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Papyrus chafed beneath Megumi’s fingertips as he flipped another page, half-engrossed in the book he’d picked up at the library earlier that day. It wasn’t anything special. Nothing that could help him—not that he even needed, or wanted, to be helped. In fact, it was some romance novel the little, blue-haired elf behind the counter recommended to him. For such a timid, indecisive girl, she had very distinct taste. Not that Megumi was complaining, really, he just preferred to read smut that wasn’t exclusively heterosexual power trips and erotically slaying dragons. He preferred fantasy.
Using his mage hand, he slipped a pinch of his food under the booth to feed to Kuro, who was curled protectively beneath the table. They were both getting sick of the food, it seemed, because his dog huffed at first, taking it between the tiny teeth at the front of his snout.
Be grateful I’m not giving you that kibble the halflings sent with me, he spoke to his dog telepathically, his annoyance translating better than his words.
It’s still shit, Kuro replied, and he heard the sound of his tongue smacking beneath him.
Just as Megumi returned to reading his book, using his translucent hand to flip his page while shifting in his seat, the door’s hinges rattled, and the bartender bellowed.
“My brother!” Todo Aoi, the most passionate cleric he’d met by a long shot (and he’d met a lot of clerics), slammed his fists on the bar. Naturally, it drew his eyes, as with every other adventurer’s in the tavern. He wasn’t expecting the raw excitement, the tears streaming from the barkeep’s eyes.
What he definitely wasn’t expecting was the most stunning, noisy man to yell back at him. Approaching the bar, he shouted in a sweet, chipper voice that cut through every other voice in the bar. He sucked all of the gravity in the room towards him, magnetic, irresistible. Were other people feeling this?
He was largely unclothed, and Megumi’s shock at the exposed skin was one of those pesky remnants of growing up in the fey courts. The musculature of his torso was not at all attractive (he was heartbeats away from drooling) and sheening with sweat. He was tan, warm-toned, with pale, healed scars covering large portions of his skin. Short pink hair, messy and chopped at, with a slightly overgrown, dark undercut curling at the nape of his neck. Of course, he was brawny and damaged and messy.
And, of course, he was Megumi’s type.
Boisterous, the newcomer and Todo clasped hands over the bar, greeting each other with enthusiasm that might as well have been a kind of magic itself with the way they radiated joy. On second thought, he did seem like a Barbarian—or, Megumi was just stereotyping, which he could accept—but the way he smiled was genuine, unrestrained, and full of gratuity. He watched as they talked, felt a surge of magic jitter his mage hand when he heard his loud laugh, tried not to burn up his clothes or the entire tavern while he did so. He seemed gregarious, excitable, enthusiastic, happy.
And oh, shit, he was exactly Megumi's type.
That was unlucky. But, it would be fine, just fine, he told himself. Because being attracted to somebody didn't mean he’d even be able to touch the guy, and especially not that he’d inevitably form a life-altering attachment to him. Attraction implied nothing like that.
In order to distract himself from the energy that was brimming beneath his skin, desperate to swell and let out in a chaotic burst, he brought his wine to his lips. He shut the book with his magical grasp, summoning another and placed it back in his bag, opting to read something academic, more grounded. The less romance, the better.
Finally, he’d lost himself in a cynical reading of a “history” textbook, when a pair of bandaged palms grasped the side of his table. Perturbed more than anything, Megumi’s eyes fluttered to the wrists facing him, the little fuzzy cuffs that wrapped just above veins. Tan hands. Sheer half-sleeves running up muscular arms, another furry cuff low on the shadow of biceps. Shirtless. A dark happy trail running up the low skin of his stomach and peeking from his trousers. A ridiculous, rippling torso with a huge, pale-healed scar between pectorals, and a nipple piercing that led to defined collarbones. A shoulder guard, more bloodstained fur fluffing from his gear.
Clearing his throat, Megumi finally looked at his face, and recognized that damn pink hair. “Can I help you?” The loud man from before seemed less joyous now, more smug and a tad bit menacing. But he couldn't ignore how he shifted in his seat, heated by just meeting his eyes. Jeez, how long has it been since I’ve been with someone? He wondered while taking stock of his jagged yet gentle features, another, darker scar running straight across his face.
A little shrug shifted the muscles connecting his neck and shoulders, “Well, that’s up to you.” His voice was boyishly nonchalant, filled with all the confidence in the world. “I- uh, I saw you from across the tavern, and I just… I had to talk to you.”
“So it seems.” Megumi’s summoned hand dog eared his page, the other shutting the book, pretending like he cared, “Considering you’re over here now, bothering me.”
The half-naked Barbarian chuckled, glanced off. “Yeah, I’m here. Bothering you.” He dipped his head a bit, and the shadows from the hanging candelabras fell over his eyes. “And I wanted to tell you that you’re beautiful, hot, handsome—whichever you prefer.” Without invitation, he fell into the booth across from him gracelessly. It was insultingly assertive, and needlessly charming.
“Any works.” He refused eye contact, not trusting himself to play hard to get if he did otherwise. Even though he craved to see his eyes again, wondering if they’d reflect the wild, raging energy that followed him, he deprived himself. Megumi paused, held his breath when he sat. “And, now you’re sitting in front of me. Bothering me.”
Smiling, he caught a glimpse of the sharp canines that made him look like a tiny wolf. There was a brief silence amongst them, and Megumi thought he blew it. His heart was beating a little too quickly, and the stranger’s elbows were pressed on the table, hunched and manspreading like a total piece of shit.
Bite his dick off, Kuro. He connected with his shikigami.
His dog huffed. Nah, he smells good.
You’re useless, he scowled, directing it towards the stranger when he looked back up.
And, inevitably, they met eyes. His stare was as blazing hot as a radiant flame. Amber and bonfire orange that seared into him, challenged him, warmed him, irritated him, bewitched him. (And, quite frankly, that didn’t seem fair—wasn’t he supposed to be the “witch” here?)
“Itadori Yuuji.” He stated his name, reaching out to shake his hand, officially meeting his acquaintance. “Yuuji’s fine, though. Nothing too formal. And you are?”
Dispelling his mage hands, he reached out, “You’ll have to earn that one.”
When their skin met, Yuuji twisted his wrist gently, bringing his lips to the back of his pale fingers. His gaze was low, dark eyes still shining under heavy lids, the wavering candlelight reflecting in enchanted tigers-eye pupils. Part of Megumi was appalled by the sheer audacity, but it made his constitution waver, suddenly wine drunk and half out of his mind.
“Okay, No-Name; you’re beautiful,” he mumbled against his hand, “and even if I’m bothering you, I’d like to ask if I can buy you a drink.” When he pulled his face back, Megumi lingered against his touch for a moment too long, giving himself away. Yuuji smirked, and he was amused by how pleased he seemed. (For now, Megumi thought).
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t suppress a small smile himself. A lot of men were pushy, sure, especially the type of man he was. But, this stranger—Yuuji’s—pushiness was different. It wasn’t ego, it was confidence. It wasn’t entitlement, it was craving. This was who he was looking for in his (he tried to count the months, failed, and scolded himself for trying) celibacy. Someone who looked like him, who was an adonis clad in bloody animal hide (Sorry, Kuro, at least you’re a shadow, he apologized internally,) who thought of him as a fellow sentient being rather than a body to be used.
Gods, his standards were low.
“One drink, Itadori Yuuji.” He reasoned, knowing he would break that rule later on. It didn’t even seem like an option: saying no. Because, why would Megumi—bored, lonely, and worryingly attracted to this man—be able to stop himself? Better yet, why would he want to?
A shiny grin he wasn’t expecting made Yuuji look like an entirely new person: welcoming, gentle, approachable. Then, it faded into a sheepish look as he scratched the nape of his neck, “Really?” He looked cute, passive, sweet, “I really wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”
Megumi couldn't help the crack of a smile that pulled at his lips. When he stood to grab their drinks, he drummed on the table before bouncing away. Megumi beckoned Kuro to sit beside him, petting him and asking, What does he smell like?
Wouldn’t you like to know.
He snarled, cursing his stupidly sly dog. As a bargaining chip, he took a vegetable off his plate and slipped it to him. Is it, like, the trustworthy scent, or does he just smell like meat?
You’ll figure that out soon enough.
Don’t be so certain, asshole. Megumi rested his arm on Kuro’s back as he settled in beside him, chewing loudly. Tell me, or I’ll dispel you.
Hopefully he likes manipulative men. Kuro grumbled a bit, the noise vibrating his thigh, Neither, you stupid witch. He smells like blood, soot, and soap. He’s good hearted and sensitive. Trustworthy. You’re gonna destroy his psyche. But he also does smell a little like meat.
This is why I keep you around, y’know?
My existence is purgatory. Dispel me.
No. Megumi refused when Yuuji returned with a bottle of wine in his hand. It was the same one he'd been sipping from the whole evening. He glared, eyelashes fluttering a bit in his borderline irritation.
The half-naked man shrugged, the fur on his shoulder guard shifting with him. “What? I know the bartender.”
“I know.”
“Oh, so you noticed?” Yuuji popped the cork with a controlled hand, which was a little impressive. “What—you had your eye on me, too?”
Vehemently against admitting his weakness, “Todo called you brother when you walked in. Actually, yelled that you were his brother when you walked in.” He shrugged, finishing off his glass before pushing it his way, “Hard to miss.”
Embarrassed, Yuuji poured the rich, red liquid into their glasses. “Ah, yeah. An old friend of mine, Aoi.” He pushed Megumi’s back over to him, and they clinked glasses, eyeing each other. “Y’know, we get rooms comped when we’re in town.”
“You don’t say…” this guy was so unsubtle it made his chest ache. At least he was attempting to flirt, rather than just asking to bed him with no questions asked. He took a sip, delighted with the sweet berry taste.
After that, when Yuuji started complaining about how he usually didn’t like wine, but this one was actually tolerable, things became strangely easy. He wasn’t a smooth talker, per say, but he was strangely charismatic for what Megumi was expecting. It seemed natural, not a honed skill—he just liked to talk. He was interesting, dynamic, full of stories and life.
For the first time in a while, Megumi actually engaged in a conversation. He knew he seemed bored, the façade that was always present with new people, he couldn’t fight it. But, tonight, he was asking questions, smiling in response, making lighthearted jabs, and casting a gust of wind at him when he said something stupid or flirty. (And, yes, perhaps it was because he made a cute, scrunched face and it left his hair windswept. Megumi knew it made him pathetic).
“Shit, I’m talking your ear off,” he acknowledged, voice pitchy and airy. “I’m nervous.”
A small snort, a laugh that always embarrassed him, “Whyever would you be nervous, Yuuji,” he dragged out the vowel with intention, “I’m not bored.”
“You look bored.” Megumi shrugged in response, “And because I’m trying to flirt with someone way out of my league, who looks like royalty and a celestial incarnate.”
That made his brow quirk, Does he know something? “I’m not that far out of your league. Though, I’m wearing clothes, at the very least.”
Yuuji smiled wide, his sharp canines like tiny fangs, so disarming and pretty. “It keeps me mobile!”
“And slutty.”
“Okay, okay, whatever.” He brushed him off with a grin, “Tell me about yourself, beautiful, unnamed stranger.”
His laugh was a mere puff of air, and he debated letting him know anything. If they were just hooking up—or he actually knew something about him, and was playing a part—why would he even need to know?
“You can ask, but I can’t guarantee an answer.” He sipped on his drink, and noticed Yuuji’s was dry, just a few drops left from his second glass.
Leg bouncing, shaking the table, he looked restless. “Agh, fine, fine.” His hands fidgeted before his chest, “Where’re you from?”
“Next question.”
After a quick shrug, Yuuji continued, “What’s your dog’s name?”
An appropriate question. “Kuro. He's one of my shikigami.”
“That’s the kinda’ sorcery you do? Shikigami stuff?” He seemed interested in a genuine way, but Megumi didn't trust his biased insight. This man was attractive, charming, and endearing—and still, he couldn’t trust it.
Nodding, he finished off his glass. “Mhm. I had another dog who got destroyed—Shiro. That’s why Kuro has this stupid mark on his face.” He scratched the spot between his dog's eyes, the white fur that ran up his nose and forehead.
Don't remind me. Kuro scolded him.
“That’s shitty, sorry to hear about that. He looks cool, though,” he chuckled a bit, looking precious and sheepish again, “I don’t do any of that magic stuff. All I’ve got is these,” he clenched his fists, the dirty bandages moving with his skin. Megumi had half a mind to clean them off for him. “Well, and an axe, but meh, that’s whatever.”
“Uh-huh,” he knew he wasn’t giving him much to work with. But if Yuuji could get through this without getting perturbed by his attitude, he would most likely sleep with him. It was a prerequisite, of sorts.
Shaking his head a bit, reminding him of a bewildered animal, he continued, “Is this your favorite wine?”
“No, my favorite comes from the Feywild, can’t get it here.” He responded instantly, waving his physical hand dismissively and using his summoned palm to serve the last of the bottle.
“Expensive taste, I see,” he raised his brows, looking at him with approval and silently thanking him for the top-up, “You’ve seen the Feywild?”
“Yep.” He simplified, “It’s pretty, uh… chaotic, and it scares my shikigami.”
“Huh, that’s weird.” He seemed interested, but didn't follow that train of thought. Yuuji’s questions were sporadic, ranging from “Where does your magic come from?” to “What brought you into town?” and it made Megumi swoon. He was so innately curious, looking at him with genuine interest and not just unbridled lust. That’s when Megumi decided he’d sleep with him. He was tipsy enough for the decision to come as easily as breathing; also tipsy enough not to fear the feeling that he might actually like this guy.
“What’s the craziest monster you’ve ever encountered.” Yuuji asked with the enthusiasm expected of a Barbarian, his eyes brighter than any spell could produce.
“A Beholder,” he shrugged, “Next question.”
“Wow, and you won?” Megumi just nodded. “Fuck, you’re hot. Can I take you back to my room?”
That drew a genuine, throaty laugh from him. Tipsy enough that he didn't care—he didn’t care at all that Yuuji just saw a sight rarer than any magic item. “You’re forward.”
“You’re the most stunning person I’ve ever seen, and I’d beg on my hands and knees if it meant I could please you.” His gaze was lusty, almost desperate with something strange like love. “Please?”
That was forward. Unexpected and shocking. And stupidly, absurdly, unimaginably hot. Megumi found himself struggling to reply, not sure how to cope with his blazing red face and the blood that rushed to all the worst places. He was royally screwed, and feared he might fall in love in bed with him.
“I- yes.” He stumbled. “I mean, yeah, whatever.”
His efforts of nonchalance were truly pitiable, and he was pulled from his seat in a blur. Yuuji kissed him right there, at the far side of the tavern, and he accepted it without hesitation. He would have slapped any other handsy, pushy man for doing the same thing. But he wasn't aggressive or grabby—he was passionate and kept his hands firmly on his waist—it was almost romantic.
No, it was romantic; it swept him off his feet and made his magic surge through him. Humming from his fingertips where they held his scarred face, he felt Yuuji shiver with the energy pressing into him. Not only did his magic tell him yes, his lips tasted like their shared wine and sour, midsummer cherries. For how intimidating he seemed, his tongue was sweet like his words, and lingered when they pulled apart.
The embarrassment of making out in a busy tavern settled in, and Megumi glanced off. Dispel me, Kuro sounded quietly in his mind, and Yuuji distracted him from doing so with another intense, but all too fleeting kiss. DISPEL ME! You filthy whore.
“I am not a whore,” he responded out loud, forgetting how insane he looked speaking to his shikigami.
“Um, I never called you a whore…” Yuuji looked distraught, afraid he’d done something wrong.
Rapidly clearing the air, “No, no, oh, no,” he felt like a nutcase. “My dog was just slut shaming me.” With a wave of his hand, Kuro disappeared, and he felt a little bit of his magic fade, weakened by his disappearance.
Disoriented with his brows furrowed, Yuuji tried to trace the interaction and all of his quirks. Clearing his thoughts, he shook his head, his pink hair looking soft as it swished around, “Ha, well, you’re not a whore, or anything,” he twisted Megumi around, grabbed his waist with one hand and began ushering them out of the bar with haste.
“I am about to sleep with a man I just met.” Their footsteps were arrhythmic as they drunkenly stumbled into the quaint, chilly town square. They barely made it out the door before Megumi impulsively pulled him back in, abrupt enough so their teeth clacked, and they laughed into each other's mouths. “Then again, so are you.”
“Damn right,” he sighed against his lips, ushering him closer by the hips, pressed against a slight firmness that was already tightening his pants. Megumi scoffed, emboldened by his arousal. He felt the surge of power that wracked him, and he must’ve shocked Yuuji where he held his face, “Ow—” he flinched. “Someone's excited.”
“Speak for yourself,” he grumbled, purposefully zapping him again softly. Even more excitement wracked him when Yuuji moaned, a throaty sound that rasped out of him. He looked a little humiliated for a moment. “Oh?”
“Shut up,” he deflected, blushing like a red delicious at the peak of autumn. Without letting him get a word in, he slapped his ass, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him up the staircase leading to the rest of the inn. “Let's go, pretty boy, unless you wanna’ fuck out here.”
Completely caught off guard, he let himself be whisked away, stumbling behind him before he was pushed against a creaky door. The hinges rattled on impact, and again when Yuuji’s hand slammed into it to balance himself. Taking each other in, Megumi dwelled on the feeling of his tongue as it slid against his own. He was assertive but not forceful, with a messy, desperate technique that made his head spin. His bitten-rough lips moved perfectly in tandem with his while the doorknob jiggled, struggling to multitask in his excitement.
Suddenly they were tumbling into the room, barely keeping themselves upright while maintaining their connection. Before the door could slam shut, Megumi’s cloak was wrenched off his shoulders and crumpling to the floor; he felt spiritually exposed, but strangely comfortable in his arms.
They separated for a moment, Yuuji’s shaking hands struggling with his shoulder guard. Antsy again, Megumi took over, a reluctant, soft laugh falling from him while his hookup pouted. He tossed it aside with little regard, and ran his palms along his toned stomach, feeling him shudder.
Yuuji grabbed the back of his hands, and he felt his skin tingle with his heat, “Your… Gods, your hands are cold.”
Feeling stupid with affection (and, appropriately, lust), Megumi kissed him quickly, “I’m not casting right now, of course I’m cold.” He started unbuckling one of the other man’s many belts.
“That’s how that works?”
“No, that’s how I work.” He successfully got one belt off of him, a couple knives secured on it, and tossed it to the floor. “You wear too many belts.”
Voice shrill and defensive, “What!?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s my equipment! I gotta’ have it on me,” they were now both working the buckles. A couple small weapons, tiny potion bottles, and a deck of cards all abandoned, lost in leather on the floor. Before letting the last accessory fall, Yuuji thought twice before grabbing a little bottle from it.
Megumi recognized it all too well, “You came prepared, huh?” He stepped closer once more, brushing some pink hair off his forehead. It fell back into place immediately.
He seemed pleased with the affection, eyes shutting briefly, “Come on, it’s good for adventuring, too.”
“You can just say you were looking to get laid.” Now his fingers were threaded in his hair, dragging his nails against his scalp. Yuuji keened into his touch, a shiver wracking his body. His eyes fluttered with a dopey, drunken smile on his rosy, blood bitten lips.
Bandaged hands scrunched the sides of his white tunic, “And I think I found something even better.”
Before Megumi could respond, the front of his top was torn clean in half. The screech of ripping fabric was the only thing he heard before being pulled back in for a weighty, lust-filled kiss. He didn’t know what he meant when he said “something better,” but he let the idea ignite a dangerous, irrational craving within him.
He couldn’t even be mad about the shirt; Yuuji was sensationally, almost divinely sexy. He was numbed to any outside stimuli. The world could’ve ended, and he'd be blind to it all, caught forever in this moment of inescapable desire.
Wanting—no, needing—to feel every part of his warm, already half-hard partner, Megumi pushed him to the bed, the frame squeaking beneath him. Yuuji’s breath shook when he straddled his hips, shrugging off his tattered shirt slowly, acting as nonchalant as possible. He couldn’t give off how ready and excited he was.
Hand on his waist, Yuuji’s eyes were glued to him from below, muttering some God’s name before letting out a low noise, “You’re fucking beautiful.” Almost absentmindedly, he fidgeted with the braids that Megumi kept long at the base of his hair, twirling one around his finger and rubbing the hair between the callouses on his fingerprints.
Megumi gave him a moment to drink him in, feeling the wine flood his ego and ran a hand through his already messy black hair. His composure was close to cracking, his carefully maintained indifference that felt impossible with this toothachingly sweet man.
Weakening in his presence, he sighed, slouched, and pressed his freezing, stiff hands to his partner’s stomach. Yuuji yelped at the sensation, hips shifting the slightest bit, friction hot against one another. Both visibly affected, they huffed and laughed for a brief, fleeting second.
Megumi was pulled down to the bed in a flash, Yuuji propped on an elbow for leverage to drown him in a maddening array of contrasting kisses. Against his lips: idyllic and affectionate, then assertive and passionate. His neck: elated and doting, then sharp and breathy. Yuuji pulled his hair, squeezed the dip of his waist, pinched the fat of his ass before they devolved into a fit of laughter that felt like the sun settling in their chests.
Every touch, even his bite, felt like a whisper of devotion, and he had a gut feeling he’d never leave this man’s side. And that was a new prophecy, one he wasn't sure was rooted simply in fiendish desire. The callouses on Yuuji’s palms wandered down his hips and tugged at his waistband, asking a silent question.
This whole encounter was leaving him a little spell-shocked. Yuuji wasn't all force, he was strangely gentle for a Barbarian (a group with which he had plenty of experience), and he was head over heels.
For the first time ever—literally, ever—he felt safe and cared for whilst having sex. “You first,” he requested, because the thought of him being completely defenseless, cold and exposed to a near stranger made him panic. Yet, he felt comfortable enough to ask, not afraid that he would snap at him for vocalizing his needs.
Without hesitation, Yuuji was standing beside him, unwrapping his hands, undoing the buttons of his trousers. The strain of his erection cast an impressive shadow, and stopped himself from salivating. “As you wish…” he muttered before stripping himself bare, stunning Megumi for a moment. There wasn’t much time to take in the image, because their lips were locked once again. Yuuji’s elbow braced just beside where dark hair splayed across the crème bedsheets, his other palm holding his hip. Their skin singed the other where they met.
Clearly, his partner was desperate to see him, palming his bulge as a moan seized Megumi’s throat. He complied, eager despite the trembling that took over his hands. He struggled, and the other man took over, shucking everything off him, smooth and abrupt. The room was humid, or was that just Yuuji’s body hovering close? Completely exposed, when he was staring down at his figure, he looked away, sheepish.
“Are you seriously shy, No-name?” His smile shined in the glinting candlelight, inviting and brimming with confidence. Palm dragging down his chest, so light it made him squirm a bit. Megumi just gritted his teeth, repressing that inkling of insecurity gnawing at him. “You’re a goddamn marvel.”
Now, Megumi could take all of him in, the way his musculature rippled down his frame with the force of an enraged ocean, a trail of dark hair tapering between his hips. To his delight, his cock was nothing short of impressive; almost frighteningly big, curved, flushed, mouth-watering. For a few quiet moments, they stared at one another, neither moving or making any effort to push further. Yuuji’s hand was on his leg, gently pressing his thumb into the soft inside of his thigh.
Shakily, the pink haired Adonis sighed. “I’m- ha, wow, okay, what did I—” before he could finish, Megumi pulled him back down, teeth clacking again as they met again. They giggled into each other’s mouths, and he never expected himself to giggle over a man. It’d only been a few hours, and his chest ached knowing he’d probably lose him tomorrow.
Yuuji kissed down his chest, leaving little red marks in his wake, sucking on the sharp bone of his hip. With Megumi’s legs over his shoulders, he gazed up at him with eyes like firelight, glowing and pulsing with heat. “May I?”
Usually, Megumi wouldn't allow this, but just the fact that he’d asked had him nodding feverishly. “Yea- yeah…” The shiny, smug grin he gave was all knowing, beyond amusement. When hot spit dripped onto his tip, he couldn’t remember if he'd ever received head, but he couldn’t dwell on it with Yuuji looking at him like that.
Yuuji’s lips wrapped around him, and he shuddered, palm covering his lips. His partner grumbled, the vibration sending a rush through his abdomen, a flurry of pleasure that engrained itself in his memory. Toying with him, licking the back of his shaft slowly and intentionally, with panting breaths as he did so.
Part of this felt humiliating, being so attended to. Yuuji ran his hands along his sides, pressed his thighs tighter around his face, focusing on his tip. Whimpering and choking back moans, not knowing what to do with himself and the attention, he couldn’t temper any of his reactions. It was then that Megumi decided he’d just let go—he’d throw his head back and cry out, thread his fingers through Yuuji’s soft, tangled hair as he took more of him in.
With a warm and messy mouth sliding over him, he sounded like a mess, and he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of this. It was heavenly, almost miserable because he hadn’t even been at it for more than five minutes and he felt an all too rare buildup in his body.
Yuuji hummed when he slipped further down, nuzzling into the skin of his groin, the smooth, bare, squishy spot he hated more than a little bit. His throat was tight around him, and he twitched uselessly, thighs tightening around the sweet curves of his lewd face. When their gazes met, shimmering cats-eye brown clashing with night lust indigo, Megumi shattered as his eyelashes fluttered, choking.
A pathetic, whiny moan ripped through his chest when he came, grip tightening in Yuuji’s hair. His breathing was ragged and quick, riding out his climax mindlessly, euphoric and blind. It’d been a long time since someone made him cum; it was better than the way magic rushed through his body after every spell, better than when he buzzed with a lingering high after an exhausting fight. He felt a tad guilty, holding his head in place as everything poured out of him–and also because this meant waiting for more.
Yuuji pulled off slowly, took a shaky breath and gulped. Sinking his sharp canines into the pale thigh beside him, he paid close attention with his tongue and left him with a dark bruise that made him waver.
“Oh, m’evogía… El ve mador,” he muttered into his skin, “el veī mador co coflo,” and another bruise closer to his groin. Megumi didn’t understand a lick of what he said, but was too distracted to question it.
The real concern was that he was still hard, and particularly how glad he felt knowing this meant more. More sex, more highs, more skin, more Yuuji. He couldn’t complain. Noticing it, too, the man between his legs smirked, face still flushed and unbearably cute.
“Huh, still excited, are you?” His thumb pressed to Megumi’s tip briefly as he shifted above him again, making him hitch and whine.
Before grabbing his face and pulling him close, he mumbled, “Shut up, I’ll hurt you.”
In between sporadic, rushed kisses, Yuuji made a noise of interest, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He held his hip like he was porcelain, and Megumi sent a little, harmless shock through his fingertips. Gasping, his teeth dug into his bottom lip, a coppery tang against his teeth. “Fuck, tu daēmo,” he swore, and went back for more, being held away.
“What language are you even speaking?” He questioned, petting the side of his head, still breathless, “I don’t recognize it.”
The way he looked at him was intense and paradoxically soft. Megumi felt priceless; he was a precious piece of magic and metal that Yuuji would never give up. What right did he have, making him feel like that?
“That’s neither here nor there,” was his response, and his brow furrowed. Yuuji laughed, beautiful like a true prince charming. “What?” his smile was infectious, “I can’t have any secrets of my own, No-name?”
Indignant (impatient), Megumi pulled him back down with haste, hiding a smile. “No,” he muttered into his lips, “no secrets for you,” he held his face gently, and bumped their noses together, “Itadori Yuuji.”
Stunned for a brief moment, Yuuji’s eyes looked glassy, otherworldly—caught in some kind of daze. The burning umber told him that he wanted to say something, but stopped short. Megumi was immediately swept back into an inappropriately romantic kiss, disheveled bangs pushed back by a warm hand. Caught off guard, he let out a stupid, fond laugh when an arm wrapped around his waist, pressing their stomachs close together.
Too romantic, too fond; this entire encounter was full of too much love for two people who met that night. Maybe it was all fate, if Megumi even believed in it. Would this have all been inevitable? Would they have always met and converged, finding meaning in each other’s heartbeats?
He couldn’t dwell any longer, because Yuuji’s teeth were sinking into his neck once more. Breath wavering, he thought about what he would taste like, if his cum would taste more sweet or salty, or entirely different. Ready to give him what he clearly wanted, Megumi sensually dragged his nails along Yuuji’s stomach, a little impassive knowing how much work he’d have to put in. At least this time he wasn’t dreading it. He supposed the act of pleasing him would justify the effort.
“Hey, wait—” Yuuji pulled away and grabbed his wrist, stopping him short, “don’t- don’t.”
Megumi’s heart stopped for a moment, anxiety wracking him, “O- oh, um,” he swallowed, “sorry, I’m—” Did he just ruin everything and cross a boundary? He must’ve looked horrified.
Chuckling a little, he didn’t give him any room to spiral. “No, no, amasi,” he kissed him gently, “you’re fine, I just don’t like it.”
Megumi assumed every guy like him liked it. “You don’t?” Relief passed over him.
Amused, he sat on his knees beside him, cock flushed and desperate where it grazed his stomach. He had to tear his eyes away from the dark hair that grew along his groin. “No, me carus, I don’t.” Instead of making any moves, he just squeezed Megumi’s hand, pulled it to his lips and kissed along his knuckles, “I won’t make you do that; it feels degrading.” While he partially agreed, he was curious to know how he tasted—but not enough to put any energy towards it.
Pushing past that, he felt so vulnerable, torn open beneath him. It was riveting, embarrassing, and, in a way, addicting. He just scoffed, looked away from Yuuji as his lips moved up his arm, “And stop calling me names in your language… you could be calling me a whore, for all I know.”
“I’m distinctly not calling you a whore,” he murmured into his skin, “plus, I don’t think that of you. You’re too coy for that.”
Defensively, he scrunched his face, not sure what to make of being called coy. “What are you calling me, then?”
Sucking a small mark into his pale forearm, Yuuji let out a heavy exhale, “Secrets, lepas, secrets…”
“But, Yuuji,”
“Don’t worry, No-name, just enjoy yourself.” His lips were against his neck again, and he offered the gentlest of bites, mumbling another string of words he didn't understand.
Sensitive after finishing and still aching for more, Megumi whimpered. “Yuuji, agh—” he trailed off, “keep— please,” he felt useless beneath him, and his partner knew it. He reached for his cock, grip slipping along his shaft slowly, attending to his obvious needs.
It wasn’t just wanting—greed and reward, all the likes—it was need.
Yuuji’s tongue roved across his neck and shoulders, biting enough to make him gasp, then licking the pain away with warm reverence. He’d never felt so bound to another person's will, had never felt the life or death desperation—he thought he might lose sanity without him.
Once Yuuji licked a stripe up his neck, sliding over the low part of his jaw, he came with a loud, whiny noise. The force of it made his chest hurt, and he pulled at the pink strands of his partner’s hair, which just made his pace faster. Cum spilled over his stomach, hot and sticky against the flat, smooth plains.
“Mm, futé, cetu,” he hummed against his skin, and the sound evoked a final spurt that wet his chest. “Cœulestus eck né covadii ca vo…”
No longer annoyed by his lack of translation, Megumi was just happy to hear the way his voice curled around his native language. A familiar shock rushed past his hips, though it felt warped and different, and he couldn't place it. Every second of this encounter was something beyond sex, and he couldn’t imagine taking any other lover after him. And they hadn’t even really had sex yet. For a moment, he wondered if he’d been charmed, but he would have realized that by now, right?
Yuuji was just perfect. Sexy, doting, giving; perfect.
Winded, overtaken by his release and still needing more, he pulled them into another too-romantic kiss. He never wanted this to end. Muttering into his lips, he repeated over and over, “Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji,” like a dying prayer.
“Yes, carus—yes?” He questioned, that assumed nickname merely a hum against Megumi’s tongue.
He sharply inhaled before demanding, “Fuck me.” Biting Yuuji’s bottom lip, his next request came out hushed and weak, “Fuck me, you idiot, just—” he swooned, “just fuck me.”
Probably stunned by his near begging, Yuuji groaned quietly. He pulled him back for an intense, but all too fleeting kiss, and looked down at him. “What was that? Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you… Maybe you should say it again.” The cheeky grin that lit up his face was infuriating and intoxicating.
Uncomfortable with how much affection he felt, Megumi shoved his shoulder with the little strength he could muster. “Shut up, you’re not funny,” he said, despite his small smile. Rolling his fiery eyes, he reached back to where he’d dropped the super convenient and not at all anticipatory bottle of lubricant behind them. That's when Megumi finally thought twice about this interaction: “Wait, are you… like,” he didn't quite know how to ask, “you’re not carrying anything, right? No diseases that are—”
Yuuji chuckled, making Megumi’s teeth hurt. “No, carus, I’m not gonna’ give you a disease, or some flesh eating rash, if that’s your concern.” Almost absentmindedly, he swiped some of the cum from Megumi’s chest and licked it off his finger. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t get around much.” Unexpectedly, he squeezed his waist and dipped down, licking some of the white substance off his stomach.
That visual made his heart skip, and he squirmed, “You’re- what are you doing?”
“Tastes good…” Was all he said, continuing his mission and letting out a small, contented moan, “And you’re still ready for me. Cœul, you’re perfect…”
Megumi had no idea why and, quite frankly, how he was still hard. His praise made him strangely confident, because it seemed like really he meant it. Most men like him were all talk, calling him pretty before leaving him in the dust to clean himself up. But here Yuuji was: lapping up cum off his chest, refusing to let him lift a pinky in return for his service.
Unusually eager, he stopped him from the strange, obsessive gesture, pulling his pink hair. “Yuuji,” he sighed, hasty, “exactly, Yuuji, I’m ready for you. Stop… stop stalling.”
“I’m not…” he whined, still clearly wanting to lick him, “You’re not ready, not quite yet.”
“Just—”
“Don't rush me, my evogía.” His command was hardly that; his assertion perfectly outweighed by that affectionate coo.
“Your what?” Megumi inquired, a bit clipped when Yuuji shifted him, pulling his thigh onto his lap.
“Evogía,” he repeated, but made no effort to define it. Megumi was about to protest as he poured the slippery liquid over his fingers. “Or, I could go with cetu, lepas, amasi, vida… You know, until I get your actual name.”
Fluid words paired with his dry hand squeezing his thigh; Megumi resigned himself to dying right then and there. “Arycăth prøst, just prepare me, idiot.”
“Oh, wow,” he rasped, head dipping to bite the inside of his knee, “I get it, now. That's so hot…”
Without time to form a response, let alone scold him for all the obsessive marking, a cold finger pressed against his hole. He hissed, unnerved by the fact that everything Yuuji did to him felt heavenly. If he wasn’t under some spell, which he knew he wasn't, this man was just an incredible lover.
Lightly teasing his entrance, he circled the sensitive muscles slowly, uninterested in pushing past. Yuuji’s nails dragged along the inside of his thigh, making his ankle twitch where it rested on his shoulder. He bit the smooth skin of his calf, leaving a bruise and licking the sting of teeth away. Every swipe made him gasp, and the tantalizing grazing against his leg was almost too much.
“Wh- why are you- just—” he choked when he finally breached, pushing inside of him. “Fuck you.”
A click of his tongue, “Come on, lepas, what’s so wrong with wanting to make you feel good?”
That legitimately made him pause, and he hadn’t realized that had been a lot of his holdup. What was wrong with that? He felt greedy, like he was asking for more of his share. It spawned some guilt in his stomach, thinking about how Yuuji had already gotten him off (twice) and he hadn’t even been touched. Unpacking his worldview was incredibly difficult while a finger curled inside him, thrusted slowly and with an intent to please.
All the while, his partner whispered a multilingual eulogy to him, calling him all sorts of things: beautiful, my cetu, my evogía, c’tala, baby, and Megumi was convinced this man was his perecke. His people’s loose word for what he couldn’t recite in the common tongue; his “soulmate.” It was crazy, and his head spun—this whole love-at-first-sight thing had always seemed like a bitter lie.
He stopped worrying about how noisy he was being, about holding back from bliss, as useless as embarrassed as it made him feel. Biting his knuckle, whimpering as he added a second finger, then a third minutes later. Crying out when his slow and careful pace quickened the slightest bit, his heart racing while his body twitched and tensed and he fell further into the pit of euphoria that would eat him alive. What made it worse: Yuuji’s hand caressing his face, thumb running along his cheekbone, and the gentle smile that barely made it to his shiny, golden eyes. He wasn’t allowed to look away—he couldn’t bring himself to, anyway—and sensed a rush that was feeling more and more like magic.
Again, cum splattered over his torso, and those heated, heartfelt eyes were burned into his memory. He fucked him through it, and seemed almost transfixed on his image, their eyes locked through every gasp and keen. Megumi must’ve been swearing in his language, begging for relief, because he finally stopped, pressing deeper and curling his fingers into a spot that had breath catching in his throat.
Leaning down slightly, stretching the back of Megumi’s thigh to stroke his hair, Yuuji’s sweet grin bordered on wild. The bump at the front of his throat bobbed before he started panting. “Are you always this… sensitive?”
Too high to think any better of it, he breathed, “No, I-” his head was fuzzy, his legs couldn’t move except to spasm. “Never. It’s usually pretty difficult.”
“So, you’re saying I’m the best you’ve ever had?”
Megumi didn’t even need to think about it, but he couldn’t give him that victory so easily, “Council’s still deciding, don’t fuck it up now.”
A small, huffing laugh, “Trust me, I won’t.” Yuuji kissed the inside of his knee again, feather light, “Almost there, cetu—you’re almost ready.”
Frustrated, he was desperate for more, to be filled with him and watch him succumb to his own pleasure. “No, just- just fuck me already, I can take you now, I’ll be fine.” He sounded (and felt) like an idiot for begging, but it was all he could think about. When he added a fourth, he complained, groaning with the stretch, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just—”
“Stop it, amasi. You’re tight, I don’t wanna’ hurt you.” His words carried a light command, laced with a fondness that would have been out of place if it were anyone else. It made his chest hurt like he’d been struck by lightning, and gave him the most destructive urge to confess his love while submitting to the movement of his hand.
The rest of the time he was prepped, he kept a scowl on his face, feeling severely wronged by not getting what he wanted. Megumi’s irritation with how good this man was with his hands got easily overshadowed by just how good he was with his hands. Frankly, the dilemma of a lifetime. Throughout, Yuuji kept his eyes on him, purring out pet names and caressing his cheek, while his legs spasmed with the budding overstimulation.
Not thinking, Megumi grabbed his partner’s shoulders, tugging him down to kiss him. Thigh pressed between them, the stretch didn’t phase him, and Yuuji’s fingers slid deeper for a moment. There wasn’t much time spent there before he pulled out, jostling Megumi further up the bed, flopping back on the soft pillows gracelessly.
“Okay, yeah, whatever, you’re ready, I can't- I can’t wait anymore.” Yuuji's breath was rapid and wavering, “How do you- how do you bend like that?” His hands shook as he searched for the bottle, padding around while refusing to look away from the man below him.
Amused by his sudden shift, Megumi caught his breath and watched with his forearm beneath his head. “I just do.” He fought the urge to close his legs, hide himself from the radiant figure staring him down. His gaze wasn’t intimidating, it was feral. Packed with the insatiability of a prowling tiger.
Finally finding the lubricant, he was suddenly on top of him again, lips at his neck. Sucking on the sensitive skin, Megumi squirmed and grabbed his head, scratching his scalp. “You,” he grumbled, leaving him with a trail of bruises along the column of his throat, “are the most perfect person I've ever met.”
Hiding just how intensely that struck him, he rolled his eyes, overheating under his midsummer stare. “I bet you say that to all the boys you take to bed.”
Yuuji stroked himself as he applied the lube, and Megumi’s throat felt tight. “You… Cœul, my evogía, you’re different. You’re so, so, different.” He shuddered while touching himself, his face a cracking jewel.
“Shut up, Yuuji,” he sighed, relaxing when he said the name. “Just shut up and fuck me already—” The words came out with more desperation than intended, giving him away.
Grabbing at him, shifting over Megumi’s slight frame, he chuckled, muttering, “Tolaus vizé t'uæriendo tausigeum. Præs…”
Yuuji had already breached him by the time he finished speaking, giving him no time to adjust before he was already deep within him. He groaned, tapering into a whine that pushed Megumi close to the edge. When he expected him to have bottomed out, he kept slipping deeper, becoming almost overwhelming. Nails digging into tan shoulders, he hissed and whined and grit his teeth, sweat prickling his skin.
Hips finally flush against him, the tip of his cock grazed that perfect spot within him, and his vision went white for a moment. Another orgasm ripped through him, and he clung to the man above him, tugging him as close as possible while his back curved off the bed. The movement made him slip the slightest bit deeper, and his entire body spasmed, legs locking Yuuji’s waist into place.
Any noise he made was lost to him, completely beyond himself for a moment as his brain zapped through his high. All he could hear was his partner’s soft voice. “You’re so beautiful,” Yuuji whispered, a hasty sigh that tickled his ear while he tightened and twitched around his length. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
This was starting to get absurd, and Megumi wondered how many times he would cum tonight alone. Whatever his body was doing, he didn’t mind, but he was starting to feel so drained he couldn’t think.
Wait. Megumi’s eyes shot open when the sensation that surged through him settled. It was too innate to miss: magic. And, as expected by this point, he was still erect, ready and still desperate for more. But this wasn’t just some weird fluke of his anatomy. No, not at all—he was doing it himself, unconsciously, with some spell he’d never cast before. He wasn’t sure how he did it, creating a spell that could literally enable multiple orgasms, but he had never felt so rewarded.
“Holy shit, holy shit,” his voice came out high and breathy, “S’u o ckurviă emansiă. S’u o ckurviă piëtæ ‘mansiă.” He insulted himself, I’m such a whore, I’m such a fucking whore. The entire night, he’d been so sensitive and, in the end, desperate for Yuuji’s prolonged attention that he’d been literally re-upping himself over and over without even thinking.
Kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck as he craned with his mouth agape, the heat of Yuuji’s affection could’ve left him with burn marks, “You doin’ okay, evogía?” Then, staring down at him again, he pushed back Megumi’s bangs, damp with sweat. “You feel fucking amazing… Cœul- you feel so good…” He cooed, pressing his lips to his forehead, breathing in his scent.
After that, Megumi was pointedly not fine, because he’d never felt so loved in his life. “I’m-” he rolled his eyes, “I’m great, ă- ăteda prøst, I- I just came, you asshole.”
“Yeah, I remember,” he let out a small laugh. “You just swore like- like you were in pain, or something.” The guilt on his sweet face was out of place for how glorious he felt inside him.
Smiling despite himself, he ran his nails softly along Yuuji’s back. “I was only swearing a little bit. Not about you.” He pulled him in, and kissed him quickly, so quickly it almost hurt. He frowned, unconvinced. “Don’t pout. You plan on just… staying here? Doing nothing?”
“Fuck you, evogía,” he scoffed.
“Well, someone has to—” Megumi teased, cut off in a moan when he pulled back a few inches, the movement sending a shiver along his skin, “That’s it, nïar băi.”
Yuuji’s face was flushed as he looked down at him, one hand threaded through his tangled, dark hair. His grin was pure, bright like sunshine glinting off the edge of a sword, and he finally started fucking him. Slow, affectionate strokes that had Megumi’s throat crackling through moans, hardly able to make a sound with how gentle he was being. Each movement was so tender, and his pace was starting to hasten, his desperation catching up with him. Megumi could feel each point where their skin connected: from where short nails massaged his scalp, where his palms slid against the rough skin of his back, where every inch filled him, to where the coarse hair that trailed up his groin grazed his skin.
Finally steadying his rhythm, Megumi pulled his (undeniably, at this point) perecke close, yearning to touch as much of him as possible. They licked at each other sloppily, groaning into the other’s mouth, sewing themselves tight into the humid magic surrounding them, the energy that held the cosmos together. Nothing was rushed; while Yuuji looked like an aggressive, self serving bastard on the outside, he took his time while fucking him.
And fucking him well. Making sure he felt every inch of his cock as he shifted, he pulled out slowly, thrusted forcefully. There was a hint of that ragged, rough exterior slipping through, before it seized him entirely. Rough Yuuji wasn’t rough like other men. He fucked him hard, not fast, and sounds he couldn’t comprehend ripped from Megumi’s throat.
Hardly able to breathe, he was gasping and moaning and whining while he tried to say his partner's name. All he could muster was “V’aest. v’aest, v’aest…” and hated that it meant I love you, in the profound sense—not the erotic sense. He was reduced to his native tongue, unlearning every word in the global language, reverting to the most basic, instinctual version of himself.
Their tongues still groped around for each other, longing for connection with open mouths, and Yuuji hummed when Megumi broke off to bite his cheek. “Præs, fuck, præs: you’re perfect.” The way his ‘r’s rolled from his mouth made heat ripple over his entire body. It took two more thrusts until he was spilling over again, crying out into the stuffy room, helplessly digging his nails into muscled scapulas. Cum splattered over his collarbones with the force of it, and Yuuji didn’t stop for anything, biting his neck and grabbing his ass. A growl escaped him, throaty and feral and passionate, unable to resist any of his raw, animal urges.
Megumi felt like he was about to drop dead, but semi-unconsciously, his erection stayed strong. The spell was something he didn’t have to focus on or even ignite, it was something easy that trickled through his blood effortlessly.
He couldn’t even shame himself for it anymore; not only was it impressive to have created a spell in the middle of sex, but Yuuji was moaning, mumbling into his skin. “You’re beautiful when you cum, you’re so tight,” he laughed, “fuck, m’evogía, you’re gonna’ kill me…”
Megumi’s laugh was more of a barking moan. Pink hair tickled his face, smelling like sweat, and the pungent, aarăgua fruit from home. It made his lungs ache, his heart beat in an abnormal polyrhythm, nostalgic. Aarăgua was used in seasonal ceremonial dishes; a summertime citrine, a tangy aphrodisiac that always stung his cracked lips. So, of course, Yuuji would smell like it.
“Carus,” he pressed their foreheads together, and couldn't decide whether he wanted to squeeze his hip or his ass, palm roving. “Carus, oh, carus, e’ll rein t’æd heice masör…”
Out of the blue, Yuuji reached for his cock between them, coaxing a broken whine, another easy orgasm. Each one felt stronger than the last, and this one caught him so off guard it shocked his spine. He clawed into his partner’s back, hearing him hiss with the pain of sharp nails. His legs tried to close, locking his hips into place when his cock filled him, as deep as possible. Sweat pooled on his back, the sheets damp and disgusting beneath him.
The magic that’d been keeping him hard didn’t cast immediately, a tell that he was probably fucked out for the night. But, damnit, he didn't want that—he craved more, his mouth watering as a chill spread across his skin, feeling the sore, touchy state of his hole. His mind started to slip away, and the euphoria was getting displaced by an overwhelming, unbearable pain. No, this can’t happen—he used the remaining energy he had, pushed himself to cast that new spell, too dysregulated to control it.
Yuuji’s thrusts were stuttering and his breath was ragged. The attention Yuuji paid to his neck, already bitten and raw, had him swearing in both of his languages. Staring at the ceiling, Megumi’s eyes were bleary, head spinning with mindless pleasure and the magical strain he’d put on himself. He couldn’t even think past the way Yuuji felt inside him, how full he felt, how he brushed the deepest, most sensitive part of him.
So soon that it almost destroyed his ego, Megumi felt another impending climax, building in his body as he tried to hold out for a little longer. “Perecke, my perecke,” his body was tense, composure hanging on by a precarious thread. He couldn’t breathe, knowing that any more movement than necessary would cause his brain to melt.
“I'm- m’evogía,” Yuuji’s breath hitched, “close—” he whimpered above him.
Half dead, hearing his broken voice was too much for him to bear. Trying to prevent himself from being any louder, he dug his teeth into the tense muscles of Yuuji's shoulder. Megumi came violently, noisily—but not loud enough to cover the loud poof that followed the warm feeling of cum spilling deep inside him.
A rapid sequence of events made Megumi as alert as ever, amplifying and confusing all the same.
Yuuji made the sweetest, prettiest, most unconscionably pathetic noise when he came. He mewled from the back of his throat, his breath warm and shaky where it tickled Megumi’s neck. Yes, that was expected. Precious, and further evidence that Yuuji was his perecke.
Megumi thought he was human; Yuuji was just some guy he met in a bar, a tan-skinned, muscular, regular-old Barbarian that was mind blowing in bed. That’s what Yuuji was. Just some guy.
But when he came inside of him, two great, white wings sprouted from his back. Angelic. His feathers were soft at the base where they brushed his wrists, and they stretched high above the two of them, shrinking into the ceiling.
Lastly, and the most jarring to Megumi physically: something swelled within him, stretching his insides as cum filled him. He couldn’t even register the wings, or the foreign stretch, over how much hot, thick fluid poured into him. Yuuji didn’t stop cumming, and when Megumi had fallen off his high, he still wasn’t done finishing inside him—his cock twitched and his voice was nothing but whimpers and groans into his neck. The neverending stream was almost nauseating, pumping him so full he could practically feel it in his stomach. But he felt complete.
When he was finally finished, he kissed and bit at Megumi’s neck, overstimulating and tender. “Yuuji, Yuu—”
“M’evogía…”
“Yuuji.” His voice was stern, though not angry.
“Huh? Wha- yeah?” Yuuji pulled in a shaky gasp, clearly out of it.
His body shuddered and vibrated when Yuuji licked a slow path up his neck, panting. “You- your… What just…?” All of his energy was completely usurped, and it took everything in him to keep talking.
“What, baby? I—”
Failing to verbalize, he simply touched the base of his wings, scratching between the feathers. Yuuji jolted, head jerking back as he groaned and tried to push himself deeper. Now looking down at him again, his face was wildfire sunset red, humiliated.
“Your… what did your—”
“Fuck, what the fuck? Oh, Cœul, fuck, I'm—” he panicked, running a hand through his sweat damp hair. He grumbled as Megumi continued scratching his wings unconsciously, “Ugh, m'evogía, I’m sorry.”
“Don't… apologize. Explain.” He struggled to keep his eyes open, exhausted and sore. Really, he wasn’t mad at all—it was all ridiculously hot, as was anything with Yuuji—everything just happened all at once. He was tired, loopy, his entire body on fire even though he had done very minimal work.
Still incessantly romantic, he pressed their foreheads together. Megumi could have started purring and kneading him. “S- sorry, it’s embarrassing. I can’t… I can’t pull out, just give me a couple minutes, I’m sure it’ll—” Megumi grumbled out an unintelligible question, “I’m, ha, this hasn’t happened to me before… Nei- neither of these things.”
“J’st talk, what are you?” His question wasn’t intended to be so blunt, but it served its purpose.
“I think people call us Aasimar here. We say Aanèlge, but,” he sighed, “whatever, that doesn’t matter.”
An Aasimar. A celestial.
Megumi just fucked an Aasimar—a first. Megumi had the best sex of his life with an Aanèlge, or whatever he said.
In the colloquial, less literal sense, he fucked an angel. That was what Yuuji was to him, at least. “And, fun fact, we- we,” he groaned, burying his face into Megumi’s neck and whining, “we have a reproductive instinct to knot! To, like, yeah… You know what it- ugh…”
He was far too exhausted to unpack the implications of the word reproductive meant for him in this situation, but his immediate response was: “Hot…” Yuuji laughed, a little exasperated. Megumi turned his head to his hair, inhaling his scent and kissing his head like a fool in love.
Nothing had ever happened this fast. He’d never been so attached or willing to lay with someone after a hookup. In a sense, he knew he was a whore: he slept around, couldn’t get attached, let himself be abused because that’s what he was good for. All he was good for. But, Yuuji was entirely different from anybody he’d been in bed with. This wasn’t just sex; this was intimacy. And he expected it to scare him, to make him skip town and hide and rot in the silent, uninhabitable In Between for the rest of his days. But he stayed. (And he still would have, even if they weren’t literally bound to each other).
And, despite what he knew about men—or, at least men who wanted him—he had a feeling that Yuuji was going to stay, too.
He could have fallen asleep there, Yuuji stuck inside him, scratching the impossibly soft feathers on his back, wings trapping them in a safe cocoon of warmth when they relaxed around them, both disgusting and covered in sweat and cum. The humming at his neck was what held him in that liminal, fuzzy feeling place between consciousness and sleep, not words, just little purrs (wait, was he actually purring? Question for later, or for independent research—) that were starting to send him to sleep.
“M’egovía…” he whispered, kissing his throat, teeth light where they brushed his skin. Another mark, another claim, another memory for Megumi to cherish in the mirror. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. Tolaus vizé t'uæriendo tausigeum.” His voice was smooth, speaking like melted, sweet raspberries.
Megumi smiled with no refrain, stupid with affection. Those words were said earlier, and sounded like pure love in verse. “Tell me what that meant,” he mumbled into his hair, feeling more at home than he ever did in the Feywild.
“Do I have to?” He chuckled, kissing his cheek, leading a trail to his lips.
“Yes,” he didn’t hesitate, but the word came out slow and slurred. The realm's most effective distraction, he let Megumi taste his tongue again, the remnants of sweet berry wine as intoxicating as it had been hours ago. Slowly, ardently, hypnotically, their mouths blending into a quiet catastrophe of sensation. Miserable, he knew this could never be replaced, and that he wouldn’t stop him even if he stole his dying breath. “Tell me, prøst…”
Their lips brushed as they spoke, “What are you calling me, then?”
“I’m calling you stupid; your turn.”
A regretful groan, “I keep runnin’ my mouth…” he kissed him once more for good measure, “I would spend an entire lifetime waiting for you.” Most likely to shatter any response, Yuuji pressed their lips together again, overwhelming him with the soft, heated affection. From within him, a slow release of pressure left him a little disappointed, half asleep and wanting. “That’s what it means.”
Once more he swept him in a kiss, and Megumi was too tired to wrap his head around the meanings, but he understood that this was an end for him. This would be the last time he hooked up with some guy at a bar, the last time he would ever take or love someone new. He was done searching, suddenly the realm’s most dedicated monogamist.
Yuuji kissed him like it was the most natural, thoughtless movement in the world; they must’ve done it a thousand times in a thousand lives. It took no higher thought to meet each other where their bodies bent, and Megumi was high on his skin and teeth and tongue.
When he started to ease out, Megumi dug his nails into his lower back, whispering a string of “No, no, no, no, stay,”s like a clingy, melted mess he didn't recognize.
“But, m'evogía,” his words buzzed against his lips, “You’re all messy.”
“But, Yuuji,” his name felt like a prayer, “You feel so good.”
“Amasi—”
“You can fuck me again, if you want.” His eyes were closed, but he felt the shock in his partner’s gaze.
“What!? You’re—”
Scratching his wings, “I wouldn’t mind.” He spoke like a deluded zealot, “You feel so good—stay, stay, stay—” he was begging, now, craving the feeling, the friction, the fervor. “Fuck me again, mǎțăie. Meye perecke, sæ nevǒui ve, sæă culïaa ve. Văi, văi, văi, mǎțăie- văi—” The common language eluded him, but all he could think about was the way Yuuji felt cumming inside him. Pulsing, twitching, flooding, knotting…
Yuuji kissed his cheek, interrupting him, “Whoa, whoa, baby—slow down, cęius…” He soothed Megumi like he would a skittish animal. “I don’t have your otherworldly refractory period, and I’d… I’d feel guilty if you didn't get off again.”
“Prøst mǎțăie,” he scolded, “sæǎ vreă-ku culïaa ve—măi, măi, sæ nevǒui ve. Văi, văi, Yuuji—” Words in anything other than his first language were lost in his blithering lust.
“M’evogía, I’m pulling out, now; I’m gonna’ clean you up. You’re too tired to enjoy it,” Megumi pouted, lashes fluttering to try and stay open. “And while you’re perfect, and incredible, and stupidly hot, you’re also exhausted.”
Pawing at his face as he sat up, muttering, “Sățè gêniia…”
His laugh was wet with mirth, love, “If that’s you saying you’re fine—hey!” He pinched his ass, speaking through gritted teeth, “you can’t even keep your eyes open…”
Yes, that was true, but Megumi’s eyes snapped open, bleary and immediately begging to close again. “Ne vërăt.” Suddenly alert, he hissed as Yuuji pulled out, savoring the last few moments of his cock inside him. Cum leaked from his hole, still warm, and he wished he could keep it inside him longer. “Kleijteiă-ví săangue,” he strained, the pain of being empty settling in again.
Sensing the sass in his voice, Yuuji squeezed the plush skin where his hip and thigh met, “Okay, I know you’re swearing at me—you can at least do it in a language I understand.”
Exhaustion made the act of speech laborious, and using his second language was helpless…“Năi, năi swearing.” He trailed off, realizing that he was indeed swearing at him. “Măit— I’m- ha, sorry.”
Finger poking between his eyebrows, Megumi squirmed, “Did I break you? You seem to have lost a language…”
Unable to feel anything but fatigue, he just scrunched his face. “Didn’t.”
“You did.” He kissed his ankle, down to his thigh which made his entire leg twitch. Megumi did his best to scowl. “You’re cute. And covered in cum.”
“And filled with cum.” His voice was a little too elated.
Yuuji huffed, a small, brief laugh, “Yeah, that’s for sure. My bad…” He shifted his pale, bruised legs aside, and the extension of his hips made him grimace. “I’ll run the bath.”
In a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving, he tried casting to clean them off. His hand crackled with the black and blue remnant of his magic. It sparked, did nothing, fizzled out and a worsening ache passed through his arms. “Năs-a,” his arm went limp, and he shut his eyes. “Don’t- ugh, it’s cold.”
“I’ll be five seconds, you’ll live, baby.”
The warmth of his body was gone after a forgettable kiss, and the next time he opened his eyes, he heard water rushing. Then, there was Yuuji. Looking like a God standing beside the dresser, ripped shirt in hand. His body was bare, the muscles on his back marked with dry blood and dark scratches beneath his shoulders. Wings tucked away, body speckled with moles and dimples, he could’ve been mistaken for your every day, average human.
But, he was so much more than average.
“Megumi.” The name felt awkward coming out of his mouth—he hadn't introduced himself in a very long time. He couldn’t think better of it now. “Fushiguro—Fushiguro Megumi.”
Freezing with his ripped shirt in his hands, Yuuji asked: “What?”
“Megumi. That's my name.” For some time, Yuuji was quiet. Megumi’s stomach turned.
Just as he was about to speak, start yelling about how he thought he was different, Yuuji’s voice sounded weak. “Blessing?”
“What?”
“Your- your name. It means- it means blessing, right? In- in the common tongue.” His words came out shaky.
A strange quiet passed between them, eerie and unnatural. But Megumi shook it off, nodded even if he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. What—do you have a thing against boys with feminine names?”
“No,” Yuuji clarified immediately. He coughed. “M'evogía,” he hadn’t moved, staring at the fabric that frayed in his hands. “Blessing.”
Confused and grumpy, Megumi gave a weak noise to signify his annoyance.
“M'evogía. My blessing.” Tone breathy and exasperated, he laughed. “I’ve been calling you that all night.”
Within seconds, Yuuji swept him into a kiss that stole his breath, holding the back of his head while pulling their stomachs flush together. Surprised, he moaned into his mouth, letting himself be taken away into the haze of abject bliss. V'aest, v’aest, v’aest… His head spun, unable to think of anything but this new, undying love.
Almost as if it were a trick, Yuuji hooked his arm under his knees, holding him like a damsel in distress. Not caring, craving the ridges of his teeth beneath his tongue, he clung to him. As intense as he was, every touch was so sweet with him. It wasn’t always sexual, not animalistic ruts or mindless desire; it was romance.
As Yuuji carried him to the bath, Megumi made a gravesite of his neck, feeling him falter. Salt and sweat tasted better on him, and he was starting to feel like an addict, lapping up as much remnant of his body as possible. He didn’t want to clean up; the moment would be taken from him, and the chance that he woke up alone increased every second he stepped closer to sleep.
Warm water, the lack of another body, a feeling like he was hollowed out all gnawed at him, Megumi grappled for his partner’s hand. When he started speaking, he wasn’t sure what language it’d come out in.
“Stay. Please.” His eyes were closed, and he thought that if he opened them, Yuuji would be gone.
Nails brushed his scalp, pushing his bangs back. “I’ll be back to wash you up, I gotta’ strip the bed.”
“Later… Later.” He felt like he wanted to cry, but used the fraction of willpower he had left to resist it. “I feel all… moîlir-ä.” The word in his home language was the only one that came to mind.
Yuuji exhaled in a half laugh, “Meaning…?” His touch focused on a tender spot behind his ear, making him grumble. “Damn, it is pretty frustrating not knowing what you’re saying. It sounds nice coming out of your mouth, though. Celestial’s pretty weird, I sound like some kind of alien.”
Resting his head on his knees, the hand in his hair followed him down, “It’s… it doesn’t translate well.” Weak in love, was his instinctual translation—and he wasn’t going to say that to him, not now. “It’s kind of… goopy and weak, tired.” All of the words he heard in court gossip growing up were suddenly very relevant. Moîlir-ä: that’s how his father described his feelings to his mother. (After, well, sixteen years of absence, and trauma lasting a lifetime). But he could sense the dripping, unmistakable affection, the regret.
Would Megumi live to regret this, too?
“Makes sense.” His eyes were intense, even if Megumi couldn’t see them. Yuuji was intense. Not in the stifling way, but the way misplaced magic could burn a city down, destroy everything in its path for a singular goal. “I’d be shocked if you weren’t. Your resilience is impressive.”
Mumbling, “You’re so touchy…” Yuuji’s hand flinched a bit. He could picture the ruby red on his cheeks. “Not complaining.”
The man beside him stood, kissed the crown of his head, and gave him a scratch that felt final. “Good. That’s- that’s good.” He hesitated, “Okay, I gotta’ deal with the mess out there. I’ll be quick, promis—”
Scoffing at the proposed promise, Megumi snatched his wrist when he pulled away, reactions surpassing his exhaustion. “Don’t leave.” He opened his eyes, praying Yuuji wasn’t just a fixture of his imagination now. Messy peach hair. A tired look in his eyes. All shrouded in supple adoration.
“What? This is my room, I can’t—”
“No, don’t leave now. Get in here. You stink.”
With little convincing, Yuuji rolled his eyes and slipped behind him. Legs bracketing him in, their bodies merged into one. They sat in companionable silence for a while, his head resting on his partner’s bruised shoulder while protective, muscular arms wrapped his stomach. Drowsy and dozing off, he swore he heard that little purring noise that buzzed from Yuuji’s throat. Megumi had never felt so safe.
A deep sigh lifted him, “Megumi, m’evogía…” he said, more of a crack from the back of his throat. “You with me?” There was something tender in his voice, gentle enough to make his chest hurt. He just hummed a response. “Do you…” he laughed, that same breathy tone, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Megumi’s heart raced; his body flushed; his breath stopped; his mouth dried out. Yes, of course he does—he was wrapped in the arms of a stranger who he must’ve loved in a hundred different realities. His hesitation was pointed. “Do you?”
Fidgety, he twirled the two little braids that grew past the rest of Megumi's hair. The tension in his body grew, and grew. Another silence, another beat where Megumi was too out of it to predict his answer. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t. Not until, uh… you.”
Unspeaking, nothing could capture the imprint that was left in the core of his being tonight. The bright, beaming source of magic that now whispered Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji, like an affirmation. A reminder that he was blessed by his affection. Was there a word or phrase in any language that spoke to it? What could possibly communicate that?
“Megumi,” his voice shook, “please. Please, tell me you feel it, too.” Now Megumi trembled, put on the spot. “I- I can’t think of a moment where I’ve been more in love. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, if this is what it feels like. I saw you, and I saw- I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
It was rational that Yuuji was terrified. It was entirely unnecessary, but his grasp around his core tightened, like he was afraid he’d run. Usually, he would. This time, it was Yuuji. Perfect, doting, handsome, charming, passionate Yuuji. Even if he wanted to run, there was a bind that’d been forged between them, and would always draw them back together.
Instinctually, Megumi angled his head back, planting a chaste kiss on the side of his neck. “And… you saw a life that you- you wanted? That was worth living?” He needed that—he needed to know that Yuuji saw a life that was more than just surviving—so that he could find a life worth more than just surviving.
As if it were obvious, he blurted, “Yes, that’s implied.” The sudden exasperation in his voice was troubling, “I don't- I don’t… I don’t know what to do with myself, Megumi… I looked at you and I knew.”
That’s all he said before his voice cracked, falling off into a strangled noise. Megumi ushered him closer, reaching up towards his jaw and holding his head close. Goading him, he mumbled into his neck, “I bet you say that to every guy you take to bed—”
“No, Megumi.” His voice was firm, vibrating against his lips. “I don’t sleep around. I hate- I hate being touched. And when I do sleep with people, it’s bad—and I'm not calling them… carus, or amasi, or lepas, or fucking m'evogía. I’m…” he strained over his words, choked up and raw, “I know I sound insane, but I think I’m in love with you.” Megumi inhaled his scent: sweat and bar soap and Aarăgua. Home. “Please, Megumi. M'evogía. Tell me you feel it, too.”
Megumi’s words would never be effective—they didn’t come naturally to him. He swarmed the warm, craned plane of his beautiful, bruised throat with gentle kisses. Soft in the way his heart felt tonight. “Perecke. Meye perecke. V’aest, mățăie.”
Whining, he seemed passively displeased. “Megumi, please… give me an answer. Do you—”
“Perecke.” He sighed, moving instead to catch him in a hasty, mind-numbing kiss, his chin raised to the side. “It's my people’s word for… bind—it’s like how people refer to soulmates, I think.” A groan, his face scrunching, “And I can’t believe you made me translate that. I’d hurt you if I wasn’t exhausted…”
Yuuji’s arms cinched tighter, and he sighed, relieved. Pulling him back in, he kissed him in the impassioned, romantic way that had to have opened a fissure on the other side of the realm. Tender, slow, just tongues and lips and love and the quiet trickling of warm bath water. Every bone in his body melted, and he felt himself slipping away once more.
After too long of teeth licking and heavy petting, Yuuji spoke close to his lips, “Okay, lepas, let me clean you up.” Not resisting, Megumi let his head fall back again, feeling all of his exhaustion culminate when his partner dumped water on his head. He massaged his scalp, his arms, his hips, his legs, and Megumi struggled to stay awake, soothed—safe. As he fell into an easy sleep, he heard a whisper of: “Rest your head, carus.”