Chapter Text
I've sat here speechless trying to think of a note, but I believe all I can say is thank you to all of you, and especially to Jess, Val, and Crystal, all of whom have listened to me ramble about this story for days while I tried to sort through my thoughts about it. I sincerely hope you all enjoy the rest <3
***
Utahime blinked herself very slowly out of what she thought had been a long sleep, her body settled, her mind relaxed. She could see that the sunlight pouring in through the windows was soft and golden, which confirmed her suspicion—it was the light of the late afternoon, the light of the sunset. Her favorite time of day, when the sun most closely matched the hue of her own cursed energy, glimmering and pleasant and eager to illuminate all whom it touched. It threw their room into a lovely shade, making the flowers painted upon the ceiling look deeper, more realistic.
Utahime tilted her head to look up at them, her gaze following the vines, the blooms. She found lilies, the very same that had decorated the tables at their wedding reception. She found sneaking purple blossoms of wisteria, tucked into odd places, between the stems of other plants, small clusters in the corners. A hidden beauty, something secret. Utahime wondered, as she looked at the blossoms, if she had dreamed again of the wisteria grove in the gardens of the Gojo estate while she had slept. She thought she might’ve, because she realized she was smiling, and that her scar was tingling, as if a happy little breeze had blown across it.
They had been quiet; a soft silence settling since they had stepped out of the shower, unspeaking but always touching, even in sleep. Unspeaking, but always touching; and even as Utahime thought about it, there was a shift in the mattress behind her, a very slight movement as Gojo shifted closer to her, his arm locking securely over her waist. He dragged her backwards into his body, his sigh so quiet that Utahime wondered if he’d given up being frustrated. His fingers traced a small pattern over her belly before they stilled, his hand feeling heavy and limp with sleep.
Her scar tingled again, and Utahime thought once more of the breeze in her dreams, the wind in the garden, the soft comfort. She felt a strange, breathless excitement alight in her at the memory of it, knowing now that it had always been him, always Gojo, always Satoru. And the weakness he had been always sure to remind her of, the weakness that he hated: his , rather than hers.
Utahime closed her eyes upon starting down this trail of thought, considering this idea with another wash of the strange excitement. She began to roll Gojo’s words through her mind, repeating them again and again until they felt like something logical rather than a lunacy.
They think you’re weak, Utahime.
They. Not I, not me.
They.
Utahime remembered Gojo’s soft groan, his quiet gasp as her power flooded into him, the storm in his ocean calming, the crashing of his waves lessening. She thought with a small smile of his slack-jawed expression, and of the golden mist floating through his hair, resting atop his eyelashes. He was so beautiful on his own, with his ice and snow and sharpness. But—but with her own glow about him, the soft sparkle of her cursed energy swirling around him—something about it hurt a little to think about. It felt like biting into a frozen popsicle on a hot summer day, the coolness too refreshing, the sweetness too good.
Weak. I’m so—
Utahime’s mind hopped onto the next bewildering phrase Gojo had spoken before she was quite done considering the first, and she found herself burrowing a little deeper into his arms. His fingers drew another shape over her belly, quick and perhaps too precise for her to assume that he was actually asleep.
Weak.
In her desire for him, in her enjoyment of his touch, his body, his mouth, his kisses. Weak, because his arms were wrapped around her, his embrace firm, the fit snug, and Utahime thought there was something inexplicably safe about the whole thing, as if a small place just for her had been carved out in the shape of his body.
Held, protected, and —
This was how it had felt for him, Utahime thought, remembering how Gojo had held her after warping back with her from the gardens. She had danced, she had shared her strength, and she had made a place for him within her. A place where even the relentlessness of storm, the endlessness of his ocean, could afford to be calm.
Weak in her desire for him, weak in her enjoyment of his touch. Utahime thought of Gojo’s anger, his furious whispers in the dark, his quick, unintentional movements that she now recognized had been helpless. She thought of how he had tossed her across their hotel room, and tucked her into bed. Or how he had yanked her from her mattress to his, asking if he could pleasure her with his mouth. She thought of how he had carefully thrown her into the shower, and the feeling of his naked body behind hers, his hard cock pressing into her.
He had liked it, Utahime thought. Gojo had liked all of it: her touch, her body, her mouth. He hadn’t been able to help it, either.
Weak.
Gojo’s fingers made another little pattern on her belly, a low stroke, the tips of them brushing against her thighs. Utahime, eyes still closed, felt the loudness in her mind slowly silence itself until she was aware of only Gojo, his body behind her and his hand resting atop her. He was touching her gently now, his knuckles brushing over her thighs, his lips somewhere by her earlobe. He breathed out, slow and careful, and Utahime felt herself shiver, chills over her shoulders.
“You’re awake,” Gojo said, his voice cutting smoothly through the silence, the sharpest knife.
“So are you,” Utahime whispered, opening her eyes again to the golden tint of their room.
She nearly gasped, because it was truly lovely now, the light catching the dust floating through the air, making everything softly sparkle. She imagined how it would reflect off of Gojo’s eyes, warming the ice, gold cracking through blue.
“Hungry?” Gojo asked, his hand finding her own on her thigh, his fingers sliding in between hers.
Utahime laughed softly, amused for some reason, but nodded, feeling her hair bunch on his chest.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Always,” Gojo answered, laughing too, gentle and clear.
He stroked slowly over the back of her hand, touching her thumb, her index finger, her middle finger, before he stopped, the tips of his fingers resting over her ring, the thing that made her his.
Togetherness, Utahime thought, something clicking in her mind. That felt right. That could be the meaning.
“I’ll get us something,” he said, slipping his hand from hers, the bed creaking as he sat up.
Utahime felt a coolness, an emptiness at her back where his body had been, and realized suddenly that her hair was still wet, sticking to her shoulders. She heard the sounds of Gojo pulling on his clothes from somewhere behind her, and rolled over onto her side so she might watch him dress, feeling curious. Heat rose to her cheeks upon seeing him, because Gojo’s eyes were already resting on her as he clothed himself, the muscles in his thighs shifting as he stepped into his jeans. He had been moving quickly as was his wont, but slowed as he met her gaze, buckling his belt, slinging his shirt over his head. There were wrinkles by the hem, and so Gojo smoothed his hand over them, evening them out.
He regarded her carefully for a moment, a muscle working in his jaw, and then dipped his fingers into both of his pockets, searching for something. He found what he was seeking after only a moment, wiggling out a couple of the candies just like the ones that Utahime had seen when she had searched through the pocket of the kimono he had worn to their wedding.
Gojo shifted, moving into the orbit of the sun, and Utahime saw that the light did indeed make the ice in his eyes look as if it had cracked, exactly as she had expected. They seemed to shine, the sun turning them to liquid. He smiled softly.
“Hime. Catch.”
Utahime squeaked, holding a hand up on reflex as Gojo chucked one of the candies to her, throwing it so quickly that it made a quiet zipping noise as it shot through the air. To her great surprise, she caught it, the candy landing solidly in the middle of her palm. Utahime closed her fingers around it, thinking that it felt oddly squished, wondering if it had melted a little in his pocket.
Gojo’s laugh rang out from the bathroom, and then suddenly from near her ear, the mattress dipping as he warped onto it, landing on his knees behind her.
“Nice catch,” he whispered, his laughter fading to the softness of his voice.
Utahime could feel the scratchy material of his jeans against her shoulders, the dip in the mattress urging her to roll further into him. But then Gojo shifted his weight, and the mattress sprang flat as the scratchiness against her skin disappeared, replaced by the quiet humming wind of his Infinity.
Utahime felt the lingering flush in her cheeks deepen as a cautious excitement curled in her, her eyelashes fluttering because she could already feel it, the breeze brushing over her, Satoru rather than a nameless wind.
Her breath hitched, turning irregular as the breeze began to wind slowly up her arms, through the wet strands of her hair. It touched her fingers, wrapping carefully around one of them, and then blew up and over her forehead, twisting the ends of her bangs. Utahime could feel it all, every touch, every movement, the things she had dreamed of pushed into reality. She nearly closed her eyes at the pleasure of it, but turned her head over her shoulder instead, her gaze locking onto Gojo’s as he slid his hands over her body indulgently, a cool wind laced with the secret softness buried deep.
The sun wasn’t shining into his eyes anymore, and Utahime could see in his closeness that the liquid in them hadn’t been a trick of the light—they were melted, melted and glowing like stars as he touched a finger to the tip of her nose, the place where he had first kissed her.
Utahime saw the glow in his eyes brighten, and he bit his lip for a moment, his finger still on her nose.
“I lied to you,” he said quietly, sliding his finger up the bridge of her nose, along the line of her eyebrow.
“Did you?” Utahime asked, looking up at him, trying to read him, attempting to decipher the look in his eyes.
She sorted through the things he had said, all his short, brief sentences that she realized now had been small confessions, a glimpse into the core of a person shrouded by ice.
Your scar. Was it your fault?
Weak.
You’re so—fucking pretty.
You shouldn’t look at me like that.
Say it again, Hime. Say my name how you said it before.
Would you like that, Utahime?
Weak. I’m so—
“Yes,” Gojo whispered.
He closed his eyes, his eyelashes a thick fringe of white.
“I lied to you, too,” Utahime breathed.
She wondered, anxious, if what she wanted to say was too great a confession. Perhaps Gojo was going to reveal something small, and she something great. But he only nodded, and asked the very same question she had.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Gojo’s eyes opened again, a wave cresting gently through his cursed energy, the storm soothed by his own will. Utahime realized, looking up at him, that she wouldn’t have to say it, because of course she wouldn’t. He already knew. He always saw through everything.
Gojo smiled, frustrated and helpless, calm and surrendering.
Weak. I’m so—
“You wanted this,” he said gently, pulling the thoughts from her head with a voice that had, for once, lost its edge. “Me. To be married.”
“I did,” Utahime whispered, a soft moan of pleasure breaking in her throat as he stroked his thumb over her scar, such a sweet feeling.
Gojo pulled his thumb from her, his smile still surrendering. He leaned slowly down, and Utahime gasped at the sensation she had not yet felt before as Gojo touched his lips to her scar. He was silent for a minute, and then Utahime the faint movement of his lips behind his Infinity as he whispered his own secret.
“So did I.”
He pressed his lips back to her scar in a kiss that lasted for only an instant before he vanished, ripping apart the air with a small whoosh.
It took a moment, a long while during which Gojo’s confession rang loudly in her ears, for her to truly register what he had said.
So did I.
And then the memories began, a slow waltz of images as they danced through her mind. She thought of the walk to the altar in the middle of the gardens, Gojo’s arm locked around hers, holding her firm. She thought of how he had left her alone at their reception, and the flick of his thumb as he popped the cork on an endless line of champagne bottles when he had reappeared, the bubbles rising in his glass as he lifted it to his lips. She remembered how his hair had fallen over his forehead, and how his eyes had glittered like icicles when he had told her he had not wanted to marry her. And Utahime remembered how she had looked away, pulling her eyes from his face while she had said the very same thing to him, the truth buried unhappily within her.
Weak. I’m so—
Utahime sat up slowly, the sheets that had loosely covered her falling to her waist. She was naked still, and wondered absently if she ought to put something on before Gojo came back, her mind focusing on the unimportant in the face of the unbelievable. She raised her hand to her scar, unthinking in her disbelief, seeking to touch the place where the imprint of Gojo’s wind-kissed lips still lingered.
But Utahime stopped halfway there, because she had forgotten that the candy Gojo had tossed her was clutched in her fist, her fingers curling protectively around it. She smiled a little, because it really must’ve melted in his pocket, all the sugar concentrating together around the edges and thinning in the middle. She didn’t even like sweets like this, not usually, but Utahime knew she would eat this one, if only because it had been Gojo to give it to her.
Shaking her head slightly at her own ridiculousness, Utahime slid her fingers open. And then, in a slow, skidding halt, she felt her heart stop. Or maybe it was the world that had truly paused, everything stuttering, as she looked at the thing that sat in the center of her palm.
Round, gold, and glittering, it picked up the waning rays of the sun as it enjoyed its final moments in the sky, a rich glimmer. It caught the colors of the flowers that were painted on the ceiling, green and blue and red and purple, swirling together, looping around and around. Utahime could even see herself reflected, a small flash of the darkness of her hair twisted amongst all the colors.
A kaleidoscope, Utahime thought. Everything represented, an endless circle. The thing that made him hers, the thing that gave them togetherness.
Togetherness. That was it. That was the meaning. Utahime felt suddenly very sure of it, because she had felt it when she had danced, in the moment of her truest self. Strength in togetherness, strength in each other. They had made the ground shake, they had made shockwaves ripple through the earth. She had calmed Gojo’s storm, and he had held her close. All that, all that—and it was only a glimpse, a fraction, of who they could be together.
There could be no weakness. Not when she shared her strength. And, Utahime realized, as something warm dripped down her cheeks, when Gojo shared his own strength with her. She had calmed his storm, and he had held her close.
Togetherness. That was the meaning.
Utahime heard a whoosh but did not recognize what it meant, not until she felt the press of Gojo’s fingers against her ribcage, his broad hands pulling her slowly backwards until her back rested against his chest. Her head fell to rest in the crook of his neck, and his legs settled on either side of hers, an already-forgotten bag of food pushed out of the way. He held her for a moment, silent, and then breathed slowly out, one of his hands leaving her ribs. He pressed it flat over her open palm, trapping his ring in between them as he interlocked his fingers with hers.
Twining, joining.
“All the shit I said to you,” he mused, his cheek pressing into the side of her head, his chin against her ear. “And this is what makes you cry?”
Utahime felt a laugh curl up from her belly, wavering as it slid out of her throat.
“I thought you threw it into the gardens,” Utahime said, a little sadly, remembering how she had briefly considered doing the same.
She gripped his hand, and wondered now if he had held onto it all along, swapping it from the pocket of his kimono to the pants he had slept in, and then to his jeans when he had awoken. Gojo made a quiet sound, and touched his lips to her ear.
“I wanted to. Or—I wished I wanted to,” he amended. “I thought about it. And then I just…left it in my pocket.”
Utahime could feel the circle of it warming between their hands, the metal imprinting into her palm. The ring upon her own finger seemed to feel warmer, and Utahime realized it had not felt heavy for a while, as if it were a part of her now, a permanence.
“You wanted this?” Utahime breathed, trembling a little. “Me?”
She felt Gojo tense behind her, his body tightening before it all loosened. He squeezed her hand, his ring sliding against her skin.
“I thought I didn’t,” he murmured, shifting slightly, settling her more firmly into him. “I thought—I thought I hated you.”
He pressed his lips to the very edge of her cheekbone, a wordless atonement. Utahime felt herself shiver, always too susceptible to his touch.
“Why?”
Gojo chuckled softly, and kissed her again, letting his mouth linger against her for a moment.
“Because you’re pretty, and it made me want to stare. Or you would laugh, and it made me want to laugh with you.”
“Oh,” she whispered, tilting her face to the side, seeking him once more.
Gojo breathed out another laugh, and Utahime could feel the slight upward curve on his lips when he touched them to her this time.
“I thought I hated you,” he murmured, continuing. “I did hate you, I think. I never let myself look too closely at you. I never looked at your cursed energy. I never wanted to know about your technique. And then—“
He grunted, and slid his fingers from between hers, carefully twisting his wrist so that his palm opened to the ceiling. Utahime stared as her hand fell to her lap, seeing the circle of glittering gold that he had not thrown away. It reflected everything still, the fading light, the flowers on the ceiling, the darkness of her hair. And now a flash of glowing blue, eyes of ice set aflame, burning and endless.
“And then I saw you’d been hurt.”
Gojo spoke softly, tilting his hand to the left, and then to the right, letting the light catch on it in new ways, new reflections.
“My fault,” Utahime broke in, speaking out of habit.
She felt her pulse quicken, and she began to dread what he would say next, even though she knew it wasn’t directed at her, not really.
“No,” Gojo said hollowly.
Utahime turned her head to him, wondering at the small, secret thread of remorse that had woven into his voice. She could see only the side of his face, tucked into his body as she was. Sharp cheekbones, lips that had not yet set into a frown, and eyes that glittered with a sudden frost, ice crackling through the flames.
Beautiful, Utahime thought. So—beautiful. Another wave of clarity caught her as she saw the frost sparkle in his eyes, the true meaning behind another phrase he had spoken to her suddenly becoming clear.
Your scar. Was it your fault?
“My fault,” Gojo whispered, grief weighing his eyes shut. “I wasn’t there, and you were hurt. My fault.”
Utahime felt the world tip, and her breath caught in her lungs as Gojo moved her. He lifted her, and she wondered what he’d done with the ring in his palm as both of his hands settled around her ribs, turning her around, urging her body forward into his. Utahime let him, slotting with him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his back.
“I think I knew, then.”
He slid his fingers up her spine, his arms curling around her.
“Knew what?”
Utahime spoke between heartbeats, her pulse still too quick, her heart too loud.
“That I cared for you,” Gojo breathed. “I was so angry. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My fault.”
He eased her slightly back from him, and flattened his palms against her back to hold her steady, his eyes still closed. Utahime, almost as if on reflex, moved her hand up his back and over his shoulders, cupping her palm around his cheek. Gojo flinched, a soft jump, and then exhaled in slow surprise. He turned his head, pressing his lips briefly to the center of her palm before letting his eyes slip open. They were softer now, the edges melting, the ice fracturing again as he looked at her.
“So pretty,” he whispered, searching her face, tracing her features.
Utahime became suddenly aware again, looking at him, of the bubble in her chest, warm and stretching, happy and glowing. It shook slightly, a little unsteady as a pain remembered slid to the forefront of her mind.
“Was it you?” Utahime asked softly, wondering what she would do, or how she would react, if indeed it had been.
Gojo tilted his head, his eyebrows raising in slight confusion. He dipped his head, touching his lips to her nose.
“When, Hime?”
“Ayame,” Utahime whispered. “Did you—ask her to—“
She stopped herself, swallowing when she felt Gojo freeze. He dropped his eyes, letting them slide over her scar in the same motion he had done just before they had been married, seeing through the makeup that had been so thickly applied.
But it was different this time, Utahime thought. Something else shone in the blue now, a secret coming to the surface.
“I sent her to dress you,” Gojo confessed slowly, lifting his gaze back to hers. “She’s—quieter than the others.”
Utahime breathed out her agreement, feeling Gojo begin to stroke small circles on her with his fingers, gentle and soothing. Her heart was beating loudly again, a slow thump that reverberated all through her body, filling the corners.
He smiled suddenly, a quick grin that bewildered her.
“It pissed me off that I cared enough to do it,” he said, biting his lip, his eyes glinting with a self-depreciating merriment. “I told the rest of them to beat it, too. They were hanging outside of your door like—“
“Vultures?” Utahime supplied, holding back her own grin.
Gojo’s grin widened in a way that made her ache, and she rubbed her thumb over his cheek, watching as the touch made his eyelashes flutter. Something about the movement, his unintentional reaction, made a sudden peacefulness layer over her thoughts. And Utahime realized, a tremulous, frightening feeling building within her, that she would forgive him if he had been the one to ask that her scar be covered. She wouldn’t be able to help it.
“No,” Gojo said, a little hoarsely. “It wasn’t me.”
Utahime squeezed her eyes shut to hide the tears she had not realized were coming as a weight seemed to roll off of her shoulders. Maybe it had been one of the elders to make the request, or one of the haughty, beautiful women of the clan. Maybe Ayame had simply thought she had been doing her a kindness. But the fact remained that it hadn’t been him. Not Gojo, not Satoru.
Utahime felt suddenly light, as if she were floating, no more than a petal caught in the breeze. A gentle force buffeted her hand away from his face.
“All the shit I said to you,” Gojo marveled again, sounding strained. “And this makes you cry.”
There was a very soft sensation against her cheek, and Utahime gasped, the pleasure acute and wonderful as it spread through her. She heard the humming, and happiness bubbled up in her, because she was floating, seated on the wind of Gojo’s Infinity as he held her in his lap. He moved his lips to her other cheek, a slow caress over her scar, his hand sliding up into her hair to hold her close.
“Satoru.”
Gojo jolted, gasping quietly in his own turn. Utahime felt the tremor even through his Infinity, and she wondered, gazing at him as he eased back from her, how long it had been since anyone had referred to him in such a casual way. She remembered the silent fear that had surrounded him at the Gojo estate, and thought it might have been years.
“Yes?”
She began to feel it, the golden, joyous twining of her cursed energy, dancing to the rhythm of his Infinity, curling happily with the wind called Satoru. It seeped out of her, a sparkling mist that started to gather. Gojo’s lips parted, and Utahime heard the humming abruptly stop, wind catching in her hair. She sank back down atop his body as his Infinity floated away.
The mist surged forward, twining through his hair, still dancing, glimmering over his eyelashes. Gojo groaned, shuddering as his ocean began to calm, a careful soothing. The waves spiked slightly, storm clouds trying to form, but then they dissipated, filtering away to nothing.
Utahime smiled fully, her scar stretching and shifting on her face with the movement of her lips. It hurt, but only a little. And she waited, resting her gaze on him, for the weight on his own shoulders to lift, a burden that did not belong to him. She saw Gojo’s eyes widen before they softened, beautiful and raw.
“You were alone,” he said, the anger in voice belying the softness in his eyes, his jaw tight. “Weren’t you?”
Utahime thought of the night, her slowness, and the curse’s quickness. Alone then, but not now. She looked at Gojo again, wondering why her blood seemed to ache as it flowed through her. Her mist began to dissolve, unable to linger for long in the absence of her dance, but Utahime saw the tightness in Gojo’s jaw ease, slowly relenting.
“This feeling,” Gojo breathed out. “Hime—“
He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, tightening them, warm and enveloping. Utahime sighed at nearly the same time he did, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
“This feeling,” he murmured. “It’s—“
Held, protected, and —
And something else, Utahime realized, feeling the frightening, tremulous thing again. Strength in togetherness, strength in each other.
Gojo jolted again, stronger this time, and his fingers tensed on her back, indenting into her skin. Utahime felt goosebumps break out over his neck, and he shivered, his breath coming quicker while hers turned heavy, slowing as something snapped into place.
Held, protected, and loved. That was it.
One of Gojo’s hands left her back to grasp her hair, tipping her head back with his grip. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes freezing quickly over before they melted in surrender, his tongue darting to the corner of his lips.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered.
Utahime felt her heart throb, because she understood what he meant. And then it all faded, everything all at once, because Gojo’s mouth was slotted with hers, a desperate, hungry press of his lips. Utahime whimpered, sliding her hands up to his jaw, feeling the sharp lines of him, tasting him because his lips were already parted, his mouth already open to her. She could feel the softness of his hair, just the edges of it against her fingertips.
It turned slow, slow but still somehow hungry as Gojo slid his tongue with hers, gasping when she sucked at his lower lip, smiling in dark satisfaction at her whimper when he pulled her hair. A soft pleasure, a sweet pleasure, the cautious sparks of a desire that had only truly begun to awaken—and Utahime let herself fall into it, her pulse racing, her body trembling. Gojo let her hair fall around her shoulders as both his hands slid over her, down her back, over her shoulders, curling them around her hips. He gasped, groaning into her mouth as if he had only just realized she was naked, still unclothed after their shower.
Her fingers left Gojo’s face as he shifted back from her, her lips feeling puffy. His smile flashed, quick mischief that made her belly tighten, secret anticipation coiling. She gasped, because he was standing suddenly, one of his arms sliding beneath her knees and the other falling across her back, pulling her against his chest. Gojo surveyed the room quickly before meeting her eyes, a decision made.
“Catch,” he murmured, biting off the edge of his smile.
Utahime had only a moment to wonder what he had meant before air was suddenly rushing through her ears. She yelped, her hair whipping around her because Gojo had truly thrown her across their room this time, her body hurtling through the air. She was aloft only for a moment, thunking back into his arms before she had begun to arc downwards, his hold firm.
Utahime swore, struggling to gather her bearings, a little lost in the brightness of Gojo’s smile above her.
“Gotcha,” he said warmly, his laugh clear and ringing.
Utahime huffed, glaring up at him, still trying to catch her breath. Gojo laughed again, pleased with himself, and Utahime felt her facade crack a little, light shining through.
The air seemed to thicken as she looked up at him, lacing itself with a tautness that Utahime could very nearly feel. She watched Gojo’s smile fade to the corners of his lips, darkening, hunger slipping back in. She felt his body move, a few steps taken before he slowly bent down, lowering her onto the bed he had thrown her towards. Not the one they had shared in the night, the one from which he had just pulled her, but rather the one she had slept and dreamed in only briefly before awakening.
Gojo dragged his hands out from beneath her as he settled her upon the sheets, his fingers making a path over her jaw before he lifted them from her. He made a very quiet sound, and Utahime’s thighs tensed in response. His hands caught the hem of his shirt, and he pushed it slowly up and over his head, letting it fall.
He closed his eyes for a moment as his hands dropped to his jeans, his fingers working at his belt.
“I want you,” he said slowly.
Weak.
But—no, Utahime thought, her thoughts ordering themselves. It couldn’t be a weakness to want him. Strength in each other, strength in togetherness.
“I want you,” she whispered, confessing.
Gojo choked on a laugh, a groan hitching, the ice in his eyes burning wildly now.
“Good.”
Utahime heard his zipper, and she moaned softly, watching Gojo’s abdomen clench at the sound. He stepped out of his jeans, and though Utahime had seen him already, seen him, touched him, taken his cock into her mouth and made him come, she found that she was rendered breathless by the sight of him. She looked, feeling pleased that some of her mist still lingered around him, shimmering along his ribs and down by his hips, winding around his thighs.
Tall and lean, beautiful and strong.
Satoru.
Gojo shook slightly, as lost in desire as she was, and Utahime realized she’d spoken aloud, whispering his name as she stared at his nakedness.
“Say that again,” he breathed.
The mattress dipped as Gojo eased onto it, grasping her thighs to urge them apart. He moved onto his knees between her legs, and Utahime shivered in sudden shyness, watching his gaze fall down her body and to her cunt.
“Pretty,” he said absently, trailing his eyes back up again.
“Satoru,” Utahime whispered, arching slightly as he pressed his palms harder into her thighs, gripping tight.
Gojo grunted, a small tremor rocking his body. The ice that burned in his eyes had darkened, glowing softly as the sun set further, the goldenness that had illuminated their room slowly fading. She felt his hand leave her thigh, his fingers brushing over her stomach and then her hips, dipping between her legs.
“Say that when I’m inside you.”
His thumb parted her, making her arch again, a gasp in her throat. He exhaled slowly, breathing quickly back in upon feeling her wetness. He moved his thumb over her clit in a careful circle, clenching his teeth when Utahime made another breathless sound, reaching up to stroke once over his cheek.
“Say it when I make you come,” Gojo instructed, making another slick circle over her clit. “Say it how you said it that first time.”
Utahime remembered, thinking through a haze as Gojo touched her, how she had whispered a name that had felt like a secret, her palms against the wall and Gojo’s hand sliding between her legs, his voice ragged in the dark. She watched, whimpering softly as Gojo pulled his hand from her to grasp his cock instead, stroking himself with fingers made wet by her own arousal.
He leaned over her, and Utahime felt the waves of his energy roll, wild and aching, desperate and swift, anger abated. He pressed his palm into the mattress by her head, bracing his weight.
“I wanted this,” he said quietly.
He tilted his hips slightly into her, teasing his cock over her cunt, her clit, slick and ready. Utahime lifted her hips into him, and Gojo let go of himself for a moment to push her flat again, his eyes glinting, his teeth flashing.
“I made you come,” he muttered, sliding his cock over her again, slightly angry. “And it wasn’t enough.”
Utahime edged up onto her elbows, catching his mouth, swallowing his groan.
“I tasted you,” Gojo said into her lips. “And it wasn’t enough.”
Utahime kissed him again, biting his lip, her hand in his hair.
“I fucked your mouth. And it wasn’t enough,” he breathed into her, furious and wanting.
He pushed into her slightly, and Utahime cried out at the hint of the stretch, hot friction. Gojo groaned, and then pulled back from her, holding his body carefully above hers, his eyes wide.
“Fuck,” he bit out. “Utahime—fuck.”
Utahime smiled softly up at him, because though his voice was bladed, his eyes were melted, still aflame. Gojo returned it, perhaps without meaning to, and he laughed, quiet and secret, gasping a little as he stroked himself still. He shook his head, helpless.
And then—surrender. Surrender, as he shifted, bracing his weight onto his elbow rather than his palm, lowering himself, his hips fitting to hers. Utahime felt him slide his cock along her cunt again, softly teasing. He gazed at her, leaning slightly into her palm as she lifted it to his hair again, and shook his head once more, one last stand before he guided himself slowly into her.
Utahime gasped, feeling a flush rise through her, gentle pink spreading over her chest, up her throat, across her cheeks as satisfaction rippled outwards, spiraling at the slide of Gojo’s cock, the slow, aching stretch. Gojo’s eyes tracked it all, his expression hungry again as he watched her take him. He hissed through his teeth, pressing deeper, sinking in.
Air slipped between her lips, the gentlest breeze, as Utahime breathed out his name, and she watched the sound of it sweep over him, lovely and kind.
“Say it again,” Gojo said raggedly, filling her completely now, sweetly joined.
“Satoru,” Utahime whispered, words forming around the fullness, her cunt clutching.
Gojo groaned, and Utahime thought she saw a glimmer of gold in his eyes, some part of her energy that had remained in the very core of him, always soothing.
“I wanted this,” Gojo murmured, pressing his lips to hers in a brief kiss, his breath turning jagged. “You.”
He moved slowly, a careful thrust of his hips, more fullness. Utahime made a soft sound, quiet pleasure, and curled her legs around his hips, urging him on.
“So did—I,” Utahime breathed, her voice skipping and hitching as Gojo thrust again, easing out, sliding in.
He did it once more, slowly withdrawing, slowly possessing. And again, his jaw tightening beneath her palm at another gradual movement, purposeful after all his quickness. Utahime clutched at him again, feeling deeply satisfied at the slow, intent roll of his body, his eyes roaming over her, watching, learning.
Gojo gasped softly, looking at her, fucking her, and he bent forward to kiss her again, his rhythm stuttering a little, becoming slightly harder. Utahime felt the resonance of it, a moan catching, and Gojo swore, pressing his lips to hers again, biting and licking.
She would come, Utahime realized, pushed by his earlier teasing and the slow, insistent drag of his cock now. She flushed again at the slick sound that echoed as Gojo fucked into her, pressing into his lips, another kiss. He moved his mouth to her throat, suckling, and she cried out, her legs tightening around his waist, close.
“Come on,” he urged softly.
His hand found hers, still cupping his face, and he pulled it away, slipping his fingers in between, his thumb over her ring.
Utahime trembled, her body contracting, and her eyes began the search, desperate until she found the blue. She only glimpsed them for an instant before pleasure broke, but it was enough, a sharp beauty amongst the gratification of orgasm, Gojo’s cock buried deep inside her.
Utahime said it once more, choking for the sudden wave of emotion that crashed through her, stinging and lovely.
“Satoru —“
Gojo murmured something too low for her to hear, and he fucked into her a little harder as her trembling eased, a little unintentional roughness in the roll of his hips. Utahime, overwrought but aching, shuddered as he reached the deepest part of her once more. She opened her eyes to the room around her and to the person in whose arms she was wrapped, another ache unfolding in her upon seeing him. His face was close to hers, and he blinked at her, a slow fall of thick white lashes as his body stilled, his smile slight and gentle before it faded. Utahime could see the glow of his eyes, more noticeable now as their room sank further into darkness, the sun at last set.
She felt a squeeze, something small but it made her body rock anyways, and she realized that Gojo still had his hand interlocked with hers, another joining. Utahime smiled at the feeling, losing herself in the visual of his face above hers.
Gojo’s eyebrows quirked, seeing her smile but not knowing the reason, and he thrust into her once more, his expression turning fierce when she gasped. He shook his hair out of his eyes, and lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice lined with steel.
“I made you come like this,” he said through his teeth, tipping his hips into hers, pressing deep again. “My cock inside you. Fucking you. And it’s still not—“
The world rushed, and Utahime saw a hint of the brightest blue shining through the darkness of the early night as Gojo flipped her onto her stomach. She felt the slide of the sheets, and then Gojo’s hands were on her thighs, pushing them apart so he might settle onto his knees between them.
A thrill shot through her, hitting the marrow of her bones, the sinew of her muscles, and Utahime twisted her head over her shoulder to see the shadow of him. She found his face, the glow of his eyes partially obscured by his hair as it fell over back his forehead, the white visible even in the dark. She could see his fist moving slowly over his cock, stroking himself again as he looked at her.
“It’s still not enough,” he muttered, thoughtful, and slid his free hand up her back, gathering her hair in his fingers.
Utahime knew, as she felt her desire for him rip through her again even now, when pleasure still curled faintly in her body, what he meant.
“No,” she agreed quietly. “But will it ever be?”
Gojo’s eyes glittered, the coldest of flames.
“No,” he whispered.
Weak.
Gojo’s hand tightened around her hair, and he laughed, hoarse and ragged, as he pushed back into her, sliding flush again.
“Fuck,” Utahime gasped, her hands grappling for purchase on the sheets, clutching.
She heard Gojo make his low sound of approval, agreement, and then she whimpered as he withdrew from her, nearly completely.
“Hime,” he murmured, strained. “Look at me.”
He loosened his hold slightly on her hair so she could turn her head over her shoulder again. The blue glow was bright, raw and rough as Gojo stared back at her. Something glimmered, and Utahime realized it was the bubble in her chest again, quivering at the look in his eyes.
“Look at me,” he breathed, as if she wasn’t already, as if her gaze had not always been drawn to him, even when he had glared so coldly back at her.
She thought she saw Gojo smile very quickly as he fucked back into her, his slowness gone. A groan rippled out of him, and he fell into a hard rhythm, exploring her body anew, giving himself over. He let go of her hair completely, both his hands encircling her hips as he thrust, the sheets rumpling beneath her stomach. Utahime cried out, pleased at his firm grip, at how he urged her hips up into his body. He slid his thumbs into the curve of her lower back, arching her further into him, pushing himself deeper and gasping at the satisfaction of it.
“Touch yourself,” he said roughly, fucking into her harder, losing his breath. “Hime—“
Utahime slid a hand between her legs and swore, oversensitive, close again to the edge. Close again, and pushed further by her fingers on her clit, the thrust of his cock. She felt it building, and squeezed her eyes shut this time, letting herself feel him as she came again—his hands that held her tightly as her body shook, his hips against her ass as he pressed himself deep again, gasping as she clutched at him. And then she felt all of him, his chest against her back, his lips near her cheek, hovering and not touching, lest he cause her pain.
A giddiness floated in her as she felt his movements turn harsher, rougher, realizing he was close. She reached blindly back for him, answering the question he had not yet asked, and sighed, relieved when her hand found his face, the curve of his cheekbone. He made a soft sound, surprised but gratified, and touched his mouth to her cheek, just above her scar.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. She felt the brush of his hair against the side of her face, and the ghost of his breath over her scar, gentle pleasure. And then his lips again, carefully placed, and Utahime leaned into the warmth of his mouth as he came, flooding into her, his satisfaction complete. His voice was broken, a blade snapped in two as he breathed her name, holding her close, surrounding her, filling her.
Together.
“Utahime,” he mumbled, sounding lost, his forehead against her hair.
Silence settled, stillness. Utahime felt very calm in the dark, her body sated, her mind like liquid, the length of Gojo’s body resting against hers. He slid out of her after a while, and Utahime huffed a complaint at his absence, making Gojo chuckle. He rolled them, and held her again, his body beneath hers now, his cum slipping out of her and onto her thighs, some of it landing on him, too.
Utahime, her cheek warm against Gojo’s chest, could hear the soft throb of his heartbeat. She slid her hand over him, searching, and nodded when Gojo threaded his fingers with hers. He squeezed them, and slid his other arm around her back, breathing a little quickly when Utahime curled her own arm around his neck, her thigh hitching over his hips.
She felt it again, the frightening, tremulous thing, a little knock against her ribs, a dance near her heart. Something gold and glimmering, twirling and undulating, pleased at being held by him, at the slow movement of his thumb over her ring, always seeking it out.
Gojo’s body stiffened against hers, and then slowly relaxed, tension melting.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Utahime whispered back, knowing what he meant.
Held, protected, and loved. That was what it was.
***
Gojo roused her in the morning, pulling her gently from another dream of the gardens by tracing his fingers over her scar, his Infinity thrumming. He brushed them over her again, pushing her hair off of her face, touching the tip of her nose.
He stared at her for a moment, and she at him, enjoying the way the bright light of the morning looked as it shone over his face. There was a tentative, hesitant softness in his eyes, something deeper than she had seen before.
Gojo blinked, his eyes softening further, and edged back from her, disentangling himself as he sat up, sliding out of bed. Utahime watched, her stomach fluttering, her body pleasantly sore from his fucking, as Gojo found his jeans on the floor, and dug something out of his pocket. He turned back to her, and the corners of his mouth tipped up, cautiously joyful.
“You did this to me,” he murmured, rueful but contented.
And he tossed it to her, his ring flipping over as it arced through the air, landing right in the middle of her chest. Utahime looked down at it, and saw all the reflections; the flowers on the ceiling, her own peaceful face, and a flash of blue as Gojo slipped back into bed with her, snuggling close. He held his hand out, his fingers splaying open, and smiled at her wide-eyed look of astonishment.
“Go on,” he said softly, and Utahime heard the hum of his Infinity fall into silence, a barrier dropped.
Her heart made a slow ascent to her throat, and Utahime felt the waves of his cursed energy as they rolled, tamed, for her. Ice crackled in his eyes, freezing, shifting, melting.
Her fingers slid slowly to her chest, finding the cool ring of metal, the thing that made him hers. She picked it up, and saw the emotions as they moved over Gojo’s face, internal conflict giving way to what he felt for her.
“Go on,” Gojo repeated, whispering. “Hime.”
Utahime looked at him, feeling like dancing as she found his finger, and slid the ring onto him, down and over his knuckle, all the way to the base.
Gojo made a sound in his throat, soft, low with meaning, and pulled his gaze from hers at last, his eyes moving to his hand. He considered it for a moment, turning his palm over, assessing it from different angles, all the things his eyes could see.
He smiled slowly, warmly, and looked back to her, his examination complete. And Utahime smiled back, the frightening, tremulous feeling returning. She felt the roughness of his fingers as he threaded them with hers, and heard the soft ping of metal, two rings tapping together.
Weak .
Utahime thought about it, only for an instant as she gazed back at him, seeing the softness in his eyes and feeling the thing for him that she knew was love.
But—no.
Strength in each other, strength in togetherness.
Gojo’s smile widened, so sharply beautiful. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, all five fingers.
And Utahime knew he felt the same.
***
Epilogue
She was walking through the gardens of the Gojo estate, and it was a spring day.
The sun had only just risen, a gentle, liquid light breaking over the horizon, awakening the birds, warming the earth. She wore her bells upon her wrists, and they jingled merrily as she walked, the grass soft beneath her feet.
She had dreamed of this once, on a night long ago.
A secret desire, to walk through the gardens with the one who was hers, to find the grove of wisteria so she might dance for him, so he might feel her strength.
They were deep in the gardens, lost amongst the hedges and the beauty of the flowers in full bloom, a warm breeze twirling around, catching the petals. Utahime laughed at it, feeling it on her skin, watching it blow over the top of Gojo’s head, mussing his hair. He laughed, too, and gripped her hand a little tighter, pulling her forward, past more hedges, through bushes beneath which small rabbits had made their home.
Gojo turned his head over his shoulder, looking at her as they walked. He had not worn his glasses on this day, and his eyes seemed as deep and fathomless as the sky above them, cold and blustering, but then warm and kind, deeply frozen, but then molten liquid. His grin was quick as he tugged her into his body, a small whoosh of air squeezing out of her lungs as she crashed into his chest. They fell, first towards the ground and then into a rushing darkness as his hands clasped behind her back, impatient to the last.
Utahime scowled as they landed, glaring at him with false annoyance, too thrilled by the abundance of purple that now surrounded them to be bothered by his quickness. She laughed again, her glare breaking, because here was the grove of which she had dreamed, and here was the person she had wanted to share it with, standing tall before her.
Gojo’s lips touched her nose, and his hand passed over the small, growing swell of her belly as he sank to the ground, his eyebrows cocking up, his smile teasing and sweet. He lay back, stretching his legs before him, his elbows lost amongst the blossoms.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.
Utahime closed her eyes, hearing the chirping of the birds, feeling the coolness of the breeze as it looped back around, sliding up her hakama, pulling at the ribbon in her hair. She sang softly, and began to feel the golden warmth of her cursed energy as it twined in her, mist filling the grove, mixing with the purple. She heard Gojo’s sigh, and a great calm began to settle in his wild ocean of energy, a storm soothed. She danced, something only for him, something that the greed-filled eyes of his relatives had never seen. Her bells rang as she moved, singing with the wind.
Her eyes opened again, meeting Gojo’s as he gazed back at her, the golden mist of her energy weaving into his eyelashes. He smiled with a joy that was usually hidden, his lips parting as she shared her strength with him, burrowing into his core as he stared into hers, love turning his eyes bright.
A laugh, soft and sweet as the flowers that surrounded them, sounded out of her once more.
She had dreamed of this once, long ago.
***
I love you all, sweet fanfic friends