The club is dimly lit, cast in shadow except for the pulsing LED lights settled into the corners. Throngs of people in everything from leather harnesses to full suits mill around. Yuuji’s eyes catch on a man kneeling on the floor, collar around his neck, sucking someone off, and swallows dryly. He suddenly feels underdressed, even though he’d dithered for over an hour over which pair of jeans made his ass look the best, and had wiped off and reapplied his eyeliner probably six times.
“I’m supposed to meet Nobara soon, so if you want to stay by us, that’s fine,” Megumi says beside him, “but you can also just wander around and watch some of the stage exhibitions. If you want to try and find someone who’ll play with newbies, that’s fine, too.”
“How do I do that?” Yuuji asks. Nobara is hot, and Megumi is hot, but neither of them are really his type , and watching their oddly codependent dynamic for an entire evening doesn’t sound like his idea of a good time.
“There’s a section where Doms without partners for the night hang out. Over there,” Megumi mutters, gesturing to a mostly-empty section of the room where people in various states of undress are milling around. A man, pink-haired and tattooed, leans casually against the wall, tossing a water bottle up and down.
“Who’s the guy with the pink hair?” Yuuji asks.
“That’s Sukuna Ryoumen. He’s one of the Doms who hangs out here pretty regularly, but he’s super rough. Most of the people who scene with him end up safewording out.”
Yuuji doesn’t respond for a minute. He’s too busy staring at the thick black lines inked over the man’s forearms, the way his shirt hugs his pecs, the obvious bulge in the front of his tight black jeans.
“...Yuuji? You good?” Megumi asks.
“That is the hottest man I have ever seen in my life,” Yuuji declares. “I’m going to ride that dick six ways to Sunday.”
The club is too dark for Yuuji to make out any details, but he hears the distinct sound of Megumi facepalming next to him. “Yuuji, I just said that he’s hard to handle. Why don’t you just hang out and watch for tonight? Then we can come back next weekend and you can get some experience with someone a little less...intense, and then after you know the ropes maybe you can try to do a scene with him.”
Yuuji turns to glare at Megumi. “You think I can’t handle him?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he replies. “Sukuna has a reputation.”
The aforementioned Sukuna looks up at that very moment. They lock eyes, and a frisson of heat sears down Yuuji’s stomach. Sukuna crooks an eyebrow.
“I’m sure his reputation is well-deserved,” Yuuji says absentmindedly, and begins trotting across the room.
Sukuna continues leaning casually against the wall, but his eyes don’t leave Yuuji’s until he’s right in front of him. Then, they drop down, dragging over Yuuji’s body and back up again. “Hi there,” he says, voice deep and gravelly and only serving to poke the fire building in Yuuji’s stomach.
“Uh, hi,” Yuuji says. “I’m—Yuuji. Itadori.”
“Sukuna,” says Sukuna. “Why did you come over here?”
If his bluntness is meant to throw Yuuji off, it doesn’t. “You’re really hot,” he says frankly, “and I want you to fuck me.”
Sukuna cracks a smile at the statement. “So you, what, came over here to demand I stick my cock in your ass?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Yuuji replies. He grins up at Sukuna in a way that’s definitely gotten him laid before. They’re almost the same height, but the few inches that Sukuna has on him let him look up through his lashes. The cat-eye he put on earlier is still pristine, and he knows he’s checking off all the boxes on the “emo twunk” list.
Sukuna pushes himself off the wall in a sinuous movement that almost makes Yuuji’s dick twitch. His eyes are half-lidded now, locked onto Yuuji’s. “You think you deserve my cock?”
Yuuji gulps, fighting the urge to take a step back. Fuck, why is that so hot. “I, uh...yes?” he asks, bringing up the intonation at the end.
“Is that an answer or a question?” Sukuna shoots back. His hands shoot out and grab Yuuji by the belt loops, pulling him closer, but not quite close enough to touch. “You done this before?”
Yuuji’s face is suddenly very, very close to Sukuna. His eyes flit over his sharp cheekbones and cut jawline, the hint of tattoos peeking over his collar. He’s half-hard already and has absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. “...I’ve had..some experience...um, my high school girlfriend liked me to choke her….”
One of Sukuna’s hands shifts from his belt loop to wrap firmly around his hip. “So you’ve never subbed? Have you even bottomed?”
A sharp flush rises on Yuuji’s cheeks. “Yes, I’ve bottomed! I haven’t, um, I haven’t subbed before, though.”
“I don’t take newbies on stage.” Despite his direct statement, Sukuna’s hand is holding his hip firmly, one finger tracing little circles along the strip of exposed skin over the waistband of his jeans.
“No. They can’t handle me.”
“I can,” Yuuji says, rolling his hips forward. He only gets the barest hint of friction before Sukuna’s other hand is also on his hips, holding him in place.
He bites his lip as Sukuna digs his nails into skin, tightening his grip. “You’re testing my patience,” Sukuna growls. “Eyeing me up across the room, coming over here demanding for me to fuck you...you wanna be humiliated in front of everybody that badly? Huh? Slut?”
Yuuji can’t help the involuntary twitch of his hips, but Sukuna’s grip is firm enough that he can’t actually get any friction. “Yeah, fuck yeah I do. I saw you from all the way over there and I knew I needed you inside me.”
Sukuna exhales slowly through his teeth. Yuuji watches as he tips his head back, clearly running through calculations in his head. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go prep a bench. You’re going to take a minute and think about this, and if you still want me to fuck you within an inch of your life in five minutes, meet me over there.” Sukuna indicates the performance area with a jerk of his chin.
“Yes, sir,” Yuuji responds cheekily, grinning. Sukuna narrows his eyes and gives his hips one last rough squeeze before releasing him and stalking off. Yuuji is left standing alone in a dark corner of the club, half-hard in his pants and staring hungrily at Sukuna’s ass as he walks away. He does a fist pump before remembering that he’s surrounded by a bunch of people who are probably about to see him get fucked.
He stops by to let Megumi know he’s going on stage with Sukuna. Nobara hoots and slaps him on the back, and Gojo gives him a thumbs-up from his spot on the floor. Yuuji returns the thumbs-up and trots over to the performance area, butterflies bubbling in his stomach.
Sukuna is waiting for him, red eyes giving him another once-over. The bench he’s standing next to boasts an impressive array of metal bars, footrests, and cuffs that Yuuji has no idea how to use. Some hysterical voice in the back of his mind thinks that it looks like some of the equipment at the gym before he learned to use it.
“You’re going to strip and get on the bench,” Sukuna says. “I’ll tie your arms behind your back, then I’ll spank you with the paddle, then I’ll prep you and fuck you. Don’t talk unless I ask you a question or you need to safeword. We use the standard stoplight system for safewords—red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Yuuji says. The lights are brighter here, the shadows more intense, and he can see the way that Sukuna’s forearm tattoos accentuate the lean muscle there. He wants to bite it.
“Strip and get on the bench,” Sukuna says, his voice deepening. Yuuji’s cock twitches in his pants. He’s gonna come humiliatingly fast, he just knows it. Still, he shucks his shirt off, dropping it on the ground before toeing off his shoes and undoing the button on his pants. Once he’s naked, he’s about to clamber onto the bench, but Sukuna stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He tsks. “Fold your clothes,” he orders. “I don’t tolerate messiness.”
The overhead lights are focused enough to shadow the rest of the club, but Yuuji can still feel people beginning to crowd around their stage. He feels eyes on him as he crouches down, naked, and folds his shirt and pants, placing them on a neat square on top of his shoes. He stands back up, feeling exposed but not any less aroused.
Sukuna’s narrowed eyes meet his. Yuuji swallows and places his knees on the most obvious kneepads, leaning forward and bracing himself against the biggest leather slab of the bench. Sukuna’s nimble fingers fold leather straps around the upper part of his calves, securing his legs to the pads. The way he’s positioned is incredibly awkward, chest and shoulders pressed against the bench but his ass in the air and legs spread. His range of vision is restricted to the padded leather in front of him and the floor beneath.
A hand on the small of his back startles him. “I’m going to tie your arms now,” Sukuna says. A finger enters his peripheral vision and taps on a cut-out section of the bench. “Face against the bench, drop through here if you need more air.”
Yuuji presses his face into the leather as his arms are maneuvered from underneath him. He focuses on keeping his breathing steady as they’re moved, his shoulders pulled back, smooth straps sliding up his forearms onto his biceps. The leather is soft but interspersed with clasps of cold metal. He gasps a little bit when it touches his skin. Sukuna’s hands on him still for a moment, pressing the clasp into his skin before hooking it through. His fingers trail over Yuuji’s skin as he does up the rest of the clasps.
When Sukuna’s hands finally leave, Yuuji wiggles a bit, testing the strength of the bonds—and yup, he’s not getting out of there any time soon. Instead of making him feel helpless, though, the bonds ground him, keeping him rooted to the experience.
Sukuna’s hands grip his ass firmly, and Yuuji yelps in surprise.
Sukuna chuckles darkly. “I’m still going to spank you, but this ass is so perfect, I had to get my hands on it.” He gropes it for a minute more, pulling away after a harsh slap.
Yuuji misses the feel of Sukuna’s hands on him immediately. He tries to crane his head back to get a glimpse of what Sukuna’s doing, but the angle the bench forces him into is awkward enough that he can’t see anything. He bites back a frustrated whine.
“None of that,” Sukuna says harshly, and then a sharp heat blooms over his left ass cheek. Yuuji exhales sharply through his nose. Shit , that hurt. Apparently Sukuna didn’t believe in polite warnings.
Another hit, then another, then another. Yuuji pants and whines with every bruising impact. Sukuna keeps up what feels like an endless barrage, occasionally pausing just long enough to lull Yuuji into a false sense of security before hitting him again even harder.
“Color?” Sukuna asks after one particularly vicious strike. That’s fifteen, by his count, and Yuuji has taken every one of them beautifully. He’d been skeptical when the kid approached him, all doe-eyed innocence and awkward honesty, but he’d been attractive enough that Sukuna was willing to entertain at least the idea of fucking him. Then he’d reacted so beautifully to every word Sukuna had thrown his way, obviously a novice but just as obviously gagging for it, and against his better inclinations Sukuna had given in.
“Green,” Yuuji moans. His ass is bright red, a few spots of purple already bleeding through. “Come on, fuck me already—”
Sukuna whacks him again with the paddle, a staccato smack that echoes around the room. “Didn’t I say not to speak unless spoken to?”
Yuuji’s high-pitched whine could fell a lesser man. Sukuna, who is a pillar of composure, feels his dick twitch. “Well?” he demands.
“Hah, yes, I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet, it just, hah, it just feels so good,” Yuuji rambles, even as he strains against the bonds.
The lube is on a small stand to the side of their setup. Sukuna grabs it and pours some over his fingers. He slides a slick finger over Yuuji’s exposed hole, reveling in the way the smaller man shudders. Abruptly, he finds himself wishing that he could see Yuuji’s face, the way his blush spreads over his cheeks and down his neck, how he surely must be biting his lip to keep those delicious sounds from leaking out…
Sukuna distracts himself from that, frankly, disgustingly sentimental line of thought by sliding a finger up to the knuckle in Yuuji’s hole. The punched-out sound Yuuji makes goes straight to his dick. He works the finger in and out, mentally cataloguing how far he can push it before he needs to add more lube. Probably a little while—Yuuji’s much looser than he expected.
He leans over Yuuji’s back, gripping his hips with his unoccupied hand, and slides another finger in with no warning. Yuuji keens. “Did you prep yourself before coming here? Huh?”
Yuuji pants, not responding. His hole clenches around Sukuna’s fingers as he thrusts them in and out.
“Answer me,” Sukuna commands, twisting his fingers.
“I—ah—yes!” Yuuji chokes out. He’s squirming around now, desperate for friction on his cock that’s impossible at this angle.
Sukuna can’t help the grin that slowly spreads across his face. He scissors his fingers a bit, memorizing the way Yuuji writhes underneath him. “I could tell,” he remarks idly. “You’re so loose, aren’t you, slut?”
“I was coming to a sex club, asshole!” Yuuji bites out. “Of course I prepped—hah—”
Sukuna curls his fingers forward, pressing directly on Yuuji’s prostate. “I told you to answer the question, not to backtalk me,” he hisses, smacking Yuuji’s ass harshly with his other hand. “Next time you disrespect me like that, I’m giving you fifty hits and not fucking you at all.”
Yuuji’s hips move in tiny, aborted movements. “Okay, okay—ah—I’m sorry—”
Sukuna slides a third finger in, delighting in the way Yuuji’s thighs are beginning to shake. “Sorry, are you?” he purrs. Yuuji feels delightful around his fingers, all tight, wet heat, and Sukuna realizes abruptly that he’s hard. Usually scenes like this don’t get him going, usually he has to take a minute to jerk himself off just to get hard enough to fuck his sub properly, but Yuuji is hitting all his buttons.
“Yes—haah—please don’t stop!” There’s a steady stream of precum dripping from the tip of Yuuji’s dick to the leather bench. Sukuna wants to swipe his fingers through it and taste it, but he doesn’t make a habit of tasting bodily fluids on the stage. Besides, he kind of wants to see how desperate he can get Yuuji.
He curls his fingers again and Yuuji moans. In this position, he has a glorious view of Yuuji’s back, taut muscles shifting under unmarked skin. It’d look better beaten and bruised, he muses, mind flitting to his collection of canes and floggers. Maybe next time…
Wait, next time? Sukuna’s eyebrow twitches. He’s getting ahead of himself. The brat hasn’t even lasted a whole scene yet.
Slightly annoyed at himself, he pulls his hand back, eliciting another breathy whine from Yuuji. Still, to his credit, he doesn’t try to talk any more, just cants his hips up as far as he can. Sukuna takes a moment to admire the burgeoning bruises on his ass. He pinches one particularly dark spot roughly at the same time as he slides his fingers back in, four this time.
“Fuck…” Yuuji moans.
Sukuna pinches the same spot and twists. “You’re testing my patience.”
Yuuji lets out a garbled moan. “Sorry...just...f-feels good.…”
Sukuna’s rock hard in his pants, but he doesn’t want to fuck Yuuji yet and risk the brat coming too soon and tapping out of the scene. He keeps pinching the marks he left earlier with the paddle, fucking into Yuuji roughly with four thick fingers. The schlicking sound of the lube as he works him open is loud, all he can hear over the faint bass of the club music and the excited whispers that surround him. The crowd has faded away; it’s just him and his fingers and Yuuji’s cute little ass.
Suddenly he can’t take it any more. He pulls his fingers out just long enough to strip his shirt off, ignoring the wolf whistle one of his coworkers—probably Jogo, that asshole—inevitably gives, and undoes the button on his jeans. He thumbs over his cock, stroking himself over his briefs, and is briefly very glad that he chose black for today, because there’s definitely a wet spot where he’s leaked precum himself.
Yuuji, who can’t see what’s happening, kicks up at the bonds tying his legs down and cranes his neck back. Sukuna swats at him. “Stay still. I’m going to fuck you now.”
He pulls his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh, revealing his cock, thick and flushed bright red. He hasn’t been this turned on in what feels like eons. Haphazardly, he grabs a condom from his supply setup, almost dropping it as he tears the wrapper open. He rolls it over his cock, giving himself a firm squeeze at the base, and drizzles some more lube on.
Yuuji shouts at the first press of Sukuna’s dick against the cleft of his ass, but he doesn’t put it in yet. “Color?” he asks, voice husky with arousal.
“Green, green, so green, please put it in me, please fuck me,” Yuuji sobs.
Well, that’s a go-ahead if he ever heard one. Sukuna positions himself and slides in in one hard thrust.
Oh, fuck, he underestimated how good this ass would be. He exhales through his nose, keeping his hips still through sheer force of will. For the first time in years of being a professional Dom, he realizes that he actually needs a minute before moving. The lights feel hotter than normal, heat rising on his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth enveloping his cock. A bead of sweat trickles down the small of his back.
Yuuji rolls his hips beneath him, whining. Sukuna grips his hips roughly and gives a single, shallow thrust. “Don’t whine ,” he snarls.
“I want you to fuck me,” Yuuji breathes.
“You’ll get what I give you and you’ll be fucking thankful for it, greedy brat,” Sukuna replies. “Should I make you wait even longer? Maybe you need some more prep.” He pulls out, rutting himself against Yuuji’s bare skin.
Yuuji groans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be greedy, it’s just—you feel so good inside me—”
Sukuna pushes back into Yuuji and begins fucking him in earnest before he can even finish the sentence. Fuck giving Yuuji what he wants, he tells himself, this is just about what he wants. Yuuji moans again, letting out sharp huffs of breath and little wails that only get louder. The music is completely faded into the background; the only sound Sukuna can hear is the slap of skin against skin and Yuuji’s porn-worthy exclamations. The bench shakes underneath them. Fuck, the brat feels so good on his cock, and he won’t—stop—talking—
“Come on, give it to me, fuck me, fill me up,” Yuuji is rambling, clearly not in complete control of what he’s saying, but spewing a litany of filth nonetheless. Sukuna wishes he could see his face, see that pretty blush, his sweaty bangs falling in his eyes, the eyeliner that’s surely smudged with sweat by now. Saying yes to a scene with this kid was the best decision he’s made in months.
He shifts his stance, spreading his feet as much as he can with his pants still around his thighs, and adjusts his angle. Yuuji wails as Sukuna hits his prostate, teasingly shifting so he only actually makes contact every few thrusts. “Fuuuck, fuck me—Sukuna!”
Sukuna gasps when Yuuji says his name, digging his nails into Yuuji’s skin. He’s not sure why it sounds so much better when Yuuji says it than when any of the other people he’s fucked say it, but the sound of it has him inching steadily closer to orgasm.
Yuuji must hear his gasp, because he begins fucking himself back on Sukuna’s cock as best as he can. He tilts his head back again, and this time the angle must be just right, because Sukuna’s gaze locks onto a single golden yellow eye gleaming up at him. The eye contact is just as intense as it was when Yuuji first approached him from across the club, and he can feel himself getting impossibly harder.
Sukuna catches a glimpse of a smirk playing on Yuuji’s face. Fucking brat. So that’s how he wants to play it, huh? He ups his pace, fucking Yuuji even harder.
Yuuji doesn’t even blink, despite being literally slammed into the bench over and over again. “Yes—fuck— Sukuna , you’re fucking me so well, filling me so good, you feel so good inside me—hah, Sukuna, more, please—”
His dick throbs, and he breaks eye contact, biting his lip and staring at the ceiling as he keeps up his bruising pace, and tries to think loud enough to drown out Yuuji’s lewd moans. Yeah, think of the plain gray of the ceiling, think of that weird stain in the corner above the other stage. Unsexy thoughts. Don’t think about the cute twink fucking himself to death on your cock, c’mon Sukuna, all you’ve done is spank him a bit and fuck him, you can’t come yet—you have a reputation—
Sukuna looks back down, which is probably a mistake. Yuuji’s clearly been waiting for him to make eye contact again, because he grinds back, hard, and moans his name again.
Sukuna comes so hard he whites out. He’s vaguely aware of making some embarrassingly drawn-out and high-pitched noise as his hips stutter into Yuuji’s heat, but most of his focus is on clinging to the warm body underneath him, the way it doesn’t stop moving around him.
After what feels like an eternity but was probably only a couple seconds, Sukuna slumps forward, pressing his forehead between Yuuji’s shoulder blades. He’s breathing harshly, taking big gulps of air that jostle his entire torso. Sweat drips down the sides of his face and his torso. Yuuji’s hips are still clutched roughly in his hands—there are almost certainly handprint-shaped bruises there, in addition to the ones on his ass from earlier.
Yuuji wiggles underneath him. ... Shit , Sukuna thinks. He’s never come before his partner, not on stage, not in private, not even the first time he fucked someone. Abruptly, his cheeks warm. He didn’t think he could even get any redder, but it seems his body is always looking for more ways to fuck him over.
...He’s not actually sure how he can salvage this scene. All of a sudden he’s acutely aware of the crowd surrounding the stage, of the eyes on him still pressed flush to Yuuji’s back. Yuuji, the newbie, who’s still hard and leaking even with the cum of the club’s most seasoned Dom in his ass.
Yuuji wiggles again. “Hey,” he whispers. “Can you unstrap my legs?”
Sukuna lifts himself up a bit. “Are you safewording?”
The brat actually rolls his eyes at him. “No, you jerk, lemme up. I wanna ride you.”
Sukuna blinks. “Huh?”
Yuuji rolls his hips back and Sukuna, still inside him, stifles a moan. “I want to ride you. Please?”
He pries his hands off of Yuuji’s waist and undoes one clasp, then the other. He takes a step back as Yuuji shakes out his legs one at a time.
Yuuji lifts himself up easily, arms still tied in place behind his back. On his knees like this, he’s beautiful, the stark black of the leather accentuating the smooth curves of his arms and back. His chest is forced forward, displaying a firmly-muscled chest and a pink happy trail that leads down to his jutting cock. He grins widely at Sukuna, who’s shoved his pants off the rest of the way, thrown out the used condom, and migrated halfway around the bench. “Lay down, baby,” he says, and winks. Fucking winks like he thinks he’s hot shit, which, well, he just made Sukuna come faster than some dumbass kid on prom night, so maybe it’s at least a little bit deserved. Nevertheless, Sukuna narrows his eyes and growls at him.
“Oh, and by the way, I’m clean, so you don’t have to put on another condom if you don’t want to,” Yuuji remarks casually. Sukuna’s dick gives an embarrassing twitch at that statement. Somehow, despite having come less than five minutes ago, he’s already half-hard.
“...I’m clean too,” Sukuna replies. He begrudgingly positions himself on his back on the bench, which only requires a little bit of awkward maneuvering. In this position, Yuuji is haloed above him, frizzy hair backlit. He’s all Sukuna can focus on.
“Can I kiss you?” Yuuji asks softly. His lips are plush and pink and suddenly the center of Sukuna’s universe. Sukuna nods dumbly.
Yuuji slowly leans down, telegraphing his moves like he’s afraid Sukuna will run away. Their lips brush, softly at first, the kiss gradually getting more and more heated. Yuuji’s tongue swipes against his bottom lip and he opens his mouth eagerly. He reaches up to finally wind his hands through Yuuji’s hair, giving a rough tug that pulls their chests together. Yuuji moans into his mouth and returns the favor with a sharp nip to his lip.
The first brush of Yuuji’s cock against his stomach makes him start. Yuuji just bites him again, drawing a tiny bit of blood that turns the kiss coppery and metallic. Sukuna pulls his hair roughly, trailing his other hand down to grope one firm pec.
Yuuji pulls back after a minute, but Sukuna’s hand stays in place. “Your tits…” he mumbles quietly.
The other man laughs. “I’m glad you like them,” he says as he sits back up all the way. “Can you help me with something?”
Sukuna nods again, pinching the nipple.
“I’m still, well, a bit tied up at the moment, so...can you hold your cock for me?” Yuuji bites his lip and grins down at Sukuna.
Sukuna has never really been the type to pursue multiple orgasms in a row, so the sudden resurgence of his refractory period is a little surprising, but if he can get inside Yuuji again, he won’t complain. He reaches one hand down to position his erection correctly, the other settling again on Yuuji’s waist.
Yuuji sinks onto his cock with a blissed-out expression, not even pausing to catch his breath before lifting himself up and slamming back down. His rambling dirty talk from earlier has vanished, replaced by heavy breathing and low moans whenever he sinks back down.
Sukuna runs his hands over Yuuji’s muscled thighs, over his hips where—indeed—finger-shaped bruises are beginning to show. Yuuji’s skin is warm under his touch. The earlier orgasm and the change in sensation from ditching the condom make every twitch of Yuuji’s hole feel like a live wire straight to his dick. It’s almost too much, all he can focus on as Yuuji bounces on his cock, keeping his balance perfectly even with his arms tied behind his back. Like this, Sukuna can see the way his flush spreads all the way down his neck to his chest, the way his pecs jiggle every time he bounces.
“Fffuck, Yuuji—” he bites out, gritting his teeth. The sensation is all he can focus on, his cock raw and throbbing. He throws an arm over his face. The last thing he sees is Yuuji’s teeth, gleaming and split in a broad grin.
With his arm obstructing his vision, all sensation fades. The glare of the overhead lights is reduced to nothing, all he can hear is the slick sound of his cock moving in and out of Yuuji’s ass. Yuuji is panting, moaning every time he drops down, and someone is letting out quiet, high-pitched whines.
“Good boy,” Yuuji croons above him, low enough that the audience can’t hear, and oh, fuck, that’s him making that noise, isn’t it? He grasps weakly at Yuuji’s hips. His hands slip a bit against the sweat-slick skin before he finally finds his grip. Even then, it’s a pale imitation of the powerful hold he had before. Instead of a punishing friction, he’s barely hanging on. Really he’s only anchoring himself to reality as Yuuji rides his dick into oblivion.
“God, fuck—that’s good—” Yuuji gasps above him.
Sukuna racks the very back of his mind for the phrases he normally says during dirty talk. “You’re a—hah—good slut, aren’t you?” he pants, frankly impressed that he can form words at all.
Yuuji rolls his hips. “Isn’t that my line?
Sukuna comes with a sharp gasp, hips stuttering up. He grabs onto Yuuji’s hips and fucks into him with the strength of a man possessed. Yuuji just moans, still grinding against him, and keeps rolling his hips down. Distantly, he’s aware of Yuuji coming, too, can feel him tightening around his cock, but it’s all background noise to the white-hot pleasure coursing through his entire body. His fingertips are numb, his entire body buzzing like it fell asleep in the sexiest way possible.
“Oh, shit,” he groans out.
Yuuji wiggles above Sukuna, ass clenching around his softening cock. “Haahh, that was fun,” he says. Their eyes meet, Yuuji’s gaze half-lidded. He leans down and licks a rough stripe up his chest. Despite just riding the shit out of him, Yuuji still holds himself up effortlessly. His ab workout must be insane.
Sukuna bites back a whine as Yuuji laves his tongue up his neck and tugs on his earlobe with his teeth. “You’re cute, Suku,” he whispers, close enough and quiet enough that their audience can’t hear. He sits back up, bouncing a little bit. Sukuna closes his eyes against the sensation. He feels raw and overstimulated in a way that he’s never felt before.
“You gonna clean me up, huh?” Yuuji asks cutely, batting his eyes.
“Fuck, yeah, just…” Sukuna abruptly wishes they were alone, instead of on stage, so he could curl up and cuddle Yuuji. His brain feels like jello. “...Give me a second.” He lays his head back on the bench with a thunk, his eyes closing without permission.
“...Sukuna?” Yuuji asks. He sounds amused, mostly, but also a little worried.
Worried? Why would he be worried? Sukuna is doing great. He’s great, Yuuji’s great, the ache of his muscles and wet heat still around his cock is great. Lying here is great. He’s just gonna...do that for a while. “Mmrph,” he replies intelligently.
He’s vaguely aware of Yuuji shifting off of him, of soft voices murmuring somewhere up and to the left. The searing overhead lights dimming. A warm, wet cloth wiping off his chest and crotch. And then warm hands splayed over him, slipping underneath him, gently coaxing him up. Quiet platitudes mumbled as he’s guided off the bench, a soft robe slipped over his shoulders. A warm, calloused hand slips into his and tugs, and he lets himself be guided up. He sways gently back and forth once he’s on his feet. “Come on, baby,” somebody murmurs.
Sukuna lets himself be led off the stage. The crowd parts around him, sibilant murmurs rising in volume, and he shrinks a little bit, but whoever’s leading him just tightens their grip on his hand and continues to whisper reassurances. He relaxes, bit by bit, as he’s led into a narrow hallway painted in deep red, wall sconces throwing the corners into deep shadow.
A door opens. More murmured voices. Against his better instinct, he stumbles closer to the owner of the hand still in his. It feels comforting. Safe. He lets himself go slack, his weight held up by the press of a warm body.
The body chuckles, its laugh reverberating. “...Yeah, I’ll let you know if I need anything,” it says. “Thanks again.”
“It’s my pleasure,” another voice replies. “Thank you, Yuuji.”
Ah. Yuuji. That’s who led him here, whose hand is still pressed into his, whose chest he’s currently slumped against. That brat who showed up, mouthed off to him, and then fucked his soul out of his body. Hrrnng.
“Come on,” Yuuji is saying, “let’s go sit down. I bet you’re tired, huh?” He keeps talking as they stagger into the room, propelling them effortlessly to a plush couch despite bearing the weight of a grown man. “Here, drink this.” A water bottle is pressed to his lips, and Sukuna takes a sip, then another, then another. Shit, he didn’t realize how thirsty he was. He gulps down almost half of the bottle before it’s taken from him. He whines, squirming closer, not thirsty anymore but still craving that sense of intimacy.
Yuuji laughs, carding fingers through his hair. “Haha, okay,” he says. “You okay? You need anything? More water? A snack?”
No, Sukuna decides, nuzzling into Yuuji’s side. He just wants to cuddle.
“...Baby? I need an actual answer here.” Yuuji says. “Not that I know how this is actually supposed to go, but Megumi said it was important to figure out what he actually needs since he doesn’t usually….” he trails off.
“Fuck Megumi,” Sukuna mumbles, his face pressed into Yuuji’s delectably firm chest. “...jus’ wanna cuddle.”
“Okay, baby,” Yuuji says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and tugs him closer.
They lay like that, sprawled halfway across the couch, with Yuuji thumbing circles into the small of his back, and Sukuna comes back to himself, bit by bit.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbles when he realizes what just happened. His face is still smushed in Yuuji’s tits, so the words themselves aren’t entirely discernible, but he thinks the point probably gets across just fine, because Yuuji immediately begins laughing, his chest shaking as he tries to keep himself still. “Hey—stop that—it’s not funny—”
“It’s a little funny,” Yuuji says, bringing a hand up to swipe at the corner of his eye. “But seriously, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sukuna grumbles. “Just fucking humiliated.”
Yuuji pats his head again, and he melts back into the embrace. “It’s okay, Sukuna,” he says. “Everybody was super nice about it. I mean, surprised at how hard you dropped, but like, they really just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I can never show my face again,” Sukuna laments. “They’re gonna hang me up on the wall of shame. The dom who dropped just because some newbie with a cute ass rode him.” A sudden wave of shame rockets through him, and his gut drops like a stone. “Wait, shit—you were tied up. Who—?”
“Ah, it was one of your coworkers that I didn’t know, with the forehead tattoo,” Yuuji replies.
Sukuna wants to vomit. Kenjaku. Great . Of all the days the club owner could have actually deigned to visit.
“He said if I ever wanted to come back and do an official show with you, I’d be welcome,” Yuuji adds brightly, and Sukuna groans. “Really, though—you’re okay? You don’t need anything else?”
“I’m not the one who was tied up,” Sukuna snarks, and immediately regrets it. The weird mix of adrenaline and endorphins in his system is fucking with his higher thought process. “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry. I mean, I should be the one making sure that you’re okay—”
“I’m good,” Yuuji says, smiling warmly at him. “Seriously.” Sukuna leans forward and captures his lips with his own before he can talk himself out of it. The kiss is just as good as the previous ones, just softer, with less heat to it. Yuuji sighs quietly when they pull apart.
“Can I get your number?” Sukuna blurts out.
“After that performance? You better,” Yuuji replies. “I’m free this Saturday after six pm, and I expect at least one proper date before you fuck me again.”
Despite himself, Sukuna can’t hold back the smile that splits across his face. “Again, huh?”
Yuuji smirks back. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “We’ll see if you can keep up with me next time.”
Sukuna smacks his arm. He can feel the heat rising to his face, but he can’t quite bring himself to be offended. “Next time,” he croons, reveling in the matching blush that spreads across Yuuji’s face. “Next time, you’re not gonna be able to walk straight for a week.”
“That better be a promise,” Yuuji says, and pulls him back in for another kiss.