thigh trembles. “So what if I do?”

Yuji presses his smile against his shoulder to suppress an embarrassingly giddy laugh. “Well, then I’d say thank you kindly, m’lord. I live to serve.”

The look of desire on Megumi’s face falters for a moment, shifting through confusion and then acute disgust at how Yuji can say the dumbest things as easily as breathing. There’s an exasperated huff of breath, a sound of defeat, then he scans Yuji’s face once more before ultimately deciding that somehow, still, he wants him.

“Please,” Megumi begs, “Shut up.”

Yuji just grins as he slides his hands down his waist.

Anticipating Yuji’s movement, Megumi pitches his hips forward to allow him to push the hem of his pants down just enough. It’s such an absurd thing. If someone had told Yuji this morning that he would be riding in the backseat of Yuta’s Subaru with his dick out and wedged against another man’s ass he would have probably checked them into an institution. But there’s just something about Megumi that derails every rational thought. The hard, masculine lines and the weight of his body. Sweat and faded cologne. He’s never held another man like this before and to be completely honest, Yuji hopes to never hold anyone else like this ever again.

Except Megumi. Obviously. Just needed to make that abundantly clear.

Yuji’s forehead drops to rest against the top of Megumi’s spine with a low groan. He squeezes the base of his own dick with one fist and traces the tip over the crack of Megumi’s perfect ass. Precum leaves a shiny trail across his pale skin. In Yuji’s palm, he can feel his own heart beating through his dick. Every breath sounds so loud. Every shaky exhale deafening against the ABBA blasting through the speakers. It’s so stupid. He is being so stupid. Yet, as he sinks the tip of his cock into the tight, hot cleft of Megumi’s ass, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

He bites the inside of his mouth. Hard. Yet still a low groan hums in his throat. Megumi covers his own mouth to muffle a sound that Yuji would give pretty much anything to hear at full volume. Somehow it feels dirtier than actual sex. That precipice right before. That wonderful, delicious edge. To know that he’s got Megumi wound up to the borderline of fucking right next to their friends. It’s rude. Inconsiderate of them, honestly. It has Yuji’s thighs clenching in an attempt not to cum from the visual alone.

Then, Megumi clutches one of his knees for balance as he gives a tentative roll of the hips. Yuji’s breath catches loudly. A gasp drawn from the friction of sliding his pulsing dick through the most perfect ass he’s ever known. There’s a bump in the road. It rocks them together violently, forcing the tip of Yuji’s dick to hit hard into his perineum.

Megumi’s yelp tapers off into a whimper just as the music is dimmed to a quiet beat in the background. His head bows forward, back snapping into an instinctual arch before he clamors to regain control of himself.

Yuji’s hands snap to Megumi’s hips, holding him completely still. His dick remains firmly wedged between the other boy’s ass, throbbing there against the tight ring of his wet hole. It makes him salivate. Wait… Wet? Why is he wet?

“You guys doing okay back there?” Yuta calls back with sweet concern in his voice. Yuji feels a very irrational annoyance at the sound. To be so bluntly interrupted while his brain wracks for explanations and at the same time being so enraptured by Megumi’s reactions that it’s hard to give a shit.

“Yeah. Totally good.” Yuji didn’t expect his voice to sound so strained.

Megumi clears his throat and continues for him as if he sounds any less wrecked. “So good.”

There’s another pothole that jostles the entire cabin. The slide of Yuji’s dick is smoother now, lubricated by the wetness at Megumi’s center. Through some miracle, neither of them moans out loud. However, one of Megumi’s hands snaps to where Yuji holds his waist, clutching his fingers for support.

“Alright, well, hang in there guys. This road is kind of shit. Our tax dollars at work, amirite?” Yuta chuckles to himself. “Should be about half an hour now. "

“Awesome,” Yuji answers tightly, staring at where Megumi’s fingertips dig hard into his knee as he rocks back against himself without the excuse of a pothole. No, Megumi grinds back against his dick without even realizing that Yuji is trying to speak. As if he’s just that desperate for it. “Um. Could you turn the music way up? I love ABBA. Like so, so loud.”

Yuta laughs and happily obliges. “Say less, my man. Voulez Vous is my fucking anthem.”

The moment the cover of music and pounding bass returns, Yuji grinds his hips up into Megumi. There’s the prettiest noise barely audible under his breath. A delicate whimper as Yuji guides him by the waist through a slow drag against his lap. Every time, he can feel the way Megumi tenses. The twitching of his movements as he fights for some shred of control despite how eagerly he pushes back for more. Yuji finds himself addicted. His gaze burns through the boy’s skin, catching little glimpses of Megumi’s face that do nothing but feed this gnawing need in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a brutal catch in the road. Yuji holds him tight around the middle to keep Megumi from pitching forward into the back of the driver’s seat. Then, as Megumi sinks back against him, the tip of Yuji’s dick bumps right into the tight ring of his ass. It’s slick and hot. Megumi whines somewhere in the column of his throat.

Suddenly, it clicks. Yuji shifts his hips and pulls his dick out so it lays obscenely against the small of Megumi’s back. At its absence, Megumi turns to look over his shoulder, already scowling when Yuji’s hand sneaks down to replace it. His pretty lips part to form a question when Yuji’s middle finger circles around the slick heat of his hole before pushing in.

Anything Megumi was about to say is lost and in its place is the sexiest, “ fuck—” That Yuji has ever heard.

The slide is easy. Despite the awkward angle, he pushes down to his bottom knuckle. Just as he thought. Megumi has already prepped himself. There’s an egregious amount of lube. His finger strokes in and out, slow and gentle, before crooking just slightly, scraping along his inner walls as he drags back out. Megumi jerks and clutches at him. One hand on his thigh and the other grabbing his wrist, holding his arm still. All those pretty muscles he’s been admiring go taut. Yuji crooks his finger again, just watching as Megumi twitches. His head falls forward, dark hair obscuring his face but for his pink lips parted around ragged breaths.

Hot. So fucking hot. Yuji leans forward just slightly as he pushes a second finger into his greedy hole. It feels like being swallowed. Fuck, he can only imagine how good Megumi would feel wrapped around him just like this.

“Is this what took you so long at the gas station?” Yuji whispers against his ear, grinning when he feels Megumi’s body shiver. “Were you hoping this might happen?”

There’s a flutter in his stomach as Megumi turns his face away, clearly embarrassed. Oh, how badly Yuji wishes they were alone. He would have Megumi spread beneath him, confessing to every perverted detail. It feels like the horniest, most self-indulgent dream come true. After spending every moment since he first saw Megumi swallowing the image of him whole and craving him like a starved man… to know that Megumi went to these lengths out of a shared (and arguably more insane) desire is enough to lay a thick sense of satisfaction over his skin, like a coat of paint.

Yuji wants him so badly it feels like an injury. Like being so hungry that all you can do is ache and ache and ache .

A third finger eases into Megumi with the slightest squeeze of resistance. Megumi’s jaw goes slack as his hips rock back into the palm of his hand. Yuji’s dick twitches against his skin, painting the back of Megumi’s box-cut tee with a constant drool of precum. As Yuji’s fingers angle towards Megumi’s prostrate, he can feel his body tensing just before a noise starts leaking from his parted lips. In a panic, Yuji yanks his hand back and muffles his moan with lube-slicked fingers. He cuts it off quickly, but they both freeze in immediate terror at the prospect of being heard.

All Yuji can hear is his heartbeat thudding in his skull and the short, huffed exhales through Megumi’s nose fanning against his hand. Then, Yuta shouts the next line in the chorus of G imme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) and their bodies slump back against each other in relief.

They should stop. There’s a tiny singular rational thought that worms through the back trenches of Yuji’s mind. They’re less than half an hour away. They would only have to play it cool for a little while as they move all their stuff inside and then make a half-assed excuse about being tired and then boom, they’re fucking for hours on his awesome new bean bag. An hour tops. Then an eternity of fucking Megumi like no tomorrow without scarring their frat brothers in the process.

Then, Megumi looks back at him. Through the wispy veil of dark bangs, his eyes freeze Yuji still. They glisten, shiny with desperation. His skin is pink like a peony with the petals spread open wide. Gone is the aloof, unreadable stranger that Yuji was so desperate to impress. His hand still covers Megumi’s mouth and at the realization, Yuji starts to pull off, only to thumb at his bottom lip. Obediently, Megumi parts his mouth, teeth tenderly biting the very tip of his thumb. So pliant. So eager. For the first time, there’s no mask and no veil of indifference, Yuji can finally see him.

“Please,” he says.

Megumi almost looks like he could cry. There’s a fog in his gaze. Clouded with want so thick and heavy that Yuji feels like they’re both drowning in it. His other hand slides back between their bodies, fist wrapping around his dick.

“Tell me what exactly you want.”

Megumi’s face pinches, blinking away tears of frustration. He buries into Yuji’s shoulder, muffling the pleading in his voice. “Dammit, Yuji, please.” His cock jerks in his hand at the way he says it. “Please, please, don’t make me beg.” Then, his voice goes quiet but shaky with wanting. “ please, just fucking put it in.”

Yuji wonders whether he will ever be able to deny Megumi anything for the rest of their lives.

He swallows hard. “But I don’t have a condom.”

Megumi peeks his head up, scowling momentarily at the suggestion. Or maybe just because he’s not getting what he wants. Then, he seems to remember something and digs through the plastic bag at his feet. Next thing he knows there’s a Trojan Supra pressed into the palm of his hand and Yuji doesn’t hesitate for a single second before tearing it open and clumsily sliding it on. There’s a part of him that’s sort of impressed Megumi could tell what size he needed from simply sitting on his lap.

In one swift stroke, he guides his dick through the tight mess he’s made of Megumi’s ass, slick with lube and copious amounts of precum. The fat head of his cock bumps against Megumi’s hole. Megumi shivers above him. Then, slowly guiding his hips down, he begins to open just for Yuji.

“Fuck—” Yuji hisses and replaces his palm over Megumi’s mouth.

Every inch is sweet, scorching bliss. Yuji drops his forehead against Megumi’s nape and inhales his skin as he’s slowly enveloped in tight, wet heat. He’s barely halfway in when there’s a slight catch of resistance. Megumi grabs onto his arm, fingers clutching down as if to bear through it. A little whine catches in his throat.

“Megumi—” Yuji pants, lifting his hips just slightly so that Megumi can’t take any more of him without adjusting first. “You’re too tight. Don’t wanna. Hurt you.”

Megumi shakes his head, a noise of protest muffling into his palm. His hips roll, trying to overpower Yuji’s grip so that he can keep taking him. It’s stunning. Both beautiful and shocking how wanton Megumi is. How desperate. Yuji has never experienced anything like it. As if Megumi is wholly consumed by the need to be stuffed completely and utterly full. Like, if Yuji doesn’t fuck him this very second he may very well die.

Yuji starts reaching forward for that bag, hoping there’s some more lube rolling around. Then, the car hits a bump. Every single item around them seems to jump, jostling with a concerning thud. And then, Megumi is dropped right onto his lap. In a single split second, their skin slaps together with a harsh smack and Yuji finds himself completely and fully taken.

Megumi’s back arches forward and Yuji has to smother him hard just to stop a violent keen from slipping between his fingers. In a desperate scramble, he clutches Yuji’s arms, nails digging into his skin. His hips squirm in Yuji’s lap, twitching away and towards the all-consuming fullness all at once. Little noises leak from the corners of the hand that muffles him, desperate and precious sounds. All Yuji can feel is the pulsing heat that squeezes his cock like a death vice. The only thing stopping him from coming on the spot is the fear he must have hurt Megumi.

“Shh, shh,” Yuji hushes in a spoken whisper against his ear, petting his hand down Megumi’s chest as his every exhale comes as a whine. So fucking vocal. A blessing and a curse. “You took that so good. So fucking good. Are you okay?”

In answer, Megumi plasters himself to Yuji’s chest, head knocking back to rest on his shoulder. Cautiously, Yuji uncovers his mouth only to find the most blissed-out smile curled around a bitten lip. His eyes are hazy and unfocused. Megumi holds his stare with fluttering eyes that look prone to roll up in contentment at any second.

“Hurts so good, Yuji.” His voice is a purr that teeters into a liquid whimpering as his hips start slowly rocking back against him. “Need you— need you to hit me right there. I’m so close.”

Megumi arches against him. A sight that will forever scar his wet dreams. As if Megumi is trying to do all the work himself. His body bends and writhes back against him, as Megumi’s arms reach up and behind him. Fingers tangle in his hair, scratching the short buzz of his undercut while his other hand cups the side of Yuji’s neck. Desperate to touch him. To have Yuji underneath his fingertips, in the palms of his hands, and buried so deep it aches. Yuji bites the inside of his mouth until the tang of copper hits his tongue. Please , he begs whatever perverted entity may be listening, let me last just a couple seconds longer.

“I’m almost there too,” Yuji warns, one hand gripping Megumi’s waist as the other slides back over his mouth. “We have to be quiet, okay? Are you gonna be good and quiet for me?”

“Mmhm,” Megumi whimpers, nodding against him as his body squirms, restless and coiled tight as a wire.

Yuji plants his feet square on the floor of the car cabin, bracing. Music vibrates through their bodies, thrumming with bass that devours the sound of their skin and the obscenely slick sound of his dick sliding out of Megumi until only the very tip remains. The sight is breathtaking. The way Megumi’s back arcs forward. The stark contrast of his angry dick pulsing against the pale perfection of Megumi’s ass.

Pursuing a formal education at the same college as Megumi may just been the best decision he’s ever made in his life. Seconded only by the act of actually fucking him, of course.

He slams up into Megumi as if he’s got a grudge. A brutal, snapping quirk of his hips that’s pulled back just as violently. The pace Yuji sets is at breakneck speeds but sloppy with desperation and the unpredictable bumps of the road. He clutches Megumi’s body to him as tightly as he can. Holding him in a vice as his hips spasm up into him like a jackhammer with a fucking job to do. In his arms, he can feel every way Megumi twists and twitches against him. All the pretty noises smothered by his hand.

When Megumi comes, he doesn’t see it so much as feels it. The world narrows down to nothing but the impossible tightness that chokes Yuji’s dick with blinding waves of pleasure that course like lightning up and down his spine. He pants hard against Megumi’s fully exposed neck, mauling him with wet, toothy kisses interrupted only by his own quiet huffs and whines. Megumi draws up against him, taut and rigid through every single muscle.

One foot jerks out and accidentally kicks the back of Yuta’s seat, cueing a ‘ watch it back there!’ as Megumi comes completely apart on his cock. In the aftershocks, his body wracks with a twitch, then another. He shivers from over-sensitivity with each brush of Yuji’s dick against his prostate. Every time, he clenches down on Yuji so tightly, his vision goes dark.

With all semblances of rhythm completely lost to the world, Yuji keeps humping into him like a man possessed by a single purpose. He’s so close. Every single throb of his cock feels like it pushes the edge. Just a razor’s blade from ecstasy. The hand on Megumi’s waist snakes around to his belly, sinking until he can palm at his dick through his shorts. The sound Megumi makes is incredible. A hoarse, jagged whimper. His thighs press together tight, too oversensitive to be touched but Yuji squeezes down anyway. It makes Yuji throb and throb.

Clumsily, desperately, he gropes at Megumi through the fabric of his pants. Against the hand smothering his mouth, Megumi shakes his head and makes more deliciously fucked-out noises. So past the edge that it hurts. His hips jerk back to get away from the new sensations against his dick, but that only sinks him further against Yuji’s length. It jams back against the most sensitive spot inside him, sending Megumi into another spin of overstimulated trembles. His thighs clench hard, muscles spasming as his toes curl. The hand in Yuji’s hair goes so tight it scalds him with pain, pulling at the roots.

Yuji continues fucking him. He chases that feeling like it’ll be the last thing he ever does. The high. That precipice of perfect all-consuming pleasure. Tears gather at the seam where Yuji’s hand grips Megumi’s face. All his pretty noises make every hot and heady feeling in the pit of his stomach coil tight. Tighter and tighter. His skin burns, flushed with heat. Hot, tight, perfectly wet. Perfect just for him. Yuji’s hips stutter with a jagged thrust upwards as he buries himself impossibly deep and comes as his teeth sink into Megumi’s hickeyed-up shoulder.

They stay like that, buried in each other and panting. Sometimes the car jostles over another pothole and sends a pang of sensitivity ricocheting through their bodies. It almost feels like they’ve melded together. Megumi certainly acts like it. He’s slumped back against Yuji, head tipped up toward the ceiling, with his uncovered mouth now parted around heavy pants. His eyes are closed and rimmed with red, a couple of tears still clinging to his eyelashes and tracing trails down his bright flushed cheeks. Freshly fucked out looks good on him. Very fucking good.

Yuji presses a shaky but apologetic kiss to the purple imprint of teeth now dented into his shoulder. Oops. Maybe he got a little carried away. While Megumi seems content to keep his eyes shut and dabble in the idea of passing out, Yuji can only keep staring.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling that takes hold of him. Normally after jerking off to porn— the gay kind— he feels kind of disgusted with himself. Sort of like, what kind of insane shit was I just watching? This feels like the complete opposite. Fuzzy, blurry, fondness that floods him with warmth. Worlds away from shame. An ocean apart from regret.

Yuji stares at Megumi with a twisting, fluttery, nausea-inducing adoration that leaves his heart sick. As his breathing evens out, he stares and stares at Megumi’s profile. With tender care, he pulls his softening dick out and ties off the condom. Discreetly, he tosses it into the plastic bag and returns his attention to Megumi only to find one blue eye cracked open to squint back at him.

His face shines like a jewel under a sheen of sweat, still flushed and breathing softly, but now there’s a hardened veil that has come down over his pretty features. Yuji swallows audibly. It’s like Megumi has switched back into his normal self; the one who makes Yuji’s palms sweaty with nerves.

“Hm.” Megumi’s fingers graze along his jaw, as he pulls his touch from Yuji to experimentally tap a love bite on his neck. “Jesus Christ. Are you teething or something?”

Yuji frowns sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Give me your hoodie.”

Yuji obliges and watches as Megumi pulls it over his head. Then, as much as he knows it’s necessary, he watches with dismay as Megumi pulls his shorts back up and attempts to make himself decent. His hands press into the seat, loose and useless fists at his sides which he’s no longer sure are allowed to touch Megumi.

Megumi sighs, though if it’s in contentment or frustration, Yuji has no clue. He flattens himself back against Yuji’s chest and knocks his head against his jaw. Affectionately, like a cat.

“That was pretty good.”

“Really?” Yuji tries to keep his voice normal. Even. Stoic and collected. In reality, it pitches to the top of his vocal range like a child who just got told they’re going to Disneyland.

Megumi tilts his head back to look at him. Pure, cool, unadulterated nonchalance. Then, the facade is ruined just for a moment as Megumi’s lips curl at the very corners.

“Mmhm.” Megumi takes a moment to stare at him before his gaze shifts away quickly. “Guess I’ll keep you around.”

Yuji barely keeps himself from shouting ‘ awesome!’ and pumping his fist into the air. Instead, he just grins like an idiot and fastens his arms back around Megumi snug and tight. His skin still tingles from it all. He’s stuck somewhere in limbo between the desire to fall asleep and hyped up on the adrenaline of having Megumi on top of him.

The music up front lowers once again for Yuta to announce their arrival. The car slows to a stop.

Megumi starts to sit up but Yuji grabs his waist. When a single arched eyebrow is thrown back at him, Yuji only responds with a sheepish half-smile.

“It’s kind of funny…” he whispers under his breath words hidden under the one-sided conversation Yuta is having with Inumaki up front. “That we sort of banged in public before even kissing once.”

Megumi blinks at him. His unimpressed stare somehow morphs into something even more judgmental. It makes Yuji want to push him out the car door so his constant stream of idiocy dies with him. Then, Megumi twists his body around and presses a light kiss to his lips.

It’s sweet. Chaste and gentle. Yuji’s eyes flutter close and he leans in and keeps leaning even after Megumi pulls back.

“Ohoho!” Yuta exclaims and they both whip their heads around to find both seniors peeking at them through a gap in the boxes. “Looks like you two are getting along!”

“That was fucking fast,” Inumaki quips, “Megumi must have been scared Yuji was gonna get snatched up before he got the chance.”

They both giggle and snicker up front as Megumi rolls his eyes. He pops the car door open and breaks from Yuji’s hold without wasting a single second. It makes Yuji’s heart sink. He didn’t mind kissing with an audience. It feels very mild after the… experience they just shared.

Then, Megumi looks back at him and his heart inflates just like that. “Bring my bags to our room. I’m gonna take a shower. So don’t pick a shitty one.”

Yuji can only nod obediently and watch as Megumi strides towards the big building marking the shared fraternity. He fights a smile as he gets out and starts yanking all their stuff from the tight wedge of junk that is Yuta’s Subaru.

The seniors get out and make little kissy noises like they have any room to talk. Inumaki pecks Yuta’s cheek before trailing inside with their suitcases and the promise to order some dinner. Yuta sighs wistfully after him, then slings his arm over Yuji’s shoulders.

“Hey, once we’re done moving our stuff in you’re going to detail my entire car.” Yuta leans in, tone light and friendly, but his hand clenches down on his shoulder so tight it’s painful. “And if you ever do shit like that again in my Subaru, I will fucking end you.”

Yuji feels his face burn. He can only give a stiff nod before that hand pats his back a little too hard. “Good man.”

As Yuji starts unloading the car, embarrassment floods his bloodstream. Just how did Yuta know? Did he hear them? Oh god— did he smell them? He wonders how he ever let Megumi convince him to do that. Yuji usually so considerate. Mindful of boundaries. He always puts a sock on the door and texts his roommates when he’s got a girl over. Yet Megumi had him twisted so around his finger so tightly, they were fucking within an hour of realizing they both were gay. How? How does that happen? In what world is Yuji so weak that one car ride has his morals jumping out onto the interstate to be hit by a reckless driver at 90 mph? How did Megumi—

The thought trails as Yuji opens the door to the room where he’s been dropping all their things. Speak of the devil, lounging on the unmade mattress spread out on the floor. He scrolls through his phone lazily, in nothing but boxers and Yuji’s hoodie. Even among a mess of boxes and ugly white-washed walls, Megumi looks like a deity who has descended from the clouds, awaiting his humble servant to peel the skins off his grapes and feed him by hand. Yuji swallows hard, unblinking. Sensing the eyes on him, Megumi slowly lifts his gaze to meet Yuji’s from across the room.

It’s like there’s a charge in the air. As if the strike of a single match could bring this place down in a glorious pillar of flame. Then, Megumi smiles. It’s such a tiny thing. A delicate gesture that barely touches the corners of his eyes. But it makes Yuji’s entire stomach flip upside down.

“Are you done unloading the car?”

Yuji clicks the door shut and turns the lock.

“I can be.”

Megumi’s smile broadens and Yuji drops his box without thinking twice. He tackles Megumi against the bare twin mattress and cuts his laugh off with an onslaught of quick pecks and noisy smooches. After all, it’s as good time as any to make up for all the missed kisses from the first of many rides to come.