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So far, Yuuji’s birthday was going better than expected.
His birthday was usually miserable; so miserable he’d started “forgetting” to tell his friends the date, trying to be as vague as possible so as to not garner the attention. Even so, he’d never really cared for the day anyway—he was always grateful for gifts, and all the affection he received felt like way too much. Plus, it was at the end of Pisces season—and Kirara told Megumi who told him that it was apparently a tumultuous time, especially for the Pisces-Aries cuspers. Whatever that meant.
But that didn’t matter today, because he spent almost the entire day lazing about with Megumi (his boyfriend! A fact he would never let anyone forget), who never insisted they go out. All they did was go on a little date, a quaint little coffee shop just south of Yuuji’s apartment, and nudge feet beneath the table.
Maybe setting his expectations low was the way to go—or, maybe he enjoyed any day when Megumi was involved. They had drinks; they discussed the most recent Human Earthworm movie that his partner claimed to hate, but actually loved; they shared fond smiles and Yuuji laughed a little too loud…
So far, it was perfect. Not a single complaint—just bliss in the arms of his favorite person in the world.
Now, he was getting home from grabbing groceries, preparing for dinner that night. Megumi didn’t want to go with him (reasonable, he knew he got overwhelmed and irritated) and he kissed his hairline and left him at home, reading a book with his glasses low on his face. They spent most of their time at Yuuji’s place, and even though only two-ish months had passed, it felt like they'd been together for years. (Well, that’s what Yuuji had in store, anyway—a long, lust filled life where they took care of each other and all that bullshit).
Bags weighed him down, and he dropped them in the kitchen before calling out for his boyfriend. There was no response, and he tried again with a nickname: “Bunny? You home?” He started putting the groceries away, hovering by the open fridge for a moment when he was met with more silence. “Baby? Hello?” He yelled again, and his stomach dropped when there was no response again.
He couldn’t be anywhere else—he didn’t have a car, and he hated people, and he said he’d be here when Yuuji got back. The shower wasn’t running, the bedroom door was cracked, and why was his throat cinching with anxiety?
Throwing everything into the fridge as fast as he could, Yuuji rushed to the bedroom in half a panic, worried about every possibility of Megumi dead or kidnapped or having left out of the blue. He flung the door open, and his head went fuzzy, vertigo from the blood rushing down his body.
Megumi was sitting at the foot of his bed, his messy hair hiding his face as he looked away, down at the floor where one of his dirty t-shirts was crumpled. He always looked beautiful in the lamplight, yes, but tonight Yuuji thought he might’ve been poisoned.
Because Megumi was sitting at the foot of his bed, his hair messy, his body perfectly warmed by lamplight, wrapped in a red ribbon that squeezed the slight curves of his frame, sealed with a pretty bow at his hip. The little divots on his upper arms where the fabric hugged him too tightly, the jut of his waist as it cinched the smallest part of him—all of it was too much, far too much. And, the most brain melting part: the way his sharp hips framed his delicate cock, bound to his stomach, the leaking head peeking from the wrap.
“Hi, tiger.”
It was within this moment, for the first time that night, that he was sure of it: he was in love with Fushiguro Megumi.
“Happy birthday.” The incubus waiting for him added with the smallest of smiles. “Sorry it’s not a puppy; I’m your gift this year.”
For some reason, he didn’t spring into action. He was completely frozen, shell shocked, brain broken. Any higher thought he might've been capable of was completely silenced. It was an instinct, a prowl, a vision of prey wading in a meadow of barely blooming lupine while he kept as quiet as possible. One step too loud, one second too soon, he’d lose this painting and the boy who waited in it. But somehow, he made it close enough to hold his face, and his tedious ferocity waned.
Yuuji fell to his knees. The thunk of his knees rattled the legs of his desk, but the pain didn't come—it never did, not with Megumi. He simply stared up at him, his breath hastening when he leaned against his icy thigh. There was too much spit in his mouth, and he tried to swallow it before he started drooling.
“Good boy.” Megumi's smooth, honeysuckle voice made his entire body tremble.
Yuuji breathed over a swallow, trying not to drool, “Am I dreaming?”
The little smile, his fond half laugh like baby’s breath the way it slipped from his throat. “No, stupid, I’m here, and I-” he looked off, bared his teeth shamefully, “I tied myself in a ribbon and I feel like an idiot because why the fuck would I—”
Ever so gently, like Megumi was made of porcelain, he kissed his inner thigh. He had to check, because he must have been dreaming with how beautiful and open and heavenly his lover was. He was afraid to look up, to find that they were surrounded by columbines, half asleep and rooting to his subconscious. But he was real—he was cold, and smooth shaven, and shivering where their skin met.
“God, you’re beautiful—you're perfect, you’re- I’m- you’re perfect.” He stumbled, realizing that yes Megumi’s his entire reality and these past two months hadn’t been an elaborate trick of his mind. Biting his leg, he sighed into his skin, smelling the salty, herbal remnants of his soap. “Wh- I… I thought you freaked out if you were tied up.”
“I do, usually.” He let Yuuji pull his knee over his shoulder as he marked the inside of his it, “But, I dunno,’ it's you, I’m not scared of you.”
That broke his heart a little, just knowing that Megumi had to be scared of the guys in his past. Luckily, the overwhelming affection in his “it’s you,” was enough for him to well up. “But, aren’t I a huge, ferocious tiger that pounces to eat you alive?” He chuckled into his skin, looking up through his lashes, flushed at just how soft Megumi was looking at him.
“You?” He cocked his head, raised a brow, and Yuuji saw his hands twitch, itching to touch him, “You’re more of a house cat.”
“Ouch,” he smiled into skin, biting into his partner’s artery, listening to the quiet gasp, a gust of warm wind that cracked his heart open. “Can I at least be a really docile tiger who's so obsessed with you I roll over instantly?”
Megumi fidgeted with the bedsheets, “That’s the one.” He sighed, and Yuuji pulled his other leg over his shoulder. Sucking and biting and licking and worshiping his winter bunny beauty was his version of heaven, and he never wanted to leave. When his partner's breathing picked up, he heard the pout in his voice, “You’ve only gotten half your present. You gonna’ unwrap me, or what?”
Suddenly perked up, he bit the low part of his thigh, kissed up his leg, and secured the pretty bow between his teeth. He pulled until it came undone, grinning, shiny like a fool wanting to be praised. The ribbon loosened, and slipped off his partner’s arms, finally giving him the mobility to touch.
With hands in his hair, Yuuji might have been purring, “Wh- what’s the rest, hm?” He stumbled, and Megumi tugged at his hair, forcing him to look up, marveling at his beauty. “You- I mean, hah, this is already more than- than I could’ve asked for already… mm’you- you’re perfect.” The long, neat nails dragging across his scalp were maddening, and he tried to keep speaking, but it all came out in fractured mumbles.
Megumi shushed him gently, “No, no, puppy, don’t try to speak… It’s pathetic.” Despite the loaded words, he might as well have been telling him he loved him. He raised his chin with two fingers, guiding him as he lumbered to stand, heavy, waiting, and desperate. He fell forward, caging Megumi in between his palms. Gorgeous beneath him, hair splayed out like dying spider lilies, Yuuji was ready to obey his every command. “Ready for your next gift?”
“Mm- mhm…” he nodded fervently, eyes glazed over with lust.
“Tonight…” Megumi held his face, pulled him down until their lips were just millimeters apart, breath tickling each other's skin, “you’re going to let me do anything I want to you.”
A strangled moan broke from his throat, and he caved, pressing their lips together. His eyes watered as he finally tasted the oleander on his tongue. They’d been together all day, and somehow, he yearned for him like he’d they’d been apart for years. His chest pulled and his skin stung where Megumi’s hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer than possible.
That was the second time that night that Yuuji was sure of it: he was in love with Fushiguro Megumi. He was going to marry this boy.
He was so in love that the moment his touch trailed down his stomach, he wrenched his shirt off, and his sweats alongside it. Truth be told, he hated being seen naked, but Megumi looked at him like one would a statue, which made everything much easier.
Most times Megumi would trail his hands and lips and tongue down his chest, drinking his sweat, sweet honey gathering along his skin. He would admire his back muscles and run his nails along the skin, tickling thistles that always made him shiver. He would pinch his ass in passing, drool over his cock, adjust the collars of his shirts, ride him until one of them went limp, and run his fingers through his hair at the end of the day.
It was so full of affection that it made him raw. It hollowed him out and left him a thoughtless husk driven only by sensation. Even now, as he let Yuuji attack his neck, his teeth digging into his artery, he wanted to wrap his palm around his heartbeat. Because his hands were in his hair, gently dragging his nails against his scalp, and he shivered as he bit down on his throat.
Yuuji had never considered himself very possessive. He was level headed. Understanding. Trusting, even. But with Megumi, it was different. He left marks wherever people could see them—his neck, his collar, his shoulders. He was starting to love early spring because not only were the poppies sprouting on the side of the road, everyone could see the hyacinth lovebites blooming above his collar. People needed to know that he was claimed, taken, when Yuuji stood beside his bruised prize in public.
Licking up the skin of his sternum, Megumi let out a pleased hum when he sucked a mark right on his heartbeat. “Fuck, you're so beautiful. I- I,” love you, want to give you the world, “Fuck.”
Hissing when Yuuji licked his nipple, circling it, before biting just beneath his peck, his grip tightened in his hair. “You can do better than that.”
He bit the space between two of his left ribs, “I’d do anything for you,” the space between the two bony cages locking all the flowers and love and thorns in Megumi’s chest, “I’d probably die for you,” the skin just beneath the silver bar peeking from his navel, “But I’d like to keep living so I can see your face in bed every morning.”
A moan wracked his lover’s chest when he licked the piercing through the tip of his cock. Back on his knees before the bed, he pulled his thighs back over his shoulders and let spit drip along his leaking head. “That’s sweet, tiger.”
“What? My willingness to die for you, or my giving you head as a gift to myself?”
“You wanting to give me head as a gift to yourself.” In a sudden motion, he was yanked up by the hair, the pain making him yelp. Megumi leaned up to him, letting their noses brush, “Do you really think you’ll be making any decisions tonight?”
A whimper, partially fear, partially pleasure as the sharp tug sent blood straight to his cock. “M- maybe a couple.”
“No. You won’t be.” He spat, as if Yuuji were an idiot. Hot. Pulling away, his fingertips slid along his jaw and raised his chin the slightest bit, drawing him in. “Get on your back.”
Obeying without question, he flopped on his back, smiling when Megumi bounced a bit with his shifting weight. “Anything for you, bunny.”
“Mm, cute,” he leaned down to kiss him quickly, in the fleeting way, how tulips bloom for that perfect, single week every March. “But, don’t you dare die for me. Don’t even think about it. I'll kill you so fast.”
He pulled off a small piece of ribbon still tied around his wrist, and Yuuji snatched his arm to kiss him again. He bit, and bit, and bit, until a gore of red ringed bites remained. “I won't, baby, I won’t.” He dug his teeth into his upper arm, “You’re stuck with me.”
“Good.” Wiggling out of his grasp, he snapped the waistband of Yuuji’s briefs, “Off.” His one word commands made him swoon, and he obeyed—because what was he if not his loyal, drooling pet? When he was short like this, unwavering with what he wanted, it meant they'd be going all night, and receiving an imminent complaint from his neighbors.
The ribbon he pulled from his wrist was loose in his hands, and he sat on his knees to fasten it around Yuuji’s cock. “Wh- oh…” He was still only half hard, but the touch of his lover’s fingers already made him twitch and grin like an idiot. “Yay…” he murmured, already stupid with bliss.
A genuine, all too rare laugh bubbled from the other man’s chest, and he tied the red silk with his slim, delicate hands, pressure veering on uncomfortable. “You’re way too excited knowing what I’m gonna’ do to you—too tight?” Yuuji shook his head no, so enthusiastic he could die. “You’re useless…” He grumbled, securing him with a neat bow, and patted his sternum.
“You’re pretty.” He sighed as Megumi reached into the dresser drawer, and he brushed the back of his leg with his knuckles.
“So I’ve been told.” He dropped their lube on the bed, let it rest beside the ribbons he’d been wrapped in minutes before. Yuuji propped himself up to bite his thigh, leaving a poppy red welt on his skin, then teeth marks on his ass, then— “Sta- stop it, tiger.” He batted at his head, and he flopped back onto the top sheet.
Whining, he grabbed the crook of his hip when he sat back down, thumb pressing into that cute little bunny tattoo Nobara did long before they met. (It was charming how all of his body modifications were done by one of two women: Kirara or Nobara, and he wanted to personally thank them for adding to Megumi’s already natural beauty.)
“But bunny—” he dragged out that final, whiny sound, “I need my mouth on you. To taste you, ugh, I need—” Completely untouched thus far, Yuuji was growing desperate, losing his mental footing when faced with his partner’s vicious (sexy, incredible, fitting, heartwarming) dominance.
An annoyed sigh made him frown, “My God, Yuuji, you talk, and talk.” In a blink, Megumi was straddling his ribs, a succinct hand on his chest. “And I love when you talk,” he patted his cheek, a bit patronizing, “but I’ve been waiting to have you all day, and your mouth is better suited elsewhere.”
Shrugging and raising his brows, he nodded, fair point. When his partner crawled higher on his body, he sighed, “Fuck yes, fuck- fuck, oh my God,” he pulled him, maybe a bit too rough for his position in all this, “you’re too fucking kind.” He bit the inside of his thighs while Megumi got ahold of himself, taking advantage of the moment he was caught off guard. Moaning into his skin, he left as many marks as he could until being pushed down.
Looking up at him, guilty, he mustered his best puppy-dog eyes, and saw the moment that his boyfriend softened. “You’re being bad, you know.”
Grumbling, whiny, wanting, “I just need you—please, please, please… let me eat you alive.”
Megumi scrunched his face, his eyes full of affection, his annoyance only surface level. He clicked his tongue, angling himself above his face, “You’re lucky I’m- fuck!” Sick of being right there and not being able to taste him, he pulled him down, groaning when his tongue pressed against his hole.
A hand slapped against his headboard, another rooted in his hair. Yuuji licked and sucked and slipped his tongue past the muscles, uncontrolled bliss wracking his entire body. The way blood rushed through his cock was almost embarrassing, and he thanked mother nature for the silkworms that spun his makeshift cock ring. He smacked Megumi’s ass, squishing the fat and hastening his pace, letting him rut against his tongue until he completely lost himself.
Moans slipped from his throat, sweet hibiscus and snapdragon sap. Words spilled out in messy phrases. “Fuck, tiger,” and “Good boy,” and “God, your tongue,” made his head spin; though, he wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t breathe—if he was suffocating in his favorite place on the planet. Maybe he was dying, but at least he’d be doing it between the legs of the person he loved, and…
Well, damnit. It was within that moment, for the third time that night, he was sure of it: He was in love with Fushiguro Megumi. Smothered between his legs, tongue-fucking him while he rode his face into oblivion, content to die as a sex toy for the demigod above him. Megumi was riding his face, and he was lightheaded, and madly, sickeningly in love with him.
When Megumi pulled off, he whined, chasing after his hole like the perfect, forbidden fruit it was. He offered a few parting licks, panting when his head was forced down. “But, baby—”
“Jesus, Yuuji, stop misbehaving.” He sighed, winded, before pulling his shaking leg over and kneeling beside his head. “You’re acting like an animal. Are you really that desperate?”
Frowning, exhilarated by his continued degradation, he couldn’t keep the face long before he was grinning like an idiot. “Yes, yes, I am, just for you.” He kissed Megumi’s knee, ran his hands all along his smooth thighs, yearning for their bodies to merge at every bend and joint. “Can I please—”
“No.” He leaned down, cleanly cutting off all of his thoughts with a kiss. It quickly became a mess of tongue and spit and moans while Megumi’s petal soft touch trailed down his chest. Hand dragging along the coarse, dark hair on his stomach and into the curly mess at his base, he kept his fingers light to tease up his shaft.
Gripping his hair like his life depended on it, Yuuji tried to keep his boyfriend as close as possible. He squirmed and panted and whined as he was slowly stroked, teased, and played with by hands that would better be suited digging into his chest and ripping out his heart. There was too much skin separation. He needed more, and he needed Megumi all over him.
“T- touch me,” he begged, hardly recognizing the irony of the request.
He felt Megumi’s little smile, wished he could see it at the same time, “Touch you… where?”
Almost pulling him on top of him, his breath came out pitchy and high, “Anywhere— ev- everywhere. Please.” He moaned when his lip was clamped between teeth, “I need you, I- need you,” he pleaded between kisses, a blithering mess, “need you to touch me more…”
His hand retracted, and he pulled back just enough so Yuuji couldn’t reach him. As much as he wanted to, he would not pull him back down; he had to prove his obedience. “If I do…” he kissed him so softly it might as well have been a breeze, “you’ll be good?”
“Yes, yes…” he steeled himself, took his hands out of Megumi’s hair and reached for the headboard. “I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, just- just keep your hands on me, bunny, please.”
He pulled away, rest his hand on the center of Yuuji’s chest, where his heart raced from when his bitter belladonna spit had slipped into his throat. “Look at you…” he clicked his tongue, affectionate, “I trained you well, didn’t I?” He caressed his face, dragging the soft pad of his thumb across acne scars and spattered freckles, "Anything for you, tiger.”
Megumi mounted his hips, holding his face and dipping down to kiss him. Again, and like every time they kissed, Yuuji knew he needed this man in his life, needed to be caught in his vines until he was cold and dead and buried. His lips veered away, and he licked up his neck, humming as he marked his way down his chest, leaving a trail of foxglove and violet and affection along his skin.
His hands twitched on the headboard, longing to touch, to run his fingers through his hair or feel smooth thighs against his palms. The need burned, a forest fire beneath his skin that flared every time teeth dug into his hip. As much as this felt like torture, he needed this—needed the discipline because, to his core, he was greedy. He knew he’d had more of his share, that he was gluttonous with overwhelming touch-lust that had already been satiated time and time again.
Megumi hummed when his mouth slipped over Yuuji’s cock, pleased and suckling on the tip with a bored, unbothered laziness. Wanting a better view, he took the risk to prop himself on his elbows, tucking his hands behind his back, being sure not to touch, because Megumi didn’t want him to. His tongue slid slowly along his frenulum, over and over, and his head knocked back with the teasing.
“Meg- Megumi…” he tried. Need more, need more, slipped through his mind, stuck like resin on his tongue. His cock bulged in his boyfriend’s cheek as Yuuji furrowed his brows, expecting more from him.
Mumbling into his skin, he sucked some spit back into his mouth, “You gonna’ complain?”
Breath shaking, Yuuji squirmed when his tongue swirled him again. “No, no, th- thank you, bunny. Thank you, thank you—”
He made a little Mm-hmm noise that vibrated against his shaft, held him hostage beneath rapturous forget-me-not eyes. Yuuji swooned every time he watched his boyfriend give him head, admired the way his lashes fluttered as his throat tightened around his length. He knew how badly Megumi wanted to take all of him, heard him complain about how he just couldn’t and he wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not. The slow and almost careless rhythm he set wasn’t solely to get him off; it was to entertain himself, and to torture Yuuji within an inch of his life.
Hips and thighs pinned down, he couldn’t fuck into his mouth the way he desperately wanted to. That poisonous chase for pleasure was what got him punished in the first place. Megumi wanted things slow, for now, and he would obey. Even if it made him a whimpering mess.
“Bunny…” He flopped onto his back again, grabbing the headboard when his lover's throat slipped over him again, and again, and, fuck, again. Sex was effortless for Megumi—every part of it. He was beautiful, he was fun, he was sexy, he was attentive, he was experienced, he was skilled. His voice grumbled as he took him as deep as possible, and one of his eyes twitched. “Fe- feels—” he swallowed, “so good…”
Trying to thrust into his mouth, his hips twitched, but Megumi just dug his nails in. Disappointed eyes made him whimper, cast his head back in bliss. Megumi spent a while playing with him slowly, nails stabbing into his hips, drooling over his cock without another care in the world. He was enjoying himself, and that’s what really mattered to Yuuji.
Until moments later, he pulled off, and his heart skipped when his nails retracted. “Megumi- Megumi— touch- touch me…” He was panicking, thrashing a bit internally, feeling so hollow and cold.
Softly, he replied, “Okay, okay.” Worried, he rested his palm on his stomach. “It's okay, tiger, I’ll- yes, tiger.”
Yuuji whimpered, knowing how helpless he looked, and lucky that his partner was giving him that simple comfort. “Th- thank you, bunny, thank you, thankyouthankyou—”
His lover shushed him gently, “No need to thank me just yet,” he slid his hand up his chest, careful not to break contact to caress his face. Megumi paused for a moment while he nuzzled into his palm, before he hummed, “You’re doing great for me, puppy. Now that you’re listening.”
Yuuji whined, “What? I’m—”
“Do you want a treat, or no?” He clicked his tongue, “I was going to reward you for being so good, but…”
He perked up, “Please, please, bunny,” he kissed his palm over and over, dug his nose into the skin, “please, I’ll be- be good.”
Megumi sighed, leaned down and kissed him with supple, careful touches. His nails scratched up the back of Yuuji’s arms, pulling him down to touch.
And he did—he touched, and touched, and touched while they made out, feeding on each other’s sunlight and ecstasy. Megumi let himself be pushed on his stomach; let Yuuji kiss and bite and suck every part of his skin; let him cover his torso and ass and back and legs in marks that would last for days. He already got away with so much. Now he was allowed to taste and touch and listen to his partner's breath hitch every time he left a mark on the backs of his thighs.
Testing his luck, he spread his cute, tiny ass before dipping his head low, pressing his tongue to his hole and letting out a sigh when he didn't scold him. He gorged himself on the taste of his skin, the sweet, snowdrop sound of his pleasure. Yuuji loved to please—he loved to please Megumi. And hearing the fruits of his labor, every flex of his tongue another twitch, another moan suppressed into the sheet.
Again, like tulips sprouting in the early spring, Yuuji was sure of it: he was in love with Fushiguro Megumi.
Megumi grunted, “Ugh, you’re—” and trailed into a weak moan. As tough as he acted, he was as much of a sucker to desire as Yuuji was. “Such a good boy…”
The praise set him ablaze, and he kept doing what he (apparently) did best: licking, sucking, and groping with that purely selfish desire to worship the person he loved. Megumi was squirming beneath his obsession, legs snapping bent when he slightly increased his pace.
“Fuck- shit, Yuuji, st-” he tried, burying his face in the sheets, reaching back to swipe at his hair. “I’m- Jesus—”
Immediately, he listened, woefully pulling back, repressing his urge to finish him off by biting his own shoulder. He knew the signs, he knew the pitch of his voice, he knew when Megumi was about to cum without a doubt. Beneath him, he fussed and groaned into the pillow, clearly irritated. Trying to soothe, he rubbed up his spine, but his partner keened and zipped air into his mouth.
“You’re so lucky you’re perfect.” Megumi murmured, turning onto his back with a little help from his partner. He stretched a little when he settled, face scrunched the same as it did every morning they woke up together.
Pent up with obsession, Yuuji kissed and marked up his calves, rubbing the arch of his foot before kissing the top of it. His entire body ached, thorns and grape vines cinching his ribs every time he looked at him. The soft expression he wore made him weak, his eyes and throat burning with affection.
“Tiger…” he purred, though a hint of tedium lined his voice, knowing his next move, “You know what to do.”
Indeed, he did, and it meant that, God bless, Yuuji got to prep him. There was a happy balance, now: he got to please him, hands-on, before the real fun began. He grabbed the lube by that messy, spider-lily black head of hair, rubbing his hand along the bend of his lover’s hip.
“Thank you for letting me do this, bunny.” He poured the lube over his fingers, pushing back one of Megumi’s legs to get a better angle. A humiliating string of drool threatened to fall from his lips, and he sucked it back as fast as possible.
Megumi smiled, “You’re welcome, tiger. It’s your birthday, after all. Might as well give you something you really want.”
Circling his hole, the man beneath him shuddered, “I really want all of this. I want you- you treat me how I deserve to be treated.”
“How swee- sh- shit,” his breath was high from the teasing. “You’re so good to me.”
Yuuji's head spun, elated. “C- can I?” Megumi made another small noise of agreement, shutting his eyes before two fingers slipped inside him. The slow, gentle strokes were making him shift and whimper, unnerved and elated with the sensation. He was always a skittish receiver, always anxious to be getting anything for himself if he wasn't in control of it. It made Yuuji feel like he was defiling him somehow, teaching him what it meant to be really fucked, and loved for every part of him.
Another finger, and Megumi covered his mouth, trying to hide his moans into his palm. Yuuji frowned in response, and reached to thread their hands together. He pulled him in, and pressed his boyfriend’s fingers past his lips. He licked and sucked and panted over the taste of his skin, the salt of sweat, the sweet aftertaste of white carnations, wetting his skin to bring their grasps down to his lover’s pretty cock.
With his palm wrapped around Megumi’s knuckles, he started to slowly guide him in stroking himself, the flush across his cheeks poppy red. “You’re greedy. You- you know that, right?” His voice was breathy, lacking any real bite. Now that he was in control of something he seemed more at ease, content with his hand pumping with Yuuji’s supervision.
Crying out when he added a fourth finger, Megumi’s legs flexed and twitched, his voice pitched up to that perfect octave he knew so well. He expected to be told to stop again, but his partner just stroked himself quicker, his back arching off the bed when he commanded, “Don’t stop—fuck, keep—” his entire body tensed, his neck craned and his jaw slack, until the stunning release spilled over him.
Cum splattered on his stomach, and he tightened around his fingers, hole pulsing and fluttering as his moans filled the air. The way he came, too, was pretty. Pretty white primrose splattered across his stomach, pretty peony pink lips struggling to stay tucked between teeth, pretty whistles of wind puffing from his throat. Everything about him was gorgeous, and Yuuji knew better than anyone how blessed he was.
“God, I—” he felt the word almost slip from his tongue, but he caught it between his incisors and chewed it at the stem, “Thank you, thank you.” Yuuji was spoiled, and he needed to show his gratitude. Whether that meant telling him he loved him, or getting him off as many times as he could, Megumi needed to know.
Whimpering as he was slowly fucked by his antsy hand, a few more strings of cum spilled from him, “Fuck, Yuuji—fuck, your hands are—” his words dissolved into heavy breaths. “Okay, okay—” he sighed, grabbing his partner's wrist. “Good job, tiger.”
Internally, Yuuji squealed like a schoolgirl, and he couldn’t even feel silly for it anymore. They paused there for a moment while Megumi twitched and shuddered, before finally (tragically, painfully,) ushering him to pull out. He winced, which just made Yuuji want to touch him more.
But, because he wanted to be good for him, and please Megumi however he wanted to be pleased, he sat back on his knees, waiting for a command. His hands shifted and fidgeted in his lap, trying desperately to keep himself composed.
Of course, he couldn’t. He gently pulled Megumi’s leg up, licked up his shin, bit his calf, kissed the top of his foot. “Thank you for- for, ugh, letting me touch you, bunny.”
“You’re welcome.” He grumbled, still a bit winded. A moment passed, and Megumi knocked his toe against his head. “How are you holding up?” Yuuji whimpered a bit, hummed happily, unable to muster any thoughts outside the scary I love you phrase. “‘Cause we don’t have to keep doing the kink stuff, if you don’t want to. We could relax a bit if you’re not into it.”
Into it? Yuuji had never been more “into” anything in his entire life. “No, please, Megumi.” His voice was serious, “I’m having fun.”
His eyebrow scrunched, “You’re sure? Not just saying tha—”
“Megumi,” he complained, leaning forward, tackling him into a nasty, sweaty hug and jostling him in his arms, “When are you gonna’ realize that I can’t lie for shit?”
Petting his head when they stilled, he pushed back Yuuji’s hair and kissed his hairline, “Okay, whatever…” He propped himself on his elbow, and that dominant look was back in his eyes, sexy and sharp like stinging nettles. He held his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks and turning him like he was appraising a shiny object. “You’re being good tonight, so… What should I do to you, hm?”
Pretending not to tremble with his desire, blessed to be his little plaything for the night. “A- anything. Give me what I deserve.”
Megumi’s lip twitched with a grin, “Well, you have been very needy recently. And you do take my willingness for granted.”
“What?!—”
“—Ah, animals don’t complain—shut your mouth, tiger.” Yuuji whimpered, humiliated by the way his cock twitched from the degradation. Even more humiliated when Megumi noticed, “Look at that, you’re a mess. You’re lucky I have you; how could anyone else put up with this?” He purred, and despite the vicious words, there was a strange sweetness interwoven with the phrases. It was less Nobody else could, and rather, I would kill you if anyone else did.
The romance spliced with his humiliation made him smile, dizzy with how blood rushed down his stomach. He just nodded, bumbling, elated when Megumi rolled his eyes, roughly releasing his face and sitting back to grab the ribbons.
“Fix yourself, tiger,” he commanded, and he straightened himself on the bed, readily raising his hands to rest above him on the bed. Scoffing when he saw his partner submit so quickly, he reached to start binding his hands, attaching him to the bed. The ribbon was silk and smoother than ropes, and he tightened the hold to avoid him slipping free or stretching the fabric—he’d be stuck there, and thank God he’d be stuck there. He wanted nothing more than to be bound beneath him for the rest of his life. Next was his ankles, and it left him completely vulnerable, trapped, and unable to do anything for himself.
Once he was secured and affirmed that he was comfortable, Megumi grabbed one more piece of ribbon, and crawled to his side. He pressed the fabric to his cheek, chafing across the rough skin and acne scars, “Blindfold, or no?” Without even thinking, Yuuji nodded, fervent and far too enthusiastic. Megumi caressed his face, “Pathetic…” before he slipped into a velvety sanctuary of darkness. No more of the forget-me-nots or spider-lillies or poppies that might as well have bloomed in Yuuji’s bedroom when Megumi was there. No more of the subtle, sharp beauty of his boyfriend that made him swoon every time they locked eyes.
The warm body shifted above him, straddling his hips while disembodied palms roved his chest. Smooth blackberry thorn nails covered his collarbones, caressed his neck, and elicited a soft gasp when they trailed gently along his adam’s apple. His mouth hung open, and a memory of a boy spread the thin bramble skin along his crooked bottom teeth with his sticky fingerprints. Breath shaky when hands trailed down his chest, focused on the piercing through his nipple while his back curved with the sensation.
Suddenly a mouth was on him, slowly licking up his chest and neck before growing anxious, ferocious, while canines pierced the length of his throat. Yuuji cried out in pain, the shock through his body so euphoric his eyes stung. It traveled under his skin through his limbs and made his cock flinch, precum dripping down his head. When his partner moaned into his skin, he grumbled in response, almost depressed that he couldn’t touch without being touched.
Megumi whined above him, shifting restlessly, and bit down on the muscle between his shoulder and neck. Again, Yuuji moaned out, halfway to a scream, his entire body flinching as he felt the strain of blood filling his erection. But Megumi pulled away, and muttered, “Oh, shit.”
Yuuji, breathless, tried to form a question but failed, sinuses rushed by the pleasure.
Without words, Megumi caressed his shoulder, making him hiss as he dragged across a fresh, tender hickey. “I, uh… oops,” he chuckled awkwardly. Before he could register it, fingers were in his mouth, and he tasted the sharp tang of copper, skin, metal, his insides. “Happy birthday…”
Flooded with affection and the coinciding agony, he panted, “M- more…” he wasn’t even sure what he was saying, what he was begging for—just that he needed it. “I- I want more.”
“Oh, so you’re crazy.” Megumi scoffed, lighthearted, leaning back over and biting the flexed muscle at the side of his pec. He gasped, hardly able to muster another noise, and he felt a tear slip from his lashes, sinking into the silk. His heart raced, and his partner eased off, the soreness settling into his side. Tongue pressed into the wound, Megumi’s breath tickled his underarm as he sighed, and his fingers brushed across the wound once more, forcing a sharp breath. He held his fingertips to his lips, pressed the blood into his bottom lip before letting him lap the fluid off his skin.
The craving made no sense to him—it just tasted good, felt good, elevated the sensory experience that was Megumi’s version of fun. He ached, the hemlock prickle igniting his skin, quickly dulled, soothed by his lover’s spit, his opium that made him twitch and tingle and feel like dying from how good it felt. “Thank you,” he couldn’t express the gratuity that swelled in his chest, filled him up and perpetually kept him with that heartfelt feeling of ecstasy. “Need, ugh, need more.”
Megumi really scoffed now; he sounded appalled at his request. “No.”
“Baby—”
“Oh, God, don’t start complaining.” He leaned in, brushed his knuckles along his face. Whispering, “Plus, I don’t want to hurt you that bad. At least, not quite yet.”
“But- I want it, I want it, I need it, I need yours—”
“No,” he cooed, a gentle scolding, “You’re going to be patient, and maybe I’ll allow it again.” He clicked his tongue, and suddenly lips were on his, “Though, you are cute when you scream.”
“You’re the crazy one.”
In response, Megumi flicked his nose. “Can’t help that I like to hurt boys, especially the pretty, confident, masculine types.”
“Crazy,” he sang, “and you know it—” his next words: we’re perfect for each other, I love you, I worship you, we're cut off by a quick kiss.
The echinacea twinge in his breath was mind numbing; it fixed the pain pulsing from his wounds and everything he’s ever been hurt by. “That makes us perfect together, no?”
“I worship you.” Yuuji spat, relaxing despite his vulnerable position. He was safe, no matter how adrenaline pulsed through his extremities—even his instincts knew it.
Megumi snorted, that sweet mulberry laugh he wanted to gorge himself on every time he heard it. If he sank his teeth into his throat, would he be able to taste the bittersweet sound? “I know that much, tiger, you don’t have to tell me.” He grabbed something off the bed while Yuuji pouted, wanting to scream the praise over and over until his voice was raw as ivy.
Something popped, snapped, clicked, and cold lube was poured over his cock. He flinched, his body careening with the freezing liquid against his burning skin. “Fuck,” he sighed, and wished he could hide his voice in his palm, tugging at his restraints uselessly.
“Ready?” Megumi shifted above him, stroking his shaft and spreading the lube around. Their bodies were so close, the gap tentative until he was given the go ahead.
Nodding, nodding so hard his entire body moved, he let out a few pants, over excited and husky voiced, “Yes, th- thank you. I’m ready, please—”
Just as he was about to beg, their bodies collided, and Megumi’s insides wrapped around his tip. Their dissonant moans caught in the air, and he slipped a little further down with every heavy breath.
Megumi hummed, “Mm, you prepped me well… good boy.”
Yuuji whined, and reflexively fought his restraints. He wanted to touch him, see him, put his hands on the familiar curve of his hips, the smooth, pretty skin of his legs. It was such a waste, not being able to see his face. All the empty, black space behind his eyes was torturous, and he grit his teeth.
Working himself down, the little noises that his boyfriend let out were all he had to guide him through the new tightness enveloping him. His insides were warm, familiar, and he became nothing but his property the deeper he took him. Megumi let out a sharp, deep groan when he bottomed out, and he felt his partner’s feet twitch where they were tucked beneath his knees.
“God, I’m so fucking sensitive—” his hands roved across Yuuji’s stomach, making him shiver and buck his hips, provoking another moan. “At least you’re good for one thing,” Megumi was met with a whimper, then began to move his hips, rocking against him thoughtlessly.
Soon enough, he was riding him messily, letting their bodies shift and rut against each other while his nails dug into Yuuji’s sides. Listening to his throaty, winded moans made every muscle in his body overwhelmed with energy and riotous tension. The restricted blood flow to his cock wasn’t helping, either. Every tiny cinch and spasm of his partner’s insides crashed over him, bringing him higher and higher until the sativa scent burned behind his eyes.
He devolved into a mess of gasps and hiccups and moans. His arms flexed and he tried to break his restraints over and over to no avail. The deprivation of touch and sight and control was gaining on him, cracking his composure until his entire body flared and tears slipped down his cheeks. His boyfriend’s relentless pace, the sound of the lube squelching as he moved, the smacking of their skin together, their asynchronous puffing, their voices merging, wrapping them in grapevines and ivy—all of it was perfect, overwhelming, and still, he needed more.
“Meg- Megumi, baby—fuck, you’re so—” he couldn’t verbalize himself over the ecstasy, the raw intensity of bliss. Tears still streamed from his face, and it finally grew to be too much. “Bunny, bunny, I need to- I need to see you, need to touch you. Need- need to see you.” He babbled, letting out a pained sob—forced to imagine what pleasure looked like on his lover tonight, terrorized by his horrible, unskilled mind that yearned for his image. “Let me- please—let me see you. I can't- I can't see you, I need- please, please—”
Megumi stilled almost instantly, and his blindfold was off in a blink. Adjusting to the light, he beheld the subtle, worried expression that crossed his partner’s pretty face. He wanted to reach up and touch him, but the inability just made him ravenous, made the places where he could feel his skin more intense.
Palms caressed his face, swiped at his tears, shaky. “Hey, hey, I’m here, you can see me now.” He offered a rare little smile, and Yuuji nuzzled into his palm, eyes glued to the man before him.
The apples of his cheeks were red and sweaty as bleeding hearts, the tint blooming down his neck. His green-blue eyes were the shadowy color of dark ferns while the light silhouetted him from behind—he was ethereal, unreal, a marvel of the springtime lamplight.
Megumi looked panicked, afraid of something, “Are you okay?” He asked, and Yuuji nodded immediately. He was fine—he was perfect, in fact. With Megumi being all controlling and mean and somehow still caring, he had never been better. He just got a little overwhelmed by the blindfold; not being able to see or touch Megumi was some kind of personal purgatory.
“M- m’great…” he breathed, his heart racing, and he sniffled, sinuses overwhelmed. “I- I just need to- to see you…”
Smoothing his light hair back, wiping sweat off his forehead, Megumi soothed him, “I’m here…” there was a certain pain on his face that he hated to see. “We can… we can stop, okay? We don’t have to keep going.”
Shaking his head vigorously, he panicked, “No… don’t- don't want to—don't wanna’ stop.” The prospect of being freed, no matter how much he wanted to touch, would uproot him and tear him apart to nothing but fibers and petals. “Pl- please, I need this, I- keep going, just, gotta’ breathe…”
“Alright, tiger.” He kept petting his head, making Yuuji’s breath come out loud and shaky. Megumi was staring, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, keeping him pinned to the bed more than the silky restraints.
They waited there and breathed, letting his tears dry, his composure returning. All the while, their bodies were still connected, his cock becoming used to waiting inside a body. He might as well be purring at the tightness, the way he occasionally fluttered around him. Every once in a while, he shifted, and he assumed his hips must be hurting when his feet twitched and squirmed.
“Sorry, bunny, I’m jus—”
“Don't apologize.” Megumi cut him off, leaned forward to kiss him, his cheek, his neck, his lips again. “I’m glad you said something,” his voice was soft, “I’d rather you not have a panic attack while we’re fucking, yeah?”
Yuuji smiled, “Yeah, that’d be nice,” he muttered against his lips. “Thanks, baby.”
“Uh-huh,” he pulled back to hover over him, propping himself on his hand. His hair had grown out since they got together, and it framed his face, fell in the same chaotic way it always had; it made him look like a God. Perfectly androgynous and somehow so masculine, a being beyond humans that Yuuji would pray to until the day he died.
It was another one of those moments where Yuuji was so in love with him it hurt. It stung, burned inside him until he thought he might die. He was in love—so, unimaginably in love—with one Fushiguro Megumi.
“Okay,” he sighed, worried he’d start crying again and confessing his love. Not ideal. “I’m- I’m ready now. Keep going. Please, keep—”
Slowly lifting his hips, he continued, slower and more intentional than the messy, desperate pace they'd fallen into earlier. He gave a bleary-eyed smile, a toothy little thing, a little awkward in the way that his smiles always were, the sharp point of his canines on display. Yuuji thought a prayer would slip past his lips, or he’d vomit wolfsbane on the top sheet, or he’d, even worse, tell Megumi that he loved him.
Sitting up, nails dragging down his chest, Megumi’s breath was deep enough to show his ribcage, and Yuuji would’ve done anything to run his thumb along the juts and curves. The tendons in his hips flexed and shifted as he moved. His cock bounced in time, and he held onto Yuuji’s waist to balance himself. He dug his claws in, grunting through his teeth while their bodies found rhythm again.
At some point, Megumi’s hands left his stomach, depriving him of the touch he so desperately needed. He brushed his hair back, clawed at his chest, stroked himself briefly—all devastatingly sexy, but so, so far away. Yuuji needed him, and not just in the colloquial, hyperbolic sense; he needed it, because his stomach clenched and he was getting so close, and getting off would be impossible, futile, miserable without his hands on his skin.
“Megumi—” he complained, wrought with agony, thistles cramming his throat as he choked out the word, “hands- hands, please.” His wrists thrashed against the restraints, and Megumi just kept riding, listening to him begging, chewing on his nails, hugging himself.
The moans he let out became more strained, pushed out of his pretty, marked up throat like a reluctant secret. “No, you'll be fine.” He gritted, and Yuuji moaned when he pushed his hips back down.
“No, no, baby, please let- let me—” he whimpered, his words trailing off into an empty hum. “I’m- let me cum, please, I’m so close—touch me…”
Through labored lungs, filled with allium and love and bliss and all that lived between them, “Don’t…” he snapped, gasping when he forced himself lower, as deep as possible, “tell me what to do. Got it?”
Yuuji nodded, and remembered to suck in the spit that’d been falling from his mouth. He knew he was disgusting: a sex-crazed shell of a man, devout to serving and praising the body of his lover. But his hands, oh, his hands. Megumi had such beautiful hands: cold, sharp, gentle, thin, dainty, delicate, skilled… he wanted to let him rip off every inch of skin and root and muscle on his body.
Relief washed over him for a moment when Megumi moved, hovering over him and planting his hands beside his head. Just out of reach. He knew better than to start snapping with his teeth, but it didn’t stop him from whining and crying and begging.
“Bunny, I need it, please, please—God,” Megumi twitched his bangs out of his face, and he watched a response form on his tongue, just before it fell into the thorny pit of desire. He kept riding him, their eyes locked as they burned for one another. The delphine blue sheen in his lover’s eyes dragged another few tears from his own, hot and wet as he feared he'd finish before he could feel the soft brush of his hands.
The tension in his stomach became almost unbearable. Both the strain against the cock ribbon and his mental fortitude were close to fracturing. Every time Megumi shifted, his body tightened, and he didn’t even register the words he was saying.
“It's okay, tiger, you’ll be fine,” and “Just be patient, for fuck’s sake—hold out for me,” and “Just a little longer,” all sounded like music and wind and a chorus of affection he couldn’t escape. Their eyes never left each other, both of them caught, wound and sewn shut where their bodies pressed together.
Yuuji must’ve been a wreck, because sooner than he thought he deserved, Megumi smoothed back his hair, grabbed his face and wiped his tears. “Good boy—” a strained, stunted moan, “good job, you can cum now.”
The broken noise he let out didn't even register in his own mind, because he finally let himself spill into his partner, who huffed and whimpered above him. Megumi inched his wrist closer where he braced on the sheets, gently ushering Yuuji’s head to bite him, which he took far too gratefully.
A mess of whines and noisy breaths, he sunk his teeth into his lover’s wrist, clamping down so hard he heard Megumi yelp. He came with animal growls and grunts and rabid spit falling from his mouth. The relief of his orgasm was religious, and not in a hyperbolic sense, but in the way that he was licking the blood and skin off of his savior’s flesh. In many, if not all ways, Megumi saved him. He gave him the freedom from himself, from misery self inflicted.
Resolutely, with all the instability in his body, the fragments of what was left of his mind in this moment, he was so sure of it his chest hurt: he was in love with Fushiguro Megumi. So in love with this boy that the bitter breath of hemlock creeping back on his tongue didn’t bother him—the numbness, his poison and paralysis were heavenly. His body stilled and gasped and thrived under his incessant attention, a twitching creature of sensation losing itself in the overwhelm and lust carrying through his release.
Heaving through the careless remains of Megumi’s riding, he tried to compose himself, to quit being a whiny, desperate mess. He failed, miserably so, licking the blood that dripped from his lover’s wrist, happy to be given pieces of him, blood or vulnerability or cum or affection.
He loved the way Megumi lost any control of himself before he came. Mindless, tactless, grasping only for pleasure, running on sheer animalism, instinct, and desire. “Fu- fuck, bunny,” he rasped into the open wound, “I’m- I- thank you.” With the words, and the teeth gouging back into bloody sap, Megumi tightened around him before cum splattered between them, utterly broken and intoxicated as he fell in ruins onto his chest, black hair tickling his neck while he fucked himself through it.
Yuuji barely got a chance to breathe before Megumi pulled off, laughed drunkenly, and pawed around for the lube. “Wh- baby, oh—” his hips jerked into the sensation when the cold liquid poured over him, and it sent shivers of sweat through his limbs. “Fuck- fuck, I’m—”
Still breathless, Megumi’s hands were on him. He sat on his knees, nails along his stomach and chest and sides, his other palm wrapped around his sensitive cock, stroking him past his pleasure. He shivered, thrashed, and let out spills of rotted noises; whining, whimpering, half-screaming for Megumi Megumi Megumi until his voice was raw. It hurt, hurt so bad that it turned him on; it forced him to realize that he was truly nothing, nothing but a body to be sacrificed for his God. He was less than human, he was hardly sentient: sobbing, breathing, miserable, euphoric. It all blended together so deliciously—agony, adoration, serenity—that he couldn’t track which was worse.
“You’re doing so good, Yuuji, baby,” he purred, leaving featherlight scratches up his chest, before toying with his nipple piercing, the perfect way to hold him hostage with his fingertips. Megumi hardly ever called him pet names outside of (his personal favorite that he didn’t quite understand,) “tiger,” and “puppy.” When he did, it drove him absolutely mad, a half step from losing his mind. His back lifted off the bed, and he instinctively retracted from the hand that pleased him, “Don’t run from me, Yuuji, you know better than that…”
A sob cut from his chest, he tried his hardest to obey. “Thank you, thank you, I’m- I- fuck—” his body was so tense, the pain so numb and real—not unlike how touching a sleeping limb felt. Any more words he tried to get past his throat were trapped in sharp raspberry bush silence, his mouth dry and raspy. All he could possibly be was a mess of throaty moans, groans, and suffering that were positively divine.
Megumi muttered his praises, telling him through stuffy ears that he was a good boy and that he was so good for him, and his perfect little puppy. He couldn’t take it anymore—not the tension in his body, not the praise, not the sound of lube and skin squelching, and not the overstimulation that made his legs feel numb. But, he’d try, because he was a good boy, and he’d do this however long he was asked to. It didn’t matter how hard he cried, or how much saliva was pooled on the bed beside him, he’d do everything he could to please him.
Though, the tension building in the low part of his stomach was pulled taut, pulling on him harder and harder until, suddenly, snap. His next release was something he’d never experienced before: a harsh spurt of what seemed to be a mixture of cum and piss that had them both wide-eyed.
Megumi yelped, and retracted both of his hands, tucking them fearfully beneath his chin. “Wh- holy shit!” his voice was uncharacteristically high.
Perhaps Yuuji’s psyche was so melted and disfigured that he misread the signs, but his boyfriend’s look of disgust tore his chest in two. Terror, abject, fear like he’d never seen something so awful and horrifying in his life. And damnit, Yuuji had gone too far—he’d shown just how filthy and horny and desperate he really was.
So, all he could do was sob.
Cry until he couldn’t breathe, so vulnerable and exposed until Megumi untied his hands and he could cover his face. His lungs were full of phlegm and fruit juice and he couldn’t stop the sap dripping from his nose, no matter how hard he sniffled. And, the worst part was that everything had felt so good, had made his mind block out anything other than the stimulation, the love that tore him to shreds every time they touched, and he loved every second of it. He loved him so much it broke him, and those stupid words crowded the back of his sternum, growing around his bones and organs because it’d become so integral, so natural, to him. Loving Megumi had become everything to him.
“Hey—hey, Yuuji, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Megumi sounded so soft, so comforting that he couldn’t help but think he was lying. “I’m so sorry, I’m- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- I should’ve stopped sooner, I didn’t—” he was full of urgency and panic, shifting to lay beside him, wiping his hand on the fabric beneath them to lightly caress his face. “That was too much, I’m sorr—”
Apologies sounded wrong out of his mouth in general, and especially now, because why? “No, no, please don’t apologize, it’s not- it’s not you. I’m just… emotional…” he trailed off, words slurred and wholly unintelligible while he tried to verbalize all the feelings rushing his sinuses all at once.
“I’m so sorry—deep breaths, tiger, breathe—I’m sorry…” he lightly stroked his hair, careful not to use his nails and overstimulate him even more. “I’m… fuck, I’m sorry, Yuuji, I didn’t want to make you cry—”
Yuuji batted at him weakly, finally moving a hand to glide along his ribs. His boyfriend shivered, ticklish, “You shouldn’t be sorry,” he hiccuped, “you’re incredible.”
His voice came out tentatively, timid, “So… is this a good cry?”
Another sob crackled from his throat. He didn’t even know, at this point. “Yes? N- no? I’m… ugh,” he sniffled, burying his head into Megumi’s chest, craving his closeness, blind without it. Stupidly, so, so stupidly, he hid in the skin of his lover’s lungs, pressing into the sharp bones that protected him, “Iloveyou,” he mumbled, just trying to get the words out of his system. It didn’t work—apparently, he needed to be heard; he needed to scream it until his throat bled. The sob he let out was pathetic, loud, heavy, and such a relief it made him lighter.
He could hear how Megumi’s heart pounded, “What was that, tiger? I didn’t hear you.” There was no mocking in his voice, just his casual, questioning tone. No mockery, no mockery, Yuuji had to convince himself.
“I love you, Megumi, all of you and I-” he sobbed again, “I’m sorry, I know it’s early, and I- I know you’re weird about relationships, and-” another raw noise, a cough, and a sniffle, “but I love you, like, more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” He clung to Megumi, afraid he’d bolt hearing the devotion, the honesty in his voice. Sobbing, squeezing his chest so tight he thought he might break him, he relaxed when Megumi shifted to hold him even closer. “I’m- I’m sorry, I promise I’m not just saying this—” He devolved into another fit of sobs, and he couldn’t believe he was breaking down after having his brain completely fried by light BDSM.
Awkwardly tangling their limbs together, he let out a little laugh, scratched his back, soothing him. “Oh… that’s good.” At first deterred, Yuuji feared he’d be left floundering and alone with his chest flayed open wide. “‘Cause I… ugh—” he cut himself off, his voice shaking, “I’m sorry, I’ve never said this to anyone, and… ugh, I- I love you, too, tiger—and fuck it being ‘early,’ why does that matter?”
Yuuji sobbed into his skin, his breathing coming in gasps and cries. There was a calm that settled over him, and air filled his lungs fully.
“Jesus, Yuuji, you scared the shit out of me…” Megumi muttered, a slight scolding tone, “I thought I broke you, that you were gonna’ leave me…”
“Whaaaa?” Yuuji’s voice pitched up, “Nah, I’m- I want…” he sniffled, “I want a life with you. How gay is that?”
Megumi hummed a laugh, continuing to fidget with his hair, and he could imagine him staring off at the wall, lost in thought.
“I- uh, you can… not agree with that. We don’t have to—”
“No, no,” he stopped him. “No, I do, too…” he seemed so resolute, yet afraid, strangely unlike him. “Y’know, I keep thinking of us getting dogs and a house in the suburbs. Can you believe that? Me?”
“Wow…” Yuuji sighed, content to just stay there, letting his tears dry and his breathing even out. “The suburbs? Really?”
“I know. A whole life together…” He ran his nails along his scalp, before offering a lighthearted tug, “But you have to promise me that you won’t cheat on me, got it?”
“Megumi,” he laughed, a little somber, sad knowing that thought even crossed his partner’s mind. “You’re the finest piece of ass I’ve ever had. It doesn’t get better than you, bunny.”
“Ah, sure,” he kissed his forehead.
“Mm, I love you… S’good to say it out loud.” His eyes were heavy, and the steady sound of Megumi’s breathing made it all too easy to slip into a peaceful sleep.
Though, too soon, he was jerked around, “Nope, tiger, you’re—we’re—gross and grimy. You need a bath, badly.”
“Ugh, noo—” he complained, forcing Megumi in tighter, grabbing at his back and ass and hair and every piece of skin he could. “Stay with me.”
His grimace was almost audible, “I’ll be there the whole time, you idiot. I know you’re tired, but c’mon—” he tugged on his arm, “you’re dense, christ. You stink.”
After the trial of getting Yuuji out of bed and into the bath, they sat in the tub while Megumi washed their hair. His soap was peaches and raspberries and aloe and everything that bloomed inside of him, that smelled the way love would if he could just bite it out of Megumi’s neck.