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Maybe, thinks Suguru dazedly, Yaga was right to prohibit the internet on the Jujutsu Tech campus. However, their sensei clearly underestimated Shoko's ability to smuggle in restricted goods - or to sneak out for semi-allowed activities. Which led to their joint outings to the internet cafe in the city as one of those activities, which, in its turn, led to - this.
"What's with that face?" asks Satoru nonchalantly.
Suguru presses his thumb in between his eyebrows where he feels he starts having a permanent frown by now.
"I don't even know where to start," he says.
“Maybe start where you are not being supportive to me who works on our relationship flourishing and benefiting each other’s personal growth”.
“And on which godforsaken forum have you read this bullshit, pray tell?”
Satoru smirks.
“Not on the one that made you freak out,” he says.
Well, yeah, that hellhole of the internet which Satoru has found during one of their outings (and now is pestering Suguru with one or another smartass idea from there) definitely was not full of couple advice, or at least not psychological ones.
The things that it had in abundance though were exactly what Satoru was talking about earlier, dirtiest, filthiest recommendations for sex life. Toys. Bondage. Humiliation. Roleplay and costumes, chains and whips, wax and feathers. And…
Suguru clears his throat.
“Do you even know what it means?” he asks. He is so sick and tired of this, honestly. Why does he even bother?..
“Why,” asks Satoru, his shit-eating smirk growing bigger, a little bit more and it will split his face in two, “you don’t? Little Sugu-chan is so puuure and innocent, so much for calling me a sheltered clan child…”
Right, thinks Suguru, feeling the hot rush surging through his body, that’s exactly why. Nobody could do this to him, make him lose his calm and proper attitude in a couple of seconds, drop all the masks so quickly, no one but Satoru.
He grabs Satoru’s wrist, squeezing strong enough it might leave bruises, stopping him mid-blabbering, steps closer, so the tips of their noses are almost touching, he can see Satoru’s eyes over his glasses, sparkling with mischief.
“So full of yourself, aren’t you,” he purrs, mirroring his smirk. “Come to my room tonight and check yourself what I do and don’t know.”
Satoru opens his mouth, ready for the comeback, of fucking course he is, but Suguru doesn’t let him, he scoots even closer instead, nuzzling into his cheekbone, his ear, scrunching his nose from the ticklish feeling of fluffy white bangs brushing his face, and murmurs hotly: “If you are not afraid, of course, Sa. To. Ru~”
He manages to feel the full-body shiver that gives away Satoru’s excitement before the door clicks and Shoko’s deadpan voice says:
“Oh my god, you guys are so gross I could throw up, can’t a girl leave you two alone for a five-minute bathroom break without you instantly getting on with it or what?”
Suguru sighs and pulls away, letting go of Satoru’s hand. At least his disgruntled, bright-red face makes a priceless view, he thinks.
“Of course you are right,” he says cheerfully, “we are disgusting. Wanna hit the karaoke instead?”
***
Satoru is mad.
He is so mad he actually considers not going just to show Suguru how fundamentally wrong it is to presuppose that one and only Gojo Satoru could turn up at his beck and call, how dare he, self-righteous prick?!
On the other hand, it would mean that a). Suguru has won and whatever is a game they are playing Suguru is not winning, sorry not sorry b). Satoru is afraid of something he himself suggested to do. Nah, not happening.
And besides…
Satoru touches absent-mindedly his wrist, pressing down the light traces that he knows will blossom into full bruises the next morning. The jolt of pain is slight but almost palpable, it ripples through him lazily, alluringly, promising so much more. Nobody could do this to him, make him submit if not surrender, drop any kind of resistance so quickly by just a stupid whisper into his ear, no one but Suguru, wearing the same pleasant smile and cool demeanour as if he was not using his newly discovered dirty talk repertoire mere seconds ago. And Satoru just knows he has to, needs to beat him at it, he’s Satoru freaking Gojo, he excels at anything, so…
Figures.
He pushes the door without even bothering to knock, and immediately makes a face at the strong smell of medical bay in the dorm room.
“What are you doing here, mistaking lab alcohol for liquid courage?”
Suguru stands in front of the desk, sleeves rolled up, back turned to the door, seemingly preoccupied with something and just shrugs before responding:
“You did not think that we were doing it without the proper preparation, did you?”
“Extremely non-sexy,” Satoru remarks, stomping in and closing the door. “What do you have there? Rubber gloves? Enemas? Should I call you Nurse-san?”
“It was your idea, remember?” says Suguru, still in that calm, lulling voice, and Satoru hates him a bit for not turning around, not looking at him, for being so composed when Satoru himself spent his evening on pins and needles, imagining what could happen, almost high from anticipation. What he didn’t expect though was this sombre atmosphere, he doesn’t like it at all, it’s as if he came to Shoko’s nasty lair in the medical wing and had to endure a lot of tests, and jabs, and actual pricks from syringes, and whatnot, and why the fuck Suguru is not turning around?
Satoru comes closer and he sees that Suguru’s nape is bright red, his ears are basically glowing, and oh, oh, does it actually mean what Satoru is thinking it means? That acting all high and mighty Suguru is also dying from embarrassment? It gives so much room for sneering that Satoru gets distracted for a moment, not being able to choose which quip he should use first, and it gives Suguru time to finally turn around, and all the wisecracks are blown out of Satoru’s mind because yes, sure, Suguru’s face is red as a tomato, his eyebrows scrunched in a frown, but also…
Satoru gulps, gaze fixated on a thin silver rod in Suguru’s hands, with several beads along the stem. There is suddenly not enough air in the room, his lips are dry, his heart starts stuttering, and no, he didn’t actually believe that Suguru would take him up on… this.
Maybe, probably he should tone down his sex-related pranks, right?
But there’s also excitement bubbling inside him, begging for release, and a dark, subtle, twisted curiosity which makes him tremble because even if hypothetically he knows that it should feel amazing (he’s read it on the web forum which Suguru disdains so much, the hypocrite), he just can’t imagine how.
“It was your idea,” repeats Suguru, and his voice somehow calms down the turmoil in Satoru’s head, grounds him. “And I did some research,” - despite the blush, he looks confident enough when he runs his long fingers along the rod, pausing slightly at the lower bead and stroking it pensively with his index finger. Satoru makes an illegible sound at that, he knows his eyes are blown wide, he thinks a bit more and he will see the blue reflexes twinkling across the room, his breath is shallow, his mind is filled with a fuzzy cotton-wool. He thinks that Suguru says something more, but he doesn’t register, not really, not until he feels the strong hands around him, holding him tightly, and the warm lips brushing his temple, damp with sweat.
“Hey, you’re alright? Satoru?”
The question annoys him because of fucking course he is alright, he is Satoru Gojo, it’s just… Suguru holds him, rocking slightly like he would hold a frightened child, and somehow it is exhilarating and infuriating at the same time. And Satoru definitely is not afraid, he is just a bit overwhelmed, it is a completely different thing! He lets Suguru leave soothing kisses all over his face though, still reeling inside, but his breathing gets deeper, he is not wheezing anymore at least, and his heart is not trying to break out of his chest.
“Listen, Satoru, if you…” starts Suguru, but Satoru knows well enough where it is going, so he opts for kissing him silent instead, finding both solace and self-confidence in how eagerly and hungry Suguru kisses him back. He pushes forward, pressing them closer together, to show this jerk what it is actually all about, slides his knee in between Suguru’s legs and gasps affectionately, feeling that Suguru is as worked up as he is, he is also hard already, and Satoru rubs enthusiastically up and down, he needs to, has to let Suguru know, to make him understand… He nips on his plush bottom lip and pants hotly into his mouth: “Fuck, I want you to do it, do it to me, Suguru.”
Suguru chuckles in response.
“You’re impossible,” he says, and Satoru giggles, elated.
“You like it,” he answers, “and everything is possible.” “If I’m with you,” he doesn’t add.
And that’s what finally, fucking finally gets him lifted in the air with a huff, and carried to bed, and Suguru kisses him some more, and caresses any centimeter of skin that he reveals while undressing him gingerly, and Satoru is so aroused, his whole body is tingling, that he almost forgets about the sound left forgotten on the tray with disinfectant wipes - until Suguru glances in the desk’s direction, and Satoru remembers. And the thought of it pierces him with a shiver so strong he feels his toes curl unconsciously.
“Are you?..” starts Suguru and Satoru grabs his face fiercely, locking their gazes. “No more,” he hisses, “no more of this thoughtful bullshit or I am getting up, walking through this door and never letting you touch me again.”
Suguru licks his lips and smirks mischievously.
“Empty threat and you know it,” he purrs. “Also, I was going to ask if you are ready?”
***
And that’s exactly what brings them here - Satoru lying on the bed, spread out, exposed, thighs trembling in an effort to stay open, small whimpers falling from his lips, while Suguru is looming over him, thumbing the head of his cock, hard and already dripping, digging his nail into the slit, which elicits a sharp, high-pitched cry, then dips quickly down, silky dark hair brushing Satoru’s abdomen, and kisses the abused spot, leaving small kitten-licks all around, pressing in his tongue, gathering the translucent droplets of precome, and Satoru buckles his hips up, chasing the feeling, but this hot sinful mouth withdraws as fast as it has appeared, leaving him with a painful prick of disappointment.
Until there is a sharp smell of disinfectant filling the room up again, and Suguru grabs his hip, rubbing circles into his hipbone, and says very seriously:
“Now, please, listen to me, Satoru. We don’t want to hurt you, so you have to stay still, no twitching, okay?”
Satoru wants to ask what the hell does it mean, but he suddenly can’t formulate a single word because Suguru starts pushing the sound, slippery with a lotion, into his cock - slowly, carefully, and it takes all the willpower Satoru has to not start screaming and thrashing because it is weird, it is so fucking weird, and it hurts a bit, especially when the rod hits something inside before continuing sliding in, and Suguru keeps talking, fuck him, really: “You are doing so well, Satoru. Taking it so good - it seems that this little hole of yours also couldn’t wait to get fucked, huh? Your cock looks so pretty being stuffed - oh, here we go…” and then the first thick part is sliding in, and Satoru thinks he might pass out, it’s too much, too much, it definitely isn’t gonna fit, is he going to pee blood or something tomorrow? But Suguru leans down, spits on his trembling, fluttering cock which he holds firmly with one hand while still pushing the silver rod in with another, and gives him a sly smile.
“If you wanna cry,” he says. “Cry.”
He pushes the sound all the way in and oh, Satoru cries.
He feels like his brain is filled with a white noise, his cock pulses wildly around the silver rod, the waves of sensations keep crashing on him, leaving him helpless, making him choke on his tears. Then he feels the cold slick lube against his asshole, and two fingers are pushing into him mercilessly, stretching him apart, jabbing his prostate, already assaulted by the sound, and the hot, painful pleasure sparks through him without an actual release, dick gushing miserably around the rod, leaving him boneless and shuddering in his first time coming dry.
And all this under the burning, awe-struck Suguru’s gaze, who seems to not be getting enough of the view in front of him, he watches, transfixed, hungrily, as if he wants to eat Satoru alive. It stirs something within Satoru, the weird feeling is coiling in his gut, inconspicuous in the mixture of pleasure and pain that tears his world apart, and he gathers all his strength, forces himself to sit up, moaning lewdly at the feeling of gravity pushing the sound even deeper into his poor, aching, trembling dick, grabs Suguru by his neck, pressing their foreheads together, mutters: “Don’t you want to see how good can I also take your fat cock though?” and jeers at the tremor that runs through Suguru, collected, reasonable smartass Suguru, from his words.
“You’ve asked yourself,” Suguru all but growls and fumbles with the lube while Satoru pants into his neck, dazed, hyperventilating and painfully aroused. He still manages to say: “Sure,” and punches lightly Suguru’s shoulder. “Now help me, you prick.”
He has time to take one inhale before he is lifted by his hips, asscheeks spread and kneaded by the strong fingers, and fuck why does he manage to forget each time how awfully big this bastard is, does he really has an attention span of a fly as Shoko always says? They are literally screwing every single off-clock moment, how is it even possible to forget?
The maelstrom of the unnecessary thoughts is punched out of him together with the oxygen from his lungs when Suguru bottoms out in one strong motion, and he feels like he’s gonna cum again, his dick throbbing so much that the sound is being pushed out a bit, before Suguru, who makes him sit still on his lap, so incredibly, unbelievably full, grabs it and presses back down, eliciting another sequence of broken screams and sobs.
Satoru almost doesn’t hear himself anymore, his ears are ringing, he is all turned into one nerve cell pulsing around the things that are penetrating his ass, his dick, filling him from both sides so perfectly, hot tears are running down his cheeks, and Suguru licks them languidly, murmuring something about how good he is, how perfectly he takes it all, and then he touches the sound again and starts to pull it out, centimetre by centimetre, so slowly that Satoru feels each one of them, feels the beads sliding inside, and he whimpers pathetically, clenching down on Suguru’s cock when each thick part pops out, followed by a weak gush of liquids.
Suguru pauses before the last one, letting the silver rod slide a bit in, and says, seemingly amused: “Look how your dick loves to be fucked, Satoru. It seems I don’t need to do anything at all, just continue playing with it like this until you don’t have a voice to scream anymore.” He leans in, scraping his teeth at Satoru’s neck, his own voice all honey and seduction, but despite being half-delirious Satoru still can make out the strain, and that one brain cell of his that still keeps operating and is not being turned into a mush feels extremely proud for what Satoru can do to Suguru. Always does.
“Unfortunately,” Suguru says, “I can’t wait either.”
He pulls out the sound at the same moment as his hips snap up, grinding his thick, hot length inside, deeper, impossibly deep, and Satoru is coming, and coming, and coming, he just can’t fucking stop, and Suguru rams into him with abandon, fucking him through the fiercest of orgasms he has ever had.
He still feels how his insides are being rearranged, shaping after the imprint of Suguru’s length, how his back arches out almost painfully, how his blunt nails are scratching Suguru’s shoulders, and he definitely has no voice anymore because the only sounds he can make are the broken hiccups and wheezes, the overstimulation drives him crazy, beyond the point of pain or pleasure, and he manages to think that somewhere in this point lies the secret to the most guarded technique of Gojo clan before his mind blacks out and the world goes impossibly still.
***
When he comes to, he feels the warm wet cloth caressing his sweaty, sticky skin, then another wet thing touching his dry lips, making him suck water from whatever it is, a sponge?
“You’re okay?” asks Suguru, and his voice sounds small and uncertain, and it’s the only thing that can make Satoru open his eyes at the moment.
“Hey,” he croaks, squinting.
“Hey,” says Suguru and gives him a lopsided smile. His hair is a mess, and his naked torso is covered in red scratches which makes Satoru very happy for some reason. He puts away the cloth and helps Satoru lift his head, holding a bottle of water to his lips. Satoru gulps loudly, drinking almost half of it in one go, he never imagined himself being so parched, his body still feels boneless like a jellyfish, blissful nothing is washing through him, and he doesn’t even mind the light from the lamp once in his life, because it looks like his Six Eyes just decided to shut down temporarily from the overload.
He lolls his head sideways, nuzzling into Suguru’s palm, which still smells like a disinfectant. Ugh.
Suguru caresses his cheek, massaging circles with his thumb, and Satoru thinks he might start actually purring.
“I‘m okay,” he says. “C’mere.”
Suguru chuckles, his voice is filled with a warm, genuine relief, and it is so much better, it suits him, thinks Satoru, as well as the light blush covering his cheekbones and the smile with the partly closed eyes. Suguru can be so sweet sometimes.
“Sorry but I’m not sure I have another one in me,” he says and his smile turns impish. “You see, I’ve already cum there, like, a lot.”
But also he is such a prick, Gods!
If Satoru had the energy he would hit him with a pillow, but all he can do is to give him a matching smug look.
“You know what I mean, you big jerk” he decides to pout, because it’s Suguru’s fault he cannot just grab him and tuck them into bed together, snuggling in a mirthful daze.
“I’m here,” says Suguru, continuing to pet his face, ruffle his hair, Satoru feels lightheaded, he is already drifting away, and shit he is gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow for sure, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters. He almost lets his heavy eyelids droop, but then there is a spark of curiosity when he remembers something, so he looks at Suguru’s stupid, blank face again and says, articulating meticulously, fighting against the lulling buzz in the back of his head: “So you said you did your research, have you tried it yourself?”
Suguru gives him an incredulous look, frowns and says under his breath something like “why do I even bother indeed”, and then, louder: “If I lie down with you will you shut the fuck up, pretty please?”
Satoru giggles and squirms eagerly to his side when he comes under the covers (the fresh ones, he notices, oh so orderly and well-thought of Suguru to change the bedding while Satoru was apparently out of it), very content with himself and his brilliant strategy of getting his personal heater.
“Can’t promise, y’know? But you did a good job,” he elbows Suguru slightly in the side and sighs happily when the heavy arm pushes him down, making him lie still. “I might even not bring up my other ideas from that forum… for a couple of days, at least.”
He dozes off smiling, accompanied by Suguru’s exasperated groan.