Archive of Our Own

Fushiguro Megumi was four months away from graduating. 

He spent four years and thousands (so many thousands) of dollars for a degree that would just lead him straight into more school. And here he was, age twenty-two, paying for the mistake of avoiding one, singular, required economics course. Not only that, his schedule was so fucked that it was seven PM on a Thursday, and he was in the dark parking lot of the library in some frat bro’s sedan. 

Itadori Yuuji was a health-exercise-whatever major in a similar predicament: avoidance, and the forthcoming cost of it. He was tan, muscular, charming, gentle, sweet, and—to Megumi’s intense chagrin—hot as fuck. He had a messy pink dye-job that had already faded to a subtle peach in the three weeks since his last dye, and a smile that made him swoon.

And, of course, Megumi didn’t remember the day he re-dyed his hair; it was just conveniently the day before they got assigned a group project, and the blazing pink head of hair turned around to smile at him. And, of course, it wasn’t because Megumi chose to sit behind him in every lecture because he liked watching the way he shifted in agonized boredom. He spun his pens, bounced his legs, let out cute little huffs in confusion, and only rarely pulled out his phone to put it on do not disturb mode.

Their project went surprisingly well. Only after hours upon hours of sitting in the library, hunched over their laptops until the staff put the fluorescent lights out. It became glaringly obvious during the first meetup that neither of them had been paying attention since the start of the semester.

What also became glaringly obvious? That Itadori Yuuji had it bad for him. 

Megumi wasn’t stupid—he knew he was attractive, at the very least. He was hot in that broody, pierced, emo-adjacent way that made all but the most confident uneasy. He took care of himself, understood how to style himself in the it-looks-effortless way, and had a specific, half-lidded way of looking at “straight” men that shattered the closet in seconds. 

Now, in the passenger seat of his almost messy car, he gave him that same stare, his lashes long and indifferent. They were chatting about something inane, Yuuji complaining about their professor, when he let the air go silent. 

“Yuuji?” He spoke in the low, submissive voice that he always used on men like him. 

Noticeably flushing even in the dark, he choked out, “Ye- yeah?”

Precious, Megumi thought, a small smile beating his indifference. “Are you straight?”

The matter-of-fact tone clearly threw him off, and he flinched back, spitting out a quick, knee-jerk defense: “What!? I'm- yeah, I’m straight.” He coughed, and Megumi had to suppress a full, chesty guffaw. 

“No, you're not.” 

Embarrassed and guarded, Yuuji kept fumbling, “Huh? I’m- I- uh, I promise you, I’m definitely straight.”

This time, Megumi laughed, rolled his eyes so far back it hurt, “Then, why’ve you been staring at me like you wanna’ eat me alive for the past three weeks?” 

His cute, boyish face was full of such immense shock; it turned him on far too quickly. “What? I totally- I totally haven’t.” The distress, the rising pitch of his voice, and the burning heat on the apples of his cheeks didn’t help his case. “I look at you like- like a normal dude. Like- a guy looking at his economics group p- partner…”

Deadpan, Megumi sighed, sick of his failed attempts at deflecting, “Yuuji,” he leaned in, watching how his group mate's breath hitched. “Are we gonna’ fuck around, or not?”

Only for a second longer, Yuuji looked apprehensive, and Megumi saw the moment the gears clicked into place. Another one down, he praised himself as the other man’s head fell. Sulking, he looked impossibly cute, and he quickly had to shove down the pang of fondness that struck his chest. 

“Ye- yeah,” he refused eye contact. “Get in the back…”

They did, and Yuuji was still hesitant—which, for once, didn’t irritate the crap out of him. Guilt was plastered all over his face, which was never rare in these encounters, but seeing it on him was… melancholic.

Grabbing the back of his hand, indulging in the dreams of his flexed tendons and muscles, his voice went soft. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to. I can go—”

“No, don’t…” he took a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes. Their bodies seemed magnetized, both instinctively leaning in, craving each other. He laughed, eyes flickering down to his lips, “I've thought about this too many times not to fuck you.”

With that, Yuuji was all over him. 

Lips on his, he could hardly register the action, stunned by his urgency. There was a ferocity, a need that made Megumi completely stupid, forgetting what he was supposed to do with himself. All he could do was let him ease open his mouth and press their tongues together, complicit in whatever parts of him Yuuji wanted to take. 

It was passion—that’s what it was—that had him so willingly surrendering his mind to this. It was pathetic, because how could two people give and receive so much passion in the backseat of a shitty sedan? Megumi tried to reassert himself, gain back some of the power he held in this encounter, but it was almost futile. They weren’t even past first base, and he was already whining into his mouth, biting his lip, and letting their teeth clack because he didn’t care how messy any of this was. It was Yuuji. 

His lips tasted like raspberries; his tongue: citrus, taurine tangerine. A hint of sweet summer in the dead of winter, a saccharine solstice meanwhile snow gathered on the asphalt outside. Megumi could almost feel the nectarine juice, sticky against their chins and holding them together.

At some point, he ended up on his back, and their pace slowed, turning into something more romantic than heated. Just when he was about to start panicking, his partner (for his economics project, of course,) started kissing down his jaw, trailing along his neck where breath tickled his skin. Megumi sighed when he licked up the column of his throat, slowly, lingering to leave a hickey just beneath his adam’s apple.

Yuuji’s enthusiasm was infectious; a monsoon of emotion that swallowed the entire car whole, until the desire in the air was so thick and humid they couldn’t breathe. Gladly, he let his shirt be shucked off, a little unnerved when the other man stared down at him for a moment, palm resting on his stomach.

Breathy, he seemed windswept. “You- uh, you… damn—” he huffed, squeezing his hip, “You’re gorgeous.” 

That made Megumi’s chest hurt. “I know.” He’d been told that many, many times, but coming from him, it felt different. It reminded him of all the times he caught Yuuji staring, the gentle smile before he flinched away. There was something so soft about him—but he was in a fucking fraternity, and ran with that crowd. He had to remind himself of that. 

“As you should.” He sat back, hunched down to pull off his own shirt, the movement somehow still graceful despite him punching the roof in the process. “I’ll still remind you, for the hell of it.” 

As kind as that was, he couldn't possibly focus on himself when he was looking at the man in front of him. Yuuji was absolutely shredded, and he shouldn’t have been surprised. He coughed, choking on spit as it flooded his mouth, eyes flitting down to the trail of hair sneaking up his defined stomach. 

Worse? Roman numerals tattooed over his right ribs, and a thick, black band that wrapped his upper arm. Tattoos reserved for a private audience, a pleasant surprise, and another thing that made him irresistible. 

Even worse? A golden bar through his left nipple, pinching the pretty, rosy nub between two glinting balls. It looked perfect on him—perfectly offset his tattoos, perfectly matched his skin tone, perfectly matched his confidence. If Megumi thought he was panicking before, he was bound to go into cardiac arrest soon. 

All Megumi could reasonably do was stare. 

“Enjoying the view?” Yuuji grinned, squeezing his hip and rubbing along his stomach, close to his navel piercing. 

Still unable to look away, he gritted out, “You’re alright.” Neither of them were doing anything, just taking each other in, and it wasn't weird until they met eyes. The look he gave was unrecognizable, and it made Megumi’s stomach turn into a weird, warm mush. 

It’d been a while since he’d slept with someone—did guys always look at him like that? 

Brushing off that he knew the answer to that, he sighed, impatient, “So, you gonna' do anything? Or, just stare at me?”

Startled by the interruption, he jolted, eyes wide, before leaning back down. “Can I not admire you? You’re hot as fuck, God forbid.” And Megumi smiled despite himself, before it was snatched by a quick zephyr of a kiss.

His head dipped lower, licking, kissing, biting, his hands shifty and restless. Eager teeth caressed his skin with reckless abandon; gentle, loving, para-painful. Collarbones, sternum, chest, shoulders, ribs, stomach, hips—all cherished, adored by his chapstick.

Where did he get off doing that? Megumi wouldn’t do anything to stop it. Watching that peach head of hair inch down his torso, the blooming verbena violet bruises he left made his head spin. Hand threaded through his soft hair, he wanted to burn the moment into his vision. He laughed and scrunched in on himself when his (project) partner licked up his stomach, knees framing his pretty, puppylike face.

Even with his teeth on his hips, he didn’t expect Yuuji to want to give. And, because he hated himself and constantly pursued “straight” guys, he very rarely expected anything from them. It was always just a setup for failure.

“Can I?” 

Face scrunched, he tugged at the pink hair between his fingers unconsciously, “What?” Even if he knew what the question entailed, he couldn't wrap his head around it in time. 

Confused, Yuuji grinned tentatively, “Uh, y’know…?” He tugged at his waistband. “Suck you off, give you head, whatever you call it.”

Playing it off as having been lost in his thoughts, he tried to keep his voice easy, unaffected. “Uh, yeah.” He was about to reach and unbutton his jeans, but Yuuji was already halfway done. Smiling, ashamed at how endearing his impatience was, Megumi scratched his head, “Whoa, easy, tiger…”

He missed the little eye roll accompanying his chuckle as his head dipped, tugging off his jeans. “What?” His voice was shy, pitchy, “Can I not be excited?” 

“Damn,” he started, trying to distract himself from Yuuji’s head between his legs, biting the inside of his thigh and making his stomach clench. “You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?” 

Humming into his leg, a little more of a whine, he sunk his teeth in. The pain rushed straight to his dick, making his hips twitch the smallest bit. “Way too much, Megumi. Like, way too much.” He left marks all along the sensitive flesh, teasing and attentive. Ushering up one side of his briefs, he sucked on the highest, soft curve of his thigh before his groin began.

Unable to restrain himself, Megumi moaned, covering his mouth to try and hide it. The way he moved his tongue, smoothed over the new bruise, and inhaled the scent of his skin was too much. Every touch cauterized an existing wound, making him forget that anyone else had ever touched him. 

Yuuji tugged his briefs off slowly, and he watched his expression as his cock popped free. It was always the moment of truth, seeing how “straight” men reacted when they saw him. And, to his unsurprised delight, Yuuji was pointedly not straight.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, burying his face into his thigh, biting his apricot skin like he was starving, craving his sweetness. A small growl rumbled from his throat, and his teeth sunk even deeper, either frustrated or beyond himself. Maybe both. “That shouldn’t be allowed…”

Suddenly defensive, he tutted, “What, a dick piercing?” He scoffed, soft enough to not sound offended, “So, you’re a prude, ar—”

“How fucking hot you are.” Yuuji interrupted, smoothing over his temper with a succinct, undeterred voice. He pulled back, helped Megumi lean himself against the door, and ran his finger along the little bunny tattooed on his hip, “God, I don’t know why I tried to lie, I’m so fuckin’ into you, there's no way I’m straight.” 

Head resting on the divot beneath the window, he raised a brow, “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Oh, hell nah,” he grabbed his leg, kissed up his shin, marking the inside of his knee quickly, “I’ve wanted to fuck a man since I, uh, knew about gay sex. And, I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw your cute ass walk into class.” 

Normally, men didn’t share about themselves when they slept with him—it was usually just business. Maybe Yuuji could be different. “Have you ever slept with a guy?” He had just assumed the answer, but asking couldn’t hurt.

“Uh, no, I- uh, haven't…” he reached for him, gently grabbing his cock and pressing his thumb into his head, spreading precum across his tip. Megumi let out a hum of relief. Teasing him with rough, slow circles of his thumb, he rambled, “And, uh, if that’s a turn off or you don’t wanna d-”

Already a bit of a mess, his hand was incessant, driving him crazy. “Yuuji- Yuuji, just shut up.” Breathless, gritting his teeth, he ordered, “Put your pretty mouth where the money is.”

Flushed, he startled, a dopey smile crossing his face. “Yes, sir,” he chuckled while leaning down.

Fingers back in his soft hair, he tugged just before he could latch to him. “Oh—if I feel teeth, you’re done.” 

He just nodded, resisting his pull and licking his tip, right where his piercing peeked from his skin. Megumi shivered, taking a clipped breath when he took him in, the warmth making the rest of his skin freeze over. He had forgotten the beauty of receiving, and watching Yuuji give was the best way to remember.

Yes, he was inexperienced, and yes he was a little messy—but his eyelashes fluttered as he slipped further down, and he looked so determined... Even in the shadows he could see the campfire glow of his dark irises. His mouth was torturous, focusing on his tip and barely letting up, spit gathering and dripping down his shaft. All Megumi had to do was focus on his breathing, try not to crack and let every ounce of his soul leak out. 

Suddenly, Yuuji’s throat was tight around him, his breath hot against his groin. A noise caught in his chest, and his grip tightened in his hair. 

“Fuck—” he sighed, twitching when a hum vibrated around him. Not recognizing his affection, he smoothed back his light hair, getting a better view of his face as his eyes watered. “Good—good boy…” 

Yuuji whined, nuzzled into his smooth skin, and squeezed his upper thigh. The low groans he let out made him sweat; the vibrations and the movement as his head bobbed had Megumi moaning in time. Slightly ushering his head to a rhythm he preferred, he couldn’t stop watching him.

Somehow, some way, this vulgar act looked beautiful on him. It made the soft, innocent lines of his face seem blurred with that of an incubus, completely irresistible as he drained him. Spit dripped from the sides of his mouth, and yet, he still looked cute. Gentle, giving, and so, so, enthusiastic. 

He pulled off too soon, and Megumi tried not to force him back down. The little huffs of their breathing, and the way his pink tongue hung slack past swollen, strawberry lips was precious. And he smiled; he smiled so brightly it was almost inappropriate. There was something chipper and expectant in his eyes, blinking at him as if awaiting his command.

Feeling a rush of power from watching a beautiful man obey his will, he caressed his face too softly. Thumb gliding along his lower lip, he angled his chin higher, and he followed him thoughtlessly. Megumi hummed a laugh, “You’re a natural, puppy… Keep it up—maybe I’ll let you fuck me.” Even though every last intention led to such ends; he always planned on riding Yuuji until he cried, or passed out, or went completely non-verbal.

Sweet pineapple liqueur spilled from his throat in the form of a whimper, “Pu- puppy?” He asked, his voice high and weak, “Where did- when did that become a thing?”

Megumi scoffed, tugging at his lower lip and showing off his crowded bottom teeth, “Don’t pretend you’re surprised.”

A breezy acceptance crossed his face, and his desire, hellish need, slackened his face, “Fine, you win.” He just kept staring at him from the awkward, uncomfortable crouch Megumi had him in. His attention, his adoration—every obvious emotion swarming in his pretty brown eyes made him regret how transactional this all began. “Wh- wow you’re gorgeous…”

Caught off guard, he scowled, defensive, “Save your praise—down, boy.” 

Rolling his eyes, he puffed, panting like a dog with his tongue out, licking the sensitive flesh around his piercing. Megumi smiled like an idiot, gasping as he took him in again. 

For his first time, Yuuji was doing well; better than most other guys who gave him half-assed blowjobs after finishing early. His movements were enthusiastic, and from the way he hummed, and moaned, and whined, he clearly enjoyed giving. 

Megumi couldn’t tell if he was lost in thought or the warmth of his (class!) partner, but his stomach ached again, turning him mushy like rotten fruit. It was something he didn’t recognize outside of soft smiles and longing glances. It made his heart cinch and his chest flare with fondness. That something meant…

No—that was not the pressing concern, because that fluttering and churning became almost impossible to suppress. Yuuji’s mouth moved with untrained desire, and his throat was tight, heavenly every time he breached it. The grip on his thigh was tense, unrelenting, and the pain pulled him closer to the edge faster than ever.

“Fuck, Yuuji, I’m—” he choked out. Yuuji didn’t change a thing, he just kept his pace steady, understanding that his movements were working. “Je- Jesus…” Failing to deny himself the pleasure, he tugged on his hair, and forced him down as he cried out, his sigh piercing the air. 

He came deep in his throat, body tensing as he fucked through it with little twitches and jerks. The hand on his thigh was bound to leave a bruise, and he was too enmeshed by how incredible his mouth was to feel guilty making him swallow. Legs clamped around his sweet face as he finished with shuddering breaths, he wrenched his classmate’s head away when he was sound enough to think.

The sudden lack of warmth made another wild rush pass him, and a couple splatters of cum wet his stomach. Still coming down, his entire body twitched when Yuuji sunk his teeth into his thigh, pulling another moan from his throat. He groaned when his (group) partner’s tongue smoothed over the indents of his teeth, before noticing the disgusting way his sweat made him stick to the leather seats. 

Scratching the soft pink hair he'd been fixated on for the past few months, he brushed the side of his face, “Good boy…” His voice was more of a breath, and he dragged his nails against the grain of his undercut. When he received no response, he panicked a bit, “You okay, tiger? Talk to me.”

Yuuji swallowed, cut off with a heavy breath, “I’m- I’m- doing fucking great, I just gotta- uh,” he sighed, almost purring. “That was so hot, God, you’re- I can’t think…”

A quick shrug, Megumi shifted so they were both upright, stealing him with a too-slow, too-sweet kiss. “Good, don’t think,” he mumbled against his lips, “stop thinking, focus on me…” 

There was a remnant of salty, bittersweet cum on his tongue, but Yuuji’s spit made it taste like a mimosa on a Sunday afternoon. Equally as intoxicating: the intensity of his kiss veering into primal greed, grappling to any part of skin he could. Yuuji whined, and bit, and didn’t push his luck, and God, he was perfect.

Now, Megumi felt a twinge of regret. Yuuji was perfect. Handsome, hardworking, strong, submissive, sweet as spring. This should have gone differently; he should've gone about this the right way, instead of acting like some bumbling whore who—

“Megumi,” his name called him back to the surface, buzzing against his lips, “You froze—you okay?” 

Squeezing his cheek, Megumi affirmed, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Truthfully, he was fine, he was just suddenly afraid Yuuji saw him as some kind of slut with no backbone. But, eh, if that’s what he had to be—he’d be it, just to know how it felt to be fucked by him. “You still wanna’ fuc—”

“Yes,” his voice was hoarse, “please let me fuck you, please.”

A small chuckle bubbled from his chest, “Jeez, okay, eager…” He smoothed his pink hair back off his forehead, and pulled his ear when they separated. Leaning over the center console, he clicked on the light, digging around in his bag. “You have a condom in here?”

No response. Megumi opened his mouth to ask again, but was interrupted by the sharp pain of teeth digging into one side of his ass. He yelped, moaning as his legs shook, his arms struggling to support him. His breath was hot, his bite forceful, and the blood that rushed southward gave him vertigo. 

“Yuuji! What—” he snapped, faltering when his classmate sucked in a breath, whining and kissing the fresh wound.

“Sorry- sorry, I’m—” he grumbled, “Bad lie. I’m not sorry. You’ve got a cute ass, and back piercings that I didn’t even know were possible.”

Megumi laughed, snatching a few packets of lube from the front pouch of his bag, “And you have sharp canines.” He rifled around some more in the off chance he had protection, “Do you have a condom?”

A groan into his cheek, “I dunno’ check the glove box.” Another bite, a lick, a mark—and he wondered what kind of gore he’d be waking up to tomorrow. 

Car registration, insurance, band-aids, hand wipes, receipts—but no condom. Damnit. “No luck.” He grumbled, irritated, and clambered into the back again. 

Clearly frustrated, Yuuji squeezed his thigh as he settled. “Shit. I- uh, sorry…” 

Damnit. Every muscle in his body begged for more. There was a completely irrational want—no, need—for Yuuji inside of him that betrayed every single lecture on safe sex he’d ever been given. This was all he’d been thinking about for weeks as they stole glances across a library table under fluorescent lights. And it was ruined because they didn't have a condom. 

They sat there for a few moments, silent as the cogs turned in their minds, looking for a solution. Megumi’s leg shook, a heavy, almost painful craving curling in his stomach. It’s not like he could get pregnant, afterall…

Hand sliding up Yuuji’s (very conspicuous) loose grey sweatpants, he grabbed his cock through the fabric. Suppressing the little wave of excitement that passed through him when he could just barely wrap his width, he gave in. “You’re not… sleeping with anyone else, are you?” He mumbled, trying not to sound as clingy as he felt.

Hand tightening on his thigh again, he looked off, “Oh, uh, no… I don't sleep around much.”

“You don’t have any weird rashes, or burning, or weird skin things I should be worried about contracting?” His middle finger dragged up his length, and his mouth watered.

Aghast, Yuuji’s face almost made him laugh, “What!? No—I don’t have an STD, Megumi, I’m—” 

Megumi squinted, gave his most intimidating glare, before sucking air through his teeth. “And you’re being one-hundred-percent honest when you say you don't have any other current sexual partners?” His hand tightened around his dick, and he watched the visible pleasure and agony surge from him. 

“Of course I am!” He grimaced. “I’m not gonna’ give you anything, you sound like my doctor…”

Whacking him on the chest with the back of his hand, Megumi scowled, and his other tightened around his erection without thinking.

“Hey! Hey! Ease up, baby—your hand…” he faltered, “It’s just- your hand is on my dick, and you’re- you’re asking these very important questions, just…” He laughed, held his face and kissed his cheek, “So clinically…” 

Against his wishes, he smiled, and he was mourning the loss of his apathy around this man. “Fuck this, and you…” he gritted, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably, “You’re lucky I’m still doing this.”

The pull of his touch was almost painful, and Megumi kissed him with a fervor he intended to only be sexual. But, of course it wasn’t, because it was Yuuji and he seeped love from his pores the way a watermelon drips red when you bite into it. His hand was on his ass immediately, and it had him chuckling into his mouth.

“I’m lucky you let me touch you at all.” 

Making out, groping at each other, shifting their bodies to try and find a comfortable position, Megumi’s impatient hands tugged his sweats down, his briefs, and he pulled away. Taking in his image, he swayed, his vision going black with just one look at him. Not only was Yuuji himself perfect—charming, funny, respectful, obedient—but his dick was, too. Of course, his dick was pretty, and big, and everything he’d ever wanted. Just one more thing that made his heart beat a little too fast, made him imagine waking up to sleepy sex and real, sappy intimacy.

He didn’t bother brushing his bangs back before he shifted, leaning down and letting saliva drip onto the head of his cock. Much to his dismay, Yuuji held his hair and stopped him with a light grasp. “Hey, wait—you don’t have to…”

“I want to.” Megumi responded, so fast he barely had a chance to consider it. Desperate for contact, he spread the spit and precum across his head with two fingers, reveling in his shiver.

He stammered as the touch grew rougher, “I’m just saying, don’t feel—”

“Shut up. Do you want me to, or not?” He didn’t dip any lower, but kept up his teasing. “If you don’t want to, I won’t.”

Scratching his head, Yuuji sighed, “I- I mean, yeah, I want you to. Just don't feel pressur—”

After he had permission, he ran with it, getting that first taste of his precum, and devolving after that. Megumi might as well have been starving, ravenous, because once he got that taste of salty, bitter nectar, nothing would satiate him ever again. 

He made a show of it, let his cock bulge in his cheek, running his tongue up his length, sucking on his tip and nothing more, dragging his nails up and down his thigh. Bracing himself, he took him deeper, and fought every urge to gag, praying that all his experience didn’t fail him now. Yuuji’s hand tightened in his hair when he did, moaning and unintentionally bucking, pushing himself deeper. 

“Fuck, fuck, your throat—God,” he whined, holding his hair, smoothing back his bangs lovingly. What wasn’t so loving (but to Megumi, the highest kind of praise), Yuuji’s hips raised, and thrusted, and pushed deeper into his throat, doing all the work for him. “Sorry, sorry, fuck—you’re just—” 

All he did was hum, too distracted by his gaining speed, the ragged and rushed pace of his hips as he fucked his throat. He couldn’t try to keep up with him, letting Yuuji use him the way he pleased, trying to keep himself together when he felt his mind melting away. 

His head was fuzzy, and he’d never been happier. He was being played with like a doll, and the vulgar noises from the back of his throat were almost lost to the ringing in his ears. All he could think was that Yuuji tasted good, and his throat was full, and he was hardly able to breathe but he didn't care. He wanted to suffocate, he wanted to die here doing what he loved. 

After what felt like no time at all, his movement stilled, and Megumi’s nose was pressed against the rough hair at his base, just barely unable to take all of him. He dug his nails into his thigh, trying to take the last bit of him, breathing sharply through his nose. Then, he was wrenched away from his heaven, Yuuji pulling him upright and holding his face delicately.

Panic laced his classmate’s voice, “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I should’ve aske—”

“Yuuji,” he rasped, his head spinning as he cleared his throat, “Don’t apologize, that was…” he whined, ashamed of the noise, his brain completely liquefied. Tears dried on his cheeks, his eyes fluttering, and his nose dripping from the sinus rush, he could hardly think. “I love giving head, and that was the best…” he swallowed, “best time I’ve ever had doing it… Don’t gloat.” 

Megumi leaned in, kissed him quickly (in that too quick way, like he had a thousand more of those to spare) and found the lube packets on the seat. Against his lips, a mumble of, “I still should’ve asked…”

“Whatever,” Megumi brushed him off, too pleased with how his head still spun. He tapped his chest with the packets, gave another quick kiss. “Now,” he drawled, “be a good boy, and prep me, yeah?”

A loud, dramatic groan filled the air, and he grabbed him by the upper arms, shook him a bit before peppering his face with kisses. “I’d do anything for you.” He bit his cheek, and just as Megumi reacted to the pain, he was flipped onto his stomach, his ass raised in the air.

Before he could comprehend it, Yuuji’s tongue was pressed against his hole, shocking him with warm spit and sensation. He cried out, palming at the door to ground himself as pleasure ripped through him. The groan his partner let out vibrated against his muscles, all his nerves alight like sun glare. 

“Yuu- Yuuji, what—” He stuttered, voice high and breathy.

Another grumble, tongue flexing against him as he pressed a bit harder, before he offered a parting lick. “You taste good,” Yuuji hummed before slapping his ass, the same, sore side his teeth sank into before. “I should’ve asked—again, my bad.”

Winded from the rush of service, mind boggled, he sighed, “It’s- it's fine. Fuck, it's more than fine…” he took a deep breath, hearing the plastic rip on one of the lube packages, “You’re- uh, into that?” 

“Mm, I’m into you, but, yeah, I guess.” He crinkled the packet a bit, and squeezed his thigh. “Cold,” he warned, before swiping the (very cold!) liquid over his hole, rubbing a few slow circles as Megumi tried to hide his quiet, chesty moans. “I love how you sound, Megumi—be loud, please, let me know what I do to you.”

Whining when Yuuji’s two fingers breached him, he gritted his teeth as all of his noises slipped out. Everything he swallowed to keep himself as apathetic and nonchalant as possible out on gory display. But it was impossible with this man—impossible, because his fingers stayed shallow and stretched him a bit, working him open before fully pressing in. 

The pace he set was slow, but rough; every thrust of his fingers brushed something hypersensitive within him, a spot only Megumi could reach with his own hands. When he brushed it over and over again, his brain scrambled, anything he wanted to say—a compliment, a judgement—was lost on his tongue. He was stupid, reduced to nothing against his hands.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he squeezed the bend in his upper thigh, before running the flat of his fingernails down his leg, making him tremble. Megumi tried to keep himself as composed as possible, unused to receiving actual pleasure in prep, or sex in general. His neck ached from trying to watch Yuuji (to no avail) as he finger fucked him, and he resorted to moaning into his leather seats. 

A third finger made him hiss. The stretch was a little more intense than he expected, and Yuuji’s free hand continued to rove his legs. He sang his sweet, strawberry flavored praises, the romance and sexuality a strange, beautiful contrast on his tongue. It was that kind of affection that made him want to shrivel up and die knowing he’d ever settled for anything less.

“Doing okay? You think you’re ready?” Yuuji asked, his pace slowing, still deep and scraping his prostate with every movement. As much as he wanted to say yes, yes, I’m ready, fuck me, please, he knew that would just result in agony, and more agony. With his face still pressed against the seat, he held up four fingers in the air, fluttering them a bit before he got the message.

A fourth finger made him gasp. Not in pain, but because it was simply unnatural for someone’s hands to make him feel this good. Megumi swore, unintentionally rocking his hips back to take him further. Impatient, he wasn’t sure if the misery of waiting to have all of him was worse than the pain he’d be in if he took him now. 

Yeah, the misery of waiting was obviously worse; Megumi wasn’t afraid of a little pain.

“Okay,” he sighed, “Okay, okay, yeah, I’m ready…”

Not pulling away, Yuuji slowed down a bit, “You sure? I can wait.” Right as he was about to reply, he pressed in as deep as he could, curling his fingers against his sensitive insides. A broken moan escaped him instead of words, and he cursed him when his vision went white, “You look hot like this, anyway.” 

Swatting behind him uselessly, he pushed himself up. “Thanks,” he breathed, disappointed when he was suddenly empty, “but I’ll look even better while I ride you.” He didn’t pride himself on dirty talk, but something about it was easy with Yuuji—as was everything. Talking, joking, flirting, smiling…

“I’m being tested by God.” He grabbed Megumi’s waist as he moved to straddle him, looking up at him as they adjusted. “Is this the sinful lust all those religious freaks talk about?” 

“Yep.” Megumi popped the last consonant, snatching the lube and ripping it open, “And now that you’re a filthy sodomite, you’re going straight to hell.” 

Yuuji’s toothy, sharp smile made him falter. “Anal sex doesn’t count, baby, you gotta’ know that by now.” The barking laugh Megumi let out at the comment was embarrassing as all hell, because Jesus this man made him weak. “But, I’d gladly take eternal damnation in exchange for you.”

A click of his tongue, both in surprise and as a mocking gesture, he poured the cold, gooey lube over Yuuji’s cock. Then, another packet for good measure, covering him and soaking in the way he shivered. “How sweet,” he kissed the side of his mouth, bit his lower lip, “Now, shut up and fuck me, puppy. Can you do that for me?”

Flushed, Yuuji grabbed his ass, and helped raise him to align their bodies. His head fell back when he breached his hole. “Woof,” he sighed, a soft, comforting smile across his lips. 

As lucky as he was, Yuuji was big and Megumi wasn't entirely confident he’d make it through tonight unscathed. The stretch of just his tip was a little intense, but nothing he couldn’t handle. As he lowered himself even further, he grasped the headrest beside Yuuji’s hair, digging his nails in as he grit his teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—goddamnit, Yuuji.” He dipped his head, letting his partner support his weight as he bit the muscle between his neck and shoulder. “Oh my God, you’re so big, what the fuck—”

A small whimper from the man beneath him, “You feel so good, baby, you’re doing great…” 

Megumi didn't need him to tell him that, because he couldn’t imagine anyone else taking him without screaming. He let himself slip a little further, the edge of pleasure teasing the deeper parts of his insides. The pain, he decided, would be worth it, before he slammed his hips down, taking the rest of him as a piercing, wail of a moan tore through the air.

His hole spasmed as he adjusted to the intrusion, fluttering and tightening while his body filled. Yuuji must've had the biggest dick of any guy he’d been with, and he feared he could never go back. His tip reached a spot he had been longing for. The relief made him want to cry, never having been so full and complete.

Similarly, his partner’s entire body reacted: his hands tightened on his ass, he swore, his thighs flexed, his neck rolled to allow more real estate for Megumi’s tongue. They were caught there for a moment, trembling while their bodies were as close as possible for the first time ever. Working his way up his neck—biting his artery a little too hard, sucking dark marks close to his jaw, muttering nothing-words into his skin—he kissed him again. And again, and again.

It was a mess of open mouths and spit, his cranberry chapstick was just a ghost of what it was before. It was hot breath and tongue and tangerine and utter euphoria when Yuuji started rocking his hips for him. The raw skin on skin made the friction so much hotter, and Megumi was sweating when he pulled away.

He smiled a bit, a wild bliss that took over him when he saw his classmate’s eyes glazed over with lust. “Doing okay, puppy?” The pain of being stretched had subsided, and while Yuuji was rocking his hips, he seemed brainless, beyond himself.

“Ye- yeah, yes-” he whimpered, hands twitching against his ass, and he pressed his forehead into his chest. “I’m fucking… incredible. You- ha- you’re perfect, you feel so good, fuck…” he bit his pec, sucking a mark close to his sternum. 

Megumi purred, “Damn right, I do.” Nails running against his undercut, he let him set the pace for a moment longer, the illusion of free will. That was something he gave up a while ago—the minute he bottomed out. “You ready?”

“H- yeah, yes—” 

With no more negotiation, he raised his hips the slightest bit, still holding Yuuji's hair as he moaned into his chest. As he established a steady rhythm of short, slow movements, his partner was a mess, shattering beneath him, struggling to breathe, choking on his voice while he swore and heaved. Head back against the seat, his eyes watery and precious as he stumbled over Megumi’s name like a broken prayer.

Quickening his pace, he lost himself in sensation, bouncing on his cock with little to no thought behind his movements. Any kind of technique he’d honed was thrown out the door, and he chased his pleasure without thinking. Nobody had ever filled him like this, made him melt like this. 

He looked at Yuuji with sharp eyes as he slowed, raising his hips high before slamming himself down. Even if it was more for his partner, the sudden, deep press made his jaw drop, sound failing him. He dug his nails into his muscular shoulders, catching his breath.

If he couldn’t see his carotid thrumming beneath his skin, Megumi would've thought his classmate was dead. “You okay, puppy?” He nodded in response. His eyes were open, but completely blown out and teary; his mouth was slack, and he sucked in some saliva back in as he tried to speak.

Voice shaky, “Yea- yeah, fuck, I’m great. Just peachy,” he gasped in some air, “I just- God, I’m losin’ it down here.” He chuckled, “You’re so tight, and, ugh, you take me so fuckin’ well…”

The praise went straight to his head, “Did you expect anything else?” Yuuji started to scramble, voice failing, but he cut him off with a quick kiss. “Don’t try to speak, tiger, I know, I know…” He raised his hips as he cooed, groaning, “God, you’re so deep…” Blissful, his partner hummed, roving his clipped nails along his waist, the slight tickle making him twitch. 

Yuuji made a lot of noise, he was finding out; he whimpered and whined and moaned through high breaths while Megumi had his way; he praised and worshiped and swore while his hips bucked, desperate for more of him. He was a beautiful mess, dripping with a sweet aphrodisiac that had Megumi kissing and biting at his face. 

In passing, he wondered what his fraternity brothers would think of him if they saw him whimpering beneath some twink he met a month ago. The submission in his eyes, the beautiful, honeysuckle sheen that surrendered all of his power was exhilarating. His willingness, his trust, was instant, and oh so misguided. 

He pressed into the deepest part of him over and over. He touched his hips, his thighs, his waist, his ass with the grace of a sculptor, and kissed him like he was accepting the bitter, bleeding fruit of Hades. And Megumi couldn’t imagine ever fucking someone else. Even if he didn’t realize it—he knew this was exactly what he’d been looking for all along.

As he fucked himself stupid, Yuuji’s hand reached for his cock, letting his bouncing do the work for him. “Fuck, fuck, Megumi- Megumi, I—”

The stuttering and stopping of his thrusts told him everything he needed to know. “Hold- hold on for me, Yuuji,” his words were cut with a moan, “Keep it together, just a little longer…” He didn’t slow down, keeping the previous pace even as his partner stilled and flexed beneath him.

“I c- I can’t, Meg- fuck, please, let me…” he whimpered. The noise made him laugh, realizing how tightly Yuuji was wrapped around his pinky finger. “Please, please, I’m gonna—” he groaned, clawing at his burning thighs, “please, let me cum, Megumi.”

Face red, he watched as tears slipped down his partner’s perfect, tanned cheekbones. He was desperate, sweet-faced, and obeying him without question. He chose mercy after a few more tears wet his face. “Okay, tiger, cum for me,” he pushed his damp, pink bangs back, watching his face as he let go. Eyelashes fluttering, baring his teeth as his hand twitched, his body flexed, and his voice crackled, all whines and moans and pure rapture.

Hot and wet, Yuuji spilled over, and the pure ecstasy of his cum within him was intoxicating. Riding him through it, he was drunk on power, on the closeness of feeling his cock twitch inside him. When his partner slackened, he dipped down to bite along his artery, feeling the vibration of his partner’s laboring breath. He whined beneath his teeth—high, pitchy sounds as he was pushed beyond comfort.

“Megumi, Megumi, please- ha- I’m…” his words slurred, spit gathering in his mouth as he devolved. His hand kept pumping while hips kept moving, unrelenting in pursuit of an orgasm.

Tongue pressed to his classmate’s neck, he swallowed, moaning into his skin, “Just- just a little more, puppy, I’m cl- close… You feel so- so good…” Yuuji swiped some of his spit, makeshift lube to slide against his cock, the stimulation pushing him even closer. Any semblance of technique abandoned as he rutted against him chasing his own high like a bitch in heat. 

Whimpering into his ear, the beautiful man beneath him sighed, “Megumi, baby, please…” 

The syrupy, passionfruit nectar in his voice was enough to finish him off, his teeth digging into the crook of Yuuji’s neck, as he spilled over. Shuddering and tightening and high off the pheromones trapped in the car. Beneath him, his partner was dead on the scene, twitching mindlessly as cum splattered over their chests, Megumi still riding out his climax. No thought controlled his body, just the primal part of his brain, tasting nothing but sweat and blood and skin.

Eventually, he slowed, his body still wracked with tremors and chills. He realized that he hadn’t heard himself when he unfolded, and must’ve sounded like an idiot based on the way Yuuji let out a winded chuckle, moving to run his hands along his back. “Fu- fuck, Yuuji, fuck…” He sighed, digging his nose into his heartbeat.

They both lingered there, breathing, bringing themselves back to reality after shattering each other. Megumi pulled back, resting his elbows on the seat behind his partner’s head, puffs of air brushing his face. Careless (but so filled with care it made his chest hurt), he vied to lock lips, and the resulting kiss was slow, gentle, affectionate to a degree he couldn’t understand. Yuuji smoothed back his hair, scratching his scalp and making him shiver. 

“Oh, Megumi…” he muttered into his mouth, and his tone implied this was over. Over. They would disconnect, and stay apart; Megumi was never good enough for more than a one night stand. They’d sit on opposite sides of the room, steal glances, and lose the memories of this experience as the semester went on. Yuuji would probably go on, find a nice, acceptable woman and introduce her to his parents and— “Me- Megumi, you okay?” He asked, pulling back the slightest bit.

“What?” He swallowed the burning sob that threatened his pride. This was just his post-coital emotion, nothing more. This would be fine—he’d be fine, and they’d be just fine apart. “I’m fine, just…”

Clicking his tongue, he kissed him quickly again, still full of his citrine spit. “You… your energy shifted.” He paused, before smiling into his mouth, “That sounds so woo-woo, I just mean… Are you really okay?”

A small chuckle that he regretted giving him, “I’m fine. Just worn out.” He kissed him again, and again, and again. “That was, um…” he tried, failing and sounding like a complete dumbass trying to put words to ‘them’—their union.

“You rewired my brain. I think I’d die for you.” His words sounded so genuine, heartfelt, dripping with sticky sap that made Megumi’s teeth hurt. “Maybe more than rewired. I think you broke me.” With his arms wrapped around him, their lips slotted together, perfectly; the word of the night, capturing their synchronicity, their unity, their genuine connection. 

Megumi pulled away, preparing himself for the inevitable severing. “So, I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

Incredulous and cute, he huffed, “By a long shot.” Yuuji reached up, caressed his cheek, to which he indulged, leaning into it and biting the muscle beneath his thumb. “But, I also just like you in general, and I think that helps.”

Confused, he brushed it off, “Whatever.” Trying to put on his usual apathetic façade, his voice shook. “Maybe we should…”

“No, no,” Yuuji held him in place, nuzzling into his collarbones, sucking a mark along the sharp line, “Stay, just for a sec. You’re warm. And you’re hot, and you feel great, and I don’t wanna’ leave yet, and—”

Smiling into his hair like an idiot, he cut him off, “Okay, okay, jeez, tiger…” 

After holding each other and making out for a little too long, they separated, both groaning as Yuuji slipped out of him. Cum leaked from him, and he hadn’t thought it through in the slightest. Having his seed, his potential lifeblood within him made him emotional, and he hated it. It dripped onto the seat, and they both chuckled a bit before Megumi remembered the hand wipes in the glove box. 

When he painstakingly leaned over the center console, a hand caressed his ass. “Damn, my bad, baby,” he squeezed the bruises, tender and sensitive.

Megumi grumbled, “Are you kidding me?” He already knew he’d hurt after this, his reaction was just confirmation.

“Battle scars!” He kissed the other side, giving him a soft hickey before he received a slight smack to his head. “Ow, all because I like your ass…”

He could pretend to be mad, but he had put himself on display with certain intentions. “Control yourself, you animal…” 

They cleaned the seats, trying their best with the cum drying on their chests and thighs. They dressed, made out in their briefs for a few helpless minutes, and Megumi was still freezing. When they were back in the front, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, knuckles slow and stiff as his hands curled to fists. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

A beat, and Yuuji cleared his throat. “You, uh- you could come shower at mine, stay the night.” He coughed again, pressing the button to defog his windows. “It’s, y’know, it’s closer.”

What? He must’ve been hearing things. Being invited to a guy’s house—normal. Being invited to spend the night at a guy’s house, to shower with him, and to wake up, a groggy mess beside him—absolutely not normal.

So not normal that Megumi responded in an instant, “Sure.” Looking away, out the windows, focusing on the flickering light from the parking lot streetlamps, he wondered what fucking mosquito bit him, to make him act like this. “You wanna’ fuck again?”

“Hell yeah,” He shrugged, reached over and ruffled the back of his hair. “Only if you do; you could just come over, if you want.” This all surprised him enough, judging by how exhausted he seemed before.

As nonchalant as possible (which, at this moment, was chalant as hell), he pretended to check his nails, “I’ll go again, if you can handle it.”

All Yuuji did was chuckle, scratch his head, before handing over his phone for his passenger to choose the music. They chatted, flirted for a few minutes before they pulled out of the lot, his hand firmly gripping his thigh. If he wasn’t still horny from before, he would’ve been now—because fuck he had pretty hands, and his tendons flexed in that comically sexy way that made his head hurt. 

Only about a mile into the drive, Yuuji caved. “So, uh, you lookin’ for anything serious, right now?”

“Yeah.” Megumi lied. His heart raced at his own response, and he ground his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anything serious, he just wasn’t looking, per se. Yesterday, he wasn’t open to it. Tonight? Maybe things had changed—but only a little bit.

“Oh, sweet.” He didn’t miss the way Yuuji’s voice shook, and his lips twitched into a smile, his face hot. “So, can I take you out on Saturday? Like, for dinner, or something?”

Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, he felt like a teenager being asked to the prom. “Yeah, if you don’t fuck things up tonight.” 

He let out that sweet, sugary laugh that tasted like peaches and mangoes and just ripe nectarines; “Talk about pressure.”

Chest warm despite how frigid his hands were, he reached down, threaded his fingers between his classmate’s. Even in the dead of winter, Yuuji was a wildfire—he was a summertime sunrise melting the frost covering empty evening streets. And Megumi caved, curling into the heat that he’d be waking up to, morning after (hopeful) morning.