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(Tokyo Airport, Pre-Flight Boarding)
The recycled air of Gate 17 hummed with pre-dawn exhaustion. Megumi adjusted his tie, the crisp navy fabric feeling like a noose. The man walking down the aisle towards him was Ryomen Sukuna. Captain Sukuna, technically, though Megumi refused to grant him the title in his thoughts. It was bad enough he was forced to say it out loud. He didn't have to look up from what he was doing to tell it was him. He could feel the arrogance radiating from him.
The pilot’s uniform, tailored to perfection, did nothing to soften the predatory aura he radiated. His usual smirk was in place as he watched Megumi check the manifest on his tablet. Megumi could feel it like a physical touch he desperately wanted to scrub off.
"Morning, Fushiguro," Sukuna called, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the other attendants. "Ready for another thrilling journey through the friendly skies? Or," he added, dropping his voice slightly but ensuring it still carried. "Ready for that coffee date you keep dodging?"
Megumi didn't look up, focusing on his tablet. "Pre-flight checks are complete, Captain," he stated flatly. "Boarding commences in ten minutes."
"Ever the picture of efficiency. Love when I see you on my schedule." He leaned closer. Megumi tensed, but otherwise refused to react to the pending invasion of his space. The scent of Sukuna’s expensive cologne- leather and something darkly spiced- filled his head. "That offer for a tour of the cockpit still stands. Private viewing. Just you and me."
Megumi finally looked up, fixing Sukuna with his coldest, flattest stare. The pilot’s eyes, a disconcerting shade of dark amber, held open amusement. Megumi hated the involuntary flush he felt creeping up his neck, hated the traitorous skip of his pulse. Attraction to this arrogant, boundary-ignoring menace was a personal failing he couldn’t seem to overcome.
"I have duties, Captain," he said, his voice clipped like ice cracking. "Kindly attend to yours."
He turned sharply, marching towards the jet bridge entrance, the phantom sensation of Sukuna’s gaze burning on his lower body as the man called out for a raincheck, his voice carrying. The other flight attendants grinned or giggled at them. Megumi ignored them all.
(Gate 33)
The pre-dawn chill seeped into Megumi’s bones as he prepped the beverage cart. Just as he was stifling a yawn, Sukuna materialized beside him, holding two steaming cups.
"Double espresso, splash of oat milk, no sugar," he declared, placing one cup pointedly on Megumi’s cart. "Just how you like it. You'll need the fuel for wrangling the Monday morning masses."
Megumi stared at the cup, then at Sukuna’s infuriatingly expectant smirk. How does he even know my order?
"I don’t accept drinks from passengers while on duty, Captain," he stated coldly, ignoring the cup. "Regulations."
Sukuna’s smirk widened. "Passenger? Ouch, Fushiguro. And here I thought we were friends, bonding over shared airspace and questionable airline meals." He nudged the cup closer. "Call it a pre-flight safety necessity. Can’t have my lead attendant nodding off mid-service."
"Captain Geto never felt the need to caffeinate me personally," Megumi retorted, turning his back to check the restock. He heard Sukuna’s low chuckle.
"Captain Geto lacks vision. And taste," Sukuna took a deliberate sip from his own cup, his eyes never leaving Megumi’s profile. "Suit yourself. But it’s there if you change your mind. Wouldn’t want you getting... thirsty." He lingered just a moment too long before strolling towards the cockpit.
After Sukuna disappeared for final checks, Megumi grabbed the cooling espresso. He took a reluctant sip. It was perfect. He drained it quickly, tossing the cup like evidence.
(Narita Airport, Post-Flight Debrief)
The crew lounge was emptying after a grueling red-eye from Singapore. Megumi was refilling his water bottle, trying to wash away the taste of recycled air and passenger complaints. Suddenly, the space beside him was occupied. Sukuna leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, effectively trapping him.
"Long night, Megumi?" Sukuna purred, using his first name deliberately, intimately. "You looked good handing out those lukewarm noodles. Almost made me wish I was back in economy."
Megumi closed the fridge door, maybe a little harder than necessary. He had been up for more than a day and had one last shift, he was too tired to deal with this.
"It’s Fushiguro. And if you’re not here for water, move."
He tried to step around, but Sukuna shifted, blocking his path easily. His proximity was overwhelming, his size filling the small space, radiating heat. Megumi gave him a bored look as he waited for him to get whatever he was planning over with.
"Always so prickly," Sukuna mused, his gaze raking over Megumi’s face. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that sent an unwanted shiver down Megumi’s spine. "But that's okay. I like a challenge. Makes the eventual surrender sweeter."
It was the hours between too-early and too-late, and he was too exhausted for this.
"The only thing surrendering here is my patience. Get out of my way, Sukuna, or I’ll file a complaint and report you for harassment."
He didn't wait for a reaction. He shoved past the pilot, his shoulder connecting solidly with Sukuna’s arm. The contact, brief as it was, sent a jolt through him, anger mixed with a humiliating spark of something else as his stupid tired brain focused of how strong Sukuna felt. He stalked away, refusing to look back, ignoring the low chuckle that followed him.
(Tokyo to Fukuoka - Cruising Altitude)
The cabin hummed with the monotony of mid-flight. Megumi was methodically collecting trash when a chime of the PA system went off.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking."
Sukuna's baritone, smooth as aged whiskey and amplified to fill every corner of the cabin, washed over Megumi as he collected trash.
"We're currently cruising comfortably at 37,000 feet, enjoying some lovely clear skies on our way to Fukuoka. Estimated arrival remains on schedule. Cabin crew will be coming through shortly with snacks and beverages."
Standard, boring flight message. Megumi almost tuned it out as Sukuna continued.
"But before I sign off, I have a very special announcement. It seems we have a birthday boy onboard today, working hard to ensure your comfort. So, when you see our esteemed Lead Flight Attendant, Fushiguro Megumi, please don't be shy, give him a big, warm, 'Happy Birthday!'"
A numb hand almost dropped his coffee midway to his mouth. Heat, fierce and humiliating, exploded up his neck and flooded his face. A wave of murmurs and soft chuckles rippled through the cabin. Dozens of heads turned, searching for him.
"Bastard," Megumi hissed under his breath. He wanted to melt into the patterned carpet, or better yet, to storm the cockpit and throttle the infuriating pilot with his bare hands. He settled for closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, wishing for sudden decompression of the cabin or enough turbulence to distract everyone.
The PA clicked off. The damage was done.
The next hour was exquisite torture. Every time Megumi ventured into the aisle, it began.
"Happy Birthday, young man!" beamed an elderly lady, patting his arm.
"Oi! Birthday boy! Any special drinks on the house?" joked a businessman.
"Happy Birthday~!" chirped a group of teenagers girls, giggling.
"Hope you have fun later!" offered a drunk-looking man.
"Thank you," Megumi repeated over and over, a monotonous, polite mantra. "That's very kind."
Inside, he was seething. He navigated the aisles with the stiff precision of a wind-up toy, avoiding eye contact, focusing intensely on drink orders, trash collection, anything to escape the relentless birthday barrage. He could practically feel Sukuna’s smug satisfaction radiating from behind the cockpit door.
(Tokyo to Sapporo, cruising altitude.)
The mid-morning flight was packed. Megumi moved through the narrow aisles with practiced efficiency, his professional mask firmly in place. Pleasant smile? Check. Calm demeanor? Check. Internal screaming? Deafening. He was doing beverage service when it happened near row 23.
A businessman in a gray suit, clearly irritated and nursing his third whiskey, tried to grab something on Megumi’s cart. The sharp movement caused the man's own half-full cup of soda, precariously balanced on his tray table, to tip over. Dark, sticky liquid cascaded down the front of his expensive-looking shirt and tie.
"You idiot!" the man roared, face filled with rage. He surged to his feet, ignoring the startled gasps of nearby passengers. "Look what you did! This is Armani!"
Megumi took a steadying breath. "I apologize for the accident, sir," he said calmly, reaching for a stack of napkins. "Let me help you clean-"
"You knocked it over!" the man bellowed, swatting Megumi's hand hard, knocking the offered napkins away. Spittle flew from his lips. "Clumsy bitch! Do you know how much this suit cost? You’re paying for the cleaning!"
Megumi felt the familiar heat of anger rising, threatening to melt his composure. "Sir, please lower your voice. I assure you, my cart did not touch your tray. If you’ll allow me-"
"Allow you?!" The man took a menacing step forward, invading Megumi’s personal space. The stench of whiskey and fury was overwhelming. "You think you can just spill soda on me and get away with it? I bought my ticket, that means I pay your salary. You work for me!" His hand shot out, shoving Megumi hard in the chest. "Now do as you're told and-"
The shove wasn't powerful enough to knock Megumi over, but it was the final spark. His carefully constructed professionalism shattered. Before he could think it through, he grabbed a thick wad of napkins and hurled them directly into the man’s enraged, red face. Paper flew everywhere, gently drifting down and covering the aisle.
"Clean it up yourself, you drunken ass!"
Silence crashed over the cabin. Passengers stared, wide-eyed. The businessman froze, a napkin clinging absurdly to his suit, soda staining his shirt, pure shock momentarily replacing his rage. Then, his face contorted into a mask of apoplectic fury.
"Did you see that?! He assaulted me! This is assault! I demand this flight land immediately! I will end your career, you little shit!"
Megumi stood rigid, his chest heaving, his fists clenched. The adrenaline surge was already receding, replaced by a cold, sinking dread that felt like plunging into the arctic ocean below them.
Shit. He saw his career, his carefully managed life, crumbling before his eyes. The man was already yelling for the captain, demanding names, threatening lawsuits.
"Sir," Megumi forced out,all pretense of calm gone, replaced by a desperate attempt at damage control he knew was futile. "Sir, if you would please-"
"Save it," the man spat. "You’re finished! Where’s the pilot?! I want him here now!"
Another passenger yelled that the pilot was flying the plane and called the man an idiot. The drunken man turned to face the voice, yelling at the other passenger. It took the attention off of Megumi long enough for him to retreat to the back, another attendant coming to take his place with the cart.
Megumi stood alone behind the curtain, the palpable weight of judgment from dozens of eyes still sticking to his skin. The cold dread solidified into a leaden certainty: he was definitely getting fired.
The plane landed as scheduled and emptied slowly, passengers casting curious glances at Megumi as they filed past. The businessman was among that last to leave. He shot Megumi a look of pure venom.
"Remember my name," he hissed. "I'll be following up to make sure you were let go."
Megumi kept his face a carefully neutral mask, though his insides felt hollowed out. Before Megumi could start prepping for the next flight, or even let himself breathe, a woman in a sharp, dark blue suit with the airline’s discreet logo on the lapel walked down the aisle. She carried a tablet and wore a professional, assessing expression.
"Fushiguro?" she inquired politely.
Megumi swallowed. "Yes?"
"I'm from Corporate Quality Assurance. I was onboard today conducting an unannounced service evaluation," Megumi's heart dropped into his stomach.
Shit.
"I witnessed the incident involving the passenger, and I need your account of what transpired."
Megumi nodded mutely, gesturing for her to step into the slightly more private space of the front galley. And as if things couldn't get more humiliating, Sukuna chose that moment to leave the cockpit. He was leaning against the doorframe, casually munching on a packet of airline peanuts and hovered while Megumi explained what happened.
He recounted the events- the man spilling his drink, the refusal of napkins, the shove- and tried to keep his voice level, factual. He didn’t embellish, but he didn’t downplay his reaction either.
"He shoved me," Megumi stated, his voice tight. "And I... lost my temper. I threw the napkins. It was unprofessional and unacceptable. I understand that." He didn't look away from her as he spoke. There was no point in excuses.
The woman tapped notes on her tablet, her expression professional but not encouraging. "I see. Thank you for your candor, Fushiguro. While the passenger's initial behavior was certainly aggressive, your response, as I'm sure you'd agree, was inappropriate and does not reflect our policies."
Here we go, Megumi thought bitterly.
"Because of this, when I submit this report, we will likely have to let you-"
"Hold on, there."
She blinked and turned her head. "Captain Sukuna?"
Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, tossing a peanut into his mouth. "A passenger became verbally abusive, violently shoved my flight attendant, and was, what? Given napkins too aggressively?"
She frowned slightly. "Captain, while the passenger's actions were deplorable, airline policy clearly states-"
"Zero tolerance for violence against crew members," Sukuna finished smoothly. He took a step closer, his presence suddenly dominating the small galley space, though his face was passive and calm. "Was that passenger informed, at any point after he laid hands on a member of my crew that his behavior constituted assault? Was he warned that his actions would put him on the no fly list?"
The woman hesitated. "I... don't know for sure, but I don't think so."
"Fushiguro was shoved," Sukuna continued, his voice as light and casual as if they were discussing the weather and not the future of Megumi's career. "That is assault on an airline employee performing their duties. Any disciplinary recommendation for Fushiguro that doesn't acknowledge that he was the victim of an assault will be contested." He popped another peanut. "By me."
Megumi stood frozen, his mind reeling. This wasn't the Sukuna he knew. There was no smirk, no suggestive glance his way. Why was he doing this? Sticking his neck out and pulling rank? Was it just to keep him from getting fired? Or was it something else?
The woman cleared her throat, tapping her tablet screen with slightly less certainty. "I... see your point, Captain. Upon review of the circumstances, particularly the physical escalation by the passenger..." She glanced at Megumi, her expression shifting from stern evaluation to something closer to professional sympathy. "Fushiguro-san, while your response with the napkins was ill-advised, the primary fault lies with the passenger. Given the mitigating circumstances of provocation and self-defense, I will recommend no formal disciplinary action beyond a note on file and mandatory de-escalation refresher training."
Megumi blinked. The crushing weight lifted so suddenly it left him dizzy. He wasn't going to be fired.
"Thank you, ma'am," he managed, his voice somehow steady.
"See that the training is completed within the month. Captain." She gave Sukuna a final, respectful nod and exited the aircraft.
Sukuna crumpled the empty peanut packet and tossed it into the trash can. He turned, finally looking directly at Megumi. Megumi braced himself for the smug comment, the inevitable "You owe me," the lewd suggestion wrapped in this new debt.
"You okay?" Sukuna asked, his voice was devoid of its usual teasing lilt. It was almost... flat. Tired, maybe.
Megumi found his voice. "I... yes, thank you." The words felt inadequate, foreign on his tongue directed at this man. "I thought... I was sure I was fired. You didn't have to do that."
"Don't worry about it," Sukuna said simply. Without another word, without a smirk, without a lingering look, he turned and walked off the plane.
Megumi stood alone with his thoughts. He’d expected Sukuna to seize the moment, to use this vulnerability as leverage, to finally breach his defenses under the guise of having saved him. Instead, Sukuna had simply... walked away.
He must really wanna sleep with me, Megumi concluded. What other reason was there to keep him around?
(Osaka Kansai Airport - Jet Bridge)
The final passenger shuffled off, the jet bridge echoing with the hollow sounds of baggage carts and distant announcements. Megumi pulled his luggage down, the heavy thunk a welcome punctuation mark to another demanding shift as he finally left the plane.
Footsteps sounded behind him, purposeful and hurried. Megumi didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The awareness prickled across his skin like static. He kept walking, gaze fixed on the gate entrance ahead.
"Long day, Fushiguro?" Sukuna’s voice was pitched low, intimate in the echoing tunnel, devoid of its usual performative loudness. He fell into step beside him, matching Megumi’s pace effortlessly. The scent of his cologne, faint now after hours in the air, was upsettingly pleasant.
"Standard," Megumi replied, his tone flat, refusing to glance sideways.
"You know," Sukuna hummed, a low, thoughtful sound. "Watching you work that cart down the aisle all day? It’s a unique kind of torture. Efficiency shouldn’t be that distracting, Megumi. Makes a man forget his altitude."
"You should mind your distractions, Captain," he retorted, his voice tight. "It's standard practice. Be a shame to make a mistake because you couldn't control yourself."
"After all this time working with you," Sukuna chuckled, a dark, warm sound that seemed to curl around Megumi in the narrow space. "You still doubt my control?"
He moved slightly ahead, turning just enough to walk backwards for a few steps, forcing Megumi look at him and the way his uniform was tucked in, highlighting his waist and shoulders.
"Trust me, Fushiguro. There’s nothing standard about the view from the cockpit when you’re bending over to pick up a dropped magazine. Or the way you bite your lip when you’re counting heads." He stopped walking backwards, falling back into step beside Megumi as they neared the terminal entrance. "Makes me wonder what else you bite."
Megumi stopped dead. They were at the threshold of the bustling gate area. He finally turned, fixing Sukuna with a glare that could freeze jet fuel. "Are you quite finished?"
Sukuna met his glare, unfazed. That infuriating half-smirk played on his lips, but his eyes held a heat that was far more than just amusement.
"Finished?" he echoed, his voice dropping again, intimate and challenging. "Not even close, Megumi. The commentary’s just the warm-up. The main event requires a yes to dinner. And since we're both miraculously done at the same time…" Sukuna's voice dropped even lower, almost conspiratorial. "You should let me treat you. Somewhere quiet. Actual food, not reheated mystery meat in a foil tray."
"No," he stated flatly.
Sukuna didn’t look surprised. He took a half-step closer, the distance suddenly intimate. Megumi held his ground, refusing to flinch, but his pulse hammered against his ribs.
"Just dinner, Megumi," Sukuna murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the space between them. "No agenda. No cockpit tours. Just… food. Talk. Off the clock. Two coworkers, getting to know each other a little more."
The simplicity of it, the lack of his usual suggestive leer, was the most disarming tactic yet. For a moment, the automatic 'no' died on Megumi's lips. He imagined it, a quiet restaurant, Sukuna across the table without the uniform, without the artificial pressure of the aircraft cabin. What would they even talk about? What lay beneath the arrogance and the flirting when the performance stopped? Was there something worth exploring here?
Or was Sukuna just trying another approach to get him into bed?
"Where?" The word slipped out, barely a whisper, curiosity winning out in the moment.
Sukuna’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before a slow, real smile touched his lips, not the usual smirk, but something softer, more… hopeful?
"There's a place near the crew hotel. Authentic okonomiyaki. Quiet. Private booths." He paused, holding Megumi’s gaze, the intensity almost physical. "Say yes."
The word 'yes' hovered, terrifyingly close. The image of a private booth, Sukuna’s focused attention, the unknown depths beneath the pilot’s facade swaying his resolve before it snapped back into place.
"I said no, Sukuna," he snapped, the force of his denial aimed as much at himself as the pilot. "Stop asking. It’s never going to happen. Stop wasting your time… and mine." He spun on his heel, marching towards the crew exit sign, his back rigid, ears burning. He didn’t look back.
He didn’t see the way Sukuna’s smile faded, replaced not by amusement or frustration, but by a thoughtful, almost weary disappointment as he watched Megumi retreat. He didn’t see the way Sukuna’s hand flexed slightly at his side before he too turned and walked in the opposite direction, towards the pilot’s briefing room.
(Sendai Airport - Flight Landing)
The flight had been chaotic, turbulence rattling the beverage carts and fraying the nerves of passengers and crew alike. By the time they touched down, thick, oppressive dark clouds had darkened the sky. The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing what they already knew from their own weather alerts: a massive storm was closing in fast. All outbound flights were grounded indefinitely.
A collective groan went through the cabin crew. Megumi just felt a deep, weary resignation. This meant an unplanned layover in a city far from home, in a hotel he hadn’t chosen. He just wanted to sleep.
The first fat drops of rain began to splatter against the jet bridge windows as they made their way off the plane. Two other flight attendants were in the same stranded boat. It was one of them who suggested, “Taxi’s are gonna be a nightmare. We should share one to the nearest airport hotel, yeah?”
Megumi nodded mutely, too tired to argue. He was acutely aware of Sukuna falling into step beside him, a looming, silent presence. They managed to flag down a cab just as the sky opened up, rain sheeting down in a deafening roar. They piled in, Megumi taking the far back seat, Sukuna sliding in next to him, his broad shoulder pressing against Megumi’s in the cramped space. Megumi didn't outwardly react, listening to the pilot making light conversation with the others as he was forced to feel his heat and bask in his scent that Megumi didn't want to like.
The hotel lobby was a zoo of displaced travelers, all talking loudly about canceled flights. The four of them joined the snaking line. Sukuna stood behind Megumi, so close he could feel the breath of his sigh.
“It's a little impressive,” Sukuna murmured, his voice a low rumble meant only for Megumi’s ears. “It took a biblical-level storm to finally get you to go to a hotel with me. I’m almost flattered by the theatrics.”
Megumi stiffened, staring rigidly at the back of his coworker’s head. He refused to grant that comment with a response. He simply stood there, a statue of indifference, while his heart hammered a rebellious rhythm against his ribs.
The other attendants got their room keys without issue and headed for the elevators with weary waves. When it was his turn, Sukuna moved in front of him to greet the person at the desk. Megumi glared and waited behind him.
“Welcome,” the overworked clerk said. “How can I help you?”
“Two rooms, please,” Sukuna said, his pilot’s authority smooth as ever.
Megumi glanced at the back of Sukuna's head. Was he really paying for his room? He better not think that meant that Megumi would let him in. Feining indifference, he scrolled through his phone messages.
“I am so sorry, sir. With the flight cancellations, we’re completely full. I have one room left. A king suite.”
Megumi’s head snapped up from his phone, fully paying attention now. No.
Sukuna looked over his shoulder, eyes locked onto Megumi’s, gleaming with triumphant amusement as he grinned.
“Oh no, did you hear that? Only one bed, darling,” he said, his voice dripping with faux sympathy and open flirtation. “That gonna be okay?”
Megumi couldn’t stand there a second longer. He turned on his heel and stalked away, ignoring Sukuna’s call of “Hey, wait up, sweetheart!” He pushed through the glass doors, back out into the maelstrom.
The rain was still coming down in torrents, a solid wall of water. Lightning split the sky, followed almost instantly by a crack of thunder that vibrated in Megumi’s chest. The street was becoming a river, a couple inches of water swirling around the curb.
He stood under the narrow awning, getting sprayed by the wind-driven rain, but still feeling hot under the collar. A moment later, the door hissed open beside him.
“What are you doing?” Sukuna asked, his voice losing its teasing edge. He held up a keycard. “Got the room.”
“I’m getting a taxi,” Megumi said, his jaw clenched, staring stubbornly into the impenetrable downpour. “There’s gotta be another hotel.”
Sukuna followed his gaze, then looked back at him, his expression shifting. “Megumi. Be reasonable. It’s one night.”
“I am being reasonable,” Megumi shot back, though he knew he wasn’t. “I'm not sharing a room with you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Sukuna said, and his voice was softer now, pragmatic. “It happens all the time in this job. Storms roll in, plans get grounded. I’ve shared rooms with plenty of coworkers. It’s just part of the job.”
Megumi finally turned to look at him, the rain-spray plastering his bangs to his forehead. His voice was flat, cold.
“Yeah? And how many of those coworkers were on the receiving end of your endless inappropriate flirting?”
Sukuna was silent for a beat. Then he moved, stepping directly in front of Megumi, forcing him to meet his gaze. The playful mask was gone, replaced by a startling directness. The amber of his eyes looked almost gold in the reflected hotel light.
“None,” he admitted quietly. “None of them. But I promise you, I will behave myself, you have my word. Hotel rooms have couches, right? I’ll sleep there. You get the big, comfortable, king-sized bed all to yourself. And if I act up, you can kick me out.” He offered a small, lopsided smile that looked close to genuine. “You can trust me.”
Megumi searched his face. For once, there was no smirk, no leer, no hidden agenda dancing in his eyes. He just looked… earnest. And tired. And Megumi realized with a sinking feeling, he was right. He looked out again at the street. There were no taxis. No cars at all. Just flashing neon signs reflecting on the black, flooded pavement.
He glanced back at Sukuna’s waiting, surprisingly patient expression. With a sigh that felt like it came from the very depths of his soul, Megumi relented. “Fine.”
He thought he saw a flicker of triumph in Sukuna’s eyes, but it was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure. Sukuna just nodded and turned back towards the lobby. “Good. Let’s go before we get swept away.”
The room was nicer than he’d expected. And the first thing Megumi’s eyes landed on was the couch. It was small, a two-seater loveseat, upholstered in a garish floral pattern. There was no way Sukuna’s six-foot-plus, broad-shouldered frame was fitting on that without serious spinal contortions. A tiny, vindictive smirk touched Megumi’s lips before he could stop it.
Serves him right.
“I’m showering first,” Megumi announced, claiming the bathroom without waiting for a reply. He needed to wash the day off, to scrub away the feeling of Sukuna’s shoulder against his, the sound of him calling him ‘darling’ in that crowded lobby.
The hot water was a blessing. He took his time, lingering until the steam filled the room and his skin was pink. When he emerged from the bathroom, the room was empty. A flicker of… something… went through him. Had Sukuna gone back down to the desk? Trying to see into getting another room? The thought was unexpectedly disappointing, which was absurd. Dressed in his sleep pants and a t-shirt, he slid into the vast bed, pulling out his phone to create a barrier of normalcy.
He was scrolling through meaningless news headlines when the door finally clicked open. Sukuna stumbled in, his pilot’s shirt untucked, his cheeks flushed. He carried the scent of whiskey with him. He’d found the hotel bar.
“You good?” Megumi asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Sukuna just grunted and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of the shower starting up again sent an unwelcome, heated jolt through Megumi. The thought of Sukuna showering was quickly put out of his mind. But it was a weird feeling. Megumi was lying in a bed, waiting for him. It was almost domestic, intimate in a way that made his stomach clench. It felt like they were a couple on vacation.
The thought was so bizarre he almost laughed. Did Sukuna even do 'domestic'? Did he get to know partners long enough to go on vacations with them, or did he just… sleep around? Given how long he had pursued Megumi, he guessed the latter.
For the first time, Megumi wondered. How long would Sukuna keep this up? This one-sided back and forth? Chasing him and getting nothing in return? He immediately chastised himself.
It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t care.
Sukuna emerged some time later, a cloud of steam following him. He wore only a pair of black boxers, and Megumi’s breath hitched. He was all muscle, defined and powerful lines, water droplets still clinging to his tanned skin. He didn’t even glance at Megumi, just stumbled to the pathetic little couch and collapsed onto it with a groan. His legs dangled comically over one armrest.
Megumi sneered, the easiest emotion to grasp onto. “You’re not even going to grab a blanket?”
“‘M fine," Sukuna waved a dismissive hand, his face buried in the floral upholstery as the whiskey slurred his words. "S'warm in here. Go to sleep, Me'mi.”
Megumi felt an off fondness, seeing Sukuna this way, and tried not to let his eyes trace the lines of Sukuna’s back, the curve of his shoulder. He swallowed hard and reached over to click off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness broken only by the occasional flash of lightning and the steady drumbeat of rain on the window.
He couldn’t sleep. The room was too hot, the air thick with the residual heat from Sukuna’s shower and the scent of his clean skin. He lay rigid on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the storm and Sukuna’s occasional shifting. After what felt like an eternity, he heard Sukuna get up and walk towards him. Megumi held his breath, his body tensing. Was he coming to the bed? A part of him, a deep, hidden, shameful part, hoped he was. He almost imagined the dip of the mattress, the weight of him…
But the footsteps stopped. There was a soft thud, and a sigh of relief, as Sukuna settled next to him… on the floor.
Megumi clicked the lamp back on, an open look of disgust on his face as he peered over the side of the mattress. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?" Sukuna blinked up at him from the carpet, holding up a hand to block the light. "That couch is a torture device designed by a vengeful gnome.”
“At least put a sheet down,” Megumi grimaced, his voice sharper than he intended. “The floors in these places are disgusting. You have no idea what’s been on that carpet.”
Sukuna shrugged, folding his arms behind his head. “Why do you care, Fushiguro? I’m the one on the floor.”
And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why did he care? He shouldn’t. He should let the infuriating man get a backful of carpet fungus and be done with it. But the image of him lying there, almost naked on the dirty floor, was somehow… unbearable. It felt wrong.
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Megumi finally muttered, the admission feeling like a defeat. “Knowing you’re festering in the filth down there.”
Sukuna just laughed, a low, warm sound. “Didn’t know you were such a clean freak.” He made no move to get up.
Megumi gritted his teeth. “Go shower again, and rinse off. Then you can… you can get on the bed. Over the blanket.”
Sukuna laughed again, but this time he pushed himself up. He didn’t go to the shower, however, he just got up and, before Megumi could protest, plopped down hard on the other side of the bed, making Megumi bounce. He scowled, shoving at Sukuna’s shoulder.
“What are you doing? I said shower! And stay on your own side!”
“Too tired,” Sukuna mumbled, already rolling onto his side, facing Megumi. “Stop being such a princess and go to sleep.”
Megumi huffed, furious, but exhausted. He clicked the light off again, the darkness feeling a thousand times more intimate now than before.
Sukuna was laying next to him. He could feel the heat from his body mere inches away. Megumi tried to lie perfectly still, tried to control his breathing, tried so hard not to think about the fact that Ryomen Sukuna was almost naked in his bed.
He failed.
After a long while, he dared to glance over. The storm had lessened slightly, and a sliver of light from a streetlamp outside cut through a gap in the curtains, illuminating Sukuna’s face. In sleep, all the arrogance and sharp edges were smoothed away. He looked… soft. Younger. Peaceful. Megumi’s eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, the slope of his neck, the surprisingly long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He hated to admit it, but Sukuna was kind of… beautiful.
His eyes were tracing the bridge of Sukuna’s nose when he realized those amber eyes were open, watching him. Megumi internally jumped, a violent blush scorching its way across his face and down his neck.
He’d been caught.
“Don't stare at me,” Megumi snapped, the words coming out too high, too defensive.
Sukuna didn’t look away. He just laughed softly, the sound intimate in the dark. “Can’t help it. You’re nice to look at.” His voice was a sleepy murmur. “You know, if you're having trouble sleeping, I can help with that.”
Humiliated and flustered, Megumi grabbed his spare pillow and whacked him with it. “Don’t even think about it.”
Sukuna caught the pillow easily, his laugh deepening. “I meant I have a sleeping pill in my bag, you perv. What did you think I meant?”
Megumi didn't asnwer, he simply rolled onto his side to put his back to Sukuna, his heart hammering.
But he felt Sukuna shift behind him, moving closer until the heat of him was suddenly right there. Megumi could feel the whisper of his breath on the nape of his neck when he spoke again, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “You know, for someone who hates me so much, you were staring pretty hard…”
“I was wondering how much dirt you brought into my bed.”
“Admit it," Sukuna whispered, lips so close to Megumi's ear. "You think I’m handsome.”
“Maybe you should go back to the floor.” Megumi closed his eyes, and wondered if he ignored Sukuna, he'd shut up and go to sleep.
He felt it then. The lightest, most fleeting touch. A single finger, tracing a slow, deliberate line down the sensitive skin of his neck, from his hairline to the collar of his t-shirt where he knew he was burning.
It was an electric shock. A spark that ignited every nerve ending.
Megumi snapped. He turned over in a furious rush, rolling on top of Sukuna, straddling him and pinning his shoulders to the mattress.
“Is this what you want?” he bit out, his voice raw and shaking with a torrent of frustration, attraction, and sheer exhaustion. “If I just fuck you, will you get it out of your system? Will you finally stop and leave me the hell alone?”
Sukuna didn’t struggle. His hands came up, not to push Megumi away, but to settle on his hips, his grip firm and grounding. His eyes, even in the dim light, were deadly serious.
“No,” he said, the word simple and absolute. “Definitely not.”
Megumi stilled, confusion cutting through his anger.
“Whether you fuck me or not,” Sukuna continued, his thumbs making small, distracting circles on Megumi’s hip bones through his sleep pants. “I’m never gonna let up. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. More than I wanted to be a pilot. And I’ll take you any way I can get you. As a casual fuck. As a committed partner. Or just as the pissed-off flight attendant who ignores me for the next forty years. I don’t care. As long as I get to be near you.”
The raw, unfiltered honesty of it stole the air from Megumi’s lungs. All the flirtation, all the teasing, the moments Megumi thought bordered on harassment… was this all it was about? Sukuna wanting to get closer to him? Megumi leaned back slightly, still skeptical.
“Why,” he breathed, the anger gone, replaced by bewilderment. “Why did you never say that before? Why have you always been so…?” He gestured vaguely, encompassing all the lewd comments and smirks.
“Didn’t know if you were interested in more," Sukuna shrugged beneath him, a small movement. "You never gave me anything to work with. But if love confessions are the trick…” A familiar, wicked grin returned to his face, though his eyes remained soft. “I can definitely make that work. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Fushiguro Megumi. I’ve been pining for you since the first time I saw you scowling at a safety manual. You’re captivating. You’re- mmph!”
"Stop," Megumi slapped a hand over Sukuna's mouth, his face burning. “Stop it. That’s worse. That’s so much worse.”
Sukuna laughed against his palm, the vibration tingling up Megumi’s arm. He squirmed, easily wresting Megumi’s hand away, fighting to grab his wrists and keep Megumi's hands away from his mouth. “What? You don’t like being called captivating? My gorgeous, brilliant, devastatingly sexy little-“
It wasn't exactly a fight, the way Megumi kept trying to cover his mouth and almost slapping him, and Sukuna straining to hold his wrists away from his face. It was too much, he couldn't keep listening to this.
There was only one way to shut him up.
Megumi leaned down and crushed his mouth to Sukuna’s.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a collision that released of months of pent-up tension. Sukuna froze for a fraction of a second, stunned into rare silence, before his hands released Megumi’s wrists and came up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a desperate, hungry intensity that stole what little breath Megumi had left. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one finally breaking inside the room.
Megumi pulled back first, breathing ragged, his chest heaving. The pilot lay beneath him, dazed, his lips already looking kiss-swollen and bruised. A slow, triumphant smirk was starting to form on his face, the arrogant bastard already claiming victory.
It was the last thing Megumi wanted to see.
He shoved Sukuna’s shoulders back down into the mattress, hard. The smirk vanished, replaced by surprise.
“Don’t,” Megumi warned, his voice a low, dangerous rasp he barely recognized as all the frustration from the past year suddenly burned within him. “Don’t you dare look at me like you’ve won something.”
Sukuna’s amber eyes, dark with desire, flickered with confusion. “Megumi-”
“You,” Megumi interrupted, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. “Have been the most insufferable, arrogant, boundary-ignoring pain in my ass for months. You have driven me crazy.” He punctuated the last word with a sharp roll of his hips, grinding down against the hard length straining against Sukuna’s briefs. Sukuna’s breath hitched, a choked-off gasp escaping him. “You don’t get to smirk. You don’t get to be smug. Not tonight.”
A new kind of heat flashed in Sukuna’s eyes. Interest. Challenge.
“Oh yeah?” he breathed, his own voice rough. “What do I get, then?”
Megumi’s smile was cold, a predator’s baring of teeth. “You get to lie there. And you get to take it.” He slid off Sukuna’s lap, kneeling between his thighs. “This isn’t for you. This is for me. This is me finally taking all that frustration out on you.”
Before Sukuna could respond, Megumi hooked his fingers into the waistband of his black boxer briefs and yanked them down in one swift, decisive motion. Sukuna’s cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already leaking. Megumi’s gaze raked over it, a clinical, assessing look. Sukuna, for perhaps the first time since Megumi had known him, looked completely exposed and vulnerable.
“Megumi-” Sukuna began, starting to push himself up on his elbows.
“Did I say you could move?” Megumi’s voice was like a whip crack. He placed a hand flat on Sukuna’s chest and pushed him back down. Sukuna sank back onto the mattress, his eyes wide. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot through Megumi. Sukuna was listening, and it felt good.
He leaned down, but instead of taking Sukuna into his mouth, he blew a soft, cool stream of air over the slick head. Sukuna jolted as if electrocuted, a full-body shudder wracking his frame. A broken, desperate sound tore from his throat.
“Please…”
“Please what?” Megumi asked, his tone light, almost conversational. He ghosted his lips along the length, never quite making contact. “You’re going to have to be more specific. You’re usually so good with words, Captain.”
“Fuck, Megumi, that's…" Sukuna stalled like he had forgotten how to form sentences, his eyes wild. "Use your mouth. Please.”
The begging was a melody sweeter than Megumi could have imagined. He finally, finally took the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue slowly, lazily, around the crown. Sukuna gasped out, his hips twitching upward, seeking more.
Megumi pulled off immediately. “I said,” he growled, pressing down on Sukuna’s hips, pinning him to the bed. “Don’t. Move.”
Sukuna groaned, a sound of pure agony. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
Megumi dipped his head again, this time taking him deeper, but still maintaining a maddeningly slow, teasing pace. He used only his mouth and tongue, his hands braced on Sukuna’s hips, holding him down, controlling everything Sukuna got to feel. He would lavish attention on the head until Sukuna was trembling, then sink down until he hit the back of his throat, holding still until Sukuna’s breathing became ragged gasps, then pulled back to the tip again.
It didn't take long before Sukuna was a wreck. His hands were fisted in the sheets, his knuckles white. Pleasures and pleas fell from his lips in a continuous, shattered stream.
“God, yes, just like that- no, please, don’t stop… Megumi, I need… fuck, I need to touch you, please let me touch you…”
“No.”
The word was firm, absolute. Was he really supposed to stop enjoying himself just because Sukuna asked? Did Sukuna ever stop because Megumi asked?
Megumi released him with a wet pop, sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Sukuna was panting, his chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, the muscles tense and standing out, his cock aching and neglected. He looked kind of pathetic. Megumi thought it suited him.
“You don’t get to touch me,” Megumi stated, peeling his own t-shirt over his head and shoving his sleep pants down his legs. “Not until I say so.” He got up and grabbed Sukuna's bag from where it sat on the table.
"I know you brought something," Megumi said lightly over his shoulder. He he glanced up, he felt a rush of smugness to see Sukuna hadn't moved. Good boy. "You probably always have it on you, just in case. Where is it?"
Sukuna told him the pocket his lube and condoms were and Megumi returned to the bed and slicked his fingers.
Sukuna’s eyes, glazed with need, tracked the movement.
“Let me,” he begged, his voice raw. “Please, let me do it. God, I've thought about it so many times, let me prep you. I'll make it so good, I promise-”
“I prep myself,” Megumi said, his voice indifferent and final. He laid on his back away from Sukuna, getting comfortable with his legs open in front of him, letting Sukuna see everything he was doing. An act of deliberate denial of the intimacy facing him. He worked a finger inside himself, his breath catching at the stretch. It had been a while. He heard Sukuna make a choked, hungry sound somewhere in front of him.
“You have no idea how good you look right now,” Sukuna rasped. “Fuck, Megumi…”
Megumi added a second finger, scissoring them, stretching himself open.
His own cock was hard and leaking against his stomach, but he ignored it. This wasn’t about his pleasure yet. This was about something more. It was about reducing an arrogant, teasing, overconfident pilot to a begging, pleading mess. He took his time with it, adding a third and enjoying the almost-whimper Sukuna made when Megumi moaned, rolling his hips against his hand. He took longer than he needed, much longer. When he was stretched and ready, he moved back over Sukuna's body, finally looking at him when he was seated above his cock. Sukuna’s eyes were wild, devouring him.
“Condom,” Megumi demanded, holding out his hand. The wrapper had landed next to Sukuna's hip. He could easily grab it himself, but waited for Sukuna to do it. The man's hand was shaking so badly he almost dropped the packet as he handed it over.
He sheathed Sukuna, keeping his touch clinical, not letting his hand linger. Without a word, he positioned himself, the head of Sukuna’s cock pressing against his entrance. When he looked down, he saw Sukuna’s desperate, awe-struck gaze.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Megumi asked, his voice dangerously soft.
“Yes,” Sukuna breathed, his hands coming up to hover at Megumi’s hips, desperate to touch but terrified to disobey. “God, yes.”
“Careful what you ask for.”
And he sank down.
It was a slow, excruciating, perfect descent. Megumi took him inch by agonizing inch, his own face a mask of intense concentration, his inner muscles clenching and fluttering as he stretched to accommodate Sukuna’s size. He didn’t look away from Sukuna’s face, watching every flicker of overwhelming sensation, the shock, the desperation, the sheer, unbearable ecstasy of it.
When he was fully seated, he paused, letting them both adjust. It felt good, so fucking good, better than he thought it would, and he had thought about it a lot. He could admit that to himself, now. He had wanted to fuck Sukuna for so long, all that frustration and tension building up and driving him mad. So many nights taking it out on his fist or a toy. But not he had the real thing under him. Now he got to be the one to drive Sukuna mad.
He rolled his hips in a tiny, circular motion, wringing a broken sob from the man beneath him.
“Please,” Sukuna whimpered, tears of frustration and pleasure welling in the corners of his eyes. “Megumi, please move. I can’t… I need you to move.”
Megumi smiled, a slow, cruel, beautiful thing. He placed his hands on Sukuna’s chest for leverage, his nails digging in just enough to sting.
“You need?” he repeated, as Sukuna nodded. “You don’t get to need. You get to take what I give you.”
And he began to move.
He set a torturously slow pace, rising until Sukuna was almost entirely out of him, then sinking back down. He controlled every aspect, the angle, the depth, the rhythm. He was riding Sukuna not only for his own pleasure, but because he wanted to take the man apart. He found a position and movement that made Sukuna’s eyes roll back in his head and realized he was already almost there.
Only once did Sukuna make the mistake of grabbing Megumi's waist, trying to pull Megumi down harder, trying to thrust up harder into him. Megumi slapped him, then grabbed his face and told him if he tried that again, Megumi would stop. The way Sukuna looked at him, he would have thought he had seen the light of heaven, his eyes wide, almost laughing with manic fever.
Sukuna was a mess of guttural moans, choked pleas, and shuddering tremors. His hands gripped the sheets as if they were the only thing tethering him to reality. He was powerful, muscular, and completely at Megumi’s mercy.
“I… I didn’t know,” Sukuna gasped out, his hips twitching helplessly, trying so hard not to thrust up into that maddening, perfect heat. “I didn’t know you could be like this… so fucking mean… I love it… I love it so much…”
The admission sent a fresh wave of power crashing through Megumi. He dug his nails into Sukuna's chest and increased his pace slightly, his own breath starting to come in short, sharp gasps as his pleasure began to coil tight. He could feel Sukuna trembling beneath him, teetering on the very edge.
“You’re close,” Megumi stated, his voice breathy but still laced with control. He slowed again, drawing out the agony. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say you can.”
A sound of pure despair escaped Sukuna. “I can’t… please, Megumi, let me… I need to cum, please, I’ll do anything…”
Megumi leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Sukuna’s head. His movements became faster, deeper, more purposeful. His own release was imminent, a storm about to break.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Sukuna’s eyes, hazy and unfocused, struggled to obey.
“You drove me crazy,” Megumi panted, driving down onto him with punishing force. “Now it’s your turn.” He reached between them, fisting his own cock. “And you're gonna wait.”
Sukuna obeyed and that all it took. Megumi threw his head back and came with a sharp cry, stripes of white painting Sukuna’s chest and stomach as he rode out the waves of his own climax. Eyes closed, he felt how hard Sukuna was shaking, waiting for permission, waiting to be allowed to follow him over.
Apart of Megumi wanted to deny him still, and he smirked at the thought of Sukuna crying himself to sleep, all needy and panting. Instead he bent down and kissed him, enjoying one last look at the desperation in his eyes.
"You can cum."
It was the permission Sukuna’s shattered body was waiting for. With a ragged, broken cry that was more sob than shout, Sukuna came, his back arching off the bed as he spilled into the condom in violent, pulsing waves. Megumi almost fell off, he was bucking so hard. But his hands stayed off. Even now, he still listened.
Very good boy.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the fading echo of the storm outside. Slowly, Megumi collapsed forward, catching himself on his elbows above Sukuna. He was spent, every muscle trembling with exertion and aftershocks as he left Sukuna leave his body.
Beneath him, Sukuna was boneless, wrecked, his eyes closed. A slow, dazed, fully blissed-out smile spread across his face.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. He cracked open an eye to look at Megumi, awe and a new, strange respect shining in his eyes. “You… are a lot more than I bargained for, Fushiguro Megumi.”
Megumi, for the first time all night, allowed himself a small, genuine smile. He had taken the infuriating pilot apart piece by piece. And it had been everything he’d needed.
“I know,” he said, and finally, he let his weight settle fully on top of the man who had, at long last, learned his place.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.