Archive of Our Own

It starts innocently enough, but it doesn't stay that way for long.

They're at some house party. Megumi doesn't know half the crowd. There's an abandoned mess of playing cards spilling off the living room coffee table, and a wonky circle of people gathered around it. Megumi finds himself on the floor between Yuuji and Junpei; whether the appropriate verb is sitting between or squished between depends on the ever-changing number of guests coming and going between rounds of whatever the current entertainment happens to be.

"Yuuji, it's your turn to ask a question," Junpei prompts.

"Already?" Yuuji glances his way in surprise. "I thought I had more time to think—"

He's cut off as the whole circle shifts around like a stack of dominoes when Todo finds his seat again. Megumi grunts as Junpei is shoved into him, causing him to collide with Yuuji's shoulder in turn.

"Sorry," Junpei winces.

"Don't worry about it," Megumi tells him.

"Oh! I've got one," Yuuji says, and just as casually, he wraps his hands around Megumi's waist.

His—his hands meet on the other side. A complete circle, full contact, from his thumbs all the way to where his fingertips just barely interlace across Megumi's belly. Megumi sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing under Yuuji's grip; and he hardly gets a moment to process how that discovery makes him feel before Yuuji grabs him and hoists him in the air, without effort, to make room in the circle by depositing Megumi square in his lap.

That, uh.

That probably wasn't supposed to turn Megumi on as much as it did.

Yuuji has moved Megumi out of the way, but he isn't moving. Both of them have gone very still. All Megumi can focus on is the press of Yuuji's thumbs at the dip of his back, the spread and splay of Yuuji's fingers across his abs, the heat of Yuuji's palms where they bracket his sides. The way Yuuji had just—well, he hadn't exactly thrown Megumi about the place, but he could, Megumi is absolutely certain now that he could. He's thinking a lot of thoughts he shouldn't be thinking with this many people around.

"...Hello? Earth to Yuuji." Nobara waves a hand in front of his face. "Weren't you going to give us a question?"

"I forget what it was." Yuuji squeezes Megumi's waist lightly. It's probably meant to be a casual thing, but Megumi's breath hitches; he can't help it.

Yuuji gives a low hum of approval at the reaction. "Mmm. That's new."

"Oh, jeez. Okay. Skip Yuuji's round, someone else go next." Nobara scoffs and scans the circle for a new candidate.

Yuuji looks up, dismayed. "No, no, mine was really good! Just give me a second." With a sheepish laugh, he releases Megumi.

Megumi is a little too preoccupied to respond to much of anything in the moment.

He can recall countless embraces shared with Yuuji over countless occasions off the top of his head. Cuddles on the couch. Hugs from behind in the grocery store. Hot and heavy clutches in the dark corner of a nightclub. Roaming touches in the kitchen on a lazy weekend. Held close in the bedroom, wrapped up in each other's arms on top of or under the sheets. He thought himself well acquainted with all that Yuuji's hands can do, felt them rough and insistent and slow and worshipping and everything in between. He's felt them gentle—fingers trailing down his midriff, kisses trailing after, eyes looking up from below—

But Yuuji has never actually picked him up by his waist like he did just then. The strength of Megumi's own response shocks him; he would have taken note if it ever happened before. And he's sifting through his memories, trying to figure out how they could have possibly been together for so long without him being handled this way even once. Because now that the initial surprise is passing, all he's left with is need. The kind that gathers low and deep, disarming in its intensity and in its heat. Maybe it was worth taking the extra time to wash up proper before he walked out the front door after all.

The rounds of questions move on. Attention drifts away from them. While no-one is watching, Yuuji's hands sneak back to Megumi's waist.

Megumi smiles to himself, settling more comfortably into Yuuji's lap and leaning back against his broad chest. He knows what Yuuji is asking, and he knows where his night is headed the minute they find a moment to themselves.

Now they're playing a waiting game.

The pace of the party game everyone else is playing seems to slow to a crawl. It's more than a little hard to concentrate on coming up with good questions when Yuuji's fingertips rub across his waistline; every subtle stroke ignites him. When they finally manage to excuse themselves, the party is still going strong, but by that point Megumi doesn't care—he'll endure a raised eyebrow from Nobara if it means he doesn't have to sit and socialise another minute longer. His head keeps circling back to the hazy fantasy of turning around and making out with Yuuji right here on the floor in front of everyone, which somehow seems like an ill-advised plan and sexiest idea he's ever had at the same time.

Instead Yuuji guides him down a darkened hallway with a hand on Megumi's lower back. Megumi could make his own way just fine, but something about the act is doing things to him tonight. He feels it through his shirt, exactly the right kind of possessiveness for the mood they're in, warm like a lingering brand on his skin. When they turn around a hallway corner out of sight, Yuuji almost outpaces him, making a beeline for the bedrooms upstairs. Megumi yanks him off-balance back into close proximity, and Yuuji steadies himself like it's already second nature—his hands catch at Megumi's sides.

"Tell me something. Has your waist always been this tiny?" Yuuji seems fascinated by the angles and curves of Megumi's middle section. He turns Megumi gently under his hold, admiring the view from the side and then from behind.

"My waist isn't tiny." Megumi moves to do something more exciting than just stand around and stare, but Yuuji seems very insistent on staring, and he won't budge. Megumi settles for looking over his shoulder instead. "Your hands are big."

Yuuji grins cheeky, unable to resist. "You know what they say about guys with big hands." He waggles his eyebrows for good measure. What a dork. Megumi rolls his eyes and fights a smile as he looks back to the front.

"I've got a better question," Megumi says, instead of taking the bait. "Have you always been strong enough to do this?"

"Do what?" Yuuji asks playfully, but he seems to know the answer already. His hands constrict, and somehow, impossibly, his fingertips interlace ever so slightly further.

"I mean—" Megumi squirms under his hold, grinding his ass back against Yuuji's crotch for good measure. Yuuji's grip tightens instinctively, restricting his movement, keeping them pressed close together, and—shit, okay. Maybe Megumi isn't the only one learning something new about himself tonight. Because Yuuji is getting hard in record time, before they've kissed, before they've touched, before they've done anything—and Megumi is just as hungry for it, gasping as he rolls his hips, his jeans a little tight at the mere thought of the countless ways Yuuji could ruin him with all that strength kept in check.

"Y-yeah, this sort of thing," Megumi continues. "Holding me up. Holding me down. Throwing me around until you've got me where you want me."

"...I didn't know you were into that." Yuuji's voice is a low rumble next to Megumi's ear. He sounds so greedy. Megumi almost wishes he could turn around, just to see Yuuji's honey brown eyes all dark and warm from wanting.

"Neither did I, until a few minutes ago." Megumi thinks maybe he's a little too into it, but he's also too horny to be embarrassed on his own behalf now. "I was thinking we could see where it takes us. If you're up for it."

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I pulled you closer in the living room." Yuuji's hands start to wander like that's all the permission he needed, hiking up Megumi's shirt as his palms smooth up his stomach, climbing higher over his ribs. "The things I could do to you."

"Then what's stopping you now?" Megumi tilts his head to the side, and Yuuji is quick to accept the invitation, leaving lingering kisses up the lines of Megumi's neck.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me how you want to come." Yuuji brushes his lips underneath Megumi's jawline, and Megumi feels the formation of every word; a hint of teeth over his quickening pulse, breath whispering hot over his skin. "So that when we get out of here, I can make it happen twice."

Quite suddenly, Megumi loses all his tolerance for the slow buildup.

He twists around to face Yuuji and shoves a knee between his thighs, placing one hand on the wall and pushing Yuuji back towards it with the other. "I am in the mood to forget my own name." Megumi announces. "I want to come with your cock in my ass, and I want you to come there, too."

Yuuji swallows. Megumi is pretty sure the only reason he got away with this is because he caught Yuuji off guard. He really couldn't move much when Yuuji was holding onto his waist earlier, and the notion of that strips him back to base need.

"Yeah. That's how I want it." Megumi warms up further to the idea. "I'm going to come while you fuck me. And then, you're going to keep fucking me, until you've had your fill."

He relishes the brief moment where Yuuji shivers for him, not yet entirely in control of the scene. He steps closer, crowding Yuuji up against the wall. "Spank me. Use me. Take what you want from me. But whatever you do—"

Close enough to kiss, and Yuuji leans towards it like he's near a breaking point, but Megumi keeps the sliver of distance.

"Don't stop," Megumi breathes. "No breaks tonight."

"I want—" Yuuji breaks off, wets his lips, tries again. He's the one who was handed power on a silver platter this time around, but for a moment, he looks entirely at Megumi's mercy. "Wanna take you home now."

The thought of having Yuuji all to himself without worrying about interruption or interference is divine. But right now, the commute back to their place sounds nothing short of torture. "You could take me upstairs," Megumi suggests in a soft voice. "I'll keep quiet."

But Yuuji brings his hands back up to Megumi's waist, tilting his head in that space so near to a kiss, and he pulls himself together enough to say, just as softly, "No you won't."

Oh, that sounds like a promise. God, Megumi hopes that's a promise.

"Come on, Yuuji." He doesn't care whose room it is, he doesn't care whose bed they break. He doesn't want to wait.

Yuuji shakes his head. "Home," he repeats, with another gentle squeeze that sends heat flaring right through Megumi's core. He lets go.

The trip doesn't feel as long as Megumi thought it might, but it's as frustrating as he figured it would be. When their ride shows up they sit in the back seat and Megumi gives the driver their address. By unspoken agreement, they keep to themselves. Every now and then Yuuji rubs at the back of his own head, carding his fingers through the pink roots, an unconscious, self-soothing, repetitive action. Almost pulling, but not quite. His eyes flick past the city scenery and come to rest on Megumi for fleeting seconds in between; Megumi catches him staring through their shared faint reflection on the glass. Yuuji looks away out the window, reaching up behind his neck again.

He wants my hands in his hair, Megumi thinks.

Megumi wants Yuuji's hands everywhere.

He stays where he is. Yuuji said home, so Megumi will wait until they're home.

He's pleased with himself for upholding that agreement the whole way back to their flat. He expects to keep to it until they cross the threshold of their own front door, but for Yuuji, making it inside the apartment block is enough. Yuuji's shoulder thuds into Megumi's hips before Megumi can decide between the lift and the stairs. His arms wrap tight around Megumi's legs. Before Megumi knows it his feet are lifted off the ground and he's being carried, folded over Yuuji's front and back, off-balance and feeling little and cradled close.

"Ohhhh my god," Megumi says faintly, with his dick pressed against Yuuji's strong shoulder, and he's pretty sure Yuuji can feel that.

"It really is so easy to swing you around." Yuuji laughs lightly. "I can't believe we haven't done this yet. I feel like I should be making up for lost time."

"By all means." Megumi stares down at the view of Yuuji's back and his butt, the muscles working as he carries Megumi up the flights of stairs.

"You know you can always tap out if you need," Yuuji tells him as he carries him through the apartment, turning sideways to fit them both through the bedroom door.

"Of course." The reminder isn't necessary, but it's nice all the same, especially when they're trying something different.

"You'll let me know if I get too rough?" Yuuji's tone is a little more mischievous with the second request as he switches on the bedside lamp, their genuine check-in already taken care of. He's holding Megumi with one hand to flick the switch, which frankly, Megumi thinks is just to show off, because Yuuji could have turned a light on just as easily after he put him down.

Megumi twists around to catch his eye. "Yuuji, I love you, but if you don't fuck me like you mean it tonight because you have it in your head that I can't handle it, I'm making you sleep on the couch—"

Megumi's world tips and his stomach drops as Yuuji heaves him off his shoulders. He lands on the bed with enough force to bounce, he doesn't get a second to find his bearings and he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Yuuji grabs him behind his knees and yanks his body down the mattress to bring them closer together.

"All right, then. Is this how you want it?"

Yuuji is there, handsy as he works loose the button and rids Megumi of his jeans to find a place between his open thighs. Something about him is suddenly predatory; he looks like he could eat Megumi up. "You want me to take you apart? Fuck you hard enough to leave you bedridden?"

"Yes," Megumi responds, more a moan than a word, and he's rapidly losing the capacity to feel any sort of shame about how shameless he's being. "Oh, fuck yes."

The boxer briefs stay on for now. Whether out of a lack of patience or a lack of consideration, Megumi isn't sure, and moments later he forgets to care. Yuuji clambers over him, caging him in, and Megumi has nowhere to go. He doesn't want to go. He's right where he wants to be, spread beneath his partner, a whole night of pleasure spread out ahead of them. For one liminal moment, Yuuji hovers there over him. He's stunning. His gaze, electric and heavy with intent, darts imperceptibly between Megumi's eyes and his mouth.

Megumi doesn't wait for it. He anchors a hand on Yuuji's nape and drags him down, rising up from where he lays to meet him halfway. The gut rush of first contact—the hot wet slide of Yuuji's lips on his own—that's all it takes to sever every last thread of self control.

There's no room to breathe and no space for softness, not with the pace they set from the start; savage, ruthless, insatiable. The legs tangled haphazardly with his own shift until one slots between his knees, and Yuuji starts grinding hard on the thigh underneath him. His weight is trapping and his touch is claiming and he's everywhere, everywhere at once. Megumi groans, pressing firm against the heavy back and forth pressure on his groin.

He grips the back of Yuuji's neck again, keeping him up close and personal; his knuckles brush against the rough prickle of Yuuji's undercut. He seizes the anchor, reaching higher to twist his fingers through the longer section of Yuuji's hair, putting pressure on the roots. Yuuji moans loud and obscene into the kiss, and Megumi laps up the sound, licking into his open mouth. They're still kissing like they've been starved of each other, hungry messy-wet and full of bite.

Megumi needs air. He needs to do something, because they could go all night like this if he lets them, and although the thought of that sends sparks up his spine, it isn't how they planned to come undone.

He grabs a proper fistful of Yuuji's hair and wrenches him away. Their kiss audibly disconnects. Yuuji snarls, his arousal spiking as that unexpected tug forces the tilt of his head. The feral sound sends a bolt of wicked satisfaction through Megumi. He finds the hemline of Yuuji's shirt and pushes up under, relishing the feel of skin without the fabric in the way. That satisfies him, too.

"Off," Megumi insists, "Take it off."

Yuuji sits back, straddling Megumi's hips, rushing to pull his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Megumi wants to poke fun at him for his eager haste, but he finds himself a little tongue tied at the sight of Yuuji shirtless. No matter how many times they fuck, this part never grows old. Megumi suspects it never will. He reaches out to run his hands up Yuuji's stomach, to knead Yuuji's pecs, to play with his nipples where he's sensitive and so beautifully responsive. Yuuji swiftly gathers up both of Megumi's wrists in one hand and slams them somewhere up above Megumi's head.

Megumi gasps, his eyes flying wide open. "Shit," he says weakly.

That right there. That's what he's looking for. That's what was missing before.

He tests Yuuji's grip, straining against it; a completely pointless exercise. Yuuji doesn't budge.

"Don't try it," Yuuji warns, squeezing Megumi's wrists. "You're playing by my rules tonight."

His brief best effort gets him nowhere. Megumi shivers with the knowledge, relaxing all over on Yuuji's command. He's looking forward to this—to letting go, sinking deep, truly and completely giving in. It's been a while since Yuuji last took him all the way under. He wishes he was there already, but. All in good time.

Yuuji's free hand comes up to undo the fastenings of Megumi's own shirt, buttoned all the way to the collar. He narrows his eyes in concentration. He can wrap his hands around Megumi's waist with ease, but he has more trouble with these delicate little buttons. They're small and particularly fiddly, and the holes they're meant to fit through seem somehow even smaller.

"Why do you even still own this?" Yuuji complains, after several failed first attempts.

Megumi figured they might end up here. He smiles up at Yuuji, taunting. "Own what?"

"This damn top of yours," Yuuji mutters, pinching Megumi's nipple through the fabric. "Always in my way."

Megumi hisses at the rub of the material. The sharp twist fails to wipe the smug expression off his face. He wears this shirt because it looks good on him, because it gives Yuuji trouble, because he likes to see Yuuji squirm every once in a while regardless of who's taking the lead. He won't be getting rid of it any time soon.

A button gets stuck halfway through, catching at the wrong angle, and Yuuji lets a growl of frustration escape. His fingers curl through the gap between two buttons and two halves of the shirt, nails gently scraping across Megumi's sternum. "I could just tear it off you."

"You wouldn't dare." Megumi staunchly ignores the way that prospect sends a thrill of arousal through him. "You love my shirt. I look sexy in it."

Yuuji gives up on attempting to undress him one handed and releases his hold on Megumi's wrists, using both hands to finesse the stubborn piece. "I have a love hate relationship with your shirt," he concedes. "You look sexier without it."

Achieving that seems to be easier said than done. Yuuji curses under his breath as he fumbles the third button again, and Megumi has to laugh. His arms are free now, so he decides to throw Yuuji a bone, starting from the bottom and working his way up the line of buttons to speed up the process. They're both chuckling by the time they meet in the middle, inadvertently getting in the way of each other's efforts to work the last one free. Brushing noses and nudging fingers, something sweeter floating over the simmering anticipation shared between them.

They manage eventually. For all his talk of playing rough tonight, Yuuji slides the fabric off Megumi's shoulders and out from underneath him with care approaching reverence, savouring the slow reveal. His collarbones, his chest. His torso laid bare and exposed.

"So fucking perfect," Yuuji breathes. He skates his fingertips over Megumi's stomach in a tingling barely-there caress, just to watch the muscles involuntarily quiver and clench. He presses harder, pushes firmer as he drags his hands up to play with Megumi's chest.

"Only for you," Megumi swears, a little breathless himself. "No one else."

He'd like to be touching Yuuji the way Yuuji is touching him, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Yuuji would take that as an opportunity to trap his arms again. So instead his hands fall either side of his head and he surrenders to the sensations, soaking up the glow of being taken care of so thoroughly and completely. Yuuji was in a mood to dictate Megumi's movements before they even got home. And Megumi might be the one to bend, to relent, to bare his neck, but the way Yuuji looks at him makes it all feel like the opposite of weakness. He loves it.

Yuuji smears two fingers lazily over Megumi's spit slick lips. Megumi lies there, panting and pliant, letting him play with his mouth. Letting him take hold of his jaw and tilt his head this way and that to indulge in the easy obedience on display. Yuuji's eyes glaze over, his own lips parting at the sight. He lets go before long to slip his fingertips inside.

"Mmph, nnh—" Megumi makes garbled sounds around the intrusion. It doesn't take him long to adapt and adjust, swirling the digits around, tasting the texture of fingerprints. He glances up, and Yuuji is already looking down from above, watching him like he owns him. He rubs over the ridges of Megumi's molars and strokes his tongue, fucking Megumi's mouth with his hand all languid and slow. Megumi feels debased; he feels dirty. He suckles on the offering and he doesn't take his eyes off Yuuji's face, heat prickling up and down his neck.

"Needy little thing," Yuuji murmurs, and he adds another finger—Megumi's eyes water when he feels all three pressing down firm, pushing in past the knuckle. He takes it like he's swallowing cock, relaxing his throat to invite Yuuji in. There's a thumb caressing the outside of his cheek, and half a hand stuffed in his mouth, and he's struck by the half delirious thought that his mouth was made for this. Made to be gagged with anything and everything Yuuji wants to give him, cocks and tongues and knuckles as deep as they'll fit.

Yuuji withdraws his fingers. They're dripping and webbed with saliva; a sagging rope of spit keeps them connected to Megumi's bottom lip. Megumi makes a pathetic sound, curling up off the bed to chase as the fingers retreat. He's pressed back down onto the sheets. The hand on his chest is slippery, half coated wet.

"The sooner you let me go," Yuuji reminds him, leaning low and speaking right against his ear, "The sooner I can open up your ass like I opened up your throat."

The heat that curls in Megumi is so consuming he forgets to breathe.

Yuuji flips him over onto his stomach without warning, yanking off the boxer briefs—Megumi hears a couple of stitches tear—and dragging him up by the hips. His face is pressed into the mattress, his ass is raised up high for easy access. They both groan in tandem when Yuuji's fingers close around his middle, Megumi at the feeling, Yuuji at the sight.

"How the fuck are you real?" Momentarily distracted, Yuuji kneels behind Megumi on the bed, smoothing his linked hands up and down Megumi's waist. "Look at you. You're obscene." He slides his palms down lower, squeezing, testing how far down he can go and still keep his hands connected all the way around. "I wonder if I could feel myself inside you like this."

"The view is better when you're filling me up though, isn't it?" Megumi manages to say. He can feel the front of Yuuji's thighs brushing against the back of his own; he's so aware of the way Yuuji's dick sits snug against the cleft of his ass, how Yuuji holds his body like he needs a counterbalance, and it all feels very much like Yuuji is about to fuck him for real.

"Isn't it?" Megumi repeats. His rim twitches with every subtle shift they make against each other as the mattress dips beneath their weight.

"Yeah." Yuuji's voice has a vague quality to it, his mind stuck on the images Megumi put there. "Megumi, you always look so good on my cock—"

He wouldn't. Not without a good and thorough stretching beforehand. But Megumi's nerves light up at the reminder of exactly what it's like, in those few blissful seconds between the fingering and the fucking, when Yuuji lines up and the goosebumps ripple over Megumi's skin because his whole body knows he's about to get exactly what he craves. He moves to lift himself up onto all fours, singularly focused on bringing that moment closer. Ready and eager to be prepped.

Yuuji snaps back into focus, and he snatches his hands away. Megumi hears it before he feels it—an unexpected loud slap—a sudden sting—

"Y-Yuuji!"

It takes Megumi a second to realise he's been spanked. He shudders and rocks back toward it, lifting his hips higher. The hand returns to the flesh of his ass, to rub and knead and smooth. Then it slides further, pushing down on the small of his back until Megumi is forced off his elbows. His chest touches the sheets again, and the gentle contour of his spine keeps his tight puckered hole in the air.

"Stay," Yuuji growls, low and commanding. Megumi feels that word in his gut. He goes still without thinking.

Yuuji gets off the bed, leaving Megumi where he is. Megumi can't see anything with his forehead squished against the mattress, but he knows what's coming, and anticipation leaves all his senses hot and heightened. Clothes rustle, a small drawer opens. The air feels a few degrees cooler without Yuuji's warm skin and attention; the lack of contact makes Megumi antsy. He shifts and fidgets in place—he stays—but he can't resist lifting his head to stare.

Yuuji is rifling through their bedside table for the lube. He's finally naked, impossibly sexy, all the more alluring for all the ways in which he isn't trying to put on a show. He is entirely Megumi's, every beat of his heart and every last inch of his body. Megumi doesn't know how he got so lucky.

Yuuji turns around, having found what he was after, and catches Megumi peeking. Megumi wonders if stay really meant don't move a muscle; he wonders if he'll be hit again for the transgression. He wouldn't mind that, not at all. But instead, a slow, knowing smile spreads over Yuuji's face as he drinks in Megumi's blatant thirst.

"Got something to say?" Yuuji asks smugly, full of the kind of confidence that comes from being so clearly desired. He flexes subtly in a way that is definitely meant to be a joke and is definitely working for Megumi regardless. Megumi rakes his gaze over toned flesh—the sculpt of Yuuji's arms and the swell of his pecs and the trail of his abs. The curve of his hard cock, fattening a little more just from the picture Megumi paints on the bed.

Megumi wants that inside him. As soon as possible.

He glares at Yuuji, demanding. "Get back here and fuck me."

Yuuji laughs, relaxing his pose and making his way over to the foot of the bed, tossing the bottle of lube from one hand to the other. "That's the plan."

He doesn't waste time, squeezing a drizzle of lube between Megumi's ass cheeks. Megumi anticipates Yuuji's finger next, working the cold gel inside him. He isn't expecting to be spanked a second time. But that's what Yuuji gives him, a hand that comes down sharp and unannounced. Megumi yelps, flinching. Some of the lube splatters to the side.

"Again," he rasps, arching back towards Yuuji. "Do it again."

Only this time, the finger rubbing circles over his rim pushes in, and Megumi finds himself whimpering. For a second there he had lost track of the point of this, the reason Yuuji has him on display with his ass in the air for the taking.

"Relax," Yuuji tells him, encouraging. Megumi can do that, he can focus on that. He breathes deep and exhales slow, and Yuuji hits him again. It isn't a love tap or a warm up round, it's a hard crack that knocks the breath from Megumi's lungs, the impact sending shockwaves through his body.

"Fuck!" Pain blooms pink under Megumi's pale skin.

"What was that you said under the stairs?" Yuuji slips a second finger in and twists his wrist, knowing where to search, digging in just so— "Something about keeping quiet?"

"Oh, ff—ffuuuhh..."

Fuck you is what he was going for, but every ounce of tension melts out of Megumi when Yuuji finds his prostate. He slumps into his pose, spine turned to liquid and his arms completely useless, head turned to the side. It feels good.

Megumi is not capable of quiet.

Yuuji resumes fingering him. He keeps at it long enough for Megumi to forget, and then he smacks him twice in a row, dragging another noisy shout out of him. The unpredictable spanking isn't doing Megumi any favours when it comes to loosening up, not with the way his whole body jolts and his muscles clench on contact, but Yuuji seems have no qualms about drawing out the process. Megumi loses count of how many fingers he's already taken; he loses count of the minutes ticking by. The sting of each slap and the burn of the stretch blurs into the hot molten pleasure rolling through him in waves.

It's not enough. The feeling hits a ceiling and it doesn't climb higher, and everything in Megumi keens with the need to surpass that peak. In a distant corner of his mind, he wonders how Yuuji is coping—he's barely had a hand on his dick all night, no contact save for the dry humping back when they first tumbled onto the bed. But it's distant, that thought, because Megumi's primary concern is the cock hanging heavy between his own legs. Now that he's noticed it, it's all he can focus on, an urgency for friction that he can't ignore.

"Yuuji." Megumi tries to find his voice. "Can I—nngh—can I touch myself?"

Please say yes, he thinks, please say yes. He grips the sheets above his head to stop himself from doing something stupid like making a grab for it before he has permission.

"Oh, sweet thing. Of course you can," Yuuji croons, curling his fingers in a way that has Megumi crying out. "So good for me, asking so nicely."

It's only then that Megumi realises it had been spilling past his lips—that endless pleading chant he thought he was keeping to himself. I'll do what you say, I'll be anything and everything you want, I promise I will Yuuji please say yes—

Megumi's cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. He must really sound pathetic, for Yuuji to agree so easily.

"Here, I'll make it easy for you." Yuuji moves his free hand to rub around Megumi's rim and smear it through the splattered lube from the spanking, slicking up his palm with the excess. He reaches under, fondling Megumi's sac before he finally takes hold of his shaft. Long slow strokes that linger near the end, to thumb his slit and rub all over the head of his cock.

"More," Megumi insists. He wraps his hand over the top of Yuuji's and squeezes a little, taking Yuuji with him as he pushes and pulls their combined grip faster.

Yuuji pulls free from underneath, leaving a streak of lube across the inside of Megumi's wrist. "You can handle that yourself."

Megumi takes over. He's less restrained than Yuuji was, and more aggressive too, rougher with every drag of his fist as he works himself from base to tip. Yuuji doesn't stop him. He doesn't say a word, so Megumi sees no reason to hold back. He's rocking his hips before he knows it, forwards into his own hand, backwards onto Yuuji's hand, and he damn near sees stars when Yuuji takes the opportunity to curl those fingers towards his belly again. He isn't far off, he knows it, he feels it—

"Yuuji." Megumi gasps a warning, gripping the base of his own cock to delay the inevitable. "Close, 'm close—"

"Not yet," Yuuji says mildly. "Not until I'm inside you."

Megumi almost chokes. He stills his movements and slams on the breaks, scrambling to make the switch from chasing that feeling to doing everything he can to fend it off.

"Your fingers are inside me," Megumi grits out, straining to keep himself from falling over the edge.

"You know that's not what I mean," Yuuji says. But he keeps on fingering Megumi, scissoring and stretching him open. Making it so hard for Megumi to play by his rules.

"Yuuji, I swear to god—"

"—You should listen to yourself," Yuuji cuts in. "Should've done this in front of a mirror so you could see yourself, too. On the bed with your hole wide open, crying out for someone to tell you it's okay to get yourself off. Anyone would think you were a common slut."

Heat coils deep in Megumi's belly. He tries the world out for himself: "Your slut is getting more impatient by the second."

Oh, he does like that. Yuuji's slut. It's humiliating and mouthwatering all at once, an addictive mix. He feels as if he shouldn't like it, but he does.

"My slut knows better than to make demands," Yuuji snaps, and that shuts Megumi up. Fuck, that's hot. Why is that so hot?

"All you have to do is let go, Megumi. I'll give you what you want." Yuuji presses himself closer. Shoves his fingers deeper. It's almost as mean as the reprimand, the taste of more when Megumi needs everything. "You told me how you wanted it, isn't that right? Laid it all out for me under the stairs. Why don't you remind me what you said?"

"No breaks," Megumi pants, and he means every word. "Don't stop."

"Yes." Yuuji lets go of Megumi's hips to run his fingertips down the length of spine. "But you were more specific than that."

Megumi knows what Yuuji wants him to say, but the second half of their agreement is far less charitable to the circumstances he finds himself in right now. He clamps his jaw shut and shakes his head, suppressing his needy noises in the back of his throat.

Yuuji spanks him again, just as harsh as before. "Tell me what you said, Megumi."

That's all it takes, really, for Megumi to crumble; he falls apart beautifully. It isn't at all in his nature to put up a fight.

"I said I w-wanna come on your cock." Megumi is hopelessly lost as he's made to repeat himself, whimpering and pleading; it's like that spank shakes something loose, inhibitions he didn't even realise he was still holding onto coming undone. "Wanna come, Yuuji please, I'm gonna come—"

"You will," Yuuji says firmly. "On my cock, and not before."

Megumi despairs. He wails. He braces against the mattress as best as he can with one forearm and shoots Yuuji a dirty look over his shoulder, all arousal and sharp frustrated anger.

"Oh?" Yuuji asks, entertained by the challenge. "You think you know better?"

Megumi doesn't open his mouth; he doesn't trust himself to speak a full sentence without moaning halfway through it. He keeps a painful hold on his cock like it's the only thing stopping him from making a mess on the sheets.

"Go on then, if you're so certain my fingers are enough for you." Yuuji goads him with the offer, daring Megumi to disobey. "But they'd better be enough, because you won't be coming again tonight."

Megumi is seriously considering it, consequences be damned. There would be nothing unsatisfying about chasing his release right here. Yuuji's fingers really could be enough all on their own, intense and unrelenting—fucking phenomenal, really. It wouldn't take much. And afterwards, Yuuji would have to teach him a lesson, which has its own kind of dark appeal. He's temped. Megumi is very, very tempted, because his orgasm is barely a few sharp tugs away, and he's the kind of almost-there that makes the thought of slowing down near impossible to stomach.

Yuuji's fingertips press and rub as he pumps his hand in and out. Megumi keens loudly, thighs trembling as he tries to keep his knees from slowly sliding outwards underneath him, and the hand around his dick stays exactly where it is. Not leaving, but not moving either, because Yuuji's words are still bouncing around his skull: You tell me how you want to come. I'll fuck you hard enough to leave you bedridden.

This is why Yuuji gave in and gave him what he wanted, let him rut into his own hand like an animal without an ounce of self control. This is why Yuuji neglected himself right from the start in favour of working Megumi to the point of begging teary-eyed for release. He aims to last, and he aims for Megumi to do the opposite—he really is planning to have Megumi come twice without stopping to rest, isn't he?

The thought alone is almost enough to tip Megumi over the edge.

Yuuji must see how conflicted he is. It's written all over Megumi's face. Wet lashes, unfocused eyes. Pupils blown wide, brows drawn up, thoroughly dismantled by everything that Yuuji has said and done. Megumi doesn't know what to do with himself, he doesn't know how he got to this point. And Yuuji makes it easy for him; he decides so Megumi doesn't have to. He brushes the damp strands of Megumi's hair from his forehead, tender and pacifying, a soft touch.

"Behave for me, won't you?" Yuuji murmurs.

Something desperate wells up in Megumi's chest, like he could cry. Oh, how he wants to behave. How badly he wants to be good.

He bites his lip and nods. If it's just Yuuji's fingers, he thinks he might just make it to the end. But the masturbation definitely has to stop, or he's got no chance of lasting. He forces himself to let go of the base of his dick, leaves it sad and lonely, weeping all over itself.

"There we go," Yuuji says warmly. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Megumi is so hard it hurts. He opens his mouth in an attempt to whine something along those lines. He doesn't get the words out, just the breathy, needy noise, because all of a sudden Yuuji is removing his fingers and taking a seat on the end of the bed, pulling Megumi upright into his lap. It's stupid, just how easily Yuuji handles him, just how much Megumi gets off on being thrown carelessly across the bed like a plaything or a doll. Yuuji pushes his fingers back in and then adds another, chilly with fresh lube, kissing him slow to distract from the dull raw ache of that final stretch. Resisting the urge to wrap a hand around both of their cocks. His other arm wraps around Megumi's back instead, holding him close.

"Doing so well," Yuuji says softly. "You're nearly there."

Megumi flushes. His heart beats faster at the praise. It takes a little longer than usual for the undercurrent of pressure and pain to fade out, since Yuuji is maddeningly gentle whenever he brushes against Megumi's prostate. Maybe he knows that if he presses too hard, Megumi might just fall apart. But Yuuji makes it good—he always makes it good. And soon enough Megumi is squirming in his hold, because all of these too-careful fingers put together aren't enough to take him to the heights he wants to reach.

"You're teasing me," Megumi mumbles, shifting restlessly on Yuuji's hand. The action rubs their cocks together, and Megumi feels a twitch against his own member. He isn't the only one fast approaching his limits. "I can take it. We've done it with less."

"I'll decide what you can take." Yuuji is definitely teasing him now, and teasing himself too, moving deliciously slowly when Megumi is already so stretched and ready. "You know I like to take my time."

"Oh my god," Megumi wheezes, because he can't believe they're doing this twice; he doesn't know if he can cope with another round of edging. Yuuji hardly ever sets Megumi up for failure on purpose, but he's been exploiting all sorts of brand new weaknesses, and he might be overestimating Megumi's self control.

"So demanding tonight, princess." Yuuji rubs light circles over the small of Megumi's back with the hand that isn't otherwise occupied. "I've been doing all the work and you're still asking for more. Why don't you contribute a little?"

Never mind the fact that Yuuji deliberately set things up so he was doing most of the work. Indignation drags Megumi a step back towards lucidity. "There's not a lot I can do while you're holding me down so I can't move, is there?"

Yuuji raises his eyebrows a fraction, expectant. His fingers slip out. "I'm telling you to move now."

Megumi blinks, and then he understands.

Slowly, Megumi pushes him flat to the bed. He likes this view, of Yuuji beneath him, with his pretty pink hair and his pretty pink cheeks and a pretty pink flush across his chest. Confident and cocky, even as he lies back to let Megumi put on a show. Yuuji could flip their positions in a heartbeat if he wanted, and they both know it; there's something intoxicating about that fact, the push and pull of power and control.

Yuuji's erection strains against his stomach, and Megumi is practically salivating. He wants it in his mouth but he wants it up his ass more. He's aching for it. He's fucking gaping. He grabs the discarded bottle of lube and pours a little extra over his fingers, slicking that length up just to be sure. It's cursory more than anything else—Megumi loves the intimacy of a handjob, but he doesn't have the patience here to linger over the act. Still, Yuuji has been holding off for so long tonight that even this much is enough to leave him gasping, arching his back.

As soon as Yuuji is wet enough, Megumi stops stroking and takes hold of him instead, lining himself up and bearing down without bothering to turn around. The fat, blunt tip of Yuuji's cock presses against his rim, meeting temporary resistance until Megumi feels it give; the head slips in and his mouth falls open, soundless.

Yuuji moans enough for the both of them. His gaze is locked on the place they're joined, transfixed by the sight of his dick disappearing as it's swallowed up by Megumi's hole. Megumi sinks and sinks down further. Yuuji's hands fly to his waist, supporting his weight as he eases himself to the base.

Megumi can't help but get loud again at that, when Yuuji's palms squeeze tight all the way around and Megumi's own hole squeezes tight around the dick in the centre of it all. He wonders if Yuuji was right about what he said before he first dipped his fingers in—if the grip Yuuji has on his waistline is enough for him to feel the way he carves a space for himself through Megumi's body inch by inch, the way he splits Megumi open from within and heats up his insides like a brand. Could he possibly feel that, from the outside? Can he feel it happening under his hands?

In the moment Megumi almost believes the dirty talk. He wants to ask but he can hardly speak. He can't find the words, because at long last he's bottomed out; caught up in the euphoria of finally, finally being filled.

Yuuji is talking to him. Megumi forces himself to pay attention, catches the tale end of what he's saying.

"...You can come whenever you want."

Megumi nearly tears up all over again in relief. He lifts himself up the moment he realises he doesn't have to keep inhibiting, and he's dropping back down before Yuuji finishes speaking. Yuuji isn't sure where to put his hands while Megumi starts to move on him and over him, his touch fluttering down Megumi's sides, along his thighs and back up again.

"That's it." Yuuji bites back a groan. His hips twitch with the effort of keeping still. "Bounce for me, baby. I wanna see you work."

So Megumi keeps at it, palms splayed in front of him on Yuuji's stomach for balance, conserving his strength with a steady rhythm because he knows their night isn't anywhere close to being done. This time Yuuji really does groan, the kind of deep, growling, possessive sound that goes straight to Megumi's dick. And Megumi knows he has permission, but—not yet. He doesn't want this part to be over yet.

Yuuji lands a few lazy smacks on Megumi's ass cheek, squeezing and jiggling the flesh, encouraging him to get moving. The sting on his already red and tender skin shocks Megumi into action; startled into compliance, he yelps and picks up the pace. Yuuji is holding him again to help, raising him higher just to yank him down as he can't help but fuck up into him from below. It feels better when they move together like this, every movement met with equal strength and equal force, connected in all senses of the word. Megumi can't get enough, not of Yuuji and not of the things Yuuji does, the things they do to each other.

"Oh, oh, Yuu—" he pants, single syllables jostled out of him with each slap of skin on skin, "Yuu-uu-uu—"

Yuuji surges upward, sucking at Megumi's nipple once, twice on his way, before crushing their mouths together. Megumi cups Yuuji's jaw with both hands, spine curling as he ducks down to meet the kiss. He tries to hold the rest of himself steady so their lips stay connected, even while he frantically rocks his pelvis back and forth, and it's hungry and it's sloppy where their kisses align, all desire, no finesse. He cants his hips faster as Yuuji pulls him closer through heavy touches pawing at his back. Megumi's little cries are muffled with tongue, but they're speeding up, pitching up higher like a whine; he lets go of Yuuji's face to throw his arms around Yuuji's neck instead.

Yuuji lets go of his back to thread his arms past Megumi's legs, hooking knees over elbows. He grips him firm right up under his ass and over his lower back, hard enough to bruise the creamy skin. "Grab my shoulders," he grunts, nipping and tugging on Megumi's earlobe with his teeth. "Hold on tight."

Megumi slows his movements to comply, arms dropping down to clutch Yuuji's shoulders from behind. Yuuji's mouth is on him again, now that he's communicated what he wanted and Megumi has done what he was told. Megumi is almost about to return to grinding in earnest when it occurs to him that there was probably a reason behind the instruction; through the fog of arousal, he realises where Yuuji is going with this. At the last second he scrambles to find the best anchor he can manage.

Yuuji stands with his cock still buried deep, and he doesn't break the kiss as he carries him away from the bed. Megumi's embrace turns tight. He clings to Yuuji, holding himself upright. Yuuji adjusts his hold on Megumi now that he's standing, strong arms braced under Megumi's legs, and his hands, fuck, his hands pinning Megumi to the bedroom wall by his waist.

Megumi's back thuds hard against the wall. All of Yuuji's body weight presses him in place. He's giddy with anticipation and feverish with need, because Yuuji's going to fuck him now, just like he promised—going to take him and break him and make him forget his own name—

The first thrust wrenches a yell from Megumi's throat. It's a rough and brutal taste of everything to follow, and he hardly has a moment to adjust because Yuuji sets a punishing pace right from the start. Megumi doesn't have much purchase in this position, but he meets Yuuji's thrusts as best he can, fucking back, finding a rhythm with the inch of leverage he has. He can already tell he's not going to last. But that's okay, because Yuuji said it was okay. He can come whenever he wants, and god, Megumi wants it. He's been holding back all this time.

"Fuck me, Yuuji!" Megumi shouts, recklessly loud into the air. His nails scrabble over Yuuji's skin as he fights to keep his position, and when Yuuji finds his prostate, Megumi rakes red lines across his shoulders. He clamps his legs around Yuuji's hips like a vice and pushes against the wall with his upper back, desperate to keep that angle.

"Don't stop," Megumi babbles senselessly, "Right there, right there—"

It hits him then, that white-hot flood of pleasure, and he comes. Megumi comes and he keeps on coming, streaking a creamy mess all up his belly, getting Yuuji all dirty in the process. It's intense and it's blinding and it's everything he's been waiting for, body rigid, cock jerking and pressed against Yuuji skin to skin. If he's ever felt better than this, he's too far gone in the moment to recall the experience.

Yuuji fucks him through the high and he fucks him through the comedown, and it seems like it lasts forever. Syrupy warmth crawls through every nerve; Megumi is viscerally present as it drains away, second by second as the sweetness spoils sour, until the rough pounding of Yuuji's cock turns too much too much too much—

Tears spring to Megumi's eyes. Instinctively, he tries to writhe out of reach, his body all of a sudden oversensitive and completely overwhelmed. In response, Yuuji eases off, pushing in and out slower, smoother as he goes.

"Don't you dare slow down," Megumi says sharply.

Yuuji slows anyway, giving Megumi a moment to come to his senses. "You're still up for that?"

Evidently, Yuuji requires convincing. He's just standing there, still buried deep, nuzzling into the side of Megumi's neck and licking the sweat off Megumi's skin. His arms are starting to tremble from the exertion of holding Megumi where he is, and he adjusts his grip again, jostling Megumi's legs. Now that they're not moving, Megumi is basking in the afterglow. Yuuji fills him completely, so perfect and snug, turns him from hollow to whole. It would be a deliciously satisfying moment if it weren't for the fact that Yuuji is abandoning his half of their agreement in its entirety. Every tiny movement only serves to remind Megumi of all the ways in which Yuuji isn't fucking him.

Megumi winds his arms around Yuuji's neck and shoulders again, leaning up to plead in Yuuji's ear. "Keep going, Yuuji, you have to, I need it," he moans in his best breathy voice. He's laying it on thick, but soon he won't have to, as long as Yuuji follows through on what he said he would do. "Pretty please coat my hole with your cum. I need you to fuck me, I need you to fill me up—"

"Fuck," Yuuji mutters, and he starts pumping his cock in and out again. Slamming Megumi back against the wall again when Megumi starts to slip. Megumi almost bites his tongue when Yuuji moves without so much as a word of warning. He's gone soft, his dick hanging sticky limp between them. His muscles tense up, spine curling involuntarily, head dropping low on the shoulder before him. Yuuji's cock keeps dragging over Megumi's swollen prostate like he's aiming to rub it raw, and every pass borders on actual pain. Megumi can never stand to keep going so long on his own, but when Yuuji puts him through it he's obsessed, addicted. There's nothing worse, nothing better, than being pushed past his limits like this.

"Aah!" Megumi tries to twist out of Yuuji's reach again, helpless against his body's instinct to escape the stimulation. He probably should have asked for a break after all. Should have had a little more healthy respect for his refractory period. But Yuuji has finally caught up with Megumi's demands. This time he clamps down on Megumi's waist and yanks him into a better position. He pins him there, hands pressing heavy, mercilessly ploughing his dick into Megumi's ass.

"Still okay?" Yuuji checks, leaning back a little to keep an eye on Megumi's condition. His rhythm almost falters at whatever sight he finds. Megumi isn't capable of even imagining how he must look right now. He can't think straight, his cheeks are wet, he can hardly speak—fuck, he might be drooling.

He processes Yuuji's question on delay. Megumi nods his head frantically, clawing where he can reach to press himself closer to Yuuji. "So, s-so full, so much, it's so much—"

Too much, really. His mind feels fuzzy and his body feels electric, willing and splayed and spread open. His cock is half hard now where it's trapped between their stomachs, slicked up with dribbles of fresh precum, smearing his own last release all over their skin. Somewhere along the way, he's started to burn again, a deep, hot pleasure rolling through exhausted and overstimulated nerves. Yuuji kisses him senseless, eating up his thin cries as Megumi is filled again and again.

It's getting hard to breathe. The kisses leave him lightheaded. Megumi gasps for air and the air smells of sex, and Yuuji is the only thought on his mind; his presence, his body, he's all that Megumi can feel and all that's in front of him, overpowering in the best kind of way. Yuuji makes it look easy. His weight confines Megumi, keeps him pliant, taken, trapped, consumed. Warm and wanting and so wanted. For him, it probably is easy. He fucks Megumi against the wall because he can, holds him here because he has the power to—and every time Megumi squirms and struggles beneath him, Yuuji wrangles him into submission like it's nothing.

Megumi shudders, sick delight twisting up his insides as he realises it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how hard he tries to get away, because Yuuji just drags him back into place, right where he wants him.

Right where Megumi wants to be.

And Yuuji doesn't stop.

He doesn't stop fucking Megumi like it's the last time, the first time, the only time that matters—hearts pounding, hands all over, bodies close and joined and whole and not close enough—

He doesn't stop holding Megumi down, holding him up against the wall, taking good care of the impulse that begs to be wrecked and ruined as he stuffs him and empties him over and over and over—

All Megumi can do is take it.

Megumi sobs. He's sobbing, making Yuuji's bare shoulder all messy with his tears, bouncing up and down helplessly while his body is used for someone else's pleasure. And he can't control himself, he can't keep himself from crying, he doesn't even know when it started.

"Are you close?" Yuuji kisses his cheeks and tastes his tears, salty, wet. He pushes their foreheads together, the only hands free comfort he can offer. "You've been so good. Would you come for me? Do you think you could, if I asked?"

"Nngh—gah—" Megumi blubbers, sniffles, slurs. His legs twitch uselessly in the air behind them both. Yuuji is falling out of rhythm, thrusts short and punchy and harder to match. He's close too. And Megumi, already so vulnerable and overworked, cries louder to know that he's the reason Yuuji feels this good—knowing that Yuuji thinks he's good—

"Do it," Yuuji rasps as his hips stutter still. "Right now. Come on my cock like you told me you would."

Somehow, that's enough. Raw pleasure overtakes Megumi, different to last time, rugged and raw and rough around the edges. His cock gives a few pathetic spurts before it stills. He weeps openly, brokenly, his puffy hole burning, every last drop of pleasure wrung out. The sudden tight clench around his shaft milks Yuuji dry. He shoves in deep, and warmth spills though Megumi's insides, and Megumi presses a hand to his stomach in the hope that somehow he'll feel it waistline high.

This time they both get to bask in the afterglow. Megumi lets his hand fall and tilts his head back with a blissful sigh, gazing dazed at the roof and melting into the feeling. He's fucked out, blissed out, absolutely boneless. Limbs like jelly. Definitely too weak to lift himself off Yuuji's cock. Yuuji does it for him—wraps his hands all the way around Megumi's waist and lifts him up until the head slips out, until his empty hole clenches around nothing. Yuuji uses the last of his strength to set Megumi down oh-so-carefully so they can see eye to eye. He isn't shocked by Megumi's tear-streaked cheeks, but Yuuji's face floods with compassion all the same.

"Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you hurting anywhere?" He cradles Megumi's head between his hands, forgoing his own rest in favour of double checking that the tears haven't taken a wrong turn. Megumi isn't quite lucid enough for eloquence yet, but he does his best to provide his usual reassurance.

"No, no, you didn't hurt me. It was a lot, but. Good." Megumi smiles, wiping his eyes. "It was really, really good."

Yuuji's concerns slowly fade as he confirms for himself that Megumi really is okay. Megumi is better than okay, in fact. He's going to be sore for sure tomorrow, but fuck, he feels amazing right now. Still all floaty and light.

"Damn." Yuuji chuckles, combing his fingers gently through Megumi's hair. "I really did a number on you, huh?"

Megumi gives up on making sentences work and mumbles something indistinct in affirmation, shuffling closer to drop his head on Yuuji's shoulder—the left one, not the right side which he'd snivelled all over. Yuuji cradles him close to his chest, before his knees buckle and his arms tremble and he eases himself to the wall with a long, satisfied sigh.

Megumi follows him back and they lean there together, catching their breath and coming down from the high. Yuuji drapes himself over Megumi for support; Megumi keeps on sniffling into the crook of Yuuji's neck, trying to remember how to pull himself together. He's quieter about it now, all the noise well and truly fucked out of him. He'd like to smoosh his face into Yuuji's pecs, but he's not short enough to make that work with the position they're in, so this will have to suffice.

Suffice it does. Yuuji returns the embrace with as much force as he can muster, stroking up and down Megumi's spine, murmuring a mindless litany of comfort and praise. There's cum sliding out of Megumi's ass, which is kind of uncomfortable, but he can't even think about moving right now, and this hug feels like the best thing in the world. It's grounding. It's exactly what he needs. Secure in Yuuji's arms, he starts to come up out of the daze, returning to the world, to himself.

When at last he's settled enough, when he doesn't want to stand on his feet any more and the stickiness of his abs and thighs becomes too much of a discomfort to ignore, Megumi opens his heavy eyes. "Shower?"

"Shower," Yuuji confirms, releasing Megumi from his hold with some reluctance.

Yuuji cleans him out and they clean each other up, hot water from the shower tumbling down, easing tired muscles. Megumi takes his time washing Yuuji's hair, thinking absentmindedly back to the car ride home. He massages Yuuji's scalp until Yuuji is swaying and pliant under his hands. And then, when they're both clean and dry and well looked after, Yuuji defeats the purpose of towelling off by taking a seat on the wet shower floor and closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Megumi stares down at him, bemused. "We have a bed."

"Too far away." Yuuji waves away the idea, slumping back against the glass. "Let's sleep here tonight."

"In the bathroom," Megumi says flatly. "On the floor. In a puddle in the cold."

"Don't knock it till you try it." Yuuji's head nods, his words slurring together. He's exhausted, clearly, and endearing in an absurd sort of way, but no amount of sympathy will convince Megumi to spend the night lying prone on bathroom tiles.

"You're ridiculous," Megumi tells him. "Get up. I'll return the favour."

Yuuji cracks one eye open. "What favour?"

It's enough to get him on his feet and dry again, blinking at Megumi curiously. Megumi narrows his eyes, considering his approach. Then he scoops Yuuji up bridal style, carrying him back to the bed so he doesn't have to walk there himself.

"Megumi!" Yuuji splutters, shocked wide awake.

"Fuck, you're heavy," Megumi grunts, his first steps more of a stagger. But Yuuji holds onto the back of Megumi's neck to give them both better balance, and after that it's easier. He's pretty proud to have managed it, considering his condition; proud to give Yuuji a taste of what he'd been enjoying all night.

"Please don't slip on the tiles," Yuuji squeaks, tucking his head close to Megumi's chest so they fit through the bathroom doorway. In Megumi's humble opinion, the way Yuuji handled him tonight was nothing short of a revelation. But there's something to be said for the inverse, how Yuuji is curled up and flustered in his arms.

He files it away for another time. They're both far too tired to mess around any further right now.

Unfortunately, there's nothing graceful about the way he dumps Yuuji on the bed. It's kind of a struggle, actually. He heaves him onto the mattress and lets Yuuji sort himself out, all his strength sapped. Finally. Finally, Megumi can rest.

"I'm not banished to the couch, then?" Yuuji says it like a question, but his ego shines through, reclining proud upon their sheets like he always knew he'd satisfy.

Megumi shakes his head and climbs on the bed, closing his eyes and snuggling in with his smile pressed against Yuuji's bare skin. "No, you're not. Never."

And Megumi wants to rest. He really does. So when Yuuji takes hold of his waist one last time, just to pull him closer so they can settle into their usual sleeping position—when the handling causes Megumi to gasp out loud, his dick twitching with interest—

Ah. This is going to be a thing for him now, isn't it?

"Have mercy," Yuuji pleads, propping himself up on his elbows. "No more. I'll collapse."

"Don't even talk about a round two tonight," Megumi groans. Even the thought of it makes him wince. The ache in his back has yet to fully settle in, but he grimaces at the memory of the many and varied ways he was slammed against the wall.

"Thank god." Yuuji flops back down onto his pillow. "For a moment there you had me thinking you weren't done yet."

"It's not that." Megumi closes his eyes, resting his head on the soft pillow of Yuuji's chest. "Turns out I just really like the way you grab my waist."

There's a beat of silence. Heads filled with the white noise of their evening together, the things they did, the sounds Megumi made.

Yuuji snorts with laughter, amused at the obvious. "You don't say?"