The rain pattering on the glass doors lulled Megumi into a quiet dream before he realized, phone still in his hand, his head and body tucked under the covers like a cocoon. It hadn't been a particularly long day. Nothing too crazy had happened. The most eventful thing was a sprain on his ankle: he'd gotten distracted as he ran and tripped on a small rock, felt a sting of pain up his calf, shook it off. He hadn't even realized how tired he was until he slipped under the sheets and began to yawn.
He doesn't know how long it's been since he closed his eyes while watching a silly video. There's a knock at his door that makes him shift under the covers, then a louder one that makes him grunt and frown and bury his face into the pillow. It's the thud of his phone hitting the hardwood floor and a louder tap at his door that finally manage to startle him into a sitting position. It takes him a moment to recognize his room, the same room he's had for almost five years at this point, and when he does, he rubs sleep off his eyes, patting the sheets in search of his phone. There's another rap at his door—at least he's sure he wasn't imagining that.
"What?" Megumi groans, rolling over to look for his phone on the floor where it usually is by the time daylight shines through the large windows. Sure enough, there it is, a new crack on the corner of the screen.
Two louder bangs at his door.
"Hang on!" Megumi calls out, blinking at the obnoxiously bright screen. Of course it's past 3 a.m. This sounds like just about the right time for Gojo to show up and come up with a mission they need to go on, a mission that cannot possibly wait until actual, sunny, normal morning. The "mission" might even just be that Gojo woke up wanting to eat some crepes or other disgustingly sweet food and needs to drag Megumi along in his quest to find a sugar bomb of some sort. Three more thuds and Megumi finally rolls out of bed, not bothering to find his slippers or even turn on a lamp, and treads over to the door as the rain continues to fall.
He swings it open, fully expecting to see Gojo's tall figure and bright smile, and he sets his face up in a frown according to that educated guess. What he sees—who he sees—takes him by surprise.
"Itadori?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. It's too dark to properly see his face, but that cute shade of pink in his hair is unmistakable, even when only part of it is revealed through a dim light coming from beyond the corridor's window. "'S everything okay?"
The guttural, raspy laugh that comes sends a chill up Megumi's spine. This is not surprise. It's familiarity.
It's Sukuna's muscular figure that pushes his way into Megumi's bedroom. With a little more light, Megumi can see his red eyes almost glowing, all four of them, and he swallows a sudden lump in his throat. It isn't fear.
"No worries, Fushiguro. I made a quick little deal with the brat, just like last time," Sukuna says and invades Megumi's personal space like he owned it, like he owned him, and the step Megumi takes back pins him to the wall. Sukuna presses a hand against the wallpaper, next to Megumi's head, leaning in so close that Megumi can feel his breath and see two pairs of eyes fixed on his lips. Shameless. "You had a good time playing with him today."
Megumi swallows again, parting his lips after to let out a sigh. Heat starts to creep up his skin, starting in the middle of his chest. Sukuna hasn't even touched him. This shouldn't be happening.
"What do you want?" his voice comes out husky and strained, but he knows he can only blame it on his drowsiness for so long.
Sukuna's answer is a smirk and a palm pressed flat to the center of Megumi's chest. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, as if he were amused by Megumi playing stupid. Megumi knows that it's exactly what he's doing. So he wraps his fingers tightly around Sukuna's wrist and tries to force the words out of his mouth and make his arousal disappear. Leave it to the curse to take that as his cue to step closer, to press their hips flush together and slip a thigh up between Megumi's legs.
"I said just once," Megumi grits out.
"And I said 'We'll see'," Sukuna slips his hand up to wrap around Megumi's throat, thumb and middle finger pressing into his pulse. He looks absurdly pleased when Megumi's eyes squeeze shut and a little sound escapes him, when his skin gets hotter, and redder even in the near darkness.
"That first time was a mistake," Megumi croaks, digging his fingertips into Sukuna's forearm and incoherently grinding down against the warm thigh lodged between his legs.
"So what will you call this one?" Sukuna leans in to speak into his ear, his breath so hot and close that it makes Megumi's skin tingle. He accentuates his question by grabbing the side of Megumi's hip to guide him through a harder motion, moving his thigh up against him to give him more of that tortuously good friction.
Megumi can feel his face light up. He grits his teeth, rutting against Sukuna's muscular thigh and growing harder, embarrassingly wet, embarrassingly fast. He was dead asleep a few minutes ago, he was tired, he was done with the day. And now here he is, choking back his sighs as one of Sukuna's hands snakes under his loose shirt and gropes at his chest, pinches his nipple, nails scraping lightly on the skin stretched over his ribs. Sukuna pushes his fingernails harder into his flesh, rakes them down until he grips Megumi's ass. All the while, Megumi rocks his hips, tries his hardest to swallow down the needy moans and whimpers aching to escape his throat. He sputters instead.
"It's not the wisest thing to trip over the same rock twice, Fushiguro," Sukuna whispers against his neck before he bites it and breaks Megumi's resolve.
"Damn it—Sukuna—"
The curse doesn't waste more time: he pushes past Megumi's underwear to cup his front, rubs at his small dick with his thumb and slips two fingers inside of him, infuriatingly confident and correct in his assumption that Megumi was ready to take them. Megumi winces and hisses at the sting of the stretch, but he can't stop himself from moving against them, clawing at Sukuna's bare chest and aching to get him deeper inside. He has one moment of clarity as Sukuna presses his hard cock to the side of his hip, and he opens his eyes to look sideways at the open door.
"Sukuna," his voice cracks as he moves into the curse's unfairly skilled hand. "Will you-will you at least close the damn door?"
"No," Sukuna grins, all sharp teeth, and when Megumi huffs and tries to step sideways to do it himself, the curse drops to his knees. Megumi barely has time to gasp at the loss of touch before Sukuna pulls his boxer shorts down and presses his mouth to him, lapping at the hard nub with his tongue and making a sound so obscene it makes Megumi blush deeper. Sukuna sucks him almost too hard into his mouth, hungry and desperate in a way Megumi can't comprehend, pushing his two fingers back inside his hole. Sukuna moans and savors him as if Megumi were a fine meal prepared and laid out for him alone: he opens his mouth, sucks, licks, kisses; he's loud, greedy, almost gluttonous. All the while, he moans and hums, brazenly grabs Megumi's ass and buries his face between his thighs, effortlessly guiding Megumi to grind on his tongue.
Megumi sees stars.
His fingers tug at Sukuna's hair and though he tries, once more, to stretch his arm far enough to push the door closed, Sukuna curls his fingers and sucks him harder, effectively snuffing out any semblance of rational thought in his mind.
Sukuna pulls away with a pop and the lower half of his face glistening, looking smug, smirking up at Megumi. As if that weren't enough, Sukuna pulls his fingers out, coated with slick, and makes a show of licking them with an appreciative hum. Megumi chokes on his own breath.
"You taste better than last time," Sukuna says, then points to the door with a tilt of his head. "Would be a shame if that arrogant brat you call a teacher walked in, wouldn't it? How embarrassing for you."
Megumi opens his mouth to speak, but he moans instead when Sukuna pushes two fingers back inside and curls them, rubbing relentlessly at the little spot that makes his legs shake.
"Fuck!" Megumi slaps his own hand over his mouth. Sukuna fucks his fingers in and out of him, hard and impatient as he stands back up. He fingers Megumi so hard, so fast, that he's pushing him harder against the wall with every motion. Megumi tries to hold onto something, twisting his fingers helplessly against said wall, then clawing at Sukuna's shoulder as if he wanted to draw blood. Panting like a dog in heat. Chanting Sukuna's name like it was the only language he knew.
"What would he say?" Sukuna taunts him, digging his fingernails into the side of Megumi's waist. Watching his face twist up in pleasure with so much attention it makes Megumi feel like he's the only thing that exists in the world—or a butterfly pinned to a cutting board. "What if he knew you're letting me of all people, of all things, have my way with you whenever I please?"
"I don't—" Megumi starts to speak but his words dissolve into a whimper.
"Oh, but you do," Sukuna purrs, scissoring his fingers, thrusting so hard that Megumi can see his muscles tense up and relax with every push. "What would he say? Hm? If he saw how eager you are to let me use you," he noses along Megumi's jaw.
Moaning, Megumi grabs Sukuna's arms, feeling heat boil low in his belly and his muscles start to clench up around Sukuna's fingers. The wet sounds don't stop. Sukuna's quiet, mocking hums don't stop. It's all too much. It's even worse than before—worse than the first time Megumi gave in to temptation. He had one taste, and now he fears he will never get enough. Once had been a mistake. Twice… "Sukuna—"
The curse smiles. It's a threatening thing, red as sharp as razor blades, but Megumi can't help melting into it. He pulls Sukuna closer until their mouths crash together and he can taste himself on the curse's tongue, moans into his mouth as if he didn't remember his concerns. Not only the half-open door, but the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of his room. Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe Megumi does want Gojo to know, wants everyone else to know that Sukuna touches him like this, worships his body with lips and fingers and whispers haunting praise into his ears.
As Sukuna pulls off Megumi's shirt with little regard to the way he moves his arms to get it out of the way, Megumi reaches for the front of the sweatpants Sukuna is wearing. He's seen Itadori wear them countless times before, when they walk to a small cafe first thing in the morning, when they sit in the common room to watch movies. Megumi tugs them down Sukuna's hips, past the dips that have made filthy appearances in his dreams on more than one occasion, and he moans as he wraps his fingers around a hard shaft. It's hot, thick, heavy in his palm. Megumi strokes it hard and fast, with little care for how good it might feel for Sukuna: the curse smiles a wicked thing and rocks his hips into the touch regardless. He purrs and pulls at Megumi's hair to lick and bite a possessive line along his throat.
"Turn around," Sukuna demands, after he has sucked a bruise on the side of Megumi's neck.
Megumi nods, almost entranced. He does just as told, hissing when Sukuna presses a hand to his lower stomach and slides his middle finger inside him with a hum, forcing Megumi to angle his hips and lift his ass to grant easy access. Megumi barely has time to sputter a syllable before Sukuna's hard cock pushes inside of him: the curse thrusts his hips forward and pulls Megumi back to meet him halfway. It burns, stings, it fills him up so suddenly that Megumi gets lost in pleasure and relief and doesn't realize how loudly he cries out or how his back arches as a reflex.
Sukuna's hands grip his hips and he starts to fuck him properly, in that fast and selfish way Sukuna likes. It's the same as last time: Sukuna moves him and guides himself inside Megumi chasing after his own pleasure, grabbing at his skin with bruising fingers and humming low and filthy with each thrust. And Megumi moans. His skin tingles and heat rushes through his veins, his muscles clench, his toes curl. He pants and reaches back, clawing at Sukuna's thigh and then at his waist. When he tries to turn to see the curse that's moving inside him, Sukuna presses his face to the wall and cups his tit in his hand. He plays with his nipple, tugs at it, kneads what little fat there is and licks the shell of his ear.
"Still so tight for me, Megumi," Sukuna growls, moving his arm up to wrap around his jaw with a touch light enough to send shivers down Megumi's spine. "No one else is good enough for you now, hm?"
Megumi whimpers. Sukuna is right. They both know it and it drives Megumi crazy.
"I quite like that. Nobody else deserves you." Still pounding into him, skin slapping against skin, Sukuna hums and inhales the scent of Megumi's hair. He kisses the back of his ear, clutches his chest in both hands and bites a mark onto the nape of his neck. "You're perfect."
Megumi can taste the lie on Sukuna's tongue when he yanks his face to the side to kiss him, but what alarms him is that he doesn't care. He feels himself throb at the praise and clench around every thrust. Sukuna is lying, spilling honey in his ears to get him to dance on the palm of his hand, and Megumi only nods and moans and lets himself get fucked deeper against the wall. His orgasm crashes over him the second Sukuna's hand slips between his legs. Megumi feels the warmth of his palm cupping him, a pathetic stroke of his palm against his swollen dick and he comes, trembling, crying out with a rasp and tears stinging his eyes. He lifts his ass, jerks his hips forward and back, chaotically, twisting his arm back to pull at Sukuna's hair.
"Sukuna, Sukuna—" he moans every syllable, torn between jerking away from the thrusts that don't stop and into the hot touch of Sukuna's hand. "Fuck, fuck," he babbles, saliva dripping from the corner of his lips.
But of course Sukuna hasn't had enough.
"You're being too loud, boy," Sukuna growls in his ear. "You're not afraid someone might hear you anymore?"
He barely gives Megumi time to grunt in protest and annoyance as he picks him up, slipping out of him, and carries him over to the bed like he weighed nothing. Sukuna crawls on top of him, spreading his legs and crushing him to the sheets. Megumi moans, his skin tingling where Sukuna licks a line along his neck and bites a bruise over his pulse, digs his nails into the sides of his hips.
After the first time, Megumi felt the finger-shaped bruises along his body every time he showered. He felt the soreness every time he pressed into the bite marks the curse left on his inner thighs and along his collarbone, and though he'd never admit it—especially not to Sukuna—he got off pushing his fingers into the hurt skin every night until the pain was gone. He wants more this time.
Megumi pulls at Sukuna's hair and wriggles under his weight, moving his knees up his sides and nearly giving in when he feels Sukuna's cock sliding over his hole. But he presses his hands to Sukuna's chest as the curse sucks a bruise on his throat and pushes him off with a growl, forces him onto his back, and straddles his hips with his hands still on his chest. The smirk on Sukuna's face is infuriating. It's condescending. They both know Sukuna could flip them back to their previous position, or shove Megumi off of him with a flick of his wrist. He could pick him up and throw him across the yard—he has, he did, that first time they fought, and he didn't even break a sweat. So this is Sukuna letting Megumi have it. It's the curse playing along. Megumi doesn't care. He shifts and holds Sukuna's cock in his hand to guide it back inside himself with a hiss. Sukuna makes a pleased sound, barely audible, places both hands behind his head and offers Megumi a gesture so wicked it can hardly be considered a smile. Outside, the rain falls heavier, a thunder roars in the distance and lightning illuminates the bedroom for a second just as Megumi takes Sukuna down to the base.
Megumi shoots a quick look at the door, still half open. He hesitates for that split second. He's already come. He could roll off of Sukuna and make him leave, and stop putting himself in these risky and stupid situations. But Sukuna reaches up to grip his neck and makes him look down, and Megumi feels need and hunger burning deep inside his very core. He's filled with lust and heat boiling low in his stomach at the sight of the curse lying against his sheets, and so he pushes his hands against his broad, inked chest, and starts moving himself up and down his cock with choked gasps and hisses. Every bounce makes a wet slap echo across the bedroom, almost as loud as his panting and whimpering. He rocks and rolls his hips forward every now and then, aching for more friction on his dick that is quickly and embarrassingly fattening up again. And Sukuna doesn't move. All he does is cup Megumi's little tits, tease his nipples with his thumbs, or squeeze both hands around his waist. Sukuna doesn't guide him or help when Megumi bounces himself on his lap, he merely watches.
"Sukuna—" Megumi grits his teeth, irritated. He was the one who barged into his room in the middle of the night and he was the one who started this, and now he's doing nothing. Megumi squeezes Sukuna's chest hard enough to leave white marks, he slaps the reddened skin once and growls, snarls as he fucks himself harder on his cock.
"More, Megumi," Sukuna sounds so unaffected and cool that Megumi growls again, slamming his hips against Sukuna's once, and then again, moving a hand up to grip the curse's throat. Sukuna laughs, delighted, tightening his hold on Megumi's waist. "Yeah, yeah, that's more like it."
Megumi chokes on a moan. Sukuna's buried deep inside him, stretching him and bumping against his sweet spot once and again, over and over, pushing him closer to the edge with every bounce. He rolls his hips again, baring his teeth.
"You're making a mess," Sukuna pants, and just as Megumi opens his mouth to say something back, he grabs Megumi's hips and slams him down as he moves up. And then he doesn't stop.
Megumi cries out, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing fireworks behind his eyelids as Sukuna moves him down and fucks up into him almost frantically. His thrusts are so hard they throw Megumi off his balance and he falls forward, squeezing Sukuna's throat for purchase. As he fucks him, hard and fast, loud and wet, Sukuna mumbles and grunts praises into Megumi's ear. Saying he feels so good, that he looks beautiful like this, that he adores the way his voice cracks with every moan and every whimper. Sukuna squeezes his waist and then wraps his arms around him like he wanted to crush him. He holds Megumi still and chases after his own release so selfishly Megumi can't help but sob: it's relentless, bordering on painful, frantic, indescribably good.
"Coming, coming, Sukuna, fuck, fuck!" Megumi babbles, clawing at whatever bit of Sukuna's skin he can reach: arms, chest, the side of his neck. He hears Sukuna's filthy groan in his ear and his breath hot against his cheek, his hips jerking in spasms as he empties himself deep inside. Almost instantly, Megumi grinds forward and sobs through his own orgasm, his body clenching around Sukuna's throbbing cock like it wanted to keep the curse buried where he is.
"Fuck, fuck," Megumi chants, hips and thighs and soul trembling with pleasure. He has fucked other men, before and after Sukuna. But he's never seen white like this, felt his skin tingle with fire like this. His muscles tighten up and his dick throbs at the slight friction against Sukuna's stomach. "Sukuna…"
The curse sounds pleased. He chuckles and nuzzles the crook of Megumi's neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Megumi's skin feels hotter wherever Sukuna's hands touch him. His thighs, his chest, the small of his back. For a second, Megumi feels Sukuna's breath and the tip of his nose as warm and pleasant as a lover's caress. He can tell that Sukuna breathes him in. It feels almost normal, almost soothing, but then the pain and sting of a bite pierces through his delusion and his skin.
"What the fuck—" Megumi starts but feels Sukuna suck a bruise over his pulse, another between his collarbones, a third one halfway between the base of his throat and the curve of his shoulder.
Megumi can't even think of prying Sukuna's mouth away from his body. Pleasure rushes through his spent body with every mark Sukuna leaves on his skin. It bubbles up and boils over, and by the time Sukuna leaves another bruise next to his Adam's apple, Megumi brings his hand down between his legs with a hiss and a pathetic, quiet little curse as he feels his dick throb with another orgasm. It's overwhelming. Megumi wriggles and whimpers, squeezing and releasing Sukuna's cock inside his body rhythmically. He sputters words he can't make sense of, mimicking the white noise inside his head. Half of them sound like "Enough," a handful sound like "More," most of them are a plea he barely understands.
Effortlessly, Sukuna flips him over onto his back and crushes him crudely to the bed, moving his legs out of the way and refusing to pull out of him. He actually moves his hips forward with a grunt, pressing Megumi's skinny arms to the pillow under his head.
"The second time is a choice," Sukuna says, stroking the sides of Megumi's branded neck so tenderly it could easily be mistaken for reverence.
Megumi pants, he writhes under Sukuna's weight. Thunder roars outside again and the rain hitting the glass of his ample windows nearly drowns out the sound of Sukuna's voice. On the other side of the room, the wind—or, Megumi thinks with a touch of shame, somebody—has left the door wide open, the dim light of the hallway spilling onto a pool on the floor. Megumi swallows. His heart is pounding inside his chest and echoing in every inch of his body, from his scalp to the bundle of nerves between his legs that Sukuna presses the pad of his thumb to, almost curious.
"Fuck—" Megumi spreads his thighs wider, his back arching off the bed.
"What will the third one be?" Sukuna asks, holding Megumi's jaw and licking a line up his throat.
Megumi swallows his answer.