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The bridal chamber smells of sandalwood and fresh tatami, the incense still curling thin ribbons of smoke toward the ceiling where the lantern light catches and holds them. Yuuji sits with his back to the door and his hands folded in his lap, the white ceremonial robes pooling around him in heavy silk folds, and he listens to the compound settling into silence beyond the screens.
The wedding guests have dispersed. The elders have offered their formal congratulations, their eyes sharp and assessing even as their words curved into the shapes of blessing. Naoya had smiled at him across the banquet hall with something ugly living behind his teeth, and Yuuji had smiled back, pleasant and empty, and thought about the blade he’d left hidden in the sleeve of his everyday clothes, now folded neatly in a chest he won’t touch until morning.
The door slides open behind him.
Yuuji doesn’t turn. He knows the weight of those footsteps, has known them for twelve years, though the rhythm has changed. Heavier now. Longer stride. The boy who used to stomp through the halls in sandals too big for his feet has grown into someone whose presence fills a room before he speaks.
Megumi closes the door. The wood settles into its frame with a soft click, and the sound seems very loud in the quiet.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Then Megumi crosses the room in three strides, drops to his knees beside Yuuji with enough force to make the tatami creak, and his hands are on Yuuji’s face before Yuuji can react, cupping his jaw, tilting his head back, and Megumi just looks at him with something raw and starving in his expression that makes Yuuji’s breath catch.
“Megumi—”
“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Megumi’s voice comes out rough, cracked at the edges. His thumbs stroke along Yuuji’s cheekbones, the touch reverent and hungry at once, and his eyes track over Yuuji’s face like he’s trying to memorize it. “All through the ceremony. The banquet. Every time someone came up to congratulate us I kept thinking about when it would be over, when I could—”
He stops. Swallows. His hands are trembling, just slightly, a fine vibration that Yuuji can feel against his skin.
“When you could what?” Yuuji keeps his voice light, teasing, reaching for the familiar dynamic. “Finally get away from the elders? I don’t blame you, Ogi’s speech went on for—”
Megumi kisses him.
It’s clumsy and desperate, more pressure than finesse, Megumi’s mouth landing slightly off-center before he adjusts, tilting his head and pressing closer. His fingers slide back into Yuuji’s hair, tangling in the strands, and a sound escapes him against Yuuji’s lips, low and wanting, like something that’s been trapped in his chest for years finally finding its way out.
Yuuji’s hands come up automatically, pressing flat against Megumi’s chest with the intention of pushing him back, but his palms meet solid muscle beneath the formal robes and his fingers curl into the fabric instead, gripping without meaning to. Megumi is so much bigger than him now, his shoulders blocking out the lantern light, his body a wall of heat that Yuuji can feel even through the layers of silk between them.
“Wait.” Yuuji turns his head, breaking the kiss, and Megumi makes a frustrated sound and chases his mouth, lips dragging across Yuuji’s cheek. “Megumi, wait, we should—”
“I’ve been waiting.” The words come out ragged, muffled against Yuuji’s jaw. “I’ve been waiting for years. Do you know how long I’ve—” His breath shudders out, hot and damp against Yuuji’s throat. “Every time you smiled at me. Every time you touched my shoulder or fixed my hair or called me sweetheart like it was a joke, like you didn’t know what it did to me—”
“I was teasing you.” Yuuji’s voice wavers, loses some of its steadiness. “You were a child, I wasn’t—”
“I’m not a child anymore.”
Megumi pulls back just far enough to look at him, and Yuuji’s stomach drops at what he sees. Megumi’s face is flushed, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling with quick uneven breaths. He looks wrecked already, undone by nothing more than a single clumsy kiss, and his hands are still shaking where they’re tangled in Yuuji’s hair.
“I know,” Yuuji says, and the words come out softer than he means them to. “I know you’re not.”
“Then let me—” Megumi’s grip tightens, his fingers pressing against Yuuji’s scalp. “Please. I’ve wanted—I’ve wanted this for so long, I used to lie awake thinking about—” He cuts himself off, color flooding his cheeks, and his gaze drops to Yuuji’s mouth. “Just let me.”
Yuuji’s chest aches with something he refuses to name. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around Megumi’s wrists, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath the skin.
“Listen to me.” He keeps his voice gentle, the same voice he used to use when Megumi was small and upset about something. “The consummation clause exists to produce an heir. That’s its purpose. But there’s no rush, Megumi. We have a month. And I’m thirty-one years old—my body doesn’t work the way it did at twenty. If the goal is pregnancy, we should be strategic about it. Wait for the right timing. Consult with the physicians about my cycle.” He strokes his thumbs across Megumi’s pulse points, soothing. “Trying tonight would just be wasteful.”
Megumi stares at him.
For a moment Yuuji thinks it’s worked, thinks the logic has landed, and then Megumi laughs, a short sharp sound that’s closer to a sob than anything else.
“I don’t care about pregnancy.”
“The elders—”
“I don’t care about the elders.” Megumi leans in again, close enough that his breath ghosts across Yuuji’s lips. “I don’t care about the contract or the bloodline or any of it. I care about you. I’ve always—” His voice cracks. “It’s always been you. Since I was fourteen and I realized why I couldn’t stop staring at you during training, why I got so angry when Maki made you laugh, why I—”
He stops, jaw clenching, and Yuuji can see the effort it takes for him to swallow back whatever was coming next.
“Megumi.” Yuuji tightens his grip on Megumi’s wrists, trying to ground them both. “This isn’t—we should slow down. Take some time to adjust. It’s a big change, being married, and you’re overwhelmed right now—”
“I’m not overwhelmed.” Megumi pulls one wrist free of Yuuji’s grip with embarrassing ease, his hand dropping to Yuuji’s waist and pressing flat against the silk, fingers spreading wide. “I know exactly what I want. I’ve known for years. The only thing that’s different now is that I’m finally allowed to have it.”
His palm slides higher, tracing the curve of Yuuji’s ribs through the robe, and Yuuji’s breath stutters.
“We should wait.” Yuuji’s hands come up to push at Megumi’s shoulders, but the angle is wrong and Megumi is so much broader than him now, solid and immovable, and the push barely shifts him at all. “Megumi, I’m serious, we should—”
Megumi’s other hand finds the collar of Yuuji’s robe and tugs, loosening the fold, and cool air hits the newly exposed skin of Yuuji’s throat. Megumi makes a sound like he’s been punched, hungry and wounded, and leans down to press his mouth there, lips parting against Yuuji’s pulse point.
“You always smell so good,” Megumi mumbles against his skin. “I used to—when you’d lean over me to correct my stance, I’d hold my breath just to keep the smell of you in my lungs longer—”
“That’s—” Yuuji’s voice comes out thready, too high. His hands are still pressed against Megumi’s shoulders but they’ve stopped pushing, fingers digging into the muscle instead. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Megumi’s teeth graze his throat, and Yuuji’s whole body jerks. “It’s true. I used to think about you every night. What you’d feel like. What sounds you’d make.”
His hand slides down from Yuuji’s ribs to his hip, gripping hard, and then lower, finding the place where the robe has rucked up around Yuuji’s thighs. His fingers slip beneath the fabric and find bare skin, and Yuuji gasps.
“Megumi, stop—”
“Your skin is so soft.” Megumi sounds dazed, reverent, his fingers stroking up the inside of Yuuji’s thigh with clumsy wonder. “I always wondered. Whether you’d be soft everywhere.”
Yuuji grabs his wrist, tries to pull his hand back, but Megumi’s arm doesn’t budge. It’s like trying to move stone. Yuuji can feel the strength coiled in him, the easy power of a body that’s been trained for combat since childhood and has spent the last five years growing into something that Yuuji’s smaller frame simply cannot match.
“We should stop.” Yuuji’s voice wavers. “We should talk about this first, we should—”
“We can talk after.” Megumi’s fingers slide higher, brushing against the crease where Yuuji’s thigh meets his hip, and Yuuji’s breath catches audibly. “Just—please—let me touch you. I’ve wanted to for so long, I just want to feel—”
His hand shifts inward, and his fingers find the soft cotton of Yuuji’s undergarments, and the sound Megumi makes is broken, devastated.
“You’re wet.”
Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut. His face is burning, heat spreading down his throat and across his chest. “That doesn’t mean—”
“You’re so wet.” Megumi’s voice has gone hoarse, cracking on the words. His fingers press against the damp fabric, tracing the shape of Yuuji through it, and his breath is coming fast and uneven against Yuuji’s neck. “God, you’re—I can feel it soaking through—”
“It’s just—a physical response.” Yuuji tries to close his thighs but Megumi’s wrist is between them, holding them apart, and the movement just presses his hand closer. “It doesn’t mean I want—”
Megumi’s fingers slip beneath the fabric.
Yuuji’s voice dies in his throat. The first touch of Megumi’s fingertips against his bare skin, against the slick heat of him, punches the air out of his lungs. Megumi groans like he’s the one being touched, his forehead dropping to Yuuji’s shoulder, and his fingers slide through the wetness with shaking reverence.
“Twelve years.” Megumi’s voice is muffled against Yuuji’s robe. “I’ve thought about this for twelve years. What you’d feel like. Whether you’d be wet for me.” His fingers find Yuuji’s clit and press, circling clumsily, and Yuuji’s hips jerk against his will. “You’re so wet. You’re so—god—how can you say you don’t want this when you’re this wet for me—”
“Megumi—” It comes out as a gasp, high and thin.
“You’re dripping.” Megumi’s fingers slide lower, gathering the slickness there, and drag it back up to Yuuji’s clit, rubbing in tight circles that have Yuuji’s thighs trembling. “You’re soaking my hand and you’re still trying to tell me you don’t want this?”
Yuuji’s hands have stopped pushing. He doesn’t know when that happened, doesn’t remember deciding to let them fall to his sides, but they’re gripping the silk of his robes now, knuckles white. His head tips back, exposing the line of his throat, and Megumi immediately presses his mouth there, sucking at his pulse point while his fingers keep working between Yuuji’s legs.
“Tell me to stop.” Megumi’s breath is hot against his neck, his voice ragged. “If you really don’t want this, tell me to stop and I will. But I don’t think you’re going to.” His fingers press harder, circling with more intent, and Yuuji’s spine arches. “I think you’ve been wanting this too. I think you’ve been lying to yourself for years about what you feel when you look at me. I think—” He shifts his hand, and two fingers press against Yuuji’s entrance without pushing in, just resting there, feeling the way the muscle flutters. “I think if I slid my fingers inside you right now, you’d come before I even started moving.”
Yuuji opens his mouth to protest.
What comes out is a moan.
Megumi goes still against him, his breath catching, and for a moment Yuuji thinks he’s won something, that the sound has broken whatever spell has been driving this forward. Then Megumi’s fingers press harder against his entrance, and he laughs, low and disbelieving and hungry.
“There it is.” His voice has dropped, gone rough at the edges. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Megumi, wait—”
“You sound so pretty.” Megumi’s thumb drags up through Yuuji’s folds and finds his clit again, rubbing in tight circles while his fingers stay pressed against the flutter of his entrance. “I used to imagine what you’d sound like. When I was fifteen and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I’d lie in bed and touch myself and try to picture—” His breath shudders out. “But you’re better. You’re so much better than anything I imagined.”
Yuuji’s hands fly up to grip Megumi’s shoulders, nails digging in. “This isn’t—we need to slow down, we need to—”
“I’ve been slow.” Megumi’s thumb presses harder, and Yuuji’s hips buck into the touch before he can stop them. “I’ve been slow for five years. Watching you and wanting you and never being allowed to—” His teeth find the curve of Yuuji’s throat and bite down, just hard enough to sting, and Yuuji yelps. “Do you know what that’s like? Having you right there, close enough to touch, and knowing I couldn’t?”
“You were too young—”
“I’m not too young now.” Megumi’s free hand slides up Yuuji’s back, broad palm pressing between his shoulder blades, and he uses the grip to pull Yuuji closer, chest to chest, until Yuuji can feel the heat of him through both their robes. “I’m the head of this clan. I’m your husband. And you’re—”
He stops. Buries his face against Yuuji’s neck and breathes in, deep and shaky, like he’s trying to inhale him.
“You’re so soft,” Megumi mumbles against his skin. “Everywhere. I thought maybe I was just imagining it, building you up in my head, but you’re—” His hand slides down from Yuuji’s back to his hip, fingers digging into the flesh there. “You smell like—god—you smell like—”
He can’t seem to finish the sentence. His mouth opens against Yuuji’s throat, tongue dragging hot and wet across his pulse point, and he groans like tasting Yuuji’s skin is its own kind of pleasure.
“Megumi.” Yuuji tries to make his voice firm, tries to reach for the calm authority he used to wield over a small furious child. “Listen to me. I know you’ve been—I know this is something you’ve thought about, but that doesn’t mean we should rush into—”
“Why not?”
The question is muffled against Yuuji’s throat, and Megumi’s fingers are still moving between his legs, stroking through the wetness with an aimless greed, like he can’t bear to stop touching.
“Because—” Yuuji’s breath catches as Megumi’s thumb drags over his clit again. “Because you should—your first time should be—”
“My first time should be with you.” Megumi pulls back just far enough to look at him, and his eyes are dark, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any color left. “It was always going to be you. I decided that when I was fourteen.”
“You were a child—”
“I was old enough to know.” Megumi’s jaw tightens. “I was old enough to know that I’d never want anyone else. That every time the elders tried to arrange a match for me, I’d find a way to sabotage it, because the only person I wanted was you.”
Yuuji stares at him. Something cold slides through his chest, a realization settling into place. “The failed betrothals. All those meetings that fell through—”
“I made them fall through.” Megumi’s expression doesn’t flicker. “Every single one. For five years. Until the elders gave up on finding me someone suitable and decided to just—” His mouth twists. “—formalize what was already there.”
“Megumi—”
“You’re mine.” The words come out fierce, possessive, and Megumi’s hand tightens on Yuuji’s hip hard enough to bruise. “You’ve been mine since I was seven years old and you called me sweetheart for the first time. I’ve just been waiting for everyone else to figure it out.”
Yuuji’s throat works. His mind is racing, trying to find the right angle, the right words to slow this down, to make Megumi see reason. “Even so, we don’t have to consummate tonight. The contract gives us a month, and I really do think we should wait until—”
“No.”
The word is flat. Final. And something in Megumi’s expression shifts, the desperate hunger hardening into something else, something that makes Yuuji’s stomach drop.
“I’ve been waiting for years,” Megumi says, and his voice is different now, lower and colder, the voice of a clan head rather than a lovestruck boy. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been good. And now you’re my wife, and you’re wet for me, and you’re still trying to talk your way out of letting me have what’s mine.”
Yuuji’s breath catches. “Megumi—”
“You’re obligated to me.” Megumi’s thumb presses down on Yuuji’s clit, hard, and Yuuji’s whole body jerks. “The contract is very clear. You belong to the clan head, and I get to decide what that means. I get to decide when and where and how I take you.”
The words land like a slap. Yuuji’s eyes go wide, shock rippling through him, because this isn’t—Megumi doesn’t talk like this, Megumi has never—
“That’s—” Yuuji’s voice comes out thin. “You can’t just—”
“I can.” Megumi’s fingers speed up, rubbing his clit in fast tight circles, and his other hand slides up from Yuuji’s hip to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place. “I’m the head of the Zenin clan. I can do whatever I want. And what I want—”
He leans in close, his lips brushing Yuuji’s ear, and his voice drops to a whisper.
“What I want is to make you come on my fingers and listen to you try to pretend you didn’t love it.”
Yuuji opens his mouth to argue, to protest, to say something, but Megumi’s fingers slip lower and press inside him without warning, two at once, and the stretch punches the air out of his lungs in a sharp cry. Megumi groans against his ear, his whole body shuddering, and he curls his fingers and strokes against the front wall with clumsy desperate pressure.
“Fuck.” Megumi’s voice cracks, that cold authority crumbling into something rawer. “You feel—god—you’re so tight, you’re so wet, I can feel you squeezing—”
Yuuji can’t breathe. Megumi’s fingers are thick and hot inside him, stretching him open, and Megumi’s thumb finds his clit again and rubs in circles while his fingers curl and press and stroke. The pleasure is sharp and sudden, a coil tightening low in his belly, and his hips are rocking into Megumi’s hand without his permission, chasing the sensation even as his mind scrambles to catch up.
“Megumi—wait—I can’t—”
“You can.” Megumi’s fingers drive deeper, rougher, and his palm grinds against Yuuji’s mound on every thrust. “You’re going to. Right now, on my hand, just like I said.”
The pace is relentless. Megumi fucks into him with a desperate intensity, no finesse, just raw hungry need, his fingers curling against that spot inside with every stroke. Yuuji’s thighs are shaking, his hands scrabbling for purchase against Megumi’s shoulders, and he can hear himself making sounds he doesn’t recognize, high and broken and helpless.
“That’s it.” Megumi’s breath is ragged against his ear, his voice wrecked. “That’s it, let me hear you, I want to hear—”
His thumb presses hard against Yuuji’s clit and his fingers curl inside, hitting that spot with devastating accuracy, and Yuuji’s spine arches off the tatami as the orgasm crashes through him without warning.
He comes with a sound that’s almost a sob, his whole body clenching tight around Megumi’s fingers, wetness flooding out around his knuckles. Megumi keeps moving through it, keeps stroking and rubbing and pressing, drawing it out until Yuuji is shaking and gasping and pushing weakly at his chest because it’s too much, it’s too intense, every nerve ending screaming with overstimulation.
“Stop—” Yuuji’s voice comes out wrecked, barely audible. “Stop, I can’t—”
Megumi’s hand stills, his fingers still buried inside. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving against Yuuji’s, and when he pulls back to look at him his expression is dazed, awestruck, like he can’t believe what just happened.
“You came.” His voice is hoarse, almost reverent. “You actually—I made you—”
Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut, face burning. His whole body is still trembling with aftershocks, and he can feel Megumi’s fingers twitching inside him, can feel the wetness soaking into the silk beneath them.
“Yuuji.” Megumi’s free hand cups his face, tilting it up. “Look at me. Please.”
Yuuji opens his eyes.
Megumi is staring at him with something huge and overwhelming in his expression, that cold authority from before completely gone, replaced by raw adoration and hunger in equal measure. His thumb strokes along Yuuji’s cheekbone, gentle now, reverent.
“That was—” Megumi swallows hard. “I’ve thought about that so many times. What you’d look like. What you’d sound like.” His fingers shift inside Yuuji, just slightly, and Yuuji whimpers. “But I never—I couldn’t have—”
He stops. Leans down and presses his forehead to Yuuji’s, breathing unsteadily.
“I’m not done,” he whispers. “I need—I need more, I need to be inside you properly, I need—”
Yuuji’s heart is still racing, his body still shaking, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that this is only the beginning.
Megumi withdraws his fingers slowly, and the drag against Yuuji’s oversensitive walls makes him gasp, his hips twitching away from the sensation. Megumi watches his own hand emerge, watches the slick strings of wetness connecting his fingers to Yuuji’s cunt, and his expression goes dark with something Yuuji doesn’t want to name.
“Present yourself.”
Yuuji blinks. His mind is still hazy, still scattered from the orgasm, and the words don’t land right. “What?”
“Present yourself.” Megumi’s voice has gone flat again, that cold clan-head tone that doesn’t belong on a face Yuuji still remembers as round-cheeked and pouting. “On your knees. Face down.”
Yuuji stares at him. “Megumi, I don’t—”
“I said present yourself.” Megumi’s hand closes around Yuuji’s hip, grip bruising, and he doesn’t wait for compliance. He flips Yuuji over with one sharp movement, using his weight and leverage to roll him onto his stomach, and Yuuji’s hands fly out to catch himself against the tatami, a startled sound punching out of his chest.
“Wait—”
Megumi’s hands find his hips and drag them up, pulling until Yuuji’s knees are beneath him and his ass is raised in the air. The robe is tangled around his waist, the silk pooling in the dip of his spine, and Megumi shoves it higher with impatient hands, baring Yuuji from the waist down.
“Megumi, stop—” Yuuji tries to push himself up, tries to turn, but Megumi’s palm lands flat between his shoulder blades and presses down, pinning his chest to the tatami. The position is obscene, his ass in the air and his face against the floor, and Yuuji can feel the cool air of the room against the wet heat between his legs.
“Stay.” The word is a command, sharp and absolute. “Don’t move.”
“This isn’t—” Yuuji’s voice comes out muffled against the tatami, his face burning. “You can’t just—”
“I can do whatever I want.” Megumi’s hands slide down to grip his ass, fingers digging into the flesh, and he spreads him open with a rough carelessness that makes Yuuji’s whole body flush with humiliation. “You’re mine. The contract says so. The elders say so. And now I’m going to—”
He stops. His breath catches, and his hands tighten on Yuuji’s ass, holding him spread.
“God.” The word comes out strangled. “You’re so wet. You’re dripping, I can see it running down your thighs—”
“Megumi—”
“I’m going to taste you.”
Yuuji’s stomach drops. “What? No, wait, I just came, I can’t—”
Megumi ignores him. He leans down, and Yuuji feels his breath first, hot and damp against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and then Megumi’s mouth is on him.
The sound Yuuji makes is sharp and wounded, his whole body jerking against the press of Megumi’s palm on his back. Megumi’s tongue drags flat and hot through his folds from behind, licking up the wetness that’s gathered there, and the groan he lets out vibrates against Yuuji’s oversensitive flesh.
“You taste—” Megumi’s voice is muffled, wrecked. “Fuck, you taste so good, I knew you would, I knew—”
He licks into Yuuji again, hungrier this time, his tongue pressing between his folds and stroking up toward his clit. The angle is different from behind, everything exposed and open, and Yuuji can feel Megumi’s nose pressing against his entrance while his tongue works lower, can feel the wet sounds of his mouth and the vibration of his groans.
“Stop—” Yuuji’s hands scrabble against the tatami, trying to find purchase, trying to push himself up. “Megumi, stop, I’m too sensitive, I can’t—”
Megumi’s response is to grip his hips harder and pull him back against his mouth, burying his face between Yuuji’s legs. His tongue pushes inside, hot and slick, and Yuuji’s spine bows as a broken cry tears out of him.
“I’ve thought about this.” Megumi pulls back just far enough to speak, his lips brushing against Yuuji’s cunt with every word. “For years. What you’d taste like. What sounds you’d make if I put my mouth on you.” His tongue drags up through Yuuji’s folds again, slow and savoring. “You’re better than I imagined. Sweeter.”
“Megumi, please—” Yuuji doesn’t know if he’s begging him to stop or continue, his body confused and overwhelmed, nerves screaming with overstimulation even as pleasure sparks up his spine with every stroke of Megumi’s tongue.
“Please what?” Megumi’s teeth graze against the sensitive skin beside his entrance, and Yuuji yelps. “Please keep going? Please make you come again?” His tongue presses flat against Yuuji’s clit from behind, rubbing in slow circles. “You’re going to, you know. I can feel you clenching around nothing. Your body wants it even if you won’t admit it.”
“I just came—” Yuuji’s voice cracks. “You can’t expect me to—”
“I can expect whatever I want.” Megumi’s grip on his hips tightens, fingernails digging crescents into the skin. “You’re my wife. You’re supposed to give me whatever I ask for. And right now I’m asking you to come on my tongue.”
The words land like a blow, and Yuuji’s breath catches in his throat. This isn’t—Megumi doesn’t talk like this, Megumi is the boy who used to stomp his feet when Yuuji teased him, who blushed all the way to his ears at the word “betrothed,” who—
Megumi’s tongue pushes inside him again, deeper this time, and all of Yuuji’s thoughts scatter.
The muscle is thick and hot and impossibly wet, curling against Yuuji’s inner walls and dragging along the sensitive tissue in slow deliberate strokes. Megumi pulls back until just the tip remains inside, traces the rim of Yuuji’s entrance with maddening precision, then plunges deep again, the flat of his tongue pressing against the front wall in a way that makes Yuuji’s thighs jerk and his hands scrabble uselessly at the tatami. The texture is overwhelming, soft and firm at once, slick with saliva and Yuuji’s own wetness, and Megumi moves with a single-minded focus that leaves no room for Yuuji to catch his breath.
He pulls out and licks a broad stripe from Yuuji’s clit all the way up to his entrance, slow and savoring, and Yuuji can feel every ridge and groove of his tongue dragging through his folds. Megumi’s nose bumps against his entrance at the apex of the stroke, and he inhales, deep and shuddering, before reversing course and licking back down with the same torturous patience. When he reaches Yuuji’s clit he doesn’t just press against it, he wraps his lips around the swollen bud and sucks, tongue flicking against the tip in quick tiny movements that make Yuuji’s spine bow and a high wounded sound tear from his throat.
“You’re shaking.” Megumi sounds smug now, satisfied, his lips dragging against Yuuji’s folds as he speaks. “Your whole body is shaking. You’re close, aren’t you?”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me.” Megumi’s tongue returns to his entrance and pushes inside, curling up against the front wall and stroking in small circles, and Yuuji’s hips jerk backward into his face before he can stop them. “I can feel it. You’re getting wetter. You’re clenching around my tongue. You want to come so badly you can’t even hold still.”
“Stop talking—” Yuuji’s voice comes out thin, desperate.
“Why? Does it embarrass you?” Megumi’s laugh is low and mean, a sound Yuuji has never heard from him before. “The great Yuuji, face-down and ass-up, dripping all over his husband’s face. What would the elders think if they could see you like this? Their precious contracted consort, moaning like a whore because a teenager is eating him out.”
The words hit Yuuji like ice water, shock rippling through him. His head turns, trying to look back over his shoulder, and he catches a glimpse of Megumi’s face between his thighs, mouth wet and eyes dark and expression twisted into something hungry and cruel that doesn’t belong on features Yuuji still thinks of as a child’s.
“Megumi—”
“Eyes forward.” Megumi’s hand comes up and pushes his head back down, pressing his cheek to the tatami. “You don’t get to look at me. You just get to take what I give you.”
Yuuji’s chest heaves. His eyes are burning, something hot and complicated building behind them, and he doesn’t know if it’s humiliation or arousal or some toxic combination of both. Megumi’s mouth returns to his cunt, and this time he doesn’t tease. He seals his lips over Yuuji’s entrance and fucks his tongue inside with quick shallow thrusts, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room, and Yuuji can feel the orgasm building despite himself, coiling tight in his belly.
“I used to watch you in the bath house.” Megumi’s voice is muffled against him, the confession spilling out between strokes of his tongue. “I’d find excuses to be there when you were. I’d watch you through the steam and think about what I’d do if I could touch you. If I could put my hands on you and my mouth on you and make you—”
He pulls back and drags the flat of his tongue from Yuuji’s entrance down to his clit, pressing hard, then circles the swollen bud with just the tip, around and around in tightening spirals until Yuuji is whimpering with every breath. One hand slides around to cup Yuuji’s mound from the front, fingers spreading his folds open wider, holding him exposed.
“I’d jerk off thinking about it.” The words are filthy, shameless, nothing like the flustered boy who used to shriek at being called sweetheart. “In my room, at night. Thinking about eating you out until you cried. Thinking about fucking you until you couldn’t walk. You have no idea how many times I came imagining this exact thing—”
“Stop—” Yuuji’s voice breaks on the word. “Megumi, stop, I don’t want to hear—”
“Too bad.” Megumi’s tongue pushes inside him again, thick and hot, and he curls it against the front wall while his thumb finds Yuuji’s clit and rubs in tight vicious circles. “You’re going to hear all of it. Every dirty thought I’ve had about you for the past five years. And you’re going to come while you listen.”
Yuuji wants to argue. He wants to push Megumi away, wants to turn around and grab him by the shoulders and shake him until the boy Yuuji remembers resurfaces from beneath this hungry stranger. But his body won’t cooperate, his limbs heavy and trembling, and the pleasure is building too fast, Megumi’s tongue and thumb working together with devastating effect.
“Come for me.” Megumi’s voice is rough, commanding. “Right now. On my face. I want to feel it.”
Yuuji’s hands curl into fists against the tatami. His thighs are shaking violently, his breath coming in sharp gasps, and he can feel himself tightening, clenching, everything drawing up toward a peak he doesn’t want to reach but can’t seem to stop.
“I said come.” Megumi’s thumb presses hard against his clit, rubbing in vicious circles, and his tongue plunges deep and curls. “Now.”
The orgasm rips through Yuuji without his permission, crashing over him in waves that make his vision white out at the edges. His whole body seizes, clenching around Megumi’s tongue, and a sound tears out of his throat that’s closer to a scream than a moan. Megumi groans against him and keeps licking, keeps stroking, drawing out every spasm until Yuuji is sobbing into the tatami, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
“That’s it.” Megumi sounds wrecked, reverent, his mouth still pressed against Yuuji’s cunt. “That’s it, give me all of it, I want—”
He doesn’t stop. Even as the orgasm fades into oversensitivity, even as Yuuji whimpers and tries to pull away, Megumi’s hands hold his hips in place and his tongue keeps working. He licks into Yuuji with long slow strokes, cleaning up the wetness that’s flooded out of him, and Yuuji can feel it dripping down his thighs, can feel himself soaking Megumi’s chin and jaw.
“Megumi—” Yuuji’s voice is destroyed, barely a whisper. “Please—I can’t—”
“One more.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” Megumi’s tongue drags through his folds, and Yuuji’s oversensitive flesh throbs with every pass. “You will. Because I’m telling you to.”
Yuuji wants to argue, but he can barely form words anymore. His body has gone liquid, boneless, held up only by Megumi’s hands on his hips. The tatami beneath his face is wet with tears and drool, and he can feel more wetness sliding down the insides of his thighs, can hear the obscene slick sounds of Megumi’s mouth working between his legs. Everything is too much, every nerve ending screaming, and yet the pleasure keeps building, keeps cresting, Megumi’s tongue relentless against his swollen flesh.
“Look at you.” Megumi’s voice is rough with something that sounds like awe. “You’re a mess. You’re dripping everywhere, you can barely hold yourself up.” His tongue circles Yuuji’s clit, slow and deliberate. “You’ve come twice and you’re still getting wetter. Your body knows who it belongs to even if you won’t admit it.”
Yuuji presses his forehead to the tatami and squeezes his eyes shut, tears sliding down his cheeks. His thighs are trembling so hard the muscles are starting to cramp, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take, doesn’t know if there’s anything left of him to give.
Megumi’s tongue pushes inside him again, thick and hot, curling against that spot on the front wall. His thumb finds Yuuji’s clit and rubs, and the dual sensation punches a broken sob out of Yuuji’s chest. He can feel himself clenching around Megumi’s tongue, can feel the wetness flooding out of him with every stroke, and his hips are moving on their own now, rocking back against Megumi’s face in small desperate twitches.
“That’s it.” Megumi sounds breathless, urgent. “That’s it, come on, give me one more, I need to feel you—”
The third orgasm hits like a wave breaking, slower than the others but deeper, rolling through Yuuji’s body in long shuddering pulses that make his vision blur and his mouth fall open around a soundless cry. He clenches hard around Megumi’s tongue, his whole body seizing, and wetness floods out of him in a rush that soaks Megumi’s face and drips down onto the tatami beneath them.
He’s still clenching, still shaking, when Megumi pulls back and something blunt and hot presses against his entrance.
Yuuji’s eyes fly open. “Wait—”
Megumi pushes inside.
The stretch is immediate and overwhelming, nothing like fingers or tongue, Megumi’s cock thick and hard and splitting him open with a single relentless thrust. Yuuji’s breath punches out of him in a sharp cry, his hands scrabbling at the tatami, and his body clenches reflexively around the intrusion, the aftershocks of his orgasm milking the length that’s suddenly buried inside him.
“Fuck—” Megumi’s voice cracks, breaks. His hands grip Yuuji’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place while his cock throbs inside him. “Fuck, you’re so tight, you’re still coming, I can feel you squeezing—”
“Megumi—” Yuuji’s voice comes out wrecked, barely human. “I wasn’t—you didn’t even—”
“Had to.” Megumi’s hips jerk forward, pressing deeper, and Yuuji feels the stretch intensify as his body struggles to accommodate the girth. “Had to be inside you. Couldn’t wait anymore, I needed—”
He pulls back an inch and thrusts in again, harder, and the sound Yuuji makes is high and broken and nothing like words. His body is still trembling from the orgasm, still clenching and fluttering around Megumi’s cock, and every thrust sends sparks of overstimulation shooting up his spine.
“You’re so small.” Megumi’s voice is awed, reverent, completely at odds with the brutal grip of his hands and the relentless roll of his hips. “I always knew you were smaller than me now but I didn’t—I couldn’t—” His cock drags against Yuuji’s front wall on the next thrust, and Yuuji’s spine arches involuntarily. “You feel so small inside. So tight. Like you were made to take me.”
“Megumi—” Yuuji’s voice cracks. “Slow down, I can’t—”
“You can.” Megumi leans forward, draping himself over Yuuji’s back, and the new angle drives him deeper, the head of his cock pressing against something that makes Yuuji see stars. “You can take it. You’re going to take all of it.”
His chest is hot against Yuuji’s spine through the tangled silk of the robe, and Yuuji can feel how much bigger Megumi is now, his shoulders broader, his body heavier, pinning Yuuji down with effortless weight. The boy who used to fit under Yuuji’s arm has grown into someone who can cover him completely, and the realization makes something twist in Yuuji’s chest.
“So good.” Megumi’s mouth finds the back of Yuuji’s neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. “You feel so good, I knew you would, I knew—” His hips snap forward, harder, and Yuuji cries out. “All those years I thought about this. What it would feel like to be inside you. Whether you’d be this tight, this wet, whether you’d make sounds like this—”
Yuuji’s hands curl into fists, his forehead pressed to the tatami. He can feel every inch of Megumi inside him, can feel the way his body is stretching to accommodate the thickness, the way his walls are clenching and fluttering around the intrusion. It’s too much, too fast, his body still wrung out from three orgasms, but Megumi doesn’t slow down, just keeps thrusting with a desperate urgency that leaves no room for Yuuji to catch his breath.
“You’re doing so well.” Megumi’s voice is ragged against his ear, his hips working in a rhythm that’s slowly speeding up. “Taking me so well. My perfect little wife.”
The word “little” lands strange in Yuuji’s chest. He used to be the big one, the one who loomed over a small furious child with eyes too serious for his face. Now that child is buried inside him, stretching him open, murmuring praise against his skin like Yuuji is something precious to be cherished even as he ruins him.
“Megumi—” Yuuji doesn’t know what he’s asking for. His voice is barely a whisper, lost beneath the wet sounds of Megumi’s cock driving into him and the harsh rasp of their breathing. “Please—”
“Please what?” Megumi’s teeth graze his earlobe, and his hips slow to a deep grinding roll that presses his cock against every sensitive spot inside Yuuji’s body. “Please stop? Please keep going?” His hand slides around to cup Yuuji’s mound, fingers finding his clit and rubbing in slow circles. “Please make you come again?”
Yuuji whimpers. His body is responding despite the exhaustion, despite the overstimulation, heat building low in his belly as Megumi’s fingers work his clit and his cock drags against his front wall with every thrust.
“You’re going to.” Megumi sounds certain, possessive. “You’re going to come on my cock, and then I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to keep it inside you all night.” His fingers speed up, rubbing in tight vicious circles. “You’re going to fall asleep with me still inside you, and when you wake up I’m going to fuck you again.”
Yuuji’s breath catches. His hands uncurl from fists, fingers spreading flat against the tatami, and he realizes he’s stopped fighting. His body has gone pliant beneath Megumi’s weight, his hips tilting back to meet every thrust, and he can’t tell anymore if he wants this to stop or never end.
“That’s it.” Megumi’s voice is warm against his ear, satisfied. “That’s it. Just let me have you.”
Yuuji wakes to the slow drag of something thick inside him.
His eyes open to pale morning light filtering through the shoji screens, the room soft and gray with early dawn, and for a moment he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling. There’s a fullness in his belly, a deep aching stretch, and something is moving, sliding out of him with agonizing slowness before pressing back in, and his body clenches around it reflexively, still half-asleep.
Then his mind catches up.
Yuuji’s head jerks down, and he sees it: his legs spread wide, one hooked over Megumi’s hip, and between them the thick length of Megumi’s cock disappearing into his body with each slow thrust. The sight punches the air out of his lungs. He can see where they’re connected, can see the swollen pink of his own flesh stretched tight around Megumi’s girth, can see the slick shine of wetness coating them both. His cunt looks used, puffy and red, and there’s dried fluid crusted on his inner thighs, evidence of everything that happened before he lost consciousness.
“Megumi—” His voice comes out wrecked, barely a croak.
“You’re awake.” Megumi’s voice is rough with sleep but his eyes are sharp, alert, watching Yuuji’s face with an intensity that makes his stomach flip. He’s propped up on one elbow, his body curved around Yuuji’s from behind, and his hips roll forward in another slow deep thrust that makes Yuuji gasp. “Good. I was starting to get bored fucking you while you slept.”
Horror washes through Yuuji, cold and sharp. “How long have you—”
“A while.” Megumi’s hand slides down Yuuji’s belly, fingers splaying possessively over the soft skin below his navel. “You were so tired you didn’t even stir when I put it back in. Just made this little sound and squeezed around me.” His hips snap forward, harder than before, and Yuuji cries out. “I’ve come twice already. You’re full of it.”
Yuuji’s hand flies down between his legs, and his fingers find the place where Megumi’s cock is buried inside him, find the slick mess of fluids leaking out around the shaft. His face burns with humiliation.
“You can’t just—while I was sleeping—”
“You’re my wife.” Megumi’s voice is flat, matter-of-fact. “I can do whatever I want.” His hand slides lower, fingers finding Yuuji’s clit and rubbing in slow circles that make his hips jerk. “And what I want is to keep fucking you until my cum is dripping down your legs. Until you can’t walk. Until everyone in this compound knows exactly what I spent our wedding night doing to you.”
“Megumi—”
“I’m not letting you out of this room.” Megumi’s teeth find the curve of Yuuji’s shoulder and bite down, hard enough to make him yelp. “Not until I’m satisfied. And I don’t think I’m going to be satisfied for a long, long time.”
He pulls out almost all the way, the drag of his cock against Yuuji’s oversensitive walls making Yuuji whimper, and then drives back in with a thrust that shoves Yuuji up the futon. The pace changes, no longer slow and languid but hard and fast, Megumi’s hips snapping forward with a force that makes the wooden frame creak beneath them.
“You took me so well last night.” Megumi’s voice is rough against his ear, punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “Came so many times I lost count. Cried so pretty when I filled you up.” His fingers press harder against Yuuji’s clit, rubbing in vicious circles. “But I don’t think you’ve had enough. I don’t think you’re going to be able to walk today even if I stopped right now.”
Yuuji’s hands fist in the sheets, his body jolting with every thrust. He’s sore, aching deep inside, but the pleasure is building anyway, sharp and insistent despite the rawness. “Megumi—please—”
“Please what?” Megumi laughs, low and mean. “Please stop? Please keep going? You keep saying please but you never finish the sentence.” His cock drives deep, hitting something that makes Yuuji’s vision blur. “Maybe you don’t even know what you want anymore. Maybe you just want me to decide for you.”
Before Yuuji can respond, Megumi pulls out entirely, and Yuuji gasps at the sudden emptiness, his body clenching around nothing. Then Megumi’s hands are on him, gripping his hips and flipping him onto his back with effortless strength, and Yuuji barely has time to process the change in position before Megumi is pushing back inside, sinking into him in one long thrust that punches a broken moan from his chest.
“There.” Megumi’s weight settles over him, pinning him to the futon, and his hands find Yuuji’s wrists and drag them up above his head, holding them there with one broad palm. “Now I can see your face.”
Yuuji stares up at him, chest heaving. Megumi looks wrecked, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild, but there’s something triumphant in his expression, something satisfied and hungry at once. He looks like someone who’s gotten exactly what he wanted and has no intention of letting it go.
“You’re beautiful like this.” Megumi’s free hand cups Yuuji’s face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. “All flushed and fucked out. I used to imagine what you’d look like underneath me.” His hips roll forward, grinding deep. “You’re better than I imagined.”
“Megumi—” Yuuji’s voice breaks. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to handle this Megumi who looks at him with such naked want and speaks to him with such casual cruelty. “I can’t—I’m too sore—”
“You can.” Megumi’s thumb presses against Yuuji’s lower lip, dragging it down. “You will. Because I’m your husband and I’m telling you to take it.”
He starts to move again, setting a rhythm that’s punishing in its intensity. Each thrust drives deep, the head of his cock pressing against Yuuji’s cervix, and Yuuji can feel the bruises forming on his hips where Megumi’s fingers dig in. The wet sounds fill the room, obscene and slick, and Yuuji can hear himself making noises he doesn’t recognize, high keening whines that spill from his throat with every impact.
“That’s it.” Megumi’s voice is rough with approval. “Let me hear you. I want the whole compound to know you’re mine.”
Yuuji tries to stifle the sounds, tries to press his lips together and hold them in, but Megumi’s hand slides down to his throat and squeezes, just hard enough to make his breath catch, and the next moan tears out of him louder than before.
“Don’t hide from me.” Megumi’s grip on his throat tightens briefly, then releases. “I’ve waited too long for this. I want to hear every sound you make.”
The pace increases. Megumi fucks into him with single-minded intensity, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that leaves no room for thought, and Yuuji’s body responds despite the soreness, pleasure building sharp and bright in his core. His legs wrap around Megumi’s waist without conscious decision, heels digging into his lower back, and his hips tilt up to meet every thrust.
“Look at you.” Megumi sounds breathless, awed. “Wrapping your legs around me like you want to keep me inside. Like you can’t get enough.” His hand slides between them, fingers finding Yuuji’s clit. “You pretend you don’t want this but your body tells the truth. You’re so wet I can feel it dripping down my balls.”
Yuuji whimpers, face burning. He wants to deny it but he can’t, not when his hips are rocking up to meet Megumi’s, not when his body is clenching around Megumi’s cock like it never wants to let go.
“Cum for me.” Megumi’s fingers speed up, rubbing his clit in tight vicious circles. “Right now. I want to feel you squeeze.”
The orgasm hits without warning, crashing through Yuuji in waves that make his whole body seize. He cries out, his back arching off the futon, and Megumi groans and fucks him through it, driving deep with every pulse of his clenching walls.
“Good.” Megumi’s voice is ragged. “So good. Again.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
He doesn’t give Yuuji time to recover. He pulls out, flips Yuuji onto his stomach, and drags his hips up until he’s on his hands and knees. Then he’s pushing back inside, sinking deep from behind, and Yuuji’s arms give out immediately, his chest dropping to the futon while his ass stays raised.
“That’s better.” Megumi’s hands grip his hips, holding him in place. “Now I can really fuck you.”
And he does. The pace is brutal, Megumi’s hips slamming forward with enough force to shove Yuuji up the futon with every thrust, and the angle is deeper like this, the head of his cock dragging against Yuuji’s front wall on every stroke. Yuuji can do nothing but take it, his face pressed into the sheets, muffled moans spilling from his lips.
“You’re gaping.” Megumi sounds fascinated, almost reverent. “Every time I pull out I can see inside you. See how wet and pink you are.” He pulls out almost all the way, holds there for a moment, and Yuuji feels the cool air against his exposed flesh before Megumi drives back in with a thrust that makes him scream. “You’re going to be feeling this for days. Every time you sit down you’re going to remember what I did to you.”
Yuuji sobs into the sheets. His body is on fire, every nerve ending alight, and he can feel another orgasm building despite the overstimulation, the pleasure so sharp it’s almost painful.
“Megumi—” His voice is barely recognizable. “Please—I need—”
“What do you need?” Megumi’s hand slides around to cup his mound, fingers finding his clit. “Tell me. Use your words.”
Yuuji can’t. His mind is blank, scoured clean by sensation, and all he can do is push his hips back against Megumi’s, trying to take him deeper, trying to get more of the friction he desperately needs.
“You don’t even know, do you?” Megumi sounds smug. “You’re so fucked out you can’t even think. All you know is you want more.” His fingers press hard against Yuuji’s clit, rubbing in fast circles. “Go on then. Take what you need.”
Yuuji’s hips move on their own, rocking back to meet Megumi’s thrusts, grinding down against his fingers. He can hear himself making sounds, desperate whimpers and broken moans, and he can feel Megumi’s cock hitting deep inside him with every stroke, and the orgasm is right there, cresting—
He comes with a wail, his whole body clenching, and wetness floods out around Megumi’s cock, soaking them both. Megumi groans and keeps fucking him through it, keeps driving into him even as Yuuji shakes and sobs.
“One more.” Megumi’s voice is rough. “You can give me one more.”
“I can’t—”
“You will.”
He pulls out, and Yuuji collapses onto the futon, boneless and trembling. But Megumi doesn’t let him rest. He grabs Yuuji’s ankle and flips him onto his back again, then hooks both legs over his shoulders, folding Yuuji nearly in half. The position opens him up completely, makes him feel utterly exposed, and when Megumi pushes back inside the angle is so deep Yuuji swears he can feel it in his throat.
“Fuck.” Megumi’s voice cracks. “You’re so tight like this. So small.” He pulls back and drives in again, and Yuuji watches his stomach bulge slightly with the depth of each thrust. “I can see myself inside you. Can see my cock pressing against your belly.”
Yuuji looks down, and his breath catches. Megumi’s right. He can see the outline of him through the thin skin of his lower abdomen, can see the way it shifts with every thrust. The sight is obscene, almost unreal, and a fresh wave of heat rolls through him.
“You were made for this.” Megumi’s pace increases, his hips snapping forward with brutal force. “Made to take me. Made to be my wife.” His hand slides between them, fingers finding Yuuji’s clit again. “I’m going to fill you up so many times today. Going to fuck you until you’re pregnant with my heir. Until everyone knows you belong to me.”
Yuuji’s head tips back, his eyes squeezing shut. His body is moving without his input now, hips tilting to meet Megumi’s thrusts, cunt clenching around his cock with every stroke. He’s given up fighting, given up pretending he doesn’t want this, and his hands reach up to grip Megumi’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Yes—” Megumi sounds wrecked, triumphant. “That’s it. Hold onto me. Let me feel you want it.”
Yuuji’s nails dig into Megumi’s skin, and he feels the muscles shifting beneath his palms as Megumi fucks into him with increasing desperation. The wet sounds are obscene, the slap of skin against skin echoing through the room, and Yuuji can feel himself tightening again, another orgasm building impossibly fast.
“Cum.” Megumi’s command is ragged. “Cum with me. Right now.”
His hips slam forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and Yuuji feels the hot pulse of him spilling inside, feels his own body clenching in response as the orgasm tears through him. They shake together, locked in place, and Yuuji feels the warmth flooding his insides, feels it seeping out around Megumi’s cock and dripping down onto the futon beneath them.
Megumi collapses on top of him, breathing hard, his cock still twitching inside. For a long moment neither of them moves.
Then Megumi’s hips shift, and Yuuji realizes with dawning horror that he’s still hard.
“We’re not done yet.” Megumi’s mouth finds his ear, his voice rough and satisfied. “I told you. I’m not letting you out of this room until I’m satisfied.”
Yuuji closes his eyes and feels Megumi start to move again, and thinks distantly that he might not survive his wedding night after all.