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Megumi hated peak hour. He hated the crush of bodies, the stale air, and the sticky warmth of other people’s breath.
But nooo, his precious boyfriend didn’t want to call Ijichi for a lift. Instead, he’d insisted that they should take the subway because they can spend more time in each other's company.
Which, okay, was sweet. Megumi did blush at the time and internally swoon, the whole lot, because wow, his boyfriend was so taken with him that he’d rather take the hard way home to spend more time with Megumi?
And hard it was, indeed.
Megumi, who was almost crammed against the door, fumed at his reflection in the door. His own angry resting bitch face reflecting back at him just made him more irate.
But no, actually, what truly drove Megumi up the wall was Yuuji’s reflection behind him. He was completely unfazed, both by how packed it was, and seemingly by Megumi’s silent wrath. He was yapping on and on about the mission, and about this new anime he wanted to watch with Megumi, and the fact that he’d spotted Inumaki senpai and Okkotsu senpai kissing in the kitchen, and God knows what else. Megumi didn’t even throw on a pretence of listening, he just stared stiffly at the door.
Every now and then, the train would jolt, and Yuuji’s built chest would end up slammed against Megumi’s back. Yuuji would just apologise sweetly and shoot him an endearing smile. And most infuriating of all, Yuuji looked like he was actually enjoying this, like being crushed together on a crowded train with Megumi was the highlight of his entire day.
Ugh!
“Oh! Gumi, wait—” Yuuji chirped, shifting around to fish his phone out of his pocket, already unlocking it with his thumb. “I gotta show you this TikTok I saw. You’re gonna love it.”
Before Megumi could tell him that no, he would not, in fact, love anything right now, Yuuji stepped in even closer. Pressed right up against him with such a carefree, casual ease, as if he wasn’t skating on the edge of Megumi’s rapidly thinning patience.
Yuuji’s chin hovered over Megumi’s shoulder, close enough that he could feel the brush of his breath along the sensitive line of his neck. In any other circumstance, this would’ve been cute, Megumi reckoned. But not in this one.
Then Yuuji lifted his arm, bracing his phone in the narrow space between them so that they could both see the screen.
Except Megumi didn’t look.
He pointedly, stubbornly, brattily kept his gaze fixed on the grimy metal frame of the subway door, even as Yuuji’s arm boxed him in, even as Yuuji excitedly gushed, “Look, look, this part’s funny,” right against his ear.
Megumi didn’t move. He didn’t blink. In fact, he didn’t even pretend to care.
It took a full fifteen seconds for Yuuji’s cheerful commentary to stutter to a halt. Another two for confusion to creep in. Megumi felt, more than saw, the way Yuuji leaned forward the slightest bit, just enough to peer at the side of his face.
“…Gumi?” Yuuji asked quietly, his voice softening with dawning awareness. “You’re not watching.”
Megumi still refused to turn his head. His jaw flexed, glare staying glued to the door.
Only then did Yuuji finally realise something was wrong. His warm breath hitched against Megumi’s shoulder, with concern overtaking his earlier brightness.
“Hey,” he whispered, shoving his phone away, “baby look at me. What’s wrong?”
Megumi just tilted his chin a fraction higher. It was barely perceptible, but anyone who knew him as well as Yuuji did would recognise it instantly. It was the Megumi-equivalent of slamming a door in someone’s face.
Yuuji’s stilled for a moment, then, as if realisation finally dawned upon him of his boyfriend’s horrid mood, he wrapped his arms around Megumi’s frame and pushed his face deeper into the crook of his neck, clearly disregarding social etiquette and courtesy. Megumi had to swallow hard and wished the butterflies in his tummy could be exterminated with some industrial strength poison.
“Oh,” Yuuji said cheekily against the warm skin of Megumi’s neck. “So that’s how it is.”
Megumi continued ignoring him with the commitment of a monk.
Yuuji, unfortunately, was not a monk.
Yuuji was a menace.
“You’re really not gonna look at me?” he murmured, voice dipped into that soft, teasing register he knew made Megumi’s pulse stutter.
Megumi’s jaw tightened, but other than that, he gave no other outward reaction.
He could feel Yuuji’s grin widening. Of course he was finding new ways to piss off Megumi, as if he wasn’t pissed off already!
“You’re being kind of bratty, you know,” Yuuji whispered, voice rough.
Megumi bristled. What a rude little shit. He was so tempted to give Yuuji a piece of his mind, but decided against it.
Then, without any warning, he felt Yuuji’s large hands lazily roam down his hips, before slightly tucking themselves under his jacket and settling over his waist, skin-on-skin.
Megumi went rigid.
Now, pretending the subway door was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen wasn’t just for the sake of being difficult.
It was because Yuuji, being the little shit that he could be at times, had very clearly found his new thing of amusement. And Megumi was absolutely aware of the meaning of his soft touches that absolutely no one should be doing on a packed train. Megumi’s ears burned as Yuuji’s fingers drew little coaxing circles over his waist.
Yuuji exhaled a laugh through his nose, warm and unbearably sly. “You’re really committed to ignoring me, huh?” he said with amusement. His hand slid just a little closer to Megumi’s stomach, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his pants, the movement tugging them down a little as a result.
Megumi’s breath stuttered for a split second. Despite the sheer inappropriateness of it all, Megumi’s heart raced, not due to panic, but the thrill of their proximity. The train was packed, yes. Everybody and their mama was looking at their phones, yes. Nobody was paying attention to them, yes.
But they could, and at any moment.
“Gumiiii,” Yuuji sing-songed, intentionally brushing his lips in a subtle kiss (or at least, he hoped it was subtle) on Megumi’s jaw, “you don’t want me to look at you? Then you look at me!” he giggled.
The dichotomy of his boyfriend always took him by surprise, how at one moment he could be as bright and silly as sunshine, and within the next, as sultry as sin.
And hey, for the record, Megumi could say something. He could tell Yuuji to back off, for absolute starters.
He could snap at him. Could elbow him. He could remind him, sternly, logically, like a functioning adult, that they were in public and Yuuji had no business touching him like this on a train packed with strangers.
He could do all of that.
But where was the fun in that?
Megumi’s pulse thudded traitorously against his throat, heat crawling up the back of his neck. Yuuji’s hand was still resting on his hip, thumb stroking slow circles over his skin that made Megumi’s thoughts fizz and spark like faulty wiring. Every touch against his skin nudged something reckless inside him.
Because the terrible and incriminating truth was that Megumi liked this.
He liked the slow ascent of sexual frustration building with every second he refused to acknowledge Yuuji.
Liked the way Yuuji tried harder and harder the quieter Megumi became.
It was a stupid thing to enjoy.
A bratty, chaotic, absolutely unproductive thing to enjoy.
But Megumi Fushiguro had never claimed to be a saint.
And he was, in fact, a thrill-seeker in his own quiet, stubborn, self-sabotaging way.
Yuuji’s hand slid from his hip to the flat of his stomach, palm warm. He tugged him back just a little, enough that Megumi was pressed fully against him, back to chest, every line of him fitted to Yuuji like a puzzle piece.
“You’re killing me,” Yuuji murmured with a grin. “Just one word. C’mon.”
Megumi’s pulse kicked so hard he felt it in his teeth. But he still didn’t turn around.
Yuuji’s breath brushed his ear again as he said, softer, sweeter this time, “so you wanna be like that, yeah? Say less.”
The maddeningly affectionate tone, the bedroom voice, Megumi liked to call it, made his breath catch, body alight from the pure want that ran down his spine and down to his cunt.
Let it be known that Megumi tried, he really did try to keep his body and its reactions under control, but instinct kicked in, and he pressed his thighs together slightly. Or, at least he thought it was subtle.
Yuuji’s hand, warm and heavy on his lower stomach, paused. “…Gumi?” The teasing in his voice twisted into something intrigued and deeply aware. “What was that?”
Megumi refused to answer.
If anything, he tightened his thighs more, trying and failing to keep a straight face, all the while heat pooled low in his tummy. But, of course, his body betrayed him, hips shifting minutely back into Yuuji’s, seeking pressure he absolutely could not justify.
Yuuji’s breath stuttered against his ear.
“Megumi?” he exhaled, wonder and delight mixing in a way that made Megumi want to sink into the floor (and maybe onto his knees). “Oh, you’re really doing this to me on purpose.”
Yuuji dipped his head, lips brushing just beneath Megumi’s ear, voice quiet enough that only Megumi could ever hear it over the train’s rattle.
“Are you getting a little worked up? Yuuji murmured, sounding far too pleased.
Megumi inhaled sharply, way too sharply.
Yuuji grinned against his skin. “That’s a yes. God, you’re gonna drive me insane.”
Then Yuuji’s hand slid even lower. Megumi’s breath hitched. Yuuji’s mischievous smile against his ear grew slowly.
“No one can see,” he whispered, tone dipping warm and dark. “You know that, right?”
Megumi stared straight ahead, face burning, thighs pressed so tightly together his muscles trembled.
He said nothing.
He couldn’t say anything this time, in case the whimper he was holding back made itself known to the world at large.
So Yuuji, naturally, took the silence as permission.
His fingers toyed around with the waistband of his pants, as if to assess if there was a belt or not. Upon realising that the only obstacle, hardly an obstacle, was just the elastic of his pants, they crept inside. Right past the elastic of his pants and panties, one finger at first, then a second, then his entire hand, brazenly cupping his soaked pussy.
Megumi’s knees almost buckled, and he had to slap a hand over his mouth to hold back any noise.
“Gumii,” he whispered, sounding both reverent and absolutely feral, “you’re so wet.”
Megumi’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Quickly, he looked around to check if anyone had heard, but thankfully found nobody looking in their direction.
Yuuji rested his forehead lightly against Megumi’s temple, breath warm and uneven. “Won’t you talk to me?” Yuuji cooed, fingers rubbing his clit in a slow, dizzying circle that made Megumi gasp into his hand before he could stop himself.
Megumi squeezed his thighs together again tightly, trying to muffle the rush of heat that surged at the touch. As a result, Yuuji’s fingers were tightly trapped between his folds.
Yuuji’s breath shuddered. “Yeah, alright,” he whispered hoarsely, “keep doing that and I won’t make it to the next stop.”
And, because Megumi was truly a brat™ to his core, Yuuji’s warning only spurred him on further. Slowly, he moved back and forth over Yuuji’s fingers, daring him to go further.
“Don’t complain later,” was the only warning Megumi received before the fingers cupping his pussy started to rub fast circles over his clit.
Megumi’s teeth clenched down on his lip so hard it swelled immediately, stinging his senses. Yuuji was relentless and ruthless from the get-go, as if he’d taken Megumi’s vow of silence personally.
The train swayed a little, causing Yuuji’s fingers to press into his swollen clit harder. The friction sent sparks through him, and Yuuji’s restraint cracked. His hand moved faster now, thumb circling over Megumi’s clit with ruthless precision.
Megumi’s eyes rolled back slightly as his chest heaved, legs shaking and all. He was trying so hard to be quiet, but Yuuji, that absolute menace, made it impossible. He showed absolutely no signs of slowing down, nor did he show any mercy, despite their very public setting.
It was too much. The pressure built, unbearable, cresting until Megumi’s body arched, the orgasm ripping through him in waves he couldn’t contain.
His breath broke into shuddering, quiet gasps and he quickly bit into the sleeve of his jacket, thighs clamping tight around Yuuji’s hand as the aftershocks pulsed through him.
Yuuji cursed under his breath, the sound rough against Megumi’s ear. The sudden absence of his hand left Megumi trembling, thighs still taut from the strain, heat lingering like a brand.
Before he could gather himself, he felt Yuuji shift—buttons clicking open one by one. The weight of fabric brushed his back, then settled heavy and encompassing as Yuuji’s jacket fell around him. It was oversized, swallowing his frame, the scent of Yuuji clinging to the lining.
Megumi swallowed. He knew exactly where Yuuji was heading with this. Yuuji was always insatiable when they had sex, and now, Megumi had made the mistake of unleashing that beast in public.
And it should have terrified Megumi…? Public sex was an audacious crime.
At the same time, Megumi couldn’t help but want it so bad. He was just as horny as Yuuji. Two peas in a pod or whatever.
“You brought this upon yourself,” Yuuji whispered against his ear, and Megumi shied away, still sensitive from his orgasm.
Megumi stiffened as Yuuji’s hands tugged at his waistband, the slow slide of fabric loosening until his pants slipped a little lower. The oversized jacket still cloaked him slightly, but beneath it Megumi felt exposed.
Then came the tease—Yuuji’s tip dragging across the underside of his soaked panties, the thin barrier offering no real protection. A hot line of pressure deliberately traced over his swollen pussy, each pass slower than the last. It made him feel positively filthy.
Megumi’s thighs trembled, the sensation unbearable in its restraint. It was too soon. He bit down hard into his sleeve which had, at this point, become his chewtoy, refusing to give voice to the sound clawing at the base of his threat.
Yuuji’s breath ghosted against his ear, jagged and uneven. The weight of him pressed close, the steady drag of throbbing cock against wet pussy leaving Megumi suspended between anguish and anticipation. At this point he just wanted Yuuji to hurry up and put it in so that the torture would be over.
As if hearing his pleas, Yuuji withdrew a little to push his soaked panties to the side, before immediately pressing his cock back, like a moth drawn to flame, like he couldn’t stay parted from his cunt for long.
The barrier was gone.
Megumi felt Yuuji’s tip catching his hole before slowly pushing his length inside inch by inch, the intrusion overbearing and overwhelming. Megumi gnawed on the sleeve of his chewtoy jacket as if to distract himself from the inevitable onslaught of his pussy.
The first thrust was shallow, testing, the tip dragging against his hole with precision. Tears welled up in Megumi’s eyes at the stretch. Of course they fucked daily, but the sheer girth and length of Yuuji was always impossible to accomodate to.
Yuuji pushed in until he bottomed out, then pulled back just enough to leave him aching. The train’s sway only heightened the torment, every jolt pressing him tighter against Yuuji’s hips. The teasing pace built slowly, each thrust deeper, each withdrawal cruelly incomplete, until Megumi’s silence was hanging by a thread.
“Still nothing?” Yuuji panted roughly, but it was still quiet.
The next stop arrived, and Yuuji and Megumi both froze. Yuuji withdrew his arms from around Megumi’s chest, but remained lodged deeply into him. Megumi used the distraction to spitefully clench his cunt around his length, causing Yuuji to jolt. It sent a delicious lick of heat and satisfaction down his spine.
The cramped space finally eased up as many of the other passengers departed, allowing Megumi to let out a short sigh of relief. He hadn’t bothered looking at anyone around him, so he had no idea if people had even noticed. He could only hope they hadn’t.
As soon as the doors shut, Yuuji’s arms wrapped around Megumi once more, and the torment by way of shallow thrusts began again.
His thighs quivered, muscles straining to hold steady, but the rhythm was merciless. Yuuji pushed forward, then pulled back just enough to leave him aching, the tease deliberate and cruel.
Megumi’s breath split into uneven bursts, chest heaving beneath the weight of the jacket that cloaked them both. Sweat dampened his temples, the sting of his bitten lip grounding him against the flood of sensation.
The overstimulation was intense and impossible to contain. Each thrust blurred into the next, a rhythm that left his body trembling, thighs clamping tight, nerves screaming. When Yuuji bottomed out, he would grind his cock into him, as if wanting it to reach every crevice, before pulling out and repeating the action. Megumi’s vow of silence was held by sheer force of will, but the way his body violently shuddered spoke volumes.
The pressure suddenly built too high, the overstimulation and forbiddenness of it all too unbearable. A choked sound tore free, rough and wanton, his lips finally parting around the name he had fought so hard to swallow.
“Yuuji,” Megumi moaned lewdly, eyes fluttering shut as his head tipped back to rest on Yuuji’s shoulder.
The word broke him. His walls convulsed once more, climax ripping through him in violent waves. He was long gone at this point to care about the potential consequences of his actions.
Yuuji froze for only a heartbeat, then all restraint vanished for him too. His hips snapped forward, harder, deeper, pounding into Megumi with a rhythm that was no longer careful but desperate. It was a little too late to think about public decorum now.
Megumi’s breath came in ragged sobs, voice spilling broken sounds he could no longer contain as Yuuji’s literal monstercock abused his poor pussy. Just the way Megumi liked it.
Yuuji’s breath was harsh against his ear, each exhale a growl. “Fuck, I love you,” he rasped, punctuating the words with another brutal thrust that made Megumi’s knees buckle.
The train jolted again, amplifying the rhythm, pressing them tighter together. Megumi’s senses blurred as his body convulsed, overstimulated, climax tearing through him yet again, weaker but no less consuming.
Yuuji’s voice broke into a guttural sound, his rhythm faltering. His hips slammed forward one last time, burying himself deep, and then he was undone, climax ripping through him with an audible shudder. Megumi sniffled, holding back another sob as he felt the hot gushes of Yuuji’s spend coat his insides.
Finally, Yuuji was done, but he remained lodged in Megumi as he pressed his forehead to Megumi’s neck, breathing harshly. He could feel Yuuji’s impossible amount of seed spilling out and slowly slicking up his thighs.
Megumi’s breath was still uneven, his body trembling as the aftershocks ebbed. Slowly, strength returned to his legs, enough for the fog to dissipate. He dared to lift his head and glance around.
The carriage wasn’t empty. A handful of passengers remained, their eyes fixed on him and Yuuji, expressions sharp with disapproval. The weight of their glares hit harder than any thrust, burning into his skin, making his stomach drop.
Wide‑eyed, Megumi jerked forward, dislodging himself from Yuuji’s hold. The jacket slipped awkwardly against his shoulders as he turned back around, panic flooding his veins.
“Dude, we’re screwed,” he hissed urgently under his breath.
Yuuji, bless him, was still out of it. His eyes had glazed over, and he blinked sluggishly. “What?” he slurred out.
Megumi glared, then with his eyes, gestured behind them. It took Yuuji a moment to glance around, eyes finally landing on the handful of passengers glaring daggers their way. Megumi’s stomach dropped further, but Yuuji only blinked, as if the weight of their stares barely registered.
Instead of panicking, Yuuji just let out a giggle, shoulders rolling back. He turned back towards Megumi, tugged his pants up with lazy movements, and shrugged like it was nothing.
“What’s done is done,” he muttered, voice still hoarse.
Megumi stared at him, wide‑eyed, the contrast between his own frantic dread and Yuuji’s post‑coital haze almost dizzying. Still, Megumi couldn’t help but find Yuuji’s nonchalance kinda hot. Gosh, Megumi could be an absolute slut for his boyfriend sometimes.
“You’re horrible,” Megumi snapped weakly and without any conviction.
Yuuji just reached out and squeezed Megumi’s face, rolling his cheeks around with childish insistence.
The gesture was ridiculous, disarming, and Megumi’s panic faltered under it. His lips pressed together, cheeks squashed, eyes narrowing in reluctant exasperation.
“You’re so cute,” Yuuji sighed fondly.
*
Turns out, the passengers had, justifiably, taken very deep offence to their little public display.
Because now, Megumi and Yuuji were sitting in a holding cell, charged for public indecency.
Megumi’s arms were crossed over his chest and he was sitting at the opposite side of the cell, glaring at Yuuji (and completely ignoring his own willing participation as well). He stopped speaking to Yuuji, again, just because he could.
Yuuji had a sad, kicked-puppy expression on his face, and Megumi’s resolve was crumbling by the minute.
Thankfully, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, causing Megumi’s stare to snap away from Yuuji.
When the figure finally appeared, Megumi’s stomach sank. Gojo stood in front of their cell, hands in his pockets, grinning wide enough to split his face. His posture screamed ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.’
“Well, well, well,” Gojo drawled, leaning casually against the bars. “My star pupils, locked up together. I always knew you two had chemistry, but this is next level.”
Megumi’s ears burned. He turned away, refusing to dignify the comment.
Yuuji lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Hey, Gojo sensei,” he said awkwardly.
Gojo’s grin widened. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to the higher‑ups why my boys are in jail for public indecency? I mean, really—on a train? That’s bold. That’s performance art.”
Megumi snapped his head back around, eyes wide. “Shut up.”
Gojo pressed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Oh, don’t be shy now. You weren’t shy earlier, were you? Half the carriage got a free show.”
Yuuji let out a pained noise.
Megumi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”
Gojo clapped his hands together, delighted. “This is perfect, I’m never letting you live this down. Next mission briefing? I’m opening with ‘Remember when you two got arrested for rail‑rated R?’”
Megumi muttered something unintelligible into his palms.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bail you out. But I’m telling everyone,” Gojo cackled.
Megumi’s head snapped up, horrified. “You wouldn’t.”
Gojo’s shit-eating grin was blinding. “Oh, I would.”
The cell door clanged as the guard approached with keys, and Megumi’s dread only deepened. Gojo straightened, stretching like a cat, still grinning ear to ear.
“Come on, lovebirds,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s get you out of here. You’ve got reputations to ruin.”