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Another day, another exorcised curse.
On today’s menu, a grade two curse showed itself in a parking garage downtown, wreaking havoc, and throwing cars left and right. It sprouted from the concrete, splotchy purple with several gangling limbs reaching on all sides. A foul stench wafted in its wake, rotting and warping the cars it passed. A few years ago, this curse may have posed quite a problem for the local sorcerers.
Instead, the current members of the Jujutsu Tech trio were lounging on the roof using said curse as a game piece to decide who was choosing dinner that night on Gojo’s dime. Though a single one of them could have taken care of it, they all needed to blow off some steam after a long week dealing with special grade curses.
“Itadori, you’re punching too hard, you have to get it IN the circle, not past it. Haven’t you ever played horseshoes? Or cornhole maybe?” Kugisaki pointed one of the curse’s arms in the direction of the chalk circle scrawled on the ground ahead of them. She had wrenched it off of the curse a few rounds ago on accident but had been waving it around like a trophy ever since grabbing it.
Itadori pouted, shaking off the oozing slime dripping from his fist. “Aughhh, I know! This guy just shifted at the last second, my fist hit too hard.” He paused. “Cornhole? Is that a country thing? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Aren’t you the same guy who can land a Black Flash? How did you manage to get the timing off?” Kugisaki tossed the arm she was holding off to the side where it landed with a slimy plop. “All for the best, time for me to finish this and feast on delicious steak!” Spinning her hammer, she took aim with a few nails. “Okay! Here we-“
Before she could finish, Nue suddenly nosedived out of the sky, grabbing the curse with its talons. It flapped over to the circle and simply dropped the curse perfectly within the chalky line. With a screech, it looped up high in the air and dove again to slice cleanly through the curse, exorcising it in a final strike. Kugisaki fumed at the sight.
“What the hell, Fushiguro? I was about to go.”
Fushiguro stepped forward, motioning for Nue to disappear. He shrugged. “I guess it was weakened more than I thought. We must have messed around with it too long." He stopped next to hear, glancing in her direction. "Also, it was technically my turn, you just had a turn before Itadori.” Fushiguro scratched his head. “He did take a while though...”
Kugisaki groaned and looked over to Itadori who was jogging up to the two of them. She motioned to him. “Back me up here, it was totally my turn right?”
“Eh?” Itadori tilted his head, confused. “A bug flew up my nose while you guys were going so I wasn’t paying attention, I’d probably trust Fushiguro on this one.”
“Augh geez, fine.” She tucked her hammer away, dejected. Sighing, she looked back again at Fushiguro. “I feel like Gojo-sensei always lets you pick anyway. At least pick something good this time then. I’ve been DYING for a good steak lately.”
Fushiguro frowned. He couldn’t deny that Gojo was playing favorites a touch more than usual. Letting him choose where they went for dinner, bringing him gifts, giving him the pick of whatever curses he wanted to exorcise. Things had been weird for a few months now, and Fushiguro knew exactly why.
A few months ago in a haze of emotions and bad decisions after finishing a particularly rough mission, the two of them had ended up fucking in the messiest way possible. Yelling, breaking down, crying, and fucking. The weirdest emotional rollercoaster he'd ever been on. And of course, Gojo, being a sane human being that doesn't want to shack up with an emotional mess, cut the cord and split afterward.
“This was fun, but...we probably shouldn’t have done this.”
Gojo’s words rang through his memory again as he shook the thought from his head. So Gojo turned him down, whatever. Fushiguro didn’t need to be told twice. So on that day he got out of bed past Gojo, cut the small talk, moved on from whatever it was that happened between them that day, and proceeded to actively avoid him if at all possible. He didn’t have to necessarily sleep with Gojo anyway; there were plenty of other eligible bachelors. Things were awkward as fuck between the two of them, and he was sure that playing favorites was just Gojo’s weird way of making up for it. Playing favorites, being needlessly touchy, and overly nice. It was almost certainly all related.
As if on cue, Gojo dropped onto the roof, startling Kugisaki and Itadori when he placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Yo! All finished?”
Looking at Gojo, Fushiguro tensed slightly.
“We exorcised the curse, yes,” Fushiguro reported, averting his eyes out of habit. He knew he was making a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be, but the two of them still hadn't talked since their impromptu hookup. Part of him hoped that Gojo was doing him a favor by pretending he never saw the sorry sight that was Fushiguro having a life crisis after a near-death experience.
As he looked away, he noticed a few bags hanging off of Gojo’s arms and frowned. “Souvenir shopping again? Haven’t you been through this area combing the shops multiple times by now?”
Gojo beamed, pulling out one of the bags and dangling it in front of Fushiguro’s face. “Oh!! Don’t be mistaken Megumi, this one is extra special. I picked up some hakuto jelly this time. It wasn’t in season before so I just had to pick some up once I saw it advertised on my way over. I also...” he dug around in the bag and pulled another, smaller bag from inside. “...picked up some ginger rice pudding. I thought you might like some.”
Fushiguro pushed the bag away from his face, irritated. “I don’t really like sweets.” He knew Gojo well enough to know that he was just trying to pawn off extras that he had picked up unintentionally while shopping. Though Fushiguro liked ginger, he wasn't a huge fan of rice pudding. Looking back, he caught Gojo’s smile falter slightly.
“But...I’ll try them, thanks for thinking of me,“ he added, relaxing when he saw Gojo light up quickly again without missing a beat.
Fushiguro continued, "I hope you didn’t spend all of your money then, you’re still on the hook for our dinner.”
“Of course! I couldn’t possibly miss out on dinner with my favorite students.” He said, tucking away the bags of dessert behind him. He then ruffled Fushiguro’s hair, prompting him to bat away his hand. Ruffling his hair wasn't a new thing at least. Gojo always, annoyingly, did that.
“Gojo-sensei, I thought we were your only students,” Itadori chimed. Itadori was right. After their first year, the higher-ups stopped letting Gojo take first or second years because he was, ‘corrupting the jujutsu youth’, or so they say. Fair point, being that Gojo had railed him six months earlier while Fushiguro was high on survivor's guilt, sobbing, and emotionally unhinged.
Gojo snapped his fingers. “Not important! So...” Dodging the question, he faced the other two, gesturing to the group. “Have we decided what’s for dinner?”
Kugisaki and Itadori turned to Fushiguro, awaiting a response. Fushiguro stared at the ground, shaking his prior thoughts away from his mind. Thinking, he tried to focus on food while the other three sorcerers waited impatiently.
The only thing that came to mind was the restaurant Gojo had taken him to a few days prior to the mission that led to Disaster Date. Clearly trying to win Fushiguro's good graces, Gojo had taken him to an Indian restaurant where they were showcasing a collection of curry recipes featuring ginger. “Curry sounds good...” He muttered, still contemplating his choices.
“Curry??” Itadori and Kugisaki echoed dejectedly before slumping in disappointment. He turned to them, confused.
“Isn’t the whole point of someone else paying to get something you wouldn’t normally eat? Like, something you normally couldn’t afford?” Kugisaki bargained.
“Right, right, wouldn’t it be a better idea to get something expensive? Like high-end sushi?” Itadori added.
Fushiguro crossed his arms. “Well, I was just thinking about it.”
Well, spite IS the best motivator.
"Yeah, let's do curry then. I've got a good craving for it," Fushiguro said, watching the other two shrink with disappointment.
Gojo laughed, patting Fushiguro on the shoulder while the other two moped. “How thoughtful, Megumi! My wallet thanks you.” His fingers reached around to thread lightly through a few hairs at the base of Fushiguro’s neck. Fushiguro froze. Like muscle memory guiding his thoughts, he shivered thinking of Gojo grabbing his hair the last time.
...kneeled on the floor, wet, sloppy sounds in the air. A rough hand grabbing through his hair, pulling his head back, Fushiguro dripping spit, coughing, panting. Tear-soaked cheeks and puffy-eyes, glazed over in a trance.
“Oh wow, you really enjoyed that, huh? Like it when I’m a little rougher?”
Fushiguro ducked his head slightly to pull away, pushing his thoughts as far back into his mind as they could go. Though he enjoyed himself greatly at the time, thinking back on how absolutely shameless the entire situation was made him want to hitch a ride with Nue and fly into the sunset. In the past week or so, Gojo had been getting more handsy and it running on thin ice with Fushiguro's patience. Hands on the nape of his neck, a casual hand wrapped around his waist, pressing close against him while sitting on the train, whispering in his ear far too close for comfort. He took a deep breath, readjusting himself.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he responded, already annoyed.
—-
The three found their way to the Indian restaurant from Fushiguro's memory. True to Fushiguro’s word, looked much more expensive than Itadori and Kugisaki had expected from him. The inside of the restaurant was furnished with luxurious red and brown fabrics accented by gold. Several waiters bustled in and out through doors, sizzling meals moving in every direction. Strikingly, many large, authentic, paintings hung from the walls with intricate designs bright pigment. The four of them sat at a table below a painting of the Taj Mahal that was ornamented heavily in gold leaf.
“I didn’t even know this restaurant was here.” Itadori said to Fushiguro as he marveled at the decor around him. A waiter came by, filling their cups with fresh water.
“I’ve been here a few times, but it’s been a while since I last came. I almost forgot about this place too.” Fushiguro answered, catching Gojo looking at him. He wondered if Gojo remembered that the last time Fushiguro had been here was with him. He realized stupidly that, of course Gojo would remember. Gojo is the only person in the group that can afford to eat at a place like this. Don't think about it.
He ordered a fairly simple ginger and lamb curry, a favorite from the last time he had visited. He wasn't terribly hungry, though Kugisaki and Itadori took the rare opportunity to order as many dishes as seemingly possible. By the time the food came, their side of the table was piled high with several curries, grilled meats, breads, and appetizers of all sorts. The staff had to pull out a second table just to hold the extra plates that arrived to the table. In contrast, Fushiguro and Gojo’s side of the table seemed practically barren.
As Fushiguro was observing the sheer size of the buffet that the other two had ordered, He caught Gojo out of the corner of his eye swiftly reaching across the table to stab his fork into a vegetable sticking out of the rice on Fushiguro's plate. Fushiguro blocked it with his own fork at lightning speed and looked questioningly at Gojo.
“What are you doing.” He eyed Gojo suspiciously, waiting for a response. Instead of answering, Gojo promptly knocked away Megumi’s fork with his own and plucked a bright red vegetable out of the curry. He popped it into his mouth.
“Eating some of your bell peppers,” he responded, grinning. “You don’t like them anyway, right?”
Ignoring that he was mildly impressed that Gojo remembered, he sighed and pushed a few more peppers from his dish off to the side for him to take.
“Fine, you can take them.” Fushiguro acquiesced before moving to take another bite. There was a juicy piece of lamb that he had his eye on. As he brought it to his mouth, Gojo’s fork darted out again to knock it off and steal it. Fushiguro reached out to grab Gojo’s hand and missed. “Wha-! Stop taking my food, eat your own!”
Gojo chomped down on the chunk of marinated lamb he had just snatched and hummed in contentment. “I can’t help myself!” Gojo said, putting his hands up in defense. “Yours is better than mine.”
“Fine, then I’m going to take some of yours.” Feeling vengeful, Fushiguro leaned across the table and stabbed through a plump chicken thigh on Gojo’s plate before placing it on his own. Almost instantaneously, the chicken disappeared and reappeared on Gojo’s side of the table. “Hey!” Fushiguro complained weakly.
“Nooo you can’t take the chicken, I still want that. Why don’t you order something else?”
“I don’t want to order something else. I also don’t want you taking more of my food,” he added swatting away Gojo’s fork again that was aiming for a potato instead of one of the many peppers he had placed on the side. Fushiguro responded by stealing a tomato from Gojo’s plate. They comically traded back and forth like this for a while until Gojo laughed and gave up.
“So nothing I can do here to trade for bites of your food?”
“No,” Fushiguro responded, holding back a smile and taking a sip from his glass of water. This was nice, they hadn’t interacted like this in a while. This was probably the first time in a while that things felt a little more comfortable between them and a little less serious. Maybe things didn't need to be as weird as Fushiguro was making them out to be.
Gojo hummed thoughtfully and leaned over, grazing Fushiguro’s hand on the table. In a hushed voice, he offered, “I could do something very nice for you later tonight instead.”
Fushiguro sputtered on a sip of water he was taking, feeling his face heat up at the comment. Unwillingly, his mind wandered to more moments from their last encounter that had peacefully been laid to rest until now.
...sweating, panting, pressed into the mattress, lips sliding against each other, pulling apart, breathing heavy. “Stay just like this and I’ll do something very nice for you.”
Finger trailing down the chest, over the hips, slipping inside-
In an unfortunate scene, the startled motion caused water to splashback and soak the front of his hair. Gojo seized the opportunity to grab another bite off of his plate, smiling to himself.
“Oh shit!” Itadori burst out laughing between mouthfuls of food. “Fushiguro, you got water everywhere, what happened man?”
Kugisaki joined in laughing, motioning at Itadori. “Hey, hey, doesn’t he come off as like a wet dog right now?” Their laughter amplified with her comment.
“Shut up, mind your own business.” Embarrassed, but thankful they hadn’t heard Gojo, he waved them off. Gojo, sly as a weasel, was innocently grinning while nudging his foot against Fushiguro’s leg under the table. Still mentally reeling, Fushiguro tried stepping on his toes for good measure but was unsuccessful, forgetting that Gojo always had his limitless technique active. He groaned, annoyed. In a final act of spite, he stabbed a smaller piece of chicken from Gojo’s plate and swallowed it whole. Looking up, his irritation grew seeing that it just made Gojo grin even more than before. Playful bastard.
—-
As they headed back to the dorms, Kugisaki broke off from the group first to retreat to her room further away from the boys. As they walked closer to the porch of the other rooms, Itadori stretched and yawned, dragging his feet.
“Thanks for the food, Gojo-sensei!! I haven’t eaten that much in ages. I'm just disappointed I wasn't able to make a bigger dent in your wallet,” Itadori joked, nudging Gojo. After a short wave goodbye, Itadori retreated into his own room for the night, leaving behind Fushiguro and Gojo by themselves.
Left to themselves, Fushiguro stood unmoving next to Gojo. He eyed his room close by but hesitated to go towards it, unsure if he should leave or not. After a few awkward seconds passed, Gojo broke the silence. He turned towards him, placing a hand lightly on Fushiguro’s shoulder. He moved to thread his fingers through Fushiguro’s hair again, but stopped and lifted his hand away. He sighed instead.
“Well I think it’s time for me to get going. Early to bed, early to rise, you know?” He passed the bag with the ginger rice pudding into Fushiguro’s hand and stepped away in the other direction ready to leave. “Have a good night, Megu-“
“Wait.”
He stopped, peering over his shoulder to see Fushiguro shifting uncomfortably, staring at the ground. Fushiguro’s hands patted nervously at his sides before settling into his pockets. The touching was one thing, the odd favoritism another, but whatever that shit was just now? Something weird was going on. He frowned, failing to find the words to address the glaring elephant in the room.
“Yes?”
Shifting his feet and trying to make himself seem as casual and aloof as possible, Fushiguro looked off to the side and started, “I...” Then silence. Excellent start, going great. He mentally slapped himself.
“Hm?” Gojo tilted his head, innocently.
Fushiguro stopped and took a breath, catching himself and thinking on his next words. Things had been so fucking weird tonight and something had to be said. Walking away for the night without clearing the air between them was officially off the table. Where to even start? He furrowed his brows, wracking his brain for ideas.
Why have you been so nice to me lately? Why have you been touching me so much? Are we still not going to talk about how I cried in your arms and somehow that led to you fucking me into a wall? Why have you not said a single thing about that night for six months?
Betraying his better sense to say something of actual value to the solution, Fushiguro muttered under his breath, “are you...not going to come over tonight?” He winced, internally cursing himself at how much more uselessly direct his thoughts came out sounding “I mean,” he back-tracked, trying to recover. “You said you wanted to do something later.” Nailed it. Great job.
Gojo looked at him with an emotion somewhere between surprise and curiosity. Instead of responding to Fushiguro's half-assed attempt at conversation, he laughed. Fushiguro instantly wanted to retreat to the shadows and disappear into oblivion with his shikigami.
“I suppose I said something like that, yeah.” Gojo stepped closer, leaning down. He lifted his blindfold slightly, meeting Fushiguro’s eyes with his impossibly blue iris. His feather-like white eyelashes lowered. “Did you want me to come over?”
Still confused by Gojo's words, Fushiguro stood tight-lipped, averting his gaze. Desperately trying to look as nonchalant as possible and spectacularly failing, he responded, “I thought you said we weren’t doing that again.” Was that a voice crack? Fuck.
Gojo blinked. “What?”
“Wha-“ Fushiguro’s composure broke. “What do you mean ‘what’? That time, you know the time I almost died, had an embarrassing meltdown in your general vicinity, took your dick up my ass, and then you proceeded to tell me that you didn’t want to do it again?” He was so confused. Isn't that why they were dodging each other like the plague? At least his grievances came out a little more direct this time.
“You thought...” Gojo responded before outright laughing. “That’s why you were avoiding me, oh wow." He put his hands on his knees bending over to snort with laughter. "Ahh Megumi, you’re so unbelievably cute!
Fushiguro’s face turned red, “what was I supposed to think, you literally told me-“
“I was saying," Gojo cut him off, thumping his fist gently on Fushiguro's head. "I was saying we shouldn’t have done that because we had a new assistant moving in upstairs that night. The poor guy probably heard us fucking all night. You kicked me out before I could finish telling you so I assumed you were just embarrassed." He shrugged, "Needless to say, the assistant we hired moved to a new room quickly afterwards ehehe."
Looking and feeling red as a tomato, Fushiguro stared wordlessly as Gojo huffed out a few last chuckles. He turned to Fushiguro.
“Megumi.”
He leaned down and tilted Fushiguro’s chin upward, placing light, feathery kisses on both of his red cheeks before pressing their lips together. Fushiguro pulled away, still cautiously observing Gojo.
"So I didn't scare you off or anything then?" Fushiguro asked, feeling hands reach down his sides and settling on his hips, pulling him closer.
“What? For crying? How long have I known you? I don't care about that at all." Gojo reached down, cupping Fushiguro's face to look into his eyes. " Megumi, you were amazing. Of course I want to fuck you again.”
Still embarrassed, but feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, Fushiguro let out a sigh of relief and slumped against Gojo, exhausted by the circles they had been running in for months. The older man pulled Fushiguro in close, holding him tight to his chest to comfort him.
“Megumi,” Gojo started, running his hand through Fushiguro’s hair, combing through it softly. “Can you indulge me, and ask again cutely like you did before?”
“Absolutely fucking not.” He pushed himself away from Gojo, turning on his heel and walking back towards his room. Gojo followed behind him, laughing as they walked.
—-
Sliding the door and stepping into the cramped dorm room, the two of them carefully placed their bags on the floor. Fushiguro eyed the bag Gojo had given him.
“Seriously what was up with the rice pudding though, it’s not like you to go out of your way to give me something like that.”
Stepping out of his shoes, Gojo looked over at the bag. “Oh. I really just thought you might like it.”
Fushiguro sighed. “Let me guess, the cashier gave it to you for free as a gift so you were trying to pawn it off on me.”
“Ehh...was it that obvious?” Gojo looked guilty though he undoubtedly felt no shame.
“Easy enough to guess, knowing you.”
“I really did think of you first!” Gojo said, weakly defending himself. “I remembered you like ginger so I figured I may as well give it to you...” He stepped towards Fushiguro, pulling him in by the hip and pressing close. He pulled down his blindfold around his neck to meet Fushiguro’s eyes with his own. “Or maybe, I was really just trying to win you over.”
“Now you’re talking out your ass,” Fushiguro said, not buying it for a second. Instead of pulling away, he leaned up to press his lips against Gojo’s, pushing him back up and against the wall behind them. The kiss was angrier than their first, Fushiguro letting himself feel vindictive after having felt foolish from earlier. He bit at Gojo’s bottom lip in annoyance but found himself soon struggling to keep up as Gojo bit harder and ravaged his mouth in return. He pulled away, panting, feeling his head spinning.
“So you’re going to start something like that and give up? I thought I taught you better than that,” Gojo taunted.
Feeling the challenge, Fushiguro pressed back into the kiss, finding the rhythm and matching Gojo’s intensity. They groaned into each other, sucking at each other’s lips, tongues licking, dipping, pressing, a blurry haze between them. Gojo worked his hands into Fushiguro’s hair, pressing them closer and deeper. Feeling rebellious, Fushiguro nipped at Gojo’s lip again, swiping his tongue over it and licking back into Gojo’s mouth. Suddenly his head jerked, his action earning him a rough tug of his hair down and back. Gojo kissed into his throat, eliciting a quiet gasp as he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot. He kissed up to hover over Fushiguro’s ear.
“It’s cute that you think you can pull that shit with me. Don’t you want me to be nice? I can be rough too if that’s what you want.”
Fushiguro closed his eyes, groaned, needy and hot, feeling the words reverberate through him. He braced himself, waiting for Gojo to continue teasing down his neck, but felt nothing. He paused and then opened his eyes, confused. Gojo was watching him carefully with heavy-lidded bright blue eyes.
“That was an actual question, you know,” Gojo offered. “Do you want me to be gentle or rough?”
“Uh...” Fushiguro paused. They hadn’t necessarily been rough the last time. Gojo also hadn’t necessarily been gentle either, clawing at his thighs and rocking roughly into him. Having no reasonable comparison, Fushiguro didn’t know what the correct answer was here.
Gojo sensed his apprehension and smiled. “Okay, okay, I’ll start gentle and you tell me if you want more.” He placed soft kisses up Fushiguro’s neck and up along his jawline. Relaxing his grip in Fushiguro’s hair, he kissed up further until their lips met again. This time was far less forceful, Gojo’s lips moving intentionally slow against him.
Guiding him steadily, Gojo pushed him along stepping across the floor until the back of his legs met the bed. He slid a hand under Fushiguro’s shirt, running smooth fingers along his torso. His hand slid upwards towards Fushiguro’s collarbone, pushing up lightly at the fabric. He kissed down from Fushiguro’s mouth, murmuring into his chin.
“Take this off.”
“Why don’t you take it off for me?” Fushiguro pressed.
Gojo smiled, teasingly licking down his neck. “I don’t know, are you asking me to?”
“Yeah.”
Needing no further affirmation, Gojo pushed Fushiguro abruptly down with his back to the bed. With a soft “oof” Fushiguro caught his breath momentarily before Gojo yanked at his shirt, pulling it off with little resistance. He took a minute to admire the scars and blemishes of previous fights littered down Fushiguro’s chest, all the marks that proved how hard he had fought to survive. His fingers trailed over a particular scar covering his rib cage. It was one that was fresh the last time they had fucked, still healing, red and puffy. Now it was nicely healed, lightening to a white line across skin.
He danced his fingers on Fushiguro’s chest a few seconds more before swiftly raking his fingers down, hearing an unfiltered gasp in response to the sudden, sharp sensation. Gojo trailed his fingers down until they met the edge of Fushiguro’s jeans. He curled his fingers into the waistband.
“Better, Megumi?” Gojo peered at Fushiguro, awaiting a response. Fushiguro breathlessly nodded, still wrangling with the sensations. Gojo shook his head.
“You’re going to have to be more vocal with me, Megumi.” He tugged down slightly on Fushiguro’s waistband, watching the tent in his pants rise below. “Otherwise I won’t be able to fuck you exactly how you want it. I like you being direct.” He leaned over close to his face. “You didn’t have a problem last time at least. Seemed like you had quite a lot to say.”
Fushiguro sucked in a breath, remembering the way he begged the last time;
desperate, face red and pressed against Gojo’s thigh, rubbing his cock, wanting so much to...
“Let me suck your cock."
He remembered how good it felt, a hand in his hair, Gojo praising him, being able to move his mouth in a way that had Gojo softly moaning gripping tighter.
“I want to suck your cock again,” Fushiguro said, preoccupied with his memories of the last time.
Gojo beamed, excited. “Oh wow! You really liked that list time, huh? Who knew you’d get off so much at having my cock down your throat?” He pulled off his shirt smoothly, exposing his muscled torso beneath. Not a single bruise or scar marred his skin anywhere in sight. Another perk of the infinity technique.
“Ugh, that's not fair,” Fushiguro noted, envious of the lack of scars. Gojo laughed.
“It might not be fair, but at least you get to enjoy it, yeah?” He picked up Fushiguro’s hand, kissing each digit gently. He placed the hand on his chest, inviting Fushiguro to explore the curves and muscles there himself. Slowly, he guided the hand down his chest until it dragged across his waistband and onto his crotch where Fushiguro felt him hard under the fabric.
“Go for it,” Gojo prompted.
Sitting up fully, Fushiguro unbuttoned Gojo’s pants, sliding the zipper down and revealing his length. Gojo's cock was already half-hard, the tip glimmering with pre-cum. Fushiguro admired it hazily before furrowing his brow.
“No underwear?” Fushiguro asked.
“Infinity, don’t need ‘em,” Gojo wagged his finger in the air.
“Do you really go on dates with women without any underwear? Wouldn’t they say something?”
“Sure, but I’ll usually wear them for most dates with women,” Gojo replied. “Men don’t seem to much care. I didn’t wear any last time with you, remember?”
Fushiguro thought for a second, absently stroking Gojo’s cock with his hand. “I suppose you’re right.” He brought it to his mouth, licking around the tip before deep throating as much of it as he could, gagging slightly.
“Woah!” Gojo jumped at the sensation, fisting his hand into Fushiguro’s hair. “Slow down, you can take your time.”
“Mn—ng” Fushiguro mouthed, before pulling off. “Sorry, I just wanted to.”
He paused, feeling the hand in his hair and thinking back to the last time he did this. “...You can be a little rough with me here.”
“Sure,” Gojo grinned, pulling Fushiguro’s head back roughly, pulling tight at the scalp, watching him gasp and giving him just enough time to breathe before shoving his head back down to fill his mouth. Fushiguro grunted, resisting slightly against the hand pushing him down before adjusting himself and relaxing into the position.
“Good boy,” Gojo coaxed, watching Fushiguro flush, taking him deeper into his mouth, encouraged by the praise. Swallowing down and going too deep, he choked, forcing himself to pull off Gojo, coughing and gasping helplessly for air. Gojo stroked his cheek, sliding a thumb into Fushiguro’s mouth to part it. He watched carefully as Fushiguro looked up at him with still defiant yet glazed eyes, waiting. “Megumi, you’re so cute when you gag for me like this. Seeing you get this excited sucking my cock is pretty amazing.”
Gojo guided Fushiguro back onto his cock, easing his grip and letting him work his mouth at his own pace in whatever way he liked. Fushiguro’s hands joined his mouth to work the length, stroking from Gojo’s thighs, across his balls, and up his shaft to wrap around the head. He sucked around his fingers, alternating between tight and loose sensations, gauging his pressure and motions from Gojo’s reactions. Gojo groaned, thrusting his hips deeper into Fushiguro’s mouth.
“Oi, seems like someone’s been teaching you new tricks,” Gojo sighed, feeling Fushiguro wrap his mouth completely down and around his cock.
Fushiguro tried to say something with his mouth full but pulled off to cough out a response. “One of the second years showed me. Aiko, the one from Kyoto. I think you’ve met her.”
Gojo laughed, surprised. “Really? No way, I thought you were only interested in men.”
Fushiguro licked from the base of his cock slowly to the tip, before heatedly glancing up to meet Gojo’s eyes. “I never said I slept with her,” he said. He took the head back into his mouth and sucked it avidly, spit dripping from his chin and down Gojo’s shaft.
“Good,” Gojo replied, pleased. “You’re my favorite, I want to keep you to myself.” That earned a chuckle from Fushiguro, his mouth still covering Gojo’s cock. He pulled off and wiped his mouth, pumping Gojo’s shaft with his hand instead.
“Are you seriously jealous? I slept with Itadori once too.” He eyed Gojo, scoping his reaction. “How do you think I knew that position last time when I was riding you on top?”
Gojo paused, giving Fushiguro a moment of satisfaction at ruffling his feathers. However, his moment was quickly ruined as Gojo bent down, grabbed his legs, and pushed him back onto the bed, moving him into a far more awkward, compromising position. Gojo leaned in and bit the inside of Fushiguro’s thigh hard through the fabric, hearing Fushiguro hissing from the sudden pain. Gojo moved his fingers to unbutton Fushiguro’s pants, pulling them down.
“Maybe I am jealous. I want you all to myself, after all.” He kissed up Fushiguro’s thigh, pressing his legs into a tighter, more uncomfortable position with each kiss. “I should have been clearer the last time before I let you go running off.” Pulling Fushiguro’s pants off, he continued licking and kissing his hips and thighs.
Continuing like this for a while, Fushiguro was painfully hard, silently concentrating as Gojo worked his lower half relentlessly. His legs were still uncomfortably tight, pressed back against his chest, as Gojo mapped red marks across his thighs with bites and bruising kisses. Silence etched on for a while, making Gojo take notice.
“You’re going quiet on me,” he said, grabbing tight around Fushiguro’s cock. A needy moan escaped Fushiguro’s lips in response. Gojo continued, “what do you want?”
Fushiguro draped an arm over his face, feeling his skin turn red. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to outright say it. “I want you to fuck me.”
Gojo hummed happily, kissing the tip of Fushiguro’s cock. “Already? Megumi, you’re so cute when you beg.” He leaned over into the bedside table, pulling out a bottle. It was nearly empty.
“What is this?” He taunted mockingly. “Megumi, how many people do you have to be fucking to get this so close to being empty? This was nearly full the last time I was here” He placed some of the gel on his fingers, rubbing it warm.
Fushiguro’s eyes snapped open, “That’s-!” He was cut off as a finger entered him below, flaring all if his senses. He gasped, tightening around Gojo’s finger. Gojo moved gently inside, allowing Fushiguro to adjust. Relaxing into it, he continued, “I’ve only slept with 2 people here other than you,” he looked away, embarrassed to finish his thought, unable to meet Gojo’s eyes.
“So how did you use this much, ended up going for some marathons with these two lucky fellows?” He added a second finger, moving to press against Fushiguro’s prostate to distract from the stretch.
“Ah! It’s...” Fushigurou panted, starting to move his hips with the fingers probing inside. “I just used it for myself-ah!” Gojo massaged his fingers into Fushiguro’s prostate, leaning over him excitedly.
“Really? Really?! no way!! So you’ve used this much just fingering yourself?” Fushiguro’s red-faced silence spoke volumes. Gojo scissored his fingers inside, laughing and relishing the myriad of expressions dancing across Fushiguro’s face from embarrassment and pleasure. “No wonder my fingers are moving inside of you so easily. You’ve been practicing while I’ve been gone, how sweet. Did you want another finger?”
Fushiguro groaned in annoyance, tossing an irritated look at Gojo. “Just fuck me already, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yes sir,” Gojo replied, sliding his fingers out and coating the rest of the gel around his cock. He positioned himself at Fushiguro’s entrance, pressing in slowly. Halfway in, Fushiguro was panting heavily, straining to take all of it in.
“Slow down?” Gojo offered, checking for a response.
“No,” Fushiguro breathed. “Just keep going. It’s better once you start moving.”
Gojo leaned down to kiss Fushiguro’s cheek. He pushed forward, pressing the rest of his cock inside, pausing, watching Fushiguro wince. Before he could ask, Fushiguro grabbed his face, shoved his tongue in for a deep kiss and growled at Gojo, “don’t say it, just start moving your hips already.”
“Rough it is, then,” Gojo pulled out slowly before jerking his hips forward roughly, watching Fushiguro cry out. He continued in this snapping motion a few times, watching Fushiguro desperately trying to adjust to the sensation, clawing at the sheets trying to get a hold. Noticing Fushiguro’s voice growing louder with each thrust, Gojo pressed a hand down against his mouth to muffle him as his hips picked up a faster, steadier speed.
“I forgot how vocal you get when I’m inside you! Careful, you’re gonna wake the whole compound if you don’t quiet down. Can’t afford to lose any more assistants,” Gojo said teasingly. He pulled out fully, watching Fushiguro’s breath shake, chest heaving. Readjusting himself, he pulled Fushiguro up into a position closer to sitting and spread his cheeks open to guide his cock back inside. “Bite my shoulder, you’ll be quieter that way.”
Less than a second after the instruction, Gojo thrust up inside, causing Fushiguro to gasp and cling his arms around Gojo’s neck. He sunk his teeth into Gojo’s shoulder, muffled cries filling the room. He could feel Fushiguro’s cock hard, rubbing against his chest, and he soon noticed Fushiguro moving his hips to pull more friction around it, his arousal climbing to its peak.
Realizing Fushiguro’s intent, Gojo pulled their chests away from each other. “Oh no Megumi, you can’t cum yet, I’m not close enough. You have to wait.” He leaned back, unwrapping Fushiguros hands from around his shoulders, lacing their fingers together on both sides. Pulling their hands to the side, Fushiguro was pinned into a position that left him without much extra friction as Gojo continued pressing deep inside him.
“Ha...fuck, Gojo I need to cum,” Fushiguro pleaded, trapped.
“I like it better when you beg for it,” Gojo teased, holding his hands trapped still. He pushed deep at a good angle that had Fushiguro choking out something close to a sob.
“Fuck, please let me cum,” Fushiguro panted out.
Regardless of whether Fushiguro begged or not, Gojo was also on the brink of no return. He gladly obliged, pulling them close together and maneuvering his hand between them, stroking Fushiguro as he reached his peak.
Grunting, Gojo came first, gripping tight onto Fushiguro. Though he was spent, he pushed himself to thrust a few more times moving to grind up against Fushiguro’s prostate. In seconds, Fushiguro was cumming, clinging desperately around Gojo’s shoulders again, riding it out in waves as he stuttered his hips in Gojo’s lap. Both of them sweating, panting heavily, they peeled themselves apart from each other and splayed out on the bed.
Fushiguro looked at his own chest, covered in cum, before glancing up at Gojo. Not only was the older man’s chest completely devoid of any drops of cum, but the place where Fushiguro had supposedly sunk his teeth into his shoulder was free of any marks. He frowned, annoyed.
“Infinity,” Gojo said, reading Fushiguro’s expression.
“And you couldn’t have just used it for me?” Fushiguro asked.
“Well, no. I like seeing you like this,” Gojo eyed Fushiguro’s body from top to bottom. “It’s quite a good look on you Megumi.”
Fushiguro sat up, aiming to shove Gojo off the bed, but missed, shakily kneeling on his thighs instead. His legs soon gave out, toppling him over the edge of the bed and adding to Gojo’s merriment instead.
“Hmm...” Gojo thought aloud, staring at the wall next to them.
“What?” Fushiguro asked from the floor, following Gojo’s line of sight.
“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” Gojo said
Fushiguro looked at him, bewildered. “What??”
Gojo put up his hands in defense. “Oh! Not like that. I mean.” He gestured towards the wall. “Yuuji has been awake this whole time.”
“You’re an asshole,” Fushiguro said, fliging a pillow in his direction and climbing back into bed. Gojo laughed, climbing in after him.
“I’ve heard that before, yes.”
Gojo slotted himself close behind Fushiguro, looping an arm around his waist. Fushiguro shifted, confused.
“Are you planning on staying?” He asked Gojo over his shoulder.
Gojo pressed his face into the crook of Fushiguro’s neck, curling his arm around tighter. “It would be rather rude if I didn’t,” he said.
“You left the last time,” Fushiguro said.
“I mean, you basically kicked me out before I could say anything last time, let alone stay the night,” Gojo replied. “Pretty rude of you if you ask me.”
Fushiguro shrugged him off. In response, Gojo pinched Fushiguro’s hip, earning a smack from Fushiguro’s hand.
“Ow! Okay, I didn’t stay because you didn’t want me to stay.” He ran his fingers down Fushiguro’s side, stopping to lace his fingers into Fushiguro’s resting hand. “Do you want me to stay Megumi?”
“Yeah,” Fushiguro said, thinking.
“Well, then I’ll stay.”
Eyes and limbs heavy from sex, Fushiguro drifted off to sleep first, Gojo following en suite. The room was soon silent except for a ticking clock on the nightstand and the soft snores coming from the two men in bed.
—-
The next morning, Fushiguro stepped outside his room, looking over to see Itadori exiting his own room from the other end of the hall. Itadori looked over, mumbled a sad excuse of a story about where he was going and why, and took off across the compound before Fushiguro could get a word in. He groaned, mildly embarrassed and irritated at the man currently lounging in his bed like he owned the place. At some point, his blindfold had also been placed back over his eyes. He looked up at Fushiguro, tilting his head, confused.
“Yes?”
Fushiguro pointed out the door, glaring. “You did this. Now I have to deal with Itadori avoiding the hell out of me.”
Gojo laughed unapologetically, standing up out of bed and stretching. He paced over to Fushiguro, running a hand along his shoulder, and threading his fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “Eh, he’ll get used to it.”