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The moon hung fat and low over the Ryomen estate, turning the koi pond silver and the engawa into a long stripe of shadow and temptation.
Yuuta was already shaking when Yuuji tugged him through the shoji screen and slid it shut with one bare foot. The room smelled of cedar, clean tatami, and the faint musk that always clung to Yuuji after training, sweat and iron and something darker, something that made Yuuta’s cunt clench before Yuuji even touched him.
“You’re late,” Yuuta whispered, voice cracking on the last syllable. He was still wearing the pale blue yukata Gojo had chosen for him, delicate, expensive, the kind of garment meant to announce “untouchable heir” rather than “secretly getting railed by the King of Curses’ firstborn every night for six months.”
Yuuji didn’t answer with words.
He answered by crowding Yuuta back against the low table until the edge bit into the backs of Yuuta’s thighs, then hooking two fingers into the obi and yanking. Fabric parted like wet paper. Yuuta’s breath punched out when cool air hit skin already flushed and damp between his legs.
“Yuuji,”
“Quiet.” Yuuji’s mouth was on his throat, teeth scraping the pulse point hard enough to bruise. “You’ve been whining in my ear all day about how empty you feel. Don’t start pretending now.”
Yuuta’s hands flew to Yuuji’s shoulders, nails digging crescent moons through the thin black kosode. “If anyone hears,”
“They’ll hear you come so loud they’ll think the palace is under attack.” Yuuji dragged his tongue up the column of Yuuta’s neck, tasting salt and fear-sweat. “And they’ll know exactly who’s making you scream.”
Yuuta’s knees buckled. Yuuji caught him under the thighs and lifted like he weighed nothing, because to Yuuji he didn’t. One step, two, and Yuuta’s back hit the futon. Yuuji followed, knees bracketing Yuuta’s hips, pinning him down with sheer body heat.
“Look at you,” Yuuji murmured, voice gone gravel-rough. He shoved the yukata open the rest of the way, baring Yuuta from collarbone to cunt. The soft black hair between Yuuta’s thighs was already slick, glistening in the lantern light. Yuuji groaned like he’d been punched. “So fucking wet already. You walk around all prim and perfect for your father, but the second you’re alone with me this little pussy starts crying for cock.”
Yuuta turned his face into the pillow, cheeks burning. “Stop talking like that.”
“Why?” Yuuji slid one thick finger through the seam of Yuuta’s folds, slow, deliberate, gathering slick until it coated him to the second knuckle. “You love it. You get so tight every time I say filthy things.”
He pressed inside.
Yuuta arched with a broken moan, thighs falling open wider on instinct. Yuuji added a second finger immediately, no preamble, no gentleness, just the thick stretch Yuuta had learned to crave. Yuuji crooked them, dragging over that spot that made Yuuta’s vision white out.
“Yuuji, please,”
“Please what, baby?” Yuuji’s free hand pinned Yuuta’s hip to the futon so he couldn’t squirm away. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop until I’ve fucked you stupid?”
Yuuta’s answer was a sob and a roll of his hips, chasing the pressure.
Yuuji laughed low against his ear. “That’s what I thought.”
He worked a third finger in on the next thrust. Yuuta’s cunt fluttered, trying to take it, trying to push it out, trying to keep it, all at once. Yuuji didn’t let up. He pumped slow and deep, wrist twisting on every withdrawal so the knuckles dragged against Yuuta’s swollen entrance.
“You’re opening so pretty for me,” Yuuji breathed. “Gonna take four tonight. Maybe my whole hand if you’re good.”
Yuuta’s eyes flew wide. “Yuuji, no, I can’t,”
“You can.” Yuuji pressed the pad of his thumb against Yuuta’s clit at the same time he pushed the fourth finger inside. Yuuta’s back bowed, a raw cry tearing out of him before he could muffle it against his own arm. “You were made for this. Made for me.”
Tears slipped down Yuuta’s temples into his hair. His cunt was so full it hurt, good hurt, the kind that made his toes curl and his thighs shake. Yuuji’s fingers were thick, callused from years of gripping cursed tools, and every ridge and knuckle felt obscene inside him.
Yuuji watched his own hand disappear between Yuuta’s legs with something close to reverence.
“Look how greedy this pussy is,” he murmured. “Swallowing me up like it’s starving. You’re dripping down my wrist, Yuuta. Gonna make a mess all over the futon.”
Yuuta couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could only pant and tremble while Yuuji slowly, carefully tucked his thumb against his palm and began to push.
The stretch was impossible.
Yuuta’s mouth opened on a silent scream. His nails raked down Yuuji’s back, leaving red lines through fabric. Yuuji hissed but didn’t stop. He rocked his hand in tiny increments, letting Yuuta’s body adjust millimeter by millimeter.
“Breathe,” Yuuji whispered, lips brushing Yuuta’s tear-streaked cheek. “Breathe for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”
Yuuta sucked in a ragged breath. Another. The widest part of Yuuji’s knuckles breached him and suddenly, suddenly, Yuuji’s hand was inside.
All of it.
Yuuta’s vision blurred. His cunt clamped down so hard Yuuji groaned like he’d been struck. Heat roared through Yuuta’s body, pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.
Yuuji held perfectly still, letting Yuuta feel every inch, every finger curled inside him, the impossible fullness that made his belly bulge just slightly under the skin.
“Fuck,” Yuuji breathed, voice wrecked. “Look at that. My whole hand in your little cunt. You’re taking me so deep, baby.”
Yuuta’s hips jerked involuntarily. The movement dragged Yuuji’s knuckles over every sensitive spot at once. He came with a choked sob, walls spasming around Yuuji’s fist, slick gushing out around the thick wrist buried inside him.
Yuuji didn’t pull out.
He waited until the aftershocks faded, then slowly, agonizingly, curled his fingers into a loose fist.
Yuuta’s eyes rolled back.
“Again,” Yuuji said softly. “Come again on my fist. Let me feel how much you love being stretched like this.”
He rocked his hand in tiny circles. Not thrusting, just grinding, pressing, letting the heel of his palm rub Yuuta’s clit while his knuckles massaged that spot inside that made Yuuta see stars.
Yuuta’s thighs trembled violently. His hands scrabbled at Yuuji’s shoulders, at the futon, at nothing. “Yuuji, Yuuji, too much, gonna,”
“Do it,” Yuuji growled. “Come all over my hand. Soak me. Mark me.”
Yuuta shattered.
This time he screamed, raw, broken, loud enough that someone in the next wing probably heard. His cunt pulsed and fluttered and gushed, slick running down Yuuji’s forearm in obscene rivulets. Yuuji kept moving through it, slow and relentless, drawing the orgasm out until Yuuta was sobbing, oversensitive, begging incoherently.
Only then did Yuuji ease his hand free, inch by torturous inch, watching the way Yuuta’s entrance gaped for a heartbeat before trying to close, puffy and red and dripping.
Yuuji’s cock was so hard it hurt, leaking steadily against his thigh. He hadn’t touched himself once. Hadn’t needed to. Watching Yuuta fall apart on his fist was better than any stroke.
He leaned down and kissed Yuuta slow, filthy, tasting tears and desperation.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured against swollen lips. “So fucking perfect.”
Yuuta’s arms wrapped around Yuuji’s neck, trembling. “Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Want you inside me. Want your cock now.”
Yuuji groaned. “Greedy little thing.”
He flipped Yuuta onto his stomach in one smooth motion, tugged his hips up until Yuuta was presented, ass in the air, cunt still gaping and slick and swollen from being fisted.
Yuuji notched himself at the entrance and pushed in one long, slow stroke.
Yuuta keened into the pillow.
Yuuji bottomed out with a guttural sound. Yuuta was so wet, so open, that there was almost no resistance, just slick heat and the obscene squelch of Yuuji’s cock sliding home.
“Feel that?” Yuuji rasped, hips flush against Yuuta’s ass. “That’s my cock in the same cunt I just fisted open. You’re so loose and sloppy for me right now. Bet I could fit both if I tried.”
Yuuta whimpered, pushing back, trying to take more.
Yuuji laughed darkly and started to move, long, punishing strokes that dragged every ridge over Yuuta’s sensitive walls. Each thrust shoved Yuuta forward on the futon, yukata tangled around his elbows, hair sticking to his sweaty face.
“Gonna breed you,” Yuuji growled, one hand fisting Yuuta’s hair to arch his back. “Fill this greedy pussy up until it’s dripping with me. Everyone will smell it on you tomorrow. Gojo will know. My father will know. And they still won’t be able to do a damn thing about it because you’re already mine.”
Yuuta came again, sudden, violent, clenching so hard around Yuuji’s cock that Yuuji’s rhythm stuttered.
“Fuck, Yuuta,”
Yuuji slammed in one last time and spilled deep, hips jerking with each pulse. He kept grinding through it, forcing every drop as far inside as he could.
When he finally pulled out, a thick gush of cum followed, running down Yuuta’s thighs. Yuuji watched it with dark satisfaction, then flipped Yuuta onto his back again.
Yuuta was wrecked, lips bitten raw, cheeks streaked with tears, cunt puffy and leaking, thighs shaking.
Yuuji leaned down and licked a slow stripe up the mess between Yuuta’s legs, tasting himself and Yuuta together.
Yuuta shuddered, too sensitive to do anything but whine.
Yuuji crawled back up and kissed him, letting Yuuta taste them both on his tongue.
“Mine,” Yuuji whispered against his mouth.
Yuuta’s arms wrapped around him again, clinging.
“Yours,” he breathed.
Outside, the moon kept shining, indifferent.
Inside, two boys who should have been enemies curled into each other like the world could burn and they wouldn’t care, as long as they burned together.
Yuuji pressed his forehead to Yuuta’s.
“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “I’m telling my father I want the wedding date moved up. No more waiting.”
Yuuta’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft.
“And if he says no?”
Yuuji’s smile was all teeth and promise.
“Then I’ll fuck you in the great hall during the next clan meeting. Right on the table. Until they have no choice but to agree.”
Yuuta laughed, weak, breathless, but real.
“You’re insane.”
“I’m yours.”
Yuuta pulled him down for another kiss, slow and sweet this time.
“Prove it again,” he whispered.
Yuuji grinned against his lips.
“Gladly.”
And the night stretched on, filthy, desperate, perfect, while somewhere in the distance two very powerful men slept, blissfully unaware that their sons had already chosen each other over bloodlines, over clans, over war.
They’d chosen this.
And nothing, not even death, would take it away.