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Suguru thinks it’s unfair that Satoru is titled as the strongest sorcerer while he’s left behind in his shadow. It’s a far gap, and Suguru’s grateful that he’s close enough to the sun without having to get burned, but it still irks him.
Simply because Satoru isn’t the Strongest Sorcerer. Suguru is.
No sorcerer who everyone cherishes, whispers at his mere presence, and gawks over his winnings and fame is the strongest when they’re underneath Suguru’s desk, humping his foot like a dog. Suguru has Satoru tied around his pinkie- no his eyelash if he were being honest. Satoru would do virtually anything for him, and that includes letting Suguru press on his cock through his slacks.
He doesn’t need to watch the Satoru Gojo throw his head back with pleasure. He can tell by the melody of whimpers that float to his ears, the endless symphony of whines of Suguru, please Suguru.
Suguru Geto is the Strongest Sorcerer, and not Satoru Gojo.
He taps his pen on his lower lip, humming to himself while he adds a bit more pressure on the man below him to make him gasp. He doesn’t even know what Inumaki is saying in this paper about simple domains. It’s a jumble of words that are trying to convince each other that they belong in this sentence.
“Fuck- Suguru-”
Really he doesn’t get it. Is this some sort of punishment? Suguru is being forced to grade the work of the second years when he’s the teacher for the third years? How come Kusakabe can’t do his job for once, or what about Nanami? Suguru never sees him do paperwork, or maybe it’s because he does it right then and there.
“Please. Please. I need to cum Suguru, I need it please .”
That makes the most sense. Even during high school Nanami was always the most responsible out of the bunch. Though, secretly he wishes that he grew up out of that phase. Maybe he’s better when he’s drunk, he finally is able to live a little and not have a stick up his ass.
“Su-”
He pushes his thumb past plump lips. He likes the feeling of Satoru’s cheeks hollowing around his thumb and sucks the digit like it’s his cock. His tongue laps hungrily against its underside and Suguru has to stifle a moan when he shoves his thumb deeper just to hear Satoru gag and choke.
Suguru loves Satoru’s gag reflex. It’s absolutely devine. He could have Satoru on his knees, worshipping his dick and watch him get all teary eyed while he coughs at the size while a combination of spit and pre-cum slip down his lips.
He slides his thumb out of Satoru’s warm mouth, smearing the saliva on Satoru’s cheek like he’s disgusted with him. And Satoru being the world’s strongest pervert moans. Suguru snickers, maybe he does need a break with paperwork, he can try to have a talk with Inumaki tomorrow to fix his assignment and maybe have him enrolled in an online writing class.
He fists Satoru’s hair, pulling him towards his head towards his crotch and out from beneath his desk. Blue eyes swallowed by pure lust, the tips of his ears are scorched red. Suguru continues to put pressure on Satoru’s clothed cock enjoying the way Satoru’s eyes roll backwards into his skull.
“So nasty, Satoru,” Suguru coos, “all of this and you still have your clothes on,” Satoru whines in response, bucking his hips against Suguru’s foot for some friction. He always loves it when Suguru talks to him in bed. Whether it’s the nicest of praise or the filthiest of degradation, Satoru takes it all in stride.
Suguru clicks his tongue, “Look at you now. Humping my foot like a dog. Are you that much of a whore, Satoru? Reducing yourself to getting off on my fucking foot?”
Satoru’s lips part open in a silent gasp, he throws his head back, fingers clutching on the fabric of his husband's baggy pants, “Yes! Fuck- fuck yes!”
Suguru wants to laugh. He isn’t even moving his foot anymore, Satoru’s doing everything for him. He’s rubbing his hips up against Suguru’s sock frantically, coherent whines spilling from his lips. He wonders if Satoru even noticed that he stopped doing anything, and instead he’s sitting on his throne watching Satoru work for it like some cheap whore.
“You gonna cum?” He teases, releasing the harsh grip from his hair to comb his fingers through the white strands. Satoru’s head flops against his crotch, tears springing from the corners of his eyes while he angrily humps against Suguru’s foot.
“ I gotta,” he cries, hips stuttering with defeat.
Suguru breaks and laughs. It’s mean and ruthless and Satoru looks up at him with tears sprung in his eyes and a pout on kissable lips. He can feel Satoru throbbing, even without wrapping his hands around his length or cupping his balls he knows he needs it. That release that makes his body go limp and bones turn to mush.
“Don’t tell me,” he pauses, “you need help?”
Satoru nods, and Suguru’s hand in his hair stops carding his fingers and tugs instead.
“I asked a question, Satoru. I expect an answer. A verbal one.”
“Yes,” he whines, hardly able to hold up his head when Suguru lets go. Suguru hums, and finally gives Satoru what he had begged for forty-five minutes ago by increasing the pressure on his cock and slowly stroking his length with his foot.
Once.
Twice.
By the third time Satoru’s jaw goes slack, head falling forward on Suguru’s crotch while his body shudders. Suguru’s foot is wet, there’s a dark spot in Satoru’s pants. Satoru whimpers, body going lax and Suguru coos at him, praising him for doing so well.
“Such a good-boy Satoru, how do you feel?” He asks. Satoru’s response muffled against the fabric of his clothes.
He turns his head to the side, breathing heavily out of his nose, “Spent.”
Suguru chuckles, “So you don’t wanna go again?”
Satoru physically flinches at that. Whimpering at the thought. Suguru was so fucking ruthless today with him that he might have Satoru be forced to cockwarm him why they watch The Godfather .
“Is that a no?” Suguru asks. If Satoru wants to stop he has no problem with following. He would rather know now so he can have a bath prepared.
“It’s not-not a no.” Satoru mumbles.
Gojo Satoru is
not
the strongest sorcerer, that title belongs to Geto Suguru.