Chapter Text
It’s like a gunshot, it’s like a cannon, it’s everything and it’s nothing. It’s the kiss Suguru’s been waiting for years and the kiss Satoru’s been unknowingly yearning for as well.
They collide together, a mess of lips and tongue. Satoru curls both arms around Suguru’s shoulders, holding him as tight as a man drowning would hold a liferaft. Suguru threads his fingers through Satoru’s hair, touch heavy but reverent. They fit together like pieces of the same miserable puzzle, and Satoru can finally breathe.
Suguru drags his lips against the bottom of Satoru’s chin, biting playfully. “I’ve dreamt of this too,” he says into Satoru’s skin, voice warm, so warm. He tugs lightly at the strands of Satoru’s hair.
Satoru’s back bows, arching into Suguru, his Suguru.
“Yeah?” he whispers, hoarse. “Did I rock your world in your teenage wet dreams?”
“Something like that.”
Suguru pushes him, and suddenly Satoru’s falling down, down, down into Suguru’s bed. His head spins from the sudden change, and he props himself up by his elbows, huffing.
“Hey, what the hell—”
His breath catches in his chest.
Suguru towers over him, his gaze dark. His hair falls over his face, his cheeks are pink, and he’s so beautiful. Satoru swallows, tracing over his features greedily.
“What else did you dream about, Suguru?” He whispers.
Suguru stares at him, breath going shallow.
“Tell me,” Satoru says, and reaches up to loop his arms around Suguru’s neck. He pulls him down, with him, on top of him, till there’s nothing but the pleasant weight of Suguru everywhere on his body. “Tell me what you dreamt about and I’ll let you do it.”
He jerks his hips up to meet Suguru’s and grins as the man on top of him chokes.
“Tell me,” he whispers into Suguru’s reddened ear.
“Fucking hell, Satoru,” Suguru groans, fingers clenching in the sheets next to Satoru’s head, obviously trying not to put his full body weight on Satoru—lest he crushes him. It’s a sweet gesture, but…
He thinks of all the men Suguru brought back home. Their noises, their moans, the way these faceless, irrelevant men cried out Suguru’s name like he was their god.
He doesn’t really want sweet.
Slowly, he turns his head and, without breaking eye contact, bites Suguru’s wrist.
“Ow!” Suguru jerks, obviously not expecting the sudden, harsh action, and his elbows give out. He falls on top of Satoru.
Satoru lets out a quiet, “oof,” at the sudden impact, and nuzzles his grin into the side of Suguru’s neck.
“You’re such a…” Suguru breathes out, winded, and rests his cheek on the top of Satoru’s head.
“Such a what?”
“A brat,” Suguru finishes, and Satoru can feel the amused curl of the other man’s lips against his forehead.
“Fuck it out of me, then,” Satoru whispers, and bites Suguru’s neck.
He drags his teeth across Suguru’s adam’s apple, feeling it bob, and flicks his tongue over it, quick and teasing. Then he works himself up, mouthing at his jawline, trying to hold back his laughter at the way Suguru tenses above him, breath getting shorter.
“You’ve never been fucked before,” Suguru stutters as he pulls away.
“No,” Satoru says, patiently. “I haven’t. Aren’t you glad that you’ll be the first?”
He flutters his lashes up at Suguru, who gawks down at him, slack-jawed.
“Satoru,” Suguru says, after a beat. His voice takes on a firmer tone this time. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to.”
Good old heroic Suguru.
Satoru can’t help but feel affection for his chivalry routine. It’s…cute.
“I won’t let you do anything I don’t want to do,” Satoru says, calm. “And I want you to fuck me.”
Suguru regards him with hooded eyes, maybe looking for any sign of a lie. Satoru looks back at him.
Then, with a quiet sigh, Suguru pulls away, painfully slowly, inch by inch. Satoru whines, reaching out. “Come back,” he whines, missing the heat and the feeling of Suguru’s body on his. “Suguru, come back.”
“Jesus,” Suguru says, and his voice sounds pained. “Alright, gorgeous, be patient.”
Heat flood Satoru’s cheeks at the nickname and he cocks an eyebrow.
“Gorgeous?” he questions, pretending like his heart wasn’t fluttering in his chest.
Suguru flushes and he shoots Satoru a smile that’s half self-conscious, half cocky. It’s a good look on him. “Like it that much?” he teases. “Your whole face is red.”
“As if.”
Suguru laughs, then runs a hand through Satoru’s hair. Satoru curves into it, like a sunflower reaching out to sunlight.
“Can I take this off, Satoru?” Suguru runs a palm down Satoru’s thigh, leaving behind goosebumps in its wake. It takes a moment for him to realize that he means Satoru’s jeans and, after another moment, he nods.
Suguru grins down at him and reaches one hand to rest on Satoru’s sternum, right above the waist of his jeans. It’s a comfortable weight. He starts to slide the button of his jeans out, ever so slowly.
Like a tease.
Satoru growls, reaching down, but Suguru catches his wrist with his other hand, in one smooth motion—intertwining their fingers together.
“Patience,” Suguru whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I,” Satoru pants, watching as Suguru roll his jeans down, past his thighs, knees, and ankles. Then they’re completely off, and Satoru…Satoru feels exposed in only his shirt and boxers, chilly air biting the bare skin of his legs. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Suguru leans down and presses a reverent kiss to Satoru’s knee. Satoru jerks at the contact, arousal lighting him up from the inside. “But will you let me take care of you?”
Satoru clenches his fingers in the bedsheets and slowly, he nods.
Suguru grins at him and his hand falls on Satoru’s clothed crotch, already half hard.
“Ah!” Satoru gasps at the contact and bows forward, bucking his hips into the sudden weight. “Suguru—”
Suguru grinds his palm down against the fabric, rough and uncaring, and Satoru groans. Too little friction, he thinks, too little heat, he needs…he needs.
“Suguru,” he says, trying not to stutter. “Take them off.”
“Take what off?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow. His fingers find the outline of Satoru’s cock, confined in the oppressive fabric of his underwear, and wrap around it in a vice-like grip. Satoru whines, pushing his hips forward.
“Don’t, ah, be cute,” he demands. “Take my fucking clothes off.”
“Bossy,” Suguru mutters, but his voice is light and amused. He hooks the fingers of his free hand in the elastic waistband of his boxers and gives a teasing tug. “What’s the magic word?”
“Do it or I kick your nuts,” Satoru says, brightly.
Suguru laughs. “Okay, fair.” He pulls Satoru’s boxers off and Satoru shivers at the sudden cold. Before he has the chance to complain, Suguru is already leaning down, his eyes boring into Satoru’s, and—
“Fuck!” Satoru gasps as Suguru swallows him down.
His hands go flying up to grasp at Suguru’s hair.
Suguru hums, approvingly, and the vibrations on Satoru’s cock is all too much. Whining, he tugs at Suguru’s hair, wanting more, more, more.
Suguru slides off the length of his dick, lips glistening, just enough to kiss the head in an almost delicate touch. He pulls away and Satoru trembles underneath him.
He’s had sex before, but with Suguru, somehow, he feels like a blushing virgin, shaking as Suguru takes him apart with nothing but his mouth.
“Want me to fuck you?” Suguru asks, amused. His voice is rough and dripping with honey, and Satoru bites back a groan at the sound of it.
“Yeah,” Satoru pants.
Suguru grins, sharp and mean.
“Beg for it.”
“I don’t beg,” Satoru grumbles, though he can feel his resolve breaking with every second Suguru spends looking up at him with those eyes of his. Fuck, Satoru, he tells himself, stay strong, stay strong.
“C’mon, gorgeous,” Suguru whispers. “Just say please. Be a good boy, hm?”
Satoru’s face flushes hot. God, Suguru was a fucking menace in bed and Satoru had been sorely unprepared for it.
Suguru kisses his hip, right on a birthmark Satoru has. He’s shown this birthmark to Suguru more times than he can count, first when they were fifteen and changing for the physical education lesson.
He had forced Suguru to poke it, for some reason he can’t remember.
Now, Suguru is kissing it.
Satoru tries not to melt at the feeling. He fails.
“Please,” he gets out, through gritted teeth. “Please fuck me, almighty Suguru, lord of my heart, fire of my loins, Juliet to my Romeo—”
Suguru laughs into his skin and the sound rings through Satoru’s ears.
“Never thought you’d ask, Satoru.”
When Suguru slides the first finger in him, Satoru tenses, discomfort and a foreign feeling of worry suddenly washing over him. He clings onto Suguru’s neck, trying to bury his face against his throat and never return back into the world.
‘S’guru,” he whispers, cursing himself for feeling so vulnerable. He’s Gojo Fucking Satoru, something as simple as this shouldn’t scare him but…
“Satoru,” Suguru noses at his hair, not pulling away. Like he somehow senses Satoru’s nervousness, he murmurs: “What’s wrong, baby?”
Oh.
Nobody’s ever called him that before, Satoru would rip their throat out with his teeth before they could even try, but coming from Suguru—his Suguru—the nickname is like a balm to his nerves. He licks his lips, trying to formulate the correct words in his muddled brain.
“M’ scared,” he admits.
He doesn’t remember when he last admitted that to anybody. The weight of it slides off his chest, and he burrows in closer to Suguru. If he could meld them together to form an amalgamation of one human, a perfect combination of Suguru and Satoru, he would.
He thinks he could fit comfortably against Suguru forever.
“Do you want to stop?” Suguru asks him, seriously.
“No,” Satoru frowns, mouthing at Suguru’s adam’s apple. He feels how Suguru shudders at the feeling of his lips against his skin. “I want this, I want you.”
“Okay,” Suguru says, like it’s that simple, and Satoru could kiss him for it. He doesn’t coddle Satoru in the face of his new vulnerability and it’s so Suguru , Satoru can’t help but grin. “Then what do you want me to do?”
Satoru exhales, slow.
“Put another finger in,” he tells him. “Slowly.”
Suguru doesn’t question his command and does as he’s told. The stretch burns, but the fear lessens with it. Suguru opens him up slowly, like Satoru had asked him to, and, after a moment, Satoru manages to sink into it
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Suguru whispers. “God, when I first saw you, I finally understood what ethereal meant.”
Satoru grins at the praise. ”Then you decided to punch me.”
“I never said your mouth was ethereal. You were the most spoiled young master I’d ever met in my life.”
Satoru laughs, about to respond back, when Suguru brushes against someplace inside him that sends his body jerking in pleasure. Satoru wheezes, gripping on tight to Suguru’s hair (probably hard enough to yank out a few strands). Even his fucking legs tremble from where they’re wrapped around Suguru’s waist.
“What the fuck,” he hisses.
Suguru smirks down at him, brushing Satoru’s hair out of his eyes with his free hand.
“That feel good, baby?”
“What the fuck,” Satoru repeats.
Suguru pushes his fingers there, gently at first then harder, over and over until Satoru is groaning so loudly he wonders if their next-door neighbors can hear. He hopes they can. He wants the whole world to know that Suguru belongs to him, that no other man or woman can have him the way Satoru has him now, flushed red with want and staring down at Satoru like he’s the best thing in the world.
“S-Suguru,” he manages between moans, trying to keep his eyes from rolling back. “If you keep going like that I’ll, fuck—”
“You’ll what?” Suguru asks him, like he doesn’t already know.
“I’ll come before you can fuck me.”
Suguru’s eyes darken.
“Don’t think I can make you come again from my cock alone?” he asks and Satoru blinks up at him, shocked.
“I’ve never,” he pauses to bite back another low noise because, Christ, Suguru is still fucking him with his fingers, rough enough to send Satoru scabbling for purchase on…something, anything.
“I’ve never come twice.” He finishes. His stamina is good, really good, and he’s usually the one making his partners finish multiple times before it’s his turn.
Suguru hums, amused.
“Let’s try it out sometime,” he says and Satoru whines at that. Fuck, he’d do anything if Suguru kept talking to him like that, all sweet and quiet, like it was just them in the world and nobody else.
Then he withdraws, leaving Satoru cold, empty, and alone on the bed.
He reaches out to grab Suguru and pull him back down to where he was but stops when he sees Suguru finally, finally unbuttoning his own pants.
Suguru looks back at him, eyes heavy with want.
“Tonight, though,” he murmurs. “I’ll go easy on you, baby.”
He doesn’t know what he was expecting by Suguru’s meaning of easy was but, this? This hadn’t been it.
His moans spill out of him, punctured out by nothing but Suguru’s hips and his teeth digging into Satoru’s skin. His fingernails dig into the bedsheets, trying to regain some strength while Suguru fucks into him like Satoru is nothing but a toy for him to use. Fuck, he’s going insane .
“Suguru,” he gasps out, the name broken up by little ah, ah, ahs. “S-slow down.”
Suguru grins down at him, teeth bared.
“Whatever you want, gorgeous.”
He draws out, leaving Satoru clenching around nothing.
Satoru whines. “Wait, no, come back.”
Suguru laughs, unable to deny him for longer, and leans in to brush his mouth against Satoru’s.
“Beautiful,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips and Satoru shivers happily.
Then he lifts one of Satoru’s legs up from its death grip around Suguru’s waist so it rests on his shoulder instead. The sudden position change suddenly leaves him vulnerable, much more spread open for Suguru to admire.
It’s terrifying as it is hot.
“S’guru,” Satoru slurs. “This position is—”
“Relax,” Suguru purrs. “Just lay back and let me do the work.”
“Wh—”
Suguru slams back in and Satoru almost swallows his whole tongue. He thinks he garbles out something like Suguru’s name, before Suguru is doing it again and again, until Satoru can barely breathe.
When his other leg starts slipping from Suguru’s waist, Suguru brings that one up to his shoulder too, so that both of Satoru’s legs are on his shoulders. He’s bared completely open like this, with nowhere to run or hide. He’s never been taken apart like this.
He knows he won’t let anyone but Suguru do this to him.
Suguru fucks him until he can’t think, till all he can do is claw at Suguru’s tattooed forearms until they bleed crimson red. He would apologize for it if he thought that Suguru wasn’t turned on by the show of strength. When Satoru’s nails break Suguru’s skin, the other man grinds his dick so hard into Satoru, he almost cries at the overstimulation.
“Good boy,” Suguru says through pretty moans. “You’re behaving so fucking well for me, baby.”
Satoru is seeing fucking stars, he thinks he might be drooling.
“Close,” he manages. “I’m close, Suguru.”
“Then, fuck, come,” Suguru tells him, his teeth clenched to stave of his clearly impending orgasm.
“Can’t,” Satoru whines. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you,” Suguru says, because he’s an asshole. Then he reaches down and swipes a thumb over Satoru’s cock. Satoru’s back bows off the bed.
“Harder,” he gasps out. “More.”
He’s so close, he just needs—
“I love you,” Suguru whispers, and his confession sends Satoru to open his eyes, seeking out Suguru’s face. ”I think I was put on this earth to love you, to worship you, to need you.”
He closes his fist around Satoru’s cock and Satoru groans, body shaking.
“You’re my one and only, Satoru,” Suguru turns his head and presses a kiss to Satoru’s ankle. “Nobody could even dream of coming close.”
Satoru comes with a cry.
He almost blackouts for a second, but when he comes to it, Suguru is lazily fucking into him, his eyes glued onto Satoru’s face—drinking him in like he can’t get enough.
Satoru whines at the overstimulation, scrambling to get away, to get closer, but Suguru holds him steady. He’s the only one who ever could.
“Suguru,” Satoru says, his voice scratchy and rough from his moans. Suguru looks at him, patient. “Come.” He commands and Suguru does just that, groaning as he does.
Satoru never looks away either.
When they collapse together on the bed, sweaty and wrung dry, Satoru manages to wrap his arms around Suguru’s waist and tug him in close.
“Suguru,” he whispers into Suguru’s skin.
“Hm,” Suguru responds, exhausted but still indulging in Satoru.
“I love you,” he says, because it’s that simple. “I love you.”
(a year later)
“Suguru, you’re so handsome,” Satoru croons and rests his head on Suguru’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes up at his other half dramatically. “So strong and brave.”
Suguru runs a hand through Satoru’s hair, grinning.
“No, Satoru,” he simpers in a high voice. “You’re so much more handsome. You’re so tall and strong.”
“Suguru!’
“Satoru!”
Shoko clears her throat.
“We are in public and people are staring at us,” she hisses, her fingers clenched tight around her cigarette “Have some fucking decorum.”
Satoru sticks his tongue out at her.
“Don’t be homophobic, Shoko,” he snaps at her.
Suguru shakes his head. “Can't believe there’s still prejudice in this day and age,” he grins conspiratorially at Satoru, and Satoru’s heart thumps wildly at the sight of his smile. “Y’know, I had a homophobic roommate once.”
“Oh, really?” Satoru slides his hand into Suguru’s. Their palms fit well together, but the simple obsidian ring glinting on Suguru’s fourth finger really seals the deal, in Satoru’s humble opinion. “What happened to him?”
Suguru’s laugh is rainfall.
“Take a wild guess, gorgeous.”
(When they kiss, it's like coming home. Satoru sinks into it and lets it consume him. Shoko groans and drops her face into her hands.)