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This was insane, asinine even. How could Yaga do this to Nanami, making him work on his birthday of all days? Birthdays deserve to be savored, like a delicious piece of chocolate as it melts in your mouth. Not spent in a stuffy office entombed by papers because a certain drunkard accused the school of embezzling funds. The claim could have been dismissed easily if the elders had just boosted the budget for cloud storage, sparing Nanami and a few forests; but leave it to the higher-ups to have no conscience, not even for the trees.
Gojo flops onto the plush couch in the center of their living room and smashes his face into the seat cushions. Today was supposed to be perfect. He would surprise Nanami with pancakes in bed, served with heaps of syrup and kisses. Then they would tour the new art exhibit at the museum. After that, he would treat Nanami to a private dinner at his favorite restaurant, paired with the best sake money can buy. Finally, as the evening wore down and they returned home, Gojo would take him to bed and suck him down like a lollipop. Taste the cum on his tongue and swallow every last drop before riding that monster until dawn. There would be no skin left unblemished, no lips left unloved, their bodies constantly connected even as they fell asleep, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms…
The thought alone already has Gojo’s pussy throbbing. He tilts his head, catching a whiff of Nanami’s cologne on the pillows. His fingers slowly sneak down toward his mound, but as he feels the teasing pressure over his sweats he yanks his hand away. This is no time for distractions. After all, today isn’t about him. It’s about his poor lover who left home before sunrise, dawning the same solemn expression from his salaryman days. Now reinvisioned with a disheveled seven:three part and the slightest trace of scruff on his chin. Evidence that their new lax life post-Shibuya had finally become their norm. Gojo smiles fondly as he thinks of Nanami swaying in the genkan with his briefcase in one hand and a coffee sloshing in the other. It was as adorable as it was heartbreaking. Poor, sweet Ken. Gojo scrunches his nose. He was so groggy that all Gojo could think to do was kiss Nanami goodbye. He didn’t even get to say ‘Happy Birthday’!
Gojo flips onto his back and pouts, his party hat cutting into the dimples of his cheeks. There has to be something he can do to salvage this special day. He fiddles with the elastic band of his hat before slipping the cone off his head. Since he’s stuck reviewing decades of paperwork, Nanami could be gone all night, so a surprise party is definitely out of the question. The birthday dinner is also a no-go. Gojo brow furrows as he aims his hat toward the ceiling. Bakeries need at least a day’s notice, so it’s too late to order a cake. Baking it himself is an option, but what good is a homemade cake if not fresh? Not that Nanami would mind, but this occasion deserves something more. This is the first time they can celebrate Nanami’s birthday together, as a couple living under one roof. A dream come true in their model retirement post-Shibuya, and a huge milestone in their relationship. So whatever he does, it needs to be special, and it needs to happen today! He pulls on the elastic string, stretching it as far as it will go until he releases it with a snap, shooting the cone upward. Red and blue cast shimmering spirals as the cone spins in the air before dropping onto the coffee table. Its momentum being the final straw on an overstuffed bag, teetering on the glass surface before spilling its contents. Gift wrap and party supplies dump everywhere, creating a makeshift ramp where spools of ribbon roll down. They bump against each other as they fly off their cellophane track and onto the white carpet, finally halting at the base of the couch. Gojo sighs, snatching up one of the spools, but is diverted when the ribbon reflects the midday sun. Its red silken fabric shimmers elegantly, giving depth to its translucent layers and appearing iridescent. He moves to uncoil the spool and gasps when his fingers pinch the edge, finding it surprisingly soft to touch. It's beautiful. Too luxurious to be a ribbon. It's better served as a textile for an expensive dress, or maybe something else. Suddenly a spark. Gojo’s eyes shine bright as his lips curl. Swiftly he pushes himself upright, snatching up all the spools and unraveling them as small giggles echo through the house
If Nanami can’t enjoy his birthday here, Gojo decides, then he’ll just have to bring the party to him.
“I need the expenditures from the Naha mission.”
“For which sorcerers and dates?”
“Tsukumo Yuki and Itadori Choso, January 4th to February 26th.”
Nanami rubs his eyes as he hunches over the laptop. The lines of his spreadsheet begin to blur as he reaches the ninth hour of overtime. His eyebrows twitch as Yaga’s microphone peaks.
“Do you have it?”
“Yes,” His tone is vacant. “I’ve cataloged every mission since Shibuya. I’m sharing my screen right now. The dates are highlighted in yellow.”
“All right, let me-” The video freezes on Yaga’s nose and Nanami sighs. The ‘poor connection’ pop-up makes its debut for the eighteenth time. After a few minutes Yaga’s picture intermittently changes, still zoomed in too close to his face. Suddenly, static booms through the office. “Kyoto’s wifi is crap.”
It's the last sensible thing Yaga says before his audio starts clipping, transforming their video conference into a verbal guessing game. Nanami rakes his hands through his hair. Reliving his strife as a salaryman was not on his agenda today, but between Yaga’s poorly-timed conference and Ijichi’s fret from Naobito’s harassment, there’s no one better–or available–to do the job.
Still, deciphering Yaga’s audio remains a struggle, and consumes so much of his attention that he does not hear when the office door creaks. Nor the soft footsteps padding towards him. It’s only when he catches a tall shadow looming in his peripheral does he finally look up. Twinkling blue eyes shine down upon him and Nanami exhales a heavy breath, slumping his shoulders. He basks in Gojo’s gaze, savoring the mischievous smile that accompanies those skylight eyes. Eyes that melt away all his tension and replace it with the urge to drag his beanstalk boyfriend into his lap. However, the thought is interrupted as he takes stock of Gojo’s current appearance.
He’s bundled up in one of their large throw blankets. So wide that even on Gojo it drags against the floor. It’s wrapped tightly around his face like a babushka, hiding his hair and putting his big forehead on full display. Nanami yearns to kiss it. Gojo leers at him, cerulean whirlpools luring beneath white lashes, and he has to turn away before he drowns in them. In his escape he sees that Yaga is now entirely frozen on the screen with his mute button active. He turns back toward his lover and cups one hand over his face, concealing his jaw from the camera.
What are you doing? He mouths.
Gojo stifles a laugh. “I came to give you your present.” He whispers. Nanami quirks a brow. He takes another glance at his lover’s appearance, noting that if there was a present it would undoubtedly be seen through his silhouette. Also, as much as he delights in Gojo’s surprise appearances, there’s no reason to bring him his present now. If it was perishable or time-sensitive, he’d understand. However, Gojo looks like he just warped here from a nap. He’s even missing his shoes. Surely it can’t be anything-
Gojo releases the blanket, freeing his hair as it slides down his shoulders and onto the floor, shutting down every thought in Nanami’s head with a thump.
Gojo smirks and strikes a pose, relishing in how Nanami’s eyes roam his entire body. He combs his hands through his hair, sighing as his palms graze the ribbon choker around his neck. He traces the strands that extend over his clavicles like a halter top, hugging his chest as they curl around his torso. His fingers travel lower, feeling the ribbon transverse across his abdomen repeatedly, until the two lines merge at the pinnacle of his thighs, resting taut between them like the thinnest lingerie, and secured only by a bow in the back.
“Nanami!”
Nanami jumps out of his seat, knocking his knees underneath the desk and Gojo stifles a laugh. The blonde scowls as he concentrates on the laptop, croaking a harsh ‘yes’ while rubbing a hand down his face. He quickly straightens himself, returning to his stoic demeanor as Yaga briefs him on the conference. On camera he looks every bit of the dependable worker that he is. However, the cameras can’t see what Gojo can, and between Nanami’s rigid posture, ruddy cheeks, and the bead of sweat rolling down his neck, Gojo knows he’s struggling to keep his composure. Mischief paints his grin devilish as he bites his lip.
While Yaga drones on, Gojo gracefully moves behind the laptop, watching as Nanami adjusts his tie, eyes wearily flickering between him and the screen. He clenches his jaw as Gojo leans over the desk, hovering just barely above the camera, blue light bouncing off his eyes and drawing attention to his salacious smile. Slowly, Gojo rubs his hands over his thighs, smoothing over his firm buttocks. He teases the ribbon as his hands slither up his ribcage before cupping his chest. He fondles his pecs, massaging and squeezing, his breath hitching as he teases a nipple. He presses the flesh together, having enough muscle to make for some pretty sizable cleavage, and he bounces them to prove the point. He glances back at Nanami and savors how the blonde crumbles before his eyes. His heated blush has risen to his ears, melting his hazel irises into honey-rimmed pools of onyx. His nostrils flare as he bores holes into Gojo’s chest, tongue darting out to lick his lips before finally dragging his gaze up to Gojo’s face. Once their eyes meet, Gojo languidly opens his mouth and rolls out his tongue, pressing two fingers against the palette. He closes his eyes and guides his fingers to his lips, soaking them in saliva as he weaves the appendage between the digits, tugging them out of his mouth only to catch on his bottom lip and pull them back in. Gojo reopens his eyes and embraces the heat of Nanami’s gaze, unrelenting as it washes over him like molten lava, slow and inescapable, painting Gojo’s cheeks pink as it sears every nerve in his body, pooling right down to his groin as a whine flees his lips.
“What was that?” Yaga cuts in, but his words disintegrate like tiny meteors, unable to push through their smoldering atmosphere.
“Static.” Nanami retorts, voice strained as his nails dig into the wooden armrests of his chair.
“Damn bandwidth,” Yaga chides, “Looks like we’re reaching our limit.”
Nanami hums in agreement, nodding slowly as he keeps his eyes trained on Gojo, and Gojo fights the urge to touch himself. Instead, he focuses on his current task: drenching his fingers and fondling his chest. However, as Nanami’s gaze holds him hostage, he’s quickly encumbered by his own teasing. He feels his pussy throb, wetness soaking into the fabric as his muscles clench, aching for the shape of his lover. It swelters him with impatience as he inherently fidgets, causing his thighs to rub together, jerking the taut ribbon against his clit and he bites back a moan. He hears Nanami groan in his place. Gojo peers once more into eclipsed irises and finds Nanami stalking his every move as he sits rigid, muscles flexing in his chair as if he’s chained to it. He follows Gojo’s fingers as he releases them from his lips, trailing them down his chin and over his Adam’s apple before carving through the divide of his chest. He then squeezes his pecs together, digits toying with the budding nubs as he whispers.
“Come fuck my tits, Ken.”
“Fuck.” Nanami bites out, grip splintering the wood. Gojo grins wildly.
“You alright, Nanami?” Yaga asks.
Nanami’s mouth opens and closes it, remaining wordless as he blinks a few times. However, his eyes never leave Gojo’s chest, and Gojo can hear the gears turning in that beautiful blonde head, mind and body at odds; but Gojo knows his lover. He’s so close to giving in. He just needs one more crack in that stone wall to make it shatter. That one final push. Gojo points his fingers upwards, sending those dark lust-ridden eyes up towards his own as he drops his voice low, saturating his tone in a thick syrupy sweetness.
“Your present is waiting, Kenny. Come use me.”
Nanami groans.
“Was that Gojo?”
Nanami shakes his head, bringing a hand over his face.
“I-uh, need to go.”
“Nanami what-”
“Urgent.”
Nanami deafens the call and lunges from his seat, swerving around the desk before smashing their lips together. He swallows down Gojo’s laughter, churning it into moans with the brush of his tongue. Suddenly, Gojo feels hands everywhere. Calloused palms groping and massaging, eliciting goosebumps where fingertips slip beneath the ribbon, drawing lines across his porcelain skin.
“You really do this yourself, Satoru?” Nanami’s voice is heady as it rumbles against his ear, tickling the shell with his breath. “All this just for me?” He wraps his arms around Nanami’s neck, relishing in the closeness of their bodies despite the clothes in between.
“It's your birthday, Ken.” He peppers kisses along Nanami’s cheek, “and I’m the best present money can’t buy.” He laughs sparsely, but it’s cut into a gasp when Nanami begins sucking hard at his neck. Gojo’s leg twitches, slipping in between Nanami’s own and he feels the massive hard-on straining in his slacks. He presses his knee against the length, causing Nanami to buck his hips, and he smirks as Nanami kisses the corners of his mouth. “I see there’s a present for me, too.” He uses his knee to tease Nanami’s girth, feeling his lover grind against it as their kisses grow deliciously sloppy. After a while Gojo pulls back and despite him still catching his breath Nanami subconsciously chases his lips. Gojo grins at the sight. “You know…” He drawls, pushing his knee harder against his lover’s groin. The latter gasps. “We really shouldn’t let these presents go to waste.”
Nanami narrows his eyes, brow furrowing as he attempts a curt nod. “That- I agree.”
Cheeks flushed and hair sticking from all ends, Gojo can’t help but snicker at the disheveled appearance of his boyfriend. “Great!” He gives Nanami a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll warp us home then-”
“Forgive me, Ijichi.”
“What?”
Papers fly through the air as strong hands grab his waist, spinning him around and upside down, legs flailing as his back comes into contact with the cool smooth surface of the desk. The position tugs at the ribbon, grinding it against his clit and Gojo gasps, tossing his head back. He reflexively closes his legs together, only to be blocked by Nanami’s waist as he slots himself in between. Nanami braces one hand against the desk, leering from above as his other moves across Gojo's body. His fingers ghosting along his chest, leaving shivers and causing Gojo’s abs to flutter as his hand wanders lower.
“So sensitive.”
Gojo shudders as he feels Nanami fingers glide against his folds. The blunt edge of his thumb encircles his clit over the ribbon, stuttering his hips. He keeps his arms locked around Nanami’s neck as the blonde continues to orbit his finger around the hood, caressing the labia before massaging the nub. The mix of calloused hands and satin cloth has him grinding into the textures, his folds swollen with arousal. Nanami expels a gravelly laugh which sends a shiver down his spine as he tightens his legs around him, whining at the slow pace of their pleasure. He turns his head to complain but his mouth is quickly devoured. Every hitched breath is stolen from his throat as Nanami continues to fondle him.
“Did you bring any lube?”
The words brush against his lips, but it takes Nanami pausing his movements entirely to really register what’s been asked.
“What-” Gojo huffs as he attempts to grind against Nanami’s still hand. “No, I didn’t think you’d be this horny.”
Nanami scowls. Gojo smiles back, wiggling his eyebrows. Somehow Nanami’s cheek burns brighter.
“Come on, birthday boy,” Gojo taps his shoulder as he bounces on the desk. “No time to waste, remember? Let’s keep going-” A brass nameplate suddenly falls off the edge, catching Gojo’s eye. “Wait, is this Ijichi’s desk? Is he here, too?”
Nanami snorts, pressing kisses along his clavicle. “He accompanied Ino on a mission. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Gojo’s swallows. “What about Nitta?”
“She’s on Zenin duty. Naobito keeps calling every twenty minutes. I told her to take an extended lunch break.”
He laughs, planting a smooch on Nanami’s cheek. “Look at you, encouraging others to slack off. I bet the students love having you as a teacher now.”
Nanami rolls his eyes. “I’m a firm believer in that the amount of effort you put in something should equate to what the task is worth. Naobito’s complaints deserve minimal attention. You on the other hand deserve all of it.”
The clear conviction in his eyes, even through his lustful gaze, turns Gojo’s face tomato red. He swallows. “So when will she be back?”
“Unsure.” Nanami trails as he looks to the side. “She could be back in two hours, or in two minutes.” His eyes flicker back to Gojo. “She could even be at that door right now.”
Gojo knows it's false. Her cursed energy isn’t anywhere near the campus; but the implication, and the visual imagery that accompanies it, has Gojo’s heartbeat racing while he squirms in place, eyeing the door.
“What’s on your mind, Satoru?” He whispers gently as he lays Gojo on the desk, untangling himself from his lover’s muscular arms. “Are you worried someone will find us?” He feels Nanami slide down his torso as he keeps his eyes on the door, biting his lip . “Someone could open that door and find you all wrapped up, splayed out and dripping on the desk like an absolute whore.” Gojo keens at the words as he grinds harder against Nanami’s palm. “Utterly exposed.” Nanami’s fingers rejoin the fray while he softly kisses down his chest, retracing the patterns of his hands before. Gojo wants to add to it, his mind already high on the thought of the office door swinging open. After all he never locked it; but his words come out as gibberish as Nanami latches onto a nipple. Tongue teasing the bud over the fabric, while he rolls the other one between two fingers. Gojo bucks, thighs spasming as Nanami’s other hand slips a finger inside him and curls, messaging his clit from inside. He feels Nanami blooming bruises across his skin while his other hand glides down to his thighs, coaxing them open. His finger sinks further into his canal and Gojo cants, desperate for more. Cruelly, Nanami pulls out, and Gojo wants to cry. The agonizing pace is a delicate torture. His body feels so hyper aware. The gentle teases made worse with the interwoven textures of calloused and silk. At this point Nanami could blow on his skin and he would probably come. Still, he needs more.
As if on cue, a puff of air blows against his folds, startling him. He peeks over his torso, finding Nanami at eye-level with his crotch while his face is bracketed between Gojo’s thighs as they drape over his shoulders.
“So wet.” Nanami mumbles against the heated flesh, spreading tingles throughout Gojo’s body as he pulls back on the ribbon and presses his palette flat against the labia, licking a stripe from base to clit. Gojo yelps, nearly crushing Nanami between his knees. However, strong arms wrap around his thighs, grounding his hands on Gojo’s hips and firmly locking him in place. He dances his tongue in figure eights, teasing the flesh with featherlight kisses before becoming rougher. It’s then that Gojo suddenly senses a presence outside campus and his eyes dart toward the door. Their cursed energy is faint, not strong enough to classify as a sorcerer. Auxiliary manager at best. Adrenaline thumbs through his veins as he bucks against Nanami’s mouth, feeling his nose bump his clit as he practically makes out with his vulva. He wonders if it’s Nitta or Ijichi finally coming back to the office. He tries to concentrate so he can identify the energy.
“Pay attention darling.”
All six eyes short circuit when Nanami suddenly thrusts his tongue into him. He massages his inner walls relentlessly, tongue stretching far beyond where his fingers would tease, and Gojo thrashes, back arching off the desk as his hands desperately try to find purchase; knocking off more papers and pens until his palms finally settle on blond locks. He twists his wrist, pulling a moan from Nanami that vibrates deep within him, simmering his thoughts down to a flurry of yes’s and pleas. In the back of his mind he can still sense the presence coming closer, now entering the building. He should say something, but Nanami's persistent assault on his pussy has his priorities elsewhere, too busy shouting prayers in his lover's name as the blonde shows off his skills in precision. His tongue is methodical, diabolical as he swirls it around the rim of the canal, dragging it in and out, pressing it firmly against the muscles each time, sucking at his own languid pace, and constantly teetering Gojo toward the edge. Suddenly he can feel it. The presence is now in the hall. He tries to tell Nanami, but his tongue is its own cursed weapon, hitting critical strikes against his g-spot, jumbling his words. He gets louder, moans replacing vowels as Nanami moves faster, slurping enthusiastically, and when he hears the brass doorknob turn and the door creak does he scream Nanami’s name, squirting all over his face. The door abruptly slams shut and Gojo lulls against the desk, feeling the presence scurry down the hall as he catches his breath.
“Did we get caught?”
He peers down and watches Nanami steadily rise to his feet, licking the juices from his chin. His face is stern but his eyes carry a mischievous glint much too similar to his own.
“Oh?” Gojo smiles lazily. “Is my boyfriend a sadist now? Since when?”
“Since I started dating you.”
Gojo dispels a laugh as he gazes amorously at his lover, catching the small smirk he conceals behind his hand. His blue dress shirt is now decorated with wrinkles around the shoulders, accentuated by his unbuttoned collar, exposing the broad expanse of Nanami’s chest. Below, his belt is unbuckled but his slacks remain firmly in place. They sit tight against his muscular thighs, dampened by precum, and providing a well defined outline of his still erect cock. Saliva pools in his mouth.
“Baby,” he coos softly, voice horse from his screaming. Nanami looks up at him, eyes echoing a deep seated hunger, igniting new sparks beneath Gojo’s skin. He squeezes his pecs. “Ready to fuck my chest?”
Nanami shrugs, “Well, if you insist.”
Gojo snorts, a smile plastered to his face as he scoots back on the desk. However he halts when he hears the clang of Nanami’s belt hit the floor. Turning back, he stares unabashedly as Nanami undoes his zipper, immediately springing his cock free from its confines.
“And you went commando today?” Gojo delights, “Who are you and what have you done with my Kento?”
Nanami frowns as he messages the back of his neck. “I was already running late today, and the whole ordeal threw my chore list off course.”
He observes Nanami, standing with his dick out and looking bashful. Not because they almost got caught, but because he messed up on the laundry schedule. The dichotomy of the situation has Gojo bubbling with giddiness, lips curling, and he sighs whimsically.
“God, I love retirement.” Nanami quirks a brow as they trade looks before the blonde shakes his head, offering a shy smile. Gojo’s heart flips like a pancake, and his own smirk widens as he beckons Nanami closer. “Slick up baby, I don’t want rugburn.”
Nanami rolls his eyes as he climbs onto the desk and straddles Gojo’s waist. Meanwhile Gojo lies flat on his back and admires Nanami pumping himself over his chest. His length sits heavy in his palm as he strokes it, blushing red and thick from base to tip, and Gojo’s so tempted to just suck him off. However he prioritizes preparing himself, cupping the underside of his pecs and pushing them together. He feels precum drip onto his chest, trailing down into the small crevice and he bites his lip. He tilts his head up and finds Nanami’s brow pinched as he angles his erection, member wet and slick as it slides between his pecs, and Gojo gasps at the feeling. They don’t compare to breasts by any means, but from the way Nanami groans, precum shooting against his clavicle as he makes the first thrust, he doubts it's an issue. Plus the view is wonderful. Downright pornographic as Nanami keeps a steady pace. His eyes are completely overcome by lust as he looms over him, brow furrowed and face contorted with need. He places one hand over Gojo’s, teasing a nipple with each thrust and making him moan. Gojo rubs his thighs together while he watches Nanami continue to make a mess of his chest with every motion. Saliva floods his mouth as he craves the taste of him each time his cock nears his chin, and every so often he’ll crane his neck to lick the tip, causing Nanami to stutter.
“Satoru…” He pants when Gojo’s tongue teases the head. “Careful…I might come on your face.”
“That's what I want.”
The surprised noise that strangles its way from Nanami’s throat has Gojo burning all over. He eyes him through white lashes as a playful smile parts his lips.
“Use me, Ken. Come all over me.”
Nanami’s eyes go wide as his hips jerk, calling Gojo’s name like a man yearning for salvation as white stripes paint Gojo’s face. He drops from his climax, bracketing his hands beside Gojo’s head to prevent himself from crushing the latter and works to catch his breath. However, in this position Gojo traps him in his gaze as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking a splattering of spend on his cheek, humming in satisfaction. He feels Nanami’s length twitch against his abdomen, still half hard. He licks his lips.
“Want to go for round three?”
He doesn’t let Nanami’s eyes escape him as his lover responds pragmatically.
“Well, as you mentioned, it is my birthday.”
With a cackle, Gojo wraps his arms around Nanami, fitting their bodies together like two perfect puzzle pieces as he crosses his fingers, warping them home.
Gojo twiddles his thumbs as he sits at the conference room beside Nanami, who's hunched over with his face in his hands. Across from them sits a very pale looking Ijichi, a very angry looking Yaga, and Nitta, who keeps stifling a fit of giggles by smashing her hand over her mouth. Usually the Monday meetings are reserved for discussing the mundane topics of the week. Planning agendas, mission filings, addressing student curriculums, etcetera. However, with the remaining teachers currently missing from the scene, Gojo had a feeling this week's meeting was no longer about school events. Yaga leans over the table from his seat, hands clenched together as they press into the surface.
“Six months…” He starts, “It's been six months since you both retired to become strictly teachers, and each month I get reports of you two fucking like rabbits somewhere on campus. First it was the weapons vault, then in the auxiliary car lot, and now this.”
“Sorry sensei.” Nanami and Gojo speak in unison. However, while Nanami’s tone is tinged with remorse, Gojo can’t find a single reason to feel bad, and he smiles brightly at the trio across from him.
“Keep using the campus as your love hotel and I’m reinstating you two as sorcerers.”
Nanami grumbles a ‘yes sir’ while Gojo boos. Nanami smacks his thigh.
“A-and pay for my desk!” Ijichi stammers.
“Of course, Ijichi!” Gojo clasps his hands together. “Let me make it up to you in the best way I can. How about something contemporary? I saw a beautiful desk imported from Italy. It even has built-in lighting.”
“Oh wow Gojo, um.” Ijichi rubs the back of his head. “You really don’t have to go that far.”
“Oh, but I insist. In fact, we both insist. Right, Nanami?”
Gojo looks back at his boyfriend and watches the tips of his ears turn pink, all too knowing of his intentions. Nitta's laughter finally bursts and Yaga groans.
“I’ve had enough. You two replace the desk with a normal one and go take a sabbatical. Be someone else’s problem for a month. Meeting adjourned.”
With that Yaga rises and marches out the room with Ijichi on his tail. Nitta follows them, taking a moment to pat Gojo on the shoulder and signal for him to spill the details later, leaving just Gojo and Nanami in the room. He swivels in his chair as Nanami presses his face against the table.
“You know,” Gojo trails, “we haven’t fucked in the conference room yet.”
Nanami looks at him incredulously, but there's a spark that flashes through his eyes.
“We are not doing that.” Nanami pauses, brows pinched. “I think I forgot something at home.”
Gojo quirks a brow. Nanami looks back at him, spark flashing once again and Gojo grins wide. “What time do classes start?”
Nanami peeks at his watch. “One hour.”
Gojo jumps from his seat. “Well, we better go find that thing then.”
“Yeah.” Nanami stands up and reaches for Gojo's hand, entwining their fingers together.
“Or,” Gojo pecks him on the lips, “we could look for that thing on the table-”
“Home, Gojo.”
Gojo’s laughter echoes against the walls as they eagerly disappear from the room.