Chapter Text
The flick of the leather paddle against the back of his thigh did little to stir heat within Sukuna’s stomach. It was nothing more than an irritation he wanted to snatch up and crush between his palms. He’d needed this to unwind from one hell of an awful week that almost lost them a crucial sale because some idiot forgot how to count. He’d been looking forward to this, the tension running high underneath his skin desperate for an outlet.
To say he was disappointed was an understatement.
Soft fingers trailed over his skin, their intention to drive his nerves wild with feather light touches falling flat. All it did was stir the annoyance deeper within him. It irked him. He’d played his part, gotten onto his knees and let them try to will his cock to full hardness, let him try to become excited by each expectant snap of that paddle against his skin.
But he couldn’t do it. His body couldn’t comply with his wishes to just let go and it had taken him almost twenty minutes to realise why he was disappointed. This dom was the same as the last one Sukuna had tried, and the one before that, and the one before that. They all had come highly recommended with raving reviews, and yet each one was far too eager to see him on his knees, bend him over, and try to establish some kind of easy dominance with no real heat behind their words. They were soft. Their voices may have tried to be cruel and domineering but their faces were on the wrong side of kind.
He’d tried, oh he’d tried to enjoy it. Imagined his favourite type of person in his mind, imagined somebody else pressing at his sensitive spots, stroking his cock, and tipping his chin up with firm fingers. But it did little to cover the reality when he opened his eyes.
He wanted somebody unafraid to rip him apart. He wanted somebody to dance along that edge of too much, somebody to make him question his own limits, his own needs, somebody to really make him question what he was capable of.
There were only so many times Sukuna could get his ass spanked within the first twenty minutes of a session before he grew bored and tiresome of it. Only so many times he could predict the way the paddle would start light, grow heavier, and work its way down his thigh before it crept back up to his ass to try to colour his skin red.
“Stop,” he said, voice low and quiet, full of nothing but regret.
The paddle held still against his bruised ass and the weight of this dom’s eyes fell across his shoulders. A soft exhale of, “Too much?” left her lips, full of worry.
“No.” It wasn’t anything new . Sukuna pushed himself up and refused to look at her. He’d wasted enough time with this farce pretending that it could bring him some enjoyment and to top it off the rest of his evening would be spent wallowing in misery of having found another idiot who failed to live up to any kind of expectation. “We’re done.” There was a noise from her but again, Sukuna didn’t give her the courtesy of a glance. He simply reached for his discarded shirt, threaded his arms through the sleeves, snatched his boxers up and tugged them over his smarted skin.
He should’ve stopped it before it had even started. The moment he’d let her through his door he should’ve listened to his gut and shown her straight back out. But he’d desperately needed to try something, too wound up with a need to release some of that pent up tension that was knotting him in the worst ways. He’d argued with himself that at the very least he’d be able to get off before calling it quits.
But even that had been impossible.
The sound of things being thrown into a bag echoed in the suddenly quiet room. Sukuna let the noises fill his head as he buttoned his shirt back up, taking his sweet time. Was he being too picky in his needs? Or maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough to let the doms in? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d failed to fall into the head space simply because he didn’t like the way one of them had looked. They had been everything that his taste wasn’t and from that point on he’d clocked out to what he was supposed to be paying for. Maybe, he reasoned, everybody was far too eager to put a man his size on his knees.
He got that. He really did.
At a glance he was the kind of guy people assumed to be a sadist, and not the nice kind either. He had black ink on his chin, underneath his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, across the back of his neck, and various other tattoos along his arms, legs, chest and back. One look at him and most people considered him trouble with a capital T. His attitude was horrific on his worst days and he had very little patience.
Most days, the people who thought the worst of him would be right. Most days Sukuna derived pleasure from sinking his teeth into somebody’s skin, leaving his marks in fingerprint bruises or aching muscles. He liked to leave behind an echo of his voice in his partner’s head, the ghost of his breath in their ears, and the lasting memory of his hands on their skin. But sometimes even he needed to let go of control. Sometimes he needed somebody to rip him apart and put him back together.
Sometimes he needed a break from the carefully orchestrated control he had on his life. For somebody else to make the demands and give him the orders.
What he needed was those to mean it when he offered them the chance.
“I take it this means I won’t see you again.”
Sukuna shook his head and rifled through his pants for his half empty packet of cigarettes. She’d had her chance and she’d bored him. If she turned up at his door for another session he’d tell her to take a hike and slam the door in her face. Being nice was not in Sukuna’s immediate personality. He’d seen too many people get themselves walked over for being too nice, even his baby brother had been a victim to such a crime and that had only irked Sukuna to no end. Harsh, cold truths, and cruelty had gotten him to where he was today; CEO of a multi million dollar corporation with a fancy penthouse suite, fancy cars, a personal assistant, a personal driver.
And a lonely bed.
He tapped a single cigarette from the packet, slid it between his lips, and lit the end with the lighter stored within the carton. The familiar and comforting taste of nicotine dulled his racing thoughts and helped to calm the irritation itching beneath his skin. It was a miracle he didn’t smoke a pack a day with the amount of stress that danced through him, both at work and in these situations. “You can keep the full payment,” Sukuna said before he took another drag on his cig.
“You paid for two hours and it’s barely been thirty minutes.”
Sukuna shrugged and finally glanced in her direction. She was pretty, beautiful, gorgeous . Absolutely model worthy. It wouldn’t surprise if she did walk the runways for her day job. She had the perfect figure for it and she was most definitely a fine woman anybody would be lucky to have in front of them. She had a natural grace that most people tried to awkwardly force and the wonderful tits she had certainly added to her appeal.
She was unquestionably Sukuna’s type; dark hair, pale skin, bright eyes, big chest. There’d even been a certain venom in her words when she’d turned up and started their little session. He wanted that venom, requested it with each new dom he tried. Everything had been going fine. Sukuna had stripped his pants off, tossed his shirt away, and fell to his knees. After that? Her tone shifted. The harshness dissipated and everything became routine to her. Whilst he’d hoped she’d at least pull it back when she finally acted, even that had failed him. The first strike of that paddle against his skin had come with a familiar set of words, “Are you going to be my good little slut?” and he’d mentally clocked out.
He hated those words, loathed them. Or variations of them. He’d heard every version of it and by now it did little to excite him. They had the opposite effect and had him losing interest in the blink of an eye.
“Consider it compensation or whatever.” He waved a dismissive hand towards the front door and turned away from her, “You know the way out. If you need a taxi my assistant, Uraume, can call one for you.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
He heard the disdain in her voice mixed with dejection. He didn’t care. It was her own fault for failing to live up to his expectation, for not being what he needed, for being the same as the rest of them. The sound of her feet padding away allowed him to relax his shoulders and let out a breath. He racked one hand through dark pink hair and huffed another drag of his cigarette.
One night was all he wanted.
One night to feel completely worked over, to be made vulnerable, ripped apart and torn to shreds. He’d been ready to feel the tears streaking his face, feel his eyes burn, and feel his throat choke out on stuttered gasps.
The sound of muffled voices filtered through the air and Sukuna tuned it out in favour of dragging himself to the armchair that faced the floor to ceiling window. The sky was dark, purple clouds obscuring the stars and the moon barely peeked out from behind fluffed up curtains. Even the shine of its surface seemed dull enough to match his mood and Sukuna let his gaze turn down to the ground below him, thin tendrils of smoke curling around him and keeping him company as he smoked away. Hundreds of people going home for the night or just starting theirs, unaware of his watchful gaze.
A door clicked shut and a new silence descended in his apartment. He relaxed further into his seat, tipped his head onto the back of the seat and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into wishful oblivion. Somebody should’ve known what they were doing by now. It was impossible to try so many people and come with failure after failure after failure.
“She’s gone and I’ve added her to your blacklist.”
Sukuna hummed at Uraume’s rapt report. What he would do without them he had no idea and he dreads to think. He’d probably be lost, still grasping for a managerial role somewhere along the way. Uraume had kept him organised, and in line, and they were especially great at knowing what to say when he needed to hear it.
“Do you wish to take a break from these kinds of activities or do you wish to try again?”
He snorted. Try again. He was always trying again and again, each time yielding the same result. “Like there’s any left in the local area.” How many dom’s had he tried? Dozens? Hundreds? He’d lost track but one thing was sure and that he didn’t want to have to travel to another city just to get his dick wet.
Uraume’s feet were quiet as they paced towards him, barely there, but they grabbed his attention when they came to a stop by his side. Sukuna cracked his eyes open, stared up into dark eyes framed by short white hair. Uraume lifted their hands up and showed him the tablet they were holding. “I was doing some research just in case,” they started.
Sukuna sat up in his seat, took the offered device with a frown, and shoved the butt of his cigarette between his lips to use both hands to look through the website. Chimera Shadow Gardens. A strange name with an obscure logo of a leaking black rose. He’d never heard of it before, which said something. He thought he’d scoured everything close by. “Where are they?” he demanded before he dared to venture further, his cigarette dancing between his lips with each word he spoke.
“Tokyo. Just a few miles away from the office in fact.”
He hummed and scrolled through the information available. It wasn’t a new club by any means, but it was very underground, with a large emphasis placed on the underground part. “Never heard of it.”
Out of the corner of his eye Uraume bowed, “It took some deep digging and the website doesn’t appear to be much, but from what reviews I could find, they all state that the head dom is well sought after.”
They were right, the website was shit. It looked like something somebody had mocked together themselves on a Friday night whilst nursing a bottle of beer. There was nothing fancy about it, nothing that screamed it was the place to be or that people were lining up to meet the dom. It didn’t seem that different to anything else he’d tried before, in fact it looked like the kind of thing he’d turn his nose up at if he happened across it. Yuuji could probably make a better website and he cooked for a living. The queries box was a basic template he recognised. There was an email address and no phone number, which struck him as strange. The few pictures that the site did have showed nothing more than a series of equipment. No staff pictures, no images of the actual building, a few shaky images of a barren room. It didn’t strike him as impressive.
“What’s her name?”
“They didn’t give me his name.”
“Him,” Sukuna echoed and he tilted his head to one side to work out a kink in his neck. It had been a while since he’d tried a male dom. He didn’t have anything against them, it’s just that they weren’t the easiest to find, very few men ventured into that side of the business, and the ones he had met were usually bulked up with muscles. He could still recall the testament of strength one of them had tried to force on him before Sukuna had flipped and physically kicked him out.
Uraume hummed, “He likes to introduce himself when he meets his clients for the first time. They do hold shows every Tuesday night but there’s no guarantee of who will be on the main stage. Apparently they have four doms currently employed with them.”
“Small business,” he muttered to himself and he held the tablet back out to Uraume. The website wasn’t giving him anything else. There weren’t even any names of any staff members, just a couple of pages about what services they offered and some client testimonials. Not even the reviews mentioned anything about having a consistent dom or that he was better than the rest. We have various staff members available to suit any and all of our customer’s needs.
As much as Sukuna’s stomach craved something , as much as itched for a set of hands on him, for his knees to grow numb, his muscles to tremble, he wasn’t sure he was eager enough to try again so soon. Maybe he’d bring home a few one night stands, get some frustrations out of his system that way and then consider it. Maybe he’d even bring home two dates in one night. Threesomes were always fun and had helped him to forget a lot of heavy burdens.
“Somebody cancelled on him for a home visit two days from now. Luckily he agreed to fit you in on such short notice.”
Sukuna’s head snapped up. “I didn’t ask-”
“You need it.”
He clamped his mouth shut at the firm statement, burning red eyes fixed on Uraume’s calm expression. They didn’t budge at his outrage and he curled his lips into a snarl. There was a grateful lurch in his stomach and Sukuna ignored it in favour of snapping his attention back to the window, a glare creasing every feature of his face.
“I’ll bring you a drink then take my leave.”
He barely grunted at Uraume’s own dismissal. It wasn’t like they had far to go. The floor beneath Sukuna’s had been purchased for whoever had filled the personal assistant role to make his life easier. There wasn’t any rent to pay on it and all Sukuna asked for was enough to cover the yearly building maintenance fees, everything else was paid for. That was the upside to fulfilling the role and having to work the extended hours Sukuna asked for, a cheap as shit entire floor apartment where they were free to do whatever they wanted.
Uraume was the third assistant he’d had and hopefully his last. They certainly didn’t care for his crappy attitude. Maybe that was why they’d lasted the longest. Uraume had no issues calling Sukuna on his shit, no problems with talking back to him and telling him when it was too much. Blunt honesty that always took him off guard. They came back with a tumbler of whiskey, settled it into his hand, and bowed once more before they took their leave.
In the new silence of his apartment, Sukuna groaned and threw back half of his drink. He stretched out, snatched the cigarette from his lips, settled both hands onto the arms of the chair he was in, and stared at the dark evening sky. He rocked the base of the tumbler across the edge of the seat, mindlessly thinking over the little information he had whilst he tapped the butt of his cig against the other arm.
Two days.
Fine.
He would give them a shot. Just one shot. If this didn’t work out, if whoever this mystery dom was couldn’t blow his mind in the first five minutes then Sukuna was showing him the door. He was done giving them time, done giving them a chance to prove themselves. He was tired and his body deserved a break from trying.
He let out another breath and tried to ignore the waiting anxiety that started to simmer within him. Getting his hopes up had failed him more than once and he struggled to bat those feelings back down. Instead he lifted his cigarette to his lips and inhaled sharply, finishing it off and willing the nicotine to ease the final webs of tension that lingered within him. He dropped the stub into his drink and left the glass on the arm of his chair as he stood up. That was a problem for tomorrow. The kitchen was too far and he dragged himself to the en suite bathroom to finally clean himself up.
Under the hot spray of the water, Sukuna pressed one hand to the slick tiles and trailed his other down his stomach, over chiselled muscles, and traced his length with his fingertips. He danced his fingers over the head and curled them underneath to brush over the frenum piercing. A soft moan left his lips as he pressed on the metal bar, adding a hint of pressure to his cock before he moved his fingers further down his length and prodded at the lorum piercing that decorated the base of his cock. Small waves of pleasure started to roll through him and Sukuna decided to hell with it, he needed something good tonight.
He wrapped his hand around his cock and wasted no time in jerking himself off, his fingers catching both piercings with each drag of his hand. His only goal was to splatter the tiles in his come and he fucked his fist, chasing that quick release.
The brief relief did just enough to satiate Sukuna long enough to towel dry himself, grab a fresh pair of boxers, climb into bed and pass out.
In the two days that passed, Uraume had received several forms from Chimera Shadow Gardens that she had passed onto Sukuna to read, sign, and send back. In the forms was a terms and conditions guide, a basic breakdown of what system his dom used, a leaflet detailing that the first session was for them both to get a feel for each other, to see if they could work well with one another, it didn’t guarantee a continued contract, and a blank sheet in which they asked what Sukuna’s limits were and what he was okay with handling in the first meeting.
He’d filled them all in, signed them, and sent them back asking if there was any special equipment he would need. Some dom’s had very specific needs and requests in order to fulfil a scene. He’d heard some strange requests over the years.
The few requests that did come back were nothing too surprising; Sukuna dressed in comfortable clothes, be it slacks, jeans, sweats or something else, a few towels on standby for clean up purposes, water within easy access, an open, two hours of uninterrupted time, and that there was at least one wooden chair light enough to be moved around with ease. It was all pretty basic stuff and nothing that screamed out to Sukuna that this dom was anything special. Or maybe the guy was confident in his abilities and didn’t need anything exceptional to blow Sukuna’s mind. Perhaps the guy was good enough with just his hands, or thought he was.
Sukuna snorted and shook his head. It didn’t mean anything. Whether the guy used nothing or everything he owned, it meant nothing until he actually performed.
Accommodating the requests was easy enough. Sukuna’s living room was the perfect place. All he had to do was move the coffee table back against the wall and then the room was pretty much empty. Throw in a couple of towels and water bottles on one end of his couch and everything was ready to go.
Once he’d taken his final phone call at work, sent his last email, and sent the last bit of paperwork for filing, he’d had his driver take him home immediately. Uraume had confirmed that there was approximately one hour before he was due his visitor and Sukuna had offered to pay Uraume to have a night away from the place. All they had to do was name the hotel and he would pay for it if they didn’t want to be around with the knowledge of what was going on one floor above them. They turned down his offer with a short bow, telling him that the floors were sound proof, they’d never heard a thing before, and they weren’t fazed by the idea of what would happen later that night.
As he waited, Sukuna tried to keep his nerves calm, tried to keep his excited anxiety at bay. He didn’t need to get his hopes up, didn’t need to imagine this would go any better than any other session he’d had with other dom’s before. He didn’t even have a name for the guy, or knew what he looked like. For all he knew he’d open the door, hate what he saw, and send the guy away with fresh disappointment making a home in his discouraged mind. He clung to that doubt, harboured it and used it to stop himself from getting too attached to any idea that he might finally be able to relax.
His next cigarette helped to ease his nerves and he closed his eyes at the familiar taste of nicotine that slid into his lungs. It was a stupid habit he’d picked up in his teenage years from hanging out with the wrong people and now he was addicted to the soothing taste of it. He took a second drag when the doorbell rang and Sukuna stared in the general direction of the front door. He gave it a few moments, inhaled another mouthful of nicotine, and climbed to his feet.
The doorbell rang a second time and Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he marched across the room, crossed the threshold, and down the wide corridor that led to the front door. He peered through the eyepiece and stared at the head of dark, barely controlled hair. It almost resembled the worst bed head he’d ever seen despite how soft it also looked. The guy looked up and Sukuna was greeted with the greenest of greens he’d ever seen set within a pretty face.
A third ring of the bell had him sighing and reaching for the handle. It had barely been thirty seconds since the first ring and it was nice to know that the guy was impatient. The expression Sukuna was met with on the other side of the door was a scowl and Sukuna had to look down at the stranger. The almost black, navy suit he wore was tailor fitted to a slender frame that tapered at his hip, the darkness only helping to pale his skin even further.. An emerald tie sat snugly within the collar of a crisp white shirt and it almost matched those dark green eyes that pierced into Sukuna.
“You’re Sukuna.”
Sukuna arched one brow. It wasn’t a question, more of an affirmation and he nodded, stepping back to give the guy some room. There were no pleasantries, no extended hands for a greeting, just the marching of feet past Sukuna as though he owned the place, his head swinging left and right to give the place one quick sweeping glance. “And you are?” he said and he finally closed the door.
“Megumi.” Short. Curt. Simple. There was no room for anything else, no allowance of a question and Sukuna pursed his lips, something itching at him with the way Megumi spoke. His tone was low, firm, certain and confident. “Where are we setting up?”
Sukuna gestured to the living room, the chair Megumi had requested sitting off to one side. Now that Sukuna was next to him, he sized Megumi up, feeling his previous nerves slowly creeping back under his skin. He ticked some of Sukuna’s boxes; dark hair, pale skin, gorgeous eyes. He barely reached Sukuna’s shoulders and he looked a little on the thin side, but he carried himself with such confidence; his shoulders rolled back, chin up, that Sukuna almost wanted to believe that he knew what he was doing.
He also looked young. Sukuna didn’t miss that fact and he wondered how long Megumi had been out of school, desperate for money before he turned to this kind of job. Neither did Sukuna miss the fact that Megumi had a pretty face, one that most people would die for, if it wasn’t ladened up with a scowl or a glare as it was right now.
Megumi clicked his fingers and pointed to the couch that Sukuna had previously occupied, “Sit down.” His eyes cut across to Sukuna’s mouth where his cigarette hung and his glare narrowed. “And stub that out.” Megumi turned his glare to the room and under his breath muttered a low, “I hate cigarettes.”
Sukuna rolled his cigarette between his teeth with a frown, “I’m not a dog.”
Megumi didn’t look at him. Didn’t even offer him a noise. He simply looked about the space one more time and set his bag down to crouch over it, fingers already working the zipper open. “Move,” Megumi said, eyes still fixed on his bag.
Sukuna blew out a huff. Megumi had been here for all of ten seconds and he was already giving Sukuna orders like he was some kind of obedient dog. Yes, Sukuna did pay for some kind of command to be given to him, but he at least expected something more than just simple orders. He expected a proper introduction, for them to sit down and go over the basics, or some kind of discussion before they got started. Well two could play at that game. If Megumi was going to be rude then Sukuna could be just as rude back.
“You’re still standing there.”
Something warred within Sukuna. A part of him wanted to heft Megumi to his feet, march him to the door, shove him back out into the corridor, and tell him to piss off home before he slammed the door in his face. Another part of Sukuna however was rooted to that spot, red eyes fixed on Megumi’s crouched form, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Megumi’s tone was cold, bitter, uncaring, and unyielding, as if this was nothing more than a simple transaction. It was that part that made Sukuna give Megumi a try, that allowed Megumi to stay a little longer. When he’d filled his forms out he’d put on there that he wanted something mean and maybe this was a part of the act. Other dom’s had stumbled over their words when they’d realised Sukuna wasn’t some small, weak, and pathetic, whimpering guy who was desperate to get spanked. There was no hesitation with Megumi, no testing his words or pondering his thoughts.
Sukuna took one more drag of his cigarette, walked over to the kitchen and stubbed out the remains into an ashtray. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat on his couch as Megumi had instructed. There’d been no other instructions and when he glanced at Megumi he seemed to be pausing over something . Sukuna threw his arms over the back of the couch, slung one knee over the other, turned his attention forward, and drummed his fingers impatiently against the cushions.
The sound of a zipper filled the air and Sukuna tipped his head to one side to eye Megumi. The guy straightened up, one hand fisted tightly around a scrap of something dark, and stepped over to the chair he’d requested. Without uttering a word Megumi grabbed the top of the chair and dragged it across the wooden flooring, the legs scraping loudly along the surface, until he was in front of Sukuna. He twisted it on one leg, let the feet slam against the ground, and took a seat.
Megumi folded his arms over his chest, crossed his ankles, and finally looked at Sukuna with the full intensity of burning emeralds that made him stop drumming his fingers and straighten up in his seat.
Silence.
Sukuna ground his teeth together and waited, matching Megumi with his own ruby stare. He wasn’t a very patient person. Sitting around and waiting wasn’t in his vocabulary. “Well?” he said. Megumi blinked slowly and tilted his head up, eyes narrowing a fraction. Sukuna’s own stare turned sour and he shifted in his seat under the heavy weight of that stare, “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.” Megumi didn’t move or budge. He was resolute except for a single finger that tapped against a bicep. Sukuna’s eyes were drawn to it, watching it slowly lift and fall, the gentle tap the only noise to fill the space between them.
Tap.
Tap.
The closer he listened the more Sukuna noted a soft metallic tap that matched the timing of Megumi’s finger. His eye twitched on the next tap and he pressed his lips into a firm line as he felt the tap strike at his nerves.
Tap.
Tap.
If Sukuna had been interested and curious before, he was slowly becoming irritated now. No amount of beauty or gorgeous features could sate the growing itch that gnawed at him. He had a hundred things he could be doing, a mountain of paperwork that always needed tending, phone calls that he always needed to make, emails to send. He could be doing any of that but instead Megumi had him sitting here, staring at one another in complete and utter silence, doing absolutely nothing.
Sukuna sucked in a breath, let it out on a slow exhale through his nose and tightened the muscles of his jaw, his face souring. One more minute was all he was willing to give Megumi and Sukuna counted the seconds in his head. Megumi still only tapped away at his arm with that incessant finger and once Sukuna hit sixty in his head he leaned forward. He settled his elbows onto his knees, clasped his hands tightly, and fixed Megumi with a glare, “Listen, I’m not going to pay you to just sit there and stare. You’re here to do something. So do-”
Megumi tilted his head to one side, arched one brow, and stopped tapping his finger. Sukuna paused, unsure what the suddenly twisting knots of his stomach meant. The more he looked at Megumi the darker his expression became, jade eyes burning him with something vicious he hadn’t seen in a long time. Whatever words Sukuna had on the tip of his tongue disappeared and he tried his best to gather them up again.
The silence lingered between them and Sukuna couldn’t stop his huff. It was prickling his skin and making him crave any kind of response, any kind of answer or something . He reached for the knot of his tie and shook it loose as he climbed to his feet. By the time he’d gotten home, eaten, and sat down Megumi was only five minutes away and Sukuna had only hung his jacket up. He made a note to never find himself in a suit in this kind of situation again. “Fucking, pointless, waste of my time,” Sukuna huffed in a whisper as he started in the direction of the front door, ready to throw Megumi out.
“Sit down .”
Sukuna froze immediately at the deathly hollow words. Those two words were full of threat and promise at the same time, and tinted in disappointment. They were sharp and had the desired effect of snapping his spine straight and commanding his full attention with the way his heart jumped and the way they wriggled underneath his skin and burnt him with shame.
He’d only managed three steps before Megumi had barked out his order and when Sukuna turned on the balls of his feet to look back, Megumi was still staring at where Sukuna had been sitting. The only tell-tale sign of any emotion was the subtle digging of fingers into biceps and the deeper furrow of his brows.
When Sukuna hadn’t dared to move Megumi snapped his head around to face Sukuna, his face full of thunder that sent electricity shooting through him. “ Now .”
Sukuna swallowed. Fuck. What the hell was with that look? He half considered ignoring him, half considered turning his back on him. But a part of him, a primal, needy part, dragged him back to the couch and sat him down. Megumi’s eyes followed his every step and when Sukuna dared to look up again Megumi’s gaze had darkened considerably. There was a storm brewing in those jade eyes, an ugly storm that threatened to drown Sukuna and swallow him whole. Tear him apart in the worst way imaginable to leave him a ruined wreck of the man he used to be.
Heat flooded his stomach. It had been a long time since anybody had dared to look at him like that, since anybody had considered speaking to him like that. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been afraid to upset somebody.
A thin layer of sweat dampened the palms of his hands and Sukuna settled them onto his knees, fingers biting at the fabric of his pants. Megumi’s gaze was cold, calculating. Sizing him and stripping him apart.
The silence crept back in and Sukuna tried his best to sit still, he really did. Megumi stared him down through the silent seconds, firmly holding Sukuna’s attention without moving his lips. It unnerved Sukuna just a little and he wondered if this was it. If this was Megumi’s Dom . No tricks up his sleeves, no breaking down of inner walls and piecing somebody back together one small brick at a time. Just staring. Unnerving, unyielding, staring.
The seconds dragged into minutes and eventually Megumi moved.
Sukuna sucked in a breath and held it as Megumi stood, eyes fixed on him to see what the plan was, what his next move was. There was no dusting his pants down or smoothing the fabric of his shirt out. He simply climbed to his feet and turned, taking short, measured steps. He noticed that Megumi was graceful with each movement, his entire body flowing from one step to the next. Finally Megumi spoke, “Today is more of an assessment to see if we’ll get along. I’m not going to push your limits too much today. If things go well in this session, if we’re both happy to continue, then I’ll push you next time, and the time after that.”
Sukuna tracked his every step around one edge of the couch, his tongue heavy in his mouth and his throat dry, a simple nod tipping his head forward. There was so much sureness in every fibre of Megumi’s body, in the way his shoulders were rolled back, the way his back was straight, and the way he carried himself with each step, pulling himself up to appear taller than he really was.
Megumi studied him, scrutinised every part of him, before he nodded curtly and looked away. Sukuna let out a breath and struggled for another, unaware of how Megumi had stopped the air in the room in those few seconds. Green eyes snapped to him and Megumi stopped in his tracks on the periphery of Sukuna’s vision, “ Look forward .”
Sukuna didn’t think twice about the order. There was a slither of fear creeping into his muscles, an inch of wariness that had his muscles tensing, his skin prickling with goosebumps, his chest feeling heavy and his breathing sharp in his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been so amenable to a complete stranger and he tried to watch Megumi in the reflection of the switched off TV.
He watched Megumi’s vague outline slowly walk behind the couch and towards him, the faint tap of his shoes echoing in the charged air that was ready to ignite. The seconds ticked by painfully slow again and Sukuna watched Megumi’s reflection come to a stop behind him and wait. He could make out Megumi’s shape behind him, could make out thin hands hovering over the tops of his shoulders, but other than that Megumi was still and Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat.
“I’m going to blindfold you,” Megumi said.
Sukuna exhaled slowly, fresh nerves running up his spine as he straightened up. There was so much confidence in those words, so much conviction that almost made it sound as though Sukuna didn’t have a choice. He nodded once, pursed his lips, and watched Megumi’s reflection keenly.
Those hands lifted away and there was the faint shimmer of fabric being hung between his fingers. Then that fabric came into vision before he was blind to the world. The material was soft and opaque, giving nothing away and turning his world completely dark. He could feel Megumi’s fingers skirting over his skin, the tightening of the fabric as Megumi tied a knot to secure it in place. Those soft fingers smoothed the fabric over his face, ensured that there wasn’t a chance for any light, and then those hands disappeared.
Sukuna missed the quiet heat of them already.
“I have a few simple rules,” Megumi said.
“To be expected.” A quick flick at his ear made Sukuna hunch his shoulders and glare into the darkness of the blindfold. He pursed his lips and kept his scowl on his face.
“I operate on the traffic light system. Does that suit you?”
Sukuna nodded and licked his lips to find his words, “Yeah, sure.”
There was a pause in which Sukuna felt dread creep up his spine. Megumi finally spoke again, “Once a play has been initiated you’ll refer to me as, ‘Sir.’.”
Sukuna nodded. It was standard stuff that he had heard before. Almost a must for everyone who scened.
“Sir.”
There was nothing else to Megumi’s demand, but Sukuna could hear the request as clear as day. He knew what Megumi expected from him and that alone squeezed his chest. “Sir,” he whispered, hating the way it brought heat creeping up his neck.
Slender fingers followed that crawling heat and Sukuna couldn’t help the slight arch. With the blindfold in place he was acutely aware of every ghostly touch, and he was very aware of the palm that flattened across the back of his neck and the fingers that slid their way into his hair. Megumi had long fingers and they were firm in his hair, a nice comforting weight.
Sukuna’s head snapped back from the sudden pull of his hair and he dug his fingers into the cushions, his lips curling into a grunt. Then he felt it, a whisper of a breath against the shell of his ear, the barely there touch of a nose brushing against his cheek, and Megumi whispered, “Unless it makes you uncomfortable, unless I cross a line, unless you want to tell me yellow or red, I expect obedience. You obey me like the good mutt you are and I’ll make sure you enjoy your time with me. Otherwise, you’re going to hate what happens when you disappoint me.”
Sukuna’s mouth fell open with a groan. He believed every single word of that threat, felt the fear shoot through him in sharp electric spikes that had his cock twitching with great interest in the confines of his pants. He’d wanted mean and Megumi was delivering mean.
Megumi’s hand disappeared with a sharp shove of his head forward and Sukuna swallowed down a shaky breath. “Take your shirt off, but leave the tie on.”
Sukuna nodded and lifted his hands up to his collar, flicking the fabric up to tug the tie free from the confines. He popped the top two buttons free and paused, “Am I standing or sitting?”
“Sir .”
Sukuna let out a breath through his nose, “Am I standing or sitting, Sir ?”
Those fingers slid into place around the back of his neck and squeezed ever so slightly. Sukuna inhaled sharply at the silent promise of a threat. It had him leaning back into that hand, willing that threat into reality. “Sitting is fine,” Megumi said and he snatched his hand back.
Sukuna leaned forward in his seat so that he had room to pop the buttons on his shirt, slide the fabric off his shoulders, and toss the material to one side. He rolled his shoulders about their joints and settled back into his seat, arms coming back up to rest on the back cushions and his nerves tensing at the knowledge that Megumi was still right behind him, watching his every move.
It was eerily quiet and as much as Sukuna tried to listen, there was barely a flutter of fabric. But he could feel the weight of Megumi’s eyes on him, could feel the heat of his stare branding his skin with a deep flush.
The first touch took him by surprise. It was a gentle glide of fingers across the one shoulder, over the nape of his neck, and the other shoulder. Those fingers were barely there, a ghost of a touch, whispering across his skin and making the tiny hairs stand on end. It left him wanting more, a heavier touch, a knowing press of fingers to his muscles.
They disappeared again and Sukuna sucked in a shallow breath. Megumi settled one hand in Sukuna’s hair and slowly dragged his fingers through the short locks, dancing fingertips down the curve of his head until he pressed a thumb into the divot of muscles at the top of his spine. It had Sukuna chasing Megumi’s hand with his head, had him tilting his head back and wanting more.
“You strike me as somebody who wouldn’t give an inch to anybody.” Sukuna stilled at the words, a furrow forming in the centre of his brows. There was that same inclination to Megumi’s tone from earlier, a disinterested, disappointed, angry voice that simmered in the back of Sukuna’s mind. Matched with the words and Sukuna felt almost uncertain about where Megumi was going with this. “Which makes you interesting,” Megumi whispered and there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.
Megumi carried on with the barely there touches and Sukuna kept his lips pressed into a firm line. Fingertips brushed the lines of his muscles, traced the thick bands of black rings that decorated Sukuna’s arms, and dipped into the crease of his elbow. That sent a shiver through him.
“Men like you,” Megumi said, “all break in the same way.” Blunt nails scraped a warm path down his arm. Sukuna dug his fingers into the cushions of the couch as Megumi stopped at his wrist, just above the other tattoos Sukuna had wrapped around his body. “It’s pathetic.”
Those two words struck something within Sukuna. He’d been called pathetic plenty of times but never had the words buried themselves underneath his skin and struck his nerves. Never had there been such conviction behind them, such weight that sounded almost disgusted with him. Most people called him pathetic in a futile, desperate attempt to rile him up, to get that last jab in at him. Nobody had ever meant those repulsive words as hotly as Megumi did. There was fresh heat pooling in his stomach from those two words and the way they branded Sukuna with shame.
“You’re nothing special.” Sukuna swallowed at the cruel words as Megumi traced the tip of one finger along the edge of Sukuna’s palm. “Sure, you might be pretty to look at for some people,” but not him , Sukuna noted to himself. Megumi had said as much but the absence of confirmation was enough to make him feel small. “But for others, you’re nothing more than a nuisance, a disgusting blot on their wonderful life.”
Sukuna’s chest heaved with each painful drag of air into his lungs. Unable to see anything Sukuna was forced to listen and to feel the heat that danced across every fibre of his being with every word Megumi stabbed him with. Those featherlight fingers were constantly on him. Just a whisper away and making him question if it was Megumi or his imagination, his fantasy, or his desire painting those touches there.
He could hear the soft steps of Megumi’s shoes across the floor working their way back towards him until he could feel Megumi standing over him. “You might have men and women looking twice at you,” Megumi lowered his voice with each word, each syllable, until his words were barely a breath, pulling Sukuna forward on his seat so that he didn’t miss a word. All the while Megumi’s fingers danced back up his arm, over the lines of muscles, across thick veins, tracing the patterns of ink across his skin. All the way up until they stopped at his shoulder.
The couch dipped on either side of him and suddenly there was a new heat in his lap, a new weight so close yet so far away. His fingers itched to reach out, wrap around Megumi’s waist and pull him flush against his chest. But that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was meant to be a test, a trial. Something to see if they could get along, if Megumi could truly bring Sukuna down a few levels.
The fingers on his shoulders moved, slow and methodical. Sukuna could feel Megumi’s eyes follow their path; down the centre of his chest alongside the tie he still wore, underneath one pec, skirting the edge of a nipple before it came back up. He tapped at the hollow of Sukuna’s throat and knocked a grunt from his throat.
“But they’re not after you ,” Megumi breathed out, “they couldn’t give two shits about who you are. When people look at you they look at your wallet, your pants, your cock.” Megumi sat in his lap and rocked forward, pulling a low groan from Sukuna’s throat. He wasn’t aware he’d gotten hard until now, until Megumi ground against him. It made him ache and try to spread his legs apart. Megumi’s thighs on either side stopped that, pulling him back in and demanding Sukuna’s co-operation without a word.
Megumi hummed and Sukuna swallowed at the faint sound of a smile in his tone. “They want to use you,” Megumi walked his fingers up the column of Sukuna’s throat, jabbing against his skin to emphasise each syllable of his name as he spoke, “ Su-ku-na.” His mouth fell open, a soundless noise on his tongue, and Megumi tapped two fingers underneath Sukuna’s chin, tilting his head up and closing his mouth once more. Hot breath ghosted across Sukuna’s lips and Sukuna was drawn into that heat, that teasing whisper against his skin. It pulled him up, drew him closer to the body in his lap, to the lean figure still just a hair's breadth away. Even behind the blindfold Sukuna could feel Megumi’s eyes boring into him, piercing him, stirring the heat within his stomach and making his skin flush. “You want to be used,” Megumi hushed out, “don’t you?”
“Yes ,” Sukuna moaned.
There was another hum from Megumi and he tapped his thumb against Sukuna’s chin once, twice, thrice, four times before he pinched it between his fingers and pressed Sukuna back into the couch. Their chests were flush and Sukuna could feel the lean muscles already. Megumi wasn’t soft but he wasn’t built either. It was a wonderful balance that hid a surprising strength he never would’ve imagined Megumi to have.
More heat pressed into his space and Sukuna held his breath when he felt a puff of air kiss his cheek. Then Megumi let out a slow exhale against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through him and making him rock up, seeking any kind of friction for his trapped erection. “ Fucking. Pathetic,” Megumi hissed and Sukuna groaned. Megumi leaned back then, taking the heat with him and leaving Sukuna cold.
The fingers underneath his chin disappeared and Sukuna’s bottom lip was pulled down by a single thumb. He let out a strangled noise, heat rising to his cheeks. It felt as though Megumi was assessing every little detail of him, sizing him up like some prized cow at the auctions. The very thought sent a nervous tremor wracking through him. He’d barely been touched and Megumi had said very little, but Sukuna felt like nothing more than a piece of meat who needed Megumi’s approval.
Maybe Megumi’s reputation was justified.
Two fingers slid over his bottom lip and danced across the threshold of his teeth before Megumi pressed them into Sukuna’s mouth and pinned Sukuna’s tongue down. “Suck.”
Sukuna closed his lips in an instant, imagining Megumi’s face glaring down at him. Those green eyes watching him carefully, grading his every move and rating Sukuna’s worth. He imagined the little scrunch of those brows, the steady stillness of his body as he simply watched and it made fresh heat bubble within his chest.
He curled his fingers into the cushions and when Megumi slid his fingers further in, when the tips brushed the back of his throat, Sukuna canted his head back and moaned, swallowing happily around them. He rocked his hips forward instinctively, sought out any kind of comfort for the growing tightness of his pants, and chased the growing pleasure.
“And you like to use others too.” There was clear disgust in Megumi’s tone, a dark revulsion that flooded Sukuna with shame that only spurred on the need to grind faster against Megumi. He did. He enjoyed using others. He used them every other week at work when somebody needed reminding of his position. He used them during meetings, turning the tables on poor, helpless employees who should’ve known better than to deliver bad news. And he used them at clubs when he needed to relax; a quick fuck in bathroom stalls, or if they were so lucky he’d use others in his bed. Fuck them once, maybe twice. Clear his system and kick them out to a waiting taxi.
There was a certain power rush from knowing that he could do that.
“You’re repulsive.”
Sukuna groaned. He was. He was awful. He should be ashamed of how he treated people. He should feel guilty for the way he spoke to others at times. But he didn’t. He was a self centred asshole at the best of times and a condescending, manipulative bastard at the worst of times.
Megumi shoved his fingers further into Sukuna’s mouth, pushed them as far back as he could reach and curled the rest of his hand over Sukuna’s face. It felt like Megumi had muzzled him and in doing so proved to Sukuna who really was in charge here. Megumi was the one deciding what his mouth was used for, if Sukuna stood or sat, if Sukuna was allowed to talk, or even think with the way he invaded every thought of his brain.
Megumi.
Megumi.
Megumi.
He’d dictated where he’d wanted Sukuna’s legs, demanded a certain state of undress, and now he was capturing Sukuna’s face in a silent show of ownership.
His cock twitched in his pants and the fabric of his boxers felt damp around him.
Megumi scoffed and with that simple noise brought humiliation flooding through Sukuna’s system. “Absolutely vile.” A desperate noise echoed in Sukuna’s throat. Every word Megumi spoke had credence, had Sukuna believing that Megumi truly thought that of him. For all he knew he did. For all he knew Megumi’s perception of him really was that and nothing else.
And it sent waves of heat rushing through him.
There was no warning, no precursor to the sudden rip of fingers from his mouth. Just the sudden absence of weight, the free passage of air, and the heat being snatched away from his cheeks from where Megumi’s fingers had caged him in. Sukuna panted, a few drops of drool dripping from Megumi’s fingers onto his chin. He felt the cool liquid slide over his skin and he swallowed, missing the feeling of those slender fingers in his throat. A firm hand settled across the centre of Sukuna’s chest, fingers framing the hollow of his throat and Sukuna held his breath as he waited.
“Go ahead.”
“Huh?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
Megumi’s weight shifted in his lap and then Megumi’s hips were snugly pressed against Sukuna’s, trapping his cock in a tighter heat. “Go ahead. Use me. Get yourself off and show me that you really are a pitiful excuse for a human being.”
Nerves danced through Sukuna’s body. He was suddenly extremely self-conscious of the situation, of what Megumi’s words meant, of how it would make him look. His cock throbbed in his pants, eager to shove his pride down and rut up against Megumi like a desperate dog. But could he do that? Could he really grind up with the excitement of a teenage boy getting his first orgasm?
“Well?” Megumi snapped, thighs clenching around Sukuna’s legs. “I’m not touching your cock. You’ve not earned that right tonight. And I’m certainly not going to give a crap if you come or not.”
“Shit,” Sukuna whispered. He believed him to. He had no reason not to and the simple idea of being left blue balled after all of this build up had him trembling.
He felt a brief stutter of Megumi’s body before a finger teased the edge of the blindfold. Megumi’s voice was quiet and soft as he whispered, “What’s your colour, Sukuna?”
“Green .” He had no doubt about it. He was green. This- this was exactly what he’d wanted. He’d wanted somebody to come in and tear him apart, he’d wanted to feel worthless, pitiful, weak, small, he wanted all of this and Megumi…
Megumi’s voice was cold again, “Green, what ?” He let go of the blindfold and curled his free hand around Sukuna’s tie. He tightened his hold and wrenched Sukuna’s chin up with a sharp tug of the fabric, exposing his neck. He drummed his other fingers against Sukuna’s chest, pressed into the firm muscles and slid his hand up an inch, closing the distance to his throat.
Sukuna arched up against Megumi’s hand with a small hitch in his throat, willing that distance to close, willing those fingers up higher, “Green, Sir.”
The wash of hot air fanned across Sukuna’s parted lips and he could feel Megumi’s nose just milimetres away from his own. They were so close. If he arched up a fraction more Sukuna was sure they’d bump noses and that he could easily find Megumi’s lips for a searing kiss, blindfolded or not. When Megumi spoke Sukuna felt each word whispered against his face, a soft thud against his heated skin that made him shiver, “So get to it and quit wasting my time. You’re nothing special.”
Sukuna groaned, and he licked his lips. His fingers twitched, scratched at the fabric of the couch, and his body trembled. “Can I-” when was the last time he’d asked for something? When was the last time he’d been so needy for approval? Who the hell was Megumi and how had he clouded every sense inside of Sukuna’s head in such a short space of time? He read Sukuna like a book from the moment he’d walked in, took one look at him, made up his mind, and drove Sukuna’s nerves wild hard and fast. “Can I hold you?”
Megumi snorted and mentally Sukuna deflated. His cock on the other hand twitched at the sneer of words that quickly followed, “You’ve done nothing to prove that you deserve that honour. Now, show me just how deprived you really are, Sukuna, and hump me like the filthy dog you are.”
A bolt of white hot pleasure shot through Sukuna. It should be wrong how much Megumi’s words were doing to him, but he thrived on those insults, felt them stir every electric nerve in his body. People were too scared to say what they really thought of him, too afraid of a backlash Sukuna was guaranteed to give them.
Megumi didn’t care. He was in control, what he said was fact and he allowed no room for disagreement. In this small space with Megum in his lap, one hand fisted around his tie pulling him up, the other pressing against his sweat-dampened chest, threatening to ride up and close around his throat, Sukuna was powerless.
And he fucking enjoyed it.
Revelled in the twisted rush of emotions.
The first buck of hips had him pitifully reaching nothing, had him whining at the lack of contact, and had Megumi huffing his disappointment. The second grind of his hips had him finding the cleft of Megumi’s ass and Sukuna couldn’t stop the noise that rumbled in his throat. He was so hard it hurt. Every small movement, every tiny strain of fabric tightening across his crotch, every slither of pressure, had him aching and throbbing even more.
His third rut of his hips had him finding Megumi’s ass again and Sukuna committed that location to memory. It was all he had, all Megumi was offering him, and Sukuna took it. He rocked up, rolled his hips, snapped, and bucked, his pace steadily growing faster, sloppier, more and more desperate as each grind became too little, not quite enough. The ebbs of his orgasm was somewhere deep in his stomach, the flames of it teased on each thrust of his hips, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel it wanting to grow, begged it to come forward and throw him head first into ecstasy, but it felt impossible like this.
Before Sukuna could stop it a whine bubbled up in his chest, rattled up his throat and filled the air. Frustration crept in his muscles and he tightened his grip on the cushions, needing something to help, anything.
“Megumi,” he mumbled.
The fingers on his chest slid up, teased the base of his throat and squeezed with clear temptation. Megumi pulled harder on the tie and Sukuna choked on a groan as the fabric dug into his skin and muscles, adding pressure to his throat that made Sukuna’s boxers dampen even further.
“You can’t even say please can you?” Sukuna shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time that word had left his lips. Megumi tutted and Sukuna rocked his hips up with the desperation of a thirsty man, lapping at an oasis that wasn’t there. “Disgusting, absolutely, fucking disgusting.”
Each word sent new waves of electricity rocking down Sukuna’s spine, had him curling his toes and had his muscles tensing. “Fuck,” he panted, a breathless groan rumbling through him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Megumi shifted in his lap, pressed his cheeks to Sukuna’s and whispered cruelly, “You wish I’d let you fuck me.”
Megumi stole a cry from him with those words and wrenched his orgasm from him. Sukuna’s world drowned in the mind numbing white noise of pleasure and he struggled to catch a breath, to think straight.
The hand around the tie finally relaxed and Sukuna remembered how to breathe, how to swallow air back into his lungs. His pants already felt gross after coming in them but there was little he could do with Megumi still perched comfortably in his lap. He chest heaved with every pant and Sukuna’s body slowly sunk into the cushions, his bones and muscles melting from the best orgasm he’d had in a long time.
Light suddenly invaded his vision and it took him several blinks to clear his vision. The first thing he spotted was softly creased green eyes. The second thing he spotted was the small frown of soft looking lips and Sukuna couldn’t stop his grin. It was the best view to greet him from the land of darkness. The harsh bite of Megumi’s features was gone and instead Sukuna could see the full beauty of his expressions.
He looked cute when he frowned but he looked better without it.
“What’s your colour, Sukuna?”
He hummed, finally easing the grip he had on the cushions. “Green, Sir.”
Something crossed Megumi’s mind. Sukuna could see it in the shimmer of his eyes. Whatever it was quickly disappeared and Megumi cupped Sukuna’s face with both hands, thumbs coming up to brush across his cheeks. “Do you need anything?” Megumi whispered, the cruel bite of words gone and replaced instead with soft concern.
Sukuna tilted his head to one side and simply watched Megumi. Clean boxers would’ve been a nice start, but that would mean letting Megumi get up, letting him take that heat away with him, that comforting weight that felt just right. It meant taking away the perfect view he had and he wanted to hold onto that whilst his brain slowly started working again.
Megumi frowned, “Sukuna?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his voice rougher than normal. He was fine. He really was. “Let’s talk.”
Megumi arched one brow and glanced down at their position, “Do you want me to stay-”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Sukuna brought his arms down and finally settled his hands on Megumi’s thighs. He could feel the hint of lean muscle underneath and he wondered what it would take to get Megumi to take his pants off. What would it take to let Sukuna fuck him? Would he hand over control to Sukuna and let him go wild or would he make Sukuna fuck him how he wanted to be fucked, make Sukuna follow orders and commands that satisfied Megumi only.
Megumi settled his hands on Sukuna’s shoulders and they felt nice there. Soothing against the tension that had been wrung through him. “I take it you were satisfied.”
There was no mockery, or jabbing of fingers into Sukuna’s chest to insult him or hurt his pride. A simple statement of fact that echoed the transaction that this was. Sukuna had paid for a service and Megumi had delivered it. He nodded with a hum, “Very. Do you take regular clients?”
In this position he took advantage of the contact Megumi let him have. He squeezed supple thighs and brushed a thumb over the crease of his hips. The urge to rip those clothes off of him and ravage Megumi there and then was still there, simmering beneath the surface. Perhaps that was part of Megumi’s charm. He looked like a walking tease and maybe he knew how to play the part too well.
“I do. You’d have to email the office so that we can double check the calendar. You tell us what works for you and we tell you what we have available.”
“Can I call?”
Megumi shook his head and threaded a set of fingers through Sukuna’s dampened hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “No phones. Our inbox is monitored twenty four hours a day though.”
Sukuna frowned. What kind of place didn’t have a phone number? “What if it’s an emergency?”
That had Megumi freezing, a frown fixed on his face. “The only emergency we could have with our clients is a sub drop and we’ve not had that experience in months. Every employed dom has been taught how to avoid that and what signs to look out for.”
It clicked in Sukuna’s head then why Megumi was still here, why he was allowing Sukuna to touch and look, why Megumi was letting Sukuna use his weight as a comfort.
Do you need anything?
It was a subtle question aimed at figuring out what comfort somebody needed and it only made Sukuna’s cheeks rush with heat. He settled for a grunt in the back of his throat and leaned back in his seat, eyes taking in Megumi’s suit clad form. “No phone numbers? Really?”
Megumi gave him a look. There was a story there. “Strictly emails only. As I said, they’re monitored twenty four hours a day and by multiple members of staff.”
Sukuna dragged his hands down Megumi’s thighs and over his knees, enjoying the way Megumi was the perfect fit for his hands. Not too big and not too small. “How often do you have clients? Is there a limit?”
“The only limit is slot availability. If we’re already booked, we can’t fit you in.”
“How late can I cancel? In case something comes up.”
“Twenty four hours and your payment will roll over to the next session. Anything less, you lose your payment and have to pay again.”
Sukuna nodded. Those were reasonable terms. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Megumi wriggled in his lap and Sukuna was reminded of the damp mess in his pants. He was going to need a shower after this, and maybe a quick wank with new fantasies that all contained Megumi. His cock twitched at the very idea of that and he willed it stay calm.
“You can go if you want,” Sukuna said, dropping his hands to the couch.
“It’s on your time,” Megumi said.
“How long do I have left?”
Megumi hummed, “Until nine thirty.”
Sukuna turned his head to spy the clock that hung on the wall. Nine twenty. He had ten minutes left with Megumi. He pursed his lips together. He wasn’t a cuddler and he certainly didn’t do PDA. This was as close as he’d gotten to any kind of affection. Even the other doms he’d been with had struggled to truly drag him into a subspace where he clung to any kind of human connection afterwards. This was plenty and it was enough. “It’s fine.” He tipped his chin over to wear Megumi had left his bag. “Get your things together.”
Megumi hesitated, his eyes trying desperately to read Sukuna, before he offered Sukuna a single nod and climbed to his feet. Sukuna felt cold the moment Megumi was gone, but it was nothing a hot shower and clean clothes couldn’t fix. He chanced a look at his pants and cursed the stain he could see starting to seep through the material. They’d need to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow. Next time he was going to wear some inexpensive joggers he could toss away if he really wanted to.
There was the sound of a zip filling the air and Sukuna reached for his shirt. He tugged his arms through the sleeves to feign some sense of decency, and trailed after Megumi towards the front door.
“Do you need my assistant to call you a taxi?”
“No, thanks,” Megumi said, already reaching for the door handle, “I like the train.”
Sukuna blinked and nodded. Each to their own he guessed. “I’ll send an email tomorrow.” He’d have Uraume send an email. They were better at that kind of thing and had an art for the perfect string of words.
Megumi stepped out into the hall and turned to look back at him, his glower slowly creeping back across his face. Sukuna didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on his exposed chest, tracing the lines of ink that covered his skin. Sukuna allowed him that moment and waited until Megumi cleared his throat, thanked Sukuna for his time, and left.
Once Sukuna was alone he finally felt the calm of his muscles come back to him. The sweat on his skin turned cold and he shivered. He snatched his phone up, sent Uraume an email with the list of things to find out from Chimera Shadow Gardens, and set about glancing through his personal emails to see if there was anything that needed addressing urgently.
He reached for his packet of cigarettes, stuck one between his lips, and lit the end, enjoying the fresh hit of nicotine. He took a few drags and let it dangle between his lips as he scrolled through his phone with one hand. With his other hand he moved the chair Megumi had used back to where it belonged, stalling when he spotted a waiting text from Yuuji. There was something about a proposal and an engagement party or something. Sukuna puffed away on his cigarette with a scowl as he worked on replying to Yuuji, asking him what the hell that was supposed to mean and when he was free to discuss it. Last he checked Yuuji had only just started a new relationship.
Sukuna fished a clean pair of boxers from his drawers, tossed them onto his bed, threw his phone onto the mattress too, and stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray by his bed. He could finish the rest of it tomorrow over coffee. Right now, he needed a shower and he worked on turning the en suite shower on, stripping his clothes off, and tossing them into the hamper before he finally stepped under the spray of water.
The instant the hot water hit his skin Sukuna felt infinitely cleaner. The aches that lingered deep in his muscles soon disappeared and he propped his hands against the tiled walls, letting the water run down his back.
Megumi.
It was an interesting name and Megumi himself was just as interesting. Sukuna had been impressed. It took a lot of guts, confidence and guesswork to walk into a stranger's place and assume the worst of them like Megumi had. Even if Sukuna had asked for him to be mean, it still took bravado to attempt it and pull it off as well as Megumi did. It could’ve ended very badly if Sukuna hadn’t been so engrossed in the way Megumi’s words had heat flaring in his stomach. If anybody else had dared to try that Sukuna was sure he would’ve eaten them alive.
But Megumi.
He let out a low breath, his mind conjuring up the man’s image. What he wouldn’t give to ruin that perfectly pale skin, to see tears on those lashes, a blush creeping up Megumi’s neck. Sukuna grinned to himself and slowly snaked a hand between his legs. His cock was half hard just from the thought of seeing Megumi looking debauched and he wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself slowly.
He wondered what it would take to put Megumi on his knees. To tower over him, pull his chin towards Sukuna’s cock and tell him to suck.
A ripple of pleasure rocked through him and Sukuna groaned. Megumi was far too pretty for his own good, or maybe that was why he took to domming. The ability to have even the most powerful of men at his mercy, to have them obeying his commands, have them being wrung dry by his words alone. The ego boost that must be.
Sukuna let out another strangled noise, twisted his fingers around the head of his fully erect cock, and dragged thick drops of pre from the tip. They splashed against the floor of the shower, mingled with the water and disappeared down the drain.
His mind continued to work, imagining Megumi in the shower with him, soft lips drawn tightly around his cock, bobbing his head in time with Sukuna’s pants. Sucking, swallowing, teasing his fingers over the heavy weight of his balls, trailing them back, back, back until he reached Sukuna’s rim, only to taunt his expectant muscles. Make them flutter and ache for something, anything to fill him.
“Shit,” Sukuna hissed, his body rocking into his fist. “Megumi,” he panted. He pressed an arm to the tiles, put all of his weight onto him, and fucked his hand fast and hard. He came with another cry, another whine in the back of his throat and the water from the shower dripping down his face. When he cracked his eyes open a smear of white decorated the wall and he hummed, gathering his strength up to wipe it away.
When clarity finally came back to him halfway through washing his hair, Sukuna realised it had been years since he’d moaned anybody else’s name. Years since he’d imagined a partner, dom or otherwise, and jerked himself to the image painted clearly in his mind.
Megumi had crawled his way underneath Sukuna’s skin and forced himself into Sukuna’s thoughts. He couldn’t decide if he liked the idea of that or not, but one thing was certain;
He was fucked.