Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Satoru was five when he became aware of the ache. He wasn’t sure when it started, he only knew that one day he felt it and his mind recognized it. It was in his chest, somewhere deep that he couldn’t touch or see. He went to his mother. 

“Mommy, it hurts here.”

At first she thought he hurt himself playing. Then she thought he was getting a cold. When he continued to complain about it day after day, she took him to the doctor. Of course, there was nothing wrong. His parents took him to get a second opinion. And then a third. He was sent to specialists. Eventually, one of the specialists peered solemnly into his mother’s eyes as they sat across from him in his office. 

“Have you considered it may be a mental problem?”

Satoru remembers his dad being angry on the drive home. His mother tried to calm him and suggested they just ‘take Satoru once.’ The next week a psychiatrist visited him at home and told his parents the chest pain was likely to be a symptom of anxiety. They gave his mother several exercises and child-appropriate routines to put in place to help him manage. 

But Satoru didn’t feel anxious. At least, not in the way the psychiatrist and his mother kept explaining it and asking him questions about. He didn’t feel jittery, his stomach didn’t twist or hurt, his palms didn’t get sweaty and he didn’t have tremors. He slept and ate just fine. He enjoyed socialising and trying new things. He was able to focus on his schoolwork and any task given to him by his nanny or parents. 

So Satoru stopped telling his parents about the ache. It was better to let his mother believe the anxiety exercises and routines were working. It made her smile at him again. It made his father less angry. Maybe this was just how he was made, and he’d need to get used to it. 

The ache never went away, but it never changed either. It was always there, like there was something ‘off’ inside him. He was never able to ignore it. It just became a constant part of him. He was Gojo Satoru. He had blue eyes and white hair. He was the next head of the Gojo Family. He had an ache in his chest. 

When Satoru was older, and he started to read books or watch movies that contained love stories, he felt a strange familiarity with it. The way the lovers were described to pine for each other, the way it hurt them to be apart, as if a very part of them was missing, made sense to Satoru. It made him rub at his chest and think, me too. I’m missing my soulmate too, and that’s why I ache. 

But that was ridiculous. Satoru felt the ache his entire life. He was born and still just a child, so he'd never had a lover. Once he became a teenager he started to date, just to see if it would change anything, but it didn’t. Maybe he would feel the ache until he died. 

By the time he’s 28, he’s gotten good at projecting an outward appearance that nothing bothers him. He needs to be untouchable, impenetrable, strong if he’s going to be head of one of the largest gokudo families in the country. He’s dated models and idols, made connections throughout the city and the country, and is recognized for his charm and his ruthlessness. 

Satoru’s sitting in the VIP section of a club when he first sees him. Satoru’s just arrived, so he hasn’t invited any beautiful women to come and be around him yet. He’s sipping at his first drink, legs crossed as he surveys his surroundings. The lights flash, and the bass pulses across the bodies in the room. His eyes catch on a man near the bar, and Satoru stops looking at anything else. 

The man is young, maybe just out of his teenage years, but his eyes are serious. Satoru can see that even from a distance. They’re narrow and sharp below thin eyebrows and above a sloping nose. His long black hair shines in the flashing lights. He has a cigarette held between his fingers, and he takes a long drag from it. Satoru lowers his glass and raises a hand. One of his men steps over, leaning down to hear him. 

“Bring him to me.” Satoru motions to the man at the bar. He watches as his man heads over and speaks to the stranger. The dark-haired man glances sharply, eyes shifting across the room before they land on the VIP section. On Satoru. 

White hot fire lights inside Satoru and licks up his insides, right into the ache in his chest. 

The man frowns and rolls his eyes, turning away. Satoru sets his drink down on the table without a second thought and stands, walking over to the stranger. He dismisses his man with a flick of his wrist and sidles up next to the stranger, leaning his elbow on the bar. 

“Are you not interested in the VIP section or not interested in me?” Satoru asks, blatantly staring at the profile of the man. He’s even more beautiful up close. 

He flicks his eyes to Satoru, and they’re a lush violet. His black hair is half tied up in a bun and half is loose around his ears, brushing his shoulders. The stranger’s mouth is downturned slightly in annoyance, and Satoru wants to kiss those lips. The thought comes to him abruptly, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He’s never felt compelled to kiss anyone. Especially not a man. 

“Both,” the man says in a sweet tenor, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray, and begins to turn away. 

The ache in Satoru’s chest flares violently, and his hand shoots out, grabbing the man’s wrist. His heart pounds in his chest, and he inanely thinks, maybe I do have anxiety.  

“My name is Gojo Satoru. Can I at least buy you a drink?”

The stranger hesitates, then turns back to Satoru, and Satoru forces himself to let go of his wrist. He eyes Satoru before he lifts a full glass. 

“I already have one, thanks.” A pause, like he’s debating whether to try to walk away again or not. “I’m Geto Suguru.” 

The mad pounding of Satoru’s heart begins to lessen, and Satoru smiles. 

“Alright. Then, can I interest you in a dance?” he suggests.

Suguru gulps his drink down in one go before he nods and turns to the dance floor. Satoru follows him, body humming. They move into the throng of bodies, and Suguru turns back to face Satoru, starting to move to the music. Satoru doesn’t usually dance, but he makes himself sway. Suguru’s eyebrow quirks as his lips twitch into a half smile. He steps closer and grabs Satoru’s hands, pulling them to hold Suguru’s hips. 

Satoru almost combusts. Their bodies shift closer, and Suguru rolls his body seductively. Satoru’s hands slowly grip and feel Suguru’s body. It is very clear that this is a man. Not a woman. Satoru has never been this close to another man unless he was hitting him. Suguru leans closer, voice louder to be heard over the music. 

“Why’d you want to dance if you’re shit at it?”

It startles a laugh out of Satoru, and he pulls Suguru closer on instinct. 

“I didn’t want you to walk away from me,” he says, and it’s astonishing how truthful it is and how good it feels to say it. 

Suguru frowns a little, but his mouth is still smiling. He puts his hands on Satoru’s chest and dances against him. He lets Satoru sway and hold his hips, watching him. Suguru seems to relax a little and be less on edge as the song continues. They stay on the floor for three songs before Suguru slows and speaks again. 

“Alright, you can take me to your little VIP section,” he says with a smirk. 

Satoru matches Suguru’s smirk. “How about I take you home?”

He’s surprised that Suguru was willing to leave the club with him. Satoru dismissed his bodyguard and driver, so it’s just him and Suguru in the car. They haven’t left the parking garage because as soon as they got in the car, Satoru shifted the driver's seat back as far as it could go and dragged Suguru over the center console. He pulled Suguru onto his lap. Suguru straddled Satoru’s thighs and grabbed onto the seat behind Satoru’s shoulders. He’s looking down at Satoru with a curious and playful gleam in his eyes. 

Satoru’s hands are on Suguru’s hips again. But this time he’s moving them. He’s rubbing up and down Suguru’s sides, bunching the shirt under his ministrations. As the shirt rides up, Satoru’s fingers graze the bare skin underneath. Suguru moves a hand and touches the ends of Satoru’s hair. 

“Have you ever fucked a man?” Suguru asks softly. As vulgar as it is, it somehow sounds sweet coming from him. 

Satoru shakes his head. “No.” 

Suguru doesn’t look surprised, and Satoru wonders what is so telling about his own behavior. Suguru’s hand moves to touch Satoru’s jaw, and Satoru swallows. Suguru leans closer slowly, gaze never wavering from Satoru’s. Then, at the last second, Suguru closes his eyes and kisses Satoru. 

Satoru gasps as the ache in him recedes, dulling, and his hands slide up Suguru’s back. He clutches at Suguru and pulls him closer as he strains into the kiss. Suguru cups his cheek and draws back just enough to shush him gently. Then he kisses Satoru again. Suguru’s mouth is hot and firm. He smells like smoke, sweat, and black tea. He licks into Satoru’s mouth slowly, kissing him like he wants to fuck him. 

Satoru kisses back desperately. He has never felt like this. Never kissed like this. He feels dizzy, his palms are sweaty, his dick is aching in his pants. They kiss slowly and deeply, lips and tongues pressing and sliding together. Satoru can feel a desperation in himself that he’s never experienced before. He’s dated, he’s kissed, he’s had sex, but he’s never felt like this. His entire body is awake and reaching for Suguru. 

Satoru breathes his name, “Suguru,” and Suguru shifts back a little, smiling. 

“Didn’t realize we were on a first name basis. Awfully forward of you, don’t you think?” He teases. 

Satoru can only think, why is that so hot? He rubs at the broadness of Suguru’s back, enjoying how they’re breathing each other’s air. 

“Don’t you want me crying out your name while you fuck me?” Satoru asks. He keeps doing and saying things that shock himself. That kind of question is something Satoru would want the girl he’s having sex with to say to him. But he’s saying it to this boy like he wants to take his cock in his ass. Strangely, the thought does not freak him out. It makes his own dick throb. 

“How old are you?” Satoru questions, almost afraid to know. If Suguru is a minor, Satoru is going to gently remove the boy from his car and cry the entire drive home. 

Suguru huffs a laugh. “I’m 20. What, are you an old man?”

Satoru kisses Suguru, biting at his bottom lip. “I’m 28.”

“Eeh? So you are a perverted old man.”

Satoru drags his hands down to squeeze Suguru’s ass. 

“Get in your seat so I can drive,” he commands. 

Suguru smirks, and Satoru has to fight against himself to not just start kissing him again. He watches as the dark-haired man gracefully crawls back across the car and situates himself into the passenger seat. He buckles himself in, and Satoru does the same before pulling out of the parking spot. Once they hit the street, Satoru reaches over and puts a hand on Suguru’s thigh. He squeezes at the firm muscle there, and then just keeps his hand on him. Suguru lays his hand over Satoru’s wrist, fingers curling around it.

Satoru takes them to his penthouse. There’s an elevator straight from the garage to his door, so they don’t come across anyone else. Satoru pulls Suguru against him again as soon as the elevator doors close. Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s neck, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. 

“You’re rich, huh?” He questions softly. It’s rhetorical because no one who isn't rich could afford the clothes Satoru’s wearing, or the car he drives, or the penthouse they’re entering. Suguru kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “What if I gave you a hickey? Right here where your fancy dress shirt can’t cover it? All your business partners would see it.”

Satoru lifts Suguru, gripping at his ass and thighs to hold him up, and Suguru wraps his legs around him. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Satoru says, the words flowing out of him strange and easy. It should make him panic to say something like that. To even think it. He would never allow anyone to do anything to him. He is always in control. It’s how he was raised. How he has to be as a Gojo. But Satoru can feel that he absolutely means it for Suguru. 

He steps out of the elevator, carrying Suguru into his penthouse. He toes out of his shoes and doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, carrying Suguru straight into his bedroom. Suguru’s fingers work open the top two buttons on Satoru’s shirt, and he kisses down to his shoulder. 

“I’ll be nice tonight,” he murmurs and latches on to Satoru’s shoulder, sucking a bruise there. 

Satoru steps over to stand beside the bed, reaching for his nightstand drawer with one hand. Suguru uses his own strength to help hold himself on Satoru. Satoru digs a bottle of lube and condoms out of the drawer and tosses them on the bed before holding Suguru with both hands again. He doesn't set him down until Suguru releases his mouth from Satoru’s skin. 

Then he flings Suguru onto the bed, and Suguru laughs. Satoru moves to the foot of the bed and stands, watching as Suguru undresses himself. He slips out of each article of clothing, not rushing but not making a show of it either, and pushes them off the bed. Once he's naked, he undoes the hair tie around his half bun, slipping it over his wrist. 

He lies in the center of Satoru’s bed, on top of the luxurious sheets, naked and beautiful. 

His black hair frames his face, young but poised, and his violet eyes burn into Satoru. Suguru is muscular, thicker in thigh than Satoru, but he’s shorter and overall less imposing. His skin is a creamy tan and his dusky brown nipples frame his chest. 

There's a dark patch of hair that trails down his stomach and between his legs, drawing Satoru’s eye to his flushed erection. Satoru licks his lips and swallows hard. He's seen a lot of dicks. He's a man. He's been to urinals and locker rooms and bathhouses. He's watched porn, so he's even seen other men’s dicks erect. 

But they were always just that. A random penis that didn't mean anything to Satoru. Why would he care about some other man's junk? 

Looking at Suguru makes his mouth water. It makes his own dick twitch in his pants. It makes his head pound. It makes his heart thunder. It makes the ache inside him tremble. 

Suguru spreads his legs obscenely and reaches down, palming himself lazily. He tilts his head to the side. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all night… Satoru?”

Satoru’s breath hitches at the way Suguru’s lips and tongue curl around the syllables of his name. The way his warm tenor caresses his name. The ache sings. For a moment, it doesn't even hurt. Instead, his chest feels warm and full. It stuns him and he can't move, can't react. 

Suguru takes pity on him and gets up to be on his knees. He shuffles to the end of the bed to be directly in front of Satoru, and he begins to unbutton Satoru’s shirt the rest of the way. Satoru watches him, body and mind relaxed in a way they never have been before. 

Suguru keeps his eyes on his task, slipping each pearlescent button from its hole. But there's a small and sweet smile on his lips. Satoru can't look away from it. 

Suguru slips Satoru’s shirt down his arms, and his gaze catches on the scars that litter Satoru’s body. He frowns a little, fingers touching and tracing them. His eyes jump up to Satoru’s, and he looks like he might ask. 

What are these scars from? 

But he doesn't. He simply drops the shirt to the floor and begins to undo Satoru’s pants. He threads the belt out of its loops, dropping it to the floor with a clank of the buckle. Then the pants and underwear are pushed down to Satoru’s ankles. 

Satoru’s weeping erection springs up, happy to be free of its confinement. Suguru touches it without hesitation. Satoru’s hips stutter forward once, and Suguru strokes him lightly, touching all over as if he's learning its size and shape with his hands. Then Suguru tucks his hair behind his ears, sits down on his feet, and slides his mouth onto Satoru. 

Satoru watches in rapt wonder. He watches as Suguru’s pretty and neat lips stretch wide around him, as his sharp and warm eyes squint in concentration as he adjusts to the fullness in his mouth. He feels the heat and wetness of Suguru’s mouth and tongue. 

Suguru bobs his head, sucking noisily. Each time he pushes his head forward, he draws Satoru into his mouth just that much deeper. Satoru moans and touches Suguru’s head. He cups it with his hands and strokes at Suguru’s hair. 

Gradually Suguru increases his pace, sucking at him in earnest. He sucks hungrily, greedy and sloppy. Satoru never really understood the appeal of blowjobs until now. Sure, they felt good, and they'd make him come. But it always seemed too involved, and he wasn't sure if the woman he was with actually liked it or felt like she had to do it to pleasure him. It made him uncomfortable. 

Satoru has no question over whether Suguru likes this. His face is flushed rose, and his eyes are relaxed. He's breathing heavy through his nose and making little pleased huffs. He's sucking Satoru like he's earned this as a prize and he's going to get everything he's owed. 

Suguru suddenly looks up into Satoru’s eyes, and he pushes forward, relaxing even more so Satoru slides into his throat. Satoru quivers, hands spasming and gripping Suguru’s hair. Suguru’s eyes stake him in place, and he drools around Satoru. Satoru gasps and keens, pleasure exploding in his groin and running through his limbs. 

He shoves Suguru back and off him completely, shuddering. 

“I'm gonna come,” he breathes, desperately trying to reign himself in. He doesn't want to come yet. Not yet. Not until Suguru is inside of him. 

Suguru wipes at his mouth and grabs Satoru’s arms, tugging him onto the bed. Satoru lets himself be led. He's pushed to lie down on his back, and Suguru moves beside him, picking up the bottle of lubricant. He coats his fingers and then looks at Satoru. 

“Have you ever done any ass play at all?” He removes Satoru’s pants and underwear from his ankles, pushing the clothing to the floor. 

Satoru shrugs, still trying to stave off his orgasm. “I've had a finger up there a few times. That's it.”

Suguru nods, pressing himself into Satoru’s side and kissing him. He reaches down between Satoru’s legs. His own legs wrap around the one of Satoru’s that's next to him, pulling it out so Satoru’s more accessible. It makes Satoru’s ears burn. He has never been exposed like this before. He feels vulnerable. 

A slick finger probes at his hole, rubbing the rim, and then it slides inside. Satoru focuses on Suguru’s lips and tongue. The faint taste of himself there. He focuses on the heat of Suguru’s body. The thickness of Suguru’s thighs that hold his own leg. The hot press of Suguru’s erection at his hip. He wonders where this boy came from and why Satoru’s only just found him now. 

The fingering pulls Satoru back from the edge, and he's able to calm down enough to push his orgasm away. It's a bit uncomfortable, but Suguru takes his time until Satoru begins to feel the stirrings of pleasure. It's like embers, deep and low inside him. And Suguru is patient as he fans them into a flame. His fingers curl and stretch, probing and stroking inside Satoru. 

He presses against a bundle of nerves inside Satoru, and Satoru jerks, groaning into the dark-haired man's mouth. Suguru smiles and sucks on Satoru’s tongue for a moment. 

“There it is. That's how I'm going to make you feel good.” Suguru rumbles against his lips. He presses and rubs that spot in Satoru until Satoru is writhing on the bed. 

Suguru carefully withdraws his fingers and shifts away, picking up a condom wrapper. He rips it open and rolls the condom over himself before crawling in between Satoru’s legs, looking down at him. Satoru feels unmoored. He's lost sight of the shore. All he can see is Suguru, like his own personal lighthouse. 

Suguru cups his cheek. “Do you still want it?” he asks softly, no reproach or pressure in his tone. Satoru nods in awe and reaches up, touching Suguru’s beautiful face. 

“You're beautiful.” He can't help but to say it. Suguru smiles, eyes crinkling. 

“Do you always get this mushy during sex?” Suguru teases kindly, and Satoru’s mind answers even though his mouth does not. 

No. He never has. Sex has only ever been pleasure and power. Satoru doesn't know what this is. 

Suguru lifts Satoru’s hips a little and shifts closer, pressing inward. The head of his cock is hard and unyielding as he pushes into Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen a little, body tightening with shock and learned panic. Suguru rubs at his flank. 

“You have to breathe to let me in,” he instructs Satoru calmly. And Satoru listens to him, forcing himself to push back the immediate reaction of no, I'm a Gojo, I'm a man. Because Satoru wants this. He wants Geto Suguru. And he wants him just like this. 

Suguru eases inside, murmuring soft words of praise and encouragement. Once he's fully seated he pauses, panting and frowning. Satoru is able to take in Suguru’s state now, and he sees the sweat on his forehead, the slight tremor in his body as he holds back to ensure Satoru is okay first. What a cute kid. 

Satoru grins. “Alright, you better fuck me like you mean it. Didn't you say you were gonna make me feel good?”

Suguru grins back and starts to move, rocking into Satoru. Satoru moans, grabbing at Suguru’s shoulders. He waits to see how Suguru is moving before he begins to move himself to match. Suguru starts to thrust, pulling back and then driving back home. It pushes the wind out of Satoru a little, and he holds on as the rhythm gets faster. 

There's molten liquid inside of him, and Suguru is pushing more and more into him with each thrust. Suguru’s eyes are flicking over him, taking in every part of him, as he pants and moans. Satoru feels himself opening more and more, legs spreading on their own in a desperate desire for Suguru to get closer, to get deeper. 

Suguru licks his lips. “For someone… Who's never done this before… You…you take cock like a slut.”

Satoru cries out, body burning, and digs his nails into Suguru’s skin. Suguru shifts and thrusts against that spot inside Satoru, and Satoru is choking on his own breath. He's clinging to and clutching at Suguru as Suguru fucks him faster. The bed is rocking under them, and Suguru is putting his strength into it, their bodies slapping together. 

Suguru presses his face down into Satoru’s. “Do you like it?” He pants, eyes demanding an answer. “Do you like me fucking you, Satoru?”

Satoru’s body and mind is bewildered. Suguru keeps pushing inside him, pushing past his barriers to enter his body. He feels hot and full and open. The onslaught of sensation and emotion that is all good and pleasure and terrifying is overwhelming. He moans, loud and needy. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I like it. I like it so much. I like you—”

He throws his head back and cries out as his orgasm hits him. It takes over his entire body, lighting him up as if electricity circuits through him. He comes all over himself and Suguru, and Suguru continues to pound into him, fucking him through it. There's a crystal clear moment, like a raindrop suspended in air. Frozen in a dream. And Satoru becomes aware of it. 

He does not ache. 

And then Suguru is coming, grinding his hips forward and gasping, moaning low and deep. Satoru is dazed, head spinning to the edges of understanding, and all he knows is Suguru over him, in him, touching him, kissing him. 

Suguru shifts after a moment, drawing his lips away from Satoru’s. He eases himself out of Satoru, and Satoru groans softly. Suguru rolls the condom off, ties it, and tosses it into the wastebasket on the floor. He stays sitting near the edge of the bed, looking out into the dark room, and a tense nervousness begins to creep over him. 

Satoru feels like he's made of rice porridge instead of anything with structure. He tugs the sheet free from the bed and wipes the come off his stomach. Then he shoves it to the floor. He blinks at Suguru’s back, watching his shoulders get tight. He sticks a foot out and rubs it against Suguru's thigh. 

“Hey. Come here and cuddle me,” Satoru slurs. 

Suguru glances back at him, surprise evident in his features. He still hesitates. 

“Just sleep here. I'll drive you wherever you wanna go in the morning. It's crazy late.” Satoru nudges him with his foot. Suguru slowly turns and crawls over. Satoru grabs him and tugs him into his chest. He wraps his arms around the slighter man, sighing contently. Has he ever felt this loose and warm? 

His eyes slip closed, and he rubs at Suguru’s back. Suguru shifts a little, getting comfortable, and holds Satoru back cautiously. 

“You a student?” Satoru asks. 

“Yeah,” Suguru’s voice is quiet. It's so interesting how confident and in control he was while they had sex. Now he's unsure. Satoru laughs a little, and he can feel Suguru squirm. “What’s so funny?”

“Why are you so tense? Haven't you ever cuddled before?” Satoru chuckles. 

Suguru goes stiff, and Satoru opens his eyes, peering down at the dark head. Suguru doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to. Satoru rubs his back again. 

“Alright. You're my first gay sex experience, and I'm your first cuddle experience.”

Suguru gradually relaxes, and Satoru rubs his feet against Suguru’s under the comforter. 

“What do you study?” He asks, picking up the previous thread. 

Suguru’s fingers trace circles into Satoru’s skin. “Information Technology.”

Satoru frowns. “Gross. What made you pick that?”

“...Job security.”

Satoru’s eyes open again and it hits him. Suguru is poor. Well. Maybe not poor. He remembers Suguru’s clothes, the look and feel of them. He definitely doesn't seem to have expendable money. So… A poor student. 

His hand slides up Suguru’s back, and he twirls his fingers in Suguru’s hair. A dark seed plants itself inside Satoru. Right next to where the ache has always lived. This was a one-night stand. A pick up, fuck, and goodbye. They have no ties and no need to exchange numbers or see each other again. 

Sure, Suguru seemed to enjoy himself, and maybe would be down to get his dick wet again. But what does Satoru have that other, younger, non-criminal guys don't? There are plenty of guys who are down to fuck. What could he offer Suguru to make him stay near Satoru? Stay within Satoru’s reach? 

Because it wasn't an orgasmic hallucination. The ache is quiet, muted and removed. If this boy… Whatever it is about him, gives the ache a reason to go away… Why would Satoru let him get away? 

And Satoru has money. Lots and lots of money. Stupid money. Maybe… Maybe he could… 

Satoru’s fingers comb through Suguru’s hair, and he makes himself breathe, slow and deep. Tomorrow. He'll bring it up tomorrow. Make it seem casual. Figure out a way to make Suguru say yes. Figure out a way to see Suguru again. To keep Suguru. 

In the morning Satoru wakes before Suguru does. He stares at the younger man. Stares at his slack sleeping face. Stares at his dark hair spread across Satoru’s pillow. Stares at the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. He leans in close and presses his face into Suguru’s hair, inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Then Satoru moves down lower, moved by compulsion, and he tucks his face into Suguru’s armpit, smelling him there too. He goes down even lower, pressing close to Suguru’s groin, smelling the musk of him. 

He gently lifts Suguru’s foot and presses his nose there too, inhaling him. A distant part of Satoru’s brain is ringing alarm bells. This is weird. This is freaky of him. Why is he smelling Suguru’s sleeping body like a creep? But he can’t stop himself. Satoru needs to internalize everything he can about him. He grabs Suguru’s hands and smells his palms, pressing his face into them. He licks slowly over the life line in one of Suguru’s palms, and then the other.

Suguru stirs, voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing?”

It’s enough to make Satoru stop and touch Suguru in a more rational way. He grins and rubs at Suguru’s cheek. 

“Aren’t you hungry? I’ll take you for breakfast.” Satoru says, ignoring Suguru’s actual question. 

Suguru cracks an eye open and peers at Satoru. “You’re going to buy me breakfast?”

Satoru pouts. “I’m good for it!” 

Suguru snorts and sits up. “I wasn’t saying that you’re not. I was saying—”

Satoru’s phone rings, and they both look at it. Satoru leans to pick it up, glancing at the caller ID. He sits up fully and gets out of the bed. 

“Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll get you some clothes to wear. I gotta take this call.”

Suguru nods and slips out of the bed, glancing at him for another moment before padding off to the bathroom. Satoru answers the call so it doesn’t go to voicemail, but he doesn’t raise the phone up to his ear or start speaking until the bathroom door is closed. 

Once Suguru is finished bathing, Satoru takes his turn. After he gets dressed, he comes out to find Suguru in the living room, looking at the titles on Satoru’s bookshelves. Satoru comes to stand near him, adjusting his cuff links. 

“Anything you wanna read? You can borrow it.” Satoru suggests. 

Suguru looks over at him, taking in Satoru’s attire. Similar to last night, Satoru is wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt. He has a shirt collar chain on and his sunglasses. Suguru eyes him from head to toe and purses his lips. 

“Do you always dress up?” he asks. Satoru shrugs. 

“Kinda comes with the job. So it’s most of my wardrobe.” He steps in close, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s waist and pulling him in against his body. “Besides, I gave you my comfy clothes,” he says with a smirk. Suguru’s wearing a pair of Satoru’s looser fitting slacks that are wider in the legs. He’s rolled the bottoms up so they stop just above his ankles. And a loose graphic tee tucked in at the waist. 

Suguru looks unimpressed with Satoru’s flirting. He glances back over at the books. “Have you read all of those?” 

Satoru doesn’t look away from Suguru’s face, intrigued by the minute shifts in his expression now that he can see him in brighter light. 

“Yeah.”

Suguru blinks and stares at him, not exactly shocked, but clearly not expecting that answer. 

“You must be incredibly intelligent. There are some difficult texts on your shelves,” Suguru says softly.

Satoru smiles a little. “It’s good to learn new things,” he replies just as softly. It’s almost like they’re saying something different than what the words convey. 

Suguru steps out of his hold. “Think I was promised breakfast.” 

He heads over to the front door. Satoru had taken Suguru’s shoes over there while Suguru was showering. Since he’d carried Suguru inside last night, Suguru took his shoes off in the bedroom. Satoru grabs his suit jacket and follows behind him as they head down to the garage. They get back in Satoru’s car, and Suguru eyes it more than he did last night. 

Satoru turns the radio on low, and they discuss the music they like as he drives. Surprisingly, it’s easy to talk to Suguru. They laugh and tease each other about their musical differences and bond and express excitement over their similarities. Satoru wasn’t sure if it’d be awkward in the morning or if the connection between them is simply physical, but this feels like more. He feels like he’s known Suguru before last night. As if they’re friends who are meeting up after not seeing each other for a while. 

Once they’re seated at the restaurant and they’ve both ordered, Suguru glances around quietly. It’s not a wildly expensive or upscale restaurant, but it’s definitely not a family restaurant or casual eatery. Suguru touches his tea cup and looks back at Satoru. Satoru has just been openly watching him. 

“What do you do for work?” Suguru asks slowly. 

Satoru smiles. “I’m a businessman. I work for a large PR company, and I’m pretty high up.” He watches Suguru eye him, clearly thinking that no regular businessman would have all those scars on his body. But Suguru merely nods and picks up his tea, sipping it. Satoru leans across the table. “Do you like movies?”

Suguru raises his eyebrows and smiles, setting the cup down. Just like they’d talked about music, they now talk about movies. Movies leads them into tv shows, and they discuss directors, idols, and actors. The conversation flows effortlessly as they eat and hours drift by. Satoru feels his phone vibrate in his pocket from time to time, but he ignores it. He’s given his entire life to the Family. He’s going to have this one breakfast to himself. 

As a comfortable lull settles over them, Satoru rotates a spoon between his fingers. 

“Suguru,” he says firmly, bringing Suguru’s eyes back to meet his. Satoru takes a breath. He can’t remember the last time he felt nervous when presenting a proposition to someone. Maybe when he first started going out on work with his father, when he was learning the ropes? He’s always been confident that he will get what he wants, one way or another. Now, with Suguru, that confidence grows thin and flimsy. 

“I want to ask you something.”

Suguru nods, expression open and unguarded. A twitch of the ache flickers, and a quick thought rushes inside Satoru. Does Suguru look at anyone else like that? He clenches his teeth and grips the spoon tight for a second before setting it down on the table. 

“You’re a student, and I’m a businessman. You have wants and needs. I have wants and needs. It’s clear from last night and today that we get along in multiple ways. So, I’d like to propose that we begin a relationship that is unique to us and benefits us both.”

Suguru listens attentively, and then his eyes narrow just a little. He blinks a few times, still silent. Satoru folds his hands together in the hopes that it conveys confidence and nonchalance. Truthfully, his palms are sweating so much it’s like he dunked them in water. Then Suguru smiles, eyes crinkling, and he laughs. 

“Did you just ask to be my sugar daddy?” 

Satoru smiles because Suguru is still smiling. “Sure. If that’s what you’d like us to call it.” He doesn’t care what label they put on it. In Satoru’s mind, it’s making Suguru belong to him. 

Suguru blows out a breath and leans back in his chair. “Do you somehow know that I’m poor or are you assuming it?”

Satoru takes a fuller inhale. Okay, Suguru isn’t offended, so even if he’s considering saying no, Satoru has the opportunity to convince him. 

“You told me you’re studying IT like you were telling me you were heading to the gallows. And when I asked why, you said, ‘job security.’ I think that’s telling enough.”

Suguru nods and looks down at the table. “I’m guessing we’d have rules, right? Things I have to do and things you’re going to do?”

“To be honest,” Satoru says, figuring he’ll put all the cards on the table, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve dated and been in relationships. A lot of them were models and idols, so we had things we did or didn’t do in order to protect ourselves publicly and socially. But I’ve never had a…”

“Sugar baby,” Suguru says with a smirk, glancing up at him. 

Satoru squints. “...such a unique relationship. So rules would probably help us both feel comfortable and safe. We’d know what to expect from each other instead of guessing or assuming.”

“What would some of your rules be?” Suguru scratches behind his ear. “Just so I have an idea of what it’d be like.”

“Okay.” Satoru unfolds his hands and thinks for a moment. He wasn’t sure he’d get this far, so he didn’t exactly think through logistics. “No sex with or dating other people. That can go for both of us. I’d want us to get tested, and do it regularly. You can’t show up at my place unannounced. I will pick you up or invite you over. If I call or text you, I expect a response in a reasonable amount of time. We can negotiate the exact time frame. 

Same with requests for seeing you in person. I expect most of them to be accepted, but I will not interfere with your schooling or the activities you need to do. We can decide on a weekly or monthly amount together, and I can deposit it directly into your bank account.”

Suguru stares at him. “...You’re serious.”

Satoru blinks. Did he read this wrong? Was Suguru not taking it seriously this whole time? Was he only pretending to because he thought Satoru was joking? Is he actually offended by this proposition? Did Satoru mess this up? The ache flares to life in his chest, raging back into his attention, and he winces. His hand starts to reach up to it, but he quickly aborts the movement so he doesn’t appear weak. 

Satoru feels the invisible shield he’s crafted so well slip over him. His face is calm, giving nothing away, and his blue eyes gleam like a blade. Nothing Suguru says will affect him. He’s a Gojo. He’s untouchable. 

But then Suguru smiles and nods, expression faintly shy. “Okay. I want that.”

Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest, and his learned apathy and the profound joy he’s suddenly feeling crash against each other inside him like a weather front. He’s stuck there in the boundary between the two. Suguru reaches across the table and grabs his hand. 

“You okay?” He asks, thumb sliding over Satoru’s Family ring. It brings Satoru out of it and he nods. 

“Yeah. Guess I didn’t expect you to say yes,” Satoru answers. 

Suguru squeezes his hand. “Hmm, money and hot sex? Who would turn that down?”

The flippant words surprise a laugh out of Satoru, and Suguru grins at him. Satoru relaxes again and nods. 

“Exactly. I’ve got everything you need, so you better stick with me.” 

Satoru pays for the meal, and they head back to the car. Suguru tells him to take him to campus because he lives in the dorms. Satoru has to bite his tongue to stop himself from offering to buy Suguru an apartment of his own. Baby steps. Just like everything else he’s done in his life, he needs to lay each piece down at the right time. It’s the only way to succeed and attain what he wants. 

They exchange numbers and agree to set up a meeting soon so they can each share their rules with one another. Suguru starts to open the door and slip out the car, but Satoru grabs his arm, pulling him back in. 

“Hey. You forgot something,” he tells Suguru. Suguru frowns a little, confused. So Satoru leans across and kisses him. Suguru makes a small noise of surprise, but immediately kisses back. They draw it out and Satoru reaches up to cup under Suguru’s jaw, holding him in place. Satoru doesn’t rush and doesn’t move to end it, moving his lips against Suguru’s with clear subtext. 

You belong to me now. 

Satoru eases back a little after several long minutes. “Don’t ever say goodbye without kissing me,” he murmurs, and he watches Suguru’s pupils dilate. “Now, go on.”

Suguru moves slowly, as if in a daze. He gets out of the car and closes the door, looking at Satoru through the tinted glass. Then he turns and starts walking to his dorm. Satoru doesn’t drive away until he can no longer see Suguru. 

Satoru heads to the main office downtown. He walks inside without rush and immediately runs into his bodyguard and driver, Nanami. Nanami is his right hand man. He was adopted into the Gojo Family when Satoru was just becoming a teenager, and he was trained to be Satoru’s second. They’re like oil and water, and Satoru is pretty sure Nanami hates him and doesn’t respect him, but Nanami will always have his back without hesitation. 

Nanami stares at him with open disdain. “Where have you been? I’ve been messaging and calling you all morning.”

Satoru plops down on the couch, letting his head drop over the backrest. “I went out for breakfast.”

He can feel Nanami’s annoyance from across the room even without looking at him. “It’s the late afternoon.”

“I ate for a long time.”

There’s a long beat of silence. 

And then, “Did you really take that boy home?” Nanami asks. He’d been standing near Satoru in the VIP section last night. He’d watched like a hawk as Satoru stood up and went to the bar. He stared them down while they danced. And he’d glared at Satoru when Satoru told him to head home early, took the car keys, and left the club with a stranger. 

“What’s the problem, Nanami? I’ve had sex with strangers before.”

Nanami steps closer. “Women. At hotels,” he hisses. 

Satoru closes his eyes so he can’t see Nanami’s face. “Is there a problem, Nanami?” He asks again, voice quiet and threaded with venom. 

Nanami stays hovering close until Satoru opens his eyes again. He stares at Nanami, eyes piercing. He knows what he look like when he does this. It frightens people. Nanami doesn't move, but Satoru can see the moment he backs down. 

“I don’t think it’s wise to bring a stranger into your home. I don’t care about the genitals of the person you have sex with. I do care that a man would have a better chance at physically overpowering you.”

“Heh.” Satoru lets his gaze dim, no longer threatening Nanami. “I can’t be physically overpowered, Nanami. You know I’m crazy strong. Besides, there’s nothing at my place. No files, photos, notes, nothing.

So tell me. What was so important that made you keep bugging me?” Satoru stares up at the ceiling. 

“The Zen’in Family made some moves early this morning,” Nanami explains. “We still haven’t been able to get a sighting of Toji or Naoya, but their foot soldiers are digging around.”

Satoru rubs over his shoulder, right where Suguru sucked a bruise. “It’s so weird that they’re desperate to get back a kid that they tossed out into the gutter.”

Nanami sits down in a chair perpendicular to Satoru. “Megumi-kun is their heir. Rumors have spread that Toji’s second wife is unable to bear any more children. The younger child in the Family, Maki, is a girl. You know they’re conservative and would never have a matriarch. 

“So you think they panicked after realizing they tossed their next leader and went back to get him, only to find him missing… It doesn’t add up. Toji’s not that old and Naoya’s young. Surely Naoya could marry and birth an heir. Do you think they’re just pissed because they’ve realized we got him?” 

Nanami adjusts his speckled tie. “Perhaps. It would be shameful to have a Zen’in working in the Gojo Family. He looks just like Toji, so it would be obvious.”

Satoru digs in his ear and blows the ear wax off his finger. He lifts his head and shifts forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Megumi is too young to do anything right now, so Satoru’s hidden him away with a family who have long been loyal to the Gojos, the Itadoris. They’ve got a son the same age as Megumi and were willing to take him in and raise him away from the chaos. 

But Satoru plans to use the kid as a trump card in the future. And he let the kid know it was his condition for taking him in and protecting him. Either die on the street once the vultures learn a Zen’in has been cast out or come and work for Satoru. Megumi chose Satoru. But why would the Zen’ins be trying to get him back? If that even is what they’re trying. 

Satoru stands. “Alright, let’s make a housecall.”

Nanami stands and falls into step behind him. They head out to Satoru’s car, and he sits in the back seat as Nanami drives. He fiddles with his phone for a moment before opening up a new message to Suguru. 

Satoru: Do you have class on Friday? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It takes several minutes before Suguru replies. 

Suguru: Hello. I have one class in the morning that ends at 11:00.

Satoru: Cool ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)  I’m gonna get you

Suguru: Why?

Satoru: (つ≧▽≦)つ🍰(つ≧▽≦)つ🍰(つ≧▽≦)つ🍰

Several more minutes pass. 

Suguru: Are you eating cake?

Satoru: Noooo, we will be eating cake

Satoru: ＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／ 

Suguru: On Friday? 

“Satoru-niisan, will you be exiting the vehicle?” Nanami is standing outside, holding Satoru’s door open. Satoru peers at him over his shades. Nanami stares back, face barren of expression aside from utter despair. Satoru slips out and pockets his phone, stretching his arms up above his head. His ass and lower back are sore. Thinking about it makes him horny. 

Nanami shuts the car door and steps over to the building, opening the door for Satoru. Satoru steps in, bowing to the granny at the greeter desk. Satoru thinks she might be blind and deaf because he’s never seen her do anything but sit there and smile. He steps further inside, squinting as it gets dimmer and dimmer. 

He looks around the open floor, over the various empty booths and tables, before he spots blonde hair at the bar. He walks over and raps his knuckles against it the countertop. Tsukumo turns from where she’s restocking bottles and groans at the sight of Satoru. 

“Why are you here? It’s not even business hours yet.”

Satoru grins and gives her a peace sign. “You mean you’re not excited to see me, Tsukumo? Aren’t I your favorite customer?”

“Customer my ass!” She complains. “You rarely get a table and you never buy champagne.”

“Aw, it’s not my fault I’m this beautiful. I hear it all the time, so when your cute hostesses flirt with me, it doesn't really flap my wallet.” He pokes himself in the cheek, looking cute. 

Tsukumo leans on the counter. “What do you want, Gojo?”

He drops his hand. “Zen’ins. What are they sniffing around for?”

She smiles and combs her fingers through her long hair. Nanami steps forward and sets some crisp bills on the counter. Tsukumo picks them up and fingers through them, counting. She smiles again, and Nanami sets a few more bills on the bar. 

“They’ve heard that little Megumi-chan is squirreled away in a Gojo hidey hole.”

Satoru lifts a hand, and Nanami places a few more bills on the counter. 

“Why are they looking for Megumi? They tossed him out.” Satoru asks. 

“The kid didn’t leave empty handed, he took something with him.”

Satoru almost frowns, but he stops himself just in time. Megumi didn’t say anything to him about taking something important to the Zen’ins. Did he actually? Could it have been someone else and they’re assuming it was Megumi because of the closeness in the timeline of when they noticed it missing? Or did Megumi keep a secret? Satoru nods. 

He turns to leave, throwing a hand up in a wave. “Tell your girls I said hi. Especially Peach.”

“Gojo,” Tsukumo calls, and Satoru stops, but doesn’t turn back around. “I’d check your roof, if I were you. Rainy season’s coming.”

Satoru doesn’t respond. He starts walking again, stepping back out into the bright daylight. Nanami opens the backseat door for him again, and Satoru slides onto the leather seats. Nanami walks around and gets in the driver’s seat, saying nothing until the car is back on the road. 

“I can put together a team to quietly search for the weasel who’s leaking information to the Zen’ins,” Nanami states, glancing in the rearview mirror. 

Satoru gazes out his window, head turned to the side. He taps his finger against his chin. “Get me a list of names of who you want on the team. No more than four.” He hesitates for a second before facing forward again. “None of the big brothers. Except Yaga. He’d be fine.”

Nanami grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “You think it could be one of them?”

“Who knows.” Satoru slips his hand in his pocket, fingers stroking over his phone. “Father’s not looking so hot. He might croak this year.”

“Do you truly believe they’d try to make an attempt to place one of themselves as Head? Without question, it is you,” Nanami states.

“Elders these days love to act important, and it’s so annoying, honestly.” Satoru tugs his phone out of his pocket, giving in and checking his messages. 

Suguru: I’ll be at my dorm at 11:20 on Friday. I hope the cake won’t be too sweet. 

Satoru smiles. 

He visits Megumi the next day. He’s already on the couch in the Itadori home when the boys come home from school. He’s stuffing his face with cookies baked by Kaori when Yuji throws his backpack on the floor and runs over in excitement. 

“Gojo-san!” He yells, jumping at his legs. 

Satoru scoops the little boy up and hangs him upside down. “Yuji!” He wiggles the boy in his hold, and the kid giggles, mouth open wide so the gaps where his baby teeth fell out are showing. “Uh-oh, is your smile getting even more holey? Soon you won’t have any teeth at all.”

He turns the boy right side up, and Yuji pokes at one of his gaps. “Look Gojo-san, they grow back. A new tooth grows where the other tooth fell out. So I will have teeth.” He tells Satoru earnestly, as if Satoru truly doesn’t understand how teeth work. Satoru nods and sets the boy on his knee. 

Yuji reaches for the plate of cookies, grabbing a couple. Satoru looks over at Megumi. Megumi has organized his and Yuji’s shoes in the entryway, picked up Yuji’s backpack to place it, and his own backpack, in their designated cubbies. He’s lingering there as if he can avoid Satoru. 

“Megumi-kun,” Satoru calls. “Don’t you want a cookie?” 

Megumi looks at Satoru over his shoulder, eyes surly and distrustful. Kaori steps into the room, wiping her hands on a hand towel. 

“Yuji!” Yuji stops, three cookies crammed in his mouth at once. Kaori frowns at him. “Did you wash your hands before touching those cookies?”

Yuji chomps down on the cookies faster, as if he can make them disappear. Kaori tuts and steps over, lifting the boy from Satoru’s lap. She fusses as she takes him into the kitchen. Satoru never stopped looking at Megumi, so he sees the way Megumi becomes even more tense once they leave him alone in the room with Satoru. 

Satoru stands and steps over to the boy, looming over him. The boy glares, refusing to look intimidated. 

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Satoru starts, smiling and keeping his voice light. “Since I found you in that pile of trash. You remember, don’t you? I asked you a question. About what you wanted.” Satoru squats down to be level with the kid, staring at him through his dark sunglasses. “Rot and die on the streets as a Zen’in or live and fight for me, a Gojo.”

Megumi tilts his head up a little. “I didn’t forget. I chose to live.”

Satoru nods. “That’s right Megumi. You did choose to live. But that was only one part of what you chose. You also chose me. You didn’t forget that either, right?”

Megumi’s gaze is unwavering. Satoru lifts his hand, palm up. 

“Bring me what you took.” 

For a moment, the boy looks as if he’s going to argue. Lie and say he didn’t take anything. But he deflates, lips pressing together tightly. He walks off to the bedroom he shares with Yuji before coming back. He lifts his small pudgy fist and places the object in Satoru’s hand. 

The ring is made of thick gleaming metal, and the top is circular. The Zen’in Head hanko seal stares back at Satoru. Satoru closes his fingers around it slowly. He lifts his other hand and places it on top of Megumi’s head, pressing down a little. 

Satoru laughs. “Okay. Leave the rest to me, then. You just focus on getting strong.” Satoru removes his hand and stands. 

“Do your best.”