Archive of Our Own

The air in the lounge was thick and expensive, smelling of cedarwood, cigar smoke, and the sharp, floral tang of overpriced cocktails. It was a world away from the cramped, stale-smelling apartment Megumi shared with his father. Here, velvet ropes separated the worthy from the wanting, but for a little while, Megumi could pretend he belonged.

Megumi kept his eyes forward, on the glittering array of bottles behind the bar. He felt the weight of his situation in the slick, unfamiliar fabric of the dress he’d bought at a thrift store. It was a dark blood red, cut shorter than anything he’d ever worn before and dipping low at the back. His sister, Tsumiki, would have a fit if she saw him. But Tsumiki wasn’t here. It was just him, his empty wallet, and a deadline. Rent was due Monday. His father had gambled away every last cent of it, leaving behind a scribbled, apologetic note that Megumi had crumpled into a tight, useless ball and thrown in the trash.

People had always told him he was pretty. His teachers, his classmates, his father’s friends in moments that made his skin crawl. It always made him uncomfortable, but not tonight — tonight, it was a tool. A tool he didn’t fully know how to wield, but he’d reasoned with himself on the long train ride here: it’s just conversation. A drink. Maybe a hand on the knee, and then he'd go home with them. It can’t be that hard.

He hoped.

He saw a man approach from the corner of his eye, a dark silhouette detaching from further down the bar. Megumi's heart hammered against his ribs, and he forced himself to take a slow, measured sip of his water, the condensation wet on his fingers.

Just look approachable, he told himself. You can do this.

The man slid onto the stool beside him. He was older, maybe in his forties, with a heavy gold watch and a confident smile.

“Buy you a real drink?” the stranger asked, his voice smooth.

Megumi’s own smile felt stiff, a muscle he rarely used.

“Sure,” he managed, his voice softer than normal, like he had practiced, like the way women talked in flirty romcoms. "What would you pick for me?"

The man ordered a champagne cocktail for Megumi and a whiskey for himself. It was bubbly and Megumi had to try not to sneeze when he sniffed it curiously. He had to act like he had done this a hundred times. A thousand. This is normal for him, this was not new to him at all.

They talked. Or rather, the man talked — about his business, his car, his vacation home. Megumi nodded along, offering small, neutral replies, his mind racing. Is this it? Is this what they want? Just a pretty face to listen? The man’s gaze trailed over the bare skin of his shoulders, the line of his collarbone. It made Megumi’s skin prickle, a mix of embarrassment and a strange, hollow power. The champagne was tart and bubbly, and it loosened the knot in his stomach just a little.

"So," the man looked him in the eye. "What do I have to do to take you home with me, gorgeous?"

Megumi’s heart lurched. This was it, his part had come up. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the small clutch purse he’d brought and took out a folded piece of paper to slide across the polished wood of the bar, nudging it towards the man’s whiskey glass. It was just like they did in the movies, and Megumi felt so cool and secretive doing it. On the paper, in his neat, careful handwriting, was a number. The number he’d agonized over for hours, enough to cover their rent, with a little left over for food.

The man’s eyes dropped to the paper, his smile not vanishing, but it changed. It became something knowing, something assessing. When he unfolded it, his eyebrows shot up.

“For one night?” he asked, his tone shifting from charming to transactional.

Megumi’s throat felt like sandpaper. He just nodded.

The man chuckled, a low, dismissive sound. He leaned in, his cologne suddenly too strong.

“Kid, that’s a bit steep. How about we say… half that? We don't need the whole night, just a few hours.”

The offer hit Megumi like a slap. Half? Half wouldn’t even cover a week’s extension on the rent, they were already late. He thought of the note from his landlord, the third one, taped to their door. He thought of Tsumiki’s trusting smile, completely unaware of the tightrope they were walking. He shook his head, his jaw tight.

“No. That’s the price.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

“Look, for that kind of money, I could have my pick. You’re pretty, sure, but let’s be realistic. We can have a good time, I’ll give you a fair amount, and you’ll learn how this works.”

“I know how this works,” Megumi said, the words coming out sharper than he intended, a flash of his usual prickly personality surfacing. He hated the condescension, the way the man was looking at him like a he was someone to teach, someone who was naive and needed guidance. “That’s the amount. I'm not going to lower my standards because you can't afford me.”

The man stared at him for a long moment, his pleasant facade completely gone, replaced by cold annoyance. He drained the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, set the glass down with a sharp clink, and stood.

“Good luck with that,” he muttered, before walking away, the last word murmured under his breath. "Whore."

Oh. Well, yeah, he was… or he was about to be, but that did not feel good. Suddenly, he felt too cold. There were too many eyes on him, and he felt naked in a room full of wolves. Self conscious and too self aware, Megumi picked up his coat and pulled it on. It was his mother's, something fluffy and white. Megumi liked how soft it was, and it looked like it might be expensive. It probably wasn't, though. If it was, his father would have sold it by now.

Megumi was left alone, the echo of the man’s words hanging in the air. The champagne now tasted sour in his mouth. Humiliation burned hot in his cheeks as he stared at the crumpled piece of paper still lying on the bar.

He was right, it was too much. Who was going to pay that for one night?

But he couldn’t go lower. He picked up the paper, smoothing it out with trembling fingers, and tucked it back into his purse. Any less, and he'd have to come out here again and again, multiple times tonight and tomorrow. He was already struggling to do this once, could he handle it more than that? Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe he was in over his head…

No.

Megumi shook his head, clearing the self doubt from his thoughts. He couldn't afford to be discouraged — literally. He was pretty. He was young. That was all he needed.

So the first one said no. So what? There were other men in this room. Other men with eyes on him. He straightened his spine, the movement making the cheap fabric of his dress rustle. He lifted his chin and took a slow, steadying breath.

He would keep going. No matter who it was, no matter what they wanted from him, he would get his price.

Megumi was just starting to compose his features into something soft and approachable again when he felt it.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, telling him he was being watched. No, more than watched — studied closely. It wasn't like the dismissive glances of the other patrons, or the predatory once-over of the man who'd just rejected him. This felt like being pinned under something massive, something that could crush him without effort if it chose to.

Megumi turned his head slowly, following the weight of that stare towards the shadowed corner of the lounge. There was a curved leather couch there, positioned like a throne, half-hidden in the dim light, where a lone man was sitting, eyes fixed on Megumi.

The first thing Megumi registered was his posture, relaxed, legs spread wide, one arm draped along the back of the couch in a gesture of absolute ownership. Not of the furniture, but of the space itself. Of the room. Of anyone in it. His suit was black, perfectly tailored, the fabric so rich it seemed to drink the low light rather than reflect it.

From this distance, Megumi couldn't make out his face, but he could see his eyes. Even in the shadows, they seemed to gleam, dark and knowing and interested.

Every instinct Megumi possessed screamed at him to look away, to turn back to his water, to disappear into the crowd.

He couldn't move.

The man was smoking a cigar, the tip glowing amber in the darkness. He brought it to his lips, and Megumi watched the smoke curl upward, obscuring those intense eyes for just a moment. When it cleared, the man was still looking at him.

And then he smiled.

Just the slightest curve of those lips, a tiny movement that transformed his entire face into something predatory and amused. Before Megumi could process that smile, before he could decide whether to run or stay frozen, the man lifted his hand. One finger curled, once.

Come here.

Megumi's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, his temples, his fingertips. Every rational thought told him to stay put. This man was dangerous, he could feel it in his gut. The fear coiling in his stomach was primal, the kind that predated language.

But beneath the fear, something else stirred, another kind of survival instinct. That cold, hard thing that had solidified after the rejection. He would keep going. No matter who it was. The man on that couch was clearly wealthy, he could see it from over here. The suit alone probably cost more than a year of Megumi's rent.

He couldn't afford to say no.

Megumi's legs felt unsteady as he slid off the barstool, but he made them move. One step, then another, crossing the expanse of polished floor that suddenly felt like a mile. The man's eyes never left him, tracking his approach with the lazy interest of something that had all the time in the world.

The closer Megumi got, the more he felt like he was walking into the lion's den, a helpless prey animal lured into a trap with the scent of food to survive on. Up close, the man was even larger than he'd seemed from across the room. Megumi stopped a few feet from the couch, suddenly acutely aware of how short his dress was, how much skin it revealed, how young and small and completely out of his depth he was.

He stood there, clutching his purse, waiting for the man's next move.

For a long moment, the man simply looked at him, the cigar smoke curling lazily between them. He could feel the eyes tracing his figure like hands caressing his skin. Slowly, a large hand reached out, palm up, and without thinking, Megumi took it. Thick fingers circled his wrist, rough and warm, and pulled.

Megumi stumbled forward, and before he could catch his balance, he was guided sideways so he landed across the man's thighs. the leather of the couch creaked beneath them as Megumi's bare legs pressed against the soft fabric of the man's pants. He could feel the strength of the muscle underneath, the heat of him through the material.

"That's better," the man murmured, his voice sounding exactly like Megumi would have expected — low, unhurried, the kind that didn't need to be raised to be heard.

There was an odd feeling of not knowing what to do with his hands before he settled with putting them in his lap, trying to look comfortable, even though he could feel his heart pounding so hard, there was no way the man couldn't feel it. He was definitely blushing.

The position was intimate, his back leaning against a strong arm, his legs dangling over the man's thighs. It put Megumi lower than him, making him have to look up, even sitting on his lap. He suddenly felt a lot smaller.

"Saw you putting on a show for someone else," the man told him. "He walked away pretty unhappy. What happened?"

Best not to drag this out, right?

"He couldn't afford me."

The man let out a low hum as he considered that.

"Men like to shrink what they can't handle," he told Megumi, his free hand slowly moving up his thigh to rest right below the hem of his dress. "He clearly wasn't good enough for you."

"And you are?" Megumi challenged. The man was making it almost easy to flirt back, all he had to do was keep talking and batting his eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, I can handle anything you have to offer, that isn't the issue." A thick finger traced the skin under the dress, where he was more sensitive. "I'm more concerned with what you can handle. Especially since you've clearly never done this before."

Megumi felt his body react — his shoulders tensing, his eyebrows lifting — before forcing himself to relax. "I've been doing this for a while."

"No, you haven't," he said it with such ease that Megumi felt himself getting defensive. "But that's okay, I don't mind. I like them fresh, sometimes that's more fun. More authentic when they're new."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

The hand on his this thigh squeezed harder, almost enough to bruise, until Megumi winced. Then it stopped. It felt like a test, like the man was testing the waters, looking for a boundary that he didn't yet know wasn't there.

Instead of reacting to it, Megumi lightly grabbed his tie, the silky red fabric shimmering as he held it. Then he leaned forward so his lips hovered next to the man's ear.

"I'm happy to show you," Megumi tried to let his voice sound low and sultry, like the femme fatales did in the movies. They were never denied anything. "Then you can see for yourself exactly what I can handle." Megumi leaned back enough to look him in the eyes. "If you can afford me."

The man's eyes were dark as they moved back and forth between his, and almost amused smirk on his face.

"Alright then. How much?"

Megumi's hands moved to his clutch, but the man scoffed.

"I don't need to see your little paper. Tell me."

But… that was how they did it in the movies, wasn't the paper important? Or was that what was giving him away as someone who had never done this before? Megumi swallowed and tried not to look phased, even though his heart was starting to beat a little faster.

His said his number, and somehow, voicing it out loud felt more embarrassing. It didn't last long though, because the man immediately tipped his head back and started laughing, a short, surprising sound.

"Oh sweetheart, you really are new at this."

His laugh was rough, and it made Megumi blush. Was it really too much? Was he going to be rejected again and have to gather his pride and walk back to the bar in defeat? The man took another slow drag of his cigar and blew the smoke away from them.

"Tell you what," the man showed all of his teeth when he grinned. "I'll double it. But I have some conditions."

If Megumi's heart was racing before, it picked up even faster at the word double. It caught him off guard so much that he almost didn't hear the second part.

"Conditions?"

"I get you for the whole night," the man's hand squeezed again, not as hard as before, but still digging into his thigh. "You leave when I say, not before. You make it until sunrise, I'll hand you the cash — but if you want out before then, for any reason, you get nothing. Understand?"

Double. In cash. The words echoed in his mind, a memory of his father's voice telling him you can fix anything with cash. Rent, food, clothes, things Tsumiki needed for school. This would save them for two months, and there was a lot he could do with that kind of time. He didn't even fully hear what the man said after that.

There was no way Megumi could turn this down. Whatever this man wanted, he would do it.

"I have a stressful job," the man continued. "Long hours, the kinda work that takes the life out of people. I don't want to talk, I don't want to take it slow. I need a distraction, something fun to help me unwind."

"I can do that," Megumi promised with a nod.

"Can you?" the man's head tilted, studying him like he was looking for the lie. "You're a little young for this kind of thing, but if you tell me yes, I'll take you're word for it. I like to let people make their own decisions. But I'll tell you now, I can be intense — I've had a lot of pretty little things make pretty promises just to run the second things get rough. I don't have patience for that. If you're going to flinch every time I touch you, then you should leave now. So I'll just ask you this one time: are you sure?"

It was a clear out, and if Megumi was honest, his instincts were telling him to run. This was felt dangerous, and he could tell this night would be a lot for him if he stayed with him.

But on the other hand… double.

And besides, he was tired of being looked down on, being told he was too young, too expensive, that he didn't know what he was doing. He had been called a whore tonight, had been told to lower his worth and rejected. No, he would prove it; he could handle anything this man, or anyone else, gave him.

To drive his point home, Megumi turned slightly, shifting in the man's lap so he could face him better, and let one hand moved down the man's chest. The muscle beneath the expensive shirt was firm against him.

"I don't scare easily," Megumi told him. "I can handle you just fine."

The man looked at him for a long moment, assessing. Then he huffed a short breath through his nose, smirking slightly.

"We'll see about that."

He stubbed his cigar out in a crystal ashtray on the side table and stood. Megumi's feet hit the floor and he stumbled, but the man steadied him before moving his hand to the small of his back and leading him towards a side door that Megumi hadn't noticed before. A large man in a suit stood next to it and opened it as they approached.

Megumi had to walk faster to keep up with the man's longer strides. The door led to a private hallway that leading to a back entrance outside. A car Megumi recognized from magazines rolled up as they walked out and the driver got out to open the door for them. Well, for the man Megumi was with, but he was the one getting in the car first, so it felt like it was for him, too.

Everything around him screamed money, including the way this person was being treated. It made Megumi want to perform as best as he could, and maybe he could earn even more.

Megumi slid across the leather seat and the man followed, closing the door behind him. The windows were tinted so dark that Megumi could hardly see out of them, and a privacy screen was already up between the front and back seats.

As the car started to move, Megumi went to put his seatbelt on, but the sound of the man's chuckle made him stop.

"You won't be needing that," he promised as he reached for Megumi, pulling him into his lap again. This time he was facing him, legs straddling his thighs. "You're perfectly safe back here. From accidents, at least."

The position was more intimate, his short dress riding up with his spread thighs. He could feel everything, the hard line of the man's chest, the heat of his hands on his hips, and — the gun holster brushing against his knee. It all made Megumi swallow.

"Comfortable?" the man asked as his hands started wandering, down to the swell of his ass, up his sides, thumbs brushing the underside of his breasts through the thin fabric of his dress. "Such a pretty little thing, aren't you? And already wearing my colors — how was I not supposed to bring you home with me?"

Megumi felt his heart racing as he stared at him, the eye contact strangely intense as the man smirked in a way that said he knew something Megumi didn't.

"What should I call you?" Megumi asked, partially because the silence was building too much, and he felt the need to fill it.

"Sukuna," the name said simply. And Megumi wasn't sure if it was real or not. He knew better than to ask. "Wanna hear you scream it later."

The words made Megumi blush, not wanting to think about what they would be doing that would made him 'scream.'

"And what about you, sweetheart? What am I calling you?"

"My name is Megumi," he said, and immediately wanted to take it back. He had forgotten to come up with a fake name — didn't they usually make up a name in the movies?

"Megumi," Sukuna said it slowly, like he was tasting it. "Is it really? That's as delicious as you are."

Sukuna's eyes were dark as his hand lifted to Megumi's shoulder, lowering the fabric to reveal the soft skin there. Then without warning, he bit down hard. Megumi couldn't help the sharp, high-pitched cry he let out, equal parts pain and surprise.

When he pulled back, Sukuna stared at the mark he made, touching it lightly and making Megumi wince. He let out a low, pleased hum.

"You mark up easily," he said with a smirk. "That's good. Should last a few days at least."

"Why did you do that?" Megumi asked, his voice smaller than he wanted.

"Because I wanted to," Sukuna's hand moved to the back of Megumi's neck, fingers threading into his hair. "And because I'll do much worse before the night is over. Best you understand that now before we get properly started. Unless you're already wanting to tap out?"

Megumi swallowed, and he could feel his pulse fluttering against the man's palm.

"I said I don't scare easily."

"So you did," the man's fingers tugged at his hair, tilting Megumi's head back, exposing the long column of his throat. "And yet you're shaking. Gonna tell me you're not scared?"

"I'm not," Megumi said, trying to get his nerves under control. He couldn't mess this up now, he was so close.

Sukuna laughed, a low rumbling sound that vibrated through Megumi's chest where they were pressed together.

"Liar," Sukuna dragged his teeth along Megumi's pulse point, not biting, just teasing, letting him feeling the threat of it. "But that's okay. Makes it more fun when the truth finally comes out."

His hands roamed lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, gripping Megumi's hips and pulling him even closer so Megumi's weight settling more firmly in his lap. The dress had ridden up to Megumi's waist now, Sukuna's thumbs tracing circles into the sensitive skin at the top of his legs, dangerously close to where Megumi's underwear (cheap, plain, nothing like what someone in a car like this should be wearing) hid beneath the bunched up fabric.

"Think I'm gonna have quite a bit of fun unraveling you," Sukuna murmured, his mouth moving to Megumi's jaw. "You don't have a clue what you're getting yourself into here, sweetheart."

It was getting harder to think, the more Sukuna touched him. But that was okay — he doubted he needed to think of anything right now. He just needed to feel. When Sukuna cupped his chest, Megumi made a soft whimpering noise, arching his back even further.

Those fingers tightened in his hair again, hard as they pulled him back enough to look at him, those dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and hunger. But just as he was about to speak, his phone went off, urgently buzzing in Sukuna's pocket.

A look of anger flashed across Sukuna's face, just for a blink, before he took the phone out and looked at it. Then he turned to Megumi, who instinctively braced himself, before giving him a knowing smirk.

"On your knees."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a demand given with heat. It was flat, certain, the kind of voice that wasn't questioned when it gave an order.

Megumi's body moved before his mind caught up, sliding off Sukuna's lap and onto the soft carpet of the car floor. On his way down, his elbow brushed against the gun holster. On his knees like this, it was at eye level for him, and he tried not to look at it, even though the thought of it made his heart race.

Had Sukuna ever used it before? He imagined him with it in his hand, the cold metal lightly tracing the side of his face as Sukuna told him what to do. The image had him squeezing his thighs together.

Above him, Sukuna had answered the phone, his tone shifting to something clipped and professional. "Talk."

Megumi chance a glance up. Sukuna wasn't even looking at him, wasn't guiding him, wasn't grabbing the back of his head and forcing him. But he didn't have to; Megumi knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what Sukuna was paying for.

With a steadying breath, an encouraging I can do this pep talk in his head, Megumi reached for the buckle of Sukuna's belt. His fingers felt clumsy and unpracticed; he'd never done this before, and he had a lot riding on being able to convince Sukuna he was a pro at it. To prepare for tonight, Megumi had watched some videos, and while watching on a screen wasn't the same as having his face inches from someone's lap, it was still helpful.

Belt undone, zipper lowered… was he supposed to take his pants off? Or pull them down? He wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that without asking Sukuna to get up. In the videos, they just pulled it out, but there wasn't much room… Megumi tried not to let his hands shake as he struggled to free Sukuna from the constraints of his clothes. He couldn't even congratulate himself on figuring it out, too distracted by the sheer size of Sukuna.

Again, he glanced up to see Sukuna's eyes were still not on him. He was looking out the window as he talked about 'shipments' and 'timelines.' It all sounded very boring. Taking Sukuna into his hand, Megumi leaned forward.

The angle was awkward, so it was a little hard to even get his mouth on him, but he managed it. Then… he had not idea what to do. He thought it would have been intuitive, but it wasn't. Even having seen the videos, the second his lips touched skin, he was suddenly very aware of every single thing he didn't know — how much pressure should he use? What was he supposed to do with his tongue? With the spit rapidly building in his mouth? How was he supposed to breathe?

Closing his eyes, he tried to take Sukuna further into his mouth, just like the videos. It was way too much too fast, and he gagged immediately, pulling back to cough, saliva slick on his lips.

Well, there went his chance at pretending to be a pro.

Sukuna's hand moved to his hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting there. Megumi didn't look up, not wanting to see if he had already messed up too badly.

He tried again, slower this time, keeping his lips sealed over it as he took what he could manage. His jaw ached from the stretch, his eyes watering, and he could feel the weight of Sukuna against his tongue. He wasn't sure what he was expecting it to taste like, but it was somehow surprising that it didn't really taste like anything at all. It was strange and overwhelming and nothing like what he had imagined giving head to be like.

He found he didn't mind it all that much.

Megumi moved experimentally, trying to start a rhythm. It was clumsy at first, at at one point, his teeth accidentally scraped against him, and he felt Sukuna's hips jerk, the hand in his hair tightening.

He pulled off immediately. "Sorry!" he whispered, his voice already a little raspy. "I'm sorry, I —"

"I'll leave it to you," Sukuna kept speaking into the phone, still ignoring Megumi, who stopped talking.

How much more could he mess up? Megumi took a steadying breath and looked back and the half-hard length in front of him. He would not let this defeat him. He could do this. Determined to get it right, Megumi tried again, focusing on keeping his tongue flat, his pressure even, and his rhythm consistent.

It wasn't good. Megumi knew it wasn't good, he could feel his own inexperience in every movement, in the way he had to pull back for air or to give his jaw a break, but he kept going.

The car hummed beneath him, the low vibration of the engine a counterpoint to the wet, awkward sounds Megumi was making. Sukuna's voice droned for a while before finally ending the call. The phone was dropped onto the seat beside him, bouncing on the leather.

Nothing changed. Megumi had thought after his call that Sukuna would grab his face, maybe tell him what to do, but there was nothing. Sneaking a glance up, he was Sukuna's head was leaning all the way back against the seat, eyes closed, like he was sleeping.

Or like he was bored.

Megumi felt a rush of something — embarrassment? Frustration? —and tried harder, his head moving more intentionally, sucking a little harder. But then, maybe that was what he was doing wrong? Maybe copying what he saw in videos was not the best way to make someone feel good. Maybe he should do what came naturally instead?

Eyes fluttering shut, Megumi let himself setting into it, into the warmth of Sukuna in his mouth. He stopped overthinking every movement, stopped second-guessing the angle of his head, the pressure of his tongue, the suction, the pace. He let himself get lost in it.

The hand moved over his head, petting him gently, and Megumi peeked through his eyelashes up at Sukuna.

He was watching him now, those dark eyes half-lidded, his expression unreadable. The hand kept petting him, slow and encouraging, and it felt like a reward.

Something like pride bloomed in his chest and he closed his eyes again and kept going. He was doing it! Maybe he was good at this after all.

Experimentally, Megumi hollowed his cheeks, and he felt Sukuna's thighs tense beneath him, a low, deeply pleasant sound emanating from him. Then the fingers in his hair tightened, holding him still.

"Stop."

Megumi froze, lips still around Sukuna as he opened his eyes and looked up. Sukuna was looking at him with that same unreadable expression, but there was something sharper in his eyes now that wasn't there before.

Slowly, Megumi obeyed, pulling back with an embarrassingly wet sound, saliva covering his chin. He watched as Sukuna tucked himself back into his pants and closed them up. Those dark eyes were still on him, and it made Megumi very aware of what he must look like, kneeling there, dress bunched up around his thighs, mouth swollen and wet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, face warming.

He thought he was doing better…

Sukuna offer him a hand and pulled him up, and a few moments later, the car slowed, taking a few turns before coming to a stop. The driver circled around and opened the door for Sukuna, who got out first. Megumi fixed his dress and grabbed his mother's coat, and by the time he was ready to leave the car, he saw Sukuna's hand waiting to help him out.

It made him feel expensive for a moment, like he was a celebrity on a red carpet. Except he was pretty sure celebrities didn't wear sneakers with dresses.

His legs were will a little unsteady as he walked with Sukuna, his knees a little still and embarrassingly red. Fortunately, there was no one else around to see them. The garage was vast and silent, lit by strips of cool white light that made everything look sharp and clean. Rows of cars gleamed in the shadows, car that Megumi couldn't name but knew cost more than his entire apartment building.

Sukuna walked him to an elevator, and the doors opened as he approached, as if it recognized him. The elevator was small, lined with dark wood and lit with soft amber lights, a stark contrast to the cold gray garage. There were only two buttons, up and down. Sukuna pressed the up arrow, and within seconds, they were at the top.

This time when the doors open, it was to Sukuna's penthouse suite.

It unfolded before him like something from a magazine — no, like something from a dream he was way to poor to be having. The ceilings were impossibly high, dark beams and bright chandeliers overhead. The floors were polished concrete that gleamed. The furniture was low and sleek, and clearly chosen by someone with taste that was as expensive as the items they curated. But the most stunning part was what was straight ahead: floor-to-ceiling windows lined the entire far wall, revealing the city spread out below like a river of lights.

Megumi completely forgot he was supposed to be acting like he saw penthouses all the time, and his mouth fell open. He didn't realize it until he heard Sukuna chuckle.

"Keep making that face, I'm going to start being jealous of the windows."

His mouth closed with a click, warmth flooding his face. The second Sukuna wasn't looking, he toed his shoes off and tried to act like he belonged there. Sukuna walked past him, deeper into the penthouse, and Megumi followed like a duckling, not wanting to get left behind.

They passed through a living area, past a dining table that could easily seat twelve, and into a room at the back. It was smaller than the others, more intimate, lit by dim amber lights that cast everything in a soft gold.

A low couch curved along the back wall, the windows behind it looking over a different slice of the city that made Megumi want to run up to it and peek out and see what was out there. He resisted, of course. He was there to work, not marvel at the view — although he didn't see why he couldn't do both.

He watched Sukuna pick up a tablet, tapping the screen a few times, and a moment later, music began to stream through hidden speakers. Something with a steady beat that was tempting to sway his hips to. He moved to settle heavily onto the couch, like a king taking to his throne, stretching both arms across the back, thighs spread wide, completely at ease and he watched Megumi with that same hungry, patient expression.

With a simple nod of Sukuna's head, Megumi moved closer, dark eyes tracing his body up and down, and he swore he could feel it like a caress. Even with his dress and coat still on, Megumi felt naked.

"Now," Sukuna started, tone low and commanding. "Why don't you show me what I'm paying for. Dance for me, sweetheart."

The music was still pulsing around him, slow with a steady beat that Megumi could feel in his chest. For a moment, he just stared back.

Megumi loved dancing. He went out with his friends sometimes, and his older cousin used to sneak him into clubs all the time. But he had never danced like this before, for one person, privately. Not for a man that held his rent money in his pocket and a gun on his hip. It made him hyper-aware of his every movement, nervous to do something that made him look… unsexy. Or too young.

But Sukuna was waiting. And sunrise was still hours and hours away. For the money he was making tonight, Sukuna deserved a show.

Closing his eyes, Megumi took a deep breath and focused on the music. He found the rhythm in his hips, swaying them in a slow figure eight as he got used to the beat, loosening up every second. If he didn't think about it, if he let himself forget he was being so closely watched, he could almost pretend he was at the club again. It was harder without someone to dance against; Megumi liked to move against someone when he danced, rolling his body against theirs. He remembered the way Sukuna kissed him, the feel of him, the strength in that chest, in those arms, the heat he could feel through his clothes.

Megumi let himself get lost in it. His arms raised as his body bounced, fingers running through his hair, his head falling back slightly. Just as he was hitting a confident streak, he heard a low chuckling.

Immediately, he stilled and his eyes opened. Sukuna was still watching from the couch, those dark eyes still hungry as he smirked playfully at Megumi.

"Not bad, dollface," he said. "But when I say dance, I mean strip."

Heat filled Megumi's face as his thoughts narrowed.

Oh. Right. Sukuna wanted to see what he was 'paying for.' He didn't want to see Megumi swaying in place with his eyes closed. He was messing this up already, wasn't he?

"Don't look so embarrassed," Sukuna continued. "I like watching you move. Keep going."

Trying to hide the shaking of his hands, Megumi went to slide the coat off of his shoulders. It was halfway down his arms when Sukuna spoke again.

"No," he shook his head slowly and Megumi froze. "You're not wearing much under there, you shouldn't lose your clothes that fast. Go slow, draw it out. Make me want to see more."

And now Sukuna was explaining how to give a strip tease. If Megumi wanted to even try and convince him that he knew what he was doing, that he wasn't new to stripping, or going home with someone, or being paid for sex, he needed to pick things up.

If Sukuna found out the truth, that he had never done any of this before, that all of his 'research' was from movies and porn, he might kick him out onto the street.

Slowly, he told himself. Move slowly. He could do that. He pushed the coat off one shoulder, letting the fluffy white fabric drape there for a moment before letting if slide down his arm. He turned as he did the other side, and started moving to the music again. A slower song came on that was perfect for this, and Megumi wondered if this was a playlist Sukuna had prepared for all of the others he had brought here.

Which meant Megumi had to do even better if he wanted to stand out from the competition. He couldn't risk Sukuna getting bored with him and wanting someone else.

The coat slowly slipped down his back, landing in a soft pile at his socked feet. The air was cooler without it, and his skin broke out in little goosebumps where the dress left him exposed, along his arms and where is was cut low in the back.

"Better," Sukuna hummed with approval, spurring Megumi on.

Megumi turned his side with the zipper away from the couch, trying to be discreet as he reached for it and pulled it down. It was just this dress and his panties left, if he didn't include his socks in the strip tease — he couldn't imagine that being sexy. Either way, he didn't have much left, he had to make this one count.

But how could he make taking his dress off sexier?

Facing Sukuna, he started to lower it, his hips still swaying back and forth, his back arched a little as he leaned forward. Just as his bare chest was about to be exposed, he turned around and let the dress lower a little more.

Then he got an idea.

With his dress this low, Sukuna could see the pale expanse of his back, the dip of his waist, the curve of his spine. His hands held the fabric where it was bunched over his lower back, legs spread a little, and started to shimmy it lower, moving his hips back and forth.

When he was ready to take the dress off, Megumi brought his feet together, and bent over.

He knew he had a nice ass. He'd been told enough times, in hallways and in clubs, by girls who were complimenting him, and men who were being creepy. It was unanimous, people liked to look at him from behind.

Legs straight, backed arched, he slowly lowered the dress over his ass and thighs, revealing the little lacy black panties he wore tonight. The dress fell to the floor and Megumi took his time coming back up, stepping out of it one foot at a time.

And, well… that was it. Subtly as he could, Megumi looked over his shoulder to see if Sukuna liked it.

The smirk was gone, his eyes so dark in the low light, they almost looked black as the stared at Megumi's body like he was trying to memorize every inch. The hands that had been resting on the back of the couch were now sitting on his thighs, lightly flexing them like they wanted Megumi's skin against them.

For a moment, Megumi wondered if he was angry. He watched as Sukuna lifted one finger and curled it.

Megumi didn't know why his hands moved to cover his chest as he turned and walked towards the couch. It wasn't like he had much to cover, but still, even stripped down like this, he felt the need to hide himself.

He stopped in front of the couch, and felt the path Sukuna's eyes took as the moved up his body from his ankles to his collarbones, stopping for a moment on where his hands were holding his chest. Finally, they met his eyes.

Without a word, Sukuna put a hand on Megumi's hip, and it felt so warm against his chilled skin as he was guided to straddle his lap again. It was so different without clothes; he could feel everything so much more now, the soft expensive fabric of Sukuna's suit, the warmth of him through his clothes, and the holster of the gun against his thigh.

Megumi's eyes couldn't help but but flicker to it and back up to Sukuna.

And of course, Sukuna noticed.

"Does it make you nervous?" he asked, that smirk peeking through again.

He hesitated, mouth parting just a little before shaking his head, looking up at Sukuna through his lashes. He didn't want Sukuna to think he couldn't handle it.

Sukuna gave a dry chuckle.

"Liar," he said as he took the gun out, making Megumi gasp. "You're making a habit of that tonight, aren't you?"

Megumi only frowned, not knowing what he meant. He had never seen a gun before, not in person. It was silver and looked heavy. He wondered if Sukuna had ever really used it. It looked good in his hands, and seeing him hold it was making Megumi's heart beat faster.

"Doesn't matter. We'll take care of that later."

He put it aside on the couch, and unclipped the harness, taking it off and tossing it to the side. His hands found Megumi's hips, and he was grateful for the warmth.

His thumbs pressed into the soft skin just above the waistband of his panties, the tips of them dipping into the lace.

"Look at you," Sukuna's voice was barely above a murmur, but it covered Megumi like a blanket. "Finally having fun?"

The question made Megumi blink. He hadn't realized until Sukuna had said it but… he was having fun. He liked dancing for him, liked the way he was looking at him, liked when he could tell he was doing a good job. Something about having Sukuna's direct attention made him feel almost powerful, even when he was nervous.

"Maybe," Megumi replied, suddenly feeling flirty. "You're not as scary as you think you are."

Sukuna's eyebrows rose before he let out a laugh, short and surprised, the sound filling Megumi with a strange pride. Megumi got the impression it wasn't the easiest thing to make Sukuna laugh.

"Give it time, sweetheart."

A large hand came up to lightly touch Megumi's wrist where he was still holding his chest.

"You gonna let me see?" he asked, and slowly, Megumi lowered his hands.

Sukuna stared for a moment, Megumi's nerves starting to spike again as he tried not to think about all of the others who sat in Sukuna's lap before him, and what they might have looked like.

But he didn't have to worry for long. He watched Sukuna lick his lips as a large hand moved from his hips up his ribs, his thumb just cupping under his breast. And then he felt it, the hard line of Sukuna in his pants moving a little as he leaned forward, his mouth open.

"No," Megumi pulled back. Just a little bit, but enough for Sukuna's lips not to find his chest.

The hand on his hip tightened, and Sukuna's eyes narrowed. If this were earlier, he might have thought Sukuna was angry again, but now he recognized the look as one of interest.

"No?"

Megumi shook his head, remembering Sukuna's earlier words. Draw it out. Make me want to see more.

"Not yet," Megumi explained. "I'm still dressed."

Sukuna glanced down at Megumi's near-naked body, then back up at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"And that means I'm not done dancing," Megumi shifted in Sukuna's lap, leaning forward just a little. "You wanted to see what you're paying for, right?"

The music filled the space around them, a soft, swaying rhythm with a sultry beat as Sukuna looked at him. Slowly, he smirked again before leaning back against the couch, spreading his arms on the back of it again.

"Alright sweetheart," he said. "Show me."

Megumi didn't overthink it this time. He turned around so his back was against Sukuna's chest, closed his eyes, and focused on the music. It had shifted to something a little faster, bouncier, and he started to move his hips to it. A slow rocking that turned into him rolling his hips in a slow circle, feeling the friction of Sukuna's pants under him.

It was easier to dance like this, with someone instead of alone. It felt more natural to him. He placed his hands on the edge of the cushion between Sukuna's spread thighs, letting him lean further forward and arch his back. His cousin has taught him how to do this at a sleepover once, how to move in a way that made his ass bounce.

He knew what he looked like, the curve of his spine, the way his black panties rode up slightly with each movement. And of course, his ass. He knew he looked amazing like this.

His hips slowed to a roll, letting the movement flow up his body, the music thrumming through him as he straightened and leaned back. He let his head fall against Sukuna's shoulder, getting more into the feeling of it. He could feel how hard Sukuna was, and it excited him.

He did that. He made Sukuna want more.

Feeling confident, Megumi grabbed Sukuna's hands and put them on his thighs. His back was to Sukuna's chest, and if felt good to move against him, swaying with the movement, his hips moving in little figure eights. Sukuna's hands were warm as they gripped his thighs, then his hips, one of them moving to finally cup his chest, making Megumi gasp.

He ground his ass down against Sukuna's lap, and felt the vibration in his chest of the sound he made. So Megumi did it again. And again, moving in a steady rhythm.

Megumi was having fun.

The thought surfaced like a little bubble through water, clear and sudden. He looked good. He felt good. Sukuna was enjoying him, couldn't take his eyes off him, and Megumi liked being watched. He was earning it, the money he was about to get; he was worth it.

It made him feel sexy and expensive.

Sukuna's hand grabbed his hair, a fistful of strands, pulling his head back against Sukuna's shoulder, hard enough that Megumi's arched his back and gasped.

The music kept playing as he went still.

Sukuna's mouth was in his ear, his breath how, his voice rough as he spoke.

"You're enjoying playing with me, aren't you?" he asked, his free hand sliding slowly across Megumi's body, spreading flat across his stomach. "Did you forget what you were supposed to be doing?"

Megumi's pulse hammered in his chest. He couldn't shake his head with Sukuna's fist in his hair, so he just breathed and waited.

"You were supposed to strip, sweetheart," Sukuna continued calmly, like they were just talking. "And here you are, still in your panties."

The hand on his stomach slid down his stomach, the fingers lightly tracing over the black lace.

"I think it's time you finished what you started — unless you want me to do it for you?"

Megumi's voice was stuck in his exposed throat, trapped behind the pounding of his heart and the heat spreading through his body.

Sukuna's thumb traced the edge of the lace, following the delicate pattern across his hip to the front of his panties. A thick middle finger traced a slow line down the center, right over where Megumi was most sensitive, and his body jerked in Sukuna's lap, a sharp involuntary twitch that made his hips buck forward. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shock through him that caught him off guard.

There was a low humming noise in his ear, curious and pleased as that finger traced the same path again, slowed this time, pressing just a little harder. Megumi's thighs clenched as he gasped.

"So responsive," Sukuna muttered, more to himself than to Megumi.

His fingers hooked the side of his panties and pulled them to the side, exposing him to the empty room and making Megumi bite back a whimper. His body started to shake like he was cold, starting between his legs and spreading out to his limbs.

Sukuna's finger was calloused and warm against his skin when he touched where he was exposed, tracing lightly over his lips as Megumi shook against him. He felt the rough drag of a fingertip over his clit and Megumi gasped, starting to squirm in Sukuna's hold. He couldn't help it. The touch was light, barely a caress, but his body reacted like he'd been struck by something when Sukuna did it again, his hips jerking, his back arching.

The hand not between his legs let his hair go and moved to his throat, not squeezing but holding him steady.

"Stay still," Sukuna's words sounded like a threat, and Megumi quickly obeyed.

Megumi had touched himself before. Fumbling and curious, alone in his room at night when he couldn't sleep. But this was different; this was someone else's hand, a man's fingers tracing the places he had never shown anyone before. It was brand new to him, this intense feeling that was unraveling him so easily.

Sukuna pulled his hand away, and Megumi immediately whimpered at the loss — he couldn't help that either. When he opened his eyes, curious as to why Sukuna had stopped, and saw Sukuna lifting up his hand. Between his first and middle fingers, spread apart in a 'V', was a thin, glistening string of slick.

"So wet for me already, sweetheart?" Sukuna's voice was low, almost amused. "And I've barely touched you."

Megumi's face burned. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor, to cover himself with a blanket. Shame and heat were twisting in his stomach. Was he supposed to say something? Did Sukuna want him to explain why he was so sensitive?

Before he could think which words to stumble on, Sukuna's hand left his throat and slid down, over his collarbone, over his chest, and found his nipple. He lightly pinched it between two fingers, a firm pressure as he rolled it, the other hand returning to between his legs. Megumi's breath caught as thick fingers parted him easily, finding his clit and moving in slow, lazy circles.

The music was still playing, the bass thrumming through the floor, the perfect sound to lose himself to as his brain completely shut off. His chest rose and fell with his shallow, desperate breathing as he closed his eyes, head tipping back against Sukuna's shoulder. Lips brushed the shell of his ear as Sukuna whispered to him.

"So fucking wet for me," Sukuna sounded so good, his voice only winding him up more. "You like this, don't you sweetheart? Being touched like this, being watched. You wanna be taken apart by someone who knows exactly what you need."

The tip of a finger slipped inside of him and Megumi's hips bucked.

"Such a sweet little thing, I bet you like being scared. Gets you nice and warmed up, doesn't it?"

The finger moved deeper, and a second one joined, and Megumi let out a loud moan, shameless, the kind he'd only heard in porn.

"That's okay, you don't have to say it. You'd just lie anyway, but your body knows the truth. And so do I."

Megumi couldn't stop rolling his hips. A tight, hot pressure was building low in his belly, and he was starting to tense up. His breath was coming faster, needy little sounds spilling from his lips, his hands scrabbling against the couch seeking something to hold on to. His body reacted on its own, pressing back against Sukuna's chest as he braced for the imminent release.

"Please," he heard himself say, his voice high and desperate and nothing like the sultry femme fatale he'd been trying to imitate all night. "Please, please, please —"

His back arched, thighs trembling, he was so close — and then Sukuna's hand left him.

Megumi's eyes flew open, mouth hanging open, as his whole body tensed up and protested, left so achy and needy that it hurt.

A sound of protest rose in his throat, but before he could form a single word, Sukuna's hand came down hard to slap him between his legs.

The sound was sharp, and Megumi yelped from both the pain and the shock. His legs tried to close, his body jerking forward instinctively as if wanting to escape, but he wasn't able to get far before Sukuna tightened his grip on him.

Lips moved to his ear, Sukuna's voice almost growling when he spoke.

"You don't come unless I say you can. Understood?"

Megumi's thighs shook, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he nodded. Fear spiked through him at how easily Sukuna hurt him, and how much he seemed to like it, but underneath that, Megumi realized he liked it, too.

He was still having fun. He wasn't sure what that said about him.

The hands that both made him feel good while also scaring him, roughly shoved Megumi off of Sukuna's lap before the man stood up. Before he could even think to cover himself, Sukuna grabbed him around the waist and lifted him like he weighed nothing, tossing him over his shoulder. Megumi grunted from having Sukuna's shoulder in his stomach, more focused of trying to breathe as he was carried to another room.

Sukuna's bedroom was enormous; there were floor-to-ceiling windows over an entire wall that displayed a beautiful view of the city outside. The rest was decorated in dark furniture and artwork, and in the center was a massive bed. Megumi didn't get to appreciate any of it, however, as he was unceremoniously tossed onto the mattress.

The sheets were cool against his skin, something that felt expensive, as his body bounced in the center of it. He barely had time to orient himself before Sukuna was climbing onto the bed after him.

The mattress dipped under Sukuna's weight as he moved closer; he was still fully dressed, looking like he had just stepped out of a board meeting, not a single crease out of place. Compared to Megumi, whose last piece of clothing barely covered anything.

"I think I'm getting addicted to the way you look at me."

Megumi laid there, feeling like prey as Sukuna looked down at him, either the air over his skin or the energy in the room raising goosebumps over his arms. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears with how hard it was pounding, and he tried not to let his eyes open too wide as it finally hit him.

This was it. They were about to have sex.

He had been ignoring it all night, not letting himself think too hard about what would happen or what it would feel like or how much it would hurt. He only let himself focus on the next moment, the next touch, doing whatever he could to make Sukuna like him, to make him interested, get them to this moment. Now it was here, and he couldn't hide from it anymore.

His mind told him to take a deep breath, to calm down so he could pretend he had been here a hundred times, but his lungs weren't listening, they wouldn't expand enough. He knew he was going to mess this up, and he was scared.

Sukuna was looming over him, easy to do with how much bigger he was. He watched Megumi with his head tilted, his eyes dark as they traveled over his body, and Megumi wondered if he could already tell something was wrong.

"Turn over," Sukuna told him. "Ass up, face down."

Megumi's mouth went dry, but he did as he was told, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up onto his knees. The sheets were cool against his chest, and he tucked his arms under himself to try and feel warmer. His body was shaking, and he hoped Sukuna didn't notice it.

A warm hand touched over his lower back, the weight settling there as the other hand traced lightly over his thighs, a finger feeling the edges of his panties. The touch was almost comforting, and Megumi exhaled a little, even though his body stayed tense.

"Do you know what I do for a living?" Sukuna asked him, his hands still moving.

The question caught Megumi off guard, and he frowned against the pillow as he shook his head.

"I deal with liars," he continued. "People who think they can take something that isn't theirs, people who make promises they can't keep. Part of my job is to find them, and when I do…" A thumb traced the crease where Megumi's thigh met his ass, the sensitive touch making him shiver. "I make them tell me the truth."

Megumi listened, not knowing where this was going. If Sukuna wanted to talk about work, he wasn't going to interrupt him, but he didn't see what this had to do with him, and what they were about to do.

"I'm good at it," Sukuna's voice was light and conversational, but something about it was making Megumi nervous. "I can always tell when someone is lying to me, something always gives them away. And even though I tell people this and give them a chance to come clean — even though I warn them — they lie to me anyway, to my face, looking me in the eye. It's insulting."

Megumi stared at the blanket his face was pressed against; he couldn't see Sukuna's face from this position, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. His body was tense like he was bracing for something, and his stomach was in knots.

"And then I have to punish them."

The hand on Megumi's lower back pushed a little, making him arch just slightly, but feeling a lot more exposing.

"You've been lying to me all night, sweetheart," Sukuna said quietly. "About almost everything. I didn't mind then; we didn't know each other, and you didn't know what to expect from me. But that changes now. I deal with liars everyday, and I would like a break from that, so for the rest of the night, you're going to tell me the truth. Understand?"

After a moment, Megumi nodded against the bedding; a part of him wanted to deny it, but his instincts were screaming danger, and he decided against it. There was no way Sukuna could really tell if he was lying, right?

"This should be really simple," Sukuna told him. "I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to tell me the truth. If you do, you'll be rewarded, and if you lie, you'll be punished. We'll start off easy, I want you to say yes or no."

Megumi closed his eyes and waited.

"Are you having fun right now?"

That… wasn't what he thought Sukuna was going to ask. He thought about what he had said, how he wanted honesty, but… Sukuna was also paying him for some fun. Surely he didn't want to hear that Megumi was not enjoying this? And since Sukuna couldn't see his face, this should be easy enough to answer.

"Yes."

The hand over his ass lifted and came down and Megumi gasped — not so much from pain, it wasn't a hard hit despite the loud sound — and his body flinched in surprise. Did Sukuna just fucking spank him? Megumi wanted to turn and glare at him, because how dare he! Not even his father spanked him when he was a kid and did something wrong, but Megumi stayed still and listened as Sukuna spoke.

"That was just a test," Sukuna's hand rubbed over the spot he struck. "I can see how hard you're shaking, sweetheart. You're not having fun right now, and that's okay. But what's not okay is lying to me. The next one will be real, so the truth this time."

The shock and indignation quickly faded into anticipation as Megumi remembered how much Sukuna seemed to enjoy hurting him and just how vulnerable he was right now. He was still unconvinced Sukuna could always tell when he was lying, but if he wanted to hear what he thought was the truth, Megumi could do that for him.

"One more time," Sukuna said, and Megumi's fingers gripped the blanket under him to brace himself. "Are you having fun right now?"

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut tight and shook his head.

"Yes or no."

Lips trembling, Megumi managed a weak, "No."

"Good boy," Sukuna's voice was warm as he praised him, his hand petting over his ass like he was puppy earning a treat.

Despite the way his face was burning, Megumi kind of liked it. A little bit of tension left his shoulders as Sukuna spoke again.

"Next question," he prompted, and Megumi took a slow breath. "Have you ever done something like this before?"

Megumi's eyes opened; that… was vague. Was Sukuna referring to him being spanked? Or being punished by a stranger? Or was he asking the thing Megumi was dreading: if he had any experience with men at all?

They all had the same answer, but he couldn't admit that; not yet. The safest answer though, the one Sukuna probably wanted to hear, rose to his lips.

"No."

It wasn't a lie by any means, but it could refer to so many things that he was pretty sure he could get away with it, and he was right.

"Good boy," Sukuna said, and the words sent an unexpected rush through him that was little confusing but not entirely unwelcome. Megumi let himself enjoy it, until Sukuna spoke again. "Have you ever been paid for sex before?"

He paused for just a moment, because no, there was no way Sukuna could know that. Was there? The lie filled his head: yes, of course, I've done this a hundred times, I know what I'm doing.

"Yes."

The word was barely out of his mouth when Sukuna's hand came down, and this time, Megumi's reaction was from the pain. The sound was sharper than the other one, loud in his ears as pain bloomed across his ass. A cry was pulled from his throat, his body flinching, and his eyes immediately watered as tears prickled at the corners.

And underneath the pain, a sudden rush of humiliation streamed through him.

"Let's try again," Sukuna's voice was unchanged as Megumi unraveled underneath him. The hand on his low back felt like steel as he kept Megumi in place, the other feeling like fire as it rested over his ass. "Have you ever been paid for sex before?"

Megumi turned his face further into the blanket, wanting to hide even though it didn't change anything. The truth felt like a stone in his stomach; he had been so careful, practicing his answers in the mirror, watching movies to learn how women talked and smiled, watching porn to see how they made men feel good. He had been doing his best, and it was all falling apart.

His face felt hotter than Sukuna's hand against his burning skin as he whispered, "No."

Sukuna hummed a pleasing sound, and his hand started rubbing over him again. The touch almost eased the burn from his skin and his body leaned into it without his say. It kind of felt nice, going from punishment to being touched gently.

It was confusing, the mixture of things he was feeling: relief that Sukuna hadn't hit him again, physical shock fading into something he didn't recognize that was buzzing under his skin, the relief from Sukuna's hands, and the mounting dread of the next question.

Sukuna was going to keep peeling back his layers, exposing the truth, and even though there was nothing he could do about it, he knew he would fight it anyway.

"Have you ever let a man take you home before?"

Megumi's mind raced to find the 'right' answer. There was still a chance Sukuna didn't know, but suspected, the truth, and he really didn't want to be hit again. But then again, the truth would highlight his inexperience, and he couldn't let Sukuna know that, no matter how hard he hit him.

"Yes."

The sound of Sukuna's sigh preceded the next spanking, which was just as loud, just as painful on his other cheek. Megumi cried out again, sharp and bright and embarrassing, His body shuddered, but Sukuna's hand kept him in place as his hands gripped the sheets.

"All I wanted," Sukuna's tone was heavy with disappointment. "Was one night of honesty. I'm not asking for too much, Megumi. Lie to me again, and you'll get two. Now let's try that again, the truth this time: have you ever let a man take you home before?"

The tears he had been fighting spilled over, soaking into the bedding under him. He couldn't see, he think, he couldn't breath; he just didn't want to be spanked again.

"No."

"That's better," Sukuna's hand went back to gently petting over the spot he had hit. "Was that so hard? I promise you, being honest with me will only be good for you, Megumi."

Megumi hated how his body leaned into the gentle touch, like he was craving it, he hated how Sukuna's words made him ache with something that felt like longing; he wanted more praise, he wanted Sukuna to be proud of him, to call him 'good' again.

But he knew what the next question was going to be, and he couldn't… he couldn't tell Sukuna the truth.

Megumi had never been touched before, not only like the spanking, but at all. He had gotten drunk and kissed people before, but nothing beyond that. No one had put their hands on him the way Sukuna had, no one had seen him naked, no one had ever —

If Sukuna knew, would he make Megumi leave? Would he stop, push Megumi off of the bed, and tell him to get out? Would he be mad at him, this stupid lying virgin who thought he could trick him by selling something he had never even tried giving away for free?

He couldn't afford that — literally, he needed this money, and he was already too far in to quit now. So he pressed his face into the blanket he was still holding on to, letting it absorb his tears as he tried to stop his body from shaking.

No matter what, Sukuna couldn't know the truth.

"One more question, sweetheart," Sukuna promised quietly. "And I want you to be honest with me."

Megumi braced himself, knowing what was coming.

"Are you a virgin?"

The words hung in the air over him, and it felt like his heart stopped. No, he couldn't admit that. His hands held onto the blanket for dear life as he lied.

"No."

Sukuna spanked him twice, one on each side of his ass, and for a moment, it felt like he left his body. He barely even heard himself scream, his knees shaking on the mattress. but it didn't matter.

"No!" Megumi's desperation was thick in his voice. "I'm not —"

Two more, and Megumi's body tried to get away instinctively, but Sukuna's hand on his back pressed down.

"I'm not a virgin, I swear —"

This time when Sukuna hit hit, the pain white-hot and blinding, Megumi couldn't take any more. He scrambled away from Sukuna, crawling frantically towards the headboard, away from Sukuna's reach. When he ran out of bed, Megumi twisted onto his back, ignoring the sharp pain of his ass against the sheets as he looked up at Sukuna through a blur of tears.

Sukuna didn't move, just stayed kneeling there, watching Megumi with dark eyes and an expression that Megumi couldn't read.

"Please," Megumi begged, his voice wet and broken. "Please don't — don't make me leave."

He watched Sukuna's head tilt slightly, eyes narrowing as Megumi's chest heaved. The words tumbled out of him now, a flood of desperation he couldn't hold in anymore.

"I'll do anything, anything you want, but please — I need the money, I need it, rent is due on Monday and my father lost what we had, and my sister doesn't know, and I —"

Megumi choked on a sob, hating himself more and more with each word. It felt hopeless, why would Sukuna want anything to do with this mess on his bed?

"Please don't kick me out, I'll do whatever you want, I'll be good, I swear. Just please, don't…"

He couldn't finish, his throat had closed up, more tears spilling down his cheeks. His body was shaking, and he couldn't breathe.

He didn't realize Sukuna was moving until he felt hands holding his face, warm and gentle. His thumb brushed away the tears on his cheeks, and Megumi chanced opening his eyes just a little. Sukuna was looking at him with an unexpectedly soft expression that made all of his thoughts and panicking pause for the moment.

"Shh," Sukuna murmured low and soothing, like Megumi was a frightened animal. "Breathe, sweetheart. It's okay, I'm not going to make you leave. Just breathe."

Megumi blinked, a few more fresh tears spilling over as he hiccuped.

"Y-you're not?"

"You've got this all wrong, kid," Sukuna shook his head, his lips almost curled into a smile. "I wouldn't make you leave just because you're a virgin. I just need to know what I'm working with, I need to know who I'm working with. I can't do the things I want to do with you properly if I don't know that."

Sukuna leaned forward and kissed him softly on the forehead.

"No, I won't make you leave," he promised. "But let me be very clear with you."

The hands on his face remained tender, the look in his eyes soft, but his voice was cold when he spoke.

"I cannot tolerate being lied to. If you do it one more time — just one, sweetheart — I am going to beat your ass raw. Not these little love taps I've been doing, I will make it so you can't bear to sit down for a week, and I will not let you get away from me again. Do you understand me?"

Megumi felt his eyes go wide and his lips trembled as he felt just how serious Sukuna was being. Head barely moving, he nodded against Sukuna's hands.

"Good. Then I'm going to ask you one last time," Sukuna's thumbs stroked over his cheeks, almost lovingly. "Are you a virgin?"

For a long moment, they only looked at each other, and Megumi held his breath. It felt like he was being told to close his eyes and walk off a cliff, and trust that there was something there to catch him.

Megumi's face crumpled, the tears falling freely without him even trying to stop them.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't — I thought you wouldn't —"

He leaned against Sukuna's hands, not knowing why he was feeling so much, but the tears wouldn't stop. Everything was still for a while as Sukuna held him while he cried… until the hands on his face tightened suddenly.

"Fuck."

Confused, Megumi blinked his eyes open to see Sukuna's face was so close to his, he could feel his breath on the wet paths the tears left. His eyes were darker than before, and there was something in his expression that almost looked hungry.

"Do you have any idea," Sukuna asked him, sending chills up his spine. "How good you look when you cry?"

Megumi's mouth opened but no sound came out. He didn't understand what Sukuna meant; his face was blotchy, his nose was running, tears were still clinging to his lashes, and he was still hiccuping from his sobbing. How could anyone see that as looking good?

Not that he got a chance to ask; Sukuna's hand moved to grab his throat and next thing he knew, his back was on the bed, Sukuna almost slamming him down. Before he could orient himself, a rough hand grabbed one of his legs behind the knee and pushed it up towards his face, forcing his thighs open and bending him in half.

His bare ass lifted off the mattress , exposed to the cool air and the city lights beyond the windows. The other leg quickly followed until he was spread wide, only his panties keeping him from being completely exposed.

Sukuna's hand was hot against the back of his thigh and he hummed, low and approving, his eyes tracing over what the panties were not covering.

"You mark up so perfectly," Sukuna murmured, almost like he was thinking out loud and not actually speaking to him. "God, look at you."

Fingers slipped under the lace around his hips, and in seconds, the panties slipped off of him. Instinctively, Megumi tried to close his legs, but the effort only made Sukuna laugh as he easily kept him open.

The hand on his skin went from warm to cool as he moved it over his ass, making Megumi hiss at the sting. He watched Sukuna's tongue lick his lips like he was staring down his next meal before lowering himself between Megumi's legs.

Broad shoulders pressed against the backs of Megumi's thighs, keeping them open, and his face went scarlet when he felt Sukuna's breath ghosting over where he was most sensitive. His hands flew up to cover his face, hiding pitifully behind his fingers, unable to watch whatever it was Sukuna was about to do to him.

"No," Sukuna's voice made Megumi flinch. "Don't hide from me, I want to see your face."

Megumi peeked through his fingers to see Sukuna looking up at him from between his thighs, his eyes intense. A few seconds later, he earned a glare that sent a ripple of fear through him.

"I've been very patient with you tonight, Megumi, but I do not like repeating myself. Listen the first time, or you'll regret it."

His shaking hands immediately lowered away from his face, falling to the bed and grabbing the sheets. Sukuna made a pleased sound before looking over his body, his lips curling as he took in how open Megumi was before him.

His body flushed with shame and fear and underneath all of that, a little bit of excitement. He saw a flash of Sukuna's teeth as the man smiled before his face lowered — and bit down on Megumi's inner thigh.

A sharp yelp escaped him, but before he could catch his breath, Sukuna pulled off and moved higher up the other thigh, sinking his teeth in again. Megumi could feel the shape of Sukuna's mouth against his soft skin, the wet heat of his tongue as he held the bite there. His hips jerked, a broken ah! falling from his lips as he felt the sting bloom across his skin like a flower opening.

When Sukuna pulled back to admire with work with a pleased grin, Megumi was panting. He didn't have to look to know his skin was already turning red and beginning to bruise on the pale insides of his thighs. He wondered if Sukuna drew blood; it certainly felt like it.

"Fucking perfect," Sukuna muttered to himself, his fingers tracing over the marks and trailing lower, lower, until Megumi gasped and the touch between his legs, two fingers holding him open.

"You like this, don't you?"

Megumi blinked his eyes open, not realizing he had closed them. Sukuna was smirking knowingly at him, making him frown in confusion.

"Don't bother trying to lie," Sukuna playfully warned him. "Even if I couldn't tell, your body is already showing me exactly how much you're enjoying this."

His thighs twitched with the tips of those fingers touched his opening, just briefly, and lifted into the air. Sukuna spread the fingers apart slowly, and Megumi saw what he meant: thin strands of slick clung to Sukuna's fingers, and immediately, Megumi wanted to disappear. Humiliation burned through him, and he started to bring his hands up to his face, but remembered at the last second and lowered them again, which earned him a dark and pleased sound from Sukuna.

"Good boy," he praised as his fingers went back to lightly teasing between his legs, touching around where he was most sensitive but not where he wanted them most. "Finally learning to listen."

It was maddening how just a few light touches with the tips of his fingers could make him feel so much. His thighs started to shake from both the feeling and the anticipation of more.

"Has anyone else ever touched you here? Before me?"

Megumi hesitated in answering, and those dark eyes flashed to his, and his ass throbbed in pain before he could even consider lying.

"I've…" Megumi's voice was so soft, he could barely hear himself, and he looked away nervously. "I've touched myself… there."

Sukuna was still for a moment before a sudden laugh pulled Megumi's gaze back to him.

"Oh sweetheart," Sukuna teased him. "Such a good boy, I like it when you tell me the truth."

The praise washed over Megumi, and he stopped pretending he hated it. He blushed and almost started to smile before those fingers found his clit and started moving in soft, little circles, making his head fall back with a gasp.

"But I wasn't asking about you, sweetheart," Sukuna's breath ghosted over him again, teasing. "I'm asking about other men. Has anyone else ever touched you here? Before tonight?"

Megumi shook his head quickly, desperately. "No. No one. Never."

Sukuna's smirk showed teeth. "Good."

The first touch of tongue was electric, making Megumi's whole body arch off the bed, a cry tearing from his throat. He'd touched himself before, yes, but that was nothing like this; it was something new and he wanted to relax and enjoy it but every movement was making his body tense up.

Sukuna's tongue parted him easily, sliding through his slick folds, circling his clit as his hands pressed down on Megumi's thighs, holding him open, holding him still. Megumi couldn't move even if he wanted to, he was pinned, completely at Sukuna's mercy, and he wasn't going to start showing that now.

He licked into Megumi like he had all the time in the world, slow and deep and thorough. His tongue found every sensitive spot, cataloged every reaction, learned Megumi's body with him. He couldn't stop the sounds coming out of his mouth, whimpers and moans and broken gasps. His hands found Sukuna's hair without his permission, fingers tangling in the pink strands, not pushing or pulling, just holding on. He was going to come, he could feel it, the wave about to break.

Except Sukuna stopped. He pulled his mouth away, lifted his head, and looked up at Megumi with dark, knowing eyes.

Megumi whimpered a desperate, broken sound, his hips rolling forward, chasing Sukuna's mouth, but Sukuna's hands held him down.

"Not yet, sweetheart," Sukuna said, his lips glistening. "I told you: you don't get to come until I say so."

Megumi's chest heaved, his whole body was trembling, oversensitive and aching and completely undone as Sukuna smiled, slow and satisfied.

"Now," he said, lowering his head again. "Let's try that again, and this time, you're going to ask me nicely."

His tongue touched Megumi's clit, just a flick, barely there, and Megumi reacted like he had been hit.

"Please," Megumi gasped, the word falling out of him like a prayer. "Please, please, I —"

"Please what, sweetheart?" Sukuna's tongue dragged against him again, lighter this time, barely a tease. "Use your words."

Megumi's hips bucked, his hands knotting in Sukuna's hair, pulling without meaning to. "Please make me come, Sukuna. Please."

Sukuna's eyes gleamed up at him, dark and satisfied. "Good boy."

His mouth was on Megumi again, not teasing this time, his tongue pressed flat against Megumi's clit and moved in broad, wet circles, and his fingers — when had his fingers joined in? — slid through Megumi's slickness, pressing at his entrance, not entering, just teasing the edges.

Megumi's back arched off the bed, his thighs trembled around Sukuna's face, the sounds coming out of him high and broken and desperate.

"S-Sukuna, I'm gonna —"

It crashed over him like a wave, his whole body seizing, his spine bowing, his mouth open in a silent scream. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. Nothing had ever felt like this. The few times he'd touched himself, alone in his dark room, had been fumbling and quick and barely satisfying. This was — this was —

He couldn't find words for it. His mind had dissolved, washed away by the pleasure pulsing through him in waves, rippling outward from his center to his fingertips, his toes, the roots of his hair.

When he finally came back to himself, he felt raw and exposed and amazing. Sukuna was sitting up now, still between Megumi's thighs, looking down at him with an expression Megumi couldn't read. His mouth was wet, his dark hair mussed where Megumi had grabbed it.

"Look at you," Sukuna said softly. "So beautiful when you beg."

Megumi couldn't answer, his whole body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together wrong. Sukuna leaned down and pressed a kiss to Megumi's stomach, soft, almost tender. But maybe Sukuna didn't need him to answer. He sighed and leaned back against the bed, fully relaxed.

"We're just getting started, sweetheart," he murmured against Megumi's skin.

His eyes opened to stare at the ceiling, remembering suddenly why he was there and what was about to happen. Somehow, he had forgotten for a moment. He'd said he could handle anything, but he wasn't sure anymore if that was true.

Sukuna stood, the bed shifting as his weight left it, and Megumi blinked up at him from where he lay sprawled across the silk sheets, naked, tear-stained, and trembling. The city lights painted Sukuna's silhouette in gold and shadow, and Megumi watched, breath held, as Sukuna began to undress.

His fingers moved slowly, his eyes on Megumi's, loosening the knot with practiced ease. The red silk slid through his collar and pooled in his hand, a slash of blood against his palm. He held Megumi's gaze as he let it fall.

Sukuna unbuttoned his shirt slowly, starting at the collar and working his way down. Each button revealed another inch of skin — the hollow of his throat, the hard plane of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall, and Megumi forgot how to breathe.

The skin of Sukuna's chest was covered in tattoos; black and red, bold and intricate, winding across his torso like something alive. They were beautiful, dark and violent and somehow perfect on him.

Megumi couldn't help but stare, his eyes tracing the lines of a tiger stalking across Sukuna's stomach, the red flowers blooming between its teeth. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch, to trace the ink, to feel the heat of skin beneath.

He barely registered the sound of Sukuna's pants hitting the floor.

The mattress dipped under his weight as Sukuna moved towards him. He didn't loom over Megumi the way he expected, didn't pin him down or grab him or demand he bend over. He settled beside him, propped on one elbow, and looked down at him with eyes that had gone unexpectedly soft.

His hand came up to Megumi's face, surprisingly gentle. Cupping his cheek like something precious, and Megumi looked away, his face warming, suddenly more nervous than he was before.

"Look at me," Sukuna said quietly.

Peering up through his eyelashes, Megumi did as he was told.

"I need to ask you something," Sukuna said, his thumb brushing over Megumi's cheekbone. "And I want the truth, not just what you think I want to hear."

Megumi nodded; his skin still stung from before, he knew better than to lie now. Sukuna's eyes searched his face for a long moment before he spoke.

"Do you want this?" Sukuna asked simply. "It's okay if you just want the money, it wouldn't make you a bad person. And it definitely isn't going to make me stop, unless you change your mind and want to leave. I just want to know."

He was giving Megumi an out, a last chance to bail before they crossed that last line that he couldn't come back from. Megumi looked at him, at the tattoos curling across his chest, at the softness in his dark eyes, and thought about the whole night. The way Sukuna had bitten him, spanked him, forced him to tell the truth… but also the way he'd also talked to him gently afterward, praised him, wiped his tears.

Even when it hurt, even when it was too much, Megumi had never felt like Sukuna would really hurt him. And even when he was scared, he still found himself having fun. He was learning a lot about himself tonight.

And truthfully, Megumi could have gone home with anyone tonight, and if he had, he was sure he would have lost his virginity by now with someone that hadn't even realized he was one.

Slowly, Megumi lifted his own hand and covered Sukuna's where it rested against his cheek. His fingers were still trembling, but his voice, when it came, was steadier than he expected.

"I want this," Megumi said. "Not just the money. I want —" He swallowed, his throat tight. "I want it to be you."

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly, just a fraction, but enough to notice, and Megumi turned his face slightly, pressing a kiss to Sukuna's palm. The skin was warm and calloused against his cheek.

For a long moment, Sukuna didn't move, he just looked at Megumi with an expression that Megumi couldn't quite read, something raw and unguarded, there and gone before he could name it. Then Sukuna leaned down and kissed him. Sukuna's lips were soft against his, his tongue gentle when it swept into Megumi's mouth. He kissed Megumi like he wanted to savor it, like Megumi was something to be cherished rather than consumed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against Megumi's.

"Thank you," Sukuna said quietly. "For telling me the truth."

He shifted, moving over Megumi, settling between his thighs as he pushed them open. His body was hot and heavy above him, the tattoos blurring in Megumi's peripheral vision. He could feel everything—the brush of Sukuna's chest hair against his nipples, the solid weight of Sukuna's hips pressing his legs apart, the thick heat of Sukuna's erection nudging against his inner thigh through his boxers.

Leaning down, Sukuna pressed a soft kiss to his lips, something light and grounding before lifting up to rest his forehead against Megumi's, looking at him for a moment. Gently, Sukuna guided each of Megumi's hands to his shoulders, and he clung to them to keep them from shaking.

This was it. He had said it to himself a few times now, but this time, it really was. He was nervous and maybe a little scared, but not as much as he was before. Taking a deep breath, he nodded once, and Sukuna reached down between them to lower the fabric of his boxers out of the way. Megumi felt him line himself up, the blunt pressure at his entrance, and his fingers naturally dug a little deeper into the skin of Sukuna's shoulders.

"Don't look away," Sukuna said.

His heart was pounding so hard, he was sure Sukuna could hear it. He wanted to close his eyes and hide. Sukuna held his gaze, dark and steady, as he began to push inside.

Megumi kept his eyes open. Sukuna's gaze was locked on his, dark and steady, and Megumi wanted to be brave, wanted to prove he could do this, wanted to be good.

The pressure built as Sukuna pushed forward, a blunt, insistent stretch that was nothing like the fingers from before. Megumi's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hands curled against Sukuna's shoulders, nails pressing into ink-darkened skin. The stretch burned, not the bright sting of a spank or the sharp ache of a bite, but a deep, spreading heat that seemed to radiate outward from his core.

He tried to keep his eyes open, he really did. But then Sukuna passed a certain point, and the sharp burn flared into something too intense to bear. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open, and a sound escaped him, something between a gasp and a whimper, high and thin in the quiet room.

"That's it," Sukuna murmured above him, their noses touching. His voice was low, rougher than before, but still steady, still in control. "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe. You can do it."

Megumi did as he was told, he sucked in air through his open mouth, his chest heaving, the burn between his legs calming as Sukuna stilled.

"Good boy," Sukuna said, and the praise washed over Megumi like warm water. "You're doing so well. Just breathe through it."

Megumi's eyes fluttered open, half-lidded. Sukuna's face was close enough that Megumi could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his jaw was set with concentration. He was holding himself still, Megumi realized. Waiting, giving Megumi time.

"Sukuna," Megumi whispered, not sure what he was asking for.

"I know," Sukuna said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Megumi's mouth. "I know. You're okay, I've got you."

He shifted slightly, and Megumi felt it, the movement inside him, the way Sukuna's body was pressed into his. He wasn't sure how Sukuna could possibly go any deeper, but he could feel that he wasn't all the way in yet.

"I'm going to keep going," Sukuna said. "You tell me if it's too much. You tell me to stop, and I'll stop. Understand?"

Megumi nodded, his throat too tight for words.

"Words, sweetheart."

"Yes," Megumi managed, his voice cracking on the word.

Sukuna kissed him again, full on the mouth this time, slow and deep. His tongue swept in, tasting Megumi's gasps, and while Megumi was distracted by the kiss, Sukuna pushed forward.

The burn flared again, and Megumi whimpered into Sukuna's mouth. His legs, still spread wide around Sukuna's hips, tried to close, a reflexive, desperate attempt to protect himself from the intrusion, but Sukuna's body was in the way. There was nowhere for Megumi to go, no way to escape the feeling of being stretched open. He could only take it and wait for it to be over.

Sukuna pulled back from the kiss, and Megumi gasped for air. His eyes were wet again, tears leaking from the corners, slipping down into his hair. He hadn't even noticed he was crying.

"So good," Sukuna said softly. His thumb brushed one of the tears away. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart."

He shifted his hips slightly, and Megumi felt the stretch change, felt himself opening around Sukuna's girth, felt muscles he didn't know he had giving way. The burn was still there, but it was different now, still intense, still overwhelming, but somehow... less sharp. Less like pain and more like pressure.

He leaned down and kissed Megumi's forehead, the bridge of his nose, the tear tracks on his cheeks. Each kiss was gentle, and they made the tightness in Megumi's chest ease just a fraction.

"You're so beautiful like this," Sukuna murmured against his skin. "All spread open for me, taking everything I give you. Do you know how long I've wanted someone like you?"

Megumi said nothing; he didn't understand, Sukuna could have anyone. Anyone. Why would he want a scared, lying virgin who cried every time he was touched?

"Someone real," Sukuna said, answering a question Megumi hadn't asked. "Someone who feels everything instead of putting on a show." He kissed the corner of Megumi's mouth again. "You needed a little help getting there, but you're perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect."

Another shift of his hips, and Megumi's breath caught, his body trembling, but the praise wrapped around him like a blanket. He wasn't doing this for nothing; Sukuna saw him, Sukuna wanted him. Not the persona he'd tried to perform, not the sultry fake he'd practiced in the mirror. Just Megumi, scared and shaking and crying and taking it anyway.

The drag of him inside Megumi was indescribable, every nerve in his body was focused on that single point of connection, the place where Sukuna filled him and stretched him and made him feel completely claimed.

The rhythm was slow, giving Megumi time to adjust to each new sensation. The burn was still there, but it was fading, replaced by something else that made Megumi's breath catch for a different reason, his head tipping back against the pillow.

"There," Sukuna said, noticing the change in Megumi's expression. "There it is. You feel that?"

There was a spark of pleasure buried beneath the stretch, small but unmistakable. Sukuna had brushed against something inside him, some spot that sent a jolt of heat through his belly. He felt his eyes go wide as he looked at Sukuna who was staring back at him with deeply satisfied smile.

He shifted the angle of his hips and pushed forward again, and this time the spark ignited into something brighter, making Megumi's back arched off the bed, a moan tearing from his throat.

"That's it," Sukuna breathed. His forehead pressed against Megumi's, their breath mingling. "There's my good boy."

Each thrust pushed Sukuna deeper, filled Megumi more completely, and each one brought that spark of pleasure, building and building. Megumi's hands slid from Sukuna's shoulders to his face, cupping his jaw, feeling the stubble rough against his palms. He wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel Sukuna's mouth on his, wanted to swallow the sounds Sukuna was making.

Sukuna met him halfway, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was messy and desperate and perfect.

And when Sukuna finally bottomed out, when Megumi could feel the press of Sukuna's hips against his ass, could feel every inch of him buried deep, Megumi cried out into Sukuna's mouth.

The rhythm changed then; gone was the slow, careful tenderness, and in its place was something rougher, harder, Sukuna fucking into him in a way that pushed Megumi up the bed with each thrust. The headboard knocked against the wall, the silk sheets bunched beneath Megumi's shoulders, and all Megumi could do was hold on.

Sukuna was looking at him with an intensity that bordered on manic. his dark eyes were wild, almost unseeing, fixed on Megumi's face like he was trying to consume him through sight alone.

This wasn't just sex anymore, Sukuna was claiming him. doing something primal and ancient that made Megumi's instincts scream even as his body arched into each brutal thrust.

"Look at you," Sukuna growled, his voice wrecked. "Look at what you do to me."

Then a hand went to his throat. Automatically, Megumi grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly. For a moment, Sukuna slowed down.

"Let me," Sukuna said softly.

Without thinking, Megumi's hands loosened, just a fraction.

"Do you trust me?" Sukuna's voice was rough, barely controlled.

Megumi looked up at him, at the tattoos on his chest, heaving with each breath, at the wildness in his eyes, at the hand around his throat, holding him at the mercy of a man who could crush him without effort.

Instead of answering, he let go. His hands fell away from Sukuna's wrist, dropping onto the pillow on either side of his head, palms up, fingers loose, an open offering.

A sound tore from Sukuna's chest, and his hand tightened on Megumi's throat again, harder than before, cutting off Megumi's air completely. A spike of fear flared in his mind, but he didn't move, hands staying where they were as every inch of Sukuna's cock slammed into him.

"Perfect," Sukuna hissed. "You're fucking perfect."

Megumi's vision started to gray at the edges. The lack of oxygen made everything feel distant and dreamlike. Colors softened, sounds muffled, the world narrowed to the point of contact between them, to Sukuna's eyes boring into his, to the single point of pleasure building low in his belly.

He knew he should be scared, but all he felt was warmth, spreading through his limbs like honey. Sukuna's rhythm faltered, his breath coming harder, and Megumi realized Sukuna was close.

"You're doing so good," Sukuna panted, his voice barely recognizable. "Just a little more, sweetheart. Just a little more."

It snuck up on him; he was so enraptured by Sukuna, the he didn't notice it until his body clenched around the man, drawing a broken noise from above him.

"There you are," he said. "There you are. Come for me, sweetheart. Now."

His hand released Megumi's throat.

The rush of air was explosive, and Megumi sucked in a heaving gasp, his lungs burning, and that sudden flood of oxygen crashed over him like a wave. The gray at the edges of his vision burst into white as his body locked up, every muscle seizing at once, his back bowing off the bed, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

Megumi surrendered to it, the loss of control of his body. It didn't belong to him anymore, so there was no need to try.

His body convulsed, clenching around Sukuna's cock in pulsing waves, and he felt Sukuna's hips slam forward one last time as he went rigid, felt the hot flood of him spilling deep inside. Sukuna finished with a rough sound, his face buried in the crook of Megumi's neck, his body tense for a moment longer before going lax.

They came together, their bodies locked in a rhythm, two people holding on to each other as the world dissolved around them. As everything went dark around him, a deep sense of security filled him. All of the feelings from before faded until all he felt was safe.

The first drag of the cigarette was always the best.

Sukuna leaned back against the headboard, the smoke curling up from his lips toward the dark ceiling. The bedroom was quiet now; no music, no gasps, no wet sounds of skin on skin, just the soft, steady rhythm of Megumis breathing.

The boy was asleep. Sukuna turned his head slightly, watching him. Megumi had curled onto his side, one hand tucked under his cheek like a child. The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing the curve of his shoulder, the marks Sukuna had left on his neck, the slow rise and fall of his chest.

His face was peaceful. All the tension, all the fear, all the desperate begging from before was gone. In sleep, he looked even younger, somehow even more innocent in a way that made Sukuna's chest feel strange.

He took another drag and let the smoke out slowly.

To say this night was unexpected was an understatement; Sukuna hadn't planned on bringing anyone home, he'd gone to the lounge to think and smoke, to get away from the endless noise of his business.

But then he saw Megumi.

Noticed him the moment he walked in, actually. That red dress, that nervous but determined set of his shoulders, the way he'd perched on the barstool like he was trying to remember how to sit. Sukuna had watched him from the shadows, half-curious, half-amused. Another pretty thing trying to sell what he didn't understand the value of. And then he thought… he could use a break. A pretty little distraction from his work, just for the night.

Sukuna hadn't expected much: a quick transaction, a few hours of fun, someone warm and willing to help him forget the weight of his life for a little while.

But then the boy had opened his mouth.

The lies had been obvious from the start; inexperienced, clumsy, desperate to be believed. Sukuna had caught them all. It had been almost endearing. But it wasn't until Sukuna had touched him on the couch — really touched him, his fingers finding that slick heat between his legs — that he'd started to suspect the truth.

The sensitivity, the way Megumi's whole body had jerked at the lightest touch, gasping too loudly, blushing too easily, like no one had ever put their hands there before.

Sukuna had almost laughed when he realized. A virgin, walking into a lounge full of wolves, wearing a dress that barely covered his ass, trying to sell himself to the highest bidder. It was either the stupidest thing Sukuna had ever seen or the bravest. Maybe both.

Sukuna took another drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing orange in the darkness.

For a moment, he had considered giving the kid half the money and telling him to leave. It would have been the kinder thing to do, send him home before things went too far. Let him keep whatever was left of his innocence.

But then Megumi had started begging, not for money, but for a chance. Please, don't send me away, please, I need this, I'll do anything.

And those tears. Pretty, pretty tears, sliding down those pink cheeks, catching the light like little diamonds. Wide, innocent green eyes that were so honest and scared and needy.

Sukuna had never claimed to be a good person.

He'd wanted to see more of those tears, wanted to be the reason for them. Wanted to hold the boy down and make him cry until he couldn't remember his own name.

So he'd kept him. Used him. And now it was over. Soon, it would be time to say good by to this pretty little distraction…

Sukuna looked down at Megumi's sleeping face. The tear tracks were still visible on his cheeks, faint silver lines in the moonlight. His lips were parted slightly, soft and pink. His dark lashes fanned against his skin.

Megumi. He had heard a lot of fake names over the years, people who thought they could hide behind a different sound. If it weren't for Sukuna's ability to read people, to see past the masks and the lies and the performances, he might have thought it was fake, might have assumed this whole night was an act, a transaction, nothing more.

But Megumi was real. It was so rare for Sukuna, meeting someone like him.

He took one last drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. The room was dim and quiet, the city lights still glittering beyond the windows. Sukuna reached out and brushed a strand of dark hair from Megumi's forehead. The boy didn't stir, just sighed in his sleep, a soft, contented sound, and pressed his face deeper into the pillow.

There was a mark on his throat, another on his shoulder, bruises blooming on his inner thighs. Sukuna's marks. Sukuna's claim.

No one else would touch him tonight. No one else would see him like this, soft and open and vulnerable, curled up in Sukuna's bed, wearing nothing but Sukuna's scent on his skin. But after tonight… would others try and see him like this? Would they try and take Megumi for themselves?

Sukuna pulled the blanket up higher, covering Megumi's bare shoulder, tucking it around him. No, he couldn't let anyone else see what was his.

The phone vibrated against the nightstand.

Sukuna's hand moved before the second buzz, snatching it up, thumb already pressing the volume key to silence it. He glanced at Megumi, still asleep, still breathing soft and slow, those dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.

Carefully, Sukuna slid out of bed as quietly as he could, padding across the cool floor to the window in nothing but his boxers. The city glittered below as he answered the call.

"Talk."

"We have a problem, Sir," Uraume's voice was calm as always, but Sukuna had known them long enough to hear the tension underneath. "The shipment from the port has been intercepted. Police raid, but it wasn't random. Someone tipped them off."

Sukuna closed his eyes.

Of course it was tonight. Of course the one night he'd allowed himself to step away, to breathe, to take something for himself, the world had to come crashing back in.

"How bad?"

"Half the product seized, three of our men are in custody. The leak hasn't been identified yet, but we have three suspects."

Sukuna's jaw tightened. Someone in his organization was selling him out, and now he had to find out who.

"I'll be right over," he said.

He ended the call and stood there for a moment, phone in hand, staring out at the city. The reflection in the glass showed him his own face, hard, cold, the face his enemies saw before they died. The face he put on when he walked into a room full of people who feared him.

Sukuna turned and looked at Megumi, watching him take two more breaths, seeing the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly with each exhale.

He didn't want to leave.

The realization was inconvenient; he had a business to run, a leak to find, people to punish. He didn't have time to stand here watching a sleeping boy.

And yet…

Sukuna crossed to his closet and began to dress. Black suit, black shirt, black shoes, the uniform of his life. He strapped on his shoulder holster, checked the magazine in his gun, and slipped it into place. The weight was familiar, grounding.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on it, and Megumi shifted slightly, but didn't wake. Sukuna looked down at him, at the bruises he'd left and the innocence he'd taken, and he realized he wasn't ready to say goodbye.

So he got an idea.

Softly, Sukuna ran his fingers through Megumi's hair. the dark strands slipping through his fingers like silk, soft and cool.

"Sweetheart," he said quietly. "Wake up."

Megumi stirred, his nose wrinkling slightly before his eyes opened.

Green eyes, sleepy and soft, still blurred with dreams, blinked up at him. Almost took his breath away.

"Hey," Megumi murmured, his voice sleep-rough, barely a whisper. He smiled and stretched, catlike, his arms reaching above his head, his spine arching before he winced from obvious soreness. The movement revealed more bruises, more marks, the evidence of everything they'd done.

Sukuna wanted to take him apart again. Instead, he took a grounding breath, and spoke softly.

"Hey, sweetheart, I have to go take care of something for work."

A soft frown formed over that beautiful face.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

The opposite, Sukuna thought. I want to tie you to this bed and never let you go.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, so I'm going to leave the cash on the dresser for you. You can go whenever you want. But if you're still here when I get back..."

Sukuna paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

"I'll double it again."

Seeing Megumi's eyes go wide was quickly becoming a favorite of his. The way those green eyes rounded, the way his lips parted, the way his whole face went soft with surprise. There was no pretending with that face, no performing. Just pure, unfiltered shock.

It was probably more money than he had ever seen, let alone held. Sukuna liked how easy he was to impress.

"Yes," Megumi said, quick and eager, nodding before Sukuna had even finished offering. "I'll stay, I'll be here when you get back."

Sukuna smirked. "Good boy."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Megumi's forehead. The skin was warm, soft, and Megumi sighed against him, a tiny sound of contentment.

"Go back to sleep," Sukuna murmured against his skin.

He started to pull away.

"Sukuna?"

The voice was shy, hesitant, making Sukuna pause as he looked down at Megumi.

"Can I…" Megumi's cheeks flushed pink. "Could I have a real kiss? Before you go?"

Sukuna was going to lose it over this kid.

Megumi's lips parted under his, soft and yielding, and he made a small, pleased sound that Sukuna felt more than heard. It went on much longer than was wise, and when he finally pulled back, Megumi's eyes were still closed, his lips slightly swollen, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

Sukuna wanted to stay.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Walking to the dresser, he pulled a thick envelope from one of the locked drawers — more than double what he'd promised, actually, because the boy had earned every cent, and he wanted to fantasize later about those eyes going wide again when he realized — and set it down. Then he crossed to the door, not looking back, because if he did he would never leave.

His car was waiting in the underground garage, engine running, driver holding the door. Sukuna slid into the back seat and the city began to blur past the tinted windows. But his mind wasn't on the shipment, or the leak, or even the men he was going to have to hurt before sunrise.

His mind was on Megumi. Lying in his bed, soft and defenseless, wrapped in sheets that smelled like Sukuna. Waiting for him, trusting him to come back.

Someone had betrayed him, had jeopardized all he had worked towards, but worst of all, someone had pulled him away from that bed. They forced him to leave while Megumi was still warm and sleepy and asking for real kisses.

Sukuna smiled in the darkness of the car. Whoever it was, he was going to make sure they had a very, very painful death.