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Utahime was staring at him, but not in the malicious, scathing way she did when she was seconds away from throttling him. Predacious – that was the only word Gojo could think of to describe it. He’d seen it before: rich brown eyes narrowed playfully, lush pink lips stretched into a mischievous grin, but no matter how many times she locked her gaze on him like a ravenous beast circling its prey, it always managed to make his heart beat a little faster. That look undoubtedly meant trouble for him – good trouble, but trouble nonetheless.
He knew he was in for it – whatever it was – when she uncrossed her legs beneath the table, the subtle shift of the tablecloth as her knee brushed the hem of it a dead giveaway. Despite the din of idle chatter from nearby tables and the faint clinking of silverware on fine china, he heard the sole of her kitten heel clack against the hardwood floor below as it dropped off her foot unceremoniously, and he smirked when he felt her pointed toes graze the inside of his thigh just above his knee. Gojo slumped slightly in his chair, instinctively inching his pelvis closer to her touch. He purposefully suppressed the urge to wantonly spread his legs to accommodate her even further. She was just as aware as he was of how eagerly receptive his body was of hers, and he had to remind himself of the very communal nature of their surroundings lest she scold him for being so openly obscene.
Utahime was so rarely outwardly affectionate in public – this particular instance likely a product of two and a half glasses of wine – that when she was, Gojo was helpless but to wallow in every ounce of attention she’d give him. Still, he made a concerted effort to ignore the rapidly rising swell of desire he abruptly felt and the unabashedly excited twitch of his already half-hard cock. He knew she wouldn’t allow him to cop any semblance of a feel, not even discreetly beneath the table like she had, so he was determined to wrap up their insipid dinner date as quickly as possible. He needed to lay hands on her straightaway and in a much more intimate setting – one where his advances were less likely to be subdued. Like their king-size bed, for instance.
Gojo cleared his throat emphatically and reached for his water glass, suddenly conscious of how parched he was. “Do you want something?” he asked coolly, suggestively arching a brow as he sipped his water.
Utahime tossed back the remainder of her white wine like it was a shot of something much stronger. Gojo was so enraptured watching her throat gulp down every last drop that he was wholly unprepared for her racy response: “Yeah. I wanna peg you.”
Behind his ridiculously tiny sunglasses, Gojo’s crystalline blue eyes rounded in pure shock, and he instantly choked on his drink. He unsteadily set his glass aside, sputtering and coughing as he accepted a cloth napkin from Utahime’s outstretched hand. He expected her to be reprimanding him from behind gritted teeth by then, embarrassed by his flagrant reaction and the inquiring eyes it had drawn to their table, but when he blinked away the pained tears that had begun to brim his eyes, he found that she was quietly giggling behind her hand instead.
“I’m sorry… Come again?” Gojo questioned between strangled coughs into his fist, in such a flushed and flustered state that not a single other living soul could ever manage to reduce him to. He couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly. It was almost unfathomable that Utahime Iori, the most prim and proper woman he’d ever known, would so blatantly state that she wanted to indulge in one of his wildest fantasies, and it was even less conceivable that she’d do so in the middle of a crowded upscale restaurant.
She wasn’t drunk – that much he could tell. No, he knew Drunk Utahime very well, and if that feral gremlin had popped by for a visit, he’d be hauling her off the premises draped over his shoulder while she told him how pretty he was and threatened to castrate him all in the same breath. She wasn’t that far gone – yet, but there was a rosy tint painted across the apples of her cheeks and a bleariness in her eyes that signified a moderate buzz.
Utahime grinned wickedly as she circled an index finger around the rim of her wine glass, careful to avoid the print of crimson lipstick she’d left on it. “That’s kinda the point,” she replied, her pearly white teeth sinking into her lower lip as Gojo felt her toes slide further up his thigh. All he could do was bite his fist to stifle the brazen moan he nearly let slip. “So, will you let me?” She tilted her head to the side, batting her sooty lashes at him as she waited patiently for his answer, and Gojo’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
“Uta…” he breathed as he stared at her pleadingly through half-lidded eyes, his stomach somersaulting in his body. She knew damn well he’d let her truss him up like a fucking Christmas ham if she wanted to. She didn’t even have to ask nicely.
Shrugging nonchalantly, Utahime simply said, “I need to hear you say it, Gojo.” The devious glint in her eyes betrayed her air of indifference, however. Though slightly inebriated, she was still clearly in control of all of her faculties – particularly the ones specializing in coercion.
Oh, so it’s like that, huh? Gojo nodded sagely as he tried to gather his bearings, struggling not to focus on the way Utahime wiggled her toes closer to the tent in his slacks that he didn’t have a shred of hope in hiding once he stood from the table. He sighed, swallowing thickly as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his fist.
This wasn’t completely uncharted territory for them, per say. They were both very comfortable with their sexualities, and they experimented together quite often. Gojo learned quickly that Utahime loved to dominate him during sex – a predictable result of the power gap that existed between them in every other aspect of their lives, and Utahime absolutely relished that Gojo immediately became obedient and pliable the moment she uttered a command in all her nude glory. Anal play wasn’t novel for them, either. Gojo practically ate her ass professionally, and Utahime was wont to slip a finger or two into his tight little hole while she sucked him off.
As it were, most pleasure-seeking endeavors weren’t off-limits or taboo for them, and though Utahime had never offered to peg him before, they’d discussed it intermittently – in private. Shamelessly, Gojo had fantasized about it almost daily since Utahime had first mentioned it during one of their compulsory post-coital critique sessions, and he knew if he didn’t seize the opportunity she’d just presented to him, she may never feel bold enough to extend the offer again – liquid courage notwithstanding.
Gojo’s eyes shot open as he felt her foot brush the tip of his cock through his pants, and he jolted, his knees banging against the underside of the table. Utahime remained calm and collected, casually settling wobbling glasses and clattering dishes while Gojo fought not to desperately pant like an animal in heat. Both of them ignored the scornful glare from the waiter passing by who nearly dropped the tray he was carrying after having been startled by the sudden, clangorous noise.
“Satoruuu…” Utahime sing-songed, all but fondling his crotch with the ball of her bare foot, and it was too much. Gojo couldn’t handle her teasing anymore, not here.
“Yes,” he answered a bit breathlessly, planting his palm firmly on the tabletop to tether himself to reality. “Fuck yes, actually.”
Utahime’s touch rescinded, and Gojo heard shuffling under the table as she slipped her foot back into her shoe. When he finally dared to rake his eyes up to hers again, she smiled at him coquettishly and replied, “Good. It’ll be a nice change of pace to rearrange your guts for once.” Gojo was speechless, only capable of gaping at her incredulously as she slung her purse over her shoulder and stood from her seat. “Settle the bill, would you? I’ll be waiting in the car.”
Gojo watched her saunter away, mindful of the purposeful sway in her hips. Once she disappeared behind the throng of people milling about the restaurant, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and flung his head back to stare at the ceiling. He blinked once, twice and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his cock to soften as his head lolled forward again.
Across the table, he noticed a fresh glass of crisp, chilled white wine. It didn’t look as though Utahime had even touched it as it was sans lipstick stains. The waiter he’d terrified must have delivered it while he was trying his damnedest not to blow his load in his brand-new Armani slacks.
Gojo didn’t imbibe. He loathed the way spirits (of the non-cursed variety) dulled his senses, not to mention the nauseating aftereffects, but in the moment, he needed that wine like a lost man wandering the desert needed an oasis: urgently. He snatched the glass with one wide sweep of his long arm and tossed back the contents in the same fashion Utahime had, wincing at the burn of the alcohol despite its fruity sweetness. He needed every modicum of bravery he could muster for the filth and debauchery that lay ahead of him.
...
All things considered, the drive home was comfortably silent. Gojo wanted to ask no less than two dozen questions in rapid fire succession, but for the first time in his life, he held his tongue for fear he might say something stupid. (Shocking.) He lived to poke and prod Utahime, but he was living for it significantly less with the prospect of her literally poking and prodding him hanging in the balance. They’d both finally worked up the nerve to actually pursue this saucy venture, and as uncharacteristic as it was, the last thing Gojo wanted to do was piss her off before the deed had even begun.
But the questions were burning in Gojo’s throat like acid, and as they crossed the threshold of their Tokyo apartment, he couldn’t stop the first – and, in his astute opinion, most important – one from spilling out: “So, do you actually have a strap?” he queried as they toed off their shoes together at the entrance. “I mean, if you did, I think I would’ve seen – “
“I ordered one online last week. It was delivered while you were on that mission in Hokkaido,” Utahime interjected, glancing back at him over her shoulder as they walked down the hallway. “I think you’ll like it.” She winked at him, and for a fraction of a second, Gojo thought he might faint. Being seduced by her was beyond erotic, and it nearly overwhelmed him every single time.
In the bedroom, Utahime set aside all pretense by immediately shedding her dress, and Gojo completely forgot about his line of interrogation and also that it was imperative he be naked, too, plopping down fully clothed on the foot of the bed to watch her meander around their walk-in closet. She’d stripped down to only a pair of black lace panties that left nothing to the imagination, and Gojo couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried. He plucked off his sunglasses, eyes wide and jaw slack as he gawked like he always did. He couldn’t help it. Seeing Utahime in any state of undress was like seeing her nude for the first time all over again. Captivated didn’t even begin to describe the way he felt.
There was something oddly hypnotic about the way she moved, all fluid grace and elegant poise even as she went about the most menial tasks. As the heir to one of jujutsu society’s most powerful clans, Gojo had – more or less – been raised royalty, but still, he didn’t know the first thing about carrying oneself with such propriety and sophistication. And yet, there wasn’t a single iota of modesty or civility in the way those panties hugged her cheeks like they were tailored for them, the way her supple ass bounced with every step she took. No, it was downright indecent and unruly – the exact opposite of how Utahime wanted to be perceived, and dear God, when she bent over… It took every scrap of willpower Gojo had left not to say the vilest things and objectify her any further.
“I knew you’d snoop, so I hid it in the mini fridge,” Utahime imparted, her tone dripping triumph at having successfully concealed a surprise from her nosey boyfriend, and Gojo blinked back into his body. He realized then that she’d been talking to him for the past several minutes while he was distracted ogling, and once the cogs in his brain began to turn again and rendered him able to process her statement, he found that he was actually quite proud of her.
She knew he didn’t give a shit about all the frivolous skincare products she stowed away in the tiny refrigerator perched on her vanity – a birthday gift from him that she nearly sobbed over – so even if he had suspected she was keeping something under wraps, it would never have occurred to him to check its contents. Despite the fact that it brought her immense joy, he’d bought the damn appliance solely because he was tired of haphazardly grabbing what he initially thought to be a cup of yogurt or even pudding from the commercial fridge in the kitchen only to find out that he’d just downed a heaping spoonful of a chilled face pack. Truth be told, it was a brilliant scheme on Utahime’s part. She’d certainly bested meddlesome, prying Gojo this time around, but he’d never admit it aloud. Nor would he allow it to happen again.
Gojo smirked as she returned to the bedroom to open said mini fridge. “You’ve been plotting this for a while, haven’t you?” he inquired, reclining on his elbows.
The refrigerator door sealed shut, and Utahime turned to face him, grinning like a Cheshire cat as she padded over to the bed. “I’ve mulled it over a time or two,” she acknowledged coyly.
She eased onto the mattress beside him and sat back on her haunches, holding the toys she’d retrieved in outstretched hands as though they were offerings meant to appease a god. Because they are, but Gojo shoved that cheeky little notion aside as he zeroed in on the perky pair of bare breasts that had settled right at eye level with him. He was too preoccupied to trigger Infinity in order to deflect the quick jab of her elbow into his ribcage, and though it didn’t knock the wind out of him like Utahime had perhaps hoped it would, it was harsh and painful enough to redirect his focus.
In one hand, she held a black leather harness. There wasn’t anything particularly special about it, though it appeared to be finely made and was likely expensive. (She definitely ordered it with one of the many credit cards in his cache.) Seamless stitching, secure clasps, sturdy cock ring – it would certainly serve its purpose well. The real gem, however, was gripped in her other hand: a short, slender silicone dildo colored in a pleasant and comically innocuous lilac hue.
Gojo snorted and arched a curious brow at her. “Purple, huh?”
“Just for you,” Utahime beamed as she booped his nose with the tip of it. Gojo resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she chuckled at her own stupid, tongue-in-cheek joke.
“That thing’s freezing, you know,” he commented dryly, trying to detract from the sudden bout of anxiety he felt as he warily eyed the phallus in his girlfriend’s hand.
He was admittedly grateful that Utahime had selected one so petite. It definitely paled in comparison to his own, but it didn’t appear to be smaller than the width and length of a couple of her fingers, either. For the first time in the course of their relationship, Gojo felt a pang of guilt on Utahime’s behalf. He’d always been so proud and boastful about how well-endowed he was, and like everything else in life, Utahime took him like a champ. Still, he’d never been anything less than brutal with her – not that she hadn’t outright demanded he be – and he wondered briefly if she’d fuck him just as mercilessly as recompense.
Gojo shivered as he pondered the thought, his cock stirring in a rush of excitement that blotted out all notions of fear when Utahime abruptly interrupted his fantasy by mockingly pouting at him and cooing, “Aww, poor baby. Afraid of a little cold?”
His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek as he narrowed his eyes at her warningly. He was supposed to be the one that made snide, obnoxious remarks. He knew their roles had reversed when he’d agreed to this, but he hadn’t thought they had inverted to such a degree that she’d adopt his entire persona, too. He chocked it up to the alcohol despite also considering that he may finally be rubbing off on her. He sincerely hoped it was the former as he began unbuttoning his shirt and wryly retorted, “Damn, Uta. When’d you get so mean?”
Utahime exhaled a world-weary sigh as she rose from the bed and stole over to the light switch, the harsh brightness of the room dimming to a soft illumination akin to candlelight when she rotated the dial. “The day I met you, Satoru,” she plainly answered.
Gojo just shook his head, eyes downcast and focused intently on his task. He noticed that his hands had begun to tremble, the nervousness he thought he’d quashed returning full force as the simple act of pushing his shirt button through its hole suddenly became an arduous feat. He grew frustrated quickly and was poised to just rip the whole fucking thing off despite the fact that it was Givenchy (he could certainly afford to buy another one) when Utahime reappeared in front of him. He looked up at her as the bottle of lube she’d retrieved joined the pile of toys beside him. “Let me,” she offered, batting his hands away as she straddled his lap, and Gojo sighed heavily, his arms falling limp at his sides.
To distract himself, he picked at the scalloped lace trim on the waistband of her panties. He rubbed the material between his thumb and index finger for only a moment before he became far more interested in the softness of her skin against his knuckles. He placed both of his massive hands on her creamy thighs, nearly engulfing them in his grip and slowly stroked from her knees to her hips. The action seemed to soothe Gojo as much as it did Utahime as she hummed contentedly in his lap.
He didn’t stop petting her even when she’d finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid it off his shoulders down to his forearms. Instead of releasing her and pulling it off like she’d intended for him to do, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her flush against him. He nuzzled his nose into the underside of her breast, kissing the spot where it joined her ribcage before he burrowed his face between them. Though her breasts were small and didn’t provide much cover, he coveted them all the same – his favorite place to hide.
“Satoru-kun,” Utahime addressed him tenderly, carding her fingers through his hair while she scratched his scalp. The tension melted completely out of Gojo’s body and left him feeling more at ease than he had all day, “you trust me, don’t you?”
Gojo recoiled instantly, brows furrowed and balking at her like she’d gone mad. “Of course, I do. What makes you think I don’t?” he replied a tad more forcefully than he meant to.
The way those amber eyes beheld him with boundless affection and admiration had Gojo’s hastily built walls crumbling like a rickety shack in an earthquake. “I don’t doubt that you do,” she answered, her hands traveling down from his hair to massage his rigid shoulders. “I guess I just needed a bit of a reminder. It’s obvious that you’re apprehensive about this, and that’s to be expected. It’s something new for both of us, but surely, you know I’d never hurt you.”
Gojo suddenly felt much too vulnerable, too exposed. She’d always been able to read him like an open book, and he hated it, hated how she could so easily flay him and lay all his truths bare. His blindfold usually kept most at arm’s length. It was just a strip of cloth, but it gave him an extra layer of security by creating a barrier between the world and the windows into his soul. But Utahime had been able to see through to the heart of him from the day they met, and it had irked him since. Still, he was an expert at deflecting, and he did so in the only way he knew how: by goading her. “Like you could ever hurt me. We both know you’re too weak to do that,” he scoffed indignantly.
Utahime huffed and rolled her eyes, the warmth of the moment fading like an extinguished flame. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see how well you can handle it then.”
In order to maintain his bravado, Gojo gleaned that the best course of action was to simply not think at all anymore, so he allowed Utahime to guide him, to take control in the manner she most preferred. She started by removing his hands from her hips to shuck his shirt completely off and pressed her lips to his, easing him back onto his elbows again through their kiss.
She always kissed him so carefully, so gently. It was a stark contrast to the way he usually came at her: bruisingly rough, teeth gnashing, tongue lapping. She handled him with special care, and perhaps, it was because no one else ever had. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer on the planet wouldn’t possibly appreciate a kind touch, right?
Her lips were soft and pillowy as ever as they worked in tandem with his, and she tasted like the tangy, acidic wine Gojo was beginning to think hadn’t been so bad after all. She nipped his lower lip, probing for consent to delve further, and Gojo groaned, tilting his head to give her unfettered access to his mouth. She teased his tongue with the tip of her own, daring it to explore beyond the wall of her teeth, and he relented, spelunking exultantly into the wet cavern of her mouth. She let him wander, tongues grappling and teeth scraping until they were both breathless.
While Gojo heaved oxygen, Utahime peppered sloppy kisses along his jawline and down his throat. She paused her descent intermittently to suck on the corded tendons and pulsing veins beneath his alabaster skin, coaxing precious little whines from Gojo’s kiss-swollen lips. She gripped his mandible in her right hand as her left kneaded one of his pecs. He felt the tip of her index finger trace his lips, and his thick lashes fluttered against his crimson cheeks, well aware of what she sought as her finger dipped into his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around it, suckling on it in order to drench it in as much saliva as he could before she drew it away.
Her teeth sank into his collarbone as she traveled further down his chest, and he keened until he felt her wet finger rub delicate circles around his right nipple. Her hot mouth puckered around his left immediately after, and his breath hitched in his lungs. Utahime smiled into his skin when his cock leaped from between his spread legs, harder than steel as it pressed insistently against her crotch. Gojo shivered at how wet she already was, how much it turned her on to pleasure him.
He bucked his hips into hers, searching for the minimal amount of friction he’d need to come like this. Utahime had brought him to climax more than once just from nipple play, and it was clear that she had no intention of giving him the release he sought as she lifted her hips away from him. He squirmed beneath her, his breath puffing over the crown of her head as she bit and sucked at the most sensitive part of him. It alighted every nerve in his body and pumped molten lava through his veins.
Gojo had just begun to perspire – the exchange of body heat during sex being the only activity strenuous enough to ever make him sweat – pulse pounding and fingers tearing at the duvet beneath him when Utahime shifted her attention to his other nipple, trailing her lips in feather-light kisses across his chest. He jolted when she latched on again and cried out when her fingers plucked the damp, stiff bud she’d just abandoned.
He was too keyed up. The stimulation was too much, the coil in his belly poised to unwind any second, and Utahime seemed to sense it, lingering only briefly before her mouth wandered down to the mountains and valleys of his lean abs.
The euphoria he’d felt steadily building ebbed as Utahime licked the salt from his skin, her hands raking down his sides to the waist of his slacks. Gojo swallowed hard, panting frantically between each gulp. He dared to crack open his eyes and watch Utahime nibble at his navel, her tongue plunging inside as she undid his pants. He had the wherewithal to remember that he still had shoes on, so he kicked his loafers off while Utahime simultaneously tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs.
Gojo sucked in a sharp breath when his cock sprang free, goosebumps cropping up over his skin as his scorching flesh was exposed to the cool room air. Clear, viscous fluid wept pitifully from his tip and streaked along the underside of Utahime’s chin while she showered soft kisses atop the patch of short, wiry, silver-white hair above it. She didn’t seem to mind, however, nuzzling the base of his shaft as her small hands roved over his trim thighs, her nails digging into his flesh just the way he liked.
He shivered once more, blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, heavy lids at half-mast, he met hers. The decadent caramel shade of her eyes always reminded him of how he took his tea: swimming with heaps of sugar and nearly overflowing with cream – tooth-achingly sweet. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, almost eclipsing her irises, and she peered up at him so lovingly from beneath shuttered lashes that Gojo’s chest ached.
He had to touch her, his fingers tucking a strand of her violet-black locks behind her ear. She looked so innocent, so pure with the dainty, silk Hermes nano scarf he’d bought her last Valentine’s Day tied in a cute little bow around half of her hair, but any guise of virtue he’d glimpsed was swallowed up, consumed the second her plush lips ghosted up the side of his cock and stretched around his tip.
An effeminate and downright pornographic moan loosed from Gojo’s throat, and Utahime grinned around him, immediately setting to work pumping his shaft with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. His fingers tangled in her hair as his toes curled, his whole body wrought with pleasure, but he was mindful not to pull or tug. He was a greedy son-of-a-bitch, but he didn’t want to gag her, not like this. She was already straining to swallow as much of his length as she could, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, and he knew her jaw would ache soon.
“Fuck, Uta… God, you look so beautiful,” Gojo praised, hoping his compliment would be a salve to her discomfort. She blinked slowly up at him in response, reassuring him that it was.
Gojo’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his eyes falling closed as he stroked her hair affectionately. Her fingers maintained a pleasantly tight grip on him, squeezing a little more on each upstroke while her tongue swirled around his tip in such a way that his pelvis tingled. He loved the obscenely wet sounds she made, slurping down every drop of pre-ejaculate that dribbled out and coating him in her saliva all at the same time. His overstimulated balls threatened to recede into his body entirely, his sac pulling tauter with every roll across her palm.
The wave of bliss he recognized from earlier had begun to rise again, perilously close to breaching the levee that was his restraint when he felt Utahime’s hand retract from his sac. He opened his mouth to protest or beg for more, all of the synapses in his brain firing so quickly that he couldn’t be certain which would tumble out, but any semblance of coherent speech instantly died on his tongue when he heard the familiar sound of the lube bottle uncapping. His heart rate accelerated, his breathing picking up pace again as he lofted his head forward and forced open his eyes to see her sticky, dripping fingers disappear between his legs.
Initially, Gojo startled at the coldness of the lubricant, but it was water-based and swiftly acclimated to the temperature of his overheated body. He lifted one of his feet onto the edge of the bed, planting the heel of it into the mattress to grant better access to Utahime’s probing finger and grunted lewdly when she easily sank into him to her first knuckle. He bit down on his lip painfully, trying to stifle any further foul sounds from spilling forth, but the sensation of fullness was just so satisfying, so assuaging.
He felt her eyes on him at the same time that he felt her finger curl, searching for his prostate while she attempted to insert an additional finger as well. Gojo exhaled deeply, willing his body to relax and accept her intrusion, and with a bit of focus on his part and patience on hers, a second digit successfully joined the first. He hissed and hummed delightedly, grinding his hips down until Utahime was shrouded inside him to the webbing of her fingers, and when she began to scissor them, stretching him open for what was to come, she grazed that spot inside him that made him see stars.
Gojo’s whole body felt like it had been electrified, sparks sizzling along his nerves. Sweat dripped from every inch of him, air scarce in his lungs. It was everything all at once, all over him, inside of him, and it made him feel wild, unhinged, simultaneously brazen and desperate enough to hoarsely beg, “Uta… need you… to fuck me… now.”
Utahime stilled instantly and stared up at him with wide, glittering eyes, fingers crooked inside him and tongue flattened against his tip. Gojo knew he must’ve looked a right mess, absolutely strung out and wrecked despite not even having reached his peak yet, but he didn’t care. He didn’t give a shit, because he knew that what she was about to do would unravel him at his very seams, and he couldn’t wait for it even a fraction of a second longer.
Quietly and carefully, Utahime extricated herself from him and inserted the dildo into the cock ring before stepping into the harness. Gojo watched longingly, somehow aroused even further by the way the leather hugged her hips. It fit her like a glove, molding to her body so well that Gojo presumed she must have adjusted the clasps to suit her in advance. The image of her trying it on alone in their bathroom, examining how it looked on her body flickered through his mind’s eye, and his cock twitched at the thrill of it.
Utahime pressed her knees into the mattress between Gojo’s thighs, smiling down at him wolfishly. Gojo licked his lips and swallowed thickly, the intensity of her gaze too much. She said she wouldn’t hurt him – and part of Gojo still didn’t think she could – but in that moment, he knew she’d tear him apart. Maybe not physically, but some aspect of him would certainly be left open and raw in the end. It was all but confirmed when she reached out to run her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair before fisting a handful of it almost painfully and yanking him forward.
She canted her hips and urged the tip of the bright purple, silicone cock persistently against his lips. Gojo peered up at her inquisitively as best he could given the angle, but Utahime didn’t speak, settling for lifting an expectant brow at him instead.
Gojo wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what she wanted him to do, but he was hesitant, unsure. He blinked several times, trying to reorient as he scrounged up the mettle to open his mouth, and when he finally did, laving his tongue along the ribbed underside of the toy, Utahime grinned devilishly.
Her grip on his hair loosened as he began to suck on the fake cock with fervor, bobbing his head back and forth like a seasoned pro. She swept his snow-white, too long fringe out of his ocean eyes and cupped his strong jaw in her other hand, brushing the pad of her thumb across his cheek as she softly commended, “That’s my good boy.”
Gojo choked immediately, sputtering around the toy but encouraged to take it deeper nonetheless. His hands bolted up from the bed to squeeze her ass and pull her closer, breathing feverishly through his nose as the tip of the phallus approached his uvula. He blinked away the tears that had welled up in his eyes just so he could watch her gaze down at him so marvelously, snickering at his eagerness to please. She could’ve done anything to him in that moment, demanded absolutely anything of him. He was so high on her praise he would’ve sacrificed his dignity, himself if he knew she’d exalt him for it.
He could’ve done it all night – suckle a goddamn rubber cock like his whole life depended on it so long as Utahime never stopped looking at him that way, petting him like she was, extolling him over and over, but once she found his submission satisfactory, she tapped his chin and firmly stated, “That’s enough, Satoru.”
Gojo backed away cautiously, spit stringing between his lips and the toy as he did, and he coughed, swallowing all of the drool he’d produced while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Utahime reached for the lube again, and Gojo watched as she poured a generous amount onto the dildo. He stared hungrily as she stroked it, evenly distributing the slick, and his mouth suddenly ran dry, the excess saliva he’d had a second earlier having seemingly evaporated. His cheeks burned in a furious blush, and his heart threatened to crack his ribs. This was really happening.
“It’s alright,” Utahime reassured, placing her dry hand flat on his clammy chest. Gojo relented easily, falling back onto the mattress brusquely. “Just lay back, and relax.”
Blood pounded behind his ears as Gojo blinked up at the ceiling. He hadn’t expected her to fuck him in such an… intimate position. “Um…” he spoke, pausing to clear his throat as his voice cracked disgracefully, “y-you don’t… want me on all fours or-or something?”
Utahime snorted loudly as she spread his legs out wider and lifted one knee to his chest. His eyes rounded in shock as he felt her lubed hand position the dildo at his hole, her face appearing just inches above his. Gojo could’ve died then and there from embarrassment. Was it really necessary for her to laugh at him when she had him in such a compromising position?
“Absolutely not,” she replied defiantly. She leaned down, ghosting her lips over his as the cock strapped to her pelvis prodded for entrance. Gojo gasped, hips bucking of their own accord. “I wanna see that pretty face of yours when you come on my cock.”
In a mix of roiling trepidation and fierce arousal, Gojo surged upward to kiss her with untampered voracity. He’d said that same thing to her times over, yet it had never sounded sexier than it did when it left her lips. He’d also been struck as speechless as she typically was, understanding for the first time the power of those words, and he hoped that his actions alone would be enough to inspire her to get the fuck on with it already, because he didn’t have the mental fortitude to plead for her to do so at present.
Gojo stopped breathing the second he felt the tip breach his rim. It didn’t hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. He was sweating profusely, anxiety at its peak, and the tension that had seized his muscles was rejecting Utahime’s shallow, probative thrusts.
“Satoru,” Utahime cooed, adjusting her grip on his knee while she brushed his hair off of his perspiring forehead with her other hand, “it’s okay. Let me in. Please.”
Something deep inside Gojo fractured, and the most serene feeling imaginable washed over him. He cupped Utahime’s face in his hands and stared up into stunning brown eyes that he would’ve fallen head over heels for in that very moment were he not already irrevocably in love with them, with her. Every fiber of his being relaxed, the air in his lungs whooshing out in a deep, cleansing exhale, and slowly – achingly, maddeningly, oh-so-slowly – Utahime seated herself fully inside him.
Utahime smiled at him so proudly that Gojo felt the overwhelming urge to weep, but alas, he resisted. He’d had enough vulnerability in the past hour for an entire lifetime, and in the face of overcoming the biggest hurdle, all he wanted was a mind-numbing, teeth-chattering orgasm to help him forget about all the mushy, sappy bullshit she’d subjected him to.
“You did it. I knew you could take it. Such a good boy, my best boy,” Utahime acclaimed between chaste pecks to Gojo’s open mouth, and he was helpless but to whine, his cock twitching and leaking against his belly. He felt so full, so whole, but it wasn’t enough to bring him to release. He needed more.
“Utahime,” he choked out, and she beamed down at him, “move.”
A deep, rich laugh rumbled in her chest, a sound so sensual that Gojo shuddered involuntarily. Utahime rose to her knees, raking the hand she’d had in his hair down to his chest as she coolly retorted, “As you wish, Satoru-kun.”
When her hips began a steady rhythm, Gojo was certain he’d reached nirvana. She’d somehow managed to position the dildo directly at his prostate, and every gentle glide across it was like seeing the face of God. He lost all cognitive function, forgetting how to breathe completely as she stretched him beyond all pre-conceived limitations. He wondered fleetingly if this was how she felt the first time he fucked her, like he was carving out a space inside her for him and him alone. It was base, primal, and absolutely filthy in all the right ways.
Boldly, Utahime ventured to pull out to the tip before propelling forward again, and Gojo groaned loudly, his eyes rolling back into his skull. He miraculously found his breath, his speech along with it and brokenly demanded, “Again… Do that again… Harder.”
Dominant though she was, Utahime complied eagerly. She set a brutal pace, pounding into him in much the same way that she liked it, and Gojo understood why then. There really was nothing else quite like being fucked. The lewd, wet smacking of bare flesh on bare flesh, the sound of ragged breaths echoing off every wall, the sweet ecstasy of complete fullness – it was divine, paradisical.
All sensation in Gojo’s body abruptly honed in on his pelvis when Utahime moved her hand from where it had rested on his chest to grasp his cock. She smeared the transparent fluids that threaded between his angry, red tip and his pale abs down the length of him, pumping him hard and fast. Gojo panted frenziedly as everything built all at once, a crescendo rising higher and growing louder.
“Harder, Uta,” he croaked, and her thrusts quickened in response, bordering on violent in their intensity.
“Come for me, Satoru,” Utahime breathlessly ordered.
Every muscle in Gojo’s body went rigid instantly, his balls drawing taut and ass clenching tightly as his hot seed roped up his chest, and he was unmade, his very molecules seeming to slice apart in unbridled euphoria. Utahime stilled her hips, milking him dry with her hand as the final few spurts splattered his neck and chin. Gojo couldn’t even conjure up the ire to be bothered by the mess he’d made of himself, floating listlessly in a haze of pure bliss.
Through fanned lashes and bleary eyes, he saw Utahime stoop to place chaste kisses to his heaving chest, and he whimpered when he felt her tongue licking globs of his spend from his skin, his sac fretfully attempting to eject more from the sight alone. She sat back on her haunches a moment later, and he watched her lips form around words as his vision sharpened, distantly recognizing the sound of her speaking his given name when the ringing in his ears finally subsided. “Satoru, I’m going to pull out now. Is that alright?” she tenderly asked. All he could do was nod in reply and grimace as he was emptied, left feeling like a shell of his former self. It made sense then why she always wanted him to stay inside her after they both came. The fullness was so comforting, so placating.
Gradually, all of his senses returned to him, and he was able to shakily raise himself into a sitting position. He still felt jittery and tingly from his climax, but even more so, he felt hot, sticky, and gross. He realized then that Utahime was gone, the strap abandoned on the bed at his side. He heard the faucet running in their adjoining bathroom, and when she returned a few minutes later with a warm, damp cloth in hand, Gojo smiled at her slovenly.
“I assume it was good,” she queried as she crawled into his lap again and began wiping the remnants of his ejaculate from his torso. Her breathing was still a bit labored from her exertions, her bangs clinging to her clammy forehead. Her makeup had begun to melt off, mascara pooled beneath her eyes, but Gojo didn’t care. To him, she looked as radiant as ever.
Gojo’s twinkling eyes slid up lazily to meets hers, pupils still dilated as oxytocin and dopamine continued to flood his brain. “Incredible,” he complimented, leaning forward to kiss her. “Amazing. Magnificent. Phenomenal. Sublime.” He kissed her between each adjective, though Utahime attempted to evade him so she could finish her task, but Gojo chased her at every turn, eventually reducing her to giggling heap as he peppered saccharine kisses all across her face. “As great as it was for me, though,” he interjected when her laughter began to diminish, “you didn’t get yours, and I think that’s a grave injustice that needs to be rectified.”
Before Utahime could even form a rebuttal, Gojo had wrenched the washcloth from her hand and flung it onto the floor. He hooked his arms under her knees and hauled her up his chest, plopping back onto the bed to seat her on his face. Utahime gasped, startled by his lightning quick reflexes and shrieked when he ripped her panties completely off her body. She was sopping wet, her slick trickling down her folds like condensation from a cold milkshake, and Gojo licked his lips in anticipation, abruptly craving something sweet.
He didn’t waste a second before diving in, lathing his tongue between her labia and puckering his lips around her engorged clit. Utahime whimpered, thighs trembling already as she tangled one hand in Gojo’s mop of hair and one in the duvet above his head. He knew it wouldn’t take much stimulation for her to come undone, but despite his self-centeredness, he wanted to prolong her pleasure for as long as he could. He wanted to make her feel as good and as thoroughly sated as he did.
Against his chin, Gojo could feel her entrance fluttering and pulsing, and he finally understood that sensation, the desperate, yearning ache to be filled. He answered the call by effortlessly delving two long fingers into her velvety cunt, locating the ribbed spot just inside almost immediately. He swirled his fingertips around it a few times, working her clit delicately with his teeth as he did, and Utahime wailed above him.
“Satoru, I – “ was all she managed before her walls clenched around his fingers, and she quaked profusely, grinding her pelvis into his face to eke out every bit of friction she could get. She gushed into his mouth, over his nose, and down his chin and neck, and Gojo groaned as he swallowed every last drop, his cock stiffening rebelliously. He could’ve activated Infinity to prevent himself from drowning and to get some much-needed air, but he ultimately elected not to do so. If this was how he died, then so be it. At least he’d go out happy and not at the hands of some abominably overpowered special grade – sorcerer or curse.
“Satoru…” Utahime spoke hesitantly, her voice still wavering in the comedown. She squealed when Gojo swiftly sat up and lowered her into his lap, careful to avoid his half-hard cock as he positioned her over his thighs. Fortunately, Utahime didn’t seem to notice it as he shook his head like a wet dog after a bath, effectively splattering her with her own release. “Satoru!”
“What? You fucking soaked me, babe. How else am I supposed to dry off?” he asked, grinning fiendishly as Utahime furiously wiped at her face.
Utahime glowered at him, her cheeks still beautifully flushed. Gojo adored the way it deepened the hue of her scar, even if she loathed it. “With a towel,” she grumbled petulantly. “Preferably after a shower, which we both need right now.”
“Oh? Round two, you said?” Gojo challenged, quirking a brow at her.
There were no vocal protests, only the vexed rolling of brown eyes as Gojo stood from the bed with Utahime wrapped around him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and allowed him to tote her off to the bathroom, humming contentedly as he nibbled on her shoulder.
Meanwhile, Gojo wondered how soon he could convince her to peg him again. Doggy-style was Utahime’s favorite position, after all, and he was eager to understand the appeal himself.