Chapter Text
Toji liked to think he understood himself very well at his age. His line of work was one that pared you down to the honed points of what you are - or else killed you, and he hadn’t died. So he knew himself for what he was: indulgent in his vices, and minimal in his virtues, save the blessings of his body and the keenness of his instincts - two things about which modesty would be wasted.
And he was content, ordinarily, in destruction: the grace, the single-mindedness, of violence, of seeing that which opposed him torn asunder. (Not that he used such fancy words to describe it anywhere but in his own head. He wasn’t a Zenin.) There was little restraint in him, spirit or flesh, to be spared for other people; he saved it for sex, when his self-control was exercised for the benefit of his partners.
He could be gentle, for the men and women that hired him; for the friends with benefits he’d collected over the years, so he could get stress relief in any city he had a mission in; for the one-night stands he picked up in bars that saw the bestial power in him and imagined they could tame it, just once, so he was something they could handle. They all asked for this gentleness, with word or deed, and gave it back in turn - soft hands, sweet voices, generous wallets - and he accepted this as the way of things, for he was not a selfish lover.
But Itadori Yuuji was not asking him to be gentle.
Not in word, not in deed: in fact, it was the opposite he was beckoning with every strained breath and arch of his fine supple back, sprawled out breathlessly over Toji’s bed with his T-shirt rucked up to his armpits and his cum-stained shorts being tugged down under Toji’s hands and the ties on that lacy fucking apron coming loose, slipping aside to bare one pebbled nipple that was just begging to be sucked and bit until it bruised-
“Toji, please, please,” gasping, a high sound catching in the back of the boy’s throat when Toji threw his shorts aside and shoved his face in between those salt-sticky thighs to mouth at his cock, “fuck-”
Toji didn’t believe in divine praise and punishment, couldn’t even pretend to give a damn while he was sober - but if he did, he would have called Yuuji a gift far better than he had earned. Maybe, he thought idly, dipping his tongue into the slit of Yuuji’s cock and relishing the cry that echoed off the walls, more like an incubus, visiting.
“Toji-”
Even the taste of him made Toji hunger, for all that it was no different than any blood-warm skin; every drop of salt he swallowed made him more ravenous, made him ache, lower and more demanding than his stomach ever was. He squeezed Yuuji’s thighs harder than he ordinarily meant to, hard enough to bruise, and felt a shiver down his spine when all that earned him was a louder moan, and the curling of toes against his shoulders, legs trembling on either side of his head.
He groaned, and hefted Yuuji up a bit, and shoved his tongue inside him.
The sound that came out of Yuuji’s mouth was probably audible from the street outside. He didn’t know whether he hoped it would be, or hoped it wouldn’t.
In fact, he didn’t know anything at the moment, because the entirety of his capacity for conscious thought had been diverted to the subject of Toji rimming him within an inch of his life.
Toji hummed, satisfied, against him - into him - like he was midway through a feast, and slid one finger in along with his mouth, slick with lube from who-knew-where, not Yuuji, he was barely clinging to awareness (or the bedsheets).
“Please,” he heard himself saying, though at what volume he really couldn’t tell, “please, more, I need-”
A second finger, obliging, as Toji mouthed his balls instead; a third, agonizingly careful, like he was teasing him, and Yuuji full-body shuddered as the touch reached his prostate, ungentle now, lavishing attention where he was most sensitive nearly to the point of pain. He thrashed in the bed, keened loud as anything, and knew he was going to come at least one more time before Toji even put his dick in him-
And who knew how many orgasms he’d wring out of him then?
“So sweet,” Toji murmured into the junction of his thigh, “so good for me,” a wet kiss, a bruise on his inner thigh that Yuuji hoped would stay there for a week or more, “and so needy.” It didn’t sound like he was complaining.
His hands came up to untie the last of the apron-strings, pulling the garment off Yuuji with particular delicacy. “Ya made a mess of it,” Toji informed him, rubbing two fingers together where Yuuji’s dick had leaked moisture into the sheer fabric. “Real wet, aren’t ya?”
How couldn’t I be? thought Yuuji hazily. He tried and failed to say it, hips twitching involuntarily as the loose stretch of his insides, the need to be filled, distracted him. A thin whine came out of his mouth, instead.
Toji’s voice lowered to something gravelly, something dark. “Struttin’ around in this, ya reminded me of my wife,” he growled down at him. “I kept thinking about it when you brought me those little treats. Almost had ya right on the couch, y’ever think of that?”
Yuuji was certainly thinking of it now. It made him grievously horny, even more than before, and whatever he’d meant to say, it wasn’t what managed to pass his lips.
“...-na be.”
Toji leaned in closer, close enough they were chest to chest and his dick was rubbing against the boy’s leg. “Huh?”
Yuuji blinked at him with sex-glazed eyes, licking flush-reddened lips. He repeated himself, slowly.
“...I wanna be.”
Oh. Maybe Toji was discovering something new about himself after all. His dick throbbed as he realized what Yuuji meant.
In the same instant, he was grabbing Yuuji roughly around the waist, uncaring of the fingerprint bruises he might leave behind, and lining himself up with that pink, wet, ready hole. “Fuck, sweetheart. You wanna be my wife?” Just asking that made his dick leak a little.
“Yes!”
All restraint snapped.
Meanwhile:
Sukuna had been half joking when he suggested it. He was still joking, a little, when they got to Megumi’s family apartment, and all the lights were off. “Ohhhh~?” he giggled, manfully, “what’d I tell ya, Gumi? They fuckin’.”
He’d…. also kind of expected Megumi to roll his eyes, at this point, and demand they go somewhere else, like that diner a mile back they’d started going to regularly whenever he wasn’t bulking up for a match. But there was a dusting of pink on his boyfriend’s cheeks, and the tops of his ears, that Sukuna rarely saw - embarrassed, yes, but not only.
And here Sukuna had thought he was the one with the forbidden thoughts. “Hey.” He slung an arm around Megumi’s shoulders, murmured in his ear. “Wanna go in?”
Megumi turned his head sharp in his direction, whiplash-fast; their faces were so close that all Sukuna could really see were his eyes, and wow, his eyes were dark. “Isn’t that kind of nasty,” he breathed, “eavesdropping on them?”
“Mm, who cares,” Sukuna leaned the tiniest bit closer, planting a kiss on his mouth and pulling back just as fast. “It’s hot.”
The hitch in Megumi’s breath told him everything he needed to know.