Archive of Our Own

A bead of sweat rolls down Satoru’s back, and he resists the urge to press his glass against his forehead. The glass is sweating too, in the stifling Tokyo summer heat, and it would just get his skin wet. Annoying. He slides his wrist up against it instead and looks out over the city, the bright lights blurring as he blinks. 

He’s not really listening to the girl standing next to him, and honestly, he can’t remember her name. Like, she definitely said it. She might have even said it twice. Satoru’s shit with names, usually has Suguru to nudge him and murmur the correct one in his ear. But they’re out tonight, at the bar with their friends, and Suguru’s across the terrace talking to a pretty man with short dark hair and delicate features, so Satoru’s stuck with no-name girl. It was something kinda common…Mai? Ayaka?

She’s not bad-looking, is the thing. She’s got long, black hair tied half up, a stack of silvery piercings up her left ear, and an industrial in her right. When she shifts, he can see the outline of a nipple ring under her thin shirt. Satoru’s for sure into that kind of thing. As she talks, her full lips move around the words, which are probably interesting, if Satoru was listening. He’s just not listening. Because across the terrace, Suguru’s leaning into the dark-haired man, and that’s annoying, since Suguru promised they could go get ramen at the end of the night. They can’t go get ramen at the end of the night if Suguru’s going to bring a guy home. And Satoru’s fucking starving. So it’s annoying. 

“...so yeah, that’s why I moved to Tokyo, and I’ve just been, you know, trying to meet people,” says the girl, looking up at him through long lashes. “I’d love to get to know you a little better.” She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, girlish and coy.

Satoru’s not looking at her, though, because he’s still looking across the bar at Suguru. Absent-mindedly, he pats the girl on the head. “Right, good to meet you, Misaki,” he says, brushing past her to walk towards his best friend.

“That’s not my fucking –” the girl starts, but Satoru’s already not listening. Like. He’s been not listening. Lost cause.

Suguru’s sort of in a corner and he’s got the dark-haired man backed up against the wall, one arm planted next to his head. He’s looking down at the man in front of him, half a smirk on his face, and Satoru can only imagine what kind of game he’s spitting. Suguru fucking pulls. Satoru’s not at all surprised about it; Suguru’s the most physically beautiful person Satoru has ever seen in real life and he’s darkly funny and his voice goes low and mesmerizing sometimes, makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room or maybe the world or whatever. Satoru can see how that would be, like, hot. If you were a gay man. Who was into other men. Satoru’s into women, though, so it’s not super relevant to him. 

He sidles up next to Suguru and gives his bun a tug, loosening it almost enough to fall out but not quite. The man Suguru’s hitting on gives Satoru a dirty look, but a smug little thing flips around in Satoru’s stomach when Suguru straightens up and turns to Satoru with a soft smile.

“I know, I know,” he says, before Satoru can even open his mouth. “Give me a minute, yeah? Go wait outside.”

And Satoru’s good at following directions, at least when Suguru’s the one giving them, so he shoots a self-satisfied look at the other man, turns on his heel, and downs the rest of his drink as he walks out of the bar. 

He’s leaning up against the side of the building when Suguru walks out, hands in his pockets and an unlit cigarette already in his mouth. Satoru digs around in his own pockets for the lighter he’s taken to keeping on hand; smoking’s a nasty habit but both Shoko and Suguru do it, and even Utahime if the students have been stressing her out enough. It just makes sense to carry one. It’s got nothing at all to do with the platonic little twisty thing that happens in his stomach when Suguru bends down, cupping his hand around the flame and leaning into Satoru to light up. Everyone gets a feeling like that when they do something nice for a friend. Like, okay, maybe it doesn’t happen when he holds the lighter for Shoko, but that’s just because…well, he can’t think of a reason. But there definitely is one, because he definitely feels the exact same platonic feelings for Suguru that he does for Shoko. Just, like, maybe a little bit more of them for Suguru. On account of the best friends and roommates thing, or whatever.

Suguru’s happy to let Satoru chatter away as they walk to their favorite ramen spot. The night air is still warm, still sticky, and Satoru can feel the sweat on Suguru’s skin when their arms bump together. He doesn’t move away. There are worse things in the world than his best friend’s damp bicep, firm and solid next to him, anchoring him in place. 

The waiter who’s usually there on late nights recognizes them right away and leads them directly to their favorite table. In the brightly-lit restaurant, slurping down noodles, Satoru sits in his smug satisfaction: no matter what, Suguru will always come home with him if he asks. That’s real friendship. How many people can say they have that?

Satoru’s not much of a sleeper, never really has been. His brain’s moving too fast to really power down at the end of the day. As such, he’s nearly always the first one up in their apartment on a Sunday morning after a night out of drinking. Suguru likes to sleep off the hangover, have a lazy breakfast, go to the gym a little later in the day. It’s all the same to Satoru; he wouldn’t stick to a schedule if there wasn’t someone else to set it, so he’s happy to follow along.

He whistles to himself as he fumbles around in the kitchen, making no effort to be quiet – Suguru sleeps like a fucking corpse, so it doesn’t matter. He pokes through their cupboards, which are tragically barren. That is…probably his fault. He was supposed to go grocery shopping after his classes on Friday and he definitely did not go. And now they’re out of basically everything except eggs and rice. Okay. Well, eggs and rice are like. Fine for breakfast. So he sets the rice to cook and gets out his phone to dick around a little until Suguru wakes up.

The girl at the bar last night hadn’t been interesting, but Satoru hasn’t been on a date in like, months. He should probably re-download Tinder, see if there’s anyone out there. He makes himself coffee and swipes through a couple of profiles, but the women on there aren’t catching his attention. Maybe they’re all really bad at taking pictures or something. Satoru clicks back over to his own profile, which is obviously perfect. His first profile picture is one Suguru took where he’s laughing, his grin aimed at the photographer like always. It’s a solo shot, because you’re always supposed to start with a solo shot on Tinder. But the rest of his pictures are of him and Suguru doing various activities: hiking, at the bar, doing yoga together. Suguru’s in, like, 98% of Satoru’s photos, so it just works out that way.

A few more swipes and Satoru finally sees a girl he’s willing to swipe right on. Rin, 26, long pink hair tied up in a bun, a lip ring like Suguru’s but on the wrong side, 3km away. It’s a match. She must be online, too, because she messages him right away.

Satoru almost spits out his coffee. The fuck?

“What’s for breakfast?” Suguru asks, rubbing his eyes and walking over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.

Satoru jumps, closing out of the app in a hurry and flipping his phone facedown on the table. Like, just in case. He looks up at Suguru, trying to keep any sort of guilty expression off his face. It isn’t his fault Rin made assumptions. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone had thought that about him and Suguru. So this is all very normal best friend shit.

“Uh, rice is cooking, there’s eggs,” says Satoru in his most normal voice. Normally.

Suguru laughs. “You didn’t go to the store.” He reaches out and scratches his fingers through Satoru’s hair, an easy touch.

“I did not,” Satoru says, grinning and leaning up into it. “I’ll go later, I don’t have shit going on today.” 

Suguru nods, already busy putting rice into two bowls and cracking eggs on top. “Shoko and I have shodō, so I can’t go with.”

Satoru did get banned from calligraphy class because he kept drawing dicks all over his fancy paper. But Shoko really likes it, since it’s meditative and distracts her from the stress of the ER. Suguru drew a bunch of dicks on Satoru’s paper too but turned in a flawless passage in sōsho on his own, so he’s still allowed back with her. Asshole.

“Boo,” Satoru pouts, but he accepts the bowl when Suguru holds it out. 

Satoru does in fact go to the store while Suguru’s in class with Shoko. He’s totally fine running an errand alone, actually. Suguru made them a weekly essentials list a couple months after they started living together, so Satoru checks off all those items first and then he does another lap around the store for the fun stuff. 

His phone burns a hole in his pocket as he shops. Satoru’s not going to pull the conversation with Rin back up – he does not want to have a threesome with Rin and Suguru. Suguru definitely wouldn’t like that. He doesn’t even like women. But now Satoru’s thinking about Suguru having sex, can’t get it out of his head. In fact, Suguru hasn’t brought someone home in awhile, and if Satoru thinks about that, he feels kind of bad. If Suguru wants to have someone over while Satoru’s asleep, then that doesn’t really infringe on their time together, so that’s like, fine, right? Satoru nods to himself and picks up one more item, sticking it in his basket, and goes to pay. 

Seriously, Satoru isn’t gay. He just isn’t. Sure, sometimes he watches the guy in porn, but like, whatever. Doesn’t everybody? If the guy’s good looking? Satoru is capital-S straight. He’s slept with multiple women before. Saw, conquered, came, or however the saying goes. And sleeping with women is like, the literal straightest thing he could possibly do. Definitely not gay. But he’s a really good ally. So he drops the brand new box of condoms he’d picked up at the store outside Suguru’s bedroom door – the ones with the elephant on the box, because. Well. They’ve been living together for years. He’s, ya know, seen Suguru. And then Satoru snaps a picture and texts it to him, since Suguru’s still out with Shoko. 

Satoru puts his phone away, pleased. He’s done the right thing. If they gave out awards for best ally, he would definitely be a nominee. Probably would have to up his game a little to win, but. Nomination’s a good start. 

They don’t talk about the condoms again, but Satoru notices that Suguru’s moved them from in front of his bedroom door, ostensibly to use them later. It makes Satoru proud, like he’s a provider or some shit. And Suguru lets Satoru know that he’s going out with the guy from the bar on Thursday night, so Satoru’s wingman job is a success as well. He’s crushing it. 

Satoru makes his own plans on Thursday night. He’s too nervous to try Tinder again – what if someone else suggests a threesome? But for some reason, he feels like he has a lot of extra energy to burn off, so he goes to the gym in the evening and adds an extra hour on the treadmill to the end of his routine. He’s not a cardio bunny like Utahime – usually he just sticks to the jump rope or something. He can’t deny that there’s something meditative about running, though, and today he’s happy to let his mind blank out. By the time he’s finished and showered off, the gym’s almost totally cleared out, and it’s nearing midnight. 

Satoru makes his way into the apartment, kicking his shoes off by the front door. Huh. There’s an extra pair of shoes next to Suguru’s that Satoru doesn’t recognize. They’re pretty small, smaller than Suguru or Satoru would wear. Satoru smirks to himself. Small feet probably means…well. Good thing Suguru doesn’t have that problem. But now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t actually know if Suguru’s the one giving or taking. He’s always kinda assumed, but like. Shoko’s always saying you should never assume shit like that. Is he losing ally points by not knowing? Maybe he should ask. 

Satoru moves through his nighttime routine like usual, not thinking too much about who may or may not be in Suguru’s bedroom. Not thinking about it at all, actually, because he is a very good roommate who is very capable of respecting privacy. Everyone says this about him. No, it’s not until he’s settled in his bed, scrolling on his phone, that he even remembers Suguru has someone over. And at that point, well, it really can’t be considered his fault.

When Satoru and Suguru had moved in, they’d both placed the heads of their beds against the same wall. It had just made sense, with the way the windows and doors were laid out in their apartment. And, honestly, Satoru likes the idea of them going to sleep every night with their heads only barely separated – it’s soothing. If anything happens to Suguru in the night, Satoru will be the first to know. In the few months since they’d signed this particular lease together, it hasn’t been a problem.

It’s a problem now, because Satoru can hear. Everything. The thin wall does not block the soft, wet sounds of a mouth on someone’s cock. Satoru doesn’t have to wonder who’s getting their dick sucked, because a groan that clearly belongs to Suguru pours into Satoru’s bedroom. Fuck, yeah, baby, open up for me, he hears Suguru say, low and deep.

Satoru thunks his head back against the wall, his own dick chubbing up in his boxers. Ugh. Satoru wishes he was getting head right now. He palms himself, and then wonders if he should feel bad about it. Decides, as another loud groan echoes, nah. Sex noises are sex noises. It’s hot to hear someone else having a good time, right? Especially someone he knows. And he always wants Suguru to be having a good time, so really, this is satisfying on all counts. It’s working out for everyone. Satoru lets out a little whine as he imagines what Suguru’s face must look like right now, how he must have that blissed-out expression he gets sometimes, when he’s really relaxed. He wonders if Suguru still has his hair up, or if he takes it down, lets it fall messy over his shoulders. Probably messy, Satoru decides, like when Suguru stumbles to the coffee pot in the mornings, and then he’s a little annoyed that someone else is getting to see Suguru like that. If Satoru was gay, he thinks, he’d make sure no one else got to touch Suguru. He squeezes the base of his cock, strokes upward. 

You can take me a little deeper, Satoru overhears, and then what sounds like gagging, and then. Yeah, baby, choke on it, that’s so good. Which. Fuck. Satoru goes from casually-jerking-it to desperate-to-come in about 0.3 seconds. Holy shit. Can the poor guy take it deeper? Satoru’s morbidly curious. Could…Satoru? Take it deeper? Just, like, out of scientific curiosity. A hypothesis. His strokes speed up and his hips lift into his hand.

He’s right on the edge when he hears Suguru groan again, I’m gonna –, let me come on your face, and, well, that’s about all it takes. Satoru paints his stomach white. Like, more than usual. Fuck. 

Satoru cleans himself up and sits silently in his bed for about an hour, distinctly Not Thinking about what just happened. But if he was thinking about it, then it would be totally normal thoughts. This kind of shit happens between friends all the time. It’s, like, no big deal. He doesn’t even need to bring it up to Suguru or anything. Super, super fine and cool and normal. 

By the time Satoru’s brave enough to come out of his room the next morning, which is quite literally ten minutes before he has to leave for his classes, Suguru’s date has definitely already left. Suguru’s sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee in his hand and one made up for Satoru. He looks up when Satoru walks in.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in last night,” he says, smiling and handing the mug over.

Satoru takes it, careful not to let their fingers touch. “Uh, yeah, I lost track of time at the gym, got back kinda late.” Which, like, is true. He takes a sip of coffee. “Date go okay?” He sits down on the couch.

Suguru smirks. “Yeah, pretty successful.”

Satoru nods. Cool. Cool cool cool. “You gonna see him again?”

Shrugging, Suguru curls his feet up underneath himself, turning more towards Satoru. “Nah, probably not. I’ve had better bl–” He cuts himself off. “Well. Just not a lot of chemistry.” He’s quiet for a second, assessing. “Sorry if you, like, heard anything, by the way.” Suguru smirks again. “I did try to keep him quiet.”

I wouldn’t have noticed if he was screaming as long as you were there, Satoru doesn’t say. He coughs. “Ah, no, like I said, got back kinda late and passed out.”

Suguru studies Satoru for a second, like maybe he doesn’t believe him, but he lets it go. “Aren’t you gonna be late?” 

Satoru looks down at his phone. “Fuck,” he says, and he’s rushing out the door.

They don’t talk about it again, but Satoru notices that Suguru doesn’t bring home any more dates. He meets guys at the bar, sure, but he’ll go to their places for a couple hours, always coming back home to sleep. Even that has sort of dwindled in frequency, though. Satoru doesn’t think too much of it – he likes it better when they spend their time together anyway, and they’re both so busy. The semester’s in full swing for Satoru, and Suguru has been given a couple new clients at his accounting firm. 

A couple of weeks pass in the time it takes Satoru to blink. He’s meant to be on campus for a teacher workday that Utahime’s planned and come up from Kyoto to lead. The kids love these, because it means they get a Monday off of school. Satoru doesn’t really do the whole ‘teacher workday’ thing – it messes with his flow. His first years like his spontaneity, anyway. Planning too much in advance would just crush the spirit of it. So like, fucking. Whatever, Utahime. He ignores the influx of texts from her, probably begging him to come back to campus, and throws open the door to his apartment. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Satoru sing-songs, dumping his bag next to the door even though he knows it pisses Suguru off. 

“Jesus fuck,” he hears, and then the sounds of scrambling.

Satoru saunters into the living room, where he’s greeted by Suguru simultaneously trying to situate a blanket over his lap and turn off the television at the same time. He’s only half successful – the television shows a paused picture of two men half-undressed, clearly in the process of getting more undressed. One’s blond and lithe, and the other’s a bit bulkier with dark hair. The bulkier one has a hand in the blond’s hair, pulling his head back to reveal his throat. It’s hot. If you’re, like. Into that sort of thing.

“Suguru!” Satoru gasps, delighted. “On the couch? We eat dinner here!”

“Yeah, and we should eat at the table like normal fucking people,” Suguru grumbles, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Satoru hops over the back of the couch and settles in beside Suguru, leaning back and focusing in on the television. He gestures at the screen. “Well, let it run,” he says, crossing his legs and throwing an arm out, almost touching Suguru. Not quite.

“What the fuck.” says Suguru as he turns to Satoru. “Like, seriously, man, what are you gonna do? Watch with?”

Satoru shrugs. “Why not? You like it, can’t be all bad.”

Suguru sighs and presses his thumb to his forehead like he’s trying to stave off a tension headache. “Satoru. You are not gay. You do not need to watch gay porn.”

“I’m not, like, homophobic, though,” Satoru says, offended. “I can watch. It’s not gonna be weird.”

Suguru gives him a long look. “It’s absolutely gonna be weird.”

Satoru just raises an eyebrow. They stare at each other, unmoving, unblinking.

“Fine. Take your dick out. I don’t fucking care,” says Suguru. He hits play.

Well, Satoru doesn’t really need to take his dick out. He’s mostly watching as, like, an educational experience. So much more productive than the teacher workday with the Kyoto faculty. He’ll have to tell Utahime next time he sees her. Suguru still has the blanket over his lap, but Satoru can see his hand moving, a slow stroke, a twist on the way up. Suguru’s clearly into this – his breath’s doing little hitches as his shoulder tenses. Satoru looks back at the screen, scrutinizing the two actors. The bulky, dark-haired one is fucking the blond’s face without mercy, tears forming in the blond actor’s eyes. Satoru flashes back to the other night – you can take me a little deeper – and wonders if this is what Suguru wanted from his hookup.

Since he technically already has permission, Satoru does, in fact, take his dick out, because it is, in fact, hard. He’s just thinking about how nice it would feel to gi– get a blowjob, how it would feel to open his thro– fuck his cock into a tight, wet throat. He doesn’t, like, love getting head from girls, not the way these guys on the screen seem to be enjoying it. But it’s nice enough, and it would feel really good right now to have something besides his own hand around his cock. He sneaks a look over at Suguru, at where the blanket’s starting to slip. 

The actors switch positions, and now the dark-haired man has the blond on his hands and knees and pushes his face down into the pillow while he fucks him. Satoru wonders, again, if Suguru usually does the fucking when he brings guys home. He can easily imagine Suguru as the guy in this video, with his smooth voice and his wide shoulders. He’s better-looking than any porn star too. Plus, based on the way the blond guy on the screen is moaning about how big the dick inside him is, it kind of seems like Suguru’s shouldn’t go to waste. 

Satoru can’t stop thinking about it. Does Suguru like his partners in this position, face down and taking it? Does he get them in his lap and work them down onto him? Or does Suguru crave something entirely different? He has to ask.   

Satoru turns his body towards Suguru. “So which one’s you?” he asks.

Flushed, Suguru stills. “What?” he says, his breath a little short.

“You know,” he gestures at the screen, “which one?”

Suguru sighs and presses his thumb to his forehead again. “Satoru.” 

“What,” says Satoru. 

“You can’t just ask which one,” says Suguru.

Satoru goes quiet for a second. He and Suguru share everything, really, know everything there is to know about each other. All the messy, ugly, self-centered parts of Satoru, all the dark, manipulative, mean parts of Suguru. Everything about Satoru’s parents, everything about the hometown Suguru left behind. The good things, too: Suguru attended Satoru’s thesis defense when he was finishing his doctorate, and Satoru has spent holidays with him every year since university. And Satoru has certainly detailed enough of his one-night-stand mishaps to Suguru over the years. So why not this? “Well, why not?” He pauses. “I’m literally just curious.”

Suguru closes his eyes, just for a second, and then opens them again, turning to Satoru. “I prefer to top, but not exclusively.”

Huh. “Huh,” says Satoru, his hand moving on his cock again without him realizing it. It’s just, the idea of it. 

Objectively, Suguru is hot. Satoru’s not fucking blind, okay? The hair, the tattoos, the lip ring. And he’s got this like, thing about him that makes Satoru want to roll over and show his belly. Like a dog. Or something. And he’s broader than Sat– than a lot of men. And he’s got giant hands. Like, Satoru’s pretty sure Suguru could wrap his hands basically all the way around someone’s waist. If that person, you know, happened to wear the same size pants as Satoru. Or something. Satoru’s not thinking about Suguru fucking him. But like, the idea of Suguru fucking someone…

“Satoru,” says Suguru, dragging Satoru from his thoughts. 

His face is flushed, his head is thrown back against the couch cushions, and the blanket has all but fallen off his lap. Fuck. Satoru can see one of those giant hands wrapped around his cock, the way his forearm flexes as it moves, the way his thumb’s sticky and shiny from where he’s been rubbing it across the slit. Satoru shifts, sliding his hand down to the base of his own cock and squeezing to prolong the inevitable.

“If you don’t want to be here when –” Suguru starts, and lets out a choked groan. “You need to go.”

A gun to the head wouldn’t convince Satoru to get off this couch right now. “No, I’m,” he pants. “Not gonna, don’t need to, not weird.”

He twists his hand as he brings it up his shaft, speeds up, lets his strokes go sloppy. He’s leaking like crazy. It’s so fucking wet. He never gets this wet when he jerks off. Satoru’s so close. He wants to watch Suguru watch the actors on the tv, wants to see what Suguru looks like when he comes, just so he knows. Satoru drags his gaze away from Suguru’s lap to his face, but Suguru’s not watching the tv, no, fuck, he’s watching Satoru, and he’s not fucking blinking. His eyes are so dark and he’s locked in on the wet slide of Satoru’s hand, the way he’s getting the bottom of his t-shirt all messy with precome. And that’s so fucking insane. Satoru can’t hold it back anymore. He knocks his head back and lets out a moan – deep, okay, very manly, not at all a whine, and comes all over his fist and his shirt and maybe a little bit on his own face. Jesus.

He doesn’t get to see Suguru come, because he’s actually struggling to breathe. But he hears it, the low groan, just like he’d heard it the other night. His dick twitches where he’s still got a death grip on it, like it wants to get hard again.

They’re silent for a moment, breathing heavily. Satoru feels like every single bone in his body has disappeared. Seriously, it feels crazy. Apparently good allyship leads to good orgasms, even though he hadn’t really watched much of the gay porn. It’s still playing on the tv in the background; the dark-haired actor has the blond in a mating press. Satoru tilts his head, considering. He could totally get his knees by his ears like that – Suguru makes him do yoga. 

The image cuts out, and Satoru looks over to see Suguru holding the remote. There’s a dirty tissue next to him and he’s already got his pants zipped back up. Right. Satoru should probably also do that. A tissue isn’t gonna help him much, so he carefully tucks himself away and resigns himself to doing a load of laundry, like, right the fuck now. Otherwise shit’s gonna get so crusty.

“I’m gonna,” Satoru gestures down at himself with the hand that isn’t absolutely covered in come. 

“Right,” says Suguru, raising one eyebrow. “You go do that.”

Satoru jumps off the couch and heads towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. He glances back over his shoulder. “See? I told you. Not weird at all.”

Suguru laughs. “Go fucking shower, weirdo.”

He obeys, because he was going anyway and not just because Suguru said so. In the shower, he thinks it over – really not weird. People jerk off with their friends all the time. There’s totally precedent. And it felt nice. Really nice – Satoru doesn’t actually remember the last time he came that hard. Maybe gay people are, like, making better porn or something. He’s going to have to watch more to figure it out. Maybe Suguru has some recs. Yeah, he probably does. Satoru can ask. His dick perks up a little thinking about it. Suguru probably has a whole list of things he likes in bed. And, like, really good gay porn to showcase it. Satoru reaches down to squeeze himself. God, he’s like, really hard. He’s going to have to jerk off again. Fuck. 

When Satoru gets out of the shower, clean and doubly satisfied, he can hear Suguru moving around in the kitchen, and the soft sizzling sounds of the stove. He walks out in his towel and comes to rest his head on the back of Suguru’s shoulder, all domestic and roommate-like.

“What’s for dinner?” he mumbles into the fabric of Suguru’s shirt.

Suguru shakes him off, not unkindly, and gives him a little shove. “Put some clothes on and you’ll see.” 

Satoru slumps against the wall. “Not even a little snack while I wait?”

“Satoru, get dressed,” Suguru says, his smile fond. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“You’re literally trying to starve me,” Satoru groans, but he stomps back to his bedroom anyway to put clothes on. 

When he comes back out, dressed and dry, Suguru has pointedly set places for them at the table, rather than letting Satoru bring his bowl to the couch. Satoru snorts.

“Normal fucking people, huh?” he says, sitting down and crossing his legs up underneath himself. It’s just not as comfortable. 

Suguru raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t respond. So they share their dinner like they always do, and it’s all the same, and Satoru totally doesn’t watch Suguru’s hands or his mouth or his throat. Not even a little bit weird. 

He doesn’t see much of Suguru over the rest of the week. That’s not weird. Probably. It really is a busy time of year. Satoru wonders if maybe they should talk about the porn thing, if maybe he misread the situation, if maybe he could have been even more supportive. Like, should he have taken his pants all the way off? Would that have made Suguru more comfortable? But when he tries to bring it up, Suguru suddenly has to be somewhere very important very urgently. Which might be true – Suguru is in high demand. But still. 

By the time Saturday rolls around, things are feeling closer to normal. Suguru bullies Satoru into morning yoga like always, and Satoru uses that time to surreptitiously practice his plow pose. He can, in fact, get his knees right up by his ears. Sick. Not that anyone’s putting him into a mating press, but. He doesn’t like knowing he has potential limitations. The opportunity isn’t going to arise, because he isn’t gay, but if it did, he’d be prepared. Gojo Satoru is limitless.

They have plans to meet their friends at the bar again, so Satoru finishes up grading a couple quizzes after dinner and then he’s ready to leave. Suguru’s still in his bedroom, reading a book. Satoru knocks gently on his door frame and pokes his head in.

“You ready to go?” he asks. 

Suguru looks over at the clock on his bedside table. “Shit, yeah. Didn’t realize the time. Let me just grab a jacket.” He puts the book down and walks over to his closet, rummaging around.

Satoru steps in and sits on the edge of the bed, watching the way Suguru’s back moves as he shifts through hangers. “You wanna get ramen after tonight?” he asks, hopeful.

Suguru stills, only for a second. Barely long enough to notice, but Satoru was watching. “Maybe,” he says, somewhat hesitant. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”

Fuck. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” Satoru says, teasing. His feelings are hurt, but they shouldn’t be – Suguru should be allowed to look for someone to go home with if he wants to. He has before, he certainly will again. Satoru just. He likes spending time with Suguru. He likes the late-night, kind-of-drunk ramen. He likes their warm walks home together. It’s not the same, otherwise.

Suguru finally picks a jacket, his black leather one, even though it’s really too warm for a jacket at all and definitely too warm for leather. He turns to Satoru, shrugs as he tugs it on. “Yeah, might be like that. Come on, don’t want to keep Shoko waiting, she’ll talk you into buying the next six rounds.”

“She’ll talk me into that anyway,” Satoru mutters, following Suguru out the door. 

The bar’s more crowded than usual, and somehow Satoru manages to get separated from Suguru pretty much right away, which is super annoying. Usually, Satoru can at least keep an eye on him from across the bar, see if he’s talking to anyone, see if he looks interested at all. He’s not as tall as Satoru is, but he’s tall enough to stand out, so it’s not typically difficult to spot him. But it’s hot with bodies, packed in like a can of sardines, salty and wet in the evening humidity. He can’t even catch a glimpse of Suguru’s topknot. 

Satoru stands near the bar, nursing a beer, totally not drunk, totally not sulking at all. He’s mostly ignoring women who come up to talk to him, still looking around for Suguru. He’ll want another drink eventually, right? He’ll have to come back to the bar then. So if Satoru just stays in one place. Then like, logically. 

But it’s not Suguru that finds him first. It’s Shoko. She jabs him in the calf with the toe of her boot. 

“‘Sup, grumpy,” she says, snatching his half-finished beer and downing the rest of it. “Where’s Geto?”

“Shokooooo,” Gojo whines, draping himself across her shoulders. He puts a little weight on her, just enough to be a dick. So maybe he is a little drunk, sue him.

She staggers under him. “Fuck, Gojo, have you been swallowing rocks? You’re heavy as shit,” she says, shoving him off.

He goes willingly, leans back up against the wall. “Suguru said we could go get ramen and now I can’t find him.” Which is a lie. Suguru had very much implied that he would not be around at the end of the night. But Shoko doesn’t know that.

Shoko laughs. “Right, so that’s why you’re all pathetic over here in your corner.” She gives him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Come on, you big baby, I’ll go get ramen with you. Nanami left anyway, too crowded for him, and I couldn’t find Geto either.”

Satoru lets out a long sigh. It’s not the same with Shoko, but it’ll do. “Okay, let’s go,” he says.

Shoko rolls her eyes. “Christ, don’t sound so excited about it,” she says, but she’s smiling anyway, so then Satoru’s smiling too, and he really does love Shoko, so it’s not all bad.

He texts Suguru, going home with shokkkooooo don’t wait up loser, and follows Shoko out of the bar. 

Later on, he’ll realize how that text was easy to misinterpret. Later on, he’ll wonder if, somewhere in his drunken mind, he knew the text would be easy to misinterpret when he sent it. But it’s not later on, it’s now, and Satoru is stumbling into his own blessedly empty apartment. He can’t hear Suguru, so he must have gone back with someone. Satoru showers off, because it had been sweaty at the bar and he’s pretty sure he’d had at least one beer spilled on him, and then he settles into bed.

He’s just wondering if maybe he should jerk off or something, get rid of the low-level buzz that’s pretty much constantly under his skin these days, when he hears the apartment door open. Satoru perks up – Suguru must not have found anyone to go home with. He’s just about to get out of bed and see if Suguru wants to watch a movie or something before they fall asleep when he hears an unfamiliar voice.

“You have a roommate?” the voice asks, moving further into their apartment.

Satoru freezes, his breath quickening.

“Yeah,” Suguru responds. “But he’s staying over with one of our friends tonight, so we don’t have to worry about making noise.”

Oh, fuck. 

The other voice giggles, annoying as shit. “Well, let’s make some noise, then.”

Suguru chuckles, low and dark. “I’m confident that’s in order.”

Oh. Fuck. 

Should Satoru say something? Should he do something? He sits, frozen in his bed, for a solid three minutes, and then it’s too late anyway: he can hear wet, slick sounds, like Suguru already has his dick halfway down this guy’s throat. And once again, Satoru’s hard listening to Suguru get a blowjob. He groans in frustration, knocking his head back against his headboard. It’s not gonna go away on its own. He brings a hand down to his cock and strokes slowly, just to get it going. 

And then the sloppy wet sounds stop, and there’s a thump like Suguru’s thrown the guy on his bed. The guy starts making noise in earnest, little whines and pleases that Satoru wishes would stop. Suguru has a much nicer voice, really. 

“You’re just opening right up for me, taking two fingers so easy,” Suguru says. “You can take a third, can't you? I don’t even have to take my time. Desperate slut.” 

There’s a smacking sound, and then a few more. Is Suguru spanking the other guy? Satoru speeds up his strokes a little. He’s so close. Fuck, what would that be like? No one’s ever spanked Satoru, but sometimes Suguru jokes that he deserves it…

“Yeah, you even like that, don’t you,” Suguru says, and the man wails. “You want me to fuck you?” There’s the sound of shifting. “Okay, work for it,” Suguru says. 

And, well, that does it. Satoru can’t hold himself back anymore, comes all over his fist. He wipes himself off with a tissue and passes out before he can think too much about it.

The next morning, Satoru sleeps in late, wakes up hungover and nauseated. Wow, he really had a lot to drink last night. He rolls over and looks at the used tissues on the floor. Ah. Well. Not like it was the first time, anyway. He stretches and gets up. Suguru’s hookup has probably left by now, so maybe they can play Mario Kart or something while Satoru nurses this hangover. 

He stumbles into the kitchen. Suguru’s already in there, thankfully alone.

“Satoru,” he says, sliding him the coffee pot. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

Satoru doesn’t look at him, and instead focuses on pouring. “Oh, yeah, was pretty late. You were probably already asleep,” he lies. 

Suguru avoids his eyes too, so maybe he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t say anything, so Satoru counts it as a win. “How’s the head?” he says, because he can always tell when Satoru’s suffering.

“Sucks,” Satoru says. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

So they do. Suguru kicks his ass, even on Bowser City, which is usually Satoru’s specialty. Satoru whines and blames it on his hangover, Suguru calls him a little bitch, et cetera. All normal. So really, nothing to worry about in regards to jerking off to your best friend’s hookups with men. Doesn’t change the relationship at all. Everything is so chill and so cool.

Satoru doesn’t teach any afternoon classes on Mondays, and it’s hard to get a hold of Shoko outside of the occasional weekend because of her residency schedule, so the next day he knocks off after he’s done teaching to meet her for lunch. Shoko brings Utahime along, which Satoru is thrilled about because he hasn’t had a chance to talk to her since he skipped out on teacher workday. Also Utahime is an easy target, even a decade after high school. She won’t, like, cry anymore, but the tips of her ears get so fucking red. It’s hilarious. 

Satoru’s a giver; everyone says this about him. So he lets Shoko go first, rests his head in his hand as she talks about her residency and the horrors of the emergency room, making sure to gasp and grimace where appropriate. Active listening. Fucking nailed it. He even lets Utahime get a couple of sentences off, but he’s mostly just waiting for his in.

“...which you’d know, Gojo, if you’d showed up for teacher workday,” says Utahime, her ears just starting to turn pink.

Satoru grins, teeth showing. “Well, I was busy that day. Working on my personal education,” he says with a sniff, folding his hands in front of him on the table. 

Shoko rolls her eyes. “If you’re trying to get us to believe that you’ve signed up for some sort of continuing education program…you basically sprint out of the fucking classroom at the end of the day.”

“Yeah, you can just admit that you wanted to fuck around with Geto,” Utahime says, biting her straw. “Whatever it is that you two idiots get up to.”

God, it’s like she knows she’s setting him up. Satoru grins even wider. “Fucking around with Suguru was my ‘continuing education’,” he says, making air quotes, “and it was a whole lot more worthwhile than your teacher workday, which is the exact same every year, and therefore not worth going to.”

“How do you know it’s the same if you didn’t – whatever. I don’t even want to know what you mean by that, you and Geto can keep your freak shit to yourselves,” says Utahime.

Satoru’s offended. “It’s not freak shit. I’m being a good ally.”

Shoko zeros in now, looking at Satoru like he’s stupid. She does that a lot. It’s so not fair – Satoru is not stupid, he has a doctorate, Shoko came to his graduation and everything. So. She should know that. 

“Gojo. What did you do,” she says, monotone. Accusatory, even.

“Literally nothing! We just, like, watched porn together,” he says, and in the light of day, he feels like. Well. He feels like maybe he shouldn’t mention the jerking off part to Shoko and Utahime, who are currently looking at him like he has six eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m not touching that,” says Utahime, and she gets up and leaves. Rude.

Shoko doesn’t even try to stop her. She lets out a long sigh and leans down to grab her bag. For a second Satoru thinks she’s going to leave too, which feels like a massive overreaction to a little light adult movie time between two best friends. Instead, she pulls out a bottle of acetaminophen and shakes two white pills out into her hand, swallowing them down with a sip of water. “That was fucking preventative,” she says, pointing her finger at him. “Now, tell me how you making Geto watch porn with you constitutes good allyship to the queer community, of which many of your closest friends are members.”

Satoru sits back and huffs. “I didn’t make Suguru do anything. He was watching it on the couch, and I came home and joined. It was, like, supportive. I can watch gay porn too.” 

“Right,” says Shoko, slowly. She looks at him intently, her deep brown eyes steady. “So you just, very straightly, watched gay porn with your gay best friend.”

“Yes?” says Satoru. They’ve been over this? What’s not clicking? “I always want Suguru to feel comfortable and supported in our home.” 

Shoko nods. “And that didn’t, like, trigger any thought paths for you?”

Satoru thinks that now is probably also not a good time to bring up the listening-to-Suguru’s-hookups-and-beating-it thing. He does not want to give Shoko any more ammo about thought paths. She clearly just doesn’t understand what it’s like to have a best friend. Sad! “No, Shoko, it did not trigger any thought paths. I’m not gay,” he says. Because it’s true. He has not done anything gay. Heaven forbid a man be emotionally supportive in the age of male loneliness. Like, shouldn’t Shoko be encouraging his good behavior?

“Okay,” she says, reaching out and patting his hand. “You’re a really good ally, babe,” she says, and it kind of sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. Rude. 

Satoru finishes lunch with Shoko, and, well, it does sort of set him off down some thought paths. Namely, blowjobs. He’s kind of feeling like maybe Shoko’s missing the point of the whole allyship thing. And maybe if he just took it a little further, it would make more sense. Satoru could totally give a blowjob. He’s gotten plenty. He understands them, like, conceptually. Wet, suction, open your throat up. Not rocket science. Anyone could do it with a little practice. A little trial-and-error.

He thinks about it all through the rest of his day. When he’s doing bicep curls at the gym, he stares at his mouth in the mirror. It could be a good mouth for a blowjob. Satoru’s attractive to gay guys; the times he and Suguru have been out to a gay bar, Satoru gets hit on at least as much as Suguru does. Of course, Suguru usually takes them up on it, and gets his dick sucked in the bathroom. Suguru apparently has a thing about club bathrooms, given past precedent.

Satoru wonders what it’s like to get on your knees in a bathroom like that. It seems kind of…dirty. He squirms a little, willing his dick to stay soft. He’s not unadventurous, but all the girls he’s been with have been strictly sex-in-the-house kind of girls. He can’t pretend like he’s not a little curious. Suguru’s so calmly commanding, so patient, so instructive. He probably talks his partners through it. Scratch that – Satoru knows he talks in bed. He’s heard it. But he’d probably be so kind for someone’s first time, so indulgent. Satoru shivers a little. All of Suguru’s hookup partners have been very lucky, he thinks.

So yeah, by the time Satoru gets home, he’s been thinking about blowjobs, and Suguru, and blowjobs and Suguru, basically all day. Kind of exhausting for a straight guy. When he walks through the door, he slings his bag down on the couch and collapses next to it. “It can’t be that hard, can it?”

“What can’t be?” Suguru calls from the kitchen.

Breathing in, Satoru closes his eyes and smells the sizzling mackerel they’ll be having for dinner. Suguru makes dinner most nights; he likes it, likes the ritual of it, Satoru knows. And Satoru’s always scattered at the end of the day, scrambling to grade papers or lesson plan for his next classes (because he does actually lesson plan, thank you very much). Suguru takes care of him, makes sure he eats something before bed, because otherwise Satoru would probably forget until, like, three am, and then he’d be awake later than he already is. It’s nice, having someone like that living with him.

“I feel like Shoko thinks I’m a bad ally,” says Satoru, leaning his head back over the cushions until he can catch an upside-down view of his best friend. 

Suguru steps away from the stove and leans against the doorframe, all long, straight lines. “I’m deeply not following your train of thought here,” he says, warm like he’s about to laugh. “I don’t think you have a single straight friend. Kinda feel like if you were a bad ally we would have sniffed it out by now, don’t you think?”

Satoru groans. “It’s not funny. I just feel like I need to up my game, you know?” The idea enters his head, and then he’s sitting up before he can think better of it. “Wait, Suguru, you can help me.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what I’m helping you with, and I’m not agreeing until you tell me.”

Whatever. Satoru waves a hand. “You know. Let me suck your dick.”

It’s silent. 

“Sorry, I think I just had an auditory hallucination,” Suguru says, tugging on his earlobes like it’s going to help him hear better. “Would you mind repeating that?”

“I think,” says Satoru, enunciating the K. “That you should let me suck your dick. You know, just so I can get a feel for it. Get in touch with the culture of your people and all.”

Suguru goes suspiciously silent. When he speaks again, he’s not facing Satoru anymore – he’s turned to get the bowls down out of the cabinet, giving Satoru a good view of the way his back muscles move in his shirt. Suguru’s been stressed at work lately, which means he’s been hitting the gym harder, and it is extremely clear, right now, in this moment, as Satoru takes in the sheer mass of him. He really is getting so much bigger than Satoru, could probably, like, fireman carry him. If there happened to be a fire. And for some reason Satoru couldn’t walk out of the building on his own. Just, like, in that one specific scenario and no others. 

“I don’t think blowjobs are really the culture of my people,” Suguru says. “And I don’t think you need to learn to get more in touch with like. My dick.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever, you can just say you don’t want me to suck your dick,” he says, trying to pretend like he’s not offended by that. He has a nice mouth? And he’s a fast learner?

Of course, Suguru susses him out immediately. “Satoru. You cannot be offended right now. You don’t need to go down on me to prove something to Shoko.”

Satoru throws his arms over his head, lets them dangle on the ground. “I’m not proving anything to Shoko. I just think it would be, like, the right thing to do.”

“The right thing…” Suguru mutters, pressing his thumb to his forehead. He says something else, but Satoru doesn’t quite catch it, and supposes he wasn’t meant to. “Are you going to go proposition another guy now? Because it’s the ‘right thing to do’?” He doesn’t make the air quotes, but Satoru can kinda hear them anyway.

Satoru sits up and shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe. Not sure if I want to.”

Suguru looks at the ceiling for a long minute, like there’s an answer up there he’s dying to find. Then he nods, just once, like he’s found it somewhere in the water stain in the far left corner. “Right. Come back and talk to me if you decide you really want to. But I don’t think you do,” he says, and then he’s plating up their dinner.

Satoru huffs. What-fucking-ever. Maybe he should go practice on someone else. Then he can show Suguru.

The thing is, Satoru can be really dedicated. When he sets his mind to it, he totally commits to a task. And he is fucking committed to blowjobs. He sets up his research in a giant document, linking articles on techniques and Reddit posts with advice. He makes his own notes synthesizing the best tips and the comments that come up the most. He tries to think back to his favorite blowjobs, to what had made them stand out. Honestly, they haven’t historically been his favorite, but he knows he likes strong suction and a lot of attention to the head. He puts together a write-up on what he thinks would theoretically make for the best blowjob, and if he’s being honest, he’s kinda proud of it. He even cited the references in APA format. Really, it’s a thing of beauty.

And then, of course, he watches a lot of porn. Satoru knows, okay, that porn isn’t an accurate representation of what sex is actually like. But he finds the visual helpful. He sticks to gay porn, mostly, because he figures men probably have the home court advantage on sucking dick and it’s gonna be more useful than watching women do it. Also, for some reason, he just kinda likes it more. He’s found some decent amateur stuff, and the guys are really into it, so ultimately it’s pretty hot. 

With all that research under his belt, it’s time to go into the field. Satoru’s confident he can find some random man to let him practice; men are kinda easy. So the next time he’s out at the bar with his friends, he puts his plan into action.

Satoru gives Suguru the slip for once, and makes a lap around the room to check out the prospects. There are a couple good looking men in the area, and there’s even one that would be Satoru’s type if he were a woman. Tall, dark hair, piercings and tattoos. Satoru smiles at him, and is emboldened when the man smiles back. He’s not a hundred percent sure how to do this, but, well, his confidence has never failed him. He sticks his hands in his pockets and saunters over to the guy.

“I don’t have a drink,” Satoru says, widening his eyes a little. He knows they’re his best feature. “Buy me one?”

The guy grins, leans in a little. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”

Satoru shrugs, pouts his lip a little. “Maybe you’ll let me suck you off after too?” Might as well be forward. Not like he’s gonna see this guy again.

The man looks shocked, but pulls it together fast. “Uh. Yeah. What do you want?” 

And then he’s elbowing his way over to the bar, practically shoving people to the floor, to get Satoru’s drink. Satoru grins. This is going fucking great.

They chat while Satoru sips his beer, and the man’s actually pretty funny. Like, as far as dicks go, his probably won’t be such a bad one to suck. Satoru’s gonna give it his best effort – he seems like a good dude, ergo he deserves good head. His drink’s only about halfway finished, but Satoru is starting to look around for the bathrooms, so they can start making their way there.   

Suddenly, there’s a presence looming over him. 

“Satoru, what the fuck are you doing?” Suguru asks, his voice dark.

Satoru blinks down at him, the picture of innocence. “I’m just talking to my new friend here,” he says.

The man looks back and forth between them, his eyes wide. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t know you had a…I’m just gonna go,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Satoru huffs. “Suguruuuuu. Why did you have to go and scare him off?” he whines. 

Suguru looks at him, dead fucking silent. 

“He was totally gonna let me practice on him,” Satoru says. Not that he had told the man it was going to be practice. But whatever. 

Suguru grabs Satoru by the shoulder, hard. “We’re going home.”

“But –” Satoru says, looking down at his half-full drink. He wants to at least finish it. And it’s only, like, midnight. Way too early to call it.

“Don’t fucking argue with me.” Suguru says, and, well, when he breaks out that voice, Satoru knows not to.

He follows Suguru out of the bar. Suguru clamps his hand around Satoru’s wrist and all but drags him home. Satoru trips over his feet trying to keep up. Something twists deep in the pit of his stomach, like fear, except not at all. Excitement, maybe. 

When they step inside their apartment, Suguru slams the door behind them. He manhandles Satoru onto the couch and then stands in front of him with his arms crossed. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” he says, his voice dangerously even.

Satoru shivers. “I told you. I wanted to learn how to – how to give a blowjob,” he says, stumbling over it. 

Suguru looks down at him. Satoru’s sitting at his waist level, basically, so he can see that something about this conversation has…interested Suguru. Huh. 

Suguru huffs and uncrosses his arms. “Fine.” He flops down on the other side of the couch, out of the way of the coffee table, and spreads his legs. “You want to suck a dick so bad,” he says, and gestures down at his crotch, “have at it.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. Right. He did say he wanted to…right. Okay. He’s been preparing. He can do this.

He slides off the couch and crawls over to Suguru, kneeling in between his legs. Satoru places his hands on Suguru’s knees, just to hold them, and stares at the button on Suguru’s jeans, which he is, like, going to have to undo if he wants to get anywhere with this. His breath catches in his throat.

Satoru looks up at Suguru, just to find Suguru looking at him with pure, open want written all over his face. Well. Satoru smirks. That gives him a little confidence. Suguru’s not so unaffected as he wants to pretend. Ha! Satoru really does have a nice-looking blowjob mouth.

He scoots in a little closer so he’s really face-to-face with Suguru’s zipper. There’s a bulge there, and, ya know, elephant condoms. It’s not exactly small. Satoru exhales and leans forward to nose at Suguru’s clothed cock, just a little bit. It’s warm and it smells distinctly like Suguru, like the scent Suguru leaves behind on a pillow or, lowkey, in his sweaty gym clothes. Not that Satoru’s noticed. Whatever. He drags his mouth up towards the button, lets his lips catch on the rough fabric. 

Satoru tugs at the button a little with his teeth, teasing like maybe he’s gonna undo it with his mouth, his eyes fixed on Suguru’s face. Satoru may not be able to see Suguru’s hands from his current position, but based on the set of his shoulders, he’s pretty sure they’re clenched in the couch cushions. Good. Satoru uses his nose to push Suguru’s shirt up a little bit, leaving open-mouth kisses across the flat plane of Suguru’s stomach. He bites at Suguru’s belly button, relishes in the cut-off noise Suguru lets out, like he’s trying to hold himself back. This is, like, the same as going down on a girl – just a performance. Just a series of showy tricks, hold for the applause. Satoru doesn’t know why he was so nervous. This shit is easy.

Suguru’s getting impatient with the buildup, though. “Satoru,” he says, a pretty pink flush across his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Satoru responds, muffled from where he’s basically making out with Suguru’s abs. All that gym time really does pay off.

“Stop teasing,” he says, and he pushes Satoru’s head back so he can sit up a little and pull off his shirt. “You’re here to learn something, right? Take my cock out.”

Satoru flutters his lashes up at Suguru, a big grin on his face as he goes for the button for real this time. “Teach me, daddy,” he says, mostly as a joke. Mostly. But based on Suguru’s sharp intake of breath…well. He will be filing that away to tease Suguru about later. “Lift up,” he says, and pulls Suguru’s pants and underwear down to his ankles in one fell swoop. 

Suguru’s hard cock slaps up against his stomach, red and angry and leaking like fucking crazy. Like, it looks like it hurts it’s so hard. And big. He knew it was big, but. Whew. It sure is big.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouths to himself. He’s never thought of a dick as pretty before, not even his own, but he’s starting to understand why all those old Greek dudes carved them onto sculptures. Suguru’s cock belongs in a museum. 

Satoru freezes for a minute. But then he looks back up at Suguru’s face, at the way Suguru’s mouth has parted and his breathing has gone shallow, and he remembers all his careful preparations. Satoru leans back in and presses a soft kiss right under the head where it’s sensitive. Gaining confidence, he kisses up and down the shaft, wet and sloppy like he likes it when he’s on the receiving end. He tries a long lick up and then pauses at the top, letting spit drool out of his mouth and onto Suguru’s cock. He looks up at Suguru, making intentional eye contact. This is going, like, great. His research has not led him astray.

Suguru groans and reaches his hand out for Satoru’s hair. “Satoru, baby, you gotta put it in your mouth now,” he says, his fist tugging Satoru’s head up.

Satoru grins. He’s gonna make Suguru such a mess. “Help me?” he says, and opens wide.

That clearly does something for Suguru. He brings his hand down to Satoru’s jaw, presses his thumb against Satoru’s tongue, fucks it in and out. Satoru tries to close his mouth, suck on it like he’d suck on a cock, but Suguru holds his jaw open.

“You begged for this,” he says, slapping the head of his cock against Satoru’s tongue. “Acted out til you got it.” He holds the base and guides it in, slow, until he hits the back of Satoru’s throat. “Are you gonna be good now that I’m giving it to you?”

Helpless, all Satoru can do is nod. Suguru’s other hand has gone back to his hair, and he’s guiding Satoru on and off his cock. Sort of a waste, because Satoru had memorized some great hand techniques for assistance, but this is clearly what Suguru likes. Suguru thrusts in a little deeper, like he’s trying to see how much Satoru can take.

Satoru’s pretty sure he can take a lot. He grabs the back of Suguru’s calf to steady himself and breathes deeply through his nose, and the next time Suguru guides his head forward, Satoru keeps going. He gets about three quarters of the way down before he gags, but when he tries to pull his head off, Suguru holds him there.

“Breathe, you can take it,” he says, bringing his other hand to stroke Satoru’s throat like he’s trying to help him swallow from the outside. 

It kinda does help, soothes Satoru, and he presses on with renewed vigour. Let it be known that Gojo Satoru is not a quitter. He lets Suguru drag his head on and off, picking up the pace, lets his eyes water, tears running down his face, looks up and blinks so pretty. He’s got to look good like this. He wishes he’d had the foresight to ask Suguru to take a picture. Oh well. 

“Fuck, Jesus, you take it so good,” Suguru says. “Like you were made for it, made for me.” 

Possessive freak. Suguru’s always been like this. Satoru’s never minded; he probably was made for Suguru. If not him, then who? 

“You look so gorgeous crying on my cock,” Suguru says, a little mean. “So messy. You’re just a little whore for it.” He presses a socked foot onto Satoru’s cock, which is, to be totally honest, hard as a fucking diamond right now. “Are you hard? Just from letting me fuck your pretty face?” He laughs, condescending, and fucks harder into Satoru’s throat. “Of course you are.”

Fuck. The stimuli situation is really getting to Satoru. It would get to anybody, he reasons. Suguru is like, really fucking enjoying going to town on Satoru’s throat. And Satoru’s enjoying that Suguru’s enjoying it, because he is an extremely good friend. Such a good friend, in fact, that he’s probably the closest he’s been to coming in his pants since he was in high school. He whines, rocks up into Suguru’s foot for a little friction. Suguru pulls it away, because he’s an asshole, apparently. And when Satoru is giving him such good head, too. Honestly. No manners.

“Fuck,” swears Suguru, and abruptly pulls out, squeezing the base of his cock. “I’m gonna come. On your face or in your mouth?”

Satoru coughs and runs his wrist across his lips. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. “In my mouth, please, in my mouth,” he says, and then he’s opening back up, chasing Suguru’s cock like it’s a particularly delicious piece of candy. 

Suguru swears, gives it three more hard thrusts, and then comes in Satoru’s mouth. Satoru does his best to swallow it all, but Suguru is coming, like, a lot, so some leaks out the sides. Suguru’s looking down at him like he just won Olympic gold in cocksucking, though, so Satoru feels generally pretty good about the whole thing.

Satoru sits back on his heels, panting. His dick’s still hard. And his face has to be a disaster, covered in come and drool. He runs his fingers over it, getting whatever he missed, and licks them clean. 

Suguru looks like he’s close to passing out on the couch – he’s staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glassy. He’s totally naked, gorgeous, and suddenly Satoru feels a little vulnerable on the floor in his clothes with a sticky face. 

“So, uh,” Satoru says, glancing down at his knees. “Was that, like.” He pauses. Gathers a little courage. “Was that good?”

Suguru laughs, somewhat incredulous. “Yeah, that was good. You can check learning blowjobs off your list. Christ.” He throws an arm over his forehead.

Right. Because it was only a one-time thing. So Satoru could learn. “Cool. Cool cool cool,” Satoru says. He looks down at his lap. His erection has not gone down at all. He’s gonna have to go take care of that. He gestures towards his room. “I’m gonna…” he says.

“Yeah, I bet you wanna clean up. I’d get you a towel, but unfortunately I can’t move,” says Suguru.

Right. Yeah. So Suguru really did like it. That’s not helping Satoru’s pants situation in the slightest. “Sick. Dope. Clean up,” he says, being literally so normal. He backs out of the room, slow, like he’s waiting for a predator to strike. “We good?” he asks. Just in case. 

“So good,” mumbles Suguru, and then he rolls over into the cushions like he’s going to sleep.

Well, Satoru doesn’t have time to worry about Suguru making his back sore by sleeping on the couch tonight. He needs to jerk off, like, right the fuck now. He books it to the bathroom, yanks his pants down under his balls, and gets in about four good strokes before he’s painting the sink white. Also possibly a little bit of the wall and maybe the mirror too. Whoops. 

He looks at himself, cock softening in his hand, still breathing hard from his orgasm. Satoru looks like…well. Realistically. He looks like he just got his face fucked. Tear tracks run down his face and there’s dried drool and jizz around his red, swollen lips. His eyes look super blue, his lashes clumped together. His hair’s a disaster. The whole thing’s kind of hot, honestly. He, like, gets it, why guys are into this. 

Satoru wipes himself (and the sink and the wall and the mirror) off with a warm wash cloth and shuffles into his room, mulling over the experience. Genuinely, he does feel like a better ally. He definitely has a better understanding of Suguru now, at the very least. And as far as experiences go, it had actually been pretty good. Yeah. This project was a success. He’s going to have to tell Shoko – she’s gonna be so fucking pissed she was wrong.

–--

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to run that one by me one more time, bud,” Shoko says. 

They’re golfing, which involves Shoko actually aiming for the holes and Satoru mostly just whacking the ball as hard as he can. He still doesn’t really understand the scoring and Shoko’s given up trying to explain it to him. 

Satoru sighs. He’d already laid out the concept when he’d had lunch with her and Utahime. Now he’s going over his execution. It’s like, ridiculously simple. “I learned how to give a blowjob last night and now I have a deeper understanding of what it means to be an ally to the queer community. Literally what is confusing about that.”

Shoko nods, setting her golf ball up on the tee. “Right. That’s what I thought you said. Okay, since we’re already on this journey together, apparently.” She lines up her shot and swings. Thwack. The ball goes flying. “Say more. Who was the unlucky recipient?” 

Satoru knees her in the thigh. “Hey, it went, like, super well.” He puts his own ball in place and sets his club up, swings hard. His ball lands in the sand pit. “Suguru.”

Shoko turns to look at him, her face dead blank. “Bro.” She’s got her club raised like she’s gonna whack him with it.

“Don’t worry, it was totally platonic! He said we’re good.” Satoru walks towards the green so at least Shoko can finish the hole. He’s not fishing around in the sand pit again.

Shoko snorts. “Plato is literally rolling in his grave right now at your egregious misuse of that word,” she says. 

Satoru shrugs. “Whatever. It was good, I mean, like. Good for him. I mean. It was fine for me. But mostly for him. So like, overall –”

“Satoru,” Shoko says, getting her 8-iron out. “Shut the fuck up.” She gets the ball, like, super close to the hole. Gonna be under par on this one, probably. Over par? On par? Whichever’s the good one. “So. Re: our previous conversation about thought paths. Like, just circling back.” 

Satoru groans. Not the fucking thought paths again. “I’m not going on thought paths.”

Shoko putts it in. “I’m just saying.” She grabs her ball, turns and grins up at him. “You’re a natural born cocksucker. Can’t let that go to waste, can we?” 

Satoru stares down at her. His brain is like, doing a thing. He hears a buzzing sound between his ears, like a microwave. 

Shoko gives him a firm pat on the chest. “Come on, princess. You wanna drive the cart to the next hole?”

Well, obviously Satoru wants to drive the cart. Why else would he come golfing? 

Satoru’s in an excellent mood when he gets back home. He wants to hang out with Suguru, maybe watch a movie – he’s been wanting to watch this crime drama he didn’t have a chance to catch in theaters. It’s only the afternoon, so they have the whole rest of their Sunday evening to do fuck all if they want to. But when he walks into the living area, Suguru isn't there. The door to Suguru’s room is shut, too. 

Okay, well. That’s fucking weird. They always hang out on Sunday evenings, unless one of them is busy. And Satoru knows Suguru isn’t busy, because he basically has Suguru’s entire life memorized, because they’re best friends and he needs to know where Suguru is always. Which, speaking of. Satoru pulls out his phone and checks FindMy. Okay, so Suguru is quite literally four feet away. In his bedroom. With the door closed.

Satoru marches over, hand on the knob, ready to fling it open. Unless…wait. Is Suguru jerking off in there? Satoru imagines Suguru, in his bed, shirtless, his pants shoved down to his knees. Wrapping one of his big hands around that gorgeous cock. Satoru wonders how he does it, if he draws it out long and slow, or if he fucks his hand hard and fast like he’d fucked Satoru’s throat. Does he press his thumb into the slit, dig the nail in kinda mean? Would he do that to Satoru? Satoru wonders what it would feel like if – 

The door opens and Satoru lets go of the knob like it’s burned him. He puts his hand in his hair, all casual-like.

“Oh, hey,” says Suguru, leaning up against the door frame. He looks a little apprehensive.

Satoru gulps. “Uh, hey. Uh, was wondering if you wanted McDonald’s for dinner. I’m kinda dying for it,” he says, grasping for a single thread of normalcy.

Suguru laughs, his shoulders relaxing, and that’s something. “You have got to eat a real meal,” he says. “Not just french fries.”

Satoru pouts, but he’s secretly relieved. This he can do. “I’ll get, like, a sandwich too. It’s not just french fries.”

Suguru looks at him, like, be so fucking for real. “It’s just french fries.”

“Fine, it’s just french fries, do you want to go or not?” Satoru says, putting a hand on his hip.

Suguru smiles, soft. “Yeah, let me change,” he says, but he makes no move to do so.

So like, they’re just sort of standing there. Staring at each other. In the eyes. Really making a lot of eye contact here. Satoru doesn’t know what to say, and Suguru isn’t offering anything up either.

Finally, Suguru sighs. “Listen, about last night.” 

“It worked, okay, I feel like I understand –” Satoru starts, prepared to give his whole speech again. Like, can one person just listen to him? He put a lot of work in here. He deserves to be recognized, not ridiculed.

“Satoru, no,” Suguru cuts him off. “I need to apologize. You were drunk and I took advantage of you. And I was,” he looks down, a little sheepish. “A little…forceful. So I’m sorry. I understand if you need –” 

Now it’s Satoru’s turn to cut him off. “Wait, what? That’s what you think happened? That you took advantage of me? Dude, I had, like, half a drink. And I thought it was pretty clear I got exactly what I wanted last night.” Which like, he had. He wanted to learn to suck dick. He wanted to learn with Suguru. He wanted it to be, at the very least, not terrible. Success on all three fronts. Advantage? How in the world could Suguru have possibly taken advantage?

“Oh,” says Suguru, but it’s different. He sounds…well. He sounds a little like he’d sounded last night. “Well, in that case. I’m still sorry.”

Satoru wrinkles his nose. “For what?”

Suguru moves in just the tiniest bit closer. “I kind of left you hanging, dude. And that’s not very polite.” He’s smirking now, up at Satoru, and it’s actually very scary.

Satoru inhales through his nose. “Y-yeah. I guess. I guess so,” he says. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Suguru says, his voice low and smooth. And like, hot. Satoru is secure enough in his sexuality to admit that this is very hot. 

“Fix…that,” Satoru repeats, like an idiot. Genuinely, has he been hypnotized.

Suguru nods and gives Satoru’s wrists a tug. “Arms up,” he says, and Satoru complies. 

Suguru pulls Satoru’s shirt off and throws it somewhere in the corner of his room. Somehow he gets an arm around Satoru’s (shirtless!! bare!!) waist and flips them around, backing Satoru towards his bed, undoing the button on Satoru’s pants. Before Satoru knows what’s happening, Suguru has him laid out over the bedspread, fully naked, comfortably propped up on Suguru’s pillows. 

Satoru is so lost. His dick is hard as fuck and he feels, like, humiliated. Exposed. Suguru hasn’t even done anything yet. “What are you,” he starts. Breathes heavy. Can’t finish his sentence.

Suguru just grins up at him from where he’s situated in between Satoru’s legs, his eyes sparkling. “Getting you back,” he says with a smirk, and then he sucks Satoru all the way to the root in one go.

“Oh my holy fucking Jesus God,” Satoru swears, which is a string of words that straight up does not make sense. Totally cool – his brain has just whited out. No thoughts. Head empty.

Suguru’s mouth is so warm and wet around him, and his throat constricts tight around the tip of Satoru’s cock. Like, it kind of hurts a little, but in a good way. Satoru wants to fuck Suguru’s throat but he can’t quite get the brain power together to coordinate that. 

Luckily, Suguru doesn’t seem to need any help, and fucks Satoru with his throat all on his own. Satoru only has to hold his hand loosely in Suguru’s hair, soft and messy, and Suguru’s doing all the work, taking him so deep. He holds Satoru down, pressing his thumbs into Satoru’s hips, looking up into his eyes. Satoru can’t quite catch his breath. Suguru’s so beautiful like this, his eyes shining and his lips wet and swollen. The obscene, wet sounds coming from his mouth have Satoru’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“You feel,” he pants. He can’t get a sentence out. “Fuck, your throat,” he says. 

Suguru hums around his cock, and Satoru can feel him smile. Suddenly, there’s a pressure behind his balls, where Suguru has pressed his knuckle in, firm. Wow. That is a new sensation. It feels insane, honestly. Satoru whines and presses into it.

Pulling off, Suguru grins up at him. “Feel good?” He reaches up under the pillow and grabs something, but Satoru doesn’t see what.

“Fuck you,” Satoru gasps, running the heel of his palm down his ribs. “You know it does.”

Suguru just grins and sucks him back down, pressing harder. He hears the snap of a bottle cap, which is confusing. And then the pressure lets up, just for a second, before a wet finger circles Satoru’s hole. Oh. That kind of bottle. 

Satoru tries to buck his hips up, but Suguru’s prepared for that, has him held down firm with his other hand. He keeps circling, not pushing in at all. It feels so strange and then so good, so perfect, and Satoru’s dying for more, but he can’t ask for it. He can’t. He’s not going to. He’s being loud as fuck now, he knows, whimpering like a girl, but he can’t help himself. This isn’t like anything he’s ever felt before.

Suguru knows it, too. He pulls off again and looks up at Satoru, his pupils blown all the way out. “Ask for it.” 

Satoru’s not. He isn’t. “I can’t,” he whines.

Suguru smirks, letting his touch go feather-light. He ghosts his breath over the tip of Satoru’s cock, but doesn’t swallow him back down. “I’m not going to give it to you if you don’t ask nicely.”

Absolutely not. Satoru will not ask for a finger in his asshole. That would simply be over the line. But Suguru is just rubbing at his rim, letting his finger almost dip inside. And Satoru needs to come so fucking bad. He knows, somehow, that if he lets Suguru in, he’s going to come different. God. He’s not going to ask. He’s not going to beg. He’s not going to – 

“Please.”

Suguru chuckles. “What was that?”

Satoru tries to push down. “Oh my God, please.”

“Please what?” Suguru says, leaning down to press a wet kiss to Satoru’s tip. His eyes are locked on Satoru’s, and he’s so gorgeous like this. Satoru can’t look away, doesn’t even want to blink.

“Please put it in,” Satoru pants.

Suguru gives him a faux-confused look. Fucker. “Please put what in?”

Satoru throws his head back. “Fuuuuck you, man.” 

Suguru just hums, smirking up at Satoru. Literally evil. 

“Please put your finger in me,” Satoru relents. 

All at once, Suguru swallows Satoru all the way down again, sucking hard, pushes his finger in, and crooks it up, hitting something inside Satoru that makes him see stars. 

“Holy fucking – “ Satoru doesn’t even have time to warn Suguru or anything – he comes right down Suguru’s throat. 

Suguru swallows it all, his throat squeezing the last drops out of Satoru’s spent cock. He holds his face there for a long moment, letting Satoru start to go soft in his mouth. Satoru tries to lift his arm, but he’s too weak, too worn-out from coming that hard. All he can do is sit back and watch as Suguru gets up on his knees, moving forward to straddle Satoru’s chest. 

Suguru has his cock out now and it’s just as gorgeous as it had been last night, swollen and leaking at the tip. Suguru has one of his big hands wrapped around it, his thumb and middle finger only just meeting as he strokes slowly up and down. His forearm flexes, his ink black tattoos moving with his skin. He worries at his lip ring with his tongue, spinning it in the hole in his lip. Satoru is struck suddenly with an urge to sit up and kiss him, but that’s not what they’re doing here. He doesn’t move, just watches, his gaze glued to Suguru’s hand.

“Open up for me, baby,” Suguru says, pressing his thumb to Satoru’s bottom lip and pulling his jaw down. 

His strokes speed up, desperate and off-rhythm. Satoru thinks Suguru is going to shove his cock down Satoru’s throat again, and, like, he is super not opposed to that. His own dick makes a valiant effort to come back to life just thinking about it. But Suguru doesn’t do that. His hand moves faster, practically a blur, and he shoots all over Satoru’s face and open mouth. 

“Beautiful,” Suguru whispers, so quiet Satoru thinks maybe he wasn’t supposed to hear it. 

Satoru brings a hand up to his ruined face. It’s sticky with come, and there’s a bitter, salty taste where some got in his mouth too. He exhales, shaky. They sit together like that for a moment, Suguru half-dressed on Satoru’s chest with his soft cock in his hand, Satoru naked and covered in Suguru, both breathing heavily.

“Oh my God,” Satoru says, breaking the silence first. He laughs. “Dude, that was…I guess guys really do have the home court advantage.”

Suguru groans and rolls off of him, flopping against the bed. “I can’t believe I just made you come like that with a finger in your ass and you’re going to chalk it up to fucking,” Suguru flips back on his side to make a displeased face at him, “home court advantage.” 

Satoru shrugs and sits up, looking around for wherever his pants landed.

“No, don’t move,” says Suguru, giving his shoulder a little shove. “You’re a mess.” He gets up and walks towards the bathroom.

“Well, whose fault is that?” Satoru calls after him.

Suguru rolls his eyes, holding a warm washcloth. “Just hold still,” he says, and then he carefully wipes off Satoru’s face. He’s super gentle about it. It’s like, intimate. Satoru kinda likes it. 

When he’s done, he grabs a pair of sweats from his drawer and tosses them towards Satoru. Satoru puts them on, even though he could definitely go back to his room and get his own pants. Also underwear. Because now, he’s sitting in Suguru’s bed in Suguru’s sweats, just freeballing it, with Suguru’s spit still drying on his dick. And he can still feel lube in his asshole. Right. He’s starting to wonder…

“You still want McDonald’s?” Suguru asks, tugging a fresh shirt over his head.

“Yeah,” says Satoru, moving to get up. 

“No, no, you stay there. I’ll go get it,” Suguru says. He smiles, soft, and walks over to guide Satoru back down onto the bed. 

Oh, like, stay here specifically. In the bed. Okay. All right.

“Are you gonna get enough french fries?” Satoru grumbles. The bed is comfortable, but Satoru’s been burned before. Fuckin’ protein freak. 

Suguru grins. “I’m gonna get so many french fries.”

Satoru sniffs and turns his head. “You’d better.”

He watches Suguru pause out of the corner of his eye, a strange look on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, just walks out of the bedroom and softly closes the door behind him.

That leaves Satoru alone in Suguru’s bed, where he’s supposed to be staying. And like, how long is he supposed to be staying here? Surely they’re not going to eat in bed – Suguru hates to do that. And Satoru can’t sleep here, can he? They haven’t done that since college, when Suguru used to get nightmares and wake up screaming. Satoru had held him, laid a hand over his sweaty forehead, waited patiently for the shaking to stop so Suguru could fall back asleep. It had always taken Satoru a long time to fall asleep, after, with the warmth of another body pressed up against him. The warmth of that other body, in particular. He’d never had the courage to ask for it for himself, when he needed someone else in the bed just to get through the night. But it had always been nice. So nice. Maybe he could sleep here tonight, just this once. He likes it here in this bed. He likes the man who would share it with him. 

See, now Satoru’s just alone with his thoughts. His thought…paths. And fuck Shoko for sending him down them. He draws his knees up and rests his chin on them. The blowjob had been, honestly, super good. He has to be realistic about that. Satoru had felt so present with Suguru’s dick down his throat. Watching Suguru’s face, listening to the noises he made…even just thinking about it now makes Satoru squirm a little. He’s never thought about a girl like that. Never been so into going down on anyone. 

And then, today. Suguru’s finger inside him had been a revelation. Fuck. He wants it again, wants more, wants harder, doesn’t even really know what to want, but he’s desperate for it. And, like, theoretically, liking a finger in your ass during a blowjob doesn’t make you gay. Satoru knows this. Girls have fingers, too. And mouths. So all of that, theoretically, doesn’t mean anything. 

But like, he has to be real about one thing. One tiny little thing. Just now, like, twenty minutes ago or whatever. He really liked it when Suguru came on his face. He squirms again, his dick perking up just a little. Like, really liked it. And that…feels like it’s maybe beyond just learning more about the gay experience. That feels like maybe it is, in fact, the gay experience. 

Okay. Satoru can deal with that. He just needs to, like, check a little more. Make sure. That means there’s only one thing left to do. He nods to himself. Yes. He’s simply got to fuck Suguru.

The door to the bedroom cracks open. Suguru’s carrying two bags from McDonald’s, an extra blanket, and his laptop. He plops them all down on the bed and starts unfolding the blanket.

“Get up for a second,” he says. “I’ll let you eat your one million fries in the bed if you let me put this blanket down first.”

Satoru is like, touched. He loves to eat in the bed. It’s one of the best parts of being an adult. He practically leaps up and grabs the other end of the blanket, helping Suguru spread the blanket out over the bed. They set up like it’s a picnic on top, and Satoru greedily snatches his bag from Suguru.

“I got you four hamburgers,” says Suguru, deadpan.

Satoru flutters his lashes. “Suguru, you shouldn’t have.” Of course, when he looks inside the bag, it’s three orders of fries and the smallest box of chicken nuggets, just like he likes.

Suguru opens up his laptop and pulls up the movie Satoru had wanted to watch, hitting play. Satoru’s impressed. He’s sure he must have mentioned the movie to Suguru at some point, but he can’t remember when. As usual, Suguru knows exactly what to do for him.

They finish their dinner while the movie plays, and then Suguru moves the wrappers and blanket off the bed. He slides under the covers, propping his laptop up on his knees. Satoru sits next to him, but he’s not sure if he should get under, too. 

“Well?” Suguru looks at him expectantly, tugging the covers down. 

Right. Okay. Satoru crawls under and scoots up next to Suguru so he can see the screen too. He’s careful not to let their shoulders touch. They watch the rest of the movie, and Satoru thinks Suguru is going to kick him back to his own bedroom, but he doesn’t.

“Wanna watch Old Enough! til we fall asleep?” Suguru asks, yawning and stretching his arm up. 

He lets it fall around Satoru’s shoulder. Satoru totally doesn’t freeze. 

“Yeah,” he says. He relaxes, just a little, letting his muscles go loose, as Suguru queues up the show. 

Satoru doesn’t really watch the screen. He’s mostly watching the glow of the laptop screen lighting up Suguru’s face. The lights dance across his cheekbones, his smooth skin, the shiny metal of his lip ring. For the first time, or maybe the thousandth time, who fucking knows, Satoru wonders what it would be like to feel that ring with his tongue. 

It’s not long before Satoru gets drowsy, and he can’t hold back his yawns. Suguru chuckles and brings his hand up into Satoru’s hair, pulling him down into his chest. They haven’t lain like this in so long, not since they were young. Satoru gives into it for just a second, pressing his nose into Suguru’s collarbone and breathing in.

“You’re tired,” Suguru says, his chin resting on the top of Satoru’s head. “Go to sleep. I set all our alarms, you won’t be late for school.”

“Okay,” Satoru mumbles into Suguru’s shirt. 

He doesn’t need much convincing. He passes out with Suguru’s hand still in his hair.

They wake up to the sound of Suguru’s alarm, and then it’s time to get ready for the workday. Satoru does not have the chance to freak out about the specific way they woke up: Satoru sprawled out on top of Suguru, his leg up between Suguru’s thighs, pressed to his hard cock. Suguru had him in a tight grip, like he was afraid someone would come take Satoru from him in the night. Satoru’s cock was hard against Suguru’s hip, and it was all he could do not to rock up into it. God, he wanted to. He wanted to so fucking badly. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Suguru had said into his hair. 

“Me too,” Satoru had said.

And then they had both gone off to their separate showers, and, ostensibly, both jerked off immediately. Satoru had been so desperate to come that it took less than three minutes. He was dressed and whistling by the coffee pot in less than ten.

Now, he’s at school, on a break between classes, and he has plenty of time to spiral. How is he going to get Suguru to sleep with him? What if Suguru doesn’t want to? Sure, Suguru had liked the blowjobs, but what if he doesn’t want Satoru? He has to get some advice. He pulls out his phone to text Shoko, because, like, who else. 

Satoru nods. That’s a valid point. He does live with Suguru. He could just seduce him in the kitchen. It wouldn’t be that hard. Start on his knees, make his case, and he bets he could get Suguru’s cock in his ass in about fifteen minutes tops. Satoru is good looking. He’s desirable. He can do this. 

Of course, once Satoru has a plan, the universe conspires against him to keep it from happening. Suguru has to go to dinner with clients that night, so they don’t get to eat together, and by the time Suguru gets home, Satoru’s already in bed. The next night is parent-teacher night for Satoru, which is so stupid, because why do high schoolers need their parents to meet their teachers? So they miss dinner together again. And then on Wednesday, Utahime’s in town and she steals Suguru for dinner, because she’s a literal evil demon who came up from Hell to ruin Satoru’s day and possibly his life. 

But on Thursday. Nothing is going to get in the way of his plan. He lets his students leave class early and books it home, so he has time to clean up and look nice before Suguru gets back. Like, casually nice, though. Not like he tried, or anything. He makes sure he meets his own standards, and then he artfully arranges himself on the couch, ready to wait for Suguru.

Suguru’s a little late getting home, enough to stress Satoru out. But not enough for them to miss dinner – Suguru’s apologizing as he steps through the door and walking immediately to the kitchen.

Normally, Satoru would brush it off, tell Suguru he doesn’t have to worry, that they can pick up bento or something. But that’s not in line with his seduction plan. Instead, he leans back on the couch, tilting his head up to look at Suguru.

“Wait, come here,” he says, stretching his arm back, reaching out for his roommate.

Suguru walks over to stand behind the couch. “What’s up?” he says.

Catching him by the wrist, Satoru tugs him in and hooks a finger in his belt loop. “Hi,” he says, his neck still craned back over the couch. His face is basically right in Suguru’s crotch, and he knows this angle shows off his throat, perfect for someone to wrap their hand around.

“Hi,” says Suguru, looping his fingers in with Satoru’s. “Did you want something?”

Satoru shrugs, as much as he’s able. “Nope. Just wanted to see your face,” he says, blinking up at Suguru. 

They stay like that for a moment, and Suguru stares down at him. Satoru catches his gaze travel down, from eyes to lips to throat to lap. Perfect. 

“Go make me dinner, yeah?” Satoru demands, sitting up and dropping Suguru’s hand. 

Suguru doesn’t even argue back, just walks into the kitchen like he’s kind of stunned. This is going great so far. Satoru is, like, extremely pleased. He sits on the sofa for a few more minutes, dicking around on his phone. His skin’s tingling all over, anticipation buzzing right under the surface.

When it sounds like dinner’s nearly finished, Satoru gets up and steps into the kitchen. Seductive. He can do seductive. He walks up behind Suguru, putting his hands on his hips, and shifts him out of the way, letting his fingers linger. 

“Satoru,” Suguru says, confused. He looks up from where he’s stirring vegetables in the pan.

“Just getting a glass of water,” Satoru says, reaching up into the cabinet to get one down. He fills it up, but instead of taking it back into the other room to drink, he leans back against the counter next to Suguru to watch him finish cooking.

Suguru looks so good, like in a way that makes Satoru want to grab him by the neck and bite, which is definitely putting negative points in the ally column. His hair has started falling out of the tight bun he keeps it in, stray pieces damp with steam. He’s untucked his shirt, undone the top few buttons and rolled up his sleeves. Satoru wants to rip the rest of the buttons off and tear his undershirt to shreds. 

“I’m not giving you any scraps, so you can stop hanging around,” says Suguru, amused.

Satoru shrugs. “That’s not why I’m hanging around.” He reaches his foot out, hooks his toes around Suguru’s ankle, and slides up under the leg of Suguru’s pants.

Suguru whips his head around so fast. “What are you doing?”

The pan sizzles in the background. The sounds of their breathing fill the room. Satoru doesn’t say anything, just sets his empty glass down and scoots closer, grabbing the hem of Suguru’s shirt and tugging lightly.

“Stop that,” Suguru says, gripping the wooden spoon in his hand so tightly his knuckles go white.

Internally, Satoru grins. Got him. He tilts his head, slouches down a little, and looks up at Suguru through his eyelashes. “Or what?” 

Suguru drops the spoon and turns the stove off. “Stop me,” he says, wrapping an arm around Satoru’s waist and bringing his other hand up to Satoru’s jaw.

“No,” says Satoru, and he knows the grin on his face must look crazed, but Suguru doesn’t even take the time to notice before he’s sealing their mouths together.

It’s not gentle at all. It’s desperate, claiming, overwhelming. Suguru licks into Satoru’s mouth, his hand moving from jaw to throat and squeezing in a way that’s going to leave a bruise. Good. Satoru whines, trying to get his teeth on Suguru’s lip ring, to tug on it, to see what it tastes like. He can feel Suguru’s hard cock against his, hot and heavy, and he knows how it feels in his mouth. He whines again, wants to beg, but Suguru won’t let up on his mouth long enough for him to get words out.

Finally, Suguru pulls off, his eyes wild. He looks at Satoru, and Satoru wants to say something, he was supposed to say something, he had a whole plan, but he’s been rendered mute. Like, his mouth is just sort of half open and not moving. 

Suguru sinks to his knees and goes for Satoru’s zipper, and that spurs him into action.

“Wait, no,” Satoru pants. He doesn’t want a blowjob in the kitchen. Well, he very much wants a blowjob in the kitchen. He might commit a murder for a blowjob in the kitchen. But the plan. There was a plan!

Suguru freezes, his hand hovering over Satoru’s crotch.

“I mean, not no,” Satoru stumbles. “I mean. I want you to fuck me.” There. He did it. 

Audibly, Suguru swallows. Gulps, even. He’s on his feet in an instant, dragging Satoru into the bedroom. He gets Satoru’s clothes off so quickly Satoru barely notices it happening and practically throws him on the bed. Satoru’s eyes nearly turn into cartoon hearts. Suguru is so strong. He’s saving the throwing idea for later. Like, if there is a later. Hopefully. He sticks another point in the gay column. 

Satoru tries to sit up and help Suguru undress, but Suguru shakes his head. “Wait,” he says, and he carefully takes his own clothes off, with none of the frenzy he’d shown Satoru’s. He folds them and places them on top of his dresser, and then he walks back over to the bed, gloriously naked. Satoru adds at least three more points in the gay column and thinks maybe he should just, like, go ahead and delete the ally column from existence. Like, he clearly does not need it. 

“Please,” Satoru says, breathless. He needs Suguru.

Suguru laughs, crawling over to straddle Satoru. He grabs his jaw, turning his head from side to side. “So pretty. You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?” He rubs his thumb under Satoru’s lips, across his teeth.

“Uh huh,” Satoru mumbles.

Suguru smiles, but it’s not one of his kind ones. “Of course you will. Open up.”

Obedient, only ever for Suguru, Satoru opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. Suguru looks down at him, his gaze going soft, and spits right dead in the center of his tongue.

Fuuuckfuckfuckfuck. Satoru can feel his cock drip against his stomach as Suguru’s saliva drips into his mouth. He goes to close his mouth and swallow, but –

“Hold it,” Suguru says, admiring his own work, and then he slides their tongues together and licks his spit out of Satoru’s mouth.

The taste of both of them fills Satoru's mouth and he lets out a little whine, high-pitched and miserable. Satoru is, like, going to lose it. His hips are fucking up into nothing, searching for friction that Suguru won’t give him. This is torturous. “Come on,” he groans. “Want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” says Suguru. “How do you want it?” He strokes a hand down Satoru’s side, squeezing his hip. 

“Can you…” Satoru says, but he can’t finish the sentence, because Suguru has gotten between his legs and started stroking Satoru’s cock. 

He's slow about it, not letting Satoru fuck his hand at all. Satoru's cock is swollen and nearly purple and dripping all the way down, making a mess of Suguru's hand. Suguru keeps his grip loose, not giving Satoru any more, letting him get desperate for it. Suguru likes making him desperate. Well, it's working. Satoru can't think, can't breathe. He wants it so bad. He feels so empty, when only a few days ago he'd had no idea what it was like to feel full. 

“Can I what?” Suguru rubs his thumb over the slit, smearing precome all around the head. He watches reverently, like the sticky mess covering his fingers is the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“Can you. Like in the video.” Satoru is not letting his plan (or his years of yoga) go to waste. He pulls his knees up by his ears.

Now it’s Suguru’s turn to sit in horny silence. Satoru relishes in it for the second it takes Suguru to recover.

“Fuck,” says Suguru. “Your hole is so pretty, so perfect, just like the rest of you. Can’t believe only I’ve ever gotten to see it.” 

He spreads Satoru’s cheeks apart and just looks, long enough that Satoru starts to get squirmy. He feels exposed again. He’s starting to realize that he kind of likes it. Suguru gets his forearm behind Satoru’s thighs and pushes them all the way back, leans down, and blows on his hole. Satoru cries out. 

“You want it?” Suguru asks, like it’s even a question.

“Fucking, yes!” Satoru swears. 

Suguru laughs. “Okay,” he says, and then he’s pressing two wet fingers in at once.

The stretch burns, but Satoru’s so desperate for it that he doesn’t care. He rocks back onto Suguru’s fingers, trying to angle himself so that Suguru hits his prostate. This isn’t Suguru’s first time, though, and he’s actually evil, like probably deep down in his sick little soul, so he just moves with Satoru and avoids it. 

“Be patient, baby,” Suguru says, like that’s something that’s even possible. 

“I want,” Satoru sobs. “Put it in, put it in.” 

Suguru presses a wet kiss to the back of Satoru’s knee. “It’s too soon, it’s not gonna fit,” he says, but Satoru can hear him grinning. 

“Make it fit,” he cries. 

Suguru laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful sound. “You asked for it.” 

He presses in, slow at first, short little thrusts that light Satoru’s rim up with sensation. It’s so big, so hot inside him. God. Fuck the ally column entirely. Plus one thousand to the gay column. Satoru is gay. He is so fucking gay. Holy shit.

“It hurts,” he whines, trying to push back more. It’s so good.

Suguru holds his legs up, pressing halfway in, pulls out, and then he leans over and gets Satoru’s knees back by his ears again as his hips meet Satoru’s ass. He’s so far inside, Satoru can feel him all the way in his throat. It’s transcendent. 

“You’re so,” he cries. Suguru picks up his pace, bottoming out every time. Satoru screams. “So deep.” Tears run down his face.

Leaning down, Suguru kisses his cheeks, kisses his eyelids, before finally kissing his mouth. Satoru feels so full, so perfect. He’s never felt like this before. Satoru clutches at Suguru’s back, his nails digging in and probably drawing blood. They’re pressed so close together. His toes flex in the air above his head. His cock twitches against his stomach, painful. 

“I’m gonna,” he says into Suguru’s mouth. 

He tries to get a hand in between them, but it turns out he doesn’t even need it. He comes, untouched, all over both of them, squeezing tight around Suguru’s thick cock.

“Mngh,” Suguru grunts, and then he’s coming, too. Satoru can feel it, hot and wet and deep inside him.

They stay locked together, breathing into each others’ mouths, Suguru going soft inside Satoru, for a good minute before Suguru groans and pulls out. He doesn’t let go of Satoru’s legs, though, keeps them pushed up onto his chest. He stares down at the way his come leaks out of Satoru’s ruined hole.

“You look really good like this,” he comments, mild, like he hasn’t just fucked a new religion into Satoru.

Satoru laughs, incredulous. “Yeah? You think so?” 

Suguru nods. “Yeah. Towel?” He’s already moving, grabbing a warm cloth and tossing it to Satoru.

Satoru wipes himself down. He kinda wishes Suguru would do it for him, but. Well. He can’t really complain about anything, not now that he’s been dicked down like that. Suguru gives him clothes again and gets dressed himself, quiet this time.

“Dinner probably got cold, let me go heat it back up,” he says. “Come out when you’re ready?”

Satoru nods, and then, when he realizes Suguru isn’t looking at him, responds. “Sure.”

Okay. Well. No dinner in bed this time. That’s cool. Also Satoru is definitely gay. That’s cool too. Double also, Satoru is in love with Suguru, he is realizing right now in this exact moment. That is super super cool. And Suguru is maybe being a little weird now that they’ve fucked. Like, is this awkward? Now that Satoru is gay and not just an ally? Did he immediately start giving off a gay vibe? God. He’s going to have to go to Shoko for advice again. She is going to be so smug about this. Again. It’s actually so difficult to be friends with her.

Suguru continues to be kind of weird and avoidant the rest of the week. He doesn’t even want to hang out on Friday, and he tells Satoru he’s going up to Kyoto on the weekend. Kyoto? Like, for what? Certainly not to see Utahime. There’s literally no reason to go to Kyoto. Everything Suguru loves is right here in Tokyo. Exhibit A: Satoru.

Unless Suguru does not love Satoru, and now that he’s picked up on Satoru’s gay vibe, and possibly his deep and undying love, he’s trying to figure out a way to let Satoru down easy. Well, does he have to go all the way to Kyoto to figure that out? Like, couldn’t he go to a coffee shop for an hour or some shit?

Satoru angsts all weekend about it, ignoring texts from Shoko and hiding in his room. He’s late for work on Monday, doesn’t even see Suguru before he leaves. He spends all day distracted, mixes up the quizzes he’s supposed to be giving his students. It’s a mess. He really needs to talk to Shoko, sort himself out, but he can’t bring himself to text her.

He doesn’t even have to contact Shoko to ask for her advice, in the end. She shows up on campus five minutes before his last class ends. When he sees her standing outside the door, he sighs and lets his students go early. 

She barges in, snapping her gum loudly. “The fuck is up with you, Gojo?” she says, sitting on the corner of his desk.

“Hello to you, too, Shoko,” he says.

“Don’t ‘hello’ me, you’ve been ignoring your texts all weekend. You. Usually I have to mute your notifs to get you to leave me alone.” She picks up a pen, twirling it between her fingers. Smokers. Always need something to do with their hands. “Spit it out.”

Satoru sighs. “I’m gay.” He sits down in his desk chair and crosses his legs up underneath himself.

Shoko nods. “Right. We knew that one.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We did?”

“Allies don’t usually want a dick down their throats. Now, do you want to crisis about the gay thing, or do you want to talk about the real problem?” Shoko says, raising an eyebrow back. 

She is altogether too perceptive. It’s so annoying. He would never say it out loud, like, not even with a gun to his head. Not even to save his own life. But Shoko really is smarter than him.

He sighs. “The real problem. I slept with Suguru, and now he’s being weird.”

Shoko nods. “Right. And when you slept with Geto, did you think to mention that you were gay and also in love with him? Or does he think you’re still on some fucked up allyship sidequest.”

“Wait, I didn’t say I was –” Satoru starts.

Shoko gives him a Look. “Do you really think.”

Okay, fair. If anyone would know what Satoru’s thinking before he does, it would be Shoko. And she is right. Again. “He thinks I’m a really good ally.” 

“Right. So there’s a solution here.” Shoko throws the pen at him. “Literally just tell Geto you’re in love with him. I know he was fucking you lovingly. I can guarantee you it’s mutual.”

Satoru thinks back. “He did sort of, like, gaze at me with love in his eyes after he spit in my mouth. And he called me baby a lot.”

Shoko shudders. “Okay, that should have been an inside thought. But whatever. You’ve basically been married to him since university. Just go to the courthouse, freak.” She hops out of the desk and walks out of the classroom. “My break was only a thirty,” she calls back to him. “See you later!”

Satoru sits back in his chair, overwhelmed like he is after any time he tries to get advice from Shoko. Truly, she is a whirlwind. But she’s left him with a plan, again, and he does like a plan. He gets his phone out and texts Suguru that he’ll bring home dinner tonight. He can do a conversation. He’s an adult. He pays taxes and everything.

Satoru waits patiently at the dining table for Suguru, dinner laid out in front of him. He does not want to be on the porn slash blowjob couch for this – the memories. He might take his pants off by accident. When Suguru comes through the door, Satoru’s ready.

“In here,” he says, super calm and cool. He has his hands folded in front of him and his back is totally straight. His most relaxed state, obviously.

Suguru stills when he sees him. “You good?” he asks, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

“Yes.” Satoru nods firmly. “I wanted to tell you that I am not an ally.”

Suguru laughs, strained. “Satoru, I really don’t think you’re homophobic, you don’t have to keep fucking me to prove it. Like, no one thinks that. It’s fine. We can stop.”

Satoru groans. “No, no, Suguru. I’m not an ally because I’m gay. I want to fuck you because I’m in love with you.” Ah. Well. He was going to ease into it a little better than that, but whatever. It’s out there now. 

Suguru looks down at his hands and goes completely, totally still. “Right,” he says. “I did wonder.” He looks back up at Satoru, smirking. “Only because you liked having a cock in your mouth so much.”

“Uh huh,” says Satoru. He’s looking at Suguru’s mouth. The silver glint of his lip ring. 

Suguru leans back, hands behind his head. “Anyway, I’m not really hungry,” he says.

“Right,” says Satoru. Is Suguru going to respond to the love confession part? Satoru feels a little awkward now. Especially because he kind of also has an erection from thinking about fucking Suguru. He shifts in his seat. 

“Seems like you are, though,” says Suguru, pushing his chair back from the table just a little and unzipping his pants. 

Satoru short-circuits. “Wait, does that mean…”

Suguru looks at him, his blown pupils glowing like coals. “Satoru, I have quite literally been in love with you since I met you. Now get under the table.”

“Fuck, yes,” says Satoru, scrambling out of his chair and crawling to kneel at Suguru’s feet. Suguru puts a big hand on the back of Satoru’s head and guides him firmly into place, right where he belongs. 

The next time they see Shoko, a few weeks later at their favorite bar again, they’re holding hands and Satoru’s wearing one of Suguru’s shirts. That in itself isn’t so new – they’ve always been touchy, and Satoru’s always been a clothes thief. He’s still got a baby tee of Utahime’s that he likes to wear as a crop top from time to time. But it’s different now, now that Satoru can tug Suguru’s earlobe with his teeth and stick a hand in the waist of his pants.

Shoko stands up on her tiptoes to kiss Suguru on the cheek. “Hi, Geto. Missed you.” She smacks Satoru in the chest. “Gojo. How’s my least favorite ally?” she says, snorting. 

Satoru flutters his eyelashes and puts a hand to his heart. “Shoko, how could you say something so hurtful?”

Shoko steps on his toe. “You’re an awful couple. Stop groping Geto in public. I already know too much about your sex life. Geto, did you know he sent me a picture of your cock?”

Suguru gently separates them, like they’re fighting cats. “Shoko, please stop physically assaulting my boyfriend. Satoru, please stop antagonizing Shoko. Save it for Utahime.”

Satoru pouts. “But how else is she going to understand the context? Anyway, I blurred it, mostly. It was just for scale.” 

“I own a ruler. And I don’t need context.” Shoko turns back to Suguru. “I’m blocking his number.” 

Suguru grins. “I’m not gonna golf with you, though,” he says. 

Shoko considers this. “Fine.” She looks up at Satoru. “I’m not blocking your number. But you’re on thin ice. And you’re buying my next six rounds.”

She always manages to talk him into buying. Satoru sighs and heads to the bar, fishing around for his credit card. Suguru holds him close the whole way, so he can’t really bring himself to care. It’s perfect. 

Shoko gets sick of them after a couple hours, and she’s looking down at her phone a lot, anyway, like maybe there’s a girl texting her. Satoru chooses not to pry, but he files it away for later. He takes it as a win tonight, because he really wants to get home and fuck his boyfriend.

They stumble through the front door of the their apartment, their hands all over each other. Suguru pushes Satoru up against the wall, one of his hands curled around Satoru’s ribcage.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” Satoru pants into his mouth. 

Suguru undoes Satoru’s pants and squeezes his cock. Fuck, that feels good. Satoru loses his train of thought for a second.

“What should we do?” Suguru prompts, biting at Satoru’s collarbone.

Oh. Right. “We should rewatch that porn video. You know, the one from the couch.” 

Suguru chuckles, resting his forehead against Satoru’s shoulder. “Why would we do that?” He starts to move his hand, too slow for Satoru. Excruciating.

Satoru groans, thunking his head back against the wall. “You know. For the memories,” he says, tugging at Suguru’s hair. 

Suguru looks up at him, his lips swollen and wet from where Satoru has been biting at them the entire way home. “Or we could just fuck.”

God. And he just looks like that, all the time. He’s so hot. Satoru’s mouth falls open a little bit. He nods frantically. “Yeah. Totally. We could just fuck.”

“Right here?” Suguru says. “It’ll be a new memory.” 

Satoru swoons as Suguru turns him around and pulls his pants down. A new memory. God, he’s so lucky – his boyfriend’s so romantic.