Chapter Text
When Sukuna looks at him, Yuuji can feel it.
The weight of his gaze presses into Yuuji's neck like the nick of a knife, setting his nerves ablaze as a rout of tiny pin-prick spiders races over his spine.
Not an entirely unpleasant sensation, Yuuji finds, even as he resists the urge to shake it off.
He tears his eyes away from Choso and his rambling, a passionate recount of a slasher movie he's seen, to look back at his uncle.
They are all scattered around the living area at the Itadori residence, absorbed in conversation after an extravagant family dinner hosted by Kaori to celebrate Sukuna's "prodigal return". He sits reclined at the dinner table a few feet away from where Yuuji and Choso lounge, languid yet poised, nodding and humming conversationally at Jin's and Kaori's chatter as he nurses his drink.
Sukuna is wider and bigger than Yuuji remembers, a dangerous gleam exuding his handsome features that Yuuji knows are schooled into detached politeness. Dark, jagged lines of new tattoos tease along the collar of his well-fitted shirt and an unfamiliar set of scars adorns the side of his right eye to his temple, only adding to the predatory allure of his impressive stature.
However, nothing about his uncle has ever intimidated him and as their eyes meet Yuuji's face breaks into a huge, radiant grin.
Choso snaps his mouth shut, irritation flicking across his face when he realizes what the source of Yuuji's absentmindedness is.
"You listening?" Choso lightly shoves Yuuji's shoulder.
Choso always hates when it happens. Yuuji's radiance greedily sucked up by the pull of the yawning chasm Choso suspects Sukuna's heart to be.
"Oh," Yuuji’s attention whips back to Choso. "Oh. Sorry, man."
He rubs his neck and offers his brother an apologetic chuckle, suddenly feeling like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do.
He chances a quick glance back at Sukuna and a strange warmth fills his belly when he's met with one of Sukuna's rare not-mean smirks, a fond memory of his childhood, and he beams back reflexively.
Sukuna was mean to everyone, but never to Yuuji. Not really.
And yet, something flickers through the crimson haze of his memories and coats his tongue with a metallic taste. An unbidden shimmer of uncertainty.
Abruptly, he stands up, jostling Choso a little where they were huddled up together.
"Um," Yuuji stifles the blooming awkwardness in his chest, eager to escape from the large room entirely swallowed up by Sukuna's presence. "Wanna— wanna play some games?"
Choso's own beam of a smile comes just as easily in reflex.
*
Yuuji sends a silent thanks to the gods when Choso agrees to invite Megumi and Nobara along to their gaming session, their bickering a welcome distraction and background noise while Yuuji tries to sort out his confusing feelings.
It's been roughly ten years since Sukuna left to travel overseas, unexpectedly and without much of an explanation. Yuuji barely remembers anything through the fog in his head — only the heartbreak that had started to permeate the sanctity of his memories with Sukuna. But he's grown a lot since then, and when Sukuna stood at their doorstep, a little older and grizzlier, the remnants of his heartbreak and anger dissipated instantly to make room for the flood of pure child-like delight.
That familiar gravitational pull grew stronger, Yuuji had silently noted as he pulled Sukuna into a warm hug without much thinking or preamble. Yuuji was only a little shorter than Sukuna now but he had felt small in his embrace, engulfed in his scent and the bulk of his arms.
His thighs involuntarily clench together at the fresh memory. That was certainly new to him, a not so subtle shift in his perception of his beloved uncle that he had wrestled with the remainder of the evening.
He had always known Sukuna was handsome - in the same vein a son would find his mother pretty.
He just wasn't prepared for how attractive he was, how that potent scent and the sound of his voice ignited a chemical firework in his hormonal body, complicating his feelings even further.
How was he supposed to figure this shit out when his dick fought him every step of the way? And why his uncle, of all people!
"Yuuji, if you don't get your shit together, I swear to god—"
"Mind your own business, Kugisaki."
"Sorry guys, I'm a little tired today."
Choso nudges him gently as he pulls his headset off.
"You okay? Need a break?"
Yuuji shakes his head before he thinks better of it.
"Yeah, maybe a bit of fresh air," he admits. "Or a quick piss."
Choso nods and throws him a dazzling smile in encouragement as Yuuji stands to leave their room.
*
After washing his hands and fixing his hair in the bathroom, Yuuji traipses down the hall to grab a snack. He's been on edge all evening — most of it, a pleasant tingle — but he figures a little pick-me-up couldn't hurt.
That is, until the glow of a cigarette catches his attention on the edge of his periphery. On the balcony he spots Sukuna, almost entirely cloaked in the dark of the approaching night.
Yuuji closes the fridge he'd planned to raid, and leans over the kitchen island to check his parent's whereabouts — cuddled up on the couch watching TV.
He frowns at himself as he moves to slip out of the balcony door into the cool evening, the spring of his steps light and determined but mired with the thrill of anticipation.
Sukuna enjoys his cigarette sprawled on the outdoor chair, a lot more relaxed than earlier if his posture is any indication.
"Yo." Yuuji greets him, slinking down on the chair beside him.
Sukuna hums in acknowledgement.
"Yo yourself."
A somewhat comfortable silence settles between them as they watch the night curve into the remnants of the setting sun, occasionally punctuated by Yuuji's fidgeting.
Why was he so jittery? He was usually jittery, to be fair, never really completely at ease — but this feels different.
"How's school?" Sukuna asks into the blue and Yuuji calms almost instantly. That's something he could work with, brainless cliche small talk feels safe, easy. Not like he was restlessly prowling around for Sukuna's attention.
"Uh, y'know," he starts with a bashful chuckle. "Could be better. Could be worse, too, but not by much."
Sukuna huffs in response. "Not like your old man, then, huh? Jin was always buried in some book." There was no judgement in his tone, if anything he could relate. Books had certainly entertained Sukuna for a while but they failed to instill a respect for the syllabus in him.
"Ah, not really. I guess my strengths are elsewhere."
Sukuna takes a drag of his cigarette before he inclines his head towards Yuuji, drags his gaze over his huddled form as he blows the smoke out of his mouth.
Yuuji feels the rout of spiders under his skin again, sending shivers across his body that have little to do with the dropping temperature, he knows.
"That's good. We all need something we're good at. Else we should just go and die."
He shifts in his seat as he turns to put out the stub of his cigarette and grab another when Yuuji's hand on his forearm stops him.
Yuuji — Yuuji thought he was going to leave and his limbs rushed to move before his brain could catch up with reason, like a tiger pouncing on instinct.
Sukuna calmly observes the position Yuuji's put them in — a hand on his arm and the other on the arm of the chair, caging him in. His knee is shoved between Sukuna's spread legs to balance his weight, dangerously close to Sukuna's crotch.
He quirks a curious eyebrow at the boy.
"Can— can I try one?"
Quickly realizing his predicament, Yuuji nods at the pack of cigarettes in Sukuna's hand, hoping it will be enough to explain this peculiar turn of events.
Sukuna isn't fooled but he responds with a snicker, delighted at the opportunity to fuck with the boy further.
"Jin's gonna kill me. But sure, kid. Have a go."
Yuuji lets go of his arm and his fingers deftly fish one out of the pack, shoving it unceremoniously into Yuuji's mouth. The indignant squawk that escapes Yuuji's throat only fuels his amusement and another chuckle rumbles through his chest.
He couldn't really catch up with the kid at the dinner table, he felt. It... didn't afford them the kind of intimacy they deserved. There, it wasn't just the two of them — but here, on the balcony, with Yuuji hovering above his lap so intimately blanketed in the silence of the night — he feels it is perfect.
He has to give it to the kid, though, he is ballsy. Something in him preens at the revelation. He missed so much.
But they have all the time in the world now.
"Hold still," he orders, and Yuuji obeys. Sukuna lights another cigarette for himself first, indulges in the first drag, then grips Yuuji's jaw to maneuver the cigarette pressed between his pretty lips towards his lit one.
Yuuji feels like he's about to die. He's sure he isn't breathing, can't breathe, with Sukuna's face so close to his that he can almost count his lashes.
Transfixed, he watches as Sukuna's gaze entirely focuses on the task at hand. He marvels at the scattering of scars on his face, long since healed over.
How long has he had them? How did he get them? Does he have more?
Too much saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of Sukuna's body exposed to his greedy eyes, threatening to leak out off the corners of his mouth.
Panic settles in his gut when he realizes that he's being a complete weirdo about his own uncle. Again.
The cigarette in Yuuji's mouth lights up and Sukuna lets go of his jaw to pat his cheek.
Yuuji is grateful Sukuna can't see how red he is, or how he's denting his pants. Not in the dark, with nothing but the faint glow of the crescent moon and their cigarettes to illuminate that pocket of space they inhabit.
"You know what to do?"
Choso smokes but Yuuji had never developed an interest for it. His pitiful attempts end in frustration and embarrassment but Sukuna grants mercy, his eyes fixed on Yuuji's as he gives him a quick rundown and demonstration.
"Alright." Sukuna concludes.
He steadies the back of Yuuji's head while he grasps Yuuji's cig in the other hand, his fingers settling amidst the soft hair of Yuuji's undercut.
His eyes bore into Yuuji again, red gaze piercing through the smoky haze between them, courtesy of Yuuji's inexperience.
"Now suck."
Yuuji's stomach lurches and he is sure his balls seized up amidst all the sensations fired from the gravelly drag of Sukuna's voice alone but he dutifully responds to the command, performing nigh flawlessly.
"There we go. Good boy."
His voice— the murmured praise shoots straight to Yuuji's dick and he jumps, almost dropping the cigarette out of his mouth.
Sukuna's bark of laughter rings out and dispels the tension. He ruffles Yuuji's hair as he sputters and coughs smoke and ash between them, and puts out his half-finished cigarette.
"Alright, kid," he says, snatching Yuuji's cig out of his mouth and popping it into his own. "Now go to bed. Wouldn't want your old man to catch us here and cuss us out."
The blush on Yuuji's face only deepens, knowing Sukuna is sucking on his saliva right now — evidently completely unaffected by that fact. Unaffected by everything else that transpired this evening, or so Yuuji believes.
"Right, unless lung cancer doesn't catch you first."
The pout on Yuuji's face is only half fake.
"Mhm. You keep running that mouth and I'll catch you first, you brat."
Such a prospect shouldn't thrill him so much.
Still, when it's Sukuna it's better to obey.
He turns around as he leaves, throwing Sukuna a mock salute.
Although, he is grateful for the opportunity to escape. At least he can make a somewhat graceful exit.
After all, Sukuna is never mean to him. Not really.
*
He's trembling a little as he flits back into the safe confines of the bathroom, his nervous system beleaguered by the aftereffects of his bravado, the first taste of nicotine, and his stubbornly hard dick.
The thought of Choso seeing him like this is a flimsy excuse for the eagerness Yuuji rushes to strip and step into the shower.
The curtain of hot water on his shoulders offers relief and slows the racing thoughts in his head but does little to quell the need in the pit of his stomach.
Yuuji glides a tentative hand over his chest, and his pecs twitch when his fingers catch on his nipple.
"Fuck."
He couldn't do this. He grips the supple meat of his pec tightly, kneads the reddening flesh as he desperately attempts to push Sukuna out of his head. The usual contents of his spankbank trickle to the forefront of his mind and he rubs the peak of his nipple, gasping softly as he gets lost in the sensations.
There we go. Good boy.
Yuuji mewls, the sweet sound drowned out by the relentless stream of the shower. If only his type hadn't transformed into Sukuna in the span of an evening.
But that wasn't so true now, was it? He thinks of his favorite little porn, a clip of an older man — a caretaker type, stern and well-dressed, his blond hair pushed back — rewarding a younger looking man for good behavior with an earth-shattering orgasm.
Yuuji feels the details slipping from his mind, disappearing into the drain as the likeness of the performers morphs into Sukuna and him. His balls twitch and the dull pressure in his abdomen deepens. He needs this.
His hand moves over his stomach of its own accord but Yuuji doesn't find the will to scold himself for his deviancy.
Sukuna's cologne pervades his mind, the phantom of his scent making Yuuji's nostrils flare. His dick jerks against his stomach in anticipation, leaking and angry with neglect. Gently, he grasps the base and gives himself a careful stroke. A needy little gasp entangles from his throat and he swears the blood in his veins turned into a sweet syrupy mass.
A thud resonates in the shower as Yuuji's head hits the wall, and his eyes slip shut as he begins pumping himself earnestly. He knows he won't last long, not with Sukuna's voice haunting him like this, the ghost of his fingers teasing his hair on the back of his head. Knowing that Sukuna sits outside with Yuuji's saliva on his lips.
He thinks of how close he was to him, boldly hovering over his lap, Sukuna's legs spread obscenely. Desperation claws at him as his hand speeds up around his cock, and he imagines a hand bigger than his own, with a deep black band tattooed around the wrist, a thumb swiping cruelly across his tip.
Yuuji comes with a guttural moan, Sukuna's laughter echoing faintly in his ears.