Chapter Text
The room is dark, silent except for the quiet sighs they breathe onto each other’s lips. They had stumbled back to Inumaki’s dorm long ago, shedding their jackets and shoes, but they can’t seem to detach from where Inumaki is pressing Megumi against the door. His taller frame hunched over, one hand cupping Inumaki’s face. Their lips slide against each other, wet and soft, until Inumaki’s mouth gradually goes numb. He’s gasping for air, lungs burning, but he can’t break away. It feels like if he does, he’ll lose his grip on reality.
His hands find their way under Megumi’s shirt. Megumi hisses softly at the cold digits tracing his abdomen. His skin is smooth, muscles firm under Inumaki’s touch. It feels so good. So real.
Megumi is the one to break the kiss. He’s panting, flushed, thumbs gently caressing Inumaki’s face. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and when Megumi pushes Inumaki back a little, it almost feels like a betrayal.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Megumi breathes, voice caught somewhere between want, desire, and restraint. Inumaki sees it in his eyes—the same longing he hopes reflects in his own.
He knows what Megumi means. Last time they crossed that line, it ended their friendship. A knot twists in Inumaki’s stomach at the thought. He takes a step back.
“Umm, we can just... see how things go?” he offers. Megumi nods. It’s awkward. But Inumaki can’t say how badly he wants him, how much he needs him. So they ignore the obvious tent in their pants and settle on the bed, a reasonable gap between them.
Inumaki balances his laptop on his thigh, looking for an anime they can watch. He can’t calm down, so he shields his crotch with a pillow. It’s bad.
“What about that one?” Megumi asks, pointing to a familiar title. They have seen this before when they were still in high school, sprawled on Megumi’s single bed. Inumaki clicks it. The nostalgic opening song plays, and he shuffles to get comfortable—while maintaining distance.
Megumi tires of the space fast. He snatches the laptop, props himself against the headboard, and pulls Inumaki between his legs. He tenses up. Megumi sets the laptop back on Inumaki’s thigh. His back presses flush against Megumi’s chest. He can almost feel his heartbeat—steady and calm compared to his own. He feels other thing too. Like the blush creeping onto his cheeks as he realizes what’s pressing against his back isn’t Megumi’s pants. Megumi rests his chin on Inumaki’s head, fingers dancing down his arm to tangle with his own.
“Uncomfy?” Megumi asks.
“N-no.”
“Then relax.” Megumi presses a kiss atop Inumaki’s head, which only makes him tense more. He hears Megumi’s quiet laugh and thanks the gods the pillow stayed put.
Inumaki tries to focus on the show. Really, he does. But he’s squirming, playing it cool—until Megumi lets go of his fingers and pins him against his chest with one hand across Inumaki’s front and the other on his thigh. His lips brush close to Inumaki’s ear.
“I’m trying to hold back here. Stop rubbing against me.”
“I’m not rubbing against you,” Inumaki protests, but Megumi shifts his hips up. Inumaki keeps moving.
“But you are. Stay still for five minutes while it goes away. Please.” The last word is whispered against his ear, followed by a kiss on the tip. Something inside Inumaki snaps.
“Screw this.” He slams the laptop closed, the sudden silence cutting through the room. He hears Megumi breathe in to speak, but he cuts him off.
“What are we doing?” Inumaki asks, scrambling out of Megumi’s lap.
“I was trying to watch the—”
“This is not why you came over,” Inumaki interrupts.
“Nor is it sex,” Megumi says casually. “I just wanted to be with you. I don’t care what we do.”
“But... that’s, I mean, watching a show isn’t...”—Inumaki’s eyes flick to the front of Megumi’s jeans. Megumi doesn’t even try to hide it—“isn’t what you want to do.”
“Toge, we really don’t have to do anything.”
“You don’t want to?” Inumaki’s voice is heavy with hope. That was a stupid question. He can read Megumi’s body, it’s so clear, yet he needs to hear it. The thought makes his head spin.
“It’s...” Megumi sighs. “Do you even know what you’re on about?”
“Yeah, I mean... I wanna do it with you,” Inumaki mumbles the last part. Megumi reaches out to caress his face.
“I know, baby. But it works a bit different with two guys,” Megumi says, scooting closer. This is so embarrassing.
“We’ve done stuff before...” Inumaki’s face burns.
“Yeah, I know. That’s what you wanna do?” Megumi’s tone shifts—suggestive. The answer is yes. But Inumaki wants more than that. He’s not stupid. He’s done research – if you can call browsing the gay tab on a porn site and scarringhimself for life a research. He understands how two men do it, but as scary as it sounds, he wants to... connect with Megumi. In a way only they can.
“Baby?” Megumi taps his cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I wanna do more than just that.”
“Okay. What more?”
“Y’know.”
“That’s not exactly an answer.”
“I wanna sleep with you. There, happy?”
“Just jerking off each other is technic—”
“No. More. I wanna—ah, please don’t make me say it.” He does everything to avoid Megumi’s eyes. His cheeks are burning, and he’s so hard it hurts. He wants Megumi to do something. Anything.
“Please,” he whispers.
Megumi connects their lips, and it’s unlike any other kiss they’ve shared. It’s messy—too much teeth, too much saliva. His hands find Inumaki’s pants, flicking the fly open without warning. Without hesitation, Megumi dips his fingers under the waistband of Inumaki’s underwear and wraps a hand around his length. There’s barely enough space to move his hand properly; the drag is sloppy, wet with precum.
Inumaki moans unashamedly into Megumi’s mouth, trembling fingers reaching to return the favor. He’s so lost in pleasure that he can’t undo his belt, so he settles for pressing a palm against the bulge in Megumi’s pants, moaning at the unmistakable twitch beneath. Megumi grips him harder, jerking him faster. Inumaki’s close—he needs out of his pants, to get his hands on Megumi, to feel their cocks lined up like that one time.
He breaks the kiss.
“Stop, ah, wait,” Megumi breathes, giving him a final stroke—a brush of his thumb on the tip that makes Inumaki shudder.
“You okay?” Megumi asks. Inumaki doesn’t answer. Instead, he rids himself of his shirt and reaches to do the same with Megumi’s. Megumi lets him.
“Off. The rest, too.” Inumaki tugs at Megumi’s belt loops. Megumi takes a deep breath, undoes his own belt, eyes locked on Inumaki as both of them quickly strip their pants.
“Now?” Megumi asks. Inumaki eyes his cock shamelessly, craving to lick the precum glistening on the tip but ignoring the urge. He crawls on top of Megumi, straddling his thighs and lining their cocks together. He tries to hold both in one hand like Megumi did that day. Megumi’s erection is hot against his own.
He drags his hand up, feeling Megumi’s thighs tense under him. He hears a curse under Megumi’s breath, then a hand covers his, guiding his movements. The sight is borderline filthy, the slide wet with precum oozing from Inumaki’s cock. Fuck. He’d be embarrassed if Megumi wasn’t moaning quietly.
He wants to kiss him. So he does. He melts into it so deeply, unaware he’s rocking his hips forward, Megumi’s free hand gripping his hips hard, bruising, guiding. He almost tips over the edge.
He breaks the kiss, stilling his hand, cock twitching at the loss of friction against Megumi’s. He wants more. So much more.
“What’s wrong?” Megumi breathes against his lips, hands moving up. Inumaki has to use all his remaining strength to still them.
“I don’t want to come like this,” he pants. Megumi kisses him, smirking.
“How do you want to come then?”
On your cock, Inumaki wants to say, but he’s not that bold. He tries to kiss Megumi again, but Megumi pulls back.
“Wha—”
“I asked you a question.” There’s a shit-eating grin on Megumi’s face. Inumaki wishes it’d vanish.
“I want you to fuck me.”
The smile disappears, replaced by eyes darker and more intense. With a quick yank, Inumaki finds himself kneeling aboveMegumi, his leaking cock slapping against Megumi’s chest. Megumi’s eyes watch his face, head tilted back. Inumaki grounds himself by burying his hands into Megumi’s midnight black hair.
“Are you sure about this?” Megumi asks, fingers tracing along Inumaki’s thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps. He jerks forward when a finger dips between his ass cheeks.
Inumaki nods, trying to chase away the weird flutter settling in his stomach.
Megumi’s finger drags over his hole. It’s... weird. Just toying. He pushes the finger against the pucker, not hard enough to open the muscle, but enough to make Inumaki want to burst from shame. Vulnerable under Megumi’s intense gaze, Inumaki is about to lean down for a kiss when Megumi brings that finger to his mouth and sucks on it.
Inumaki’s jaw falls open at the sight. Once satisfied with the spit, Megumi brings the finger back and presses harder, letting the tip slip past the rim. Inumaki tenses.
Megumi pulls a hand to the side of his neck and pulls him down into a searing kiss.
“Relax,” he murmurs between kisses, pushing the finger deeper. It burns—not too much—but the dry drag feels intense. Inumaki squirms. Megumi pulls his finger out.
“I’m assuming you don’t have lube?” Megumi asks. Inumaki’s face flushes red.
He scrambles up, opens the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulls out a bottle. He hands it to Megumi, who doesn’t look pleased.
“I... it’s for me when I...” Megumi watches him stutter, eyebrow cocked.
“Ah, you know what I mean.”
“No, elaborate please.”
“You’re an asshole.” He pauses. “For when I jerk off.”
Inumaki wants to die right then and there.
“Ah, fuck,” Megumi curses, yanking him onto the bed. “Show me.” He pops the bottle open and squirts some gel on Inumaki’s palm.
“Wha—”
“Show me how you do it.” Inumaki isn’t sure what that means, so he reaches to touch Megumi’s cock but is stopped.
“No. I wanna watch you stroke yourself.”
Who says stuff like that? But the way Megumi says it, the way he stares deep into Inumaki’s eyes, Inumaki’s hands move on their own, wrapping around his cock, legs spreading a little to grant the other a view.. The gel is cold; his cock twitches at the sensation. Megumi watches intently. Inumaki wishes Megumi would bend over and kiss him to take the edge off.
He whines. It’s a little humiliating.
“Megumi,” he moans, needing him to do something.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Megumi breathes out. He squeezes lube on a finger, spreads Inumaki’s leg further, and brings the finger back to his hole. He circles the entrance. Inumaki stills his hand.
Megumi’s eyes focus on where he’s caressing, and Inumaki drips with want. This time, when the finger slips inside, there’s barely any discomfort. Megumi pushes it all the way in slowly, then pulls out carefully, setting a steady rhythm. His finger brushes against Inumaki’s walls, making his legs tremble and cock ooze more precum. He stops stroking himself, hand just gripping idle at the base of his cock.
“Hurts?” Megumi asks, eyes locked on his.
Inumaki shakes his head.
“Can I add another?”
Inumaki nods. The second finger goes in with some resistance. Inumaki moves his hand still wrapped around his cock to replace the weird feeling from behind, distracting himself enough to loosen around the digits. He doesn’t miss Megumi’s eyes flicker up.
“Another?” Megumi asks.
Inumaki barely nods before the third finger is added. That’s way too much. He chokes on air, reaching out blindly. Megumi meets him halfway, kissing him through it, moving slow and careful.
Inumaki bites down on Megumi’s bottom lip, making him falter. Then Megumi jabs his finger in a little too rough, fingertips colliding with Inumaki’s walls.
Oh.
His back arches at the sensation. A mewl escapes him—it’s like fire licking through his insides. Megumi stills for a moment, then draws back and slams his finger back in.
Inumaki has to take his hands off his cock so he doesn’t come. Megumi fucks him with his fingers; he’s truly breathless. He barely manages to grip Megumi’s wrists, trying to stop him. He wants to tell him to wait, but words dissolve into incoherent moans.
He tries to squirm away, but Megumi holds his hips down.
It’s too much. He takes it as long as he can, a moaning mess. Then the tingle in his stomach becomes unbearble.
“Stop, please, I’m begging you,” Inumaki sobs. Megumi stills instantly, his hazy eyes clearing the moment their gazes meet.
“Fuck, did I hurt you?” He yanks his fingers out, worry flooding his face as he studies Inumaki. He shakes his head, though the room is spinning.
“I want you,” he manages to say, and relief ripples through Megumi.
“Is that why you’re crying?” Megumi asks softly, wiping away tears Inumaki hadn’t even noticed falling with a clean hand.
Inumaki doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches down, finds the bottle, squirts lube onto his palm, and starts lathering Megumi up.
“Uh, we need a condom,” Megumi interrupts. Fuck.
“I have none,” Inumaki says hoarsely.
“Oh,” Megumi responds, uncertain.
“Can’t we just...?” Inumaki trails off.
“It’s not exactly—” Megumi starts, watching as Inumaki lazily strokes him. “Ah, let... let go for a sec, I can’t think,” Megumi mutters.
Inumaki does the opposite, stroking faster, and Megumi looks close to losing it.
“Please?” Inumaki leans in to kiss him, sensing Megumi’s surrender.
Megumi yanks him closer, pushes Inumaki’s left leg against his chest, then lines himself up. It’s a mix of rippling pain and pure bliss when Megumi finally enters him. Inumaki feels every drag, every vein as Megumi bottoms out and stills.
He lifts Inumaki’s leg onto his shoulder and moves with such natural ease it feels like they’ve done this a thousand times.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Megumi breathes, eyes dragging slowly over Inumaki’s body. “You’re taking me so good.”
Inumaki moans, thrusting his hips upward, desperate for movement. Megumi obliges, fucking him slow and deep while Inumaki grips the sheets for dear life. One of Megumi’s hands grips Inumaki’s thigh, the other wrapped around his cock, stroking in sync with his thrusts.
Inumaki’s close, feeling warmth knot into pleasure deep inside. Megumi’s thrusts hit that spot head-on again and again.Inumaki reaches out, clutching Megumi’s hand digging into his thigh. Their fingers intertwine as Megumi picks up the pace, and Inumaki comes undone.
He spills in long, thick ropes onto his own stomach and Megumi’s hand. His orgasm drags out even as Megumi suddenly pulls out, wrapping his cum-stained hand around his own cock and pumping to completion. He comes on Inumaki’s stomach, squeezing his hand tightly.
It takes a while for both to come down. When they do, Megumi lets go of his hand, kisses Inumaki’s palm, then gets up to fetch tissues for cleanup. They kiss afterward. Lazy, slow, lingering.
“Did it hurt?” Megumi asks later, now freshly showered and tangled under the blankets in the small bed.
Megumi smells of his body wash, Inumaki’s face squished against his chest.
“No. It was great,” Inumaki says, raising his head to press a kiss to Megumi’s lips.
The first rays of sunshine paint the horizon behind them.They’d stayed up all night. Inumaki wonders how Megumi isn’t knocked out after winning a match, going out for drinks, and... well, the rest. He makes a mental note to buy Mark beer later. He’s a real one for not coming back to the dorm tonight.
“You never took it off,” Megumi’s fingers fiddle with the bracelet on Inumaki’s wrist.
“You noticed?”
“Yeah. Made me hold on. As stupid as it sounds.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“It’s in the past now.” Megumi plants a kiss on the top of Inumaki’s head.
Inumaki wants to sleep, but he’s too buzzed. He wants to stay awake and soak in every second of having Megumi. It’s stupid, really.
If he’s honest, they’ve always been each other’s. Megumi was always his. The only thing that changed is that now he can face himself and admit it.
Just a change of perspective.
Not a change of heart.