Anon, first of all, sorry for the delay!! And secondly, apologies for being an awful tease - I got through like 900+ words of this (wtf no really) before realising I don't have the stamina to finish it tonight (or in a retrospring answer lol) so the Good Stuff will be forthcoming, I promise!! In the meantime:

"You said we were going somewhere nice," Megumi mutters, sullen, and all Toji does in response is adjust his shades. Lean further back into the seat and spread his arms wider still, sprawled out like he doesn't have a single care in the fucking world.

"What, you don't think this is nice?" His lying bastard of a father is smirking, the ugly scar on his lip pulling up at the motion. "I thought you liked the seaside, Gumi."

Seaside. Like they're at the beach instead of on a boat, and like this is a vacation instead of another one of Toji's stupid ideas. Megumi contents himself with pulling a face, which only serves to make Toji laugh at the sight. Lean over to pinch a chubby cheek for good measure.

"Don't be like that, baby," he cajoles, all fake concern, and Megumi pulls away with a glare. "Look, we're almost there, so turn that frown upside down, alright? No one likes a sourpuss."

There being the superyacht that's lying at anchor, the bulk of it sleek and shiny in the evening light. It's nice enough, Megumi supposes. Orange sky. Warm sun. Sea-breeze in his soft hair and an evening spent entertaining bunch of rich perverts on-board.

For fuck's sake.

It must show on his face because Toji takes one look at it and just laughs again, the sound of it as unkind as ever.

-

It's the kind of place where even Toji gets offered champagne, Megumi reluctantly trailing after him in moody silence.

Polished floorboards. Art on the walls. Too many rooms and the persistent sound of music coming from somewhere on the top decks, a thumping, obnoxious beat that reverberates even down into the belly of the ship. A party, probably - he'd seen the twist and curve of beautiful bodies, all lean and tanned and dressed in shiny, expensive things, drinks held high to catch the setting sun.

"Mr. Ryoumen's expecting you," the man in the polo tee says when they get to the door at the end of the corridor, and Toji doesn't even wait for him to leave before he's pushing it open.

It's quieter in here. Soft carpet, rather than oak floors. Dark panels and plush furniture, warm light that stops the shadows from creeping too far along the walls.

"You going to be here the whole time?"

Mr. Ryoumen's in one of the seats just by the window. He doesn't even look up from where he's cutting his cigar - just rotates it against the sharp edge of his blade, slow and practiced. Unhurried. Unconcerned.

"It'll cost you extra if you want me to leave," Toji says, all sly, and the sudden hand between Megumi's shoulderblades makes him stumble over the threshold with a squeak that finally draws Mr. Ryoumen's attention. "So what will it be, boss?"

Mr. Ryoumen just makes a noncommital sound at this. Leans back and affixes them both with a look that makes Megumi wonder if they're going to get sent back out of the room before-

"Come here," Mr. Ryoumen says and Megumi doesn't need to be told twice. Less than thirty seconds in his presence and he can already tell: Mr. Ryoumen isn't the type who appreciates needing to wait for anything. "You ever light one of these before, sweetheart?"

"Yes sir," Megumi mumbles.

Mr. Ryoumen spreads his legs a little wider then, Megumi crossing the floor on colt-legs to gingerly step into the space that's been made for him.

"Play nice, baby," Toji calls from somewhere behind him. "You're a guest of Mr. Ryoumen's, remember?"

Megumi exhales a tiny, irritated huff that doesn't go unnoticed - Mr. Ryoumen has a small smile on his face when Megumi goes to straddle one of his broad thighs instead, knobbly knees digging a little awkwardly into the soft, black leather upholstery before he settles onto firm muscle

"Sorry Mr. Ryoumen," he mumbles again once he's seated and startles when a large, warm hand strokes down his back.

"It's okay." This close, he can see the lines on Mr. Ryoumen's face. Smell the spice of his cologne and the tobacco from the cigar he's still holding in his other hand. "But you're going to be nice and good for me for the rest of the evening, aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

The hand on his back hasn't stopped, Megumi trying his best not to lean into the touch.

"Lighter's just on the table, sweetheart," he says and Megumi can see it just off to the side. Brass and rosewood lacquer, the heft of it heavy and clearly expensive when he picks it up in one hand.

It flips open with a small plink, Megumi holding it steady even as Mr. Ryoumen leans in and lets Megumi light him. Because Toji didn't raise no idiot, Megumi blows softly on the end when he's done, Mr. Ryoumen's hand stilling in the small of his back when he takes those first few short puffs.

Mr. Ryoumen exhales just past Megumi's ear, close enough for a small shiver to go through him when he turns his head just so.

"Good boy," he says, voice pitched low enough to be a purr, and Megumi would squirm on his lap if not for Mr. Ryoumen's hand keeping him still.

"So?" Toji demands. "Should I make myself comfortable?"

Megumi can feel Mr. Ryoumen shift ever so slightly underneath him. Strong muscle flexing under the beige linen of his trousers, Megumi automatically reaching out to steady himself on Mr. Ryoumen's shoulder as he does.

It must be the right move, because Mr. Ryoumen is smiling at him again.

"Leave us," Mr. Ryoumen eventually says. His hand has come to settle on Megumi's hip, wrapped around the still-stubtle curve of it. "I'll have someone send him back to shore in the morning."