Chapter Text
Kissing Suguru makes him too emotional, Satoru realizes. More than necessary and faster than it should. It’s not that weird considering he kisses Suguru to feel things he never felt before but…
It’s a messy web of intertwined thoughts and wants, banging in his head so loud it turns into white noise. Behind the static, there’s nothing but a burning desire to… He can’t shape it into words but it spills out of him in everything, in each touch and noise. It’s in his hands, blindly and urgently roaming Suguru’s body to bring him closer. Closer, closer, he’s never fucking close enough. It’s in his mouth, open to catch each of Suguru’s breaths, lips molded around his so perfectly like they were created to be slotted together. It’s in shaky gasps and tightly closed eyes, in each sensation under his fingertips and on the tip of his tongue.
It’s frantic and he knows it, a small voice in his head whispers “Satoru-kun, never lose your cool, even Six Eyes get blinded by emotions.” It sounds disgustingly close to his first martial arts teacher back when he was five and he fucking hates how good of an advice that was.
He should calm down, that’s right, he should just treat it like a fight.
He needs the upper hand first, uses the surroundings to achieve it - pushes Suguru to the toilet stall, teeth biting into his lower lip so Suguru knows breaking the kiss is not an option. They stumble in a mess of limbs, mouths locked together, Satoru’s hand blindly searching for a handle to push the stall door open.
Bang.
It hits the wall loudly, Suguru’s full weight is pinned against it and Satoru, chasing the hope of entangling their limbs to a point he doesn’t know where his end and Suguru’s start, only crashes into him more. The door creaks and shakes under the force of their collision, soft gasp gets punched out of Suguru. Satoru swallows it in a kiss and, for whatever reason, his heart surges higher than ever.
Suguru is so… pliant. Satoru kisses him however he wants, biting his tongue and clacking their teeth and Suguru only reciprocates, doesn’t bite back, doesn’t stand his ground. Satoru manhandles him, pushes him into a dirty toilet stall in a place where anyone could walk in and Suguru allows it. Not in the handout kiss way but in a he-can’t-control-it way. He likes it.
He must, for sure. Satoru tests his theory by bringing Suguru forward, enough to free the space behind him and close the door, pin him against it again, trap him inside. Suguru allows it too, mouth open to welcome Satoru's tongue, head tilted to the side to make the kiss deeper, palm heavy on his nape to keep him in place. Like Satoru would want to move away, laughable.
He has Suguru right where he wants him.
Now that the surroundings are to his advantage, Satoru goes for the kill.
Suguru gets distracted by touches. When they fight, he expects Satoru to use Infinity more often so he always stumbles when Satoru comes in close for a hand-to-hand.
So Satoru moves his lips lower, leaves smudges of saliva behind as he kisses Suguru’s cheek, down to the jaw. If he wasn’t a man on a mission he would get oh so distracted by how it feels - Suguru’s skin under his lips, velvety smooth and perfectly flush. Satoru listens to the smallest hitches to Suguru’s breaths, they go in tandem with each shallow kiss he plants on his face and it’s so…. He wants to nuzzle the skin, inhale deep and then messily lick the cheek, no grace or seduction, just primal animal desire to consume the heated flesh teasing his taste buds. These fucking glasses get in the way but he can’t take them off, needs at least something to dull the sensations.
Satoru’s lips travel to the ear, then - he gently bites Suguru’s earlobe. He was staring at it so much today it’s just a stupid whim of his - to check how the onyx of Suguru’s earplug would feel against his tongue.
Suguru’s body jerks with a sharp inhale he tries to mask but Satoru hears it, savors it, greedily listens for more.
The gauge is smooth, cold, so in contrast to how hot Suguru’s skin feels. Its texture is not exceptional in any way but when Satoru plays with it a bit, licks it front and back and then traces the rim with the tip of his tongue - Suguru’s fingers dig deeper into his nape. It hurts, Suguru’s damn strong, he will leave bruises that way. And, well, that is fucking exceptional - Suguru likes it.
Satoru tests the theory - sucks on the earlobe, bites it. Suguru gasps and judging by the movement and sound - throws his head back to deliberately hit it against the door. Cute. Satoru doesn’t need tests anymore.
He should be noisy though. Suguru should pant and moan and be so lost in it that Satoru will need to gently guide his hands where he wants them, tell him he’s doing great, brush his fringe behind his ear and kiss his temple to calm him down. Satoru wants him breathless, pretty blush and glossy eyes, wants those lips open on a moan as much as around his dick. He always wants to take it all but it’s getting murky now - whether he’s taking or giving, and he honestly to god doesn’t fucking care into what folder to put it, what label to stick on it.
He’s getting distracted again. Focus, Satoru, he reprimands himself. Suguru is distracted by touches so Satoru touches him more.
He releases the earplug with one last tug and goes to kiss the neck, slowly. It’s a deliberate press of lips, Satoru is not a patient person at all but he doesn’t rush this, he’s impulsive yet he’s a strategist. He opens his mouth and makes sure the drag of his lips against flushed skin is charged with intent. It is. He intends to savor it, lets his tongue collect the mixture of salty sweat and bitter cologne and something so Suguru he could smell it like a dog now that he got a taste.
Satoru leaves open-mouthed kisses down the column of Suguru’s throat, then flattens his tongue and licks a stripe all the way up to the chin. Maybe he is a fucking dog. Should lick Suguru all over and mark the smell.
He peppers kisses instead. Exactly fifty-two. It feels right. To kiss Suguru’s neck, gently bite his Adam’s apple, worship each expanse of his skin like a sacred ground. He wants to… He needs Suguru to know that… It’s vital he kisses Suguru’s throat with the gentlest of pecks, purposeful devotion pouring out of his lips in a way words could never.
It’s hard to keep his cool, there’s a huge fault in his strategy. Satoru gets distracted by touches too.
He should try harder then, pathetic excuse.
Fucking focus, Satoru!
His kisses get more intense, he even bites and sucks on the skin because now he needs Suguru’s attention only there - on his neck. Satoru ignores how his heart skips a beat when his teeth sink into the skin and Suguru chokes on a moan. Almost a moan, for fuck’s sake, if he could-
Stop stalling, focus!
With Suguru’s attention all on the neck, it is easy work for Satoru to sneak his hands between them and find the waistband of Suguru’s pants. It’s not his school uniform, thank god, Satoru wouldn’t be able to pull it off with those high-waisted pants with a fuckton of buttons. These black sweats? He just drags them and the underwear down in one swift move. Like ripping off a band-aid, he goes down to his knees at the same time.
He blinks.
It’s a dick.
Obviously, of course. Of course, he knows Suguru has a dick, it felt great to rub their cocks together, he fully expected to find a dick in front of his face when he went down. It’s just that… It’s a dick. Fully erect, hanging heavy with a bead of precum shining at the tip and two prominent veins curling on each side, almost symmetrical. It’s a real dick of another human being right here for him to stare at. It’s big. It shouldn’t be this long or have that much girth, it’s maybe even thicker than his own which is… how even!?
“You don’t have to,” he hears Suguru say in a loud whisper. “I didn’t actually mean-”
“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, looking up with annoyance. “Think I can’t? I’ll suck the life out of you I'll be so great at it!” It’s an overstatement. He’s not even sure he can open his mouth wide enough not to scrape with his teeth.
Suguru, fucking seer or whatnot, simply rolls his eyes. “It’s not a competition, you idiot. I did that for you because I wanted to, you don’t have to-”
“You think I don’t want to?” Satoru stops him right there because, well, that’s some ego Suguru has. “Think I would go on my knees because you suck dick so well I’d be willing to play along to your rules to get you to do it again?” he arches his eyebrow mockingly. Nevermind it’s true, Suguru doesn’t need to know that.
With their gazes locked, Satoru leans closer and licks the drop of precum, lets it sit on his tongue for Suguru to see. And Suguru watches - eyes glued to Satoru, pupils blown wide and blush high on his cheeks. Satoru grins as he makes a show of tasting it and swallowing it. Pretty much the same as his own if only slightly more bitter.
Suguru stares. It’s that charged, intense gaze Satoru recognizes instantly - it’s the one that lent him his first blowjob. He smirks.
“Su-gu-ru,” Satoru draws out with a teasing lilt to his voice, “you’re the easy one.” He channels his bravado into finally grabbing Suguru’s dick at the base and lightly squeezing. Suguru closes his eyes tight for a moment and Satoru’s smirk widens. “You’re so arrogant, Suguru,” he throws his own words back at him. “You think you have so much power over me? Think you can ‘handle me’? Fuck you, Suguru,” Satoru curses from the bottom of his heart.
It feels weird to say it with full chest to Suguru’s dick so Satoru looks up, determined. He means it, truly, it’s a fuck you from the depth of his soul.
But Suguru laughs. Throwing his head back and all that, he laughs happily and merrily and when he looks down - his eyes shine with so much warmth Satoru falters for a second.
“Do you really need to curse me before blowing me?” Suguru tilts his head, bright smile and pretty dust of pink on his cheeks.
He’s so beautiful, what business he has being so fucking beautiful even from this terrible angle!? It’s enraging, frustrating, vexing, illegal.
“Yes, fuck you again for that too,” Satoru pouts.
He’s nervous, okay!? Yes, he’s fully fucking terrified at the idea of having to put this huge fucking cock in his mouth and then make it good for Suguru. How the fuck will he do that!? Suguru has an ace up his sleeve with his cursed technique but Satoru’s cursed technique revolves around not letting anything get close to him, much less inside him. And he needs to make it good. He has to make it good, he wants Suguru with shaky knees and whiny moans, pliant and obedient the same as when Satoru kissed his neck and played with his gauges.
Is that how Suguru felt? Did he, too, sit on his knees in front of Satoru’s cock and thought ‘that’s damn terrifying’? He probably didn’t and that pisses Satoru off. Pisses him off enough to glare as he scrutinizes the erect length in front of him, like it’s to be blamed. And it is. Couldn’t Suguru have some cute little dick Satoru would swallow whole with mild struggle? No, he has to have this monstrosity between his legs. It feels personally insulting, like Suguru grew it this big on purpose, to taunt Satoru with the knowledge there are dicks maybe bigger than his. Like he wanted to teach him a lesson.
“Hey, Satoru?” he has the gall to gently call him.
“What!?” Satoru barks, eyes focused on the offensively huge problem he’ll have to somehow fit into his mouth.
A few strands of hair blocking his view get brushed aside with careful fingers.
“You’ll be great at it, I’m sure,” Suguru murmurs, voice absent of any sarcasm, sincere encouragement seeping through each syllable. Satoru wants to get angry, wants to scowl, declare that he doesn’t need to be cheered on or coaxed.
“What if I bite you?” he asks instead, hates how foreign and weird and small he sounds, hates how quickly he looks up in search of an answer.
“I’ll survive,” Suguru chuckles. “Come on, oh the venerable Gojo Satoru, you’re always boasting how you’re so great at literally everything you do. Prove it then,” he smirks, “do me.”
Satoru blinks. His glasses are at the tip of his nose so he can look up at Suguru with nothing obstructing the view. He can do him, definitely. It’s Suguru, of fucking course he can do Suguru. Exactly, he is great at everything, what’s some larger-than-average dick compared to the magnitude of Gojo Satoru as a higher being. Ridiculous.
“Oh, I’ll make you cry,” Satoru gins all wide, blood pumping in his veins. Suguru arches his eyebrow instead of answering, a silent challenge to demonstrate that seals Satoru’s resolve.
He focuses his eyes back at the task at hand. Pumps his fist experimentally, watches how the foreskin moves to reveal the pinkish head in full. It’s fascinating in a way, Satoru never cared to study the anatomy of his own dick with such scrutiny but when it’s Suguru’s that feels like a more rewarding task. So he tugs the foreskin away as much as he can, then slides his fist forward and watches it cover the head again.
It's a familiar yet foreign sensation under his palm. The heavy weight and the hot throbbing flesh - he knows it, he jerks himself off enough. But he doesn’t feel it himself - his body doesn’t react to harsh or mild strokes, no jolts of pleasure out of clutching harder or twisting his wrist. Because, obviously, it’s not his dick. But he does feel the heat in his gut, it’s not his dick but his brain still makes his body release head-spinning amounts of endorphins and maybe there’s more to sex than putting his dick into a warm hole.
Maybe it’s about Suguru’s pretty breaths, irregular and off-beat, reactive to each jerk and stroke. Maybe it’s about the way Satoru can see and feel Suguru’s cock twitch when he pumps his fist faster and harder. Maybe it’s about the power to drag his dry palm up and down while knowing it must feel like damn sandpaper and still have Suguru leak and twitch and throw his head back to hit the door with an intentionally loud thud.
Satoru looks up, that’s something he needs to see. But he’s down on his knees so he can only see the column of Suguru’s throat as his Adam’s apple bobs. Satoru’s dick twitches.
Right. Satoru is hard. He’s so hard, oh fuck, how the fuck did he not notice!? And… Satoru pumps the length with a harsh jerk just to check what reaction he’ll get - Suguru hisses through gritted teeth. Satoru’s dick twitches again. Okay, that’s interesting to know.
Satoru drags his thumb over the head, spreads a bit of precum and then presses into the slit because it feels good when he does it to himself. Suguru hits his head against the door again, harder this time, with a low groan escaping him. Satoru fucking leaks, can feel the wet spot forming on his underwear, has to close his eyes for a second because wow.
Theoretically, if Suguru, like, moaned really pretty, would Satoru just prematurely ejaculate? He giggles.
“What’s so funny?” Suguru, uncharacteristically, snaps.
Satoru frowns, he won’t be prematurely ejaculating with that tone. “Don’t be mean, or I will bite you on purpose,” he tightens his fist at the base as a warning.
“Go ahead, just stop playing with it like it’s a fucking plushie,” Suguru shoots back immediately and… oh? Is he…?
Satoru looks up and from this angle he can only see Suguru’s jaws grind, muscles shifting on his neck from the force of it. His knuckles are white too - when Satoru briefly glances down to his hands, they’re tight fists as if glued to the stall door behind him. He’s desperate. Oh god, he doesn’t even look down to stare at Satoru, he probably can’t. This is so great, wow, this is incredible!
Satoru’s whole being burns brighter with the sheer thrill of power, overflowing magnitude of might and force - he has Suguru in the palm of his hand. It feels like home as much as an achievement, it’s coursing through Satoru’s veins and pumping blood straight to his heart, beating fast, threatening to burst out of the ribcage. It spurs him to act bolder, manic grin stretching his lips as the boundaries blur under the force of his excitement, pure hunger.
“Suguru can’t handle my skilled crafty hands?” Satoru coos, full of wild delight, presses on the slit again.
Suguru curses under his breath and looks down, eyes fucking feral and brows creased in determination. Satoru plasters the most shit-eating grin on his face, he’s doing fantastic so far.
Those purple eyes narrow, swollen from all the kissing lips shape into a nasty smirk. “Satoru can’t fit a dick in his big loud mouth?”
…
That fucking asshole.
Satoru would spatter and bristle and start a fight in any other situation but he’s The Strongest for a reason. He knows his advantages and right now it’s Suguru who made a grave mistake.
It’s so easy to clutch his fist harder, really fucking hard, it should be damn painful because Satoru fully intends it to be.
Suguru closes his eyes shut tight and his nasty smirk turns into an annoyingly pretty scowl.
With fist gripping hard at the base, Satoru opens his mouth wide and takes the throbbing head inside, lets it weigh heavy on his flat tongue and looks up at Suguru from under the lashes.
Suguru sucks air through gritted teeth, eyes flying open in a second just to stare at Satoru like he holds the keys to the universe and beyond. Exactly. Satoru lets the dick slip out of his mouth, the tip leaving a trail of precum and saliva on his chin.
“You were saying?” he asks, no, fuck it, he threatens lowly, Suguru hurt his pride.
Purple meeting blue, it’s not the violet of violence he expects.
“Good job, Satoru” Suguru simply whispers, smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Satoru releases his death hold on Suguru’s cock out of pure surprise.
It’s… It’s not what Satoru- He’s taken aback as much as he feels his dick twitch and precum wetting his boxers even more. He didn’t want praise, never even considered it, but now that he got it…
Satoru doesn’t have a good retort and doesn’t see the need in one, irrationally - he kind of really honestly wants to feel that rush of something hot and sticky-sweet again. His underwear is so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.
So he opens his mouth, eyes glued to Suguru’s, he gently guides the cock back, hugs the underside with his tongue and seals his lips around the girth. Suguru closes his eyes, eyebrows creased, his dick twitches and Satoru can feel it. Its hot flesh, prickling his taste buds with musk and salt, its texture - from slick head to wrinkly foreskin, its wetness and the bitterness of percum.
Now that he’s not trying to prove a point and just experiences the notion of it, Satoru can say it’s.. It’s weird.
It’s a cock in his mouth. It tastes like skin and semen. It pulsates. If he sucks just a bit - he can hear Suguru gasp. It’s weird yet… It’s fucking thrilling. Suguru tastes so far from sweet but Satoru fucking loves this bitterness, loves the smell and the texture and damn everything. It’s an infinite expanse of possibilities and new sensations tickling his nape, urging him to slack his jaws, close his eyes and move forward.
The length slides inside smoothly, he watches his teeth and controls his gag reflex as much as he can to get it as deep as possible. It’s huge, takes up all the space in his agape mouth and Satoru literally can’t breathe but who cares, Suguru whimpers.
It’s muffled, subtle, an echo of a noise quickly interrupted. But it’s real, loudest whisper and quietest thunder, it’s the most broken and vulnerable sound Satoru ever heard leaving Suguru’s lips.
Oh.
So that’s what this feeling is. This insatiable power directing his each action, it's euphoria, heart singing and mind veiled with vibrant fuzz because he finally did it - he got under Suguru’s skin. He can crawl up his bones and build a home in his ribcage and then consume everything and still have plenty left because Suguru is bigger than life itself.
It’s trust. It’s closeness and intimacy he craved and craved and blindly looked for till someone took his hand and showed him the way with teasing words and patient smiles.
He could cry, actually. Mostly because he honestly can’t breathe with Suguru’s cock blocking his windpipe, eyes pricking from asphyxiation.
His head starts to spin, right, he really needs oxygen. Satoru moves back, cock slipping out of his mouth as he urgently gulps air, a string of saliva shining under the light, connecting his lower lip with the flushed tip.
Satoru catches air but he doesn’t want to lose momentum so he works his hand in the meantime - spreads the saliva he so generously drooled all over the head down the length. It’s a lot of ground to cover so he grabs the base with his other hand, now pumping both his fists in tandem. It’s not wet enough so he does the best thing his mind can come up with - he spits on the flushed head.
“Fuck, Satoru…” Suguru groans so brokenly Satoru looks up in a second, hands freezing.
Suguru stares at him. Pupils blown wide and half-lidded dark eyes, he stares so shamelessly and openly it couldn’t be more obvious how much he fucking likes it. Satoru should spit on him more often.
“Still doing a good job?” he grins, voice breathless and so smug because of course he is.
Eyes locked on Suguru and brow arched in wait for an answer he already knows, Satoru resumes stroking his fists, cheeky smirk on his lips. Spit slipping between his fingers, he coats the girth, lets slick noises fill the small room again as he watches Suguru’s face like a hawk for any reaction.
Suguru’s jaws shift as he swallows, he holds eye contact and doesn’t bother to blink. His gaze is intense, all-consuming, it’s fucking unnerving and Satoru feels his cheeky grin faltering, hands slowing down. Suguru is not watching him in awe, there’s no wonder or excitement or at least damn something that Satoru could decipher as ‘fucking shit, Gojo Satoru is sucking my dick!”.
No, Suguru watches him like he can see through him. Like Satoru’s skin is made of glass and Suguru can see muscles and bone, can read every thought in his mind and can hear each missed heartbeat. He watches him like predators watch prey, with hunger barely contained, buried deep under the need to wisely choose when to strike.
Satoru stills fully. Fists loose and motionless, wrapped around Suguru’s cock, he just looks up, waiting. As easy as Suguru’s praise made him over-perform, the lack of one makes him unable to do anything.
“Open again,” Suguru asks but there’s no question. It’s raspy, low, nothing of the usual honey sweetness coating his voice. It’s a request as much as it is not and Satoru listens.
Eyes only on Suguru, he slacks his jaw and rolls out his tongue. He sits on his knees in a dirty toilet stall and has his mouth wide open in a welcome and maybe he should care more about all the implications of it but he doesn’t.
Suguru gently removes Satoru’s hands from his cock and Satoru doesn’t protest, only puts them down to his thighs. Suguru grabs the girth with his own fist instead and Satoru still only looks up at him with mouth agape. Suguru brings his other hand to Satoru’s cheek, presses his thumb on Satoru’s flat tongue. Satoru creases his eyebrows, can feel himself leaking, underwear so so wet and knuckles white as he grips his fists because it feels so good.
It shouldn’t but it does and Suguru must know it too - his lips stretch in a telling smirk and his thumb goes down the tongue, collecting spit.
He brings his cock closer, it ghosts over Satoru’s open mouth and Satoru, in the weirdest feeling imaginable, wants it back in. Wants its length and girth blocking his windpipes, wants its heavy weight back on his tongue.
“Can you hold it open for me?” Suguru asks, Satoru nods frantically.
Of course he can, he’d open wider if he could.
Suguru thrusts his hips forward, just a tiny bit, cock slipping into Satoru’s mouth, slightly deeper than only the head. It feels so… crass. Vulgar. Something he would do, not Suguru. And despite his greed, Satoru stood still when it was his turn, didn’t snap his hips even once, he let Suguru make all the calls. Satoru sits still when it’s Suguru’s turn and gets his face almost fucked, Suguru still makes all the calls. When did Satoru let him? How the fuck did it happen?
He doesn’t get to think about it much, Suguru moves back and then rocks forward again, now almost half of his length in. The friction over his tongue, the fullness in his mouth, it’s kinda impossible to think at all.
“Watch your teeth,” Suguru whispers as he slowly pulls out and, fuck, right, Satoru opens wider.
“Good.”
Satoru clutches his fists so hard he may draw blood with his blunt nails.
It goes like this for another minute or two or ten, Satoru counts everything but he can’t count how many times Suguru’s cock thrust into his mouth, he doesn’t fucking care. He’s lightheaded even though Suguru never pushes deep enough to block his windpipe, it’s not the lack of oxygen that makes him feel like jelly, like he’s floating, like there’s blissful emptiness all around and only the hot heavy flesh dragging against his taste buds matters. It’s not the lack of oxygen but maybe it’s repetition. In and out. Steadily, slowly. In and out.
There’s nothing for him to think or consider, he just has to open wide and, fuck, there’s nothing for him to do. Just… in and out.
It’s so empty in his head.
“Satoru?”
He hears Suguru’s voice as if they’re underwater, something very far away and very close at the same time. He blinks lazily, looks up.
Suguru is not a vibrant picture in front of him, it’s a kaleidoscope of everything and it has been a very very long time since his Six Eyes showed him this. It’s uncalibrated, it’s ripples of forces and matters and energies making up this world, something so intricately complex that the human brain just can’t comprehend it. Unless he runs it through the rules and equations of his technique. He doesn’t, he can’t.
He should be afraid, he should be anxious, his Six Eyes malfunction and he can’t even read Suguru’s cursed energy, can’t see his eyes or lips or even a blurry resemblance of his face. Satoru doesn’t care. It’s a myriad of colors and shapes, streams of magnetic fields and radio waves, life force of living and cursed energy of their inevitable failings. It’s unfiltered and so messy yet perfectly chaotic.
He can’t see shit, plain and simple. But he feels, like a live wire he feels Suguru’s fingers caressing his cheek, feels the sting in his jaws and the cold tiles under his knees.
He feels Suguru’s cock pushing deeper into his mouth, deeper till he can’t help but gag as it hits the back of his throat.
Satoru hears the wet gurgling sound he makes, hears Suguru’s low grunt following right after. It’s a pretty sound, Suguru’s grunt. Satoru could choke and gag again and again to hear it.
It’s exactly what happens. Suguru thrusts harder, gradually building pace, cock hitting the back of Satoru’s throat with each snap of his hips. Satoru gags each time and it’s the only thing that keeps him from getting fully lost and dissociated, somehow managing to ground his attention back in reality.
It hurts, kind of. His jaws hurt, his face hurts, his throat feels scratchy, he struggles to breathe and the faster Suguru goes - the less he manages to get any oxygen in between thrusts.
If someone wanted to kill him now, some sneak attack or whatever, Satoru wouldn’t be able to stop it. Shit, he wouldn’t even see it.
The clarity of not giving a single fuck about it is freeing, liberating, he trusts he’ll be okay no matter what and if not - it’s not so bad, to go out with this experience under his belt. So he just… disregards it all, leaves it all outside of this small bubble he carved in the universe, meticulously shaped to fit only the two of them inside.
He feels tears running down his cheeks, hot wet trails on his face that must be purely physical because it’s painful and he can’t breathe.
“Shit, fuck, Satoru, I need to-”
Suguru starts to pull out, urgently, and no.
Satoru grabs his thighs, digs his nails into the skin and blinks furiously to clear up the veil of tears despite knowing he won’t be able to see anything anyway.
“I need- damn, Satoru, I need to cum, let go.” Suguru’s palm lands heavy on the top of Satoru’s head and he tries to push him away but no.
Satoru doesn’t bulge, he hollows his cheeks instead and sucks on the head, he promised to suck the life out of him and he fucking will.
It happens in a blur - the sharp pain in his scalp when Suguru fists his hair, the loud moan of his name, the hot wetness filling his mouth. It’s a fuckton of sensations he never ever experienced and his vision blows up with fireworks, ears ringing and head spinning and hands gripping Suguru like a lifeline.
He starts to cough. Fuck knows why but there’s no heavy weight on his tongue anymore and instead, he feels something hot and sticky landing on his cheek, Suguru’s hand in his hair yanking him back with enough force to shake the kaleidoscope into new shapes.
He coughs and coughs but gulping air feels amazing, everything feels amazing, there’s white static in his brain and warm skin under his palms as an anchor, so he’s ecstatic.
“Shit, Satoru, I’m sorry, I tried to warn you, I’m sorry, are you okay? Satoru, hey?” Suguru sounds concerned, running his mouth so fast Satoru can’t understand what he’s yapping about. Sorry for what?
It’s too many words.
“Ngh,” Satoru makes a noise, something between ‘shut up’ and ‘calm down’. It sounds like ‘please get down here’ instead.
Calloused fingers brush away his sweaty bangs, then there’s a palm wiping his chin and then his glasses get taken off his face. He forgot he had them on. Suguru hugs him then. Just like, cuddles him, warmth engulfing his body and velvety skin under his nose as his face gets shoved into the crook of the neck. He closes his eyes tight and buries himself deeper into the blissful darkness the nook of Suguru’s shoulder can provide.
“I’m really sorry, Satoru,” Suguru murmurs as his fingers frantically run through Satoru’s hair. “I- You just- I didn’t mean for it go like this, it shouldn’t have been like this, fuck, it’s not how your first time should’ve happened. I’m-”
“Shut up, you’re so loud,” Satoru mumbles into the skin, nuzzling deeper.
Suguru shuts up. Thank god. Satoru breathes out and starts to remember how to work his Six Eyes. It takes exactly 3 minutes and 21 seconds for him to stop this damn mess of fractured color schemes from dancing behind his eyelids. That’s 3 minutes and 20 seconds too long, he should work on that.
“Suguru?” he whispers, readying himself to pull away from the warmth.
“Hm?” Suguru hugs him tighter.
“I came in my pants.”
Silence.
“Did you cum when you sucked me off?”
More silence.
Satoru frowns. That’s a super-valid question. He forces himself to get away from the safety of Suguru’s neck and look at him. Suguru stares back without blinking.
“What?” he finally asks.
“Did you cum when you sucked me off?” Satoru repeats slower this time, maybe Suguru too needs some time to reload.
“No, I dealed with it later,” he replies dumbly, still looking like gears are turning in his head.
“Mm,” Satoru contemplates. “Then I should fuck your face next time, it feels great!” he beams, all wide and teeth on full display because it’s true, it felt fucking amazing.
Suguru blinks. Once. Twice. A chuckle shakes his shoulders, then an incredulous smile stretches his lips.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want, Satoru,” he agrees easily, something very close to relief flashing through his eyes.
Satoru smirks. “Whatever I want? So I earned it?”
Suguru promised him, back when they first kissed, he’ll spoil him as usual if he earns it.
“I feel bad enough for making you choke to allow this, don’t get confused,” Suguru arches his eyebrow but there’s teasing buried deep in his voice and Satoru laughs.
“You’re such a bitch, really,” he says through chuckles and buries himself into the waiting embrace of Suguru’s strong hands.
There is a crystal clear notion in his head - this is gonna be forever. Nothing can ever change between them because the universe might just collapse if one Gojo Satoru doesn’t have Geto Suguru by his side.
***
There are exactly three text messages from Shoko - one blinking on Satoru's screen, two on Suguru’s. She has favorites, look at her.
do you need my help? it’s been half an hour.
Satoru got a generic one.
make satoru check his phone. what takes u two so long? should’ve gone with you idiots.
Suguru got a personal touch. Then, another one 10 minutes later:
okay, morons, i will fucking look for you and i hope to find bleeding corpses. !!.
“Ouch, she’s a bloodthirsty woman,” Satoru whistles, toying with Suguru’s phone in his hand.
Suguru looks up from the sink - he’s cleaning Satoru’s glasses because that’s the least one can do after ejaculating on 300,000 yen frames. Also, Suguru feels guilty for whatever reason and Satoru has no problem exploiting it.
“Shoko?”
“Yep, she’s looking for us. And considering she’s been doing it for 23 minutes, she’s a shit detective.”
Suguru snorts, getting back to rinsing water over the dark blue glass. “We should buy her something to apologize, we did leave her alone for some time.”
“Bleh!” Satoru makes a bastardization of a gag sound. “Her fault for third wheeling!”
Suguru’s movements still, his shoulders get more tense. Satoru tilts his head curiously, that’s a weird reaction.
“She’s always with us, you can’t third wheel in a friendship,” Suguru murmurs, staring down at the running water.
Satoru raises his eyebrows so high he’s sure they are about to disappear in his hairline.
“Please tell me you’re just doing your moral superiority thing to piss me off.”
Suguru side-eyes him, “me calling us friends pisses you off?”
“I had your dick in my mouth, what fucking friends!?” Satoru honestly blows up, are they five?
Purple eyes spark with something, Satoru sees the emotion but can’t decipher it at all. Suguru hums then, a mock of thoughtful concern on his face as he takes a paper towel and slowly dries the glasses. Satoru wants to strangle him.
Probably feeling the patience wearing thin, Suguru steps closer to Satoru and carefully puts the glasses back on his face. Then smiles.
“Best friends?” he offers like he indeed talks to a five-year-old.
He’s just… Unbelievable.
It ripples a chuckle out of Satoru anyway. Then another one. Then he can’t help it - bubbly laughs shake his shoulders and something unbelievably fuzzy and warm twirls his insides.
“Is Shoko your best friend too?” he asks, just to make sure.
Suguru dutifully shakes his head - no.
“Only you,” he grins.
Satoru grins wider, “you’re so full of shit.”