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Warmth. That's the most intense thing Megumi feels right now. He's pressed against the end of the bathtub, head resting on Yuuji’s shoulder, who is settled between Megumi’s legs, and his skin pulses in a delicious burn at every point of contact between them.
Yuuji lathers his hands in body wash, running them up and down Megumi’s back, tracing the dips of his shoulder blades, the contours of his muscles, and the puckered scars littered across them. Yuuji’s hands are firm, pressing into the knots in his back, his nails softly scratch over his skin, and Megumi swears he has never felt something more real in his life.
Completely unconsciously, Megumi’s hands lifted from where they had been folded in his lap to press into Yuuji’s chest. Not pushing, never pushing, just splayed across the other’s pectorals, like if he focused hard enough, his hands could melt into the skin and they could stay like this forever.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful, he thinks to himself. To be completely joined at the seams, for the folds of Yuuji’s body to dissolve into Megumi’s, to be locked in this embrace forever, a word that normally feels crushing in its implications, but that suddenly feels a lot easier when he thinks about spending it like this, with Yuuji, only Yuuji.
When Megumi thinks about it, it’s always been Yuuji.
From the first moment the two of them had met, when he had looked at Yuuji, someone more fiery, selfless, and alive than he had ever seen before, and decided that, moral code be damned, he had to protect him, to this moment, where he felt nothing but Yuuji’s presence squeezed into his soul, his life has revolved around the boy in a way he never could imagine possible.
Megumi lifts his head off of the other’s shoulder and drags it up Yuuji’s neck, nuzzling his head into the junction where his throat and jaw meet. Distantly, Megumi feels Yuuji laugh, saying something about being ticklish, and Megumi’s heart swells with affection so strong he’s worried it’ll make him implode.
He slowly returns to reality, where Yuuji has washed the soap off him, and is now rubbing circles into the small of his back.
Megumi twists his torso, grabbing onto Yuuji’s wrists and pulling them to his front, sliding his hands up to intertwine their fingers. Megumi brings both of Yuuji’s hands to his lips in an open mouthed kiss, feeling the way Yuuji tenses under the tender touch. Gentleness isn’t something either of them are used to. If Megumi had the time, he’d do this to every inch of Yuuji’s body, to feel each twitch of muscle and breathe in every molecule of scent Yuuji had to offer.
He feels Yuuji shudder under his ministrations, and he lifts his head upon the sound of Yuuji saying his name
“Are you ok?” Yuuji’s head is tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.
“‘m fine.”
“Yer quiet,” Yuuji hesitates, seeming to remember that this is extremely normal for Megumi. “Well, quieter than usual. You were barely moving earlier.”
“Just thinking,” Megumi, brings his face into Yuuji’s inner wrist, breathing in the faded scent of his cologne, something woody and warm that Yuuji swears makes him smell “grown up”, even if he sprays enough on himself to kill an elephant.
“Thinking about what?”
Megumi doesn’t know how to put it into words, his thoughts are much too muddled and obsessive, so he settles for a question, the simplest his mind can come up with.
“Do you ever wish we could be…closer?”
“I think we’re pretty close right now,” Yuuji gestures to their current position, completely wrapped around each other.
“I mean, more than this.”
Upon seeing the confusion on Yuuji’s face, Megumi pauses, trying to find the right way to possibly sum up the colossal love that has wormed its way into every gap of his body.
“I wish I could live inside you,” He removes one hand from where it was interlaced with Yuuji’s to trace the other’s ribcage, counting each jut of bone as he moves up. “Sometimes I look at you and it hurts because I know that no matter how much I love you, just touching will never be enough. I want more, and I know I can’t–” He cuts himself off, pulling Yuuji impossibly closer.
“You can’t what?”
Megumi’s brow furrows.
“I dunno.”
One, two, three, Megumi counts Yuuji’s ribs going down until he reaches seven, shifting his hand back to his chest, starting the count over.
Yuuji’s voice has lowered to a whisper, a contrast from how loud he normally speaks, like he’s afraid he’ll scare Megumi away. Moments like these, when Megumi opens himself up for Yuuji are rare and fleeting. He threads a hand through Megumi’s damp hair.
“I want it too,” Yuuji breathes out, his eyes wide, unblinking, drilled into Megumi’s own. “I feel like that’s fucked up to say.”
“Do couples normally want this?”
Yuuji laughs, but it sounds more like a breathless sigh.
“I don't know if I’d call us a normal couple.”
Megumi hums in response. He supposes they’ve been through too much to ever be normal.
Yuuji shifts wordlessly, slowly wrapping his arms around Megumi’s shoulders, hauling him into an embrace. He nestles his head underneath Megumi’s chin and his fingers curl into his back, nails digging in almost hard enough to hurt, squeezing the skin. Megumi shuffles himself downwards, slinging his legs over Yuuji’s spine, ankles crossed and hands pressing Yuuji down farther and farther, the heat between them throbbing, their pulses syncing into one. The outside world isn’t a thought anymore, the threat of curses and inevitability of their next fight feels insignificant when compared to the importance of this current moment. Yuuji’s breath tickles Megumi’s collarbones and his hair is pressed into Megumi’s nose, and if he could only smell this for the rest of his life Megumi would be a happy man. The caress of Yuuji’s breath is replaced by the scraping of his teeth on his clavicle, a bite which is soon soothed by an apologetic kiss.
Megumi’s gaze imperceptibly darkens into something more possessive, quietly grateful he is the only one Yuuji can do this to, grateful that this feeling, this loving, is his and his alone.
Not an inch of space remains between them anymore and Megumi thinks that if he squints hard enough he’d be able to see the colors of their souls blended into one, a thought that he serenely entertains. He wonders what color the mix would be.
Yuuji is pressing kisses to every inch of his torso now, head tilted to get access to every nook and cranny present on his body until his chin is submerged in the soapy water of the tub and he has to lift it up for air. The dedication and desire in his touch causes a pang in Megumi’s heart, a strange yearning, despite the fact Yuuji is completely in reach. He dips his head, meeting Yuuji’s gaze. Yuuji is the first to speak
“Megs?”
Megumi can’t even focus on what Yuuji is saying. The love he feels for him in this moment is desperate and devastating in its intensity, and it felt less like love and more like a twisted disease that had settled itself across every inch of his skin, like snow gathering on a roof until it breaks under the weight, destructive by nature but beautiful in some sick, unconventional way.
Shit, Yuuji is trying to talk to him.
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re squeezing me.”
Megumi looks down at his arms, which are wrapped tightly around Yuuji's waist. Yuuji’s skin is made white by the pressure, which Megumi slowly releases, though not fully dropping his arms.
He leans forward to give Yuuji an apologetic peck on the lips, whispering a “sorry” as he pulls away.
They remain in that tub for what could have been hours, Megumi has lost track of the time and is content with this fact. Laying in this tub for the rest of eternity seems like a viable and satisfying option to the boy, and if Yuuji would allow him he’d like to see just how long the two could stay in here before Nobara or Gojo came in wondering if they’d drowned. Drowning while wrapped together with Yuuji doesn't sound like too bad of a fate, but Megumi didn’t know if he’d be able to let Yuuji go that easily. He would take a million bullets, fight off an ocean of curses, die over and over, just to ensure the safety of the boy in front of him. The object of his affection, the victim of his obsession, though he doesn’t know how much he likes that label.
Yuuji’s hand moves to trace his jaw, tucking a wet strand of hair behind his ear.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Megumi doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he turns his quickly reddening face away.
“You say that a lot.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.”
He wonders what he did to deserve Yuuji. Another moment of comfortable silence falls upon them.
“We should get out,” Yuuji says, although making no effort to peel his body off of Megumi’s, if anything, he pushes himself closer into the other. “The water's gone cold. It's kinda gross.”
Megumi just sighs and pushes their bodies closer together. He really doesn’t want to get up. Though the soapy room temperature bath water is undeniably gross, he doesn’t mind it as long as it's with Yuuji.
Upon hearing Megumi’s silent resistance, Yuuji lets his head fall back onto the other's chest, breathing out a laugh.
“Five more minutes?”
Megumi nods.
“Five more minutes.”