Chapter Text
The hour drags just as most tend to do when you’ve been wandering the same tired halls since birth. Peering through the same dull, sun-bleached stained glass, listening to the guards padded footsteps over the running carpets. Things have felt even more grim since the king has fallen ill. It has only meant that Yuuji’s responsibilities have grown tenfold—he’s practically the one running the kingdom.
He shouldn’t complain, not really, and he doesn’t. Not to anyone but his bed-maid, his closest friend, his only friend. This is what he has been prepared for, what he has been trained and molded into his entire life—it’s all he knows. He will do his job well, maybe even better than his father had but that doesn’t stop the nagging boredom. Sitting in the throne room, making mundane decisions about who will come for dinner, who will sit where so that they don’t get upset, starting wars over who broke bread first. It’s infuriating.
He could be doing so much more.
Yuuji would like to think it was his ambition that got him here, that secured him the next throne but really it’s all familial. Between him and another, one who was taken from his side at a young age, two halves split. He tries not to dwell on the other, never remembering much of his childhood besides long classes, dance lessons and learning how to hold a fork properly as to not offend. As for what happened to the other? He doesn’t know, he never asked. Probably would have been scolded if he had.
Yuuji was a good kid, a great one. He had to be if he was going to fill in for his father. He watched year, after year as men and women alike would come into this very room and belittle the man he would call ‘dad’. His perception changing by the minute. Always sitting and wondering why the king wasn’t doing something, anything. His father felt like a pawn—Yuuji woudn’t be a pawn.
The sun shines in through the rose colored glass of the throne room, tinting everything in a dusty pink hue. Small particles float through the air as people enter the high ceiling room, footsteps echoing on the polished hardwood. They file in, knights and guards standing along the walls, armor near-blinding in the sunlight. Noblemen take their seats around the large table, outfits feeling too self indulgent and distracting for talk about disintegrating kingdoms and impoverished people.
It’s always pompous with these people. Importing goods and cloth from far lands to wear to dinners and galas, inside of meetings of twelve people and then tossed into the sewer to burn knowing their workers can't even feed their families from a days wage.
It’s sickening.
And Yuuji’s father allowed it.
Yuuji sits at the head, chair gold, tall and embellished with a deep rose velvet, such as most things are in the castle. It’s just as gaudy as the terrible people surrounding him. They wait for him to begin, to give the update on his father’s condition as if they care—most just concerned about their money and land. The men talk, spew information at each other, and as usual, Yuuji’s mind wanders to other things.
He feels it, eyes on him. He felt it the moment he walked in that first light but as the next of kin to the throne there are many eyes on him, all of the time. It’s something you get used to. But this? It feels different, it feels—familiar. His golden eyes scan the room, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. The wall of chevaliers stand tall and at attention, but none seem to pay him any mind. He continues on, down the row and to the two tall knights that stand guard at the door.
His breath catches in his throat.
Two auburn-red eyes, squinted and pointed straight at him. He’s sure the beating of his heart could be heard around the room, the way it feels as if it’s pounding straight out of his rib cage. A hammering so profound, he feels the need to excuse himself. Yuuji can feel the short hair on the back of his neck start to rise.
Those eyes, he’s seen them before. He’d know them anywhere.
His composure remains firm as he tears his eyes away from the imposing man. Yuuji raises a hand, calling his attendant over. He covers his mouth when he speaks quietly to him,
“Who is that man?” Yuuji asks without having to point or nod.
His attendant answers without a beat, his voice just as quiet. “That is Ryomen Sukuna, your Majesty. The new Commander, Sir.” He seems timid as if worried he’s stating the obvious and caught in a trap.
Should Yuuji already have known this?
“Right… right. Thank you.” He dismisses him with a wave of his hand and relaxes back in his throne, chin raised as he takes in the knight once more.
The man is broad shouldered, even under all of the armor his stature is much larger than the rest of his peers. His skin is tanned, scars mar his knuckles, face and neck—the only skin showing beneath all of the chainmail and plating. He’s spent hours beneath the beating sun, years fighting against others to stand where he is now, that much is obvious. The armor is heavy, yet his chest rises and falls with ease as his hands rest one on top of the other over the large longsword. Bits of dusty-rose hair peak out from under the helmet, too similar to Yuuji’s own.
“Isn’t that right, Sir?”
“Hmm?” Yuuji’s eyes move back to the table in front of him where all of the noblemen stare back.
One clears his throat and tries again. “I thought we could speak more about the arrangement next week. If that suited you?” His eyes shift uneasily over Yuuji, not holding eye contact for more than a moment.
“Oh, yes. That’s fine.” He waves his hand once more, dismissing the company. He doesn’t have time for this, his mind occupied with the man by the door.
“Call him.” Yuuji demands, sitting at the edge of his bed. He has his robe tied tightly around his waist, having already changed and bathed rigorously for the night.
It’s a rash decision, he knows this but the knight has clouded his mind for long enough and he won’t wait around any longer trying to decide the best course of action for trying to get in touch. Sure, the king could be seen talking to the commander but they aren’t set to go to war and Yuuji’s never even set foot in that sector of the property—it would be… abnormal.
“But—Sir—it’s past midnight.” Nobara argues back, the only person in this castle allowed to. His handmaid stands there, uniform immaculately pressed, hands on her hips.
“Did I ask?” His attitude with her is terrible, it always has been but for as long as they’ve known each other, it’s never seemed to bother her.
If he bites—she simply bites back.
“No, of course not. When do you ever?” She sighs, a roll of her eyes as she opens the double doors, beckoning for the servant outside.
There’s a low mumbling between them before she closes the doors again and footsteps are heard outside.
“Well, did you think about what you’re going to say to him?” She asks, her ginger hair tucked neatly into a bun has started to fall loose in the front as she pushes it away in the large standing mirror.
Yuuji paces the expansive room. He’s done nothing but think since seeing the man earlier that day but words haven’t come easy to him, something that usually flows through like a water in a spigot, something so simple as future king. Yet, he’s halted when he thinks of the knight—when he thinks of Sukuna. Maybe there are just too many questions running through his mind to choose just one? Maybe the man doesn’t want to see him at all, though that won’t be an option, of course.
A knock on the door startles them both. Nobara fixes her dress as she floats to the door, a man clears his throat as she swings the door open, revealing the broad-shouldered, thickset knight stands outside Yuuji’s bedroom door. His figure shadowed by the moonlight pouring in through the far hall-window.
Yuuji sets into action, pushing past Nobara and his doorman, grasping Sukuna by the arm and dragging him down the darkened hallway. Their footsteps echo just as his maids voice calls for them.
“Yuuji!”
He ignores both, ignores the clawing at his insides, ignores the growing sweat at his palm as he throws open a wooden door to the tower stairwell. He can’t be seen with a strange man in his room, the king? This late at night? Unwed? What the fuck was he thinking?
He wasn’t and that was dangerous. He can’t let something like that slip through the cracks again and he can’t allow Sukuna to fog his mind. If this is a test, Yuuji will pass.
Yuuji pulls Sukuna inside, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound reverberates off of the stone walls, cold and unsettling. They stand there, nearly chest to chest with how tight the space brings them together. The same height, their eyes meet first—the crimson on gold like sharpened gems.
The first thing Yuuji notices is Sukuna’s rapid heartbeat. He can see it in the large vein jumping on the side of the mans girthy throat. A speed that his own doesn’t match. The knight is nervous.
Sukuna’s eyes roam over him slowly starting from the top and inch by inch, goosebumps rise as if the man were touching him. It feels—perverted. No one dares to stare, let alone look this intensely at him. But this man feels unafraid and excited. Without all of the knight’s armor it’s like staring into a slightly distorted mirror—excess scars, more muscle. Sukuna’s hair is pushed back from his forehead but otherwise they are one of one.
A hand raises slowly, laying gently on the outside of Yuuji’s bicep. It’s warm, vibrating, like bodies colliding at high speed but somehow all in slow-motion and it feels bare through the thin silk robe.
“Where—”
“How—”
Both of them speak at the same time, talking over each other in rushed tones. Sukuna pauses, likely as he was taught to do and allows Yuuji to speak but his hand never leaves Yuuji’s arm.
“Where have you been?” Yuuji asks, his eyes still flicking around the man’s face, wanting to take in every bit of it even under the single candle-lit space.
The hand drags from upper arm to lower, fingers tracing over each bump and muscle as if Sukuna is mapping him. Yuuji doesn’t stop him—doesn’t even feel uncomfortable with it. He is a strange man, after-all and he seems to have to remind himself of this regardless of their obvious blood relation.
“Training.” Sukuna’s answer is short. Of course he’s been training, Yuuji has been as well just for different purposes.
“Well, yes, but where?”
Sukuna reaches Yuuji’s hand, fingers ghosting over his palm and knuckles. His heartbeat picks up, nearly hopes Sukuna will intertwine their fingers. He’s not sure why, why he feels the want to be touched by this stranger but he doesn’t feel strange. He feels whole.
“There’s a compound—to the east.” Sukuna’s voice is a much lower register than Yuuji’s, something that sits heavy in the chest and not so much in the throat. It makes him want to lay his palm out flat and feel it, he wants to feel the vibrations run through him.
“I’ve never been.” Yuuji whispers. Doesn’t know why, it just feels right to whisper.
“I know.”
Yuuji’s brows furrow, his hand lifting to do just as he wished. His palm laying splayed flat on the mans rising chest, right in between his pecks. His clothing can’t hide the feel of brute muscle beneath.
“Why haven’t I gone?” Why do so many things tend to happen right beneath his nose?
“Kings don’t need to set foot in such a repulsive place. That’s my duty.” It feels like Yuuji thought it would, soothing and pleasant. But he’s still upset with not having seen Sukuna in years, all under the shit guise of being king. Sukuna must sense his displeasure—”There’s nothing for you there. Overgrown toddlers with anger issues, mud up to your knees and pain. You have missed nothing.”
Yuuji looks furious then. Missed nothing? How could he say such a childish thing. Missed nothing. Nothing but years of Sukuna’s life, learning and growing together in a world where Yuuji has felt nothing but a hollow shell, an outsider. They were ripped from each other at such a crucial time and yet he’s ‘missed nothing’.
“Nothing but you, I suppose.” Still quiet, Yuuji speaks it as if a dismissible thought and he’s not sure why that approach has been beaten into him but it has and here he is. Feigning apathy like a king does.
He sees it then, the glimpse he saw in the court room in Sukuna’s eyes. A strain so deep that he feels it within himself. Eyes so sad they’re nearly void.
Yuuji swallows hard, realizing the hand Sukuna had on his arm has now crept up to the nape of his neck. The mans large, calloused thumb rubs softly against Yuuji’s freshly washed skin. Pale against tanned—two different worlds coming together in this slight space for the first time and finally, finally, Yuuji feels again.
Feels something other than boredom, other than the reeling need to be defiant and lash out at the closest person to him. Things feel right. Sukuna feels right and the fact that anyone tried to tear them away from each other makes him feel ill. An acrid, stale feeling in his stomach, inching its way up his throat. How dare they? How dare they not understand their need for closeness. Their need to be.
He wants to find them, whoever did this to them. Father? Surely he’s paying the price for it now.
Sukuna doesn’t push, he doesn’t take more than he needs or more than he believes Yuuji will allow him. They are a perfect push and pull—a balance at this moment.
Yuuji leans forward, his head turning, tucking his nose into the neck of his twin. Their chests fully meeting as Sukuna’s arms wrap around Yuuji’s shoulders without hesitation, as if he was simply just waiting for him—waiting all this time.
“Mm—Yuuji—” Sukuna mumbles into Yuuji’s hair, his mouth at his temple, both of them breathing in each others scent. Vastly different, Sukuna a musk that only comes from a man who has done nothing but work his entire life and Yuuji clean, perfumed and pristine, just as he was groomed to be.
He doesn’t speak, just revels in the warmth of his brother for the first time knowing that reality will rip them apart once again. Forced into their separate territories to live out their lives in ways they have no say in. But here? This? This was their choice. For once they made their own solution, a pact that they can feel. Where they’ve finally become intact once more.
“Sir Itadori?” A butler clears his throat and timidly makes his presence known from the other side of the stairwell door.
Yuuji is startled from the sudden interruption and tries to pull away but Sukuna’s arms are unmoving. He leans back just enough to shoot him a look, brows drawn together with a soft snarl of his lip that doesn’t seem to phase the knight one bit.
He clears his throat. “What?” He calls back.
“It—It’s late, Sir.”
Yuuji feels the need to roll his eyes. Late? When has that ever mattered except when a meeting as been—
“Shit.” Yuuji whispers exasperated. “Let go. Now.” His low voice is stern as he addresses Sukuna and his brother softly lets go, it’s hesitant but there. “I’m coming!” He raises his voice to address his butler.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Sir.” The man speaks rapidly.
“Yeah, yeah. Just step away from the door.” Yuuji orders.
He peers up at Sukuna whose eyes have never left him, thin and glaring. It’s not that he wants to leave, far from it, actually. He could just tell his servant to fuck off but his obligations rule over everything and that includes his carnal wants. He leans over, rubbing the ridge of his nose against Sukuna’s jaw before pulling away completely.
He shuffles to the door without looking back, knowing the sight on his brother’s face would be too painful to bare, feeling Sukuna’s touch linger on his back, fingertips pulling away as he yanks the wooden door open with a clank. His servant stands there, further back in the moonlight filled hallway, wide eyes and a nervous gait.
Yuuji shuts the door quickly behind him and starts the shameful walk back to his room.
“I—I’m sorry to have disrupted you, Sir.” The man speaks again. Yuuji raises a hand to silence him, not wanting another word to ruin the time he had just spent in near euphoria with the crushing weight of reality and his growing head pain.
Nobara sits in front of the glowing fireplace, legs crossed with a book open in her lap as he enters. Just a thin orange brow raising in question as he slams the double doors in the servants face.
“Went well?” She asks, a small smile forming.
He doesn’t even have the energy to muster to tell her to fuck off.
“What… no annoying comeback? What the hell happened in there?” Her voice holds concern now as she stands, placing her book on the glass table and following Yuuji around the room, helping him disrobe and get into bed.
He lays there for a moment, the silence in the room feels thick and his body feels cold even under the down comforter.
“It was fine—it was good.”
“Good? That’s all?” She tsks. “I sat here for an hour and all you can say is that it was good?”
There’s a lot to consider here, a lot to reveal and what he should or shouldn’t say is entirely up to him. People gossip and though they’ve been friends since Nobara was brought into this castle, she is still a worker at the end of the day and he has to protect himself—and now Sukuna.
“We spoke—”
Nobara looks on intently.
“A lot.” He doesn’t go into specifics, just tells her about where Sukuna has been and doesn’t mention how whole he felt in his presence. Doesn’t mention the gaping ache he feels now, laying here in a cold bed thinking about his twin’s hands and their pulsing heat against his back.
“Well, I’m glad you have someone else now. I can’t be the only one listening to your whining.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, having taken it down in the time he was gone. She blows the candle out on the nightstand and walks toward the door. “Seriously—it’s good.” She exits, shutting the door behind her, leaving Yuuji in the silence of the popping fireplace and his overwhelming thoughts.
He has to ground himself. Tomorrow is important—thoughts of clouding lust and a wandering mind don’t suit a king.
Yuuji kicks the duvet off of him, taking a deep breath through his nose, filling his lungs until they burn. He pulls his shorts down, exposing himself to the cool air with a hiss through his teeth. He’s already partially hard, an ache that hasn’t truly left him since brushing skin with the knight.
He turns over in bed, pressing close to the mattress, the image of a strong body, scarred skin, tan and warm floods his thoughts. He wants to taste it. To tongue every divot, rough and damaged, unloved for too long. What would Sukuna sound like? Is he quiet, not wanting to give in? Is he loud? Would he beg after years of having not been touched properly?
His hips rock, hands gripping the bed spread. Beads of sweat starting to run behind his ear and down his strained neck. He can almost feel it—Sukuna’s mouth on him, heavy breaths against moist skin as he speeds up his thrusts. “Ah—”
Quickly, he slaps a hand over his open mouth, stifling his moans before Sukuna’s name can leave his lips loud enough for the guard standing outside the door to hear. His body burns, eyes rolling. Deep breaths leaving his nose, his leg hiked up at a ninety degree. Imagining his brother beneath him, broad and tanned sends him over the edge. His cock pulses against the mattress, spend seeping into the cloth and onto his chest.
“Fuck.” Yuuji rolls his eyes, using the rest of his strength to flop onto his back. He disregards the mess he’s made to the right of him, his bed is large enough to avoid it and the maids will tend to it in the morning, won’t speak of it to him and with the commotion going on tomorrow, it’ll be a forgotten thought.
But Sukuna—he can’t be forgotten. Not when Yuuji forces his eyes closed, threatens his breathing to even out.
Sukuna is still there.