Chapter Text
This isn’t the first tattoo Megumi has given Sukuna, nor is it his first session.
It’s the tenth. He’s come in every two weeks over the past forty to have his tattoos done. He doesn’t want too much detail and the design is simple overall. Creating perfect shapes and curves, dips, and grooves on the body are somewhat difficult but are a little tougher on a body with so much muscle definition. Like, a lot of muscle definition, a distracting amount of muscle definition.
That’s probably why he’s come to Megumi’s shop in the first place. His walls are covered in a broad range of his pieces, from the most heavily intricate line work to simple and flat colors that require painstaking attention, Fushiguro Ink is home to a well-known and sought-after independent tattoo artist. At only twenty-one years old, he has two years booked up and an enormous waiting list of people desperate to get some of his art on their bodies.
Megumi only takes piece proposals that interest him and from those that are capable of affording his work upfront, there’s always been something unique about Sukuna and how he approached him. His message said, he refused to have each tattoo done by different artists, and he’s willing to pay double the rate per hour to have Megumi do all of them.
After showing the email to fellow tattoo artist, cousin, and friend, Maki, she shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s enough to pay my rent for a year and then some. I’d take it.”
So he did.
Megumi clicks a pen absentmindedly while hovering over the iPad at his little check-in countertop. He looks up through his long eyelashes to the glass front door and hits the buzzer to unlock it.
Sukuna is his first client for the day and as usual, the man comes strolling in wearing a leather biker jacket and holding a motorcycle helmet in his right hand. Their eyes meet and the corner of his lip quirks up in the beginnings of a smile just as the door locks shut behind him.
“We’re starting your leg pieces today,” Megumi says, not lifting the cheek he’s propped on his palm.
Sukuna makes a sound of agreement and Megumi straightens up. He leads him into the next room where his tattoo gun is set up beside a leather chair. Megumi plops onto his worn-down stool and reaches for the black latex gloves waiting on the tray beside him.
“You know the drill, get comfortable.”
“You got it.” Sukuna slips off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack by the door.
Megumi picks up a bottle of black ink and sets out half a dozen empty caps while Sukuna undoes his belt. He turns to him a second later and almost sighs. They are doing leg pieces today, he doesn’t have to take his shirt off, but he does take it off, and honestly, Megumi doesn’t mind the view. He can argue he’s taking a look at his own work on Sukuna’s chest but really he’s looking at how defined the lines of his abs are, how tight his waistline is, and how his shape rises into his broad, well-built shoulders that he’s sure can crush him if he ever gives him a hug.
A hug? Fuck.
It started building up since the first time they met. Megumi feels the attraction in his chest, then between his legs the first time Sukuna pulls up his sleeve to show his burly, naked bicep, and explains the rather simple concept of concentric circles to him. Megumi thinks he’s a bit of a smartass and very, very cocky, but he can also see why. When the sinews flex and his voice drops a touch, he sees images of himself getting railed against the counter. The nights after their sessions he lets his mind wander and sometimes has to take out his vibrator. The dirty fantasies at some point switch to smiles and kisses. Eventually, he accepts he has it bad for this client.
Megumi turns his attention to his needle gun and the caps of black ink he finishes preparing. He isn’t going to let his attraction compromise his work. Though it’s easier said than done.
Megumi glances up to see Sukuna dropping his pants and he tries not to gulp. Damn it, he has more composure than this. He’s tattooed almost every reachable part of the human body, he isn’t going to become flustered over this guy’s legs.
Well, maybe it isn’t his legs he’s particularly concerned about, as thick and muscular as they look. As soon as he’s brought his machine closer to Sukuna who seats himself in the chair, he notices his dark grey boxer briefs and their generous bulge.
He’s seen dicks before. Okay. He’s seen naked dicks while doing really low abdomen tattoos and really high thigh pieces. He’s seen plenty of dicks.
But something about this one makes his pulse race, something about this man casually leaning back into the chair and placing both hands behind his head, as calm as a spring day, sends a little quiver of heat through his body.
This dick is huge.
Megumi is a professional though, he can handle it.
“I need to apply the stencil,” he says and Sukuna blinks like it hasn’t occurred to him.
And after how many sessions? Whenever this man comes to get his pieces worked on he always seems half-present and dare he think it, awkward? He notices the strangely timed stretches and the staring. God, this guy stares a lot, and Megumi always struggles with clients that feel the need to bore their eyes into him while he pierces ink into their skin.
Sukuna hops back to his feet and spreads them shoulder-width apart.
“Right there,” Megumi reaches out and touches him with his black-gloved fingertip. “It would be the smoothest here, but I can go a little lower or higher.”
“Higher, by half an inch.”
That’s getting close and part of him feels it’s deliberate. He doesn’t mean to put a bit of mocking in his tone, but he does.
“You got it.”
Does he notice it? Megumi realizes it after he’s said it, the twinge. He glances up and sees his eyes slightly squinted, but his client says nothing else.
Megumi ignores the pang of anxiety and pulls up the first simple stencil he’s prepped, lays it around his thigh, waits a few seconds for it to stick, then peels it away. He does the same with the second band then rolls out of the way so Sukuna can look at it in the wall-sized mirror behind him.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
The rest he does with a rounded felt tip marker, he follows the slopes and rises of his thigh so the band when inked, looks as neat and natural as possible when he’s finished.
“Try not to smudge it, go ahead and lay down.” He pats the outside of his knee. “This side up.”
Megumi thinks he hears a faint “hmph” and he eyes his client who does as he’s asked.
Has he pissed him off?
Megumi takes a calming breath and rolls up the sleeves of his baggy black sweater. He’ll get over it. It’s time to work. The whir of the gun fills the quiet room and he leans over to start outlining the band. Then those eyes settle on him and it starts again, the staring. But at least this time he isn’t going to be inches away from his face. Not that he minds being an inch away from his handsome features.
During those sessions, he got a good look at his short pink lashes, at his killer bone structure, and his lips settled into a line. It’s the first time he’s seen a little break in his overconfident demeanor. His brow sometimes scrunched up, his mouth twitched, his fingers curled into fists atop his stomach. Anyone will wince when getting a face tattoo, but finally seeing some reaction after weeks of stone-faced needle stabbing, he thinks it's kind of cute.
The first hour passes and he’s been working at a steady pace on the outlines, enough so he’s prepared to connect them around the inside of his thigh.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“You okay to flip over?”
“Easily,”
The corner of Megumi’s mouth hikes up in a grimace at the confidence in his tone and the words slip out before he can stop them.
“Do it then.”
He sees Sukuna’s brows perk like he doesn’t expect the little puppy in front of him to have much of a bite, much less any bark. Then he grins this big, snarky grin with noticeable canines and chuckles.
“You got it.”
This time he has a mocking voice and Megumi nips his own bottom lip. The tension in the room is strange and it sends a little heat between his legs. He can tell he isn’t irritated, no that grin is amusement. He’s very entertained for some reason.
Megumi can’t think about it very long because once he rolls around to match Sukuna’s new position he realizes there’s a great big distraction resting a little too close to his workspace. He looks away a little too suddenly and hears a snicker, prompting him to turn back to Sukuna’s smirking face.
“What?”
And Sukuna speaks, without hesitation, and with the slightest husky purr.
“You can look.”
Megumi’s eyes narrow and he grips his needle gun.
“And you can move it if you need to,” Sukuna follows up casually.
Cocky bastard. Cocky fucking bastard. Two can play at this game.
“Thanks,” he snaps.
Megumi feigns he’s using it for balance and wraps his fingers around the meat of Sukuna’s muscular inner thigh, then squeezes.
He’s done it. He doesn’t even need to glance at it to know the dark grey fabric is stretching from the sudden change in blood flow. So he takes the needle to his skin again and catches a faint, barely held back groan. The fabric stretches faster and Megumi’s fingers start sweating within the gloves.
Oh, that’s good information.
He keeps at it, piercing the black ink along the marker strokes, and hears a gulp, the sound of the leather squeezing between clenching fingers. Every noise goes straight to his own groin.
Fuck, I’m wet.
He wipes some of the bleeding ink with a napkin and sees a dark spot appear at the head of his bulge. He’ll give anything to pull down his underwear and take it into his mouth right now.
Focus damn it.
Any chance of it is ruined when Sukuna, cheeks dusted with red and breathing a little heavy.
“At least buy me dinner first.”
Megumi ignores him even though saliva pools in his mouth and a swirl of heat works its way through his tense hips. He takes the gun to his thigh again, hears those words echo back and forth in his head, and realizes he has an opportunity.
He can’t pass it up.
“Shut up until I finish and I might.”
He doesn’t look up but he can hear the grin in his voice.
“Deal.”
Or so he thinks it will be simple enough. He has to finish the tattoo and make plans for dinner, but throughout the rest of it Sukuna keeps making little sounds or wincing or twitching up. This is the first time he’s acted like this during one of their sessions. Has he always been like this but is just holding it in? Maybe that’s why he’s been subtly awkward since the beginning?
As he progresses and the tension piles on, Megumi decides he can’t wait and he isn’t going to let this man walk out of his studio without at least feeling his cock down his throat.
He’ll buy him dinner after.
Once finished, he sets the gun aside, takes off his gloves, and wipes his thigh clean then gives Sukuna a few seconds to look at his half-finished fresh ink in the mirror. He will get the rest of it filled in two weeks. It’s just part of the process, but Megumi isn’t about to wait another two weeks.
Sukuna turns back around, Megumi presses a hand against his abs to make him stand still. His client blinks in curiosity then tenses up when Megumi hooks two fingers in the hem of boxer briefs and pulls them down. His cock slips out and he lets out a sharp gasp. Megumi circles his thumb and pointer around the base and opens wide, taking him in until the hot, swelling tip hits the back of his throat and then some. His lips stretch obscenely along his shaft and he looks directly up at him.
“Fuck,” Sukuna’s expression breaks, his brow knits and his head tilts back as one hand balances on the nearby leather chair and the other instinctively grabs onto his dark hair.
Megumi’s eyelids fall to half and Sukuna gets the message.
Both of his thin, pale-fingered hands brace against Sukuna’s hips and he slides back, leaving a glistening sheen across his thick and aching shaft, and just as he reaches the tip, he hits it with his tongue, dives back down all at once. The fingers in his hair grip tight enough to pull and the pelvis in his grip quivers. Another hissed “fuck,” and he can feel himself soaking into his underwear.
He can barely remember the last time he had a cock stuffed down his throat and he almost forgot how good it feels, how it stretches his lips, how it makes his jaw ache, and how hot it is to see the effect his skilled mouth has on the lucky receiver.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy.”
Megumi’s eyelashes flicker a touch and he lets out a little moan that vibrates into Sukuna’s hips. The fingers in Megumi’s hair readjust to collect the strands falling over his glazing green eyes.
“You wanted it this whole time, didn’t you?”
Oh, fuck, he’s a-
“Couldn’t stop looking at it? Just have to have a taste, huh?” Sukna’s expression takes on a glow, enhanced by the angle of the light and the shadows it casts over his features. “How does it feel? You like having my cock in your throat?”
Megumi whines a little and his thighs press together. It’s so hot down there, it’s starting to throb. He blinks and sees Sukuna carve his teeth across his bottom lip.
“You want me to fuck your throat?”
He’s never nodded with his mouth filled like this, but now that it’s inside him he never wants it to leave. He relishes the growl, the tingles from Sukuna’s fingers scooping up his hair into a firm fist and braces for the onslaught.
It’s even better than he could have imagined. Sukuna pulls his hips back and thrusts forward once like he’s getting a feel for the layout, then sets into a series of hard snaps.
Megumi’s eyes roll up. It’s so good, the way it stabs at the wet, flesh hard enough to make his muscles convulse. Saliva dribbles out around the cock driving into his mouth with loud squelches. Every time the tip passes against the grooves on the roof of his mouth, tickles flutter through him and his brows tighten. When Sukuna yanks him off he sticks out his tongue to swipe at the tip before it’s out of range. His neck bows and he whimpers because he doesn’t want it to end so quickly, but Sukuna has other things in mind.
In the next second, Sukuna yanks him to his feet and into a kiss so forceful his mind goes blank. He’s so swallowed up in his hormones he forgot he wants this too.
Megumi sighs and earns one back that vibrates on the same frequency. He understands the tone, the heat, the taste of his lips and breath. It’s the same for him. He wants this too. They become a tangled mess of tongues and wandering hands, the tension from the pasty forty weeks culminating in bitten lips and hungry, loud sucks.
Megumi doesn’t get a chance to think or panic when one of Sukuna’s hands dips between his thighs because the moment he cups him, Sukuna breaks off from the kiss, skates up to his ear, and asks, “Where do you want it?”
Another needy whine slips from his scratched-out throat and he lightly scrapes his nails against the abs he’s been shamelessly rubbing.
“In my pussy.”
“You got it.”
There’s something carnal, almost feral about the way he lays Megumi back against the leather chair, yanks his jeans and underwear off, grasps the soft underside of both his thighs, then parts them to reveal how slick his puffy lips are. Sukuna lets out another heavy sigh like he’s enthralled by the sight, then buries his face without hesitation. Megumi’s hips raise with the wet muscle tracing up his slit, shivering when the tip grazes his clit.
He tries to buck against his tongue because finally, he’s getting the attention his body is desperate for, but Sukuna pulls his tongue back and chuckles. Megumi watches him wet his lips and he makes a face that screams, “please, fuck, please, just do it."
Another chuckle puffs across Megumi’s dripping entrance and his eyes go wide at the voracious sound Sukuna makes before diving back in.
Holy fuck- His body lights up like a flare. His tongue is huge.
The sounds don’t stop, vibrations from each hum and groan send more tingle through his abdomen. He slicks around Sukuna’s wiggling tongue, shivering whenever it strokes right up against his nerves.
Megumi’s thighs squeeze around his head but it only makes him moan louder, not knowing that Sukuna is so aroused by his taste and the twitching of his walls that he’s leaking precum onto the tiled floor.
Megumi comes out of the building high when Sukuna’s tongue slips away and he looks down to watch teeth sinking into the tender flesh on his inner thigh. His juices leave a glossy sheen across the tattoos on Sukuna’s cheek and Megumi loses it.
“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to kill you.”
Sukuna’s eyes go wide and he grins with all his teeth against Megumi’s skin, but Megumi’s heart jumps in his chest, his fingers clench tight, his pulse skyrockets at a lightly pressed kiss to the same spot his client has been teething. Sukuna follows it with a smaller smile, one that fills his half-lidded eyes with smoldering embers whispering everything between them yet to be said.
“As you wish,”
I’m going to fuck him so hard.
Megumi dreads it slow, he needs to be wrecked, ruined, slammed into until he sees stars and he can tell Sukuna’s a tease. He needs to take over immediately.
“Your thigh.” Megumi sits up. “Your thigh is gonna stretch and the ink will too.”
Sukuna’s expression drops and Megumi pats his chest.
“I’ll be on top.”
Before his grin comes back Megumi kisses him and they quickly switch places. Sukuna lays across the chair and Megumi climbs on top of him, reaching down between his legs, angling and sinking down on his length with a gasp and hips too eager not to take it all at once.
“Fuck!”
He should have gone slower because he’s huge. It hurts, but at the same time rubs the right spot and sends out a wave of fire that has him rising up with his back deeply arched. He goes back down just as slow, letting a short “uhhh,” from how much he stretches around it.
“Big huh?” Sukuna says breathlessly with just a bit of snark.
Megumi slaps a hand over his mouth as he rocks his hips.
“Biggest I’ve ever had,” he spits back with a smirk.
One hand balances atop his chest, his fingers spreading across the lines of one of the healed tattoos, and the second Sukuna’s tongue comes out to swipe the inside of his palm, he starts bouncing. He doesn’t mean to grip the sides of his cheeks but, fuck, he’s barely adjusted to the thick shaft he eagerly impales himself on.
Just as he’s finding the rhythm Megumi gasps. Sukuna sits up, catches him before he arches back, and is on his feet carrying him midair. There is no chance to think or argue because Sukuna slams up into him and sets a merciless pace. And then he's staring, always staring, always fucking staring at him like there's no other place in the world worth looking. Something about it is so intense, looking into his eyes while his body fills to the brim with molten lava while seeing his own work across Sukuna’s forehead and cheeks. He clenches two handfuls of his hair, leaning forward so their foreheads brush with every bounce, their open panting mouths centimeters away.
They don’t know but they share the same thought.
He’s so beautiful.
Then their mouths fall upon each other, Megumi wraps both skinny arms around his head and Sukuna brings him down to the hilt while digging his fingers into those tiny hips. They stay still for a few seconds, warmth rolling through them in waves, deep inside one another, shuddering while their lips sloppily knead.
Megumi trails off to gasp, “keep going,” and Sukuna does.
Each slap vibrates up through Megumi’s thighs and he digs his fingernails into thick shoulder muscles because somehow Sukuna hits it right every time. Harsh, tingly sparks have him clenching down around his pistoning shaft and he clings to Sukuna’s hard body in fear he’ll slip off, or away, or out of his grip somehow when he’s sinking so deep into sweet, numbing euphoria.
When he sinks his teeth into the nearest flesh, his next whine pulsates into salty, sweaty skin carrying notes of musk and cheap cologne. His eyelashes flutter at the sound of a husky sigh coupled with longer strokes and no rest in his pace, his tight, slick hole accepting every inch of him over and over until he’s sure he’s embedded his shape into him.
Sukuna’s tip slips out on a particularly brave thrust and he nearly loses his balance but manages to sit back down on the leather seat behind him. For a second he tries to catch his breath, but Megumi is already lining him back up and dropping down onto him, keeping his grip around his shoulders for balance, but chasing the high with every rut of his greedy hips.
Megumi savors the hissed curses, the return of those large, rough hands to guide him, the look of ecstasy in Sukuna’s eyes as they move on instinct together toward the finish.
Megumi has no idea Sukuna has been on the edge since he yanked his mouth off his cock, that he got close twice while his tongue was shoved deep into his folds, that he’s barely able to hold it in against the force of his agile hips. Every move Megumi makes bursts stars across his vision and he’s hanging on by the thinnest, trembling thread.
Megumi mindlessly moans.
“Sukunaaaa.”
The thread snaps.
Megumi watches his head slowly tilt back, watches the lump in his throat hitch, hears the faint inward rush of air, sees his eyes finally close, and stops that endless staring. Nails dig into his skin, the pain, the final pass of his swollen tip and thick shaft against his overstimulated nerves along with the picture of Sukuna’s unravel shatters the glass at his threshold.
Their foreheads press again. Every inch of Megumi stiffens, all of him clenches, everything blanks out to a misty white, with nothing but stickiness, heat, and a wonderful fullness left. It’s unreasonably wet beneath him but he doesn’t want to move just yet.
Seconds pass with the glow starting to fade and Megumi’s thoughts start to flow again. They are going to slide apart, awkwardly put on their clothes, and sift through the ashen remains of their tattooist-client relationship, but as he sits there he feels Sukuna’s arms wrap tightly around him.
Oh, I was right, Megumi goes limp with his head resting on Sukuna’s shoulder to accommodate the embrace, his hugs are so good.
Strong, solid, comforting, and Megumi wonders if he’ll be lucky enough to feel it again someday.
“After our last session,” Sukuna starts.
He lifts his head, sliding his arms until only his hands cling around the back of his client’s neck.
“Hmm?”
For some reason, he doesn’t want to let go. Maybe it’s because of the hand in the small of his back or the cock still buried inside him.
“I was planning on asking you out for a drink.”
Megumi’s eyes widen slightly.
“So after you get off the clock,” Sukuna rests his lips on the younger man’s sweaty forehead and runs his hands up and down his hips. “I’m going to take you for that drink.”
Megumi’s heart leaps in his chest.
“And then,”
More?
“I’m going to take you home and fuck you again.”
A laugh breaks from Megumi’s mouth and he plants a kiss across those smirking lips.
“Sounds good.”
Sukuna’s response is a pleased little purr and they’re mouth to mouth again, tightly intertwined, savoring the last radiance of their coupling. Freed and set back onto wobbling legs, the cleaning up and putting clothes back on is less awkward than he anticipates.
“At 6,” Megumi tells Sukuna before he strolls out the studio door.
He gets back a nod.
When the door swings shut Megumi goes into the restroom and turns on the faucet. He cups both hands beneath the stream of cool water and splashes his reddened cheeks.
C’mon, get it together.
He can still feel a fever between his thighs, a distinct emptiness, and lingering raw friction. He can feel how tightly Sukuna’s fingers had gripped his hips, the drag of his nails, the slap of their thighs, the way his heavy, hot breath rolled down the back of his neck. Megumi bites his lip and looks at the little clock hanging on the wall.
40 minutes?
He huffs and wipes his hands.
No, I have to get ready for the next client. I can wait.
He walks back into the room, sees the stretched-out table, the streaks of sweat and drips of cum drying on the leather. After opening the window to let the room air out, he cleans thoroughly.
That night, when Megumi locks the door to his studio and turns, he’s overwhelmed with a jittery, fluttery feeling like thousands of settled butterflies are breaking into swarms around him up towards the sky. He tucks his fingers almost bashfully into his jean pockets at the sight of Sukuna standing at the sidewalk’s edge, leaning against a motorcycle with his arms crossing over his chest.
Greet him again? He prepares to but Sukuna lifts a helmet from the seat and holds it out to him. He takes it with both hands and slides it over his head, his fingers struggle with tightening the strap beneath his chin. Sukuna takes over, brushing his hands over his and sending tingles through his skin. After a few seconds, it’s done and Sukuna puts on his own helmet with ease.
Megumi stops trying to think. He has to keep going, if he lets himself think, then he’ll let himself doubt, and he doesn’t want to let it in just yet. He climbs onto the seat after Sukuna and wraps both arms around his middle, then they speed off down the street.
He doesn’t know what kind of bar he expects to be taken to but is content to find it’s a little hole-in-the-wall place with tall circular booths and low lighting.
Privacy, that’s sexy.
They settle into their seat and in the quiet deliberation of their meals Megumi breaks the ice with the first question that comes to mind.
“Did you mean it?”
“Hmm?”
Megumi peeks at him over the edge of his laminated menu.
“That you were planning on asking me out after your last session.”
Sukuna smirks, “I’d been planning it since the first.”
There’s that rush of giddy again, the thudding of his heart in his chest, and he ducks behind his menu much to Sukuna’s amusement.
They order and Megumi passes on the alcoholic beverage because he has work the following morning again. While waiting for their food, Megumi has the chance to learn more about him, his job as a security guard and bouncer, and about his younger brother who he’s helping put through college. The aura around them is comfortable, they drift through conversation easily with the occasional pause and light banter. In every brief silence they both feel the tension return, they recall the morning’s glow, feel their skin flush, and crave the second round.
Their food comes, Sukuna’s is a burger, and Megumi’s is a chicken salad, but just as the waiter walks away, Megumi pouts at his plate. He pushes the pieces of crispy chicken toward the ceramic edge, then glances at Sukuna who’s watching him.
“I didn’t realize the chicken was fried,”
“Not a fan?”
“I like it but my stomach doesn’t. It gets upset pretty easily,” Megumi responds and for some reason keeps going. “I’ve had stomach issues since I was a kid. It’s a pain.”
Sukuna plucks a chunk of chicken from Megumi's plate and pops it into his mouth, then Megumi wonders why he hadn’t thought of that in the first place. He sees an opportunity so he stabs one of the pieces of meat when Sukuna swallows and holds it up with a hand cupping beneath in case it slips off.
Sukuna leans toward his offering, opening his mouth to partake, but Megumi pulls back just enough he misses.
He fell for it.
Megumi smirks and Sukuna frowns. After the second time, he can see Sukuna is getting a little irritated so he pushes it right against his lips and lets him take his bite.
The space between them closes significantly, he barely notices that their thighs are touching, because he’s too busy reaching up to thumb away the crumb that sticks to Sukuna’s bottom lip. Sukuna’s eyes flash wider, the corner of his mouth curls up, and his arm moves as smoothly as a serpent to wrap around Megumi’s shoulders.
Megumi mouths the tips of his fork, snatching a single look at an expectant expression before filling his mouth with a bite of salad. He has an inkling that Sukuna is thinking of grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head back, and kissing him so hard he forgets where he is. He kind of wants him to, but both return to working through their meals. Toward the end, Megumi remembers something he’s been meaning to ask for a while.
“I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you stare so much?” Megumi sees his eyebrow perk and he clicks his fingernails against his half-empty glass of water while looking away. “While I’m tattooing you.”
“Oh? That?” Sukuna’s shoulders relax and he goes slack against the booth. “Because you look sexy.”
Megumi’s cheeks turn red, his gaze darting up to his cool expression and back down to the table. He reflexively pulls the sleeves of his sweater back out and presses a clenched fist covered in the stretchy fabric against his mouth. Another little wave of giddy breaches in his chest.
The check arrives and Megumi puts some cash down before Sukuna has a chance to take out his wallet.
“I said I’d buy you dinner,” he says while sliding out of the booth. He tugs on Sukuna’s sleeve once he’s also standing. “Let’s go. I have one more place I want you to take me.”
Down by the shoreline, Megumi climbs off the back of the motorcycle and pops off the tight helmet. Both leave their headgear on the seat and they approach the edge of the grass where it breaks off into the darkened sand. Sukuna hovers close and when Megumi shivers from a blast of cold ocean air, Sukuna slides off his jacket and wraps it around his shoulders. He receives a grateful smile in response and they stand there, quietly.
Whatever conversations may come to mind, they never seem important enough to bring into existence. Megumi has always wanted to bring someone to the beach at night, it’s peaceful and he can listen to the crash of the waves against the soft sands without worrying about their rhythm being interrupted by human-made noise.
It’s romantic. A grand display without the display and with all of the grandeur. There’s something about the way the moonlight shines across the swaying tide. Silver glints and wavers atop the churning black water, Megumi thinks it’s beautiful, strange, far away, and something he can never touch with his hands but given the chance, he can recreate with just the right amount of ink. He drifts out on the sea, for just a few moments, sinks into the feeling of weightlessness and awe, tastes the salt in the air on his tongue, blinks, and comes back.
Because he isn’t floating out into the abyss, he’s standing next to someone, somewhere by the beach, on the verge of something wonderfully brand new.
Of course, Sukuna has been staring, not at the ocean that holds Megumi’s attention, but at him. Sukuna watches him drift away and come back, and as a result, becomes more sure of this wonderful brand new thing than anything he’s ever been sure of before.
Megumi see’s it, the spark, the glint, the burst of flame in his eyes that makes this moment all too sure and he’s just as ready to sink in all the same. His teeth show when he smiles.
“Weren’t you going to take me home and fuck me again?”
He strikes the flints and earns a half-grin, a hand sliding around his waist, pulling him closer, a pause that almost asks for permission, and a press of warm lips that taste like the fresh air of a chilly night. They open and close in sync, spread more heat between each knead, lean into one another, sway with the current until out of breath, they pause with mouths open but lips pressed, looking into each other’s eyes again.
Their hands find each other, skin grooved but soft and a little cold, smoothing midair beside them until their fingers slot comfortably together. Then Sukuna brings his thin knuckles up to his lips, stays for a moment to let his breath warm his skin, and says softly, sweetly:
“You got it.”
They’re carried the rest of the way home on the wind.
Finally, they settle back onto the king-sized bed in Megumi’s apartment where he watches Sukuna tilt his head to take his lips, then his neck, then everything else. He thrums and hums beneath his hands the way he’s done to him. He shivers and twitches, gasps and writhes, winces and moans from the nips, the licks.
They have all the time in the world, and at least two more tattoo sessions, to get to know each other. For the time being, they disappear back into one another, and into the glimmering sway of that moonlit ocean.