Chapter Text
Megumi never wanted to come, and Yuuji feels horrible for making him.
The DJ wasn’t bad, and the songs he chose weren’t bad. They weren’t good though, definitely some questionable choices for a prom, and although Yuuji would never admit it, he’s grateful for Megumi’s impatience. Yuuji tried to hold out, just to make the point, but there was only so much he could handle.
An hour into off beat clapping and stomping, Megumi slaps a furious palm to his chest and drags Yuuji straight out the venue. He apologizes all the way into the alley Megumi dips down, hoping it’s enough to diffuse his temper.
When it doesn’t, Yuuji tries telling a desperate joke about the stompclaps conjuring the Victoria Secret perfume catalog to mask the smell of stolen Budweiser. But Megumi just stares him down from the opposite wall, a stolen bottle of Toji’s tequila pressed to his mouth.
“I’m sorry! I already apologized a billion times. What else do you want?”
“Drink,” he says and holds the bottle out to him, as if Yuuji would take it.
It’s fair, but it’s still a punishment. They stand there, at odds, until Megumi drives the bottle into Yuuji’s chest. The momentum forces Yuuji’s back against brick, mouth dropping open at the shock and scrape. His jaw is pried open with dirty fingers as Megumi pours the liquor onto his tongue and watches it stream down his face and saturate his sweater.
He fucking hates the flavor of alcohol, but he did waste Megumi’s money bringing him here knowing that Toji barely makes enough to support the two of them. So Yuuji deals with it. Deals with Megumi being pissed at him but still kind and lucid enough to pinch Yuuji’s nose shut while he fights the urge to gag.
Megumi doesn’t slow down in the slightest — just pours at irregular intervals that cut into Yuuji’s attempts to catch his breath until he begs him to stop.
“Great, now we’re both uncomfortable,” Megumi says casually, dropping the empty bottle in a bin.
He’s on his phone as Yuuji loosens up. His stomach might be trying to claw its way out of his body, but the feeling of being drunk isn’t so bad. All the tension that tunneled its way under his skin floats out and away.
Beautiful and short lived because Megumi strides out the alley without warning and Yuuji tries and fails to keep up with his long gait. He’s swaying and stumbling on the sidewalk until his head finds the stability of Megumi’s shoulder — more accident that intentional motion. Yuuji figures if he just… goes forward, he’ll be fine. The smoke of Megumi’s freshly lit cigarette wafts into his nose and down the block. Comfortable, he lets his eyes close for a moment.
“Hey, pull it together.” He lays a few hard slaps on his cheek. “You didn’t drink that much.”
“M’Fine. How’re you?” Yuuji slurs.
Megumi mutters something under his breath and flicks his cig into the gutter when a beat down Nissan Altima pulls up to them. Its side mirror’s held to the body with duct tape and a prayer, and Toji sprawls out in the front seat looking greasy as ever. They’ve all seen better days, for sure.
“You boys have fun?” Toji asks in the way he always does: put on and performative and totally unfazed by the way Yuuji trips into the back and lands hard on the cushion. His legs are repositioned like a puppet.
“No, it was wack,” Megumi says curtly.
And Yuuji knows he’s fucked because he has no idea where Megumi’s voice is coming from and the hands on his skin feel like they’re buffered by a comforter. When he goes to stretch his legs out, he finds the door’s been shut already. God.
Toji pulls off the curb the moment Megumi settles into the passenger seat, way too reckless for how sensitive Yuuji’s stomach is right now. He groans, burps, then lets out a small laugh.
“For you, maybe,” Toji responds, “Hi, Yuuji.”
“Hiiiiiii,” he garbles against the pleather. He’s more concerned with the warmth of the car seat than the content of their conversation, but he tries to be attentive to his name at least.
The fresh breeze of the river is sucked in through the window as Megumi lights the blunt Toji hands him; it sweeps the stale aroma of cigarettes, old food, sweat, body odor — so particular to Megumi and Toji — across Yuuji’s face and out the window. Toji’s been shuttling them around in this shit car for too many years; it’s disgusting, and comforting, and familiar. The residuals lull him into a stupor.
“Can’t believe I paid to fucking leave,” Megumi mumbles.
“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later,” Toji says, “Yuuji, what’s your address again?”
“Mmmmffhhh 3”
The last thing he remembers is a hand pressing the blunt to his lips, and the noise of the car accelerating down the highway.
✩
“Hey kid,” Toji calls, “You survived the car ride… Congrats. Now get out before you puke on my seats.”
Toji’s been shaking him for a few minutes but the snap of his fingers and the sound of his name are what wake Yuuji from his drunken slumber. He’s slipped off the seats and is now laid out on a bed of trash on the car’s floor.
“To——- jiiii… I’m drunk,” he moans.
Megumi laughs easy from the front seat. Toji’s on the verge of wringing his neck for wasting his money AND making his drunk friend his problem.
“Yeah, I know. Up.”
Toji rests a hand on the car roof, uses the other to grab at the front of his tacky pink sweater. The fibers make an ominous tearing sound, too cheap and thin to bear the weight of 200 pounds of muscle underneath it.
“No! Down,” Yuuji slurs. Toji’s head smacks hard against the car frame when Yuuji drops his weight. Toji barely has the space to process the pain vibrating through his skull, barely gets out the first 10 curses, when Yuuji’s face goes green and his hand flies to his mouth.
Hell no.
Toji drags him out, swings him far enough across the pavement that his puke won’t splash back on the car door. To the disgust of everyone around him, Yuuji retches and heaves and eventually throws up all over the concrete. Toji pushes him over with his boot so he doesn’t suffocate.
He finds his head eventually and christens the state with lots of spit and a too enthusiastic “Hey! I live here,” as he stands then stumbles headfirst into traffic, collapsing in the street like roadkill.
Toji runs out into blazing headlights with his hand held out.
“You’re like a fucking toddler. What — I gotta hold your hand while you cross the street too?” he yells over the sound of horns. It turns out to be less handholding and more dragging because Yuuji refuses to get up. His legs scrape up against the asphalt, making no move to get out the fucking way, despite the oncoming cars whizzing dangerously past his feet.
Someone yells from a truck passing by: “Just pick him up, dickhead.” Toji returns a full chested “Fuck you!”
“Yeahhhhh, carry meeee dickhead,” Yuuji squeezes his palms around Toji’s forearms, swollen pink hands soft against the skin. Toji doesn’t want to explain to his parents why their son is all beat up and bleeding, so he drags him up into his body. Almost instantly, Yuuji’s grinding his red cheeks into the center of his chest, pressing his half hard cock along the length of Toji’s thigh.
“Your tits’re so big…….mommy…”
“Don’t piss me off,” Toji turns his head to the lobby keypad, tries to ignore Yuuji tonguing the side of his index finger, acrid drool leaking down his hand. God, Toji’s itching for this to be over. “What’s the code, Yuuji?”
“If I…”
“No conditions, tell me or I leave you here.”
Yuuji whines and takes entirely too long to let them into the building. His slow hands dial in the numbers over and over again until they’re finally inside. That should be the end, but drunk Yuuji is a never ending battle.
Unresponsive to “get off,” he's peeled off Toji’s body and slides down his chest, all melodrama and no self-awareness. He grapples onto Toji’s t-shirt, knuckles giving out as gravity works its magic. Before he hits the cracked tile floor, the brat grabs onto his sweatpants. His face hits the floor before they do.
“Revenge!”
“How do you think this looks dumbass?” Toji scowls, looking up at the camera fixed to the ceiling.
“Don’t care,” Yuuji mumbles into the top of his feet. And he should. It’s 8pm on a Saturday night. He lives here.
“You couldn’t have picked a Wednesday or something to act up?” Toji asks to a suddenly determined Yuuji clawing his way up his thighs.
With the enthusiasm and shamelessness of a drunk teenager, Yuuji nuzzles into Toji’s dingy white boxers. They’re rough, holey, and the front is covered in piss stains because Toji hasn’t bothered to shower this week — not that he’s pressed about it or that Yuuji seems to care. He sniffs him deep and kisses the imprint of his dick through the fabric.
“Yuuji, what the fuck?”
“Shh, you’re asking tooooo many questions. Just let me do my thing, ‘kay?”
Toji’s about to say something about Megumi when Yuuji nips at the head of his cock. His lips replace teeth, capturing its length as incoherent noises vibrate across Toji’s cunt.
“—y’re you bein’ so difficult? Hmmm?” Yuuji mumbles, loosening his mouth.
He’s got his teeth too close to his dick, it’s clear that he’s not going to stop, and Toji doesn’t feel like arguing with a boy offering to give him head for free.
“If you’re gonna do it, make it quick. I’ve got a kid waiting.”
Toji realizes soon that Yuuji’s too far gone to act on the command or keep up with “quick”; he moves at his own drunken pace, slow and frantic and seemingly out of time all together. Toji keeps trying to get him into the little mail section with no success and a lot of whining.
Yuuji's gonna suck his dick here, now, right in front of the doorway.
Great.
He doesn’t need to be here any longer than necessary, so Toji shoves his briefs down just under his ass, hand guiding Yuuji’s mouth to where the pink of his cock hangs between his bush. Yuuji sticks out his tongue experimentally, drags the tip along the edge of his folds, and wags his tongue around like a dog. Like a kid shaking its toy around in the air, calling it play.
“Be serious.”
“Nooo.”
And what the fuck is he supposed to do? Yuuji’s sliding his uncoordinated tongue around his hole, lapping up his slick and piss and whatever else accumulated down there after a week of activity. His swelling cock splayed over his nose, Toji looks down at him with an expression full of disgust.
This can’t be pleasant. He has no idea how much Yuuji drank to make it tolerable.
The first time someone walks past the building, Toji’s heart rate spikes. He tries to drag his pants up, but Yuuji just shoves his face deeper into his bush, enveloping his cock in a wet heat that feels really, really good once he teases it out from under the hood. His eyes are closed, brows pulled together like he’s in the middle of solving something difficult and not completely blackout. He hollows his cheeks to keep the pressure, sucks gently on him when Toji makes a pleased but strung out groan above him.
Toji has to be stressed enough for the both of them because Yuuji actually doesn’t care. He wasn’t lying.
Yuuji’s fisting his dick when a woman approaches the door. She looks at Toji with her eyes blown wide; he tries to stare back, look a little apologetic, but Yuuji’s loud and he’s clearly blissed out. He watches her back up with her arms raised then scurry down the street.
On top of it being awkward as shit to get eaten out and make eye contact with a stranger, Toji knows she’s calling the building’s super, at the very least. She looks like the type to call the fucking cops too, and christ, he really doesn’t need to get arrested tonight.
“Fuck, hurry up,” Toji groans when Yuuji slides two then three fingers up into him way too slowly for what the situation demands. He gathers Toji’s slick, slides it over his own leaking cock, then fucks it all back into his cunt. “Can’t finger me any harder than that?”
“Well,” Yuuji drawls, trailing off with slow, tired laugh. Is he falling asleep? Seriously? Chasing the slope of his head, Toji fists a hand in his pink hair. He needs more — now — but he can tell Yuuji’s on his way out.
“Did you forget who you’re here for?”
Toji slots his fingers into Yuuji’s mouth breaching the hole just enough to pin his outstretched tongue against his teeth: a warm bed for Toji’s cock — one he happily slips into, propelled by jerking hips. Yuuji huffs and tries to wrest the muscle from his grip, but Toji just presses harder until his resistance turns half-hearted. The center of his tongue beats up against his dick as Toji uses his mouth, slides against the rough texture of his tongue. Spit bubbles around the surface, disappearing and reappearing where Toji ruts into the hole.
Yuuji’s fingers shift lazily in his body, not precise in the slightest, a little too soft and just how Toji likes. The sensation diffuses itself around his walls and occasionally catches him where he wants it the most, like a surprise; But it’s not enough to distract him from the sensation of Yuuji taking his dick like a pro.
Toji’s grunting and grinding his hips down onto Yuuji’s hand when a man walks down the stairs, stalls, then tries to pretend he doesn’t see the shit happening so clearly in front of his face. Toji assumes he’s not Yuuji’s dad because his jaw is still attached to his face, but the person clearly knows him. Literally stops to look way too closely at the boy.
“Yuuji? Wha—”
“Tojiiiiiiiii, are you gonna cum in me?” he interrupts, blinking up at him like his neighbor or whoever isn’t a few steps away.
And he gets it. The man can stay if he wants and does, with his back turned as he places a call to Yuuji’s parents. He might be a freak degenerate pervert, but it doesn’t matter for shit because all Toji cares about is chasing his orgasm and Yuuji’s filthy fucking mouth. He’ll be gone before they get downstairs.
“Yes, baby. Suck. Now.”
And Yuuji’s barely holding on to consciousness but glides his tongue over Toji’s length, ekes out a last few jerks then throats him until Toji creams all over his chin, cock throbbing between his lips.
The man’s hanging up the phone, stupid enough to move like he’s about to separate them and eventually backing off when a deep feral grin stretches across Toji’s mouth. Giving the man the show he clearly wants, Toji slides the full length of Yuuji’s face under his cunt, painting his forehead, nose, and mouth with cum.
“Gonna fuck me?” Yuuji asks through weighted lids.
“Fuck no,” Toji says and yanks his sweats up, “Go beg your parents for mercy.”
“Oh,” Yuuji laughs, sleepy. His body hits the floor once Toji’s no longer there to support him.
“He’s all yours,” Toji mocks, letting his hand come down heavy on the fuming man’s back before walking out.
He swings the car door open to Megumi sitting in silence with his arms crossed.
Before he says anything, Megumi reaches across Toji to roll all the car windows down.
“You smell disgusting.”
“Yeah, well, blame your friend,” Toji scowls. He hears the opening screams from the building while he’s fixing his dick in his pants. On cue, he pulls off down the street.