Work Text:
Gojou Satoru has a secret.
It beats loudly in his chest when he is standing idle on a city street, exactly where they are bound to meet, and he appears in all his anachronistic finery, suddenly blazing into existence amidst the dull bodies pushing mindlessly forward. His heart kicks into a sprint, and tucked in close beside it, the heavy knotted words are caught in the surge; his blood tingles, it pumps assuredly, encouragingly through him, and for a short second, everything is right—he alone is not the honored one, he’s only one half of the most powerful sorcerer in the world, the other is sweeping toward him now, waving, smiling, opening his mouth—but if he didn’t, if this one time, Satoru managed to speak first, then he suspects everything would come tumbling out of his chest, likely in odd bits and pieces, yes, but clear enough that his “secret” could no longer be called as such.
“Satoru.” Suguru is still several paces away, but his low voice cuts through all the background noise. Pierces straight through Satoru’s chest and locks him in place. His smile is wide and real. “Will you kill me today?”
Satoru smiles, but his own lips are sore, his mouth wry. Does he notice?
“Today is a Tuesday,” he answers, and steps forward to meet him, hand wrapping behind his neck, sinking into soft, long hair to pull their mouths together. Suguru gives a little murmur of surprise but folds into him easily, kissing back harder—it’s his tongue that slips into Satoru’s mouth first. Not like when he was a teenager, their first time, when he kicked Satoru to the gymnasium floor and left him there, bloody and spitting.
They break apart after a long moment. Satoru doesn’t remove his hand. The crowd lurches around them same as before, as always.
“Should I come back on a Wednesday?” Suguru’s eyes shine with mirth. He tilts his head in playful consideration. “Or a Thursday?”
Satoru is not fond of this game, of this topic—when it starts. But it is impossible for him to stay unamused for long around Suguru.
“Better come back every day,” Satoru tells him. He flicks his eyes down, then back up again. “I’m sure we’ll find an auspicious one eventually.”
“Mm, indeed.”
Suguru leans forward to brush his mouth against Satoru’s waiting ear.
“Do you want to stand here all evening and further scandalize the monkeys, or would you like to take me back to your bed?”
Satoru’s heart begins to race again. He’s not thinking about all those buried words anymore. He’s thinking about naked, hot skin against his own bare body, about the smell of Suguru’s soap, the silkiness of his hair, his mouth, opening to swallow Satoru’s cock—and he’s hotter than ever because Suguru said back, admitting a past, a pattern.
“Take you back,” he says in a distracted mumble, and wraps his other arm tight around Suguru to teleport them both back to Jujutsu High.
It could be said to be unwise, carrying on in this way. Within the walls of the institution that has excommunicated Suguru. It could even be said to be cruel—to Satoru’s new students, to Suguru himself. But Satoru wants his lover in his bed, staining his sheets, sweating against his pillows, and sleeping beneath his blankets, and he gets what he wants, whenever possible.
They met in love hotels at first, when each time could have easily been the last time, when they parted with voices hoarse from cursing. But somewhere along the way, they began to make plans—next week’s no good, what about the week after? Where should we meet? I’ll wait for you. And that led, inevitably, to Suguru in his bed—his real one, where he sleeps or doesn’t sleep when he’s not on a mission, and after that, it was impossible to have him anywhere else.
Satoru kisses him firmly against the door as he reaches behind Suguru to lock it. Suguru chuckles and catches his hand, draws it up to his cheek. Presses a light, chaste kiss against his open palm. Then, meeting Satoru’s eyes, his tongue emerges and licks a slow, heavy stripe up to his wrist, pressing firmly into the tender veins there as though he would like to taste its pulse.
“Time to undress,” Suguru murmurs, still holding his gaze.
He exhales a short laugh. “And I’m supposed to do it for you, is that right?”
“Don't tell me you forgot how.”
He drops his hand and Suguru lets it go. He steps back, surveying Suguru from head to toe and laughs again. “You’re like a maiden guarding her chastity. As if all these layers will protect you from lecherous eyes.”
“You sound unconvinced, but I’m actually feeling quite protected right now.”
“Are you.” Satoru says flatly. He begins the long process of disrobing Suguru. “You know, I’ve been dealing with an extremely irritating problem for years because of you.”
He pauses to hush Suguru’s sure response, pressing one finger tight against his lips. They stare at each other silently.
“I get hard,” he starts again after a moment, and watches Suguru’s eyes widen, “very frequently upon seeing monks. Men older than my grandfather walking down the street, wearing robes that are completely different from yours, and bam!—suddenly, I have a boner.”
Satoru remains steadfastly committed to his task, despite the laughter now shaking through Suguru’s shoulders.
“Why—why would you tell me that?” Suguru manages after an inappropriate length of amusement. “I’m never going to let you forget that.”
Satoru shrugs. “Well, that was just context for what I was going to tell you next.”
“Do tell.”
“Ehh, I don’t know. This environment isn’t feeling very sharing-friendly anymore.”
“Satoru.” A hand slips under his chin and forces him to look up. Suguru’s eyes are warm and open. “Tell me.”
Satoru pulls the robe off his shoulders. His mouth is very dry, suddenly. “The other day, the first-years and I watched a movie together.”
“Mm.” Suguru pets his head as he resumes his work. The top layers are folded neatly now, all that’s left are the pants. His hand glides softly over the front, but Suguru remains impassive. Satoru relents, despite the faint bulge he’s sure he felt.
“It was a period piece, you probably guessed. I had to steal the popcorn bucket to cover myself while I snuck off to the bathroom.”
“Fascinating,” Suguru drawls.
Satoru helps him step out of the pants, holding Suguru’s hand tight against his shoulder. “Unimpressed, huh? Thinking about me jerking off in a dirty public bathroom doesn’t get you hard?”
Suguru makes a noncommittal noise.
“Well, you’re in luck, because I didn’t jerk off.” Satoru folds the pants on top of the other pieces, then steps between Suguru’s legs, pushing into the hardness that pokes through his tight briefs. Knowing exactly what Suguru wears underneath all those robes is yet another reason Satoru has difficulty going about his day without getting a nosebleed. “I bent over and spread my ass, imagining someone watching me. Then I took out the plug so I could finger myself.”
Suguru starts, but pinned as he is between the door and Satoru, all he can do is stare into the teasing eyes across from him.
“Plug?” Suguru repeats lowly.
“Yeah. I keep thinking one of these days you’ll turn up unannounced to fuck me, and I’d hate to be unprepared. But the plug had already stretched me so nice and full, my fingers weren’t enough.”
Suguru makes a sympathetic sound. It immediately cuts off when Satoru adds, “That’s when I heard the door open.”
“Satoru,” Suguru breathes. His hands come up to dig into Satoru’s back. “Tell me you didn’t—"
“I don’t know what he looked like. I imagined it was the handsome man who’d been sitting in the front row. I thought about unlocking the door and turning my back, letting him come over to investigate…”
Suguru’s eyes burn into his own. He bites back a laugh.
“…but the poor guy just really needed to piss. I heard him unzip, and then the sound of his heavy stream hitting the urinal. It was so gross. I mean, seriously, what a boner-killer. Right?” He skims his lips down Suguru’s jaw. “Except it made me even hotter.”
“Satoru,” he says sharply.
“I just couldn’t stop thinking about him knocking into my stall, finding me all alone and empty, and jabbing his cock into me, how hot and wet and messy it would be, filling me up like that, raw and disgusting, like I’m nothing but a hole—”
Suguru shoves him backward. As he stumbles, Suguru sweeps forward to slam him to the bed, pushing him down by the neck, crawling over his body and pinning his wrists with his free hand.
Satoru is unfazed. “Still want to touch me? You heard me—I’m filthy, I’m no better than an animal, just driven by instinct, offering my ass up to anyone that’ll fuck and breed me—”
A hand slaps over his mouth. Suguru stares down at him, breathing heavily. Face flushed, eyes surging with something that Satoru can’t name.
“Satoru.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to provoke me. I thought we didn’t do that anymore.”
“Right. In the way that ends with us both at each other’s throats.”
Suguru stares at him. Looks pointedly at his hand, wrapped around Satoru’s throat, then back to his eyes.
Satoru laughs. “Nah, this is okay, this is the sexy kind. Look, you caught me—I was trying to provoke you. But only into fucking my poor neglected hole. If you’d let me finish the story, you would’ve heard the part where I came with three fingers up my ass thinking about that time in second-year when you fucked me with the dildo, remember?”
“Of course.”
Suguru fixes him with a searching look, eyes roaming over his face. Then quickly, and with an apologetic air, he relaxes his hand. He bends down and leaves a kiss in the hollow of Satoru’s throat. When he moves to pull back, Satoru yanks his trapped wrists free and throws them behind Suguru’s neck, preventing his escape.
Suguru laughs quietly and lets his head fall to Satoru’s chest. He tilts his mouth up and presses another kiss to his throat, then another. A minute passes like that.
“You didn’t undress me,” Satoru says finally with a pout.
Suguru ignores his whining. “I didn’t know you wanted to be fucked,” he says softly.
Satoru gives him a deadpan look.
“I didn’t know you were—okay with it,” he revises. “I didn’t think—ever again.”
“Yeah.” Satoru considers a moment. “Me either.”
For the strongest sorcerer alive today, Satoru thinks he’s had a pretty raw deal with how many times he has been forced into a vulnerable position during his life—it would almost be embarrassing, he thinks, if he hadn’t managed to sever all emotion from those memories long ago. All that’s left are the faint physiological marks, now much faded but still resistant to complete extermination.
Back in high school, Suguru had been the second person to learn about the sordid details of his childhood, growing up in the legendary Gojou clan, surrounded by men addicted to power. Who among them could possibly resist stealing such a sweet prize from the future heir before he knew any better, before he could talk back, fight back? The first to learn had been Shoko, healing him in the nurse’s room one afternoon when she touched him wrong, and it all came spilling out.
Suguru had learned in quite a different way. Their first year of high school, dominated by intense rivalry, had just come to its natural conclusion with the two of them naked in their dorm room, Suguru preparing to put his hard cock into Satoru, but the second it glanced against his hole, Satoru pissed all over himself and started crying. If Suguru had said anything, anything at all, they would have broken up forever and Satoru would have either dropped out or killed himself (he was less stable then). But Suguru had said nothing. He had cleaned up the mess as best he could and then returned to his own bed, turning the light off on the way. And later that night, he woke up to discover Satoru in bed beside him, half-asleep with swollen eyes but no longer crying, and that was when Satoru told him everything he had told Shoko, plus all the things he hadn’t told her.
After that, their second year was spent experimenting—with both emotions, new and overwhelming, and sex, not so new, just as overwhelming. Suguru could finger him regularly, and Satoru was starting to thoroughly enjoy sucking dick, as long as it was Suguru’s, which meant only positions where he could see his face, but penetration beyond fingers was largely unsuccessful. There was that time with the dildo, which went relatively well, but that was it. Between them, that was it.
Then Satoru met Toji.
Before Toji nearly killed him, he spent some time playing with him. Playing—like he was a doll that didn’t know it yet, and all Toji wanted was to see what it would take to make him break completely. Permanently.
The men that fucked him when he was a boy had used him like maybe some of his potential would rub off on them, like maybe if they came in his holes enough times, he would recognize no matter how strong he became later, he would always be young and helpless before them. Toji fucked him to show him how weak he was, to demonstrate precisely how deep the gap between them ran, despite everything Satoru had been told his whole life.
Toji caught him trying to crawl away and before Satoru even knew that he should be afraid of more than death, he had ripped his uniform pants down, tearing them in the process, and plunged his dick into him, not caring that Satoru could only easily take a little finger at first, not caring that Satoru pissed himself, that he started bleeding, that he threw up his lunch when Toji moved him to his hands and knees. He only cared when Satoru started screaming, and then he ripped a piece from Satoru’s shirt and shoved it in his mouth. After he came inside his ass, he made Satoru hold his cock in his mouth until it got hard again, and then he fucked his face until Satoru couldn’t breathe—he must have passed out, because when he woke up, his face was covered in jizz.
Those few seconds of awareness were all he got before Toji cut him up. If he had managed to come back from that, as far he was concerned, nothing in this world could ever bring him to his knees again. He had been very confident.
After, though, nothing was the same. Suguru and him hooked up a few more times, awkwardly, to both their dissatisfaction. Suguru was afraid to touch him, and all Satoru could think about was how much more afraid he would be if he had actually seen what happened, seen the aftermath.
And then autumn came. Suguru left.
Their goodbye, when Satoru tracked him down, was predictably impermanent. Just a few days later, Satoru had sought him out again, feeling the worst he had ever been. The only person he had ever wanted to touch him, to be inside him, had not only left, but was gone without ever knowing him in that way. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, he wanted to crawl out of his skin, he was so disgusted by his own body and yet he desperately, inconsolably, needed Suguru to touch him everywhere it ached, just one last time.
Suguru, when faced with him in that state, quickly broke down. As a final parting, he agreed to fuck Satoru, and this time, as if his body knew, as if Toji had been preparing him for this moment all along, he could take Suguru, fully and truly. He even held on until Suguru came inside him, delighting in how depraved it made him feel, before he lost it—just managed to crawl off Suguru’s dick in time to retch over the bed.
Suguru had reached out to rub his back, then pulled back abruptly.
“You’re not even hard,” he said in dismay.
Satoru laughed bitterly. “What, like that matters?”
“…Satoru. You should go.”
He whirled on Suguru. “Seriously? Your cum is still in my ass!”
“We shouldn’t have done this—I shouldn’t have agreed. You can stay. I’ll leave.”
It was just some shitty hotel room. Which of them left first didn’t really matter. But Satoru still raged.
“You’ll leave? Leave me like this? You’re just like him, like all the others! You’re a fucking coward, too scared to stick around and fix your mess!”
He continued to shout at him as Suguru gathered his clothes.
“You don’t get to just avoid reality by choosing to be crazy—Suguru, you’re actually insane if you think your new goal in life or whatever bullshit is possible, if you think I’ll let—”
“Then you know what to do.”
Suguru stood there for a long moment while they stared at each other. When Satoru made no move, he nodded.
“Don’t feel like killing me today? That’s fine. Maybe next time. See you around, Satoru.”
For the second time in a week, it felt like Suguru dragged all of Satoru’s insides along with him as he left, leaving him an empty, lifeless husk. He wished Toji had killed him. He wanted to go back in time and slap himself for thinking it could never get worse; he’d gladly let himself be raped a hundred more times than ever have to say goodbye to Suguru.
He doesn’t remember how he got home that night. In fact, he doesn’t remember much of the week that followed. He took leave from school and spent most of his time asleep. When he managed to stand up, he nearly collapsed from lightheadedness.
But he didn’t die. He kept going to sleep and kept waking up, and eventually started eating again, and then seeing Shoko, sitting in for one class, then a half-day, and soon he was cleared for missions again, and at some point he caught himself laughing at dinner with Shoko and Nanami and realized he could smile and it felt real.
It has been years since then. Satoru remembers thinking he would never recover, never move on, and then, at some point when he wasn’t looking, it happened all by itself.
He learned several things from that tumultuous period in his life, that he suspects Suguru does not yet know or understand. But that’s okay—Suguru can and will live his own way. He accepted that long ago.
And this, now, is Satoru’s way—asking for Suguru to give him again what they blundered so terribly once before.
“Did something change? Why now?” Suguru rubs his cheek into Satoru’s chest. “Don’t tell me—you’re tired of fucking me. I know I’m not so young or pretty anymore but—”
Satoru smacks his arm. “Cunt. We’re the same age.”
Suguru waves him off, then tries to sit up, and this time, Satoru lets him go.
“I’ll—” Suguru pauses. His eyes are fixed to the bed with a faraway look. He shakes his head and looks back to Satoru. “Let me undress you?” he says, with just the faintest lilt of a question.
Satoru cackles as he flings himself off the bed. He stands up straight, eagerly waiting for Suguru to join him. “You haven’t sounded this nervous since high school. I won’t bite.”
Suguru flicks his stomach as he gets to his feet and ignores Satoru’s exaggerated doubling-over. “I think you will, actually. Arms up.” With Satoru’s cooperation, he pulls off the shirt. His fingers go next to the button on his pants. He unzips them slowly and looks up to watch Satoru’s face as he pulls them down. In a reversal of their roles from earlier, he helps him stay balanced as Satoru steps out of the pants. Then he is wearing nothing but underwear. A different sort to Suguru’s plain briefs.
“Satoru.” Suguru’s not looking into his eyes anymore. His hands come around to cup Satoru’s ass over the light pink lace. “What are these?”
He leans into Suguru’s arms. “Panties. Why? Never heard of them?”
“Mm, maybe once or twice.” Suguru pinches his ass then leans in to his ear. “These suit you, Satoru.”
A shiver trails down his spine. “Pleased you think so. But they’d probably look better on the ground.”
“Maybe.” Suguru thumbs contemplatively at the waistband. Then his hand freezes.
Satoru reaches up to rub at his nape. “What?” he murmurs.
“You said—you’ve been wearing a plug?”
“Mhmm.”
“Today?”
“Mmm, I forget.” Satoru tugs his underwear down. “You should probably check.”
“I always liked prepping you,” Suguru says suddenly. Even as his hands pull Satoru’s panties down to land on the floor.
“I know. Not everything’s about you.”
Suguru pulls his cheeks apart and carefully presses his thumb to Satoru’s hole. He makes a soft noise when he feels the solid metal waiting there.
“This is, though,” Satoru adds. “I just wanted to help…be ready. This is months in the making, I’ll have you know. Talk about getting older—my pussy thought we were closed for business, for good.”
“Can I take it out?”
“And leave me empty?”
“Not for long.”
“Fine.”
Suguru wraps his fingers around the base and tugs it lightly, testing. It resists, barely moving. He tugs it harder, and it shifts teasingly inside him. Satoru swallows around a moan and presses his forehead to Suguru’s shoulder.
“Your pussy likes it,” Suguru whispers. He starts to say something else but cuts off. He tugs on the plug again and this time, it starts to slowly ease out.
“You can say it,” Satoru mumbles against his skin.
“I’ll think about it.”
Satoru squirms. “No, really. Say it.”
“Maybe later. You’re definitely acting like one.”
“Suguru!”
Silence. Suguru’s other hand pets at his hip, while the one below finally pulls out the plug. He can feel his hole gape in the air, clenching around nothing, as his body thrums with the pulsing need to be full again. He trembles.
“Oh,” he says in a small voice.
Suguru ignores him. He holds the plug up to examine. It’s not exactly sizable, Satoru thinks. Probably on the smaller end, if anything. But Suguru still turns to look at him, eyebrows raised.
“How’d you fit all this in there?”
He can’t resist preening. “Lots of dedication.”
“You did so well. Go lie down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Satoru plops onto the bed and crawls up to the headboard, settling himself with legs out and arms behind his head. His blood sings happily in his veins, his muscles are loose and relaxed. A gentle warmth pools in his stomach. It only grows as he watches Suguru navigate his room in the dim light; first heading to the small bathroom to wash his hands, then bringing a glass of water to bed and handing it to Satoru. “Sit up and drink,” he says, distracted, walking over to the desk across from the bed and rifling through the drawers. He comes back carrying Satoru’s familiar bottle of lube.
He hands the empty glass back to Suguru. “You’re not worried I’ll piss myself?” he asks lightly.
Suguru nearly chokes on air. “So we can talk about that now?” he says, once recovered. He sets the glass on the desk and sits on the bed. “Even if you did, I think it’d be hot. As long as you were okay.”
“Well, I couldn’t be that okay if I was pissing myself.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“You should know by now.”
Suguru rolls his eyes, and his chest aches in the best way. Satoru surges forward to kiss him, then drags him down to the bed on top of him. They make out for what feels like hours. Both of them end up on their sides at one point, legs tangled together, and Satoru reaches out to fondle Suguru’s balls, thumb rubbing against that one spot, and Suguru’s knee jerks up instinctively, bumping into Satoru’s ribs. Several moments of struggle later and Satoru climbs on top of Suguru’s hips, pinning him to the bed.
His hand dips back down to Suguru’s balls. “Before I was so rudely interrupted,” he says sternly, and presses just a bit harder than necessary.
Suguru moans unabashedly, practically humping Satoru’s arm.
“Weirdo,” he mutters.
Suguru blinks up at him and grins. “You gonna spread your cheeks for me?”
“Oh, you need help?” But Satoru still diligently scoots further up and spreads himself with one hand. The next moment one of Suguru’s slick fingers is rubbing at his entrance.
It glides in smoothly, without a trace of resistance. Suguru trails gentle fingertips over Satoru’s hip with his other hand. A second finger slips in, just as easily as the first.
“You’re letting me in so nicely,” Suguru murmurs. “It used to take half an hour to get you this far.”
“That—hah—sounds like an exaggeration.”
“Can you take three?”
A third finger presses against his hole. Satoru tenses instinctively. His muscles clench around Suguru’s fingers.
“Fuck, Satoru. That’ll feel so good around my cock.”
“Give it to me,” he says impatiently, with a high note. He tries to push his hips down but Suguru moves the finger away. “Don’t stop!" he exclaims.
Suguru shushes him. “Easy, we’re going slow. There's no rush. Open up for me, baby.”
The finger returns with an experimental nudge, then Satoru gasps as it slowly pushes into him. He clenches again as a shiver rolls through him. Suguru rarely uses any sort of affectionate term with him. Distantly, he thinks Suguru could probably work his whole fist in as long as he kept up a constant stream of sweet nothings.
“You feel so good,” Suguru continues. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel you like this again.”
He sounds so serious. It’s terrible. Satoru nibbles at his shoulder, but the next second he caves. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to again,” he admits.
Suguru’s fingers pause momentarily. “Satoru. I practically spent a lifetime of its own between your thighs during high school. I know I—"
Satoru quickly moves to silence his lips. “It’s not about you leaving. I know I made it bad, the last time. We could have had better.”
“You could have had better.”
“We both could have. Anyway, stop being sentimental with your fingers in my ass.”
“You’re the sentimental one,” Suguru insists, but he goes back to the task at hand without another word. He fingerfucks him for a bit, letting him get used to the sensation of movement after the stagnant weight of the plug. Once Satoru has started rutting against his stomach and drooling precum, gnawing at his bottom lip to fight back the desperate sounds clamoring to escape, Suguru appears to take pity on him.
“How do you want it?” he murmurs. “On top it'll feel bigger, but you’ll have more control. If you want to roll over instead, I can go slow. I know you’re a pillow princess, so bottom’s probably better for you.”
Satoru lifts his head up. His eyes take a second to adjust, and he realizes there’s a line of drool at the corner of his mouth. Gross. He hopes Suguru can’t see. Then the words fully sink in.
“Pillow princess?” he repeats indignantly. “Who’s been fucking who all these years?”
Suguru gives him a look. “Satoru.”
“Don’t just say my name like that’s an answer!”
“…You know I do most of the work, right? When I ride you, that barely counts as you fucking me. That’s like me fucking myself with your dick.”
Satoru takes advantage of his position to reach down and twist Suguru’s nipples. Suguru just moans and arches his back. “Ugh,” Satoru says. “You whore.”
“So…how do you want it? Bottom? Bottom for the bottom?”
“Again, you have literally been the bottom for almost a decade running. I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s gonna be the top for me.”
“…Satoru.”
“Suguru!”
“If you say so.”
“I do! Although according to you, apparently it’s just like I’m fucking myself, so maybe it won’t even count!”
“Oh, no. It’ll count. I’m not a pillow princess, so it’s different.”
“…”
“Satoru?”
“Well, what are you waiting for? I’m on the top, now put your dick in!”
Suguru just gives him a look, wearing a calm smile, and strokes down his sides. Satoru glares at him, but after a minute or so his breathing settles and then he winces slightly.
“...Sorry. I really do want it.”
“I know.”
“Your cock is making me crazy, Suguru.”
“That’s okay. You can have it.” Suguru’s hands drop down to Satoru’s waist and urge him up slightly. One of the hands disappears, and the next second he can feel Suguru’s hard cock positioned beneath his entrance. “As long as you want it. You’ll tell me when to stop?”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “When? Don’t be so pessimistic. Say if.”
“Fine. You’ll tell me if you want to stop? I need you to promise or I can't do this. Last time—I can’t ever do that again.”
Satoru wonders what he remembers. It feels like another lifetime to him now. All this time since, and they’ve still never talked about it—not really. Not more than a few words and the occasional vague reference.
Maybe after tonight, they’ll be brave enough to sit down and discuss it. He suddenly very much wants to hear how it was from Suguru’s perspective.
“I promise,” Satoru says.
Suguru gives him a look as he rubs his cock over his entrance but makes no move to push in.
Satoru heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I promise to tell you to stop if I feel unwell. Just so you don’t get piss and/or vomit on you. Ugh, Suguru, I’m so disgusting—mmmfuck.”
Suguru’s still holding his cock carefully, only now he's feeding the tip in. There’s barely any resistance, but with Suguru going slow out of an abundance of caution, every centimeter that slips into him is a new, overwhelming adjustment. “Don’t say that,” Suguru murmurs. “Tasting you makes me forget every curse I’ve ever had to eat. You’re the only thing that’s not disgusting.”
He pushes deeper, and several thick inches slide in at once. Predictably, Satoru’s walls spasm. He lets out a tense breath and sinks his forehead down to Suguru's neck, mouthing at the warm skin there.
“Too much?”
“No!” He hits Suguru’s chest. “Don’t stop.”
“Alright.” Suguru moves both hands to grip Satoru’s ass. He kneads the soft muscle appreciatively. “Hey—did you like when I used to slap your ass?”
Satoru isn't listening. He lifts his hips experimentally and drops them. Suguru’s cock sinks deeper into him; it’s nearly to the base now. He moans in frustration. “Why are you so big.”
Suguru laughs. “I’m not that big.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. We all measured our dicks once, in second year. Do you remember?”
“Nngh,” he says, bouncing lightly. Sparks go flying up his stomach, traveling through his whole body, down to the tips of his fingers. “Maybe?”
Suguru’s voice is as steady as ever. It drives Satoru mad. He needs to make him lose control. He starts fucking his hips down with renewed vigor, but he slides deeper than he meant and all the breath gets knocked out of him at once.
“Well, I was average. You were bigger than me. Think of how much I’ve suffered all this time.”
Satoru snorts. “Please. You take my cock easy. I could probably fit in a few fingers, too, and you’d go wild—oh?” The cock inside him twitches, and then brushes against something that makes his vision go blurry. “Oh! Suguru, baby, please, you hit it, keep—”
“Remember who was biggest?”
“Oh my god! I don’t care!”
“Mind your manners, Satoru.”
“Nnngh, okay, I’m sorry, just please—oh my god. It was Nanami, wasn’t it?”
“So you do remember.” Suguru goes back to fucking him. Now that he’s trying to hit that angle, each stroke sends electric waves rippling through Satoru. “Good boy.”
“To me,” Satoru says in between moans, “you’ll always have the biggest cock.”
“Something I neither want nor deserve,” Suguru says. “But thank you, Satoru.”
Satoru can no longer respond. Each time he sinks all the way down, he never wants to move again, and yet his hips somehow have a different agenda, and they keep dragging him back up, only to slam back down. The way Suguru's cock rubs against his inner walls sends sparks dancing through him, amplified whenever he presses up against that tight bundle of nerves, and his whole body spasms. He can barely remember how it felt last time, the two of them together. All he had thought about then was getting Suguru off, and making sure that it happened inside of him. Like that would somehow make him stay. Hah, he thinks. Maybe if he had been a girl. He bears down roughly on Suguru's cock and delights in the low noise that hums in his throat. In another life. This time, he can't imagine forgetting a single second of their friction, the ballooning sense of being filled until he can't think, knowing how long it took to get here, that this is the first time Suguru's gotten his dick properly wet in a decade—fuck, that thought alone could make him cum.
Absently, as he begins to lose himself to their steady rhythm, he wonders how they would look, just like this, in a mirror—how old would he look, would they look good together, how much would even be visible, his own cock pressed tightly between their bodies, Suguru's tucked away safely—would it be lewd? Would it look dirty, dirty the way he felt finger-fucking himself for the past month, the way it felt to be alone in a bathroom thinking about a stranger's cock raping him, soiling his insides just so that Suguru would come and find him used and broken and discarded but still patiently kneel and clean out Satoru's slobbering hole, telling him how sweet and brave he was.
He would have sooner run into traffic than admitted it when they were younger, but he likes to imagine Suguru, in whichever way he has been, teenaged and naive, grown and unapologetic, stepping into his childhood bedroom and lifting him from the futon to examine all his little cuts and bruises, to thumb at his torn underwear and smooch his feverish forehead, murmur quiet comforts into his ear and let Satoru bury himself against him. Sometimes he even likes to think about Suguru fitting his cock into him then, one night that he could have exactly what he wanted as he wanted it, and it feels dirty to think about, to even acknowledge, but after all this time it still fills him with a giddy lightness and he thinks now, in a sharp surge, that if he told Suguru, he could have it for real, as real as it gets.
He decides he doesn’t want to see himself like this. It doesn’t matter how old he is, how long it took to get here. His seventeen-year-old self would never forgive him if he didn’t appreciate every second of Suguru finally fitting inside him. And he already has the best view, anyway, sitting up here.
After an indeterminable amount of time, Satoru’s legs can no longer faithfully support the repetitive movement, and he collapses to Suguru’s chest, not even bothering to pull off. He enjoys how full Suguru makes him feel. Even if the heat in his stomach has mostly settled into a soft blanket, rather than a raging wildfire, he still feels a spark of sharp, liquid pleasure when Suguru’s cock shifts inside him.
Suddenly, a warm, gentle weight wraps around his cock.
“Uagh,” he says. He can’t even lift his head. It feels like somehow he reached the point of overstimulation without ever coming once. Part of him is outraged at that, and the other is too content with this exact moment to even care.
“Satoru.”
Like always, he feels something deep within him stir at the sound of his name in that voice, and more so now than ever, with how fucked-out and raspy it is.
“Hey, say something.”
He repeats his groan more insistently.
Suguru swats his ass. “Something intelligible.” Then he stiffens slightly.
Somehow, Satoru is already ahead of him. He nestles further into Suguru and reaches back to squeeze the hand, hanging uncertainly in the air, and brings it back down solidly on his ass.
“I do like it,” Satoru mumbles. “I never answered earlier, sorry…We got distracted by Nanami’s massive cock.”
Suguru groans. “Don’t say that.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk about it so bad.”
Suguru makes a low noise, which means he disagrees but doesn’t have the energy to keep arguing.
A little later, after Satoru has come back more to his body, the heavy weight in him starts to jostle some things in his stomach. He feels his cock begin to take a renewed interest.
“Hey, Suguru,” he starts.
“Yes?”
“I want to cum.”
“Sure, baby.”
“And I want you to cum in me.”
“…Again?”
“Huh?”
Suguru laughs softly. He leans forward to lift Satoru off his lap, and when his cock pops out, Satoru instantly feels the old, familiar sensation of warm cum shifting in his insides.
“Fuck,” he says as he gingerly moves to lay down beside Suguru. He can feel the liquid starting to trickle out of his hole. “You came? Without me?”
Suguru shoots him a look of disbelief. He swipes a finger across his stomach and holds up a fingertip of cum, then pops it into his own mouth. Satoru wrinkles his nose.
“That’s your cum, Satoru. You stopped answering me after you came, though. I was worried.”
“Hmm.” He replays their conversation. “Wait—so it’s reasonable for me to ask to cum again, but unreasonable to want you to cum inside me more than once? Make that make sense! And don’t bring age into it.”
“Well—that’s simple.” Suguru reaches over to rub his stomach. “You’d get too full.”
Satoru rolls into him. “You can’t say that! Fuck, that makes me so hot. Please fuck me again, fill me up with your cum, Suguru. Knock me up—mmph!”
“And you can’t say that,” Suguru says lowly. He’s braced over Satoru now, boxing him in. His cock pushes eagerly into Satoru's loose hole. “I think you’ll like it on bottom.”
“Cunt—oh my fuck—too much, too much!"
Suguru pulls out, alarmed, and Satoru throws his head against the pillows. “I didn’t say pull out! Just go slower—mmm, yeah, like that."
Suguru lifts up Satoru’s right leg and hooks it over his shoulder. The stretch feels fantastic in a sort of aching way and the next push sinks even deeper. A guttural noise escapes him. Suguru echoes it with a rough sound of his own, and Satoru squeezes tight around his cock.
Suguru hums appreciatively. “You feel perfect. I could never get enough of this. I could cum right here,” he punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, “every day and still need more.”
“Good thing I have another hole, then.”
A surprised laugh tears out of Suguru’s chest. “Yeah, that’s lucky.”
They stop talking for a bit. Neither of them has the capacity to keep up a dialogue as their pleasure rapidly builds toward a second climax. Satoru squirms more the closer he feels himself get to the edge, the pressure becoming almost unbearable until he can’t keep quiet anymore. He whimpers, thrashing beneath Suguru as something white-hot flashes through him.
“Gonna, gonna cum,” he chokes out. “Suguru—don’t laugh, but. I’m—scared.”
Suguru drops his leg so that he can lean back in, pressing them tightly together, and claims Satoru’s mouth. His tongue is gentler than usual, coaxing Satoru to open up, melt around him, and in some odd, unexpected twist, the gentler Suguru is with his mouth, the slower his thrusts become, the hotter, more uncontrollably Satoru burns.
He still can’t keep still, even pinned like this. He nearly bites down on Suguru’s tongue and then pants out a string of apologies.
“Satoru,” he hears. He clings tightly to the voice. “I’ll cum first. Don’t be scared. You’re the only reason I’m never scared.”
The thrusts inside him speed up, hitting up against something deeply satisfying, little noises jerked out of him each time, and then all at once, the movement goes still. Suguru’s cock empties inside of him, filling him for the second time. Satoru smiles dazedly and leans back against the pillows.
Then he remembers his own escalating pleasure. It’s still there, a wave just before him—about to crash over his head and possibly drown him. He thinks he’ll surely run out of air before it dissipates.
“Hey.” It half-startles him, but then Suguru’s voice, washing over him, replaces all thoughts of incoming tidal waves. Here's something he would gladly drown in.
“What did you mean earlier? About Tuesday? I know I joked, but really—what did you mean?”
Satoru whimpers. “Too cruel, too cruel—now you’re asking me? I was very straightforward—today is just a boring Tuesday, just like every other day.”
“...Every other day?”
“Yes! Yes, Tuesday and every day. Find a new day of the week, an eighth day, and then you can worry. Okay? Now, please—don’t tease me!”
Suguru’s hot breath suddenly tickles against his ear.
“I said don’t tease, you bastard!” Despite cursing him, Satoru laughs. He tries inching away from the assault but Suguru chases after him.
“Satoru,” he murmurs. “You’re the only reason I still care about this world. Let me see you cum on my cock, just once.”
And that’s all it takes.
Satoru gasps as the pressure suddenly overflows, bursts, and he’s flooded with a thick rush of scorching pleasure. It razes through him in seconds before burning out, but just the memory of it alone has him lying unresponsive for minutes afterward. He twitches at each brush of the sheets against his skin when he moves, but when warm, broad arms wrap around him and pull him into a tight embrace, all he wants is to sink deeper into it.
“Suguru,” he murmurs in response to something he can’t remember. “Thank you.”
When he opens his eyes next, there’s a blanket around his shoulders and black hair in his face. He almost sneezes but fights it off to brush the hair out of his eyes. He blinks and Suguru’s form comes into shape in front of him, yet facing away. His own arm is thrown over Suguru’s waist, and their legs are tangled together.
Unbelievable. Suguru always says that he’ll let Satoru be the little spoon, but every time he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’s sleeping like this, very decisively not the little spoon.
With a huff, he gets his bearings. His cock feels like it’s been milked dry—wonderful. His ass—well, that’s something he hasn’t felt in years. Wrecked. And still wet. Hmm. He’ll give Suguru the benefit of the doubt, say that they just fell asleep at the same time. If he wakes up in the morning and Suguru hasn’t cleaned him up at least a little, he can be pissed.
He flexes his fingers and toes. He feels oddly…energetic. Like he could run a half-marathon. Or two. What time is it? He cranes his neck backward to peer at the curtains, but he can’t see any light peeking behind them. Must still be late, then. Or very early. Too early to be awake. He yawns, and looking critically at Suguru’s muscular back, he decides on his course of action.
He starts by pushing Suguru’s hair up, off his neck, and latching onto the vulnerable skin there, kissing and licking, using just the faintest hint of teeth, until Suguru stirs slightly. Satoru almost feels bad about bullying him. He moves lower down his neck, closer to his shoulder, and sinks his teeth in.
Suguru pushes him off, seemingly without waking up. His breathing remains even.
“Ridiculous,” Satoru mutters.
But fine. He moves on from being delicate. He pushes down on Suguru’s shoulder until he has no choice but to roll onto his back, and from there, Satoru yanks on his right arm until Suguru begrudgingly rolls onto his left side and inadvertently lines up behind Satoru.
He tucks Suguru’s captive arm tightly to his chest and pushes his ass back until he’s satisfied that they’re touching everywhere they could possibly be touching, bodies as two parentheses, inseparable at last.
Ah. He sighs quietly. Perfect. His body is light, bracketed by Suguru, safe, his head rests on a soft pillow, his feet are warm, and his cock is spent. He feels like he could lay here forever and a day without a single worry. He squeezes Suguru’s arm reflexively.
“Satoru…?”
His voice is even raspier now, and Satoru luxuriates in the full-body shiver that rushes through him. He sounds barely conscious.
“Mm?”
“Did you move me?”
“…No.”
“Liar.”
“You wanted to. You said it was my turn to be the little spoon.”
“That doesn’t…sound like me.”
“That’s what I said, but how could I refuse you, all cute and half-asleep?”
A hand sneaks beneath the covers to pinch his ass. Satoru jerks forward. “Bastard,” he mumbles.
A sleep-heavy laugh answers him, rumbling low against his neck. “They all call me that.”
“They call you much worse,” he corrects, a hint of reality sneaking in. He welcomes it. He’s not afraid of the dark. Just like he’s not afraid of the daylight. He’s had more than double the time he ever knew high-school Suguru to live and walk in this world—not the one he would have chosen, but the one he ended up with, anyway.
“Suguru.”
“What?”
“I love you,” he says easily. And look at that—is that what he was calling a secret, all this time? He almost laughs. The giddiness he thought he would feel, the anticipation, is conspicuously missing.
“…Liar.”
Now Satoru laughs for real. That’s okay. He didn’t think Suguru would instantly understand after this night. He knew it would take more than letting Suguru’s cock into his ass to make him understand. He knew it, and his eyes are still suddenly wet. He blinks them quickly.
Suguru can say what he will, say that he is convinced of his mission, that his path is the only path forward, that he will never turn back. He can say all that, but when he still, after all these years, refuses to accept that anyone could love him, anyone not strictly dependent upon him for food, for shelter, for community—it all falls apart. To Satoru, anyway.
Did he decide, that day in autumn, he would become a person impossible to love? If he did, he should have known, should have expected, that Satoru would spend the rest of his life making it possible. Why else be the strongest, if the impossible could become possible all the times except when it mattered?
Now that he’s here, Suguru wrapped around him in their bed, he can say with certainty that he is grateful Toji couldn’t kill him. For a long time, even after he started seeing Suguru again, he still thought about dying—about dying back then, how it would save everything, or at least, how it would save him. Because he would never know what came next. He would never have to say goodbye.
But he loves this Suguru. He loves him how he loves Suguru’s high-school self because he can now admit to himself, for all their differences, they are also the same.
He presses a kiss to Suguru’s hand. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he whispers.
Then he closes his eyes.