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Stepping out of the train station, Yuuji is greeted by the radiant sun and a fresh, strong breeze that ruffles through his clothes, messes up his hair. The commotion of other passengers and schedule announcements fade into the background when Yuuji inhales deeply and, for a moment, it’s only him, waves crashing, salt on his tongue—until someone roughly bumps into him.
It breaks the spell of nostalgia and reminds him where he is.
He throws a longing gaze towards the glistening sea stretching out in front of him; he should head to the bus stop, get to where he’s supposed to be—his grandfather’s house—but he doesn’t feel like leaving yet.
Yuuji’s fingers itch for his camera.
He checks his watch, deciding there’s enough time to take some pictures and drops off his luggage at a locker by the station before walking down to the beach, camera in front of his face.
Through the lens he sees: a seagull eating fries, a group of children trying to save their collapsing sandcastle, someone sipping on a colorful drink on their beach lounger, the breeze stealing away a straw hat. Waves, and waves, and waves, splashing around his legs. More seagulls ganging up on a teen with a sandwich, a lone rubber ring floating in the water, people helping each other putting on sunscreen.
Through the lens he sees him.
Pink hair a shade darker than his, pushed out of his face, a big hand cradling his head. He sees a thick band of black ink curl around his wrist and more lines run around his toned arms, disappearing behind his nape and under the front of his tank. A wide nose, a pair of plump lips and markings underneath both eyes—eyes that are a gorgeous deep brown. They are fixed on him. Oh.
“Do you need something?”
The strangers voice is a low rumble, pleasant but imposing, drawing Yuuji’s attention and pushing him into a corner. He lowers his camera and parts his lips to answer, merely stammers unintelligibly.
Yuuji searches for something to use as explanation, something different from: I was watching you through my camera like a creep because you’re so hot. His gaze falls down to the sizable hardback in his other hand; “Anna Karenina” the title says.
“Your…. book,” Yuuji sputters.
The man casts his eyes down, too. Regarding the pages briefly before he’s staring at him once again. “What about it?”
“I had to read it for class.” Yes, that’s good! Confidence slowly returns to him, straightens his shoulders. “Tolstoy,” he reads with squinted eyes, ”He is my favorite Italian author.”
Eyebrows are raised at him.
“Is that so?” hot guy hums and shuts the book, sitting up. Yuuji’s mind goes blank for a second because, now, he can see how bulky and huge the man actually is. Spit gathers in his mouth and he swallows hard. “What did you think about the ending?
“Oh, uhm.” Yuuji feels sweat prickle at his temples. “But you’re not done reading, are you? I wouldn’t want to spoil you.”
“It’s a reread. Don’t worry.”
He smiles at him, but there’s something predatory about it. Yuuji holds back a squirm.
“Well….”
He doesn’t know the book at all. He’s heard about the author before, vaguely recalls, but he doesn’t know anything about him either, not much of a big reader besides manga. He’d rather watch a documentary than struggle with such a brick of a book. “I think it’s tragic,” he starts, “In some way.” That seems like a safe thing to say. “That she… kills her husband?”
The stranger nods, “Interesting,” hints of amusement curling at the corners of his lips. “Are you free? Sit down, boy. Let’s talk some more.”
And they do;
Yuuji gets to speak more bullshit about the book in hopes of impressing the man, stomach twisting and turning when he’s asked if he’s from here—”I definitely would’ve noticed you if you were”, he tells Yuuji—and Yuuji tells him about visiting his grandfather over summer break, that he’s ill and Yuuji wants to help him out, spend some time with him. He lies about being in college on an athletic scholarship, scared that the other will lose interest once he comes to know that Yuuji is an actual kid. Yuuji’s interest in return increases when he learns the man is almost in his mid-forties, unaware until that moment that this is a turnon for him.
It must show, because the man cuts their conversation short with an unreadable expression.
“Want to go somewhere more… private?”
Fingers dip past the hem of his shorts, riding the fabric up higher on his thighs and the breathy sound Yuuji lets out gets swallowed by the other’s mouth, lips back against his, tongue pushing inside. The tips of Yuuji’s ears burn and he feels impossibly hot, skin prickling uncomfortably wherever those fingers brush past—Yuuji wants more of it. His thighs twitch, his own hands trembling where they’re still tangled in pink strands of hair.
Yuuji wraps his legs around the man’s hips, pulls him closer with a needy whine.
A shrill sound blaring startles Yuuji out of the moment, haze of arousal fading, has him pull back from the tongue that’s still chasing his.
His gaze shifts to his backpack on the ground behind them, phone buzzing and screaming.
Oh God. Shit.
That must be his grandfather.
“Don’t you want to pick it up?” Yuuji is asked when he doesn’t move, only checks his watch.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He was supposed to show up at his grandfather’s house almost two hours ago, he must be so worried, having no idea where Yuuji is, whether he arrived safely or something happened. “No. I…” A sinking feeling settles in the pit of Yuuji’s stomach; it’s a mixture of disappointment and annoyance, guilt. How could he lose track of time for so long? “But…” he mumbles, glad about the other taking a step back so Yuuji can slide off the table.
“I…. Uh,” he continues, slipping past the other while patting down his hair with both hands, “I have to go. Sorry. And. Uhm…”
Yuuji hurriedly reaches for his bag, grabs his camera and slings it over his neck. “Thank… you?” He’s already rummaging through his bag in search of his phone, halfway out of the shack. He stops in his tracks and turns around, looking at the guy with a crack of a smile on his lip. “See you?”
Then, he’s clumsily stumbling out of the shack without waiting for a reply.
When he slides open the door to his grandfather’s house with a little too much force, completely out of breath from running, no grumble to keep his strength in check follows. Yuuji toes off his shoes, not bothering to put them there neatly—which he will be scolded for—and leaves his bags there as well.
He can hear a voice, rough and scratchy, unmistakably his grandfather, complaining,
“What do all of you even got a telephone for if you don’t pick up?”
And Yuuji follows it to the kitchen with the hint of a smile showing on his lips, stops in the doorway to watch his grandfather stand next to the kitchen table, palm braced against the tabletop and phone against his ear. His glasses slid down to the tip of his nose and seem to be about to fall off and Yuuji has to swipe a look around the room to find his grandfather’s cane leaning against the kitchen counter furthest away from him.
He shakes his head.
“Do you want me to smoke my lungs into the next stage of cancer?” A pause. “Don’t you give me attitude”, his grandfather huffs, “You are the one always telling me stress isn’t good for my condition. Next time I’ll have you pick him up even if he doesn’t want you to.”
Yuuji’s about to step into the kitchen when his grandfather gives a curt laugh. “Yeah. And keep your telephone off silent, what if it’s an emergency? Yeah, yeah.” Eyes flicker over to him briefly. “No, it’s fine. There’s no need to, he just came in. Yeah. You too, son.”
Son.
The smile fades from Yuuji’s face, stays rooted in place.
It’s obvious who his grandfather is speaking to and he has no idea how to feel about it, nausea hitting him instantly. He worries he’s going to hurl all across the kitchen floor, a shiver rattling through his limbs. His chest feels tight.
“I just got off the phone with your uncle—”
Yuuji swallows thickly at the direct mention of his uncle.
“—After finally reaching him. I only had to call him about fifteen times,” his grandfather sighs, “why are none of you picking up your phones?
“I was about to ask him to look for you. What were you even up to, boy?”
It takes Yuuji a moment to force out an answer, mind still stuck on his uncle when he’s the last person Yuuji wants to think about. He can’t think about him. “Uh. Gramps. I’m. I’m so sorry. I tired to call you back once I saw but your line was busy and—” He shrugs. “—I was taking photos on the beach and forgot about the time. I’m sorry I worried you, I didn’t mean to.”
“I thought you were coming here to help out, not stress me out,” his grandfather nags at him as he slowly sinks into the chair next to him, stretching across the table to grab his cigarettes and ashtray, pulling closer to him.
Yuuji wants to comment on it, to complain too, but he holds back. For now.
“I’m sorry, gramps. I really am.”
Another sigh escapes his grandfather.
“You hungry? There are leftovers from last night in the fridge.” A peace offering, Yuuji assumes. Wasuke puts a cigarette between his lips, “Your uncle brings something over every other night.”
Feeling his stomach clench at the repeated mention of his uncle, Yuuji shuffles over to sit down next to his grandfather.
“You’re not supposed to smoke inside, gramps.” Not at all, actually.
“Shut up, boy, I’m dying. I can do whatever I want.”
Two shopping bags in hand, Yuuji finds himself in front of the train station again. It’s only been a few days since he’s last been here and the briefest thought about it is enough to make a flush crawl into Yuuji’s cheeks, he can almost feel his lips prickle the way they did when they were still all swollen and tender from kissing. His free hand moves to touch them, brushing along them gently.
Yuuji turns to let his gaze roam over the crowded beach; shrieks overlapping chatter, a kid tripping over a sand castle and ruining it, another one getting hit in the face by the squirt of a water pistol. For a moment Yuuji gets distracted by a beach ball’s back and forth. Finding someone in this chaotic mass of people an impossible task.
Good for Yuuji that he’s not trying to!
He came to the other side of town to grocery shop for a completely different reason, actually. Not in hopes of the hot guy he made out with being around too—despite the fact that he forgot to exchange names with him. Or phone numbers. And it would make total sense for Yuuji to try and look for him because he can’t stop thinking about him and the taste of his tongue and his huge hands running up his thighs.
Lifting his sunglasses, Yuuji squints into the crowd one more time and sighs.
It was stupid of him to think he’d be lucky enough to encounter that man again.
He wipes off the sweat running down the slope of his nose; he’s been standing here for a while, in the burning sun. Time to give up, Yuuji guesses, when a blotch of pink hair catches his attention. Oh God. He leans over the boardwalk railing as if it would help him get a better look and his gaze follows the lines of ink that trail down tanned skin. Oh God.
Yuuji rushes down, only slowing his steps when he’s close, doesn’t want to seem too desperate.
“Hey…”
He pushes his damp hair out of his face.
The man looks up from his sun lounger, a smirk that weakens Yuuji's knees.
“Well, hello there.”
He closes his book and Yuuji notices briefly that it’s a different one from last time.
“What brings you here, baby?”
“I…” Yuuji starts, feeling nervous all of a sudden, “I, uh, was… in the area and—I’m Yuuji.”
A brow is lifted at him in question.
“When I got home after, uhm,” he searches for wording that doesn’t set his cheeks aflame, frustrated about how shy he’s behaving. Usually, he isn’t. But, usually someone as attractive isn’t giving him their full attention. Only one person before ever made him feel like this. “We spent time together, I noticed that I never asked for your name, so…”
“Sukuna.”
“Sukuna,” Yuuji repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Sukuna…” he says it another time, just to feel the weight of it on his tongue again.
“So…” the man—Sukuna—hums and sits up to make some room on the lounger, “now that we are more familiar with each other…” He pats the space next to him in invitation.
Yuuji watches him, eyes darting between Sukuna’s hand and the grin on his face, then, his thighs.
They look nice. And strong.
He bites his lip, hesitating, before willing himself to be bold, to take what he wants—so, he falls into Sukuna’s lap, instead. Arms wrap around Yuuji’s waist immediately, pulling him closer, holding him secure. Yuuji smiles at that.
“How old are you really?”
The smile slips from Yuuji’s face.
“What?”
“You’re too baby-faced to be an adult.”
“There are baby-faced adults!”
“You’re too baby-faced to be a baby-faced adult. You’re still a kid, obviously.”
Yuuji frowns, grumbles, “Being a kid didn’t stop you from shoving your tongue down my throat…”
“Because I don’t care. So?”
“I turned sixteen a couple of months ago…”
“Sixteen.” Sukuna raises his brows, “Why are you spending your time making out with men like me? Trying to piss off your dad or something? A little teenage rebellion?”
Yuuji shakes his head.
He can feel irritation simmer inside his chest, slowly bubbling up to his throat like acid reflux—that’s exactly one of the reasons why he lied about his age! Never fully taken serious because he’s “just a kid”. His wish to share burdens always brushed off by his parents. Nothing more than “their sweet boy”, nothing more than a “kid” to his grandfather. “Brat” to his uncle.
“No. You’re just…”
“Just what?”
He dumbly blurts, “My type.”
“Your type?” Sukuna repeats, sounding amused, “What’s that? Men in their forties?”
“No.”
“What then?”
Despite the annoyance, a flush spreads along the nape of his neck to the tips of his ears, because it doesn’t take Yuuji long to think about everything that caught his eye; those broad shoulders and huge arms that could engulf him entirely, the tattoos running down his neck and back, black ink curling around his wrists. Big hands, impressive height—Yuuji likes tall men, big and strong.
Sukuna exudes confidence and nonchalance, as if nothing can truly reach him unless he wants it to. It pulled Yuuji in entirely.
“Hot. You’re hot.”
“Hot men? That’s your type?”
And Yuuji feels some boldness rising to the tip of his tongue again, smirking, “Well. I also really like your fat ass.”
The grin on Sukuna’s face grows wider, showing teeth before a bark of laughter escapes him.
Later, only when his lips feel plump and bitten raw, is Yuuji content enough to let off for a moment, bringing some space between them—as much space as there can be with them tangled on the lounger, Yuuji still in Sukuna’s lap and his arms looped around Sukuna’s neck tightly.
He’s about to lean back in for more, another kiss, but the huff of a chuckle makes him pause, head tilting in question.
“What?”
The smirk on Sukuna’s face is teasing. “You’re not as reserved today,” he rasps and Yuuji would prefer to be able to focus on how Sukuna seems to be a little out of breath as well. Because of him. Instead, blood seeping into his already rosy cheeks distracts him.
Sukuna flusters him so easily.
“Shut up,” Yuuji grumbles, avoiding Sukuna’s gaze.
“Are you only interested in kissing hot guys or would you let one take you out too?”
The question catches Yuuji off guard.
“Huh?” His eyes snap back to him, wide and in disbelief. “You want to go out with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
Now, he’s very nervous.
“Yes, seriously.”
And Yuuji feels the need to get up, to walk around so he can get his head back in order. Thoughts are tumbling over each other, a new one squeezing through before the other is finished. He can’t think properly, needs time for it to fully sink in—Sukuna wants to go on a date with him!
“Oh. Uhm. Sure. Yeah… Yeah, okay.” As Yuuji says it, his chest constricts and a lump of guilt forms, it gets harder to breathe. Is it okay for him to do this? To start going out with someone when—”I have to tell you something, though…” He’s unsure whether he feels guilty towards Sukuna for agreeing to date when he has feelings for someone else or because he’s betraying the person that caught his heart.
His fingers start to play with the hem of his shirt, twisting and pulling it.
“There’s someone I like.”
A part of him is scared that Sukuna won’t like that. That it ruins any chance with him.
“And you’re not dating them, or?” He rubs circles into Yuuji’s hips, slowly but with enough pressure to make him squirm a little. A shudder sitting in the base of his spine. He likes the sensation.
Yuuji shakes his head.
“But you want to date them?”
“I… probabl—” a sigh interrupts him, “it’s complicated…”
His stomach lurches at that.
“Do they like you, though?”
“Uh….” Yuuji’s voice trembles, as he speaks, “I—yeah. I mean, maybe? I’m not entirely sure. But.. I guess? Like I said…. complicated.”
There’s a serious look on Sukuna’s face, a thoughtful hum following.
Is he thinking about taking back his offer? Yuuji worries on his bottom lip, impatient, afraid of his honesty being met with rejection.
Yes, he likes someone. Someone he can never be with. But also, Sukuna is very attractive, so hot, and interesting. Yuuji wouldn’t mind giving it a try, get to know him better.
“I have a proposition for you,” Sukuna says, finally, catching Yuuji off guard for a second time.
Sukuna doesn’t let him react to it, just keeps going.
“You’re curious, aren’t you? You can try things out with me, experiment, get some experience for that person you like and I? I get something out of it as well.”
Yuuji lets it run through his mind.
“You said you’re here for summer vacation, right? A little summer thing, then, hm? How about it?”
Sukuna squeezes his hips gently, but Yuuji thinks it’s demanding too. The grip almost possessive and it makes his heart flutter.
“What do you get out of it?”
“Being with you.”
Blush deepening, Yuuji nods, “Okay.”
The first couple of dates, time is spent with them talking mostly. Getting to know each other while going for walks, sitting in a café for hours, strolling along the beach. Yuuji finds out that Sukuna works as a chef but is currently on a few weeks of vacation—the first one he’s taken in years—and Yuuji gets sheepish when pointing out the coincidence, says that he’s happy it worked out this way.
Sukuna tells him about being a twin and his disdain for his sister in law, while Yuuji gets to talk about his passion for photography.
Yuuji discovers that Sukuna is a heavy smoker, but also that he likes the lingering taste of nicotine on Sukuna’s tongue when he pushes it into Yuuji’s mouth before he drives him home.
Squirming in his seat, Yuuji can barely contain his excitement as his eyes are glued to the huge, dark screen in front of them in both awe and fascination, both hands clutching his bag of popcorn. He shakes it in his enthusiasm. “It’s starting,” he says, kernels spilling. “Oh my god. Oh my god. It’s starting!”
“Careful. You’re getting popcorn everywhere.”
But Yuuji isn’t listening.
Once the screen flashes as the first scene starts, his entire focus is on it as if he has never seen it before, when, instead, Yuuji’s seen the movie about seven or eight times already, can recite some lines by heart. Never on the big screen, though! Missed it back during its original run. His parents didn’t allow him to watch horror movies, were afraid of him getting nightmares among other things—he did anyway, just on his laptop at home.
“Oh. Oh. The beginning is just so good,” he swoons around a mouthful of popcorn and lets himself fall back into the seat. “Did you see that shot just now? There. There! Again!” An almost wistful-sounding sigh escapes him. “Amazing...”
Sukuna’s hand reaches into his popcorn.
“Do you always talk so much during movies?”
Briefly, Yuuji’s gaze flickers away from the screen and over to Sukuna next to him, who has both brows raised at him in question, seemingly amused. Warmth creeps into Yuuji’s face, fortunately hidden in the darkness around them.
“I’m just excited,” he explains, voice almost drowned out by the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors, it echoes from the speakers, and it sucks Yuuji back in, the actor’s steps careful as the crickets chirping grow louder, more stifling. Yuuji can feel the summer heat radiating off the screen despite the air conditioning in the car.
Though the suspense breaks when Yuuji notices Sukuna’s still watching him.
“What?”
Despite getting caught, Sukuna’s gaze lingers. Something in it draws a flustered laugh out of Yuuji, his own eyes shifting back and forth in the car, to the screen and back, unsure where to focus.
“Nothing,” he answers, nodding towards the screen. “Watch your worm movie.”
If the right words are spoken, it takes a second for Yuuji to lock back in. He sits up straighter in his seat, excited.
“That’s not human earthworm. It’s the prequel,” Yuuji starts to explain, “it’s about the scientist who took Dr. Richter under his wing and groomed him into the evil genius we see in the main series. Without him, he would’ve never started experimenting with worms in the first place. He—”
Before the credits are even close to rolling, Yuuji finds himself pressed into the backseats—whimpering into an insistent mouth, shirt tugged up to his chin and Sukuna’s hand shoved into his shorts, wrapped around his dick. His grip is tight, and warm, and enough to make Yuuji feel lightheaded.
Nauseated as well—they shouldn’t be doing this, should they?
For those first few strokes, the glide of Sukuna’s hand is too dry, too slow, it’s torture and Yuuji finds that he likes it; being touched by someone else is very different. It’s so much better. Yuuji catches himself thinking that he wants to do this many more times—with Sukuna—and that thought has him close to freaking out, unsure whether it’s lust or anxiety, or guilt, that’s prickling everywhere underneath his skin.
“W—wait—”
Cut off by a startled gasp, Yuuji scrambles for what to do. How can he make him stop? Give Yuuji’s head time to stop spinning. Trembling fingers curl around Sukuna’s wrist, clutching at it in an attempt to halt his movements. It doesn’t do anything. “Su-Sukuna!” Yuuji tries to curl in on himself, but Sukuna doesn’t let go of him. “Please…” he adds with a pathetic sob and, this time, Sukuna hears him. He stops stroking him, grip loosening.
Only for a moment can he catch his breath until it’s stuck back in his throat when his wide, panicked eyes meet Sukuna’s stare.
An actress on the screen shrieking and screaming at the top of her lungs fills the space between their silence and Yuuji’s rough pants.
“Yuuji. Baby,” Sukuna says, voice soft, looking down at him with a serious expression, “do you want to stop?” Despite his question, Sukuna moves his thumb to press against the tip of his dick, squeezing lightly, rubbing circles.
Oh, God.
Yuuji sucks in a breath, entire body growing tense as he tries to keep his hips from arching into the touch. He shouldn’t ask for more—shouldn’t want more, in the first place—but he really doesn’t want to stop.
“Don’t you want this?”
Turning his face to the side to escape Sukuna’s gaze, Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut.
He does. He does, he does, he does!
It’s like Yuuji’s in a wet dream—hot guy above him, all muscles and tattoos, focused on him and only him, trying to get him off. But Sukuna is also like thirty years his age and he’s his—
“Brat.”
The sharpness of voice has Yuuji’s eyes snap open, immediately locked with Sukuna’s again.
“Don’t hesitate now.”
Yuuji’s mouth parts to answer but, in the end, doesn’t trust his voice, only nods instead. He lets go of Sukuna’s wrist, confused when he immediately pulls it out of his shorts to hold it in front of his face. Oh. Reaching for Sukuna’s hand with both of his, he pulls it closer to his mouth, licks across his palm. With a hum, he dips his tongue between Sukuna’s fingers, runs it along them.
“Good boy.”
Yuuji moans at the praise, lashes fluttering as he continues coating Sukuna’s hand in spit. Only stops when he’s forced to by Sukuna pulling it out of his grasp. He leans in. “You’ll feel good, baby,” he says, pushing back into Yuuji’s shorts and grabbing him, setting a pace way faster than before.
It’s overwhelming.
Moans slip past his lips and Yuuji throws his arms over his face in embarrassment. He can feel heat crawling into his cheeks. “Won’t…” he starts, panting, but another moan interrupts him, “don’t think.. I’ll—I’ll be able to last long.”
He doesn’t try to peek at Sukuna’s expression, too ashamed of his confession and the heat already so taut in his lower stomach, but he can hear Sukuna chuckle.
“Do you have any experience with this, Yuuji?”
Yuuji gives no answer.
“Don’t worry, it’s cute. Let me see your face.”
Shaking his head, Yuuji refuses to move his arms and Sukuna’s thumb rubs over the head of his dick again, spreading drops of pre-cum. Oh, he’s already so close. Then, the hold around his dick tightens, pulling at him faster, rougher and, helplessly, Yuuji’s hips roll into the grasp, chasing after more.
“Shit,” he groans, a sensation he’s already familiar with building in the pit of his stomach. Rising up and up, and Yuuji has to show his face to reach for Sukuna, instead, both hands fisting the fabric covering his shoulders, holding on as he arches against him.
“Can’t—” Yuuji lets out in a hiss, completion about to run through every part of his body, he can feel it tingling, and squeezes his eyes shut before he spills all over Sukuna’s fingers inside his pants with an unabashed moan.
Sukuna pumps him through it until Yuuji lets go of him, gasping and chest heaving, watching him in a daze.
He really wanted to hold on longer than this, not come after a couple of strokes.
How embarrassing.
Yuuji’s hides his face again. “M‘sorry……” he mumbles.
The hand is pulled from his shorts and Yuuji can feel Sukuna shift above him, hears plastic rustling. He peeks through a gap between his fingers, watches Sukuna wipe his hand with tissues.
The color in his cheeks deepens and Sukuna catches him looking.
“Felt good?”, he asks and Yuuji nods his head lightly, shifts his gaze away, roaming over his crumpled shirt, only to get stuck at Sukuna’s crotch. He swallows thickly;
Sukuna’s pants are bulging.
His hands lower from his face and Yuuji sits up, shuffles and squirms so Sukuna is no longer between his legs. “So…” he starts, knees pressing into the cushioned seat as he leans forward, teeth sinking into his lip as he tries not to stare at the outline of Sukuna’s cock. Shaky fingers reach for the button of his pants, pulling the zipper down before leaning closer to Sukuna’s crotch.
Bracing his palms on Sukuna’s thighs, Yuuji looks up at him through his lashes. “I might not be good at it yet, but.. could you, maybe, teach me how I can make you feel good?”
A smirk spreads across Sukuna’s lips.
Later, Sukuna drives Yuuji home, stopping a few houses before his grandfather’s to avoid being seen. Wishing each other a good night turns into them kissing for a while, Sukuna pressing him gently against the car door and Yuuji gladly accepts being caged in—a part of him wishes that Sukuna won’t let him leave.
Sukuna lets him, though.
Relieved to see that his grandfather’s already asleep once he gets inside, Yuuji immediately goes to rinse his mouth and brush his teeth, fingers rubbing his sore throat absently, a soft smile on his lips.
Sleep stuck in his eyes, lids still heavy, Yuuji shuffles out of his room.
He didn’t check the time when he woke up, but the summer heat had already crept into every corner of the house. Not that it cooled down much in the first place, the aged walls did well in trapping heat inside when it’s needed least. After a certain hour in the day, it got unbearable, though—it’s what woke Yuuji up in the first place.
Sweat running down his temples, his nape, and his t-shirt sticking to his skin forced him to get up for a shower.
Yuuji yawns, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.
He rubs at them as he descends down the stairs, hearing his grandfather’s voice coming from below. Has he started talking to himself, now? Yuuji wonders drowsily and barely registers a second person speaking. Only when he’s almost downstairs, he notices, hearing gruff words:
“What are you letting him sleep in for?”
With any trace of sleepiness immediately gone, Yuuji freezes in place. There’s an ache inside his chest, taking away his breath, his heartbeat growing a little quicker.
“He’s on summer vacation, when else is he supposed to sleep in?”
“Past lunch?”
“Boy went out last night, came home late.”
Yuuji can hear his uncle scoff. “I thought the brat is here to be of some use and not to party.” He probably has his arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he always has when he’s unimpressed by something, when his patience is wearing thin. It’s a pose that usually has Yuuji stare for a tad too long, always enhancing how bulky those arms are. A shiver crawls from his shoulders down his arms, his fingers twitch.
“Where is a kid from the city even going out to? It’s the sticks.”
“I think he’s met someone he likes.”
A stretch of silence follows.
“Huh,” his uncle grunts and Yuuji once again feels like he can’t breathe, lips parting to sneak in heaps of air.
His grandfather isn’t a person to laugh or smile a lot, but Yuuji does hear a curt chuckle from him.
“Calm down. He’s reached that age now, he’s growing up.”
“Yeah.”
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor follows, the clinking of mugs before the water faucet is turned on. “Whatever. That list is all the things you need?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll bring everything over tomorrow morning.” His uncle’s voice grows louder. “Dinner too.”
Is he leaving?
Yuuji, still rooted in place at the bottom of the stairs, panics.
“You don’t have to make dinner. Yuuji wants to cook.”
They can’t meet. No. Not like… this.
Yuuji isn’t ready to see him;
having to meet his eyes, having to talk to him and act like everything between them is normal, nothing wrong and twisted lingering between them. As if Yuuji’s feelings haven’t been gnawing at him from the inside, shame and regret over his confession, doubts not leaving him alone.
He hasn’t had a normal conversation with his uncle in a while and it should probably stay that way.
“Fine.”
Backing up the stairs in a hurry, Yuuji fears the old floorboards will give him away, that his uncle will spare a glance up at the noise on his way out. He stumbles over his own feet, tripping at the top of the stairs and stays there, sprawled out across the last few steps.
His uncle walks past the staircase and Yuuji holds his breath like a little child—maybe if he doesn’t move, he won’t be seen.
“And use your damn cane! You have it for a reason, old man.”
“Shut up,” his grandfather shouts from the kitchen.
“You shut the fuck up.”
The front door slams shut, but Yuuji remains the way he is for another moment before he exhales shakily, dropping his head onto the floor in exhaustion.
It takes Yuuji a while to move from his spot, opting to sit down on the steps, instead. Knees drawn close, he rests his forehead on them and breathes—in through the nose, out though the mouth is what Fushiguro taught him years ago when he was about to freak out over an important exam; in the end, he didn’t score too bad on that exam.
He counts his breaths and a certain calmness returns, but irrational fear that his uncle might come back inside the second he gets downstairs roots in place.
Even though he heard his car leave the driveway.
So, Yuuji goes through eight more cycles before he thinks he’s ready to join his grandfather, the shower he planned on taking long forgotten.
“Morning, gramps,” Yuuji murmurs as he shuffles into the kitchen. Traces of his uncle’s cologne linger in the room, sharp scent hitting his nose and making his stomach twist. He pushes the corners of his lips up into a smile that’s hopefully not too unnatural-looking, throws it in his grandfather’s direction at the kitchen table.
His grandfather’s greeting is a snort. “Morning,” he repeats, sharing his head softly, "It’s two in the afternoon, boy.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Chewing on his lip, Yuuji fills the kettle with water and puts it on.
“It’s fine, Yuuji.”
“No, it’s not. You should have woken me up.” His uncle’s disapproval is fresh on his mind. “Did you take your medicine?”
While he listens to his grandfather’s grumbling, Yuuji grabs a small teapot and a tin from a cabinet, scoops leaves into the pot. The kettle turns off.
“Yes, I did.”
“With food?”
“Yeah. Your uncle brought some.”
Yuuji nods, shoulders growing tight with tension while he pours water into the teapot. “Want some tea?” Without waiting for an answer, he gets two mugs.
“Already have some.”
Looking over his shoulder, he sees Wasuke raise his cup at him before taking a sip, the tabletop fan making tufts of his gray hair move in funny angles. Yuuji doesn’t laugh, though. Thinks about his uncle brewing tea in the same spot an hour ago.
“You just missed him. Your uncle, I mean.”
Even when they don’t meet, it’s impossible to escape him.
Yuuji only makes a small noise. “Oh.”
He returns his attention to preparing his tea, fills his mug but forgets to strain the leaves. They pour in as well.
Wasuke continues, “You’ve been here for over a week. Have you seen him yet?”
“Uh. No.”
“But you’ve spoken, at least, haven’t you?”
“No.”
Yuuji stares down into the greenish liquid in his mug, eyes following the puffs of steam rising from it, and keeps his back turned to his grandfather. Because of that, he doesn’t see Wasuke frowning at him.
“Yuuji...” His voice is low, gruff, but concern drips though. “Are you alright?”
Swallowing down a sigh, he faces his grandfather.
“Yeah. I just… I didn’t sleep well because of the heat. That’s all.” But Wasuke knows him too well, sees right through him; Yuuji should’ve known.
“What did that idiot say to you?”
“Huh?”
“Your uncle. What did he do? Did the two of you have a fight?”
Yuuji shakes his head to deny, then pauses.
“Kind of, I guess?”
It’s not entirely untrue—there were a lot of discussions, some turning into full-blown arguments and they did raise their voice towards the other here and there. Yuuji more times than his uncle, mostly out of anxiety, unable to brush off the shame. He still doesn’t know what he was thinking, confessing those twisted, fucked up feelings to him.
No one has to know, his uncle told him.
Yuuji takes a sip of his tea, immediately pulling a face because it’s bitter, and looks for something sweet to stir in, relieved that his grandfather didn’t try it. He wouldn’t hear the end of it for letting it steep for too long.
Watching a generous glob of honey slipping into the tea, Yuuji remarks, “I think, I just… don’t want to see him for a while…”
“I see.”
After taking another sip and deeming his tea saved—somewhat, barely—Yuuji joins his grandfather at the kitchen table.
“I’ll leave it alone, then,” Wasuke says, “But tell me something else, boy—”
“Yeah?”
“—the person you’re seeing… are they an octopus?”
Confused, Yuuji’s about to ask what he means when his grandfather’s eyes pointedly flicker from his face to somewhere below.
“Oh God.”
His cheeks burn and he clasps a hand over his nape, gets up to examine himself in the hallway mirror where he sees it immediately: the mark on the curve of his neck, deep purple and blue. Right where the collar of his tee can’t hide it. “Oh God,” Yuuji mutters.
“Or maybe a bitey dog?” he hears his grandfather continue. The seriousness of his tone only adds to Yuuji’s embarrassment.
“I think my grandchild might be dating a vampire.”
Mortified, Yuuji hides his face in both of his hands and whines. “Gramps, please. Stop.”
The following days, Yuuji spends pretty much all his time with Sukuna, being indulged like a small child as they do whatever he wants to, Sukuna refusing him nothing.
He lets Yuuji try a dozen of different sunglasses out on him, one more ridiculous-looking than the other, in his mission to find one that might suit his father. Lets Yuuji giggle and snort at him when he puts the sixth cap on his head, another corny line printed in the ugliest font imaginable on the front, without a muscle in his face twitching with impatience or annoyance. Bucket hats follow, then some adorable fruit-themed headbands.
Yuuji even gets to immortalize those moments on his phone.
They check out the ice cream parlor he’s been wanting to visit since he passed it the first time and it leads to their first “rough patch”, as Yuuji would call it.
“Didn’t think you’d be a vanilla guy,” Yuuji comments as he licks his melting ice cream.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. But vanilla is just… so boring.”
Sukuna stops in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at him in bewilderment. “It’s bourbon vanilla,” he says as if that should have any meaning to Yuuji. As if that would be what convinces him otherwise.
“And?” Yuuji just asks.
A groan escapes Sukuna. “You know what,” he starts, giving Yuuji’s cone a disgruntled look, “I’m not going to argue with a kid that asked for three scoops of cookies and cream with sprinkles on top.”
He continues their walk.
“And what’s the problem with that?!” Yuuji shouts after him, lips forming into a pout as he follows.
A few times, Sukuna reminds Yuuji to bring his camera along. “You’ll want to take pictures,” is what he says each time before he takes them on hour-long drives to neighboring towns and quaint fishing villages, where they stroll through markets with their fingers intertwined and Yuuji gets to watch Sukuna meticulously browsing the selection of fish. Yuuji captures colonies of seagulls swarming beaches, waves breaking into foam and charming, narrow cobblestone streets. Everything that catches his eyes ends up trapped in his camera, but Sukuna is what he takes the most photographs of. On their way back Sukuna’s hand stays on his thigh for the entire drive.
The pictures of Sukuna are his best ones, Yuuji thinks. Keeps his lens on him during their date at the aquarium, awestruck not by the marine life in the tanks but by the way the water reflects and moves on Sukuna’s face as he observes jellyfish and rays and other animals.
Yuuji, instead, observes Sukuna. Finds himself doing it more often, accompanied by fluttering sensations whirling in his stomach—if he were to throw up, would he vomit butterflies? A thought that is near intoxicating because there is no one to judge him for it. No one to think that something is wrong about this.
He can shamelessly leer at Sukuna, stare at the way his toned arms flex and bulge as he rows them through water, closer to the middle of the pond. Can trail after the lines of ink that spill from his neck down his chest, wondering if he wore such a low-cut tank on purpose. Not that Yuuji minds. He can lust after Sukuna freely, can let himself fall for him.
It’s just the two of them. No one has to know, he hears his uncle say.
His fingers press down the shutter right when Sukuna’s concentration breaks and he looks at Yuuji.
“Save those for the sunset, will you?”
Yuuji lowers his camera and gives him a shaky smile.
They’re still sitting at the water’s edge hours later, a group of people not far from them keeping them from sitting in complete darkness with their lights, laughter and conversation loud, breaking into their comfortable silence.
At least it was comfortable a while ago.
But Yuuji is starting to feel restless, gaze fixated on Sukuna’s hand between his legs, resting on the inside of his thigh. His thumb absently rubbing circles into the soft flesh there and the more he watches, the uneasier Yuuji feels. The stronger the urge to escape his touch grows.
Sukuna squeezes his thigh, pulling him away from his nerves. Distracting him from the building nausea.
“You okay?”
Yuuji nods, fingers drumming in an uncoordinated rhythm against the can in his hands. “Yeah. It’s just—It tastes so disgusting,” he whines.
“Why do you keep drinking it, then?”
He can’t answer that question, looks intently at the can as if it were to reveal it to him. Maybe, Yuuji is still hoping for that pleasant buzz to appear in the back of his head, for it to push away the anxiety that’s clawing through his chest.
Yuuji wants to feel good.
But only the taste of beer remains on his tongue and . The searing touch of Sukuna’s hand. It lingers even when Sukuna removes it to take the can from his grasp, gulping the remaining contents down. Yuuji watches how his throat bobs when he swallows.
“How can anyone drink this?”
Sukuna shrugs. “There are better things to drink, but you get used to the taste.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever like the taste—”
Yuuji lifts his hands and looks at them, they’re trembling, thinks about years ago when his father and his uncle were pushing beer cans together next to him on the couch.
( “Can I have some?”
He remembers the rosy hue on both of their cheeks and how they laughed at his question.
“Wanna be one of the adults, brat?” his uncle said, grabbing his face to tilt it back before putting the rim of the can against his mouth. Yuuji’s first taste of something oh-so very forbidden to him. )
“I didn’t say anything about liking it.”
“—It makes me feel weird,” he speaks around the tightness in his throat, lashes fluttering when Sukuna shifts closer, appears in his field of vision, and brings with him a waft of his uncle’s cologne. It makes his head throb, makes it spin.
“Baby?”
A big hand grasps his nape, kneading gently, and Yuuji shivers. “Don’t…” he whispers, reminded of all the times his uncle did this to comfort him, to calm him whenever he felt agitated or anxious. All the times when he was a little boy and it instantly helped him and the times when he was already older and it made him feel worse, unable to breathe because of the way his heart clenched each time, a flood of shame following after.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t…” Yuuji repeats, voice rising, “Don’t touch me!”
He shrugs his uncle’s hand off him and scrambles away, getting up with a dangerous sway, specks of black swirling in front of his eyes. Too quick. He tries to blink them away. Maybe, Yuuji’s more tipsy than he thought.
“Yuuji—”
“No!” His hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palm. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s not working!”
Taking a few steps back and forth, Yuuji starts to pace in front of his uncle.
“Why do I still feel the same? You said it would be different, but it’s not!” He runs his hand through his hair, pulling at pink strands in distress, messing it up. It doesn’t do much to ground him. “I’m still disgusted with myself! I’m so full of shame! Why isn’t it getting better?”
“Yuuji—Baby. Calm down.”
The tone in his uncle’s voice is soft like it rarely ever is, soothing almost, as he gets up as well, slow, careful, as if he’s trying not to upset him any further. “Don’t shout, okay, baby?”
“I’m not!” Yuuji yells back at him and he feels tears well up in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sick… I’m so sick”, he sobs, vision blurring.
The gathering further away has grown quiet, watching them.
“I don’t want it to be like this, but I want to see you. I want to spend time with you, not someone else. I’m still so in love with you.” He doesn’t want to fall for someone else and that’s the worst part about it.
His shoulders slouch and shake as Yuuji tries to keep himself from crying.
“I want to go home…”
He rubs his arms over his eyes and his uncle comes closer, reaches out for him. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take you.”
His hand barely touches Yuuji’s arm, “Let’s talk, okay?” but Yuuji flinches away.
He shakes his head wildly.
“No. No! I don’t want to see you. I can’t see you! I’ll go by myself. I’ll walk.”
“Yuuji, it’s late. Let me drive you, at least.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“Leave me alone!” he shouts, grabbing his bag and camera before he runs.
“What is it now?” his grandfather asks out of the blue while Yuuji waters the plants in the living room, gives him a look from where he’s sitting on the back porch, cigarette between his lips and his brows furrowed into a frown.
Yuuji doesn’t look up from his task, moving on to the next plant.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You have only been out to do errands.”
“What’s the problem with that?”
“It’s annoying!” Wasuke rasps, waving his cigarette around as he pulls a face, “You were gone for most of the day, every day. Now, you’re always here, hovering over me. Nagging. Fawning. You’re home too much, boy. What is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re moping.”
Yuuji presses his fingers into the soil of another plant to feel for dryness, “I’m not.”
“What about your little vampire?”
“I’m….” he swallows thickly, “not seeing him anymore.”
Wasuke groans. “Obviously,” he says, “Why?”
Putting the watering can down, Yuuji faces his grandfather and shrugs. “School’s staring soon. I’ll go back home in like a week.”
“And?”
“And, what?” Yuuji frowns. “It’s too complicated.”
“Kid. You’re acting as if the town is an eight-hour train ride away. It’s not that bad. Get your license and you’re here even faster.” Yuuji watches as he takes one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “You’re responsible, your parents will let you take their car if you ask.”
“He’s older,” Yuuji blurts, “A lot. He’s a lot older.”
His grandfather releases smoke from his nose. It curls in front of his face. “Who cares?”
With his grandfather’s words sticking to the back of his head, buzzing there like a swarm of annoying little insects, Yuuji grabbed his camera and left, the urge to get away too strong. He felt suffocated in their living room, among all those plants and his grandfather’s questions.
Instead of taking more photos, Yuuji decides to take the bus over to the next town to develop some of them in the high school’s photo lab. Frustration only growing when he overexposes some of the pictures and ends up ruining them. He sighs as he starts one more attempt, letting another picture float in the developer.
Picking it up with a pair of tongues, Yuuji lets the solution drip off and studies the photo paper, observes how the print starts to appear within seconds.
A thick neck decorated with black ink and a strong jawline, strands of pinkish hair falling in front of eyes such a rich brown that they appear crimson in the red light of the darkroom. They stare back at him and Yuuji feels his breath stuck in his throat.
He already liked the negative, but seeing it developed—it’s beautiful.
To escape Sukuna’s gaze he drops the picture into the next tray, one hand coming up to clutch at the shirt covering his chest. He begs the fluttering to stop, for those butterflies to please die. Can barely swallow around them. The seconds between soaking the photograph and having to put it into the next solution feel much longer and Yuuji is unsure whether he can continue or not.
But he develops many more, all photos of Sukuna. A row of him hanging on a cord to dry.
Yuuji looks at them, over and over;
Sukuna at the aquarium. Sukuna with his stupid, boring vanilla ice cream. Sukuna wading through waves. His side profile, brows knitted together and focused on some piece of art in a museum. A sigh slips past Yuuji’s lips. He misses him.
On his way home, Yuuji pulls out his phone and finally acknowledges all the missed calls and unread text messages.
When the door is opened for him, the scent of herbs and freshly cooked rice spills from the apartment and, for a moment, it overwhelms Yuuji, has him blink at Sukuna standing there to greet him, his wide frame wrapped in a baby-blue apron, a little teddy bear in a chef’s uniform embroidered on the chest piece.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Sukuna says and Yuuji’s senses overload, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing him in months, when it’s only been days. Not even a full week. Insides yearning for him. “Come on in.”
Yuuji would be more embarrassed about it, if it wasn’t for the desire to fall into Sukuna’s embrace being so much stronger. All he wants is to sling his arms around Sukuna’s shoulders, run his fingers through the fine hairs at his nape, to play with them, and kiss him.
He wants to kiss him real bad.
Before he can give in to his wish, though, his brain kindly reminds him of the breakdown he had the last time they saw each other. How he yelled at him, every sick and twisted and taboo thought blurted into his face. How he saw his uncle instead of him.
“Thank you….”
Yuuji avoids Sukuna’s gaze as he steps inside, putting his shoes neatly to the side while Sukuna returns to—what Yuuji guesses is—the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable.” Yuuji shuffles after him slowly. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Uhm, yes. Please.”
He cringes at how stiff he sounds, how obviously awkward he is and tries to distract himself checking out Sukuna’s apartment. It turns out unexpected; lots of cute knickknacks sitting on shelves. Furniture in more color than he thought, a cozy atmosphere all around.
Yuuji looks through picture frames filled with people he doesn’t know—notices how Sukuna isn’t present in most of them, but a person with hair stripped of its color is. They are very pretty.
“Here.”
A glass appearing in front of his face startles Yuuji. “Ah—” He takes it, ice cubes clinking together. “Thanks. What is it?”
“Lemonade.”
The hint of a smile appears on his lips and he joins Sukuna who’s already back in the kitchen.
“I’m glad you called,” Sukuna tells him.
“I’m glad you invited me…”
He watches as Sukuna hovers his hand over a pan on the stove before dropping a piece of butter in it. It sizzles loudly and a bunch of herbs join it. Yuuji starts to chew on his lip.
“I’m sorry,” he says and stares at Sukuna’s back, “about last time. I’m—I shouldn’t have asked for the beer and—”
Sukuna interrupts him, “I shouldn't have given it to you. It was irresponsible of me to let you drink, I should’ve taken better care of you. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“No—I—” Yuuji puts the lemonade on the kitchen counter. “About what I said to you, mh. Can you just—I. I. You—uhm, you remind me so mu—”
Wiping both hands on his apron, Sukuna walks over to him, stopping close in front of him and it shuts Yuuji up.
“It’s fine, Yuuji.” He reaches out to take Yuuji’s chin between his fingers. “I’m just glad to see you. I’m happy you’re here. And that you let me cook for you.”
Yuuji can feel himself starting to melt in Sukuna’s grasp.
“Are we okay?” Sukuna asks and Yuuji nods softly, a blush spreading over his cheeks when lips press against his. That’s what Yuuji wanted so much and he lets Sukuna’s tongue trace the inside of his mouth, hums when teeth pull at his bottom lip.
When Sukuna pulls away, Yuuji whispers, “Yeah.”
Even though the plan was for Sukuna to make them both dinner, Yuuji is bored quickly from watching him cook and starts to help him. He chops vegetables and tofu, prepares the base for a miso soup and egg for egg rolls while Sukuna grills them fish and finishes side dishes, plates everything.
They set the table together, deciding to use the coffee table instead of the dining table. It’s easier to huddle close when sitting on the floor.
“You’re a good cook,” Sukuna tells him as they’re about done eating.
Yuuji smiles. “Everyone in my family is pretty decent at cooking, but my uncle taught me most of what I know. We used to cook together a lot.” For once, a memory doesn’t create panic inside him but makes him feel warm, nostalgic. “I enjoy cooking with him very much.”
After a brief pause, he adds. “I also enjoyed cooking with you very much.”
“Me too.” Sukuna’s fingers trail down the small of his back. “I hope we can do it more often.” They lift his shirt and slip underneath, make Yuuji shudder when they touch bare skin, his blood rushing. He gets up to slide into Sukuna’s lap, pressing himself between the table and Sukuna’s chest and wraps his arms around his shoulders. The way he wanted to when he arrived hours ago.
Yuuji leans down to give him a quick peck.
“Can we clean up later?” he asks, rolling his hips gently against Sukuna.
Sukuna’s gaze roams over Yuuji’s face, smirking, hand grabbing the side of his neck.
“Sure.”
Yuuji’s already a complete mess after something as simple as dry humping. Once again embarrassingly close to release from rubbing himself against Sukuna’s stomach, from the feeling of Sukuna’s cock pressing against his ass and a little groping of his chest.
It takes all of his concentration to stop himself from coming. So when Sukuna gets up with him on top of him, picking him up as if he weighs nothing, it startles Yuuji into a scream. He yelps as he scrambles to hold onto him, throwing a questioning look at Sukuna.
“Bedroom,” is the only explanation he gets, but it’s enough.
Makes Yuuji’s stomach lurch with nerves, excited and turned on and a bit scared at the same time. He leans in as Sukuna carries him through the apartment, mouthing against his neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt to place kisses all over, on his shoulder, then bites down.
Sukuna squeezes his ass in return, digging his fingers into the supple flesh and Yuuji grins into his skin.
He licks over the bite, nibbles and sucks on it, moans.
“Careful there, baby boy,” Sukuna hisses, all bark and no bite. By now, Yuuji knows how much he likes being bitten and chewed on. Loves being marked by Yuuji as much as marking him.
Yuuji sinks his teeth into his shoulder again, right next to the mark he just left and sucks a new one into the skin there. Interrupted by Sukuna throwing him onto the bed—Yuuji didn’t even notice them entering the bedroom—and he’s all over him a second later, pulling Yuuji’s tee over his head before Yuuji has the chance to properly sit up.
There are hands everywhere on him, palming his chest, running down his waist and pulling at his hips, tugging them flush against Sukuna’s, who grinds against him, pushes his hard on against his ass. It pulls a moan out of both of them, Yuuji throwing his head back, trying to meet Sukuna’s thrusts. He needs more friction, a little more, his shorts already so tight around his dick, fabric damp and sticking to his thighs, brushing and rubbing against the tip just right with every movement.
But it’s not quite enough to drag him over the edge.
Mewls and breathy gasps are drawn out of him, Sukuna’s teeth scraping along his neck, biting and sucking so hard and hurting him, as it’s his turn to mark Yuuji. He sucks those bruises so deep into his skin, Yuuji’s going to feel them throb with pain for days.
Stretching his head to the side, Yuuji silently begs for more and receives, Sukuna biting his pulse as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Yuuji’s shorts. Yuuji moans, loud and pleased, raises his hips so he can shimmy out of them, Sukuna pulling them off him alongside his underwear.
Sukuna removes his weight from him, eyes roaming over him. They’re hungry, eating him up, and a flash of uneasiness over being this exposed has a need rise in Yuuji to clamp his legs together, to hide away.
Sukuna clicks his tongue. “There’s no need to play coy now, baby,” he says, rough hands on Yuuji’s knees to spread them, forcing his legs open. “A little late to get shy.”
Biting his lip, Yuuji’s limbs tense, tries to resist but Sukuna’s stronger, palms already sliding down the insides of his thighs, mouth following to pepper them with kisses.
His legs tremble as he groans and squirms on the sheets, every other sound stuck in the back of his throat when Sukuna’s focus shifts, when Yuuji can feel puffs of warm breath fanning over the tip of his cock.
Sukuna’s tongue running over the drooling head is too much, has Yuuji burst and spurt into Sukuna’s parted mouth, and his face.
“So sensitive,” Sukuna rasps, “Cute.”
With the haze of pleasure slowly ebbing away, Yuuji watches Sukuna lick his lips, droplets of cum disappearing with a swipe of his tongue. Arousal pools in the pit of his stomach.
Sukuna gets off the bed and wipes his face on the first piece of clothing he can find, reaches down to grab something out of Yuuji’s sight: a bottle, he notices once Sukuna returns to him. He throws it onto the bed before patting Yuuji’s hip impatiently.
“Get on your stomach.”
Still not fully back to his senses, he does as he’s told and rolls over, feels the mattress dip behind him. Sukuna grabs his hips and pulls his ass up until he’s on his knees, presses his upper body back into the sheets with a shove.
Being presented like this has Yuuji’s face burn with shame and he pulls a pillow close so he can hide in it, soft whine muffled when he hears the cap of the bottle popping open. A thigh bullies its way between Yuuji’s legs, nudging them further apart, something cold and slick slipping between his cheeks.
Yuuji gasps, feels Sukuna’s finger teasing his entrance, followed by a choked moan when he presses inside.
“Have you been practicing on your own, baby?”
He nods into the pillow.
“Good boy,” Sukuna praises while pushing his finger deeper. “How many did you take?”
“On—Only two,” Yuuji pants, “Could only take two beforeaah—” Another moan cuts him off because Sukuna decides to add a second finger, the stretch overwhelming him—two of Yuuji’s fingers are as thick as one of Sukuna’s, and so far, Sukuna only ever used one; the couple of nights where Yuuji was trapped on Sukuna’s lap coming to mind, steering wheel digging into his lower back and a finger too dry thrusting into him until tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.
Sukuna curls and twists and flexes both fingers, pushing and rubbing them against his walls to stretch him, starts fucking them in and out in short, mean thrusts. It doesn’t take long for Yuuji to press back into them, wishing to feel them even deeper. Throat dry from the string of moans escaping him. By the time Sukuna pushes a third one in, hitting inside at just the right angle, Yuuji comes for a second time. Shuddering mess, thighs trembling with strain and pleasure.
It’s when Sukuna seems to deem him prepped enough that he pulls his fingers out, leaves his hole slick and fluttering around nothing. Yuuji whimpers in disapproval, doesn’t think three fingers are enough to open him up for the girth of Sukuna’s cock.
A kiss is pressed between his shoulder blades.
Legs giving out, Yuuji flops back onto the mattress with a huff and a pout forming on his lips, turning on his back to face Sukuna who raises his brows at him in question.
“Are you going to fuck me like this?” Yuuji nods at him, before adding, “fully clothed. Why aren’t you naked, too…”
Mouth curling into a grin, Sukuna gets rid of his shirt and Yuuji watches, fingers pulling at his bottom lip restlessly while Sukuna unbuckles his belt agonizingly slow, tugging at Yuuji’s patience. Pants slide down strong thighs, boxers following after and Yuuji digs his nails into his lip, gaze stuck to Sukuna’s cock curving against his stomach, big and heavy and flushed red.
God—Yuuji wants his cock inside him. Needs it.
“Close your mouth before you start drooling, baby. You look like a cock-hungry slut,” Sukuna chuckles and Yuuji’s pout returns.
He’s unable to keep sulking when Sukuna reaches for the bottle of lube and squeezes some of it onto his hand, wrapping it around his length in a tight fist, pumping it in quick strokes to slick it up. Yuuji never thought that watching Sukuna jerk his own dick would be this hot—how very dumb of him—and he gasps when Sukuna groans, low sound vibrating through Yuuji’s entire body.
“H—Hurry up,” he stammers, “that’s enough,” and pulls at Sukuna’s wrist to interrupt his jerking.
“Brat.”
Sukuna huffs and Yuuji finally gets to feel solid heat against his hole.
“You want to do it like this?”
Yuuji nods.
“Want to see me?”
Another nod, breath stuck in Yuuji’s throat when Sukuna pushes the head of his cock in. Oh—The stretch is a lot, even with Sukuna barely inside, the generous coat of lube barely easing the drag against his walls. It stings and an instinct to escape the intrusion makes Yuuji squirm and thrash, thighs knocking into Sukuna’s waist in his attempt to press them shut. He whimpers.
Unbothered, Sukuna forces himself in further, deeper.
“Calm down, baby. Breathe,” Sukuna grunts and Yuuji notices how dizzy he feels, gasps for air greedily. A kiss is pressed against his temple. “Good, just like that.” Sukuna continues to sink inside slowly, steadily.
Yuuji thinks he’s about to cry.
“Be good for me, baby.”
Yuuji nods again. He wants to be good.
But he’s completely at Sukuna’s mercy, feeling vulnerable in a way he only wants to be around a certain person—the only one he trusts enough. Feels safe with. And Yuuji really, really needs to feel safe.
A shaky moan spills from his lips when Sukuna’s hips meet his ass, completely inside, the same sounds coming from Sukuna and, for a moment, there’s no movement, only both of them breathing heavily.
He’s stuffed so full. Knows it’s impossible but he can feel Sukuna all the way up to his throat.
“Look at you,” Sukuna’s voice is strained and Yuuji wonders if it’s difficult for him to hold still, to give him time to adjust, “taking me so well. Sucking me in.”
He whines at the praise.
“Such a good boy, Yuuji.” With those words, Sukuna pulls out. Not fully, but enough for Yuuji to choke up at the feeling, eyes wide. He doesn’t know what to brace for, what to expect, but Sukuna snaps his hips sharply and slams back in, hard.
It rips a sob out of Yuuji and his hands clutch helplessly at Sukuna’s arms, “Uncle—”
That is who he wants.
Sukuna stills again.
“Yuuji….”
There’s a frown on his face and Yuuji grasps at him, pulling him closer.
“Uncle. Uncle,” he cries.
Kissing along the line of his jaw, Sukuna pants, “what are—”
“I want to do this with you. I want my first time to be with you. I need you.”
He stares at him, expression serious, and searches his face.
“Are you sure?”
Yuuji wraps his arms around his neck to keep him trapped. “Yes. Uncle Sukuna, yes. Please—”
Thumbs brush the tears from his cheeks.
“Okay, brat. It’s okay.”
Yuuji sobs again, small and broken, squeezing his eyes shut when Sukuna kisses him. It’s soft and caring and he sniffles into it. “Okay,” he mutters in between kisses.
After a shower Yuuji feels more like himself again, wrapped into fresh sheets against Sukuna’s side. He nuzzles into his chest, sighing as Sukuna runs a hand through his damp hair, dragging his nails gently over his scalp.
If he were to close his eyes, Yuuji would fall asleep instantly.
He can’t, though. Not yet.
“I meant what I said,” Yuuji says, propping himself up on Sukuna’s chest. “About wanting to be with you.”
“I was wondering,” Sukuna mumbles, one arm behind his head and his eyes shut.
Yuuji places a kiss to Sukuna’s collarbone, humming softly. “It was fun, dating Sukuna the stranger and getting to know him and to do everything that I really wanted to do with you. But… it made me want to do it with you even more. I kept thinking about you. And missing you. It was so hard, missing you when you were right next to me the whole time.” He can feel Sukuna’s hand slide down to his back, a comfortable weight. “But at the same time I just couldn’t see you. The thought of bumping into you at home—it made me so anxious. Gramps kept asking me if we fought and I’m such a bad liar—”
Sukuna’s lips part to chime in, but Yuuji keeps going.
“And I’m… I’m still,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “I’m still scared. Like really fucking scared. But I also know that I want to be with you anyway. And—yeah, I know. I know—I’m one-hundred percent sure of it.” The hand on him strokes up and down, absently rubbing circles into his back. Yuuji continues before Sukuna gets the chance to utter a single word. “And, honestly?”
Yuuji doesn’t notice the flash of irritation crossing over Sukuna’s face.
“I prefer when we’re at your apartment. This ist just not, you know, you. It’s kind of weird. And it felt so wrong doing all of this here. I feel so bad for Uraume, they should get their apartment back.” Pausing briefly, and definitely not long enough for Sukuna to finally say something, Yuuji frowns. “What did you do to them?”
It takes Sukuna a moment to answer, making sure there’s actual space for him in Yuuji’s gush of words.
“I told them to give me their keys and not come home.”
He says it with a shrug of his shoulders, acting nonchalant about it, but Yuuji has known this man his whole life—he notices the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a grin.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
With a snort, Yuuji breaks out into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Sukuna asks, Yuuji’s laugh trailing off into a shriek when arms engulf him completely and he’s rolled onto his back, Sukuna hovering above him.
“I’m happy,” Yuuji says and Sukuna dives in for another kiss, smile on both their lips.