Work Text:
Suguru didn’t expect to stay at this house party very long. He barely knew anyone here, but, hey, at least the hosts had either enough money or stupidity — probably both, honestly — to have free-flowing booze. Christ, he thought as he grabbed a drink from the kitchen, three weeks since he got dumped and this was still how he was planning nights out? Where to get trashed for free? Fucking depressing.
He hadn’t taken two steps back into the living room before someone accidentally-on-purpose slammed their shoulder into his, sloshing some of the drink onto his shirt.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” He turned and saw who had done it, though he probably could’ve guessed even without looking. The bane of his life — Satoru Gojo, prodigy physics major, darling of the basketball team, and professional douchebag. And, of course, because the universe always plays favorites, stupidly hot.
“Suck my dick, Suguru,” he tossed back, with an obnoxiously casual air. For years, he’d seemed to delight in using every stereotypical tactic to torment Suguru. It was honestly childish. Always ready with an insulting comment. Constantly knocking books out of his arms or coming up from behind to smack the back of his head. It had always been dumb things like that, ever since they were in middle school. It was like whenever he saw Suguru he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself, like— almost like that old cliché of a little kid who doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he likes a girl, so he pulls her hair and pushes her into mud puddles. He supposed it really wasn’t that far-fetched to think a college frat boy might still be stuck at that same level of emotional maturity. This could be an interesting experiment.
“Sure,” he replied.
Satoru turned back with a harsh laugh. “What?”
“I said sure,” he reiterated, abandoning his drink on the nearest flat surface. He grabbed Satoru by the wrist, weaving through the mingling crowd toward the stairs. Thank god there were enough people drinking, dancing, talking that nobody seemed to pay any attention.
“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru asked with another confused laugh as he was practically drug up the stairs.
“Just doing what you told me to,” Suguru replied. The first door he opened was some sort of rec room, so he went to the second door down the hallway. It looked like a guest bedroom. Jackpot. “And you told me to suck your dick.”
Satoru let out a surprised noise that sounded half like a laugh, half like a choked cough. “Uh, even if I was flattered by the emo freak crushing on me, I’m not gay.”
“Does that really matter right now?” Suguru locked the door behind them, pressing Satoru up against it. “Do you want your dick sucked or not?” He palmed at the bulge in Satoru’s pants.
“I, uh... heh, won’t Criss Angel get jealous?” His moronic nickname for Suguru’s now-ex-boyfriend, whenever he’d seen the two of them together around campus.
“I’d actually love to make my bastard ex jealous,” Suguru said, undoing the fly of Satoru’s pants and slipping his fingers past the waistband. Pressing lightly over his boxers, he could feel him already beginning to harden.
“This is so fucked...” Satoru breathed out, almost inaudibly.
Suguru pulled his hand away, looking intently into Satoru’s too-blue eyes. “Is that a no, then?”
“No— shit,” Satoru said quickly, trying to pull his bravado back intact, “Why don’t you just, uh, get on with it, if you want my dick so bad. So desperate you can’t keep your hands off me.”
Wasting no time, Suguru sank to his knees and pulled down the front of Satoru’s pants just enough to free his half-hard length. He wrapped a hand around it and began stroking lazily while internally cursing him. Of course he was big. Why wouldn’t he be? Why would the universe deign to humble the great Satoru Gojo in any way? God’s favorite fucking princess, who got the world delivered to him on a silver platter.
Suguru took the first couple inches into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip. Satoru groaned. Suguru bobbed his head slowly, taking him deeper with each downstroke. If no one else was going to do it, maybe it was up to him to be the one to put Satoru in his place for once in his life. Satoru had been giving him nonstop shit since middle school, surely Suguru had earned the right to dispense just a little comeuppance. He couldn’t help but think, attractive as Satoru was, he’d probably look even better with his cocky attitude thoroughly fucked out.
He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand pressing down on his head. Suguru pulled brusquely off of Satoru, pushing his hand away and glaring up at him. “Don’t touch me.”
“Where the fuck else am I supposed to put my hands?”
“Don’t care, as long as it’s not on me.”
“Is that like a kink thing? Ugh, whatever, fine. Just keep going.”
Suguru stood back up. “Take off your clothes and sit on the bed.” Since it was clear nothing was going to continue until he did, Satoru did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the bed with a sigh of exasperation.
Suguru knelt between his legs and picked up right where he left off, mouth and hands working in tandem. Once Satoru’s hips began to buck slightly, he pulled his mouth away with a pop, drawing a hand up to brush his thumb teasingly back and forth over the head.
“Ugh, what now?” Satoru complained, “I didn’t even touch you.”
“I’m going to take a wild guess — you’ve never had anything inside you?”
“What?”
“Any girl ever stuck a finger in while she was down here?”
“God, no! No, never.”
“Is it okay if I do?” Suguru asked, wrapping his lips around the head of Satoru’s cock again, replacing the teasing of his thumb with his tongue.
“Fuck... I don’t... ngh...”
“You can try my tongue first,” Suguru offered, licking a broad stripe up his shaft, base to tip.
“I don’t know why you wanna eat someone’s asshole, fuckin’ weirdo, but— mmm... you do you, dude.”
Taking that as a “yes,” Suguru instructed Satoru to lay back and spread his legs further. Keeping one hand softly stroking up and down, he turned his attention to the small ring of puckered skin.
It felt like Satoru’s whole body tensed at the first contact. Unperturbed, Suguru carried on, dragging his tongue up and down, side to side, spiraling in little circles. When he formed a seal with his lips and hollowed his cheeks, Satoru, who seemed to have been trying his best not to make noise, let out a sharp gasp. Suguru chose that moment to tease the tip of his tongue into the opening, working it deeper bit by bit, continuing to hollow his cheeks in an unpredictable rhythm.
When he eventually pulled his mouth away, he felt Satoru’s dick twitch in his hand, heard him fail to stifle a whine. He stuck a few fingers of his free hand into his own mouth, thoroughly coating them with saliva.
He eased a finger inside, waiting a moment before starting to slowly move it back and forth. Small gasping grunts rasped from Satoru’s throat. A second finger, testing how he’d handle being stretched, then a third, thrusting firmly. Suguru curled his fingers slightly, feeling around for— ah, there it was.
“Oh, fuck!” Satoru was so loud it seemed he’d even shocked himself, throwing a hand up to cover his own mouth.
“Too much?” Suguru asked, like a man proud of his work, sliding his fingers out. Satoru didn’t really answer, just made a moan-like humming sound against his palm that could have conceivably meant literally anything. “Do you think you could use your words?”
His voice came out a needy whine. “Don’t stop— fuck... more.”
“You want me to fuck you more? I suppose I can do that. But first, sit up,” Suguru instructed, stepping away and finally removing his own clothes.
“Suguru,” Satoru groaned, elongating each vowel in his name, “You can’t leave a guy hanging like that!”
“If you want to finish, I want you to put in a little work for it.”
“Ugh, why are you being such an asshole?”
“Do you always whine this much?”
“I’m not fucking whining — shut up!”
Suguru stood in front of him. “Look, I won’t even make you get on your knees, you can sit right there. So why don’t you shut up and put that mouth to work?”
Satoru’s movements were extremely tentative, like he was trying to pet a feral cat and didn’t know how it might react.
“You don’t need to be scared,” Suguru teased, “I promise it’s not going to bite.”
“Oh my god, would you stop— just shut up and let me focus.”
Here was finally an area in which the universe humbled Satoru Gojo — though unfortunately it was currently at Suguru’s expense. Easily the worst blowjob of his life. The oral equivalent of a newborn foal’s first steps. Awkward, disjointed, uncoordinated. Falling down and trying to stand back up, only to stumble and fall again. At least it wasn’t like he was trying to bite his dick off or anything but still, that was a very low bar to only barely be clearing.
“I can’t believe I finally found something you’re not a natural talent at. This is just... I’m embarrassed for you. I mean, I even gave you a pretty good demonstration you could’ve learned from.”
“Screw you! I— I bet you can’t sink three-pointers. I’d rather be good at that than sucking dick.”
“But, y’know, one of those skills is more likely to actually get someone to fuck you. And it’s definitely not basketball.”
Even when Suguru tried to offer direct guidance, Satoru did not seem to be very good at taking notes. Suguru liked to think he had a good amount of patience for sexual inexperience. Nothing wrong with being a beginner, amateur technique could even be charming in its own way. But this was simply on another level.
“So are you doing this on purpose or are you just genuinely this bad at giving head? Either way... wow.” It would have been literally impossible to cum from this barely-a-blowjob, but luckily that was not Suguru’s goal. Satoru had at least managed to get him fully hard. “Okay, good enough. I can’t sit through any more of this, honestly. Let’s get back to you.” Satoru was still hard himself, looking almost painfully so. Had he been enjoying the insults, the degredation? Interesting. Suguru gestured toward the bed. “Face down, ass up.”
“The hell did you just say to me?”
“Four single syllable words? I really don’t know how I could dumb it down any more.” His voice took on a mocking tone, “‘Yo, bro, lemme hit it doggy style?’”
“First, gross. Second, why the fuck would I do that?”
“I mean, it’s cool, I’m fine stopping here if you are. Not gonna force anything on you – I’m not a total asshole. I’m just letting you know what I’m willing to do here.”
Satoru fell back against the bed, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. Suguru sat down next to him, beginning to run a hand excruciatingly slowly up and down Satoru’s cock. “Okay, fine,” he said suddenly, “But I’ve got one condition.” He put his hands down and made eye contact with Suguru. “I’m sick of the start-and-stop bullshit. You keep going until I cum.”
“Works for me.”
Satoru was soon on all fours, forearms resting on the bed, hands clasped together, forehead resting on his hands. Suguru was kneeling behind him on the bed, working him with his fingers again, trying to make sure he was ready. He hadn’t expected a hookup at this party, so had to make do with only his own spit to help things move smoothly. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Even if he hated the guy, it wasn’t like he wanted to hurt him. Just make him feel vulnerable for once. And, okay, maybe humiliate him a little bit while he was at it.
“Remember, you can tap out if you need to, dollface” he said, pulling out his fingers and dragging the head of his cock over Satoru’s entrance.
“Fuck you, I’ve never tapped out of anything in my life. Don’t plan on breaking that streak for—”
The sound he made when Suguru pressed into him was absolutely sinful. Since he seemed determined not to make another sound after that, Suguru tried to pay careful attention to his body language for any sign he should stop. But, true to Satoru’s word, none came and Suguru kept pushing slowly in until he bottomed out.
“Look at you, arching your back like that, taking it like such a good boy for me.”
“Keep talking like that and I kick you in the balls,” Satoru warned through gritted teeth, though the threat didn’t seem so threatening when accompanied by a shuddering moan.
“Kind of sending mixed signals,” Suguru teased. He stayed still just a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of how tightly he was wrapped around him. “You doing okay down there?”
“Yeah, I— ngh, can barely feel your limp-ass dick.”
“Oh, okay, so it won't bother you if I start moving now.”
“Knock yourself ou—” He cut himself off with a groan as Suguru began with short, easy thrusts. Slowly ramping up the pace and intensity, he could see Satoru start coming apart underneath him. Eventually it seemed like he gave up on trying to keep quiet. Each sound he made was louder and more animalistic than the last. The music downstairs was loud enough that Suguru could hear the bass thumping up through the floor, so it wasn’t likely anyone who wasn’t walking right past the bedroom door would hear. Still, it sounded like Satoru was determined to prove he could be louder than the stereo system. With a hand between his shoulder blades, Suguru pushed Satoru down against the bed.
“You know, if you can’t keep your voice down, the whole party’s gonna hear you.” Suguru leaned in close to his ear. “Or is that what you want? Should we let everyone here know you’re getting fucked like some cheap whore by that emo freak goth guy?”
Satoru’s only response was a guttural moan.
“What, you don’t have anything to say now?” Harder. “Did my ‘limp-ass dick’ really do this to you?” Faster. “Pound you into such a mess you can’t even talk?” Deeper. “What would all those people downstairs think if they saw you like this?”
One side of Satoru’s face was pressed into the mattress. Suguru could see his mouth was hanging open, gasping and moaning, drool puddling on the blanket under him. He was so tight and warm, and Suguru could feel himself getting close.
“Hey, focus up here,” he said, reaching down to tug at Satoru’s hair, earning a groan in response, “Where do you want me to finish?”
But it seemed Satoru could barely put a word together, let alone a phrase or sentence. His moans were vaguely resembling syllables, but didn’t fit together into anything coherent.
Begrudgingly, Suguru slowed his pace. “Do you have any thoughts left in that head, or did I fuck them all out? Come on, we don’t have all night. Where do you want me?” At last some intelligible words came out.
“I don’t... oh, fuck... if you... ngh... just keep going...”
“You want me to stay inside?” he asked, picking up the tempo again, "Sure you can handle that? You seem pretty wrecked already, princess."
Some stammered noises that sounded affirmative.
Suguru could hardly believe what was happening. For all those years of idiotic torment to culminate in this. For Satoru Gojo, golden child of the world, to be a drooling, babbling mess, coming totally undone around his cock. Fuck, it was almost too much. He wouldn’t last much longer, but he didn’t want to finish first.
Suguru reached down to wrap a hand around Satoru’s neglected cock. It was leaking obscenely. He tried to match the rhythm of his hand with the pace of his thrusts, but was getting a little sloppy as he approached his own climax.
“Don't make me wait for you now. Come on, you can do it,” Suguru urged, his voice getting softer as he leaned down close to Satoru’s ear again, “Cum for me, Satoru.”
Maybe he was narcissistic enough that it was just the sound of his own name, or maybe it was the soft purr Suguru said it with, but that did him in. And the way his whole body tensed and convulsed finished Suguru off very shortly after. He gripped Satoru’s hips tight, riding out this high as long as he could. Eventually he slowed to a stop and pulled out with a heavy exhale. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been left with such a complete sense of satisfaction afterwards.
As soon as Suguru’s hold on his hips loosened, Satoru flopped flat onto his stomach as if his bones were jellied. Suguru moved up to lay on his side next to him, propped up on an elbow, admiring the view while he caught his breath.
Because he’d been right. This was a good look for Satoru. Slack-jawed, breaths stuttering and heavy. Lips red and swollen, glistening with his own saliva. Cheeks flushed. Eyes half-lidded and glazed over. And the crowning jewel? Those beautiful crystalline tears that clung to his eyelashes and streaked down his face.
“Aw, you crying? It’s okay, kitten.” Suguru smirked and brought his free hand up to swipe his thumb gently across Satoru’s cheek, brushing away a few of the tears. “Look on the bright side — at least you know your pussy’s better than your mouth.”
“Fug you, don’ look at me,” Satoru mumbled, his words half buried in the mattress as he turned his head to face away from Suguru.
“But you look so pretty like this.” It came out like he was teasing, but he did really mean it. Despite himself, he had a sudden desire to run his hands through Satoru’s hair, or rub his back, or something. But he was almost sure Satoru wouldn’t be down for that kind of... tenderness. There certainly hadn’t been any sort of romance in what they’d just done. They hadn’t even kissed.
The more Suguru thought about what had just happened, the more he realized he really had not thought this through at all. Beyond having to clean up the mess they’d made of the bed and each other, what the hell do you do after hooking up with the (allegedly straight) guy who’s been dedicated to making your life worse for almost a decade? A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as he listened to Satoru’s breathing become slower and steadier. What was he thinking about right now?
Suguru wasn’t sure how much time passed in that relative silence before Satoru mumbled something that sounded like a question.
“I can’t understand you when you talk into the mattress.”
“Phone number — d’you wan’ it?” he asked, still half-muffled, a little slurred. He sounded utterly exhausted.
“Why would I want your number?”
“I’unno, cuz if I suck at suggin’ dick maybe I jus’ gotta practice more?”
“And you want me to help you practice?” Suguru was a little taken aback. This was definitely not where he’d been expecting things to go. Satoru's brain had clearly been fucked entirely out if he thought Suguru would ever actually call him. Why would he willingly spend more time with this douchebag? “Um... yeah, maybe we could do that sometime, sure. I’ll, uh, give you my number too?” God damn this man for being beautiful. It was clouding Suguru’s judgment.
“I’unno where m’phone is.”
Somewhere in the heap of clothes on the floor, presumably. “Why don’t we just sit for a bit longer and then we can trade numbers?”
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed in agreement.
“Hey, would it be okay if, um... if I rubbed your back a little?” God, how was it possible to fuck someone senseless and then be embarrassed to offer them a backrub?
“Dude, you jus’ nutted in me, d’y’think I give a shit?”
“No, I guess not.” Suguru put his hand on Satoru’s lower back, rubbing in small, gentle circles. The tension in his muscles was palpable. Suguru applied firmer pressure, trying to help alleviate at least a little of the inevitable soreness. A groaning sigh rumbled from Satoru’s throat as those tight muscles started to relax under his hand. It didn't make any sense. He didn't like Satoru. So why did he not want to stop touching him, stop feeling the heat radiating off him?
A minute or so later, Suguru spoke again, without stopping the slow movement of his hand. “So... I wasn’t gonna say anything, but if we’re going to do this again, I feel like I should let you know — your pillow talk is almost as bad as your head.”
The only response was deep, even breathing punctuated by soft snores.
“Alright,” Suguru said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “We can talk about it later.”