Chapter Text
***
12/25
It starts with some kind of stupid joke, which both instantly forget about after a few seconds, but then Gojo Satoru thought it was very, very funny and he was sitting next to Megumi, preventing her from doing math.
Mathematics was not his favorite subject, the stupid old teacher at school explained everything very poorly, so it was completely logical that Satoru sometimes studied with him in the evening additionally.
Megumi sat at the kotatsu, looking irritably at an example in which he made some mistake again - because Gojo said that the answer was wrong even when he had completely solved it, but, of course, now Megumi himself had no idea where he had made a mistake on the whole page — and tried, actually, to find this error. Gojo was sitting next to him, chatting about something, as always, making it a little difficult to concentrate, but at the same time maintaining a pleasant atmosphere so as not to sit in silence at all.
He's telling some kind of joke that Megumi doesn't pay any attention to, because he's busy, it's ten o'clock at night and he has to go to school tomorrow, and homework still hasn't been done, because he has a mistake in this very homework. It's a draft, of course, but then he'll still need to copy it into a school notebook.
And that's when Satoru pokes him in the cheek. Megumi shoves this finger away from herself, having long been used to such an attitude, but he is shoved again, and then again. A finger pokes at his forehead, shoulder, then back, and Megumi, irritated by these actions, grabs his hand and looks at his irritant very displeased, curling his lips, and saying with just a glance: "Fuck off."
Gojo just laughs at this look:
"That's a funny joke, Megumi!
"I'm busy," he says in response, pushing away someone else's limb a little more rudely and staring at the notebook again.
He is tired and he wants to sleep; tomorrow math and homework are not ready, but they will definitely ask him, because this teacher is always picking on him because of his "hooligan" behavior. And it's not that grades from a simple, non-magical school could ever be useful to him, but it's the principle to graduate with honors. Megumi is willing to study as much as he wants so that he gets the best grades in this stupid subject, even if it means doing math with Gojo, who is unfairly good at it and who is now very distracting to him.
Damn, where exactly did he go wrong?
Suddenly, a hand rests on his shoulder; Megumi resists the unexpected force, but it surpasses him in many ways and presses, so it's not surprising that a second later his back falls roughly to the carpet. He's about to put his hands up and free himself that way, but there's only a smug chuckle from above when Satoru intercepts them right in the air. He has strong arms, so Megumi only flutters uselessly when he is held with one hand somewhere on top, pinned to the floor.
He growls, looking irritably at Gojo. He grins and teases, sitting on top of Megumi and, okay, this is not the weight that his twelve-year-old body can withstand without consequences. He chokes on air, trying to free himself from the tight grip, but all his attempts hit the wall in vain, because it is simply impossible to move Gojo Satoru from his place if he does not want to. Satoru, as if mocking, rises up, and then sits down on him again, even heavier than before, although now not on his stomach, but on his legs. It doesn't make it any easier anyway.
For all the useless attempts to get out, the man just giggles. Megumi growls, and then feels fake-tender fingers touching the side of his body. He freezes warily, looking directly at Gojo, and Gojo only stretches his lips more in a smug grin. His eyes are now under a bandage, his face is tilted over Megumi, so his white hair falls apart on the sides of his head in a strange way. Megumi just silently looks somewhere in the center of the bandage, pursing her lips in silence.
—Don't ignore me, Megumi-chan!
—Let go,— Megumi says, warning.
— Nah! — He says cheerfully.
Megumi feels the fingers on his ribs begin to tickle him. He involuntarily holds his breath, but they only bite harder, teasing his protruding bones; air involuntarily escapes from his mouth, and then he begins to twitch and laugh against his will, trying to get out from under a strong body.
Each of his attempts is even more useless than the previous one; Megumi laughs and laughs, his eyes even start to water, and there is not enough air in his lungs. At some point, a hand rests on his ribs, no longer tickling. It even calms him down a little, because now his whole body hurts from those strong convulsions of laughter that were squeezed out of him by force.
He breathes raggedly, closing his eyes, and then opens them again and stumbles upon an impudent grin that he wants to erase from this face. Megumi opens her mouth to express her displeasure when she unexpectedly hiccups even to herself.
They both freeze, staring at each other. Gojo's face probably expresses the same surprise that Megumi himself feels, but a few seconds later he is covered with humiliation and burning embarrassment that creeps over his face, turning red.
Megumi hiccups again when Satoru, giggling again, says:
"That's so sweet, Megumi!
Fushiguro tries to get out again, kicking, but nothing comes out.
And then he decides to connect his legs as well. Of course, there's an unaffordable weight on his feet right now, but what else is left? He puts his heels on the floor, bends his whole body sharply and quickly, his knees rise for a second or two. If Satoru is surprised, he doesn't show anything; only his hand goes down from his ribs, touching Megumi's stomach to keep his balance.
His palm is hot, is the first thing Megumi understands. Of course, his body is also a little hot right now, because he's been laughing, it seems, for ages because of the tickling, besides, he's hiccupping now and he's really short of air; but a big palm literally covers his entire small soft belly and it's, well, not warm, but really hot, so, that the touch gives off heat all over the body.
It's strange, — a second thought comes to him. Gojo Satoru was the only person in Megumi's entire life who touched him so much. Of course, Megumi had parents who could give such affection, but then he was too young to remember everything. He doesn't even know his father's face, and his mother left them more than six years ago, and even then Megumi was a child who shunned touching and some kind of affection. His sister is more gentle in this sense, but Fushiguro usually has little interaction with her in this regard, so it is Gojo Satoru who touches him. Well, the only one who touches him. He can pat his hair, grab his shoulders, hug or even take his hand ("There are cars here, Megumi, let me be a responsible adult, come on!"). But for some reason this touch is not the same as usual and it is strange. Not bad and, well, not strange-good, as usual. It is there and it is somehow new.
I want more, — he realizes fleetingly and so far away that he does not even really understand this desire. What does it even mean?
— Hey, Megumi, how are you? Gojo suddenly asks, releasing his hands and sitting down next to him, watching him with interest.
Megumi blinks and sits down as calmly as possible, resting her back against the sofa next to her. He feels strange — lost — and this is not a feeling that is pleasant to feel. Before he even realizes it, his small palm touches the very place where Gojo Satoru's hand was recently.
It was felt most strongly below the navel.
—Hmm,— Satoru drawls, tilting his head to one side and slightly furrowing his eyebrows. — Was it unpleasant for you?
"It's weird,— Megumi says. He presses his lips together, pressing harder and listening to the sensations, but it's completely different.
It's, well, it's just his hand.
Gojo's hand felt completely different.
— Is it strange? Satoru asks. His finger lifts the bandage and Megumi, as always, stares straight into the blue eye, not intending to look away first. It's not that he's done it at least once; for some reason it's hard to withstand this attentive gaze, which seems to look into the very soul. — How is it strange?
"I don't know,— he frowns, touching his stomach again, and then resting his hands on the floor on his sides with displeasure.
Gojo Satoru is silent for a while, and then offers:
— I can touch you again.
Here's the thing — Gojo Satoru never asks anything and Megumi figured it out pretty quickly. If he wants to do something, he goes ahead and does it, and your opinion plays almost no role in his decisions. Fushiguro would like to believe that this is only because he is a child, but at the moment he knows enough to understand that this is just such a character in a person.
Usually Gojo just does it; sometimes he can tell you what he's going to do, and in this case all you can do is just express your displeasure, which will just amuse a man, no more. But there are very rare moments when Gojo Satoru says "I can" and usually it means that, yes, he can, but he can do everything and now Megumi can say "no" or something like "come on, it's nothing and in general, don't bother me with studying" and then they just both of them will pretend as if this strange situation did not happen.
But Megumi really felt something; he knows it, he just doesn't understand what it is. But it was also from the fact that he would just shrug his shoulders and return to mathematics, this strangeness will not disappear anywhere, and Fushiguro usually likes to deal with problems right away, so as not to postpone anything for an unknown period.
So he just fidgets a little, sitting comfortably on the soft gray carpet and slightly spreads his legs apart, throwing one over Gojo's knees. You have to stretch out a little bit, but this is basically normal, even if it is a little uncomfortable. The man, for his part, frowns and moves closer. Megumi accidentally swallows saliva when she realizes that the bandage has been pulled somewhere around her neck, and then quickly looks down at her stomach before his close attention is noticed.
A large palm slowly rests on his stomach. It's warm. Megumi notices smooth and neat nails, cut short. Megumi knows that Gojo doesn't have calluses, because his technique prevents any of them from appearing, and there are no scars and his skin color is a little lighter than Fushiguro himself.
— Is it okay? I don't see any oddities," Gojo snorts, not taking his gaze off his stomach and his own palm.
For some reason, this close attention does something to Megumi's internal organs. It feels strangely uncomfortable, but it is completely different and he only frowns more when he realizes this. Megumi tries to remember the feeling that she had at the first, accidental touch, and it is at this moment that Gojo moves, pressing his palm harder.
It's not as strong as it was the first time; but it's not as weak as it was just now. The feeling of strangeness returns.
— Can I push harder? I'm something..." he tries to find a word. It's literally on the tip of his tongue, but no matter how hard Megumi tries, he still can't catch it. — I feel it.
"You can feel my palm," Gojo tells him slowly. His voice sounds thoughtful, but before Megumi has time to say a word to this mockery (because it's clearly a mockery!) the palm presses harder.
Again, it doesn't hurt, it's not too much and it's quite normal, but the feeling of strangeness increases — it, or rather she, the palm, touches Megumi in a different way. It's completely different and he feels it.
— Well? — they ask impatiently.
—This is it,— Megumi says carefully, lifting his head and barely holding this strange control of something in his body, because the white head and stupid eyes turn out to be much closer than he expected.
From this, his excitement suddenly increases and this strange feeling also becomes stronger. Megumi understands very clearly that their pose is very close and this is also strange. A couple of times Gojo fell asleep with him — or rather, Megumi himself could accidentally fall asleep from fatigue next to him, and he was never carried far away in such situations — but it's still not the same.
"I'm just touching your stomach and now I feel weird,— Gojo tells him. Then, a little mockingly: "Are you sure it's not hunger?"
Megumi is overcome with wild embarrassment when he realizes the words. He fidgets, pushing his back harder against the soft sofa, as if he wants to leave, but actually wants the opposite, because now he feels this incomprehensible something more and more. Therefore, he grabs Gojo's hand on his own; he allows, without interfering with his actions, leaving his palm in place. This touch on his stomach suddenly gives off heat, like some kind of incomprehensible electrical impulse that pierced him from head to toe. Fushiguro is embarrassed so much that he is probably covered in red from head to toe, but he says loudly and clearly what he is absolutely sure of:
— It's not hunger!
And pulls his hand towards himself.
His hand rests against his stomach under his actions; but it does not withdraw. Megumi suddenly feels it so strongly and clearly that for a brief moment it scares him to tremble, but he doesn't have time to be scared when something else happens, something stronger and all-consuming, something that hits him very hard in the head and all over his body. It's something in his stomach, something big - it's huge, it's just everywhere—everywhere-everywhere, it literally doesn't fit, but it's still so good!
Megumi has never felt so good — it hits him completely unexpectedly, loudly and deafeningly — he suddenly realizes that he is screaming from how good he feels. It's not so much a loud scream, as if it's just an expression of everything that just doesn't fit inside him, because there's no way this huge something and everything that's overflowing right now will fit into him, and that's not to mention his own feelings, which respond to all this, making him arch with a cramp.
He feels so good that he involuntarily pulls his hand harder on himself; it rests against his stomach again, but it does not rest and goes on and this is it —
Megumi exhales; the hand twitched and abruptly disappeared, and his consciousness faded at the same moment.
***
He slowly opens his eyes. Her mind is confused, sluggish, and her body is so terrible and heavy that Megumi involuntarily mumbles, breathing deeply. There is a wet bandage on his forehead, but it is already warm and it is a little unpleasant, although tolerable. The tongue slowly licks his lips and the boy does not hurry to open his eyes, although somewhere in his head the thought of school flashes, but he has already so obviously overslept it - and Megumi really does not feel well to hurry somewhere now, and even more so to sit in class.
— Are you awake? — for some reason, someone asks quietly from the side. Megumi turns this strange thought in her head for a while, and then realizes why this is the most "quietly" strange thing. Because it's Gojo's voice and it didn't even get recognized right away. And not because of the ringing in his ears, but because Gojo Satoru usually never speaks softly. He spoke loudly even when Megumi had a fever of thirty-nine and a half and needed to fall asleep to make it go away. — How are you?
—I'm thirsty,— Megumi whispers, not holding back a painful groan as she tries to sit up.
The bandage falls somewhere down on his legs, but his hand quickly removes it. Megumi doesn't have the strength to open his eyes yet, but his stomach hurts so obviously that he immediately puts his hand on it, rubbing the strange cramps that still don't go away.
A glass of water is carefully leaning against his lips. He doesn't even have the strength to take it into his own hands; he doesn't even try. Megumi just drinks to the end, and then carefully lays back on the pillow, so that a second later she turns on her side, in the fetal position, facing the man. His hand is stroking his stomach, but it doesn't help at all. All his efforts seem to be going the wrong way, and this thought is also strange, but there is nothing more appropriate than such a description.
"My stomach hurts," he says, opening his eyes a little.
Gojo turns out to be very close. He sits on the warm floor next to his bed and wets a white bandage in a basin, which he then pushes under Megumi's bed. He has no blindfold on his eyes or neck, instead of glasses, but even they are not on his nose, but on the floor next to him, which is very unusual. His clothes are different, but Megumi is much more worried about his bone-chilling gaze for some reason.
Gojo had never looked at him like that before. That look is both cold and terrible; Megumi doesn't remember much about yesterday, his memories are cloudy, but he has a firm belief that he didn't do anything wrong. However, this does not explain at all why they are looking at him like that now.
The scariest thing about Gojo's face is not the eyes at all. His eyes rarely change expression at all, it's always the same there, it's just either warm or cold, and Megumi usually never feels anything cold on herself. Now, apparently, the situation is not the same. But perhaps this cold is not directed at him? In any case, the most terrible thing about Gojo's face is not his eyes, but the rest of his face, because it is the one that is the clearest.
Usually the eyebrows are raised high and lie flat on his forehead, but he is tense. His lips are compressed into a thin, narrow line. Gojo doesn't squint, not like other people usually do — his lower eyelids are higher, but the eyelids above his eyes are the same as always, as if the upper part of his face is just numb, and everything else is so tense that he doesn't even try to control it.
"Very much?" Gojo asks quietly. — How many on a scale of one to ten?
—Eight,— Megumi says carefully.
Gojo nods, but doesn't move. Megumi closes her eyes because it's a little scary to look at a serious man and, frankly, he doesn't want to do it. They put a cold bandage on his forehead again and it brings only fleeting relief, because now his head is full of so many thoughts that he simply cannot fall asleep again to sleep, although he really wants to. Megumi doesn't know if he has a fever, but his head feels hot.
— Do you remember what happened? Gojo asks.
Megumi frowns. The memories elude him for a while, but he remembers something, albeit a little vaguely:
— I was doing math, you tickled me... then there was a strange feeling in my stomach…
"I touched it again," Gojo nods slowly, prompting.
"I pulled you,— Megumi says, agreeing, opening her eyes again. — And then... I don't remember.
Gojo looks at him in silence for a long time, saying nothing. Megumi fidgets, pressing harder on his stomach, which is cramping — ghostly cramps, because he is more than sure that everything is fine with his organs, but at the same time he feels pain, right?
—I think,— Satoru draws his attention. His voice is quiet, unusual and very thoughtful, and he speaks slowly, as if weighing his every word. It's very unusual. — That you pulled my cursed energy—well, to be more precise, my soul, because you were not interested in cursed energy at that moment — into your Realm of Shadows through touch. More precisely, through his stomach, where we found a separate vault. But there was so much of her— me — that you lost consciousness from the shock.
Megumi frowns:
"Is that why my stomach hurts?" Because there wasn't enough space?
Gojo makes a strange sound in his throat, as if he is choking and choking on air at the same time, but nods. He still doesn't take his strange, very intense gaze away from Megumi's face, and it's all really very strange, but in principle it sounds logical.
"If I touch you,— Gojo says very slowly. — Won't you pull my energy? What level of control do you have?
"I pulled it myself,— Megumi recalls, fidgeting again. The body feels very strange. His legs are shaking, weak, but this pain attracts much more, distracting from everything else. — I don't think anything like this should happen.
Gojo nods. He continues to stare intently, but Megumi only closes her eyes, trying to get comfortable.
— Megumi? Gojo calls him.
—Huh?— he mumbles back, opening his eyes again.
Gojo opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then closes it. Megumi sees for the first time that the man does not know what to say — or rather, how to say something - how he chooses words, how his lips move, only to shrink again a little later. He opens his mouth several times before taking a breath and finally making up his mind:
— Don't do that anymore, do you understand me?
Fushiguro frowns. Even in spite of his condition, he wants to argue. Not because he wants to deliberately do everything against Gojo, but simply because in part he does not understand the situation and wants to figure it out.:
"But it's part of my technique,— he says, frowning. — If I practice a little, then she should…
— You peed yourself.
Megumi can't even close her mouth in shock. He looks at Gojo, stunned, so out of his mind by these words that he doesn't even see anything. He becomes so ashamed, as he has probably never been in his life, and he wants to turn over to the other side, which he does, because, damn! This just can't be happening!
—Damn, I'm sorry," Gojo says, and it even sounds sincere. Megumi closes her eyes, unable to even look at the wall. He wants to die right now, consumed by all the shame that has come upon him so suddenly.
He's twelve and he peed himself! In your pants! Under Gojo Satoru!
—Listen,— Gojo says hastily. "You have a baby body, you're only twelve, but you and I both know that you don't wet your pants at night, right?" It just ricocheted off your technique and, yes, it's embarrassing, but none of us are to blame and — damn, Megumi — you have a normal bladder! It's just a damn energy shot through your body like that, okay?
Megumi cringes harder. Logically, he understands that his fault is really not there and — Gojo is telling the truth, because the damn energy is to blame for all this! This incomprehensible crap! — but he doesn't care now so, so, so ashamed.
— Megumi, at least give me a sign that you can hear me! Gojo speaks louder.
Fushiguro clenches his lips and awkwardly nods his head once. He's too ashamed to turn around and look at Gojo and he's not sure he can say anything right now. He suddenly realizes that he is wearing different clothes, that his hair is flattened as if it had also been shampooed, that this is not the T-shirt that he usually wears himself in the form of pajamas. They washed and changed his clothes before bringing him to the room on the bed and it's supposed to calm him down, but he just wants to disappear more and cease to exist in this damn world where he — he peed himself!
"I'll never tell anyone," Gojo says, sighing. — I promise to take it to my grave… However, Megumi, it's not your fault. If you want, you can be mad at me, after all, I didn't have time to take my hand away in time. What happened, happened, let's just pretend that it didn't happen, okay? But you and I both can't ignore your new feature... of the body, because now we know about it. I do not know what to do with it and would prefer to just postpone this issue until you are a little older to figure it out on your own, but we cannot allow you to activate it without realizing it yourself. If you control her, then we'll just put this matter aside.
"And if n—no?" He asks wetly and hates the way his voice sounds right now. It's pathetic and doesn't hide how he feels at all, because damn, what if he can't control it? Is he going to pee his pants every time just because someone touched his stomach?
It's horrible. This is it's terrible.
"We'll check it out when you're back to normal," Gojo says without hesitation. For some reason, it sounds firm and soothing, and Megumi sighs fitfully, calming down, even if it's incredibly embarrassing and terrible. This whole situation is terrible. "But I think you can control it because... you pulled me... into yourself... by yourself." While I was with you... while my hand was on your stomach, nothing happened, remember?
Megumi inhales raggedly, feeling her eyes watering. He nods, not knowing if Gojo sees it and wants nothing more than to erase the last few hours from their shared memory.
***
It happens like this: Megumi gets better in the evening, he just has a little hot head. He is unbearably ashamed and wants nothing more than to disappear when he has to face the fact that, lying in the bathroom, he looks somewhere towards his legs and waits for a big man's palm to be placed on his stomach.
Megumi chose the bath himself and decided to take the water himself in advance. He's wearing swimming trunks that Gojo took him and Tsumiki to the water park or the beach a couple of times and it's just unbearable to think about it, but Gojo said that he destroyed the clothes Megumi was wearing before and he promised to buy everything new if Megumi wants or if something goes wrong again.
Looking at your feet is also unbearable. Megumi can't physically make eye contact with Gojo, who is also clearly uncomfortable, so she has to look at the wall, at the blue tiles.
"I'm going to put my hand down," Gojo says after a few long seconds of silence, and nothing happens for a while.
None of them are moving. Megumi only swims a little in the water, although there really isn't much of it. At the same time, it's not like you can think of at least one place where he wouldn't be ashamed to accidentally pee in front of someone.
Gojo also hesitates, as if waiting for Megumi to stop him. Megumi is not going to stop him, because it is better to immediately dot the "I" and forget about it forever. What did Gojo say? Just wait until he gets older and can sort out his body on his own? This is the best idea, although Megumi is going to just ignore it all for the rest of her life.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a palm and it makes him wince in fear of his possible reaction, which he may not be able to control. The hand moves slowly, touches the clear water, and then also gently descends onto Megumi's stomach.
When nothing happens, he sighs with relief, squirming on his ass against his will. Gojo's hand is shaking, but he suddenly presses harder on his stomach.
— Do you feel something? "What is it?" he asks, stopping.
Megumi doesn't look into those eyes or that face. He's too ashamed to just look at Gojo, let alone look into those eyes that he knows, he damn well knows! — they will remember every moment perfectly thanks to their phenomenal memory.
"Just your hand," he says softly, swallowing.
The hand presses harder. It's... unpleasant, but it doesn't hurt or anything like that. It's just Gojo Satoru's hand and there's nothing new about it; Megumi is uncomfortable just because of the situation they both find themselves in.
Gojo's fingers gently press on some points. This makes Megumi's body twitch. Sometimes the fingers dig in really painfully, but nothing happens. Gojo tries in different ways, sometimes clarifying if he feels the same feeling, but Megumi really doesn't feel it. And he wasn't going to hide anything like that from the very beginning, because the consequences might be too humiliating for him to live with.
"Now try it yourself,— Gojo says, pulling away. — Focus on what you felt and try to find that boundary, but don't push it too hard.
Megumi purses her lips tightly. He wants to ask Gojo to leave, in case something goes wrong, but holds back and remains silent. He presses his hand so that his fingers point to the left side, where Gojo is currently sitting, and then concentrates.
— It's here! Megumi says, finding it right away. He glances at Gojo, but Gojo is not looking at him, but at the wall. At his words, he gets distracted and looks at his stomach and his little palm again. And then she shakes herself and abruptly looks away. — I feel like I can push, but if I don't push, then nothing happens.… It's weird though.
—Don't push," Gojo immediately says sharply, after which he shakes his head. — Now I see it. So now you know where it is; you know what not to do; and you can control it, right?
Megumi nods in relief:
- yes.
"You'll figure out the rest when you're older, but I'm going to go now," Gojo says, getting up from the floor and closing the door behind him.
Fushiguro only takes a relieved breath, hastily withdrawing his hand. He rinses his face, feeling incredibly relieved that nothing has happened, at least for now.
***
14/27
Megumi is fourteen when he finally realizes what happened.
It happens like this: he takes a bath, lazily looking at the ceiling. His hand somehow ended up on his stomach by itself, because over the past two years his hands have often reached out to his stomach, as if to make sure that nothing is happening and he can control himself. His fingers are poking, the damn energy is felt on the tips, it is felt on the stomach, but usually they never touch each other, these two energies, because… There's also this wall, which he knows if he pushes, embarrassment can happen.
Megumi is in the bathroom.
Megumi is fourteen.
Megumi slowly and very gently presses on this wall with her finger.
And — suffocates.
His stomach is shaking from what happened, and his cock is getting stronger fast. He suddenly realizes that it is pleasant to slide the cursed energy over what he accepts as a strange seal that leads to the opening of his soul. It's like his soul is a mountain, and this seal is just the entrance to a cave and it's just incredibly pleasant. But at the same time, it's obviously not a cave, but a wall, and he can feel this wall.
Megumi can't stop himself: he gently strokes this wall, runs along it carefully at first with his fingers, and then with the whole palm. This pressure is given not so much to his stomach as to his whole being, pulsating in his brain, it is here-here-here and at some point his legs are shaking, unable to cope with all the excitement that is crashing down on him. The cursed energy trembles at the tips of her fingers, Megumi presses harder, feeling that it only takes a little to stop some kind of edge.
And — he crosses it. It's so sudden and so incredible that his hand suddenly rests with all its might on his stomach, and then his fingers go on. Megumi doesn't even have time to take a small breath when he suddenly realizes simply and clearly that his two fingers, the smallest tips, they pushed apart the wall — walls of cursed energy that were actually his muscles — and it touched something in him that was very sensitive, tender, soft.
Megumi cums without touching herself.
And then a sudden realization occurs in his muddy head.
***
The fact is that Megumi cannot ask directly about what happened two, or even a little more, years ago. He and Gojo never talk about what happened that day—that day, to be more precise—having solved and closed this issue once and for all. However, even if Megumi does not have such a good memory as Gojo, this does not mean that he did not remember something about those events. He had a fever, he felt terrible about many things, but Megumi remembers the words he says and the words Satoru spoke to him very carefully back then.
How he couldn't find the words.
As he said, Megumi needs to deal with this himself when he gets older.
The way he looked at him. Megumi still can't understand those views, but now that he's fourteen, he thinks he partly understands them — although it's unlikely, because, well, a difficult situation (which Megumi still can't fully comprehend) really knocks all thoughts out of his head.
The problem is, he now wishes like hell he knew exactly what happened that night. Not when Megumi woke up in bed, but when this incomprehensible something happened. He remembers this woefully little: here is Gojo's palm on his small stomach, here he presses and says something about hunger. Megumi himself gets angry, grabs this big hand and pulls it towards himself.
The next moment, darkness.
Here's the thing: Gojo said he peed himself.
The situation is as follows: Megumi touched himself a little there and experienced an unprecedented orgasm.
He didn'T wet himself.
And now Megumi is both terribly embarrassed and terribly wants to know what really happened that night. For God's sake, Tsumiki was in the next room, she just couldn't help but hear something strange. But she never said anything and looked at him as usual. So, was there anything strange?
Could Megumi have experienced something similar that day, as he did today, two years later? Or did he really just pee himself? He was twelve then, after all, and at that age there may be both the first option and the second.
But Fushiguro understands perfectly well that it is better not to ask. This is the very moment when it is better not to really know, because Gojo Satoru was then twenty—five and if on his hands - even if it was not his fault, because how could Gojo know about such a feature of Megumi's body and technique, when even Megumi himself Did you just find out? — for the first time a twelve-year-old boy came, then this…
"You peed yourself"
Good words so that no one ever finds out about what happened. Fushiguro Megumi would never admit in his life that he peed himself at such a great age, even if it was not his fault and generally a terrible accident. Because of these words, he was silent as he had never been silent about anything, and he understands that these words could have been said for the sake of the two of them — because if anyone knew about the situation, it would cause so many problems — and just because it really happened.
He partly wants to know the truth in order to close this issue once and for all and now definitively. But his curiosity is not worth it for something strange to suddenly appear between him and Gojo. They discussed what happened two years ago, then closed the issue and felt very uncomfortable around each other for several weeks.
Damn it, Gojo Satoru touched him The shadow prostate. Megumi shoved this hand into himself, the hand of Gojo Satoru's soul.
Because he didn't stuff the body into himself then, he took something more. A small part of Gojo's huge soul. Maybe a couple of spiritual fingers. But Megumi's bodily fingers and Gojo's soul fingers are completely different things, because he himself, obviously, if he can stuff something of his own inside himself, then it goes with the body, and with Gojo it was different, because his body remained the same. It was as if, pushing that palm into himself, he separated the physical and the non-physical, taking the latter. And this last one turned out to be too big.
"Is that why my stomach hurts? Because there wasn't enough space?"
Megumi wants to die. Megumi wants to erase her existence once and for all. Megumi has no idea how he's been looking at Gojo Satoru for all these two years, because why the fuck did he remember what he said in a half-delirium?
***
Megumi is ready to thank all the existing Gods for the fact that Gojo Satoru wears a blindfold, because it is much easier and simpler to look at the blindfold than to look anywhere else. And even more so to look into the eyes. Nope. There's no way in his life he's going to look Gojo Satoru in the eye anymore. NO PLACE.
***
Here's the thing: Megumi usually promises himself a lot of things, but he never fulfills those promises that were not spoken out loud, that had no witnesses, that were just mental, given in a fit of passion, on emotions.
So, of course, when a week later Gojo Satoru suddenly took off the blindfold from one eye and Megumi, of course, looked — because how could he not look? The entire existence of the world was created specifically and only so that sooner or later humanity, with the help of evolution, could reach the stage at which these devilish eyes could arise," Megumi looked and shooed into the wall.
Into the wall.
Gojo's eye blinked once, twice. His lips stretched into a mocking grin. Megumi shyly averted his eyes to the side, in no case lowering his head down, on the contrary, slightly lifting his chin up, trying to preserve those pieces of pride that should live at least until his fifteenth birthday, which will be oh so long.
He suppressed the urge to rub his shoulder and winced a little, because there was a good blow to the temple, too. Satoru's action was so unexpected that when Megumi turned around and saw that people were looking at him, really looking at him, his body reacted before he even managed to understand what had happened. It was humiliating.
"Not as humiliating as peeing in his arms two years ago," a thought flashed through my head.
Damn it. Megumi hadn't thought about it for so long and now he just had to take it and remember, as if there was nothing else to do. Moreover, now he had other thoughts in his head, no less humiliating and suspicious, and therefore it was even worse, and Gojo Satoru was still looking at him right now, and he needed to say something.
—Fuck off,— he said as firmly and decisively as he could.
The man just laughed. Megumi suddenly realized that there was no point in killing himself if he could just kill the only witness of his entire life, which was more than full of all sorts of humiliations. Humiliations that exist at all are not Megumi's fault, but Gojo's fault. After all, if you kill him, Megumi's soul will be filled with a certain satisfaction.
Fushiguro squinted sourly and immediately looked away from those eyes, which seemed blue in the darkness of the corridor. As if this idiot could be so easily killed. It would be easier to kill yourself so that you would never experience this feeling of your own insignificance again.
***
Megumi is a teenager and he is fourteen. It's quite normal to hold a part of your body in your hands and it shouldn't be a shame, even if it's your penis and he plans to engage in self-satisfaction. That is, to jerk off. Especially when Megumi is alone at home, after training, when no one will come to him and no one will disturb him.
He's alone in the house and wants to jerk off. He's fourteen.
This, however, is still confusing. Touching yourself in a way you've never touched yourself before, looking at a part of your body that is tensing excitedly, blushing, getting hotter. How the veins stand out, feel your dick throbbing. It's very intimate and personal to see how the slit starts to get wet from above, how it opens up, red. To hold your hand, stifling your moans, because they are shameful anyway, and then, through eyes wet with pleasure, to see how the first white drop finally appears. And then there are more and more of them, until eventually your hand starts moving so fast, so abruptly, that at some point you stop controlling yourself, pitifully banging into your hand, until finally you feel this incredible orgasm that breaks through your whole body.
It's okay to masturbate, but Megumi still often can't get rid of the shame that always sits somewhere in her stomach. No one sees him, he is alone, but understanding that right now he is engaged in lewdness does not help at all. And this is something that he usually just puts up with, drowning out with something more real and tangible. Usually it's his own body—a specific part of it.
However, be that as it may, Megumi has a much more sensitive area at fourteen than nipples or penis. This area is his stomach.
The stomach can be touched in two ways:
First, it's when his hand is just lying on top. Megumi doesn't use the cursed energy in any way, so his hand just lies there. He is a teenager and it is quite normal that when his own hand lies below the navel, he feels the blood rush to a certain organ and there is an equally definite desire to do something. But it's controllable.
Secondly, this is when Megumi uses the cursed energy. If he uses it to strain his own stomach, then he feels as if he has strained his abs, but this is not a press, but, well, a wall of muscles that can be spread apart with a lot of effort. However, the cursed energy on his stomach in principle cannot excite him in any way (unless he concentrates on it too much, but damn, this is also normal. If any other teenager concentrates on his penis in this way, then he will also get aroused). If you direct the cursed energy only into your hand, then absolutely nothing will happen.
To touch these walls, which arise clearly only with the help of cursed energy, Megumi must concentrate it both in his stomach and in his hands. Because this is not a physical manifestation, but the manipulation of his energy and what is in his stomach somehow touches the soul and is not something that he can fully understand or explain now, and Gojo's help in such a matter is not only humiliating, it will also be completely useless, as well as any of his other explanations, because, obviously, geniuses born with the help of clan evolution think differently from ordinary people.
Concentrating the damn energy in two places at once during masturbation, when you're shaking from head to toe, when you're throbbing between your legs, when you're wet and when you're about to cum from some fingers on your stomach - it's incredibly difficult.
The first few times Megumi comes from stroking alone and it's humiliating, even if it's normal for his situation and his age.
But over time, this either becomes not enough, or his endurance grows stronger (Megumi puts it first, even if it's damn embarrassing. There is also a share of the second one here, however) and Megumi begins to try to push her ghostly finger into her soul.
And — it's terrible.
It's terrible, because his control is weakening, because Megumi is trying, he pushes, and his damn energy is trembling, because his whole body is throbbing, he is arching with excitement, he experiences several dry orgasms, not coming just because he is too tense with his whole body and cannot relax, trying to push his own hand — at least one finger, at least a phalanx, at least a little bit! — into the inner walls and he can't do it when he's so stressed.
This leaves him terribly disappointed. With a red sore dick, with tears in his eyes, when all the muscles are trembling and he does not even realize that he is crying quietly because his pleasure is so torn on the most desired. Yes, he can come by touching his penis with simple hands, yes, it's nice, but this is completely different!
It's terrible, because if he touches his penis, then the pleasure is too strong to concentrate the damn energy in two places at the same time. It's terrible, because Megumi has to leave himself alone to get some pleasure, and even in this case he can't come because he's too tense, and stimulation is so often on the verge, but still can't get to him.
At such moments, he just wants to die of humiliation.
***
Even more terrifying is that his condition, of course, does not go unnoticed by Gojo, because, of course, how could Six Eyes not notice it?
Megumi kind of wants to run away and never meet Gojo, because it's hard to see that man regularly whose eyes pick up any change in the damn energy. Megumi doesn't know if Gojo knows what he's doing, but it's more of a yes than a no, because it's a damn energy and Satoru is the best specialist in the last thousand years.
However, even if he might know, it doesn't stop Megumi from wiping the marks on her body well every damn time. Just in case. He regularly uses both hands so that the cursed energy and its control develop evenly and always, always the same. This even makes him almost ambidextrous, although, in fact, he does nothing but just stroke his stomach with his left hand.
Megumi also knows that if he doesn't concentrate on his stomach, then a wall won't appear there, hence Gojo can't see what condition it is in. Because he had never seen her before, although, as it was said after, he sees exactly when Megumi concentrates. However, he always drives all the damn energy through his body to mix it up and so that nothing outright remains.
It may work, but it may not work, because Gojo has nowhere to know what exactly Megumi is doing with her body and how. But at the same time, Gojo has supposedly already seen everything once, hasn't he? That's enough to know, with his memory, what Fushiguro is doing.
Maybe Megumi just doesn't cover her tracks enough, or maybe something else, but it's more like, yes, Gojo knows. But he may NOT know, and there's never anything specific to say here, which is annoying, because Megumi doesn't want anyone - even Gojo; especially Gojo — to know when and how he jerks off.
It's very personal.
If Gojo knows, he never says anything. Fushiguro doesn't know if he wants Satoru to ask, because maybe then he too might have the courage to ask what he should do with his damn body when concentration fails him at the right moment.
More precisely, it does not fail, but, yes, it does. Because of too much concentration on concentration, he cannot come, but if he relaxes, he will not have enough strength to be stimulated. There is no golden mean here, he has already tried it many times.
All these thoughts of the devil disappoint him; this whole situation is disappointing; for the first time he feels like an overexcited teenager who needs to take and touch his penis. That's just not the point of the penis — the body, which used to please him so well with simple caresses, having known the peak of pleasure, now does not want to be satisfied with the remnants, which are perceived by all this.
Megumi himself realizes that he is getting a little harsh, so he tries to keep himself in check, but the disappointment in himself and in his body incredibly sucks, so he can snap once or twice at Gojo, who sometimes seems to be deliberately trying to piss him off.
When a man unobtrusively asks what happened, Megumi is so disappointed in himself that for a dumb second he thinks to ask for help.
Gojo Satoru has the best, incredibly rare and unique ability to control cursed energy in a thousand years.
He would just be amazing in this case.
These thoughts are a separate disappointment for Megumi, so to the question "You've been too gloomy lately, are there really any problems?" He responds with a simple shrug, because he's not sure that his terrible mouth won't say something right now that will be one incredibly terrible sentence. An offer that will undoubtedly put them both in a very awkward position and this is not something Megumi wants to deal with, so she needs to control her mouth.
Fortunately, Gojo doesn't insist on a direct answer too much.
***
After his hands, Megumi awkwardly realizes that it is possible to cram something else that would not be his fingers.
The very first thought is Gojo's hand and this is what he now very much wants not to think about, so he immediately restrains the urge to hit himself on the head for such idiocy and teenage spermotoxicosis.
Megumi would never have thought that he might have spermotoxicosis, but that's where he is now and that's something he also has to just come to terms with.
The third second thought was, surprisingly... ahem, a comb. By an incredibly lucky coincidence, this is not a Gojo comb and you already have to thank the universe for that, however, this is his own comb and Megumi has been holding it in his hands for so long that he would not be surprised if it exploded or melted from the heat of his hands or some kind of awkwardness.
It's a simple black comb with a comfortable round handle that he bought himself about six months ago, when his own dick and teenage arousal hadn't hit his brain so hard yet. The soft teeth are a little further in the recess, but Megumi is sure it just won't get to them, and the handle is not too thick (the hand of Gojo's soul entered it, of course, but for the first time you definitely shouldn't shove something big). It's less than two of his fingers wide, and the very first time he swallowed several of Gojo's fingers, which are longer, thicker than his own, and then he was younger. Besides, the second time, when Megumi still had a weak understanding of what he was doing, he somehow managed to cram two whole phalanges of two fingers into himself in an unimaginable way, which at the moment is a record, because at least he remembers that.
Awkwardly, he checks the pen. It is smooth, not sharp anywhere, quite normal.
Megumi has no idea if he should use lube. His walls are always inaccessible to him, but first he wants to at least just try whether the comb handle will work, and after that he will think how it will feel.
And — no matter how strange it may be — Megumi tries, because otherwise he will remain so dissatisfied physically and psychologically that it is better to try and understand that nothing worked out than not to try and still be at zero of his emotional battery.
It's not as awkward as it was when he woke up with dirty underpants at thirteen from the emissions. Not as awkward as when he had an adult conversation with Gojo or when he first picked up his dick with such dirty intentions. It's still confusing, however, but Megumi feels much more interested inside because, well, it's his comb.
He can do whatever he wants with his comb and no one can stop him from doing it.
Abdominal wall occurs quickly and easily. Megumi tentatively touches his stomach with a comb, but since the wall is always a little further than the physical body, three or four centimeters, he presses the comb so that it can at least be near the limits.
And…
...Nothing.
The comb, of course, has no cursed energy and, of course, it does not have a soul, so it cannot let alone go inside, it cannot even touch this intimate and very sensitive place, which requires something to be shoved into it.
This is normal. Yes, it's disappointing, but Megumi understands the logic of her failed experiment.
And, in part, it easily tells him how to move on.
You just need to find a suitable item that will already be saturated with cursed energy.
Or, even better— feed it yourself.
The comb fits perfectly in this regard, if not for one big BUT.
Megumi can feed her with cursed energy, but after that, the cursed energy will leave a trace in her comb so that Gojo Satoru will surely notice it with his Six Eyes. Because no matter how smart Megumi was in managing his cursed energy, he had never heard anything before about pulling cursed energy out of a cursed object, usually they were just sealed, because it is also impossible to break a cursed object.
And if the cursed energy remains in the comb, then, firstly, it can mutate in a strange way. And, as strange as this thought may sound, the mutation of a lustful curse from a comb is not something Megumi would want to deal with, especially if Gojo can find out about it — and he damn well will, because he has All-seeing eyes that it is simply impossible to hide from, like No matter how hard you try. And if it's impossible to hide, then it's best not to even start.
Secondly, even the smallest particles of the cursed energy will still remain in the comb. And Megumi won't be able to notice or feel them, but Gojo will be able to see it even if he doesn't feel it.
Having a guardian with the Six—Eye technique is such a hassle, and Megumi didn't even realize it until he was fourteen. More precisely, he realized, but did not understand the real scale of the problem.
Okay.
He needs a damn thing to jerk off with.
It is urgently necessary to get it in some mystical way.
***
"The cursed blade?" Gojo's eyes are looking at him intently, looking up and down with interest. Megumi suppresses the urge to cringe and instead looks as indifferently as possible into both eyes that peek out from under her glasses. — I didn't know you were interested in sword fighting, this is something new.
Megumi continues to stare, pursing her lips slightly.
In principle, he doesn't mind doing extra work with the blade if he eventually gets this blade in his hands and it doesn't matter what the original reason is for him to need this weapon.
He rolls his eyes and hurries:
—Well, are you going to help me get it or what?"
— Of course I will help! — the man is indignant, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a half-embrace. Megumi looks ahead, where a long pale hand stretches out, drawing the prospects of his career as a magician with a blade or sword. — You will become just a wonderful samurai, my dear Megumi! You have everything for this: courage, perseverance, strength, striving for the impossible!
Why did Megumi feel even worse from each of his compliments? But it seemed to him that it couldn't get any worse!
Gojo easily and simply gave access to his numerous warehouses and also easily and simply helped Megumi choose the right — convenient — option.
***
The blade was obviously soaked from top to bottom with cursed energy and even if it was in a calm state, activating only after he aroused his cursed energy, it worked. More precisely, not the blade itself, of course, you can get hurt with it. But! The scabbard—it worked!
It was Friday's lunch. Megumi was completely and obviously free, Gojo was busy somewhere, Tsumiki went for a walk with her friends, planning to stay with them for the night, and if not now, Megumi had no idea when else he would be able to experiment in this way.
He was in the shower with the scabbard, the sword was lying somewhere in the room. Megumi carefully concentrated his soul, feeling the blood rushing through his veins from anticipation alone, after which he just as carefully leaned the edge of the dark blue scabbard against himself. At first, as it always did, it leaned against the physical body, but Fushiguro continued to slowly press it into his body. The skin gave way, easily bending, giving access to more space and then the scabbard could also easily touch the wall.
—Oh,— Megumi breathed softly, licking his lips. It felt solid. The scabbard was solid.
His hands pulled at the scabbard. It was as if the most ordinary steel had cut through his skin, reaching his organs, with the only exception that it did him no harm and was the most incredible thing Megumi had felt in all his less than fifteen years of life.
Because of the water, the scabbard was heated and felt warm. It was incredibly pleasant. Megumi also realized that the scabbard was small, or rather, they pushed apart all his shadow muscles, which filled all that space with their accumulation, but there were so many of these muscles in that boundless space that he definitely should not worry that something might not fit into it.
At the age of twelve, he accidentally plunged the huge fingers of Gojo Satoru's soul into himself. It would be worth guessing about this. They will definitely be the most that Megumi will be able to contain at all, so that in the future he will not look for. Nothing can be bigger than that hand.
He jerked his head back into the right frame of mind. Fortunately, it became clear that when the main first wall, this seal, was opened, it could not close because of the barrier and there was no need to concentrate on this. The scabbard was carefully inserted inside and Megumi breathed deeply, slowly examining himself, slowly inserting them, taking his time. As it turned out, he didn't need lube or anything like that, because he didn't feel any pain at all, only pleasure that something was finally able to get inside him in the right way!
His palms were sweating; it was hot. Megumi concentrated so much on the sensations in his space that he did not even immediately notice how much his body was aroused until it was too late — on another slow turn, the scabbard was suddenly shoved harder into one of the many walls and it was then that Megumi, without holding back, finished.
It was mind-blowing: abruptly, unexpectedly, right at the most sensitive point. So fast that he didn't even realize what had happened right away.
Fushiguro was breathing deeply, trying to come to his senses. Everything inside him was moving, sensitive, curious, feeling the scabbard, and he understood more clearly than ever exactly how this ability of his worked. Everything inside was him, all those muscles of his that he didn't have control over yet, but if he wanted to, he could get that control.
His palms were sweating. The teenager's eyes were closed, completely focused on sensitive and new sensations, so it took him a long time to notice something was wrong: only when his own hand suddenly leaned against his stomach.
The seal closed; without control and an object to open it, it could not remain in its ghostly manifestation.
Megumi ran his fingers over his stomach, outlined the weak cubes of the press, slid along the navel, and then touched his palm on top again, just covering. Warm water was pouring on his head, washing away the sperm and all traces of his recent act, so when he opened his eyes, there was nothing strange.
And that's why it took him a long time to figure out exactly what was wrong.
The scabbard was gone.
Megumi breathed shallowly, sitting up in panic and looking around. The shower water was pouring on top of his head, which now seemed to him not warm, but icy. He examined every corner of the tub, then, as if this option could even be possible, looked behind the tub, on the floor. I shifted my upper body to look under the bathtub.
There was no scabbard.
His hand went to his stomach. A terrible and incredibly obvious guess struck him so hard that his vision went dark for a while. His heart was beating like crazy, and his head was so empty that he couldn't hear anything at all for quite a long time.
The scabbard…
The scabbard…
Megumi's fingers dug into his thigh with all their strength as he pressed his back against the white tile again. He licked his lips, blinking, when something finally appeared in front of his eyes again; it was his slightly pinkish body, his soft and pink cock between his legs, the dick that was the cause of half of Megumi's problems.
The other half was a scabbard.
The third is Gojo Satoru.
"We need to get them out!" — finally a good idea came to his mind.
But how to do it? Only three times did something get into this shadow prostate - Gojo's fingers, which he pulled out himself; his fingers, which Megumi also pulled out himself; and the scabbard that remained there.
You had to get them out yourself, too! And — Quickly!
Megumi took a deep breath, straining and concentrating. From the fear that pierced his whole soul, it became so easy to understand what needed to be done now, that it turned out to quickly show everything necessary on his stomach, and in his hands to hold no more, no less, concentrated damned energy in each finger.
He put his hand on his stomach and without a shadow of doubt, without any delay, pressed. The seal moved aside, Megumi held his breath, pushing his hand with force and seeing it disappear inch by inch into his stomach right in front of his eyes.
He felt so numb that it took him a long time to realize that he had finally managed to push the seal apart again himself; to feel all these walls with his fingers, the way they wrap around his hand, how his fingers can touch something so soft so easily, but at the same time incredibly sensitive and gentle…
Fushiguro's penis stood up again.
He ignored it.
His hand went deeper, sinking to the elbow. It looked scary; it felt incredibly pleasant, incredibly deep, incredibly amazing. His eyes watered, either from all the tension on his already sensitive body, which had only recently experienced a strong orgasm, or from the fact that he could not blink, fearing that such an action would spoil everything.
Megumi inhaled hoarsely, sinking his elbow as well. His eyes closed of their own accord, and his mouth opened, because it was simply impossible to breathe through his nose. The walls trembled under his fingers, and he searched, already forgetting what he was looking for, but just harder, further to find…
And then his fingers touched something so stunning that Megumi probably just fainted at some point, not seeing, but feeling his balls clench, spilling sperm for a second orgasm, because, damn, how could anyone remain indifferent when he touched it? For a few seconds, Megumi was definitely very deeply lost in his head.
Fear was still in his soul — he had to practice with a blade in the evening. He breathed deeply, trying to come to his senses, but there was no way to open his eyes. Megumi did not open them. He felt that the hand was still inside him, because all these numerous walls were squeezing her, but not pressing, but rather the hand was pressing on them.
If he pulled his hand out of himself now, there was no way he would be able to put it back in there. Today, at least, for sure.
Megumi didn't know what exactly he had touched. He only knew that there really was a scabbard next to this something, because this long object was really there and at that moment, when his whole being shrank from the overwhelming sensations, Megumi was able to feel them in himself, thanks to the trembling walls.
Slowly, his hand moved towards the scabbard, gripping it tightly. Megumi could feel them gradually coming out after his hand, as if his arm was incredibly long. He unfolded them, gripping them more comfortably, starting to slowly pull them out.
His body was shaking. Fushiguro understood that he would lose consciousness at this rate, but this thought was somewhere very far away, beyond ALL he could grasp, because all he understood, all he could think about was "we have to pull."
And Megumi pulled, even when a shudder ran through him. He pulled when the tears were flowing from his eyes, because he couldn't hold them back. He pulled when the penis twitched again, for the third time, straining and twitching, opening up and starting to flow without a single direct stimulation. He pulled, unable to take even one deep breath. He pulled, pulled, pulled, without stopping, stretching these moments over several millennia of his existence, even if in reality not even a couple of seconds had passed. Because even if it was only a couple of seconds, they lasted much longer for Megumi. So long that they could only be compared to eternity, no less.
So long that when his scabbard finally appeared, he only had the strength to take it with his other hand to grab it tightly and pull it out of himself abruptly.
Megumi's body trembled — he tensed up, screaming, because it was too strong, too intense, too-too-too for him. But it was so good, so incredible, so overwhelming; at one point he bent over, resting his forehead on his other elbow, on his left arm; his eyes did not see anything for so long that when his own penis appeared in front of them, Megumi could only sob pitifully.
He looked terrible: covered in white cum, soft, red, swollen and small. Megumi felt small. His flesh ached, throbbing in time with his noisy heart and his legs were shaking. Fushiguro knew he couldn't get up even if he tried, he could only stare and stare, not fully realizing what he was seeing; and he saw his dirty cock, whose sperm couldn't be washed away by the water because he was bent over it.
My dick hurt. The veins on it were swollen, and the crack did not close, sometimes feverishly shrinking. However, not to the end, as if going to do it again… Megumi really wanted to touch him, just to make sure he was there, because right now he could only feel him and only him, as if Fushiguro himself was just one member and nothing more.
His fingers trembled and he groaned loudly, shaking. It was excitingly painful and unpleasant, but he still wanted to feel more somewhere deep inside his soul, even if right now it was so frightening. It's stunning.
Carefully, he pulled his hand out. More precisely, he tried, stopping himself, whining helplessly, unable to do anything else. All the walls pulsed, twisting around, shaking with convulsions.
He couldn't extend his arm. Megumi just couldn't — it was too much — it was so much in one evening — he was shaking with real fear because he couldn't get her out! I couldn't reach my own hand!
Fushiguro took a deep breath, closing his eyes again and trying not to move, but all these thoughts were useless because his muscles were twitching anyway after the incident.
The tears came harder from his eyes and down his face. Megumi bit his lip, hiding them in his elbow, trying to hide this weakness even from himself, and again tried to pull out his hand, stopping again. It hurt, it was bad. It was good, so good that my eyes rolled back. He wanted to lose consciousness from all the sensations that came crashing down on him with every breath and exhale. He was bursting with pleasure, which was too much for his body.
A hand was slowly coming out of the body. Megumi moaned, cried, sobbing uncontrollably, and tried to breathe because there was not enough air, his body was convulsing. In the end, he was able to pull her out of himself, feeling so broken and pathetic, so petty and insignificant that it hurt.
It was terrible.
He couldn't stop the tears — they flowed and flowed, even as the walls slowly began to close, forming a familiar seal after themselves, only to disappear later. Megumi could still feel them now, even if they weren't there; it was as if they were somewhere deep inside him, because in fact, they were.
His breathing was interrupted all the time. The hiccups started. He was shaking so much that he was literally tearing up. My head hurt. Everything else was terrible too, but Megumi didn't understand what he needed and just wanted to disappear.
With a fog in his mind, he somehow cleaned up after himself, turned off the water. He stood up, leaning on his weak and trembling legs. I dried myself with a towel and got dressed. Slowly, unsteadily, he returned to his room and left the scabbard where it belonged.
He fell on the bed, under the covers.
The tears were no longer coming — they had no strength left.
Megumi felt bad. He didn't know why, and he didn't think about it too much, because he couldn't even think right now, he was so overwhelmed with everything that he was in shock. He just wanted to lie under the covers, which he did. And he wanted so many things; and almost everything that came into his head made him sick.
— Megumi?
A familiar face appeared in front of my eyes. Megumi blinked, focusing and seeing the familiar blue eyes ahead. The room was dark, it must have been evening, but Gojo's eyes shone with their usual light. This light was soft and gentle, bright for Megumi's sore eyes, but for some reason it made it easier and better.
- Yes? "What is it?" he asked softly, and suddenly realized that he had lost his voice.
Megumi couldn't remember when he did it. Until that moment, he hadn't even felt that his throat hurt, but now—yes, now he understood it.
— How are you? Gojo asked quietly, still half—sitting in front of his bed.
Megumi looked away and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what to say; for some reason he felt so bad, and not so long ago it was very good. There was no shame or embarrassment, because to them he seemed stiff to himself after what had happened. It was just... something he didn't understand. It's a strange feeling that he's not alone, because Gojo was here. Megumi didn't know if he wanted him to be here, but he was, and that was also quite normal.
A large hand reached for his head. Megumi shuddered against his will and jerked back, out of control. His whole body felt icy under the blanket, and this sensation gave him slight cramps. Satoru stopped halfway along, cocking his head to the side. His gaze became colder. The cold was strange, but right now Megumi was too overwhelmed and too tired to try to understand it.
More slowly, the palm at some point just ended up in his hair, gently twisting some strands. They were already dry and, of course, shaggy, matted. Megumi remembered that the water from the shower was pouring directly on his head, but the moment was erased in his memory, whether he wiped them after he got out of the bathroom.
Satoru's gaze became more gloomy:
— Should I call Shoko?
Megumi looked away and shook his head negatively. It made my throat ache. He wanted to clear his throat, but he restrained the impulse. Gojo mumbled, indicating that he understood his answer. The man stood up, straightening up, but without removing his big palm from his head. He sat down on the bed and forced Megumi to move closer to the middle of the bed to give him more space.
— How are you? Gojo asked again, breaking the silence.
Fushiguro remained silent, closing his eyes. He still felt strangely broken. He had never felt like this before and realized that he didn't want to feel like this because it was terrible. Megumi didn't even understand why the only appropriate word was "broken".
But it was like that — Megumi was defeated
A broken person is someone who experiences emotional and physical fatigue, irritability, apathy and other symptoms of psychological trauma.
. There was simply no other word.
There was nothing wrong with his body. Yes, he had a headache, he felt cold, slight cramps from this cold and overexertion, his voice was broken. But all this seemed to him such an insignificant trifle compared to this devastating feeling in his soul. This was not what he felt when he came into contact with the seal. It was something deeper; something Megumi didn't want to think about.
"I don't know,— he said honestly, answering the question.
Fushiguro really didn't know.
There was a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes. Megumi did not open his eyes, concentrating on the sensations of strong but neat fingers in his hair, which helped him concentrate on something specific. Gojo continues to play, sometimes slightly scratching the scalp with short nails. It was a pleasant feeling; the way it sent strange impulses into his brain.
"I'll get some water," Gojo said smoothly after a long time, as if there was no silence.
Don't leave, Megumi thought, but he didn't say anything. He could only nod his head slightly to show that he understood what was said. However, he didn't want to. I didn't want the man to leave.
Gojo went to get water anyway. It didn't take long, Megumi couldn't even tell exactly how long he had been gone, but when the man returned, he had Megumi's favorite mug and a carafe of water with him. For some reason, the sight of the mug touched him strangely and Megumi had to squeeze his eyes tightly, because he had already cried enough for today, and he definitely wasn't going to do it in front of Gojo, even if he wouldn't mock him or say something.
His mouth was dry; he had to drink almost four mugs after two pills, which he recognized as painkillers. Despite this, thirst still tormented him, his hands almost reached for another portion, but Gojo did not pour a fifth, instead putting everything on the bedside table next to it.
Megumi didn't say anything, lying down on the bed again. He didn't have the energy to say anything, much less argue. The pillow turned out to be cold for a few seconds, and only some time later Megumi realized that it was already another pillow, more dense. The cold made him uncomfortable, but before he could do anything, another blanket was put on top of him, a winter one.
Something was working in the room. Some kind of technique. Megumi wasn't looking, so he couldn't tell exactly, but it seemed to be a heater.
— What happened? — He heard a quiet voice.
The mattress sagged next to me again. A large palm gently pushed the hair away from his face and Megumi opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of the blue infinity.
He swallowed, opened his mouth, and then closed it again without making a sound. He wanted to say something to answer the question, but realized that he really had nothing to say. Because he didn't even know how to put it into words. There were simply no words for his condition in the sense that it was more like a strange desolation; there were no words to describe what had happened, even though it was something else. Satoru's eyes blinked slowly, his long finger passed under Megumi's eye and Megumi realized that they were watering again.
Megumi felt a strong urge to say something; anything, just so that this awkward moment between them could be put aside.
— Lie down with me.
Why didn't this request seem awkward to him. At any other time, she would have been so named, embarrassing, awkward, but right now it was simple and logical words. Natural, like breathing. Megumi just wanted Gojo Satoru by his side right now, that's all.
There was a small smile on Gojo's lips. He got up to go somewhere, but returned two minutes later in different clothes, short pants and a T-shirt, with a pillow in his hands.
Megumi silently moved to the wall, feeling an unpleasant cold and fidgeting because of it. His face hit the wall and he closed his eyes again, feeling Gojo put a pillow next to his back. The man sat down, but had not yet gone to bed, and Fushiguro realized that he was most likely on the phone right now, checking his schedule. I didn't want to think about it.
His bed wasn't too big; there wasn't enough room for two adults to lie down without touching each other. As soon as Gojo put down the phone, he lifted both of Megumi's blankets, letting the cold in, and then climbed inside. Megumi could feel his light breathing on her, somewhere above his shoulder. He felt a strong arm hug him across his chest, and a second, equally long limb stretched even under his pillow, forcing his head to move a little lower. He also felt his legs, which now rested with his knees somewhere in his calves.
He closed his eyes, trying in vain to ignore all his feelings. Asking Gojo to lie down with him was less embarrassing than feeling hugged. Megumi didn't ask for it, but…
— So what happened? Gojo asked quietly. — Megumi?
The whisper came right under my ear. Megumi awkwardly shrugged his shoulder, remaining silent.
Satoru took a deep breath, and then moved and threw his leg over him. Megumi tried to throw her off, but all his attempts were completely useless, so he had to give up. Someone else's chest twitched, because the owner of the body clearly suppressed a laugh inside himself from those attempts that amused him.
—Me-goo-mi,— drawled Gojo, leaning even harder on top of him, as if trying to lie down on him. Maybe he really tried.
Megumi tried to push him off and gave up, sighing in disappointment.
—Just like that,— he said smoothly, realizing that his face was blushing. Fortunately, he had his eyes on the wall and Gojo should not have seen his embarrassment. — I did one thing and, here.
—Mm,— a significant drawl came from behind. There was silence between them for a while, but a minute later Gojo continued the phrase as if nothing had happened: — Next time call me, we'll do all sorts of stuff together.
Megumi's heart stopped, only to thump loudly in her chest the next moment. He shoved hard, feeling the blood rush to his face and cheeks, go to his ears and even to his neck, and then he could not restrain a hoarse disappointed groan, trying to pretend to be deaf, blind and mute at the same time, so as not to react in any way to Gojo's instigation.
— No, but what did I say? He protested, hugging him as if Megumi were some kind of stuffed animal.
For some reason, there was no desire to get out of these hands.