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Megumi regretted running for the elevator. He had been so relieved for three whole seconds when he’d finally reached the closing elevator doors and swiftly pushed his hand through the gap to reopen them. But then he stood face to face with the last person he wanted to see, his eyes wide but sharp and his chin slightly raised in anticipation of what Megumi would do.
“Mr. Gojo,” he said in mock enthusiasm, putting on a show for all the potential onlookers who might accuse him of being unprofessional (which he absolutely was when it came to Satoru) and in an act of proud rebellion, he got on the elevator.
He immediately regretted it as soon as the doors closed, though and he couldn’t bring himself to mask his contempt any longer. For two floors, they stood in a charged silence, every exhale and slight shift in their stance sounding unbearably loud in Megumi’s ears. He was hyper-aware of the other man standing next to him and with every second he grew more anxious.
“You’re wearing glasses today,” Megumi noted, unable to stand what felt like Satoru breathing down his neck any longer. “I guess you’re getting old, huh?”
“I’m only gaining more experience, Mr. Zenin,” Satoru answered calmly, still looking ahead, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Good, good.” Megumi nods. “I’d feel bad winning the client over if one of my opponents was in the early stages of dementia. I was going to hold back a little.”
A small indulgent smile appeared on Satoru’s face. “Give it your best, Mr. Zenin. I like seeing people splash around before they drown.”
There was something about his tone. He sounded so confident, so firm, like he wasn’t perturbed by Megumi’s comments at all. On top of that, his voice was quite low and raspy, and Megumi would be lying if he pretended that wasn’t very attractive. Usually, the men he met in bars talked rough from the alcohol and he loved hearing their husky voice in his ear as they were pounding-
He quickly put an end to his crude thoughts, clearing his throat and focusing on rehearsing the pitch he had prepared instead. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by Satoru’s alluring voice or his refined yet veiny hands or the way his arms somewhat strained against the fabric of his sleeves, because the surface was deceiving.
Megumi knew he was a ruthless man, who had never heard of the word “love” or “empathy” in his entire life.
He had the displeasure of knowing him for nearly fifteen years already, ever since his father would invite him over for dinner to discuss affairs Megumi didn’t understand yet at twelve years old. He never paid any attention to Megumi or his sisters or his mother, he only ever cared about talking business.
That was until Megumi started working for his father’s company. By that point, Satoru and Megumi’s father were no longer partners as Satoru had started his own company and was now his biggest competitor. Whereas his father had originally always instilled in him to respect the man, he was now expected to hate him and he had no issues with this whatsoever.
Satoru was always so cold, so calculated; he didn’t give a fuck about anything that didn’t make him money. And sure, Megumi liked having money, too, but mostly so he could spend it on shopping or having dinner with friends, not to hoard it and live miserably all by himself, pushing forty.
“You’re a real psychopath, you know that?” Megumi spit out under his breath.
“Just doing my job,” he said coldly as the elevator doors opened and they both walked out; Satoru with his confident stride and Megumi following him, pretending he had any idea whatsoever where they were going.
An employee greeted the two and fell in step with them, some folders piled up in his arms. “You’re here for Mr. Geto?” he asked eagerly.
Intern, Megumi thought immediately. Every single one behaved the same; clumsy, anxious and over-enthusiastic. They all suffered from warranted imposter syndrome, yet they were somehow still hopeful they’d climb the corporate ladder within a few years, when they were most likely going to be stuck in the same office, getting a raise every half a decade.
“Yes,” they confirmed at the same time, looking at each other with contempt after.
“Perfect, uh- let me see,” he said nervously, stopping in front of an open door to fumble through his stack. “It’s ‘Zenin enterprise’, right?” he asked, handing some papers over to Satoru. “You’re pitching together?”
He’d never seen fire flash in Satoru’s eyes like that before and Megumi had to press his lips together tightly as not to burst out laughing. “I’m representing ‘Gojo & Fujiwara’, kid,” he said bluntly, shoving the papers back in the intern’s hands, making him scramble anxiously for the correct brief.
“I- I apologize, Mr… sir, sorry.” He presented Satoru with a messy stack and smiled at him with fear in his eyes.
Satoru walked past, shoulders almost brushing, not sparing the intern another look. “Contact me… Itadori Yuuji,” Megumi read from his name tag as he placed a business card in between his fingers and then grabbed the papers that the kid had just tried to hand to Satoru. “When you get fired, Zenin Enterprise would love to have you!” And he, too, entered the meeting room, but with a cocky grin on his face as he went to sit next to Satoru.
“Still haven’t really made a name for yourself since you stabbed my father in the back, huh?” he whispered as soon as he was seated, not wanting to disturb their other opponents. He placed whatever Yuuji had handed him neatly on the table, knowing he probably wasn’t going to look at it again.
Satoru’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “He’s just a dumb intern,” he said through gritted teeth. “At least he knows his place.” He stared pointedly at Megumi, fingers ticking on the wooden table they were all sitting around.
Usually, Satoru was very cool and collected, sitting almost concerningly still as the only movements he made were his blinking eyes and the rise and fall of his chest; he had to be really pissed off now.
But Megumi wasn’t going to let that stop him. If anything, it spurred him on. He wasn’t about to pass up a chance to mess with Satoru and potentially get him off his game at the same time. So, he leaned back in his chair smugly, arms crossed, and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
Satoru’s incessant ticking became more erratic, but instead of finding it annoying, it sounded like music to Megumi’s ears. “Starting from the bottom, diligently working his way up instead of getting every opportunity handed to him on a silver platter.”
Megumi sat up straight. Wait, this was about him? “You don’t know-”
“No, you don’t know, Mr. Zenin. You’re a clueless nepotism hire, who didn’t have to work one day in his frivolous life to achieve the same things I did and you still have the gall to say I didn’t make a name for myself? My company bears my name and yours carries your father’s, that’s the difference between you and me.”
He wanted to contest his comments, prove his capabilities, but he was completely stumped and didn’t manage to utter a single word. Mr. Geto walked in, wasting no time to start talking, but Megumi could barely follow a thing he said, Satoru’s words echoing in his head. His strategy had backfired tremendously because now he was the one distracted right before his pitch. He hoped, at the very least, that Satoru was struggling just as much as he was and judging from the way his finger was still tapping against the wood, he just might have been.
The first person to pitch barely caught Megumi’s attention. He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t very good or if he was simply too preoccupied. He sat restless on his chair, his legs changing positions every few seconds until his knee bumped against Satoru and he glanced at him apologetically.
The other unexpectedly reached under the table and gripped onto his leg to still him and so he did, gulping nervously from the sudden contact. His hand lingered there longer than needed, turning from a painful grasp to an almost sensual caressing, until he pulled back just when Megumi thought he might get attached. He instantly missed the warmth of his hand, subtly palming his thigh after, trying to replicate the feeling.
God, he was being sad, wasn’t he? Just moments ago, Satoru had insulted him right before an important presentation and now he was yearning for his touch again, and in front of a handful of powerful CEOs at that.
Then he heard his name, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up and Mr. Geto was making eye contact with a polite smile, the corners of his mouth accentuated with sweet wrinkles. “I would love to hear from you next.” He felt like he was back in school, being called on by the teacher for not paying attention.
He stood up and it was almost like all worries slid off his shoulders. Who gave a fuck what Satoru thought? He knew how hard he had worked to be here and yes, he was very lucky to be presented with opportunities others could only dream of, but in the end, he had been chosen by his father to do this pitch.
His father barely favored him at the office; always being harsh, expecting excellence and in the first few years he failed to deliver. But now he took pride in his work and he wasn’t going to let one comment, that didn’t even hold a full truth, get in the way of him delivering the pitch he had worked on for countless overtime hours and all-nighters. Satoru thought he’d read his situation perfectly when in reality he didn’t know Megumi at all.
Megumi straightened his jacket as he stood in front of everyone and then he just talked.
He had done hours if not days of research to know exactly what Mr. Geto valued in his firm, in his employees and in his business partners, comparing it to what his own company had to offer. He appealed to their common Japanese background, making subtle references to their shared culture, because he knew Mr. Geto took a lot of pride in his heritage.
He only spared Satoru a few glances throughout his presentation. His ticking had ceased, his hand still in the same position flat on the table as he sat motionless on his chair. He seemed to be considering something, eyes peering at him half-closed, but Megumi had already decided he didn’t care what the other thought, so he continued without a hitch.
By the end, a satisfied smile appeared around his lips and he sat back down with his confidence fully restored. He crossed his arms and a certainty settled in his chest, a calmness. He had done a good job.
Despite everything, he still got the sudden urge to take a peek at Satoru’s reaction, his potential validation, but he knew how pathetic that would be and he didn’t care. It was good enough that he himself knew that his pitch had been a success, right? And yet, there was an ache in his chest that could only go away if he knew that Satoru was impressed by him, too.
Then he felt a pressure on his shoulder, someone grasping onto it for just a soft squeeze and it was gone before he even realized it had happened. He looked up and Satoru was making his way to stand where Megumi had stood moments ago. It must have looked natural, because no one batted an eye as he walked past and started his pitch like nothing happened, but to Megumi it had felt electric.
A dull warmth persisted in the spot Satoru had held onto him and as he got somewhat hypnotized by his authoritative voice, his brain warped the touch into a gesture of approval.
At that point, Megumi couldn’t tell if he was feeling extremely angry or extremely horny, maybe the emotions were simply fueling each other on. All he knew was that his gut felt like it was on fire and he had the urge to get physical, either by fighting or fucking.
The cherry on top was Satoru focusing his attention on Megumi in the middle of his sentence and barely taking his eyes off him after that. His breath got stuck in his throat and he nervously dug his nails into his leg, holding himself back from stripping right then and there to let Satoru fuck him silly on the meeting room table in front of everyone.
He realized too late that he had been biting his lip and it left a sting behind when he released it from his teeth. But Satoru just went on like he hadn’t seen Megumi’s shameful display and that only turned him on more; it felt like a secret just between them.
When Satoru was done, Megumi was about ready to explode. The anticipation of what he would do once he returned to his seat was killing him. He hoped he would touch him again as he passed by, but he didn’t, annoyingly ignoring him.
Megumi decided to be bold. It took him some time to find the courage, but as soon as someone else had started talking at the front, everyone’s attention on them, he softly kicked his foot against Satoru’s leg like it was an accident. But it wasn’t, because he did it again, this time dragging the point of his shoe over Satoru’s calf after. No reaction.
He felt so childish trying to play footsie under the table, like the petulant thirteen-year-old he used to be, desperately trying to get Satoru to notice him at dinner. He never dared to touch Satoru back then, his father always telling him dinner guests were to be treated differently than aunties or parents of friends, but he still always brought up his perfect report cards or wins on the basketball court to impress the man.
Obviously, Satoru didn’t care about a random teenager’s accomplishments; Megumi wouldn’t either now, being around the same age as Satoru was then. But he cared about business, didn’t he? Hadn’t he done so well on his business presentation?
He kicked him one more time, against his foot so he could rest them next to each other, touching continuously. If he moved, he had his answer; Satoru still thought of him as the same unnoteworthy child he used to be, not meant to be in his world. But if he stayed, his perspective had changed.
Satoru stayed. Not moving at all, pretending nothing was happening, but he stayed throughout the entire pitch and also the next. And when it was over and Mr. Geto thanked everyone for coming and let them know he would contact them about his decision, Satoru still stayed, connected until they were forced to get up, shake hands and make their way back to the elevator.
They were trailing behind the horde, their sleeves accidentally brushing a few times, almost like they were walking too close together, swinging their arms carelessly. “I underestimated you,” Satoru admitted and that was enough for Megumi to completely lose his mind and grab onto Satoru’s hand to drag him off to the only door not made out of glass.
Megumi quickly checked to see if anyone had noticed and then closed the door behind him, only to press Satoru against it with his fingers splayed out on his chest. “What are we doing here, Zenin?” he sighed with an annoyed look on his face as he had stuffed his hands in his pocket.
“Sucking your dick,” Megumi answered as he got on his knees and started fumbling with his belt.
Satoru let out a hearty chuckle and Megumi stopped in the midst of undoing the clasp, visibly offended. “What?” he sneered.
He pulled one of his hands out of his pocket and gently wove his fingers through Megumi’s hair. “I was gonna kiss you in the elevator.”
“You’re so weirdly traditional,” Megumi remarked, trying to hide that his heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to kiss me, just want you to fuck me.”
Satoru was silent for a moment, until he asked, “Here?”
“I’m not gonna have this passion forever, you know, so just use me now.”
His hand mindlessly scratched Megumi’s scalp. “Use you? Well, I don’t know-”
"You're not even hard?" he interrupted, looking up annoyed after opening Satoru's zipper, pulling out his cock and holding it loosely in his hand.
"Our legs brushed, Zenin. Come on, I'm not a teenager." Megumi would argue a lot more than that happened, but he digressed.
He raised his eyebrows, skeptical. "Can you even get it up without viagra?"
"Yes," he answered simply.
"Well, it's not going very fast, is it," he said, motioning to Satoru's cock in his hands, stroking it without much effort.
"Maybe you're just bad at it," he dead-panned.
"Fuck you," he bit back, taking his cock into his mouth and sucking it with fervor. Spit pooled on his tongue, spilling out through the corners of his mouth as he bobbed his head aggressively, trying to prove himself.
He learned quickly Satoru wasn't very vocal; even his most advanced techniques were met with nothing but some heavy breathing and a tighter grip on his hair. They were in the storage closet of an office building, so maybe it was best they weren't heard, but Megumi would be lying if he said it didn't frustrate the hell out of him.
Megumi took his cock deeper, let himself almost choke on it, licked his sensitive tip until it turned red and he was hard.
Looking at his full length from up close made him drool even more than he already was. He wanted, no needed, to feel it curve deliciously inside of him fast, hitting his prostate dead on every time he drove into Megumi. He needed it now.
He tried to entice Satoru by licking the tip like a cat and staring up through his lashes. “Can you put it in? Fuck me against the rack?”
“I- that’s gonna be painful for you,” he said earnestly, his voice not even trembling despite Megumi’s tongue still teasing his tip. He couldn’t stand the man.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I’ve had bigger than you,” he lied.
In reality, he needed it rough, didn’t want it to feel too good in case he wanted it again. He just needed some kind of outlet for the pent-up frustration Satoru had managed to evoke in him, without attaching good memories to it. He couldn’t keep coming back, couldn’t start intimately kissing, couldn’t develop feelings, he just couldn’t.
He got up, already regretting getting on his knees in the first place from the way the dirty floor had messed up his expensive pants. He was too focused on trying to wipe the fabric while he mumbled some Chinese curse words when suddenly he was being spun around and his front clattered against the shelves.
Megumi yelped, anger almost overtaking him for a second when he realised what Satoru was about to do and a lewd grin formed on his face instead. He clung onto the metal as Satoru had wrapped his arms around him from the back, pressing his body against him. He undid his belt with his face buried in the crook of Megumi’s neck, his breathing just as laboured as Megumi’s, already impatiently rutting against him.
Fuck, yes yes yes, this was exactly what Megumi was craving. He started whimpering from the suspense when Satoru clasped a hand over his mouth once he had gotten Megumi’s pants and underwear down to his knees. Megumi, naturally, bit his hand causing Satoru to jerk it away from his mouth. “I’m gonna be as loud as I fucking want.”
Satoru sighed. “No, you are not. Be quiet or I’ll make you quiet,” he warned as he squeezed Megumi’s hips and it was almost like he knew that was the exact formula for him to want to surrender to him in every way.
He pushed his ass back against Satoru’s cock, hoping it would tempt him enough to slide in. “I’ll be quiet,” he promised eagerly. “Now fuck me.” He desperately reached one of his hands behind him to hold onto any part of Satoru’s body, which ended up being his thigh, and kneaded the skin there so he’d hopefully be swayed by how badly Megumi clearly needed him.
Satoru removed one of his hands from Megumi’s hips and shortly after he felt his cock prodding against his ass. He thought he would go crazy if Satoru made him wait a minute longer, so he whined softly, his teeth digging into his lip to channel his desire in the meantime.
“Are you sure?” Satoru dared to whisper instead of just fucking him stupid like he asked.
“Just spit on it, geez! Have you had sex before?” He was not in the mood for stupid questions. He distantly heard the man spit on his hand, presumably rubbing it over his length, and then the tip started pushing in.
The pain was searing. Satoru’s thick cock shoving into him with nothing but spit (unsurprisingly) hurt a lot. Too much. “Fuckfuckfuck stop,” he cried out and Satoru pulled out without hesitation which left a burning sensation behind. It felt almost like a physical manifestation of his hatred for the man behind him, throbbing violently throughout his body.
“God fuck, I can’t do that. Hurts too much,” Megumi panted. He turned around and with a pained groan he leaned back against the metal shelves behind him, breathing out dramatically.
He still felt desire as he looked into Satoru’s eyes, but there was no way he was going to let him do that again. He caught the other shamefully tucking his shirt back into his pants, though, so at least he’d caught on.
Satoru hesitantly reached out for his hand then, stroking his thumb over Megumi’s knuckles gently but awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to the gesture. “I- I have lube in my car,” Satoru suggested.
That was the first time he’d seen Satoru behave like that; backing away when he asked, touching him lovingly, stumbling over his words. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He hated Satoru, they were rivals (enemies even if you asked Megumi after a few shots of soju), and they’d always been that since the day he even cared to look Megumi’s way at all.
He couldn’t deal with another confusing relationship where they were stumbling on the line between love and hate. His head was already muddled up enough trying to comprehend his dad being a tyrannical boss at work and then pretending he hadn’t been yelling at him all week at the dinner table during the weekends. His mom insisted the whole family, including his sisters, ate together every Saturday and it became more and more unbearable seeing his dad smile carelessly, knowing he could be so cruel to him.
So no, he couldn’t get disappointed like that again; grow accustomed to whatever fucked up version of love Satoru had to offer him. He had to nip it in the bud, his hand jerking out of Satoru’s affectionate grasp, putting his walls up. “You are so insane, you know that. Why the fuck would you have lube in your car?” he scoffed.
It came out harsher than he planned, a quick apology almost tumbling out of his mouth before he stopped himself. Good, this was good. Couldn’t have Satoru getting any wrong ideas at all.
Satoru let his hands dangle by his side, his face unreadable like always, which was frustrating like always. “Well, are you coming or not?” he said icily.
Megumi felt a pang in his chest, but he got what he wanted, so he ignored it. “Do you really think I’m that desperate for sex that I’ll follow you to your car like a prostitute?” Megumi sneered.
So, Megumi found himself in Satoru’s car. His hands messily bound together with his tie, shirt completely unbuttoned, beads of sweat glistening on his chest as Satoru worked his fingers into Megumi at a torturously slow pace.
“I know you’re old, but you must have more energy in you than this, right?” Megumi complained, hoping it would set Satoru off and he’d pick up the pace out of frustration. But Satoru just looked at him stoically, not responding in any way, two fingers pushing in all the same, like Megumi hadn’t said a word.
Maybe he needed a new strategy, because he was losing his mind from being so close to what he wanted, but still feeling like it was maddeningly out of reach. So, he thought for a second, what would entice a man at beekeeping age to fuck him senseless.
“Satoru-nii,” he whined, an exaggerated pout on his lips. It felt humiliating, but if it worked, then he wouldn’t regret it.
“Don’t do that again,” Satoru warned, taking his fingers out, which made Megumi impossibly needier. Nothing to fill him up, no hands to touch him. It was just to lube up a third finger, though, but the wait was excruciating, even worse than the slow speed, because at least then he was being stimulated, now he just felt hollow for what his mind convinced him was three whole hours.
“No? Daddy then,” he tried, cocking his head and Satoru looked down, avoiding eye contact and sliding his tongue past his upper teeth. He slipped the three fingers in and Megumi let out a satisfied yelp, rocking along with his rhythm.
“You like daddy, hmm?” He brought his tied-up hands from behind him to cage Satoru’s neck, yanking his face a few inches closer to Megumi’s.
At the same time, his knee felt around for his bulge and gently pressed into it as he continued, a mocking tone slightly coloring his voice, “Daddy please go faster, daddy please take care of me, daddy please ruin me, do you like that?”
Satoru let out a groan as Megumi started drawing circles with his knee, looking at him innocently, as if he wasn’t doing anything at all. “Daddy, I need your huge cock inside of me, please before I cry,” he laughed.
It was like regaining some power despite being tied up, despite being under him, despite following him to his car, because Satoru was the one slowly losing his composure from his words and movements, speeding up like he wanted, and Megumi could only behold him with a proud and obscene smirk.
“Come on, I know you want to, daddy,” he said, moaning like a porn star to really sell it. They both knew he was exaggerating, that he wasn’t as close to his orgasm as the noises he was making would suggest, but it spurred Satoru on anyway. “Fuck me daddy, please fuck me!” The begging, however, was very real.
“I just don’t want to hurt you again,” Satoru blurted out. It was almost like a sob and Megumi felt as if thick rope winded around his heart and pulled tight.
Without thinking, he lifted his hands resting on Satoru’s neck back above his own head while he shoved his knee a little further into his groin and watched Satoru squirm above him.
“Fuck you for pretending to care, Satoru!” he barked back, because that’s all he allowed himself to make of it. He wouldn’t let himself consider Satoru might actually mean it. Things were easier if they stayed the way they were; if they both still hated each other, if neither of them cared.
He couldn’t bring himself to beg anymore, didn’t want to call him daddy again; he just stared up resolutely, hoping Satoru realized he wasn’t playing games any longer. Meanwhile, the other searched his eyes. Megumi wasn’t sure what he was trying to find, but after being frozen in place for a bit, he slowly straightened his back and undid his belt again.
Despite not being filled up by his fingers anymore, the excitement of knowing he was about to get his way still felt a hundred times better than the tedious prepping process Satoru had made him suffer through. His dick was already pink, leaking on his stomach, but he barely had time to pay attention to it, when Satoru quite literally overshadowed him.
Megumi bucked his hips up a little and Satoru responded by roughly grabbing onto his sides so he couldn’t move and he was instantly hit with a jolt of eager anticipation. He held back a few pleas sitting on the tip of his tongue, biting his lip painfully and Satoru rewarded him by lifting Megumi’s leg over his shoulder and positioning his cock in front of his entrance.
Watching Megumi intently, he eased himself in; at a damn snail’s pace, but Megumi decided not to complain.
It really was tight, the slide not quite smooth. It did, however, feel heavenly, not painful at all. He supposed it was a good thing Satoru had taken his time working him open, but he’d obviously never admit that to him.
He’d never been filled up like that before and Satoru wasn’t even halfway inside. He wasn’t sure how he was going to stay sane throughout, but maybe some dicks were worth losing one’s mind over.
The grip on his sides got firmer and Megumi wished he could dig his nails into Satoru’s back, carving marks of passion and hate, but he had to settle for squeezing his laced fingers like a desperate prayer.
Megumi felt Satoru’s hips snap against his ass and his breath hitched. He could tell Satoru was waiting for some kind of signal to start moving in and out after he got used to the thickness. In the meantime, he tentatively kissed Megumi’s leg and when he didn’t protest, Satoru planted a few more.
“Alright, you can stop looking at me like I’m some fragile animal now and just do me,” he said, exasperated and Satoru chuckled as he backed out and slammed back in, Megumi immediately moaning pathetically.
That seemed to really motivate Satoru, because he sped up right away, supposedly wanting to get as many sounds out of him as possible and oh, Megumi was delivering alright.
All sorts of whimpers and sobs were tumbling out of his mouth as Satoru drove into him mercilessly. The backseat didn’t allow for much movement, but Satoru was making it work, his cock constantly buried deep inside, not pulling it out very far at all, mostly using speed and Megumi loved it.
He loved feeling full, loved going fast, loved the little pecks Satoru was peppering over his leg. He didn’t care that the action was too innocent and sweet for what they were doing, he couldn’t get enough.
Then Satoru gave one last parting kiss on his knee before roughly pulling him just two inches closer by his hips and God, he hoped it bruised. He wanted the evidence of Satoru’s manhandling to be marked on his body for the next few days, wanted it hidden under his clothes as he had dinner with his father to prove some kind of point.
He hated Satoru, but maybe he hated his father more and disrespectfully getting fucked by his biggest competitor felt like the most satisfying middle finger he could give him.
Then suddenly Satoru leaned forward, it felt natural at first, but even through his muddled brain, Megumi was able discern what he was trying to do, and he brought his bound-up fists in front of his face to stop him. “Don’t be fucking weird, no kissing,”
“Zenin, my dick is inside of your ass,” he said cockily and Megumi didn’t like his tone.
“Is it? I can barely feel it,” he responded snidely. They both knew it was a lie from the way he was almost screaming just moments ago, but it was just something he wanted to say to hopefully damage his ego a little.
“Loose whore,” was all he said, barely hiding his amusement.
“Needle dick,” Megumi retorted.
“Then what’s this, huh?” Satoru asked, gesturing his head towards Megumi’s stomach where an obvious bulge appeared every time he thrusted back in. He grabbed Megumi’s hands and forced them to stay on his own belly, feeling the hard imprint of Satoru’s thick cock sliding past obscenely.
He had to stubbornly pretend not to be affected by it at all while simultaneously feeling dizzier every time his skin lifted up against his hands. He could cry from how good it all felt and if a single tear made its way down his cheek, then that was truly none of Satoru’s fucking business.
Then the man pulled out, breathing heavily as he quickly got himself off above Megumi’s belly. “No, no, cum inside me please,” he heard himself beg deliriously. “Please daddy, I need to feel full, please.” He barely had half a brain left to feel shame and he didn’t care anyway because Satoru listened, going back in. He sped up, not letting go, Megumi finally getting his way.
Megumi imagined how the car was rocking comically from the outside like in the movies and that somehow did it for him; he came with a sob, secretly hoping they would be able to hear that outside, too, that Satoru fucked him so good.
Meanwhile, Satoru kept going, chasing his own high as Megumi twitched under him, delighting in the overstimulation. He just looked at Satoru with a pained expression as he whined prettily just for him. Then he came, too, Megumi feeling the sticky fluid spurting inside and teeth biting down on his leg.
At least that mark will be there during dinner, he thought darkly as Satoru was now sucking the skin into his mouth.
They stayed like that for a moment, Satoru’s cock still stuffing him as the realization set in that they’d just fucked each other. They went from random bouts of chuckling to complete silence where they stared into each other’s eyes, until eventually Satoru pulled out, offering Megumi a tissue as a makeshift plug to stop his cum from flooding out, potentially ruining his clothes even more.
The two got dressed. Well, all Satoru had to do was just pull his pants up and untie Megumi, but for the other it was a whole workout finding his clothes, pulling them out of whatever crevice they had somehow landed in and then curving his body in an angle where he could put the item back on.
And as if he hadn’t been struggling enough trying to put the rest of his clothes on in the backseat of Satoru's car, his tie was a whole different ballpark. His hand was trembling too much for him to get very far. "Let me do it," Satoru suggested, apparently having witnessed his enire one-sided wrestling match.
"I don’t need your help," he said annoyed, still attempting to do it all by himself. But Satoru simply engulfed Megumi's quivering hands in his own steady ones and undid the messy work Megumi had done so far to start over.
He briefly sighed before putting his hands on Megumi's hips to pull him on his lap. Megumi just let it happen, straddling the man tightly by clamping his legs around Satoru's thighs and keeping his breath as steady as possible despite completely freaking out internally.
It felt like the most intimate gesture he'd shown so far, diligently concentrating on his tie, mouth slightly hanging open. His lips seemed dangerously enticing then and he looked for something, anything to distract him from that fact.
His fingers settled on Satoru's clothed chest, tracing every fold in the fabric, but when he peeked back up to Satoru's face, the other staring at him daringly, finished tie in hands, it felt impossible to resist.
He swiped his thumb over Satoru's bottom lip, hoping that just touching it would satisfy him, but it was in vain. Satoru pulled on his tie ever so slightly and their magnetism did the rest.
Their lips wildly roved over each other, Megumi's thumb on the other's chin and Satoru holding onto his tie like a leash. He didn't know how it was possible for a single kiss to make him more lightheaded than Satoru's cock pounding into him but it did.
He already felt his pants growing tighter again, but Satoru's tongue roaming around in his mouth was too addictive for him to stop. If anything, he stupidly wanted to get hard, thought about Satoru slipping his hand under his waistband, jerking him off as they were making out.
Now that his hands were free, he was almost overwhelmed with the amount of spots he could put them. He settled for wrapping his arms around Satoru's neck to hug him as closely as possible.
Annoyingly, Satoru pulled off for a moment to gloat. "I thought you said no kissing," he teased.
Megumi snapped his eyes open, conjuring up the most deadly stare he could manage. "And fucking never again," he warned right before he did it again; he was allowed to get a last taste.
"Then let's make it count, hmm?" Satoru said cryptically before he quickly undid Megumi's belt and zipper, just like he'd imagined and reached inside his underwear to grab onto his cock, tugging lightly.
"Fuck," Megumi groaned into the kiss. How was he supposed to resist Satoru in the future knowing the man could read his mind and had a huge dick? God favored the wicked. But anyway, for now he gave himself permission to enjoy it at least, kissing and moaning freely.
Megumi grinded down with his hips, hoping Satoru would appreciate the friction, but there was no reaction on his part as was to be expected. He still bravely continued, liking the idea of affecting Satoru in some way as he made Megumi reevaluate his entire life, while simultaneously making him too dumb to think.
“Tissues are in the front seat, can you reach them?” he whispered against Megumi’s lips, somehow aware of the fact Megumi was already close.
He nodded eagerly, arching his back as seductively as possible and as he unhurriedly padded behind him, making sure to expose his belly button, the other fell for his trap, spreading his left hand over the naked skin as the right kept tirelessly stroking him.
Megumi finally grabbed a tissue, stuffing it in his hand as he got back up immediately clinging to Satoru again. His arms embraced his neck, his lips attached to Satoru’s and there was suddenly nothing else he could wish for.
And yet he still needed to ruin it, shatter the illusion not just for Satoru, but also for himself. “Never again after this, daddy” he panted, Satoru speeding up and Megumi’s hips moving erratically. “I’ll never let your dirty hands touch me again. Never let your tiny prick – ahh – fuck me again. Nev’r let your nasty tongue kissmeagain- fuck daddy fuuuck.” He screamed and he came, his release immediately shooting into the tissue Satoru was holding over the tip of his cock.
Megumi was still holding onto Satoru tightly like a koala, scared that he’d have to keep his promise of never touching each other again as soon as he let go. So, they just stayed like that for a while; Megumi breathing into his neck, kissing him there whenever he dared and Satoru letting his hands wander in all sorts of patterns over Megumi’s back.
“Don’t worry,” Satoru reassured, softly scratching the back of Megumi’s head. “It’s not over, baby.”