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Summertime was always Yuuji’s favorite time of the year. Not because of the swimming pools or hot typhoons—not even because of the katydid songs or the smell of charred meat. Yuuji loved the summer most because the love of his life wore tiny, tiny clothes and still sweat through the thin layers.
Megumi hated the summers, which he knew, but that didn’t stop him from loving the way he lounged in cheeky sleep shorts with no underwear and tank tops, just to throw his long limbs over the couch. And while Megumi “hated” the summer, he was well aware of how much he turned his partner on by just being there. He didn’t tan, and he didn’t enjoy going outside; he was pale year round, but every now and then he’d get a pretty sunburn on the apples of his cheeks, and he looked delicious.
And yet, even in the summertime, life must go on. Yuuji didn’t get much time off work, and, because of his boyfriend’s disgust for anything to do with sunlight or other people, ran most of the errands by himself. Every minute he spent out of the house was sixty seconds too long to be separated from his precious, supple, beautiful, fair-skinned lover.
Times like these, where he had to begrudgingly leave their apartment to get groceries and exist outside of Megumi’s eyeline were far more than miserable. Especially when he knows there’s a beautiful boy on the couch, skin smooth and glistening, heat exhausted and pliable for him to devour. Alas, he grabs his car keys and whirls around to his boyfriend with his limbs strewn on the couch.
He’s staring at his Switch with a blank face, his back contorted awkwardly against the plush arm. One leg is tucked up to his chest, nestled in the cushions while the other is straight out, his ankle just barely hanging off the sofa. Even when Yuuji’s standing right above him, he doesn’t look at him, just minds his own business on the little Nintendo island he’s created.
Leaning down to meet him where he is, Yuuji pushes his console down a bit, “Your spine’s gonna’ break if you keep sitting like that.”
Like a bed-headed angel, Megumi glares up at him, frustrated, and pouts. “I’ll be fine. If anything, you can fix me up when we’re old and gross.”
Just the thought of them being old and gross together makes him swoon. “So, it’s all on me to fix your mistakes, huh? Rude…”
“Yup.” He wrestles his console back to his face, completely indifferent to the situation. When Yuuji pushes it away again, Megumi’s growling is clipped by lips on his, too soft and too quick for either of them to bear. Abandoning his Switch and taking his partner’s face in his hands, he indulges in the affection, opening his mouth to let their touch deepen.
Temptation, that’s the word that reminded Yuuji of his boyfriend the most. He was the unholy trinity: the snake, the apple, the sex. His skin was shiny with sweet sweat, and his tongue tasted like raw honey and tea trees and ambrosia. Ever since he got a taste, he was perpetually covered in soot and smoke and sin.
Megumi breaks off with a groan, “God, it's so hot.” He relaxes back, eyes closed, lashes brushing his cheeks, “Get away from me, sweaty.”
Unable to resist, he gently kisses both of Megumi’s eyelids before he pulls away, “Whatever you say, beautiful…” he runs his hand through his partner’s messy hair, “I’m headed to the store, need anything?”
He hums, staring up at him, eyelashes so long that he wants to see them flutter and twitch and water. “Aren’t we almost out of lube?”
Yuuji smirks, “No, I bought us more a few days ago.”
As if that’s no assurance, he glares, “And? You jump me like a wild animal every two hours. You go through lots of lube.”
Guilty as charged, Yuuji squeezes his nose, squishing the metal studs on either side and making him squirm, “We go through a lot of it. Don’t forget, you enjoy yourself a whole lot.”
“Whatever…” he flushes, “Go away.”
When Yuuji turns, rolling his eyes, Megumi pinches his ass and slaps him as he retreats. The sting goes straight south, and he yelps as he jumps away. “You're so perverted, Megumi…”
“Says you…” The little laugh he lets out is precious. Yuuji mourns not being able to 'jump him like a wild animal’ before he runs errands. Megumi is paradise, and he’s a fool to waste even one moment of it.
“I’ll be back in an hour, love you.”
Moments before he opens the door, Megumi stops him, “Wait! I’m out of face wash.”
He takes this moment to turn, to look at his lover in his lazy glory on their couch and take in that shard of heaven on earth. It is a sight worth more than the second it takes for him to continue:
“It's the one with the—”
“I know which one it is, baby, I got it.”
Then, as if ripping off a bandage he knew would always burn, he leaves for the thirty minutes required for a long, happy forever in his garden of Eden.
When he gets home, the first thing he notices is that Megumi is sitting up on the couch, hunched over himself and staring at the floor. He doesn't react to the door moving at all, completely still, statuesque, almost haunting.
“Hi, baby, I’m back…” he calls out, hoping for a reaction as he moves the perishables to the fridge. Nothing came, and when he turns back, Megumi glares at him like he’s the scum and mold peeling off the earth. “B- baby?”
Approaching him like one would a skittish bunny, he only has a moment to register his expression. There's a coldness in his eyes, so rare and green and sharp that it freezes him from the inside out. As he spins around in the sunlight, Yuuji catches something glinting on his partner’s cheeks.
“Megumi? Megumi, why are you crying?” He follows him without a thought, a loud throbbing pulsing through his ears, blocking out any reason. “Megumi, baby, talk to me—”
“No,” he snaps. “Fuck you.”
He tries to slam the door in his face, but Yuuji stops it with a palm, the force rippling through his arm and stealing all sensation, and pushes through. “Wh- what the hell, dude!?” A pang of fear paralyzes him for a second as Megumi shoves him back a pace, “Tell me what's wrong, then I’ll—”
“Go away,” he shoves him again, and again, until he’s backed up against the closed door. Effectively, he cannot go away, so he wonders what his partner’s goal is, anyway. “You fucking dick.”
Eyes wide, he flounders, “What did I—”
But before he can finish, Megumi pulls him in and kisses him so hard his teeth ache. Immediately, he tastes blood, and more when his partner sinks his teeth into his lower lip. It takes everything out of him, every thought, every fight, and every ounce of autonomy he might have had before.
Every time they touch, he gives himself over, body and soul, to a man he would love on earth and underground.
Their kiss isn't normal—it’s horror and wrath and it hurts in the best kind of way. Megumi is starving and handsy and a moment away from ripping off his skin to eat it raw. Every moment is animal and passion and that fuzzy line between infatuation and fury.
Was this really just a sex thing? He couldn’t help but wonder as Megumi flayed him open. He knew the sweltering summer made him more than just angsty. All his lounging and gaming and sleeping was because the summer rotted him from the inside. He became unmotivated, irritable, and so depressed he couldn’t get himself to work.
He looked genuinely upset, angry when he stormed off, that he couldn't tell if it was play or genuine resentment. Either way, Yuuji couldn’t care less, because he would gladly sacrifice his entire being if he asked him to. If he wanted to take out his anger on him, so be it; no matter how far he went, he'd take whatever Megumi would give him.
Megumi pulls away, licking the blood off his partner’s chin before he grips a fistful of faded pink hair. The pain zips along his spine, his body wavering as blood rushes straight to his groin, unable to control a little moan from slipping past his lips. With no sense in his mind, completely bound to his lover’s whims, he’s forced to his knees.
The thud of his bones against the carpet makes him whine, and he feels tears prick his eyes as his gaze is forced upwards. He must look pathetic, already pushed so far into submission that he’s forgotten how to do anything but worship his seraph.
“Fuck, you’re- you’re so pretty…” his voice breaks, completely wrapt in Megumi’s sneer.
All he does is scoff, rolling his eyes before he pushes two fingers into Yuuji’s mouth, then parts his lips and presses down on his tongue. His skin is dry and salty, his grip rough and forceful as his fingerprints trace his teeth, jerking his jaw around with little care. The only thing he can bring himself to do is pant, horrified and thrilled to know what his unpredictable blessing will do to him next.
When Megumi finally pulls his hand away, Yuuji is drooling like a dog waiting for his bone, floundering over half sentences when all he wants to do is say use me use me use me until he’s red in the face. He whimpers, pulling him closer to nuzzle into his partner’s erection, staring up at him, begging to please him.
Instead of giving in, yanks his hair again, depriving him of the sweet scent. “You whore…” he grits, bending down until their faces are close. “You’re so desperate… You’re lucky to have me, you know? Nobody else would take you.”
As if to soothe the wound, he licks into his mouth. It’s a kiss that’s so messy and intimate that it’s hardly a kiss anymore, just spit and moans and empty heads. The ball stuck through Megumi’s tongue drags along his own, the cold metal making his entire body twitch.
He needs more, more, and he whines when his partner sucks on his tongue, bites it, and then pulls away. His mouth is so empty, so devoid of any stimulation that he wants to choke on his own spit just to feel something.
Searching for anything to kill the craving, he pulls Megumi’s hips forward, and wraps his mouth around the bulge in his thin shorts. The heat, the smell of his sweat and skin make his eyes roll back, unable to control himself from letting out ragged moans, just happy to feel something in his throat.
This time, Megumi doesn’t pull his head back, but runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. Yuuji is so weak that the affection almost makes him collapse, but he's already kneeling to a deity who has kindly given him the permission to touch.
“Sometimes, you make me sick.” He gently, deceptively, pushes him back, and ushers his shorts down.
His cock springs free, flushed and weeping and pretty just like the rest of him. Yuuji has always known his type veered towards broody, alternative men, but Megumi is far beyond his imagination. He’s pierced wherever possible, including his already very attractive, dare he say perfect cock. Everything about him is worth dying for, but that piercing is, naturally, one of his favorite parts of his partner.
“Well, don’t just stare. You know what to do…”
Snapping out of his admiration, he works his way to the sweet spot, first nuzzling and biting Megumi's hips and thighs. He gravitates towards his shaft, kissing and caressing him, worshipping him, and leaving him with a hickey on the side. At last, he licks up the precum dripping from his tip, teasing him by fidgeting with the piercing he loves so much.
As soon as he takes him past his lips, Megumi grabs his hair and forces himself as deep as possible. Now that his throat is full, he loses all sense of self; he feels complete, like this is the way God intended him to be. Repenting, seeking divine punishment for all his mistakes from the man he'll pray to far beyond death.
Adjusting to the intrusion, his throat spasming, he keeps his eyes scrunched shut, dizzy. He takes a sharp breath through his nose, relieved from the momentary suffocation that made his body feel weak. Every time Megumi uses him like a glorified toy, he knows there’s no other place, no other universe where he will feel this kind of bliss.
“Open your eyes.” Yuuji obeys. “Don’t you dare take me for granted.”
Why would he ever?
“At least you’re obedient,” he sighs, running his nails against his undercut, holding him in place as deep as possible.
Slowly, he takes his other hand and runs it along the front of Yuuji’s throat. The tickle, the slightest increase of pressure made him hum, clawing for his partner’s ass and trying to take him even deeper. His breath hitches when Yuuji squeezes him, and his hips twitch the slightest bit.
“Want me to fuck your face, hm?” His eyes show no emotion, just a cold, hard indifference that makes every part of him furiously hot. The affection in his hands is misleading, petting his head and caressing him, coy, gentle, loving.
Mute, Yuuji can’t express how desperately he wants that. But he nods with the little mobility he has, humming and huffing and whining—begging for it. Megumi smiles, and though it's wicked and sadistic and wild, it’s still a smile reserved for him alone.
“Why did I even ask?” He pulls his hips back slightly, and Yuuji looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky. “You’ve never been able to say no to me, you won't start now.”
He starts thrusting slowly, the soft sounds of relief too quiet and too beautiful, before his compassion fades completely. The squelching of spit, the small noise of his cock hitting the back of Yuuji’s open throat, and his ragged, unhinged grunts made the air heavier with heat. White knuckles in pink hair, Megumi uses his mouth like a toy for his pleasure, not a care for how rough he’s becoming.
All Yuuji can do is take it and admire him through his watery eyes, his throat run ragged and sore. Megumi looks down on him, condescending, and brushes his damp, dark bangs out of his face, his pace unrelenting. His God is so beautiful, even with sin in his eyes, with nothing but possession and hatred for his pathetic disciple.
Straining in his shorts, he’s so hard that it hurts. Every time Megumi bottoms out, his erection twitches, struggling to keep himself together. The friction in his mouth is enough to make his entire lower body numb, shivering and limp.
Megumi runs his knuckles along the bridge of his nose. “Breathe in,” he commands, and after half a breath, he squeezes Yuuji’s nostrils, cutting off all airflow.
He doesn’t panic, because Megumi knows this is what he likes—it’s what he yearns for. There’s a certain freedom in being suffocated by someone he loves; doesn’t have to think about life or afterlife, it’s all being dictated for him. All he has to worry about is being the best mouth, the best object, and the best partner Megumi’s ever had.
The powerlessness, the fear, and more than anything, the pleasure, makes him completely rabid. Asphyxiating and cutting off his access to life was thrilling, horrifying, and—fuck, he’s gonna’ cum if Megumi keeps treating him like this. And he continues carelessly, because Yuuji has begged him time and time again to take everything that he wants from him.
He can feel the pressure building in his head, the tightness of his chest and throat and cock as he tries to hold out for as long as possible. If he can last just a little longer, Megumi might praise him, or maybe let him worship other parts of his body later.
Megumi’s pace is messy and ragged; they destroy themselves in each other’s eyes, a mess of love and sex and sin. The beautiful man above him moans, loud and unashamed, as Yuuji’s body struggles under the suffocation. His head is woozy, and the panic begins to set in: Megumi could kill him, yes, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. The pressure and fear gather in his face, and he feels his consciousness struggle.
Just as stars explode behind his eyes, Megumi frees him. The breath he takes is cold like life and he comes just as the heavenly light fades away, while his partner pushes his nose to his groin. He holds his head in place, his body shuddering and bending as he spills over deep into Yuuji’s throat. His cock pulses and twitches, testing the limits of his windpipe as the hot liquid slips into his waiting body.
They’re amalgamations of ecstasy and each other, a God and a zealot, a constant feedback loop of faith. Yuuji is so blessed, his piety has paid off; Yuuji is so happy he wants to die—he wishes Megumi had killed him so this is the last thing he’d be remembered for.
Megumi pulls out, and the emptiness makes Yuuji want to sob. He can’t form a sentence, lightheaded from the rush of his orgasm. He’s a babbling mess of gratitude and prayers. Greed pools within him, and he can’t shake the need for more.
“At least you’re good for one thing.” Megumi pushes his lover’s bangs back, staring down at his spit slick visage. “Good boy.”
Yuuji is still twitching and shuddering from his climax, and his partner raises a brow. “S- sorry…” he apologizes, knowing he’s about to be scolded for coming early.
Wild eyed with an even wilder smile, Megumi laughs, patronizing and uncontrolled. He presses his bare foot to his crotch, applying enough pressure for Yuuji to cry out in agony.
“Oh, that’s rich…” he mocks, pulling his hair again and shifting his foot—torturing him. “You're disgusting.” Suddenly, he pushes his head into the side of the bed, the pressure fierce and intense as Megumi repeatedly fidgets with him through his shorts. “And, you’re still hard. What a mess…”
Yuuji grins, his nose running, the excess of drool running down the corner of his mouth. “It’s ‘cause I love you, my bunny…”
“Oh, do you, really?” Suddenly, Megumi pulls his hair and forces him to his feet. He angles his head back with his grip, and analyzes his messy, tear-stained face. “Why don’t you show me just how much you love me, then?”
Yuuji is thrown to the bed, once again staring up at his deity as he casts him into trial after trial. It doesn’t matter how badly he’s hurt, choked, slapped, or humiliated—he will do anything to prove his love, even if it kills him. Megumi crawls over him, straddling his hips and stripping his t-shirt, a challenge in his shining, furiously green eyes.
Touching him is a privilege, he knows, and he wouldn’t dare take it for granted. So, Yuuji holds the thin divot of his waist, feeling the contact sparkle throughout his body. Just his palms against soft skin could send him spiralling, but he must persevere in this test of faith. He needs Megumi to know just how precious he is; something is clearly bothering him, and if his reverence can soothe his partner in any way, he would kneel until he forgot how to stand.
Slowly, he sits up, leaves Megumi with a soft, chaste kiss before gently ushering him to the bed. The little pout on his lovers’ face pacifies him immediately, affection striking his chest so forcefully it physically pushes his back. Shifting those pretty, pale legs over his shoulder, he kisses the inside of his knee first, sucking the inside of his calf and leaving a trail of spit and bruise down his leg.
To accentuate his devotion, he kisses the top of Megumi’s foot and leaves a mark on the tendons, chuckling when he shudders. A tiny, begrudging whimper falls from his lips, but he stays flat on his back with his arms crossed, his legs twitching sporadically. He pays attention to both of his feet, massaging the other with his free hand while he licks up his accentuated, dancerly arch.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “You’re such a freak,” he insults, as if it’s any surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be so obsessed with my feet, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I could stand still and you’d be turned on.”
Tongue swirling on the sole of his foot, and Yuuji shrugs as his partner’s entire leg spasms. “I’m obsessed with you…” he sucks on the arch, licks up the sole to his big toe, and moves onto his other foot. “Every part of you is so beautiful, it’d be a shame to leave your pretty feet out of the fun.”
“Sounds like someone has a foot fetish.”
Yuuji whines, “I don’t have a foot fetish, I have a you fetish.”
He tries to pull his foot back, “That’s so corny, I’m done—”
“Nooo,” he wrestles for his partner’s limb, incessantly kissing and biting and marking it until he’s squirming away. Ticklish and smiling, he looks lovely as he squeals, trying to run from the contact. “I love you, I love you, let me keep touching you.”
“Yuuji—”
“Please, I’ll be good,” he hums, grappling his ankles and frowning down at him. Hair messy and ruffled, the pout across Megumi’s perfect, pierced lips weakens him. He just rolls his eyes, allowing him to continue with a flick of his wrist.
Now that he’s taken a moment to admire the sight beneath him, he sighs. Every part of him aches with his sheer, religious affection. His body is naturally soft and lamblike, his long limbs wobbly and unsteady under any kind of attention. If it weren’t for the metal embedded in his skin, his physique would seem innocent, untouched, virginal. The tip of his cock, the low skin of his soft, flat navel, his nipples, his lips, his tongue, his nose, his cheeks, his brows… So many parts of him rendered with silver jewelry, the finishing touches on his already perfect skin. Yuuji knew he did it for his own reasons, his own insecurities, but damnit, it made him so much easier to worship.
He leaves marks along every inch of his legs until he’s biting over blooming, bloody hickies. Then his stomach, where he wiggles and twitches with every flick of his tongue. Yuuji’s only allowed there for a few bites, but hearing Megumi’s laugh is worth having his hair pulled and his face pinched. It’s tragic, the way the sound reverberates through his brain over and over, even as he’s obsessively kissing up his arms. He can imagine himself on his death bed, his final thought of that laugh, his funeral bells singing as he slips into a final goodnight.
When Megumi is suitably marked, a breathy mess beneath him, Yuuji pulls away and stares at his masterpiece. He’s properly in heaven when his partner drawls, “You done?”
Even though he wants to kiss him until there’s nothing left but Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji on his skin, he sits back on his heels, whines as he says, “Yeah…”
“Don’t act so dejected…” he rolls his eyes, “I was going to let you prep me, but it seems like that’s not a priority for you.”
Yuuji squeaks, flounders, “What!?”
“You could’ve prepped me, but you chose your dirty little foot fetish over that.” He clicks his tongue, quirks his lip in fake disappointment, “Too bad…”
Megumi sits up on his elbows, and the shadows of his collarbones are deep and sharp. Yuuji wants to rip into his chest and eat the organs his sternum protects in vain. “Please, Megumi, I’m sorry, let me touch you, I—”
“Stop begging, it’s embarrassing.” He reaches back to snatch the lube from the nightstand, sizing up the thick liquid in the plastic bottle. Glaring, his disappointment is genuine. “And, I told you we need more lube.”
“I didn’t think we were going through it that fast…”
Megumi sits up, his legs slumped over his partner’s thighs, “It’s because you always use too much.” He uncaps the bottle, squeezing a fair amount on his fingers.
Furrowing his brows, Yuuji huffs, “I just don’t wanna hurt you…” His boyfriend just stares at him, lowering his gaze as if he doesn’t believe him. “Okay, yeah, sure, the sound turns me on—but, please let me prep you, baby, I wanna’ prep you, I wanna’ make you feel good…”
There’s a sheen in his green eyes, and a vigorous hope sparks in Yuuji’s heart. He’s giddy, he gets to touch him more, please him more, worship him more. He knew that Megumi enjoyed it more than doing it himself, so it made the most sense to allow his partner to relieve the task.
Megumi hums and leans in, his voice light, “No.” Too quickly to comprehend, he pecks him so lightly it hurts, and falls onto his back.
“Wha—” Yuuji’s voice cracks, heart wrung wrought, as Megumi reaches between his own legs.
Swirling the lube around his rim, he shivers when the cold liquid spreads along the sensitive spot. His hands are dainty and well manicured, his long nails pretty and pornographic. Yuuji is painfully jealous when his thin fingers slip past his hole. Slowly, he starts to fuck himself without a care in the world, his free hand roaming his chest and pressing against his sensitive nipples. Reaching for the shitty little tattoo by Megumi’s hip, his hand is quickly batted away, the sting of his knuckles exhilarating as much as it is disappointing.
“Don’t touch me.” He commands, his gaze is mostly lashes and blown out pupils. He smirks when his partner lets out a high, long whimper. “How mistreated you are…”
Exaggerated, he frowns, “Why don’t you love me…” he draws out the final vowel. He’s desperate to tear his eyes away from his partner’s hole, gripping his thin fingers so tightly. It’s so inefficient to prep himself—his fingers are smaller, and it’ll take so long for him to stretch out…
“It’s because I love you. Reluctantly.” His eyes roll back as he pushes even deeper, “Good boys are only good because they’re disciplined. You could use some of that.”
His chest aches, and he feels the gut punch spread through his whole frame. The thought fills him with a dejection so profound he could only attribute it to heavenly spite. “I’m not good?”
A third finger breaches his rim, and Yuuji thinks he might cry. Megumi moans, his head back, his spine arching, his lips parted. He’s so gorgeous; he’s holy and he’s divinity and the original sin and he’s fanged, vicious, venomous.
“Fuck, I think this might feel better than you do… Are you really that bad with your hands?”
Bitterness, indignance, and rebellion blind him to his command. He loses all sense of control in the degradation. “Stop lying…” he whines, and willingly disobeys what his deity asks of him.
Reaching between his partner’s legs, he hastily forces three more fingers inside him, stretching him out with little time to prepare. Their position is rather intimate, his palm cradling Megumi’s own and guiding it along, setting a rough, impatient pace. Without the willpower to punish him, his lover’s body tenses and twitches beneath him.
It’s obvious Megumi’s holding his breath, caught in his throat as he’s pried open wide with his own sacred fingers complicit in the sinful act. He’s hiding a moan, and Yuuji knows it better than anyone that he absolutely can’t resist his thick, strong hands. When Megumi finally lets go, it’s unworldly, so far beyond what mortality can bear, because he is godlike. Loud and piercing and shaky, he moans, and his hole starts to spasm uncontrollably; Yuuji just keeps fucking him through it.
Cum splatters over his chest, a sudden burst of semen that catches them both off guard. Still a little irritated by the insult, he doesn’t slow his pace, savoring the lewd, wet squelching noise that drives him absolutely mad. He’s devout, he’s a zealot. He’s a sinner, and he’s ready to atone for his wrongdoings.
He pulls out, taking Megumi’s fingers with him, and stares down at his shuddering partner with a twisted sense of victory. Even when a palm whizzes towards his face and the sharp contact leaves him with an intense sting across his cheek, he doesn’t regret it. All he does is smile and tug off his pants, grinning with his entire heart, because fuck this man is perfect for him.
Riding the high of not only getting his partner off so easily, but the instinctual spit of anger from getting slapped, he grabs Megumi by the hips and flips him to his stomach. Halfway to losing his mind, he smacks his ass, happy to hear the little moan he lets out at the impact before he spreads him open.
He knows he’ll be damned forever after this, but at least he’ll be remembered in the eyes of his God as a scorned worshipper. Their bodies are so familiar with each other that he finds where they intersect immediately, not waiting for him to adjust before slipping as far in as possible until Megumi’s wailing.
“Punish me later,” he brackets his lover in, leaning over to sink his teeth deep into the back of his neck. He pushes his head to the side, his fingers laced through dark hair, and bites into the apple of his cheek.
Megumi’s eyes are glossy, his lashes heavy and fluttering. He grits his teeth as his partner starts thrusting, overstimulated and out of control. Drool slips from his mouth and pools on the sheets. Sloppily, Yuuji dips down to kiss him, mostly catching the side of his mouth and licking him like some feral beast.
“Fuck- ngh, fuck… you.” He grits out, his pretty fingers gripping the sheets above his head. Pinned down and exhausted, he can’t squirm away the way he wants to—there’s absolutely nothing he can do.
The power trip is intoxicating, and Megumi is so tight and warm that he doesn’t care if he gets hit or scorned. All that matters is how his sweat tastes like holy water and the blood on the back of his neck like wine. He keeps at this for as long as he can, reveling in the warmth, in the animalism, in the way he is finally back in control.
Though, only moments later, Megumi reaches back and digs his nails into Yuuji’s hair, pulling hard enough for him to weaken for just a moment. His partner elbows him in the ribs, knocking him off balance before squirming away and pinning his head down with a foot.
“You’re fucking bold,” he sounds crazed, and quickly pulls him up by the hair. They’re smiling at each other like wild, hungry animals, breathing ragged and unsteady, stuck in the middle of a ritual of blood and love and madness. “You’re asking for me to fuck up your face, huh?”
Yuuji, high on the sight of his lover’s rage, nods profusely, panting and crawling closer. “Hit me. Do it, please, I deserve it.”
Curling his lip, Megumi holds him back by the hair, stopping his approach. “You’re so shameless. Pathetic.”
Drooling, completely out of his mind, he nods, “Yeah, pathetic—uh-huh.” He tries so hard to move closer, but the hold on his hair is too firm. “I’m- I’m yours, all yours.”
“Clearly.” He grumbles, annoyed, and Yuuji knows they both enjoy it more when he’s pissed off. “On your back.”
Yuuji obeys, lays back on the bed as his foot twitches anxiously. He knows he’s done something bad, and while he enjoyed it in the moment, he soon regrets ignoring orders… but the rush was so good.
“I’m- m’sorry, Megumi,” he whimpers as his partner grabs the lube.
Stopping with the bottle in his hand, he cocks his head, “For what, hm?”
“F- for…” his voice shakes as Megumi stares at him, cold and intense and angry. “For disobeying you…”
“Oh, Yuuji…” he coos, his gentility like whiplash. He pours the cold, thick liquid over his partner’s cock, which twitches under the new sensation. Slowly, so slowly that it’s torturous and awful and hellish compared to the previous warmth of his hole, he swirls his delicate fingers over the tip, pouting as he smears it along his shaft. “You weren’t just disobedient…”
“Wh- what? Baby…” He whines as Megumi climbs on top of him, straddling his stomach and running his fingerprints down the space between his ribcage. The softness isn’t comforting, it’s unnerving; staring up at the beautiful, incomprehensible, hypnotizing seraph is never terrifying at first—it strikes love, reverence, gratuity, blessing, aching, then, at last, anguish.
Quiet, but not in the comfortable, content way he is so familiar with, Megumi sighs, and aligns their bodies together. He’s mad, he’s really mad, isn’t he? Yuuji needs to grovel, he needs to do everything to make up for his misdeeds—Yuuji needs to die for the sins he has committed.
Serpentine, sharp, sensual green eyes meet his, and he feels the spiritual punishment for his shameful temptation.
“No, no… you haven’t just been disobedient, Yuuji—you’ve been bad.”
Yuuji’s cock slips into his lover’s, his seraph’s, his God’s warm hole, and he shatters.
There’s no catch, no sudden, rough discipline that he expects. Megumi shifts slowly, tactfully, knowing exactly what to do to drive his partner insane. He runs his nails along Yuuji’s sides, looks him in the eyes, and takes him to the base until there’s no possible space between them.
They fuck like there’s no love left in the world apart from theirs, like they’re stuck in the gaps between heaven and earth, between time and reality. Yuuji starts crying, submitting to euphoria with his entire soul, hiccuping and reaching for his partner’s lovebitten legs.
But his wrist is slapped away, “Don’t you dare touch me, dog.” Megumi’s sneer is subdued, the vicious, cruel dominance settling into a disappointed glare. “I give you my entire heart every day… As much as I can.”
Something painfully solemn is in his eyes as he slowly, constantly shifts himself along Yuuji’s cock, his legs flexing and straining with the controlled movement. “I- I know you do, and I’m so blessed, I love you so much.”
“Don’t talk, you don’t deserve it.” His hands trail up Yuuji’s chest, nails threading through the dark, coarse hair growing there. “You’re everything to me, and you still take me for granted.”
Yuuji wants nothing more than to refute, to assure him that he loves every last part of him. He shapes his life around his partner, he waits on him hand and foot, and he wants to do so for the rest of his life. But, he can’t disobey, his body won’t let him—because Megumi’s hand is around his throat, the feeling of his soft palm making him swoon before he can even put pressure on the area.
“You disobey me, you break my rules…” his hand twitches, grip tightening for just a moment. “I’m yours in every iteration of myself, what can I do to get your soul in my hands, too?”
He whines in response, unable to speak as the pressure on the sides of his neck increases. I worship you, he wants to say, You’ve had me since the day we met.
Megumi’s face fades into a reluctant pleasure as his hips continue to move slowly. Yuuji’s entire body trembles as he’s pushed to the brink of himself. His partner’s pace is so even and perfect—his body is angled to hit both of their most precious, sensitive spots at the same time. They’re so familiar, so desperately entangled in fate and worship and fluid that it’s almost second nature.
Unable to breathe, unable to think for himself, Yuuji finds himself completely bound in that heavenly golden string. He isn’t himself anymore, he’s not a human being but he’s the most mortal he’s ever been. All he can be is a worshipper, all he can be is Megumi’s.
As his lover chokes him, whispers things he can’t hear over the ringing in his ears, he tenses, a passive participant in his body’s movements. He tries to croak out a warning, and he’s only able to get a small “c-” out before Megumi lets him go.
The timing is nothing less than perfect, because as he gasps for dear life, he’s snapped back into his body and feeling the rush of his orgasm. He stares at his deity the entire time his body curves and spasms, uncontrollable in movement and love. He is given the gift of their palms against each other, and the beautiful boy above him slowly dissolves into bliss of his own.
Megumi continues to ride as he’s filled to the brim, until the cum is dripping and painting their intersections a lewd, pure white. Even long after Yuuji is finished, his partner is still slowly taking himself to the edge, his technique becoming careless and unstable.
“I’m close,” he mutters from above, losing control of his expression, fracturing into the lusty, sinful, fallen angel that he is. He chokes out a loud, reluctant moan, and buries his face into his partner's chest, sliding his hands under his back.
Yuuji’s just happy to be hugging him, nevermind the raw, numbing pain of Megumi fucking himself with nothing else but pleasure on his mind. Forgetting his commands, he reaches to hug him back, running his clipped nails along his soft skin and tracing the ridges of his spine.
When he finishes, he’s all hymnal moans and stigmata shivers, tightening around Yuuji’s softening, sensitive cock. Cum wets the space between them, and by the time Megumi stills, he’s nuzzled into his chest hair, breathing loud and unsteady. They’re nothing but skin and fallibility. Two mortals with a love so unending it exists beyond realities.
Still under his spell, Yuuji grumbles, whines, a wordless request for his voice to be returned.
Megumi lets out a hum of a laugh, “You can talk, tiger. Be careful, though—”
“I worship you.” Yuuji’s voice comes before his thoughts can, and he feels his partner huff. “You’re… everything to me.”
Arms tightening around his chest, he squeezes him so tight he almost can't breathe. “Yeah, I love you, too, or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” Yuuji laughs, threading a hand through wild dark hair. “You said a lot more than just whatever with your hand around my throat.”
“No, I didn’t. You made that up.”
Yuuji sits up abruptly, keeping their bodies intertwined as he attacks his neck with obsessive kisses, “Is this gaslighting!?”
He squirms, trying to escape his hold, “I would never…” he hugs his partner’s head, groaning as Yuuji’s pelvis shifts the slightest bit. “Get out of me…”
They disconnect their bodies woefully, a strange, numb pain that makes them both hiss. Megumi is a masterpiece of that twisted kind of exhausted beauty that is so tragic it feels wrong to desire. He is majesty incarnate, he is the one and only thing that has never failed Yuuji in faith.
Though, he thinks back to how they got here, and the bitterness in his lover’s gaze. While he loved him more the meaner he got, there was something dire in his eyes. He looks up, worshipping him once again, and begs the question: “Megumi, are you actually mad at me?”
When he doesn’t respond immediately, Yuuji knows the answer, and he fades. “Well… not- um… Yeah,” he sighs, but nuzzles into faded pink hair. “I am.”
“Wh- why, baby?” His despondency is palpable, and he feels the entire room sink under the weight of his confusion. “What did I do wrong? I don’t know what—”
“Do you remember when you told me that you'd love me in every universe…?”
Of course he does, because he’s said it a million times over the last eight years. But he still remembers the first time clearly as ever: they were sixteen and crazy for each other and even a month into their relationship he knew it was true. “Yeah, I do. ‘Cause I will.”
“Well, you’re a fucking liar—” out of nowhere, he grabs a pillow from beside them and whacks him on the side of the head, sending them both tumbling down onto the sheets.
“What!?” He narrowly wrestles Megumi back into his arms, his sweat slick body almost wriggling away, “How could I lie about that!?”
Still trying to wiggle out of his grasp, he gives up after a surprisingly long fight and glares at Yuuji inches away from his face. It takes a couple minutes of prying, being stared down with those terrifying green eyes, and growled at to get an answer.
Megumi rolls his eyes, “Your Mii rejected me on my Tomodachi Life island. You’re a piece of shit, and I hate you.”
Yuuji balks at him, his face pale as he tries to find a way to navigate this without pissing his boyfriend off even more. “Wh- I- bunny, you know I can’t—”
“I know, but you pissed me off in two realities and you left me at home alone.”
Still, he has no idea whether to laugh, or get on his knees and grovel. “I went to the grocery store—I got you face wash!” Megumi continues pouting, unmoved by his excuses. “Let me get this straight: my Mii broke your Mii’s heart, so you decided to do BDSM about it?”
He takes a moment to consider. He shrugs, “Yeah.”
“Did it help?”
“Yeah, kind of.”