Work Text:
Rain poured relentlessly upon Kyoto streets, soaking the city to its core. Iori Utahime trudged along the wet pavement, her fatigue magnified by the relentless downpour. She had just returned from an exhausting exorcism mission, and her clothes clung to her body, drenched from head to toe, her umbrella forgotten at school before she had had to rush off. Now, she just wanted to get home and crawl into bed.
She sighed as she made her way wearily down the dimly lit hallway to her small apartment. The mission had been a long and exhausting one, filled with curses and close calls, and she couldn't wait to get home and collapse into a can of beer and a hot shower. She fumbled for her keys, finally managing to unlock the door and push it open, her fingertips wet on the wood. As she stepped inside, she paused. She could hear the worrying fluctuation of the atoms, the ominous swirling of energy, from the direction of her narrow galley kitchen.
"Hello?" she called, her hand on the tanto blade in the holster beneath her hakama. "Is someone there?"
"Utahime!"
Her tired eyes widened as she took in the surreal scene before her. Gojo Satoru stood in the middle of her living room, casually draped in nothing but a fluffy white towel, grinning through a mouthful of noodles. The light of her television reflected off his pale skin, making him appear to glow. His eyes were uncovered, the brilliant blue visible even at this distance.
Utahime's jaw dropped, and for a moment, she forgot how to be affronted, as the small impertinences added up in her slow absorption of the incongruous scene. As the door clicked lamely shut behind her, she caught a whiff of something that smelt a lot like her shampoo. His hair was damp. He had clearly helped himself to her leftovers, which he was currently devouring with an impish grin.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" she demanded, her voice choked with her muted shock.
"What's wrong, Utahime?" Gojo asked innocently. "Aren't you happy to see me? That’s a bit rude."
Utahime glared at him, her exhaustion making her less prickly than usual. She pushed dripping hair out of her eyes, starting to feel the chill and the weight of her wet clothes.
"It's so fucking late, Gojo," she lamented quietly. “Why are you here? Where are your clothes?”
He smirked, looking utterly unfazed by her displeasure as he leaned against the back of her little sofa, the towel precariously close to slipping.
“Came to Kyoto for a meeting with Gramps et al. I got caught in the rain,” he said, eyes big like a kicked puppy. “Like you.”
Utahime narrowed her eyes at him, because none of that explanation had traction in her head. And none of it accounted for his many small audacities — her shampoo, her towel, her leftovers.
"How did you even get in here?"
She was almost too tired to fight him, yanking off her wet boots and letting her bag drop onto the floor in a squelching slump. He disrupted everything in her apartment, making it seem smaller with his presence.
"Dumb question, Utahime," he told her lazily, smiling mischievously as he slurped up noodles.
Utahime trudged to the fridge and pulled a can of beer from the broken-open six-pack. Gojo had opened every container in there, sampled her leftovers and not resealed the tubs.
"Why the hell are you half-naked?"
He chuckled, his eyes dancing while he waited for her to lose her temper with his insolence.
"Well, your water pressure is excellent. I couldn't resist,” he shrugged as she slammed the fridge shut. “I was all cold and bedraggled and shivering. Like you are.”
He slid down onto her sofa, manspreading, munching. Utahime flushed as she took a long sip of beer and watched him do it, because the scene was so strangely domestic that its incongruity made her think that she had never had a boyfriend do this — let himself in, settle into her space half-clad and let his overt masculinity displace the order of her little world. It made her feel strangely flustered that it was Gojo doing it now.
"Get off my sofa, Gojo. And stop eating my food. And get out of my apartment!" she grumbled.
But instead of complying, he looked up at her from the sofa, dimples showing.
"Or what, Utahime-chan? Are you going to make me?"
"You're an idiot," she muttered, taking a long swig of beer, her stomach feeling strange.
Gojo grinned and leaned forward.
"So are you," he teased, reaching for the remote and switching channels.
Utahime flicked her gaze away from his bare chest, swallowing around the little flutter of heat in her belly.
"Why the hell would you think I'd want to see you right now?" she muttered, a veiled question to herself over why she hadn’t yelled at him to leave yet. “It’s so late.”
"I don't know, maybe you want company," he replied casually, eyes on the screen. "Maybe you've got a crush on me."
Utahime nearly choked on her beer, her face turning scarlet.
"I don’t have a crush on you, Gojo,” she hissed, wiping her mouth after she coughed up a little beer.
"Really?" he asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "Most people do."
She shook her head, but her cheeks were burning, her annoyance with him flashing.
"You're so arrogant," she sighed, closing her eyes.
"So," he asked abruptly, blue eyes flicking from the screen. "How was your mission?"
"Long," she answered without opening her eyes. "Very, very long."
"I bet. You smell nice,” he murmured. “Damp.”
"Shut up," she grumbled, taking another sip of beer.
"You really shouldn't tell me to shut up so much," he chided playfully, biting his lip through his smile, his eyes on the screen. "It's rude."
She rolled her eyes and ignored him, finishing her drink quietly as he chuckled faintly at some American sitcom flickering over the TV.
"Did you know there are no clean clothes in your cupboard?" Gojo said conversationally out of the blue.
"I was going to take care of that today," Utahime admitted, stifling a yawn. "Laundry.”
Gojo looked over his shoulder at her, a cheeky grin tugging at his mouth.
"So you're planning on sleeping naked then, Hime?" he cooed, “Why are you conjuring such imagery in front of your impressionable kohai.”
"I am not conjuring anything, you are!" she snapped, standing upright and glaring at him as she slammed the empty beer can. "And stop going through my belongings!"
"Whatever you say, Utahime," he teased, exhaling with theatrical weariness.
Utahime sighed heavily, running a hand through her damp hair and glancing at the clock. It was late. Much too late for this nonsense. She needed a shower, badly, and there would be no time for a soak. She might fall asleep in the bath and drown.
"I'm going to clean up. Please be gone when I get out."
"Sure," he agreed distractedly. "I'll try. I’m in the middle of my show.”
She frowned at him, but his attention was once again focused on the television. He seemed completely oblivious to her growing discomfort.
Well.
It wasn’t discomfort exactly. It was awareness. He had his arms stretched out over the back of her sofa, his broad chest moving calmly with his breath, his hair slicked back and damp. She swallowed, realising again that it was kind of surreal that Gojo was naked, wrapped in her scratchy towel on her sofa. It really made her stomach feel weird.
In the narrow bathroom, she stared at the pile of clothing on the floor that he hadn't picked up — a Jujutsu high uniform, his shoes, a crisp, expensive button-down shirt. His blindfold was on her vanity, hanging suggestively over the faucet. She tried not to think about him, naked and wet in her shower, using her body wash and her shampoo, and failed miserably. She had to force her thoughts away from the imagery, trying to shape her thoughts into a debrief of her mission, and how she was going to report to the higher-ups tomorrow.
As she washed her hair, she wondered idly how long he had been waiting for her. How had he even known where to find her apartment? She supposed it was probably something to do with his Six Eyes. Maybe he had sensed her returning. Maybe he had asked someone where she lived. That was probably more likely. She rinsed her hair, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles.
As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her — only the smaller one left— she shivered slightly in the chill air of the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and tied her hair back, trying to avoid looking at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want her face to look back at her frankly and call her out for the flush on her cheeks and the fact that she hadn’t told Gojo Satoru to leave yet.
"Utahime--" Gojo suddenly barged into the bathroom, making her shriek and pull the towel more firmly around her wet body.
"Gojo, what the fuck?!" she squeaked.
"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, waving away her aghast expression as if it were an overreaction. "Water was off, I assumed you were done."
"No, I'm not done! What the fuck, you can't just come waltzing in here!"
"Don't be mad at me," he pouted, eyes big. "I've brought you another beer."
Utahime, bewildered into silence, lamely accepted the proffered can. He smiled, pleased that she had acquiesced so easily to his presence. And then, there it was again.
The awareness.
Silence rippled over the steam of the bathroom, condensation dripping down the mirror as she at Gojo just looked at one another, wrapped in towels in her bathroom. She could hear the television in the living room and the sound of him breathing. Her pulse was hammering in her throat and her palms felt sweaty as she clutched the towel.
"Can I help you?" she asked, irritated and self-conscious.
"Hurry up, I found a baseball game that is about to start,” he said, softly eager. “You love baseball.”
"A game? At this hour?"
"It's overseas," he shrugged, grinning again at her confusion like he found it cute, teeth sharp and white, dimples deepening.
He was standing too close to her for her to think straight. In the steam, his cursed energy swirled up to fill the narrow bathroom, thick to breathe and so chokingly signature to him that her heart clenched. She could smell him, the steam giving his cursed energy a kind of scent too, some alchemy like petrichor, and that was strange. Because everything in the narrow space was Gojo and yet he smelt like her , like her shampoo, all mingled up with that quintessential essence of his being. It was all clean. Fresh. Her insides quivered. His skin looked soft. She wanted to touch him, she realised, to confirm the fact but that seemed so shockingly compromising. He had a freckle, right below his collarbone. So strange. She thought Gojo was absolutely faultless.
Her head swam. Maybe it was the beer.
"Go," she murmured, pushing him away with her free hand. "I need to get dressed."
He smirked, letting her push him back a step and then conceding, shutting the door behind him as he sauntered off. She waited for a beat, making sure he wasn't about to burst back in, and then breathed out at last. She darted to her bedroom like a frightened mouse.
He wasn't wrong about her clothes. Everything was dirty or crumpled into the bottom of the bed. It made her feel a little annoyed that she was labouring over the mission of finding something appropriate to wear when all she had wanted to do was drink a beer, take off her wet clothes and fall asleep. Fuck that, if he wanted to prance about in a towel without being invited, then she wasn't going to dress up on his account. She pulled on panties and the last cleanish t-shirt she had, crinkled from last night’s fitful sleep.
Gojo was still in the towel when she returned to the living room holding the can of beer he had brought her in the bathroom. His knees spread as he lounged on the couch again, determined to look obnoxiously relaxed in her space. He eyed her steadily in her panties and t-shirt.
"What happened to getting dressed?" he asked quietly.
"What happened to you leaving?" she retorted.
"Game is about to start."
She plopped down next to him, pulling a blanket over her legs, because her courage did fail her the moment his eyes had flickered down her bare legs.
"How about you get dressed?" she suggested pointedly.
"If you want," he grinned, eyes glittering.
"I'd love it."
"But I thought we were bonding in being half naked together."
"We're not," she said flatly, taking a long swig of beer, wondering why his teasing tone made her blood pressure seem a little wobbly.
"Okay."
She looked up when he was silent, and suddenly he dematerialised in front of her. She stared at the space where he had been and felt a strange, faint shock that was replaced by a feeling not unlike anti-climax.
He'd left.
The TV was playing a commercial. She was alone.
And then suddenly, Gojo blipped back into her living room, the atoms pushing back for him as they always did. He was still shirtless, wearing sweatpants now. They were grey and hung low on his hips, his belly and chest lean and muscled. He dropped her damp towel into her lap.
"I don't want the soggy towel you dried your junk with on my lap, thanks," Utahime protested, feeling her ears burning hot.
"Oh, sorry,” he said, insincerely with a smile on his face.
He grabbed it tossed it behind the sofa and sat down next to her before she could protest, closer than he'd been before.
"Is that better?"
"Yeah," she muttered lamely, bewildered, too overwhelmed by the sight of him to fight. "Whatever."
"Don't mention it."
She finished her beer and put the empty can on the coffee table, wondering why she wasn’t getting sleepier. The game started, but her eyes wouldn’t settle on the gameplay. Her pulse was kicking at every bend in the vein, making her attention erratic, her stomach fizzing with an unknown disruption.
"Utahime," Gojo murmured.
"What?"
"Gimme some blanket please?"
"Okay," she murmured, pulling the edge of the blanket out from under her thighs and handing it to him.
"Thank you," he smiled, pulling it over him too.
This had to be the first time that Utahime couldn’t concentrate on a baseball match. Instead, she was thinking of the strange secret world that had suddenly been created beneath a fluffy blanket that she and Gojo were now sharing. She could feel the alluring heat of his body. His knee bumped hers. She shifted on the little couch, accidentally elbowing him.
“Ow,” he murmured dryly, narrowing his eyes at her in mock accusation.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, wondering why he didn’t have Infinity up.
He sighed, shifting, making the ancient sofa dent oddly and Utahime twisted, sinking to the middle.
"Sit still,” he huffed. “Do you mind if I...?"
He lifted an arm and put it along the back of the couch behind her. She shifted again, leaning into his side a little bit. Her head was cradled by the length of his arm.
"Go ahead," she mumbled.
"Comfortable?"
"Mm."
There was still something slightly permissible about this. No line had been crossed. She couldn't believe that she was basically cuddling with Gojo Satoru and so she simply decided not to fully consider it as such. Not even a minute had passed and she could already feel her heart beating faster. This was an unthinkable idea, something truly laughable. They were friends, sure, but they weren't cuddling friends. There was something unsafe about even thinking of him in those terms. She should tell him to leave. She should make him go.
But then again, it was late, and she was weary of the world outside the apartment, and he was warm, and it felt nice. There was a little buzz of beer building in her veins too.
"Utahime," he said gently, his voice a deep, velvety rumble. "You can relax."
"I know."
"I'm not going to bite."
"You'd better not," she murmured, and she let her body relax.
The television flickered in the semi-darkness of the apartment. The only light was coming from the screen, casting a sweet blue glow over them.
“Oh shut up,” he chuckled softly. “Come here. Your elbow is in my ribs.”
And then the arm behind her head tucked in, tugging her a little closer and arranging her like she was being silly. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her hand darting out to buffer the movement and landing against his belly. He said nothing, humming contentedly, his gaze fixed on the game. Utahime, frozen again, realised he had tucked her neatly into his side. A moment stretched. She tried to keep her body stiff and unresponsive, but it really did feel nice. She could hear Gojo's heartbeat and the faint whisper of his breath, and her own breathing began to synchronise with his. Her skin felt tender, sensitive in a pleasant way.
"This is nice," Gojo mused quietly, his fingertips tracing the curve of her shoulder.
"Mm."
Her heartbeat flickered a little, because that was almost a caress. Her awareness darted through her body to every place where they were touching.
Fuck it, it was fine. It was nice.
"Utahime, you don't...really...dislike me, right?"
Gojo’s voice surprised her, even as the words were shaped in their regular styling — nonchalant and personable.
"Sometimes I do," she whispered. "But no. Not really."
He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her ear.
"Oh, okay," he breathed. "Someone said something today that made me think that...it wasn't just banter. They seemed to think you genuinely hate me. And I was trying to explain that that stuff is our....thing."
That was different — for a moment, his voice sounded soft and vulnerable, something suede and pleasing.
"I wasn't aware we had...things,” Utahime whispered.
Gojo’s fingers moved on her shoulder.
"We do."
"Oh."
She could feel the warmth radiating from him, seeping into her skin, the steady beat of his heart, and the way his fingers moved in absentminded circles now on her shoulder. Her heartbeat was not a beat at all. Instead, it was one sudden solar flare of too-pressurised blood.
Fuck.
It was starting to mess with her — the scent of his clean skin, and the smooth, silky texture of his chest, and the heat of his thigh next to hers, and she realised, with a slight shock, that she was starting to get aroused.
What did it mean? What did it mean to get wet for Gojo ?
"Gojo..." she breathed, confused, agitated by her sudden sensual excitement.
"I got a fright when they said it," he said ruefully. "I kinda needed to be sure that it wasn't true."
She blinked, swallowing, wondering if the reason his voice sounded different was because her cheek on his chest meant that she heard it at the source.
"You care what people think of you?"
She felt that vibration of a dry laugh, and heard the smile in his voice. She had to close her eyes because it did something to her, something sensual and emotional.
"Not usually."
"What's different about me?"
He shrugged.
"You're important to me."
"Am I?"
"Of course. You're one of the few people I can be myself around. There aren't many people left that I can say that about."
Her heart fluttered. She clutched the blanket they shared.
"I didn't know."
His fingers closed convincingly around her shoulder now, tucking her into his side tightly. Utahime closed her eyes, because this could be fondness, the permissiveness of old friends. How embarrassing to be feeling this warm fluttering of arousal when all Gojo was doing was being friendly.
But he was warm and solid and so close.
She was wet.
She put her hand on his bare chest, her cheek pressed beneath his collarbone where she had seen a freckle earlier.
"Gojo, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why are you here?"
He didn't respond for a moment, his breath hitching. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled, his voice soft and low.
"I told you," he murmured. “I wanted to be sure that you didn’t hate me.”
Utahime's face flushed, heat rising to her cheeks that she wondered if he could feel too against his chest.
"No, why are you still here?" she murmured. "I'm sure you established that I don't hate you when I let you eat my leftovers and put your damp ass on my couch."
"Maybe I like being with you," he whispered. "Did you ever think about that? Maybe I just wanna hang out."
She smiled despite herself.
"Okay, let's hang out then."
He laughed — a round, happy sound that seemed different to his usual cackle. It made her doubt the veracity of his other laughs.
"Fine, be quiet. I'm watching the game."
"Okay," she whispered, snuggling closer to him, draping her arm over his middle, taking the liberty that their moment of candour had afforded them.
A few minutes passed, but even in the silence, Utahime couldn’t school her mind away from the rampant, hot thoughts. The baseball game was meaningless to her as it played out in front of her. She shifted in his embrace, her whole body feeling hot and tense, and his hand slid down from her shoulder to her waist, tucking in neatly. She exhaled, trying to keep her breathing steady, because the t-shirt bunched where he gripped her.
"Utahime, you're distracting me," he said softly, his fingertips moving idly against her waist.
"I am?"
"Yes."
"What am I doing?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand moved, slowly, to her thigh, where the hem of her t-shirt had risen, and gently tugged it back down. His fingertips brushing her bare skin, even to make her more decent, sent a bolt of electricity through her. To her utter embarrassment, she could feel her nipples tingling with it.
Wet . Fuck. She was so wet.
She opened her mouth, wondering how she could put the brakes on something that hadn’t even started. Overreacting would be significantly more humiliating.
"Gojo..." she stammered, pressing her thighs together, breathless with it now.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think it's okay...for us to be…hanging out like this?"
He chuckled softly.
"What, half-naked, in a dark room?"
"Well, yeah."
"Why not?"
She didn't have an answer for him that didn't betray the fact that she could feel her breath getting shorter, her skin flushing, the wetness between her thighs. In the silence, she tried to watch the screen, but all she could feel was the weight of Gojo's hand on her waist and his fingers gripping the fabric. They moved, ticklish, sensual.
She gasped softly, barely an exhale, because his fingers moved in slightly more convincingly. They slid down, past the hem of the fabric, touching bare skin over the outside curve of her hip.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked softly.
She didn't answer, just pressed her face into his chest, eyes closed, breathing shallow. His hand slid further up under her t-shirt, fingertips dancing over the inward slope of her belly made taut by her tense breath, the cleave between her ribs.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered into the top of her head.
"Stop," she whispered, eyes scrunched shut because her blood was reckless with her emotions.
His fingers, coasting over her belly button, stalled.
Neither of them said anything.
In the tense silence, Utahime let her fingertips hesitantly move over the ridge of his collarbone. She felt Gojo hold his breath.
Her fingertips moved experimentally, moving over his shoulder and down his bicep, her cheek still on his chest but her eye moving where her fingers trailed, coasting over the veins in his forearm.
"Utahime," he breathed quietly. "You're really distracting me now."
"You're distracting me too," she whispered, revering her trajectory, moving back over his arm and his collarbone.
She felt him swallow, his throat working beneath her fingers as she trailed them over his adam’s apple, and her belly clenched in anticipation.
Utahime, almost blind with the fervour of her pulse, slid her hand down his body, over the ridges of his abdomen. His skin jumped under her touch. Mouth dry, her palm moved over the front of his sweatpants.
"Oh," she breathed, feeling the hard length of his cock.
She felt the chuckle against her cheek once again.
"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "That's what you're doing to me."
She closed her eyes and let her fingertips graze his cock. It was hot even through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
"Utahime," he repeated. "Can I–"
"Yes," she whispered, not even knowing what he was asking.
His hand moved from her waist to the back of her head, his long fingers tangling in her hair, and he pulled her head away from his chest and looked at her face, his blue eyes searching. And then suddenly he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Utahime gasped against his mouth as he took her by surprise.
The kiss was chaste and sweet, his lips soft against her own, his fingers combing through her damp hair, and she found herself kissing him back, her mouth opening under his, her tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. She heard his breath catch and he moaned softly, his mouth parting a little wider, grip tight on her hair.
Utahime reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, moving into his arms, pulling him closer, and he groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her into his lap. She straddled him, her knees sinking into the old sofa cushions on either side of his hips, her breasts pressing against his chest. She whimpered against his kiss as his hands roamed over her body, sliding down her sides and cupping her ass, squeezing her hips and then sliding up under her shirt again, this time up her back. He pressed both palms to her tits as their kissed, thumbs brushing over her nipples.
He groaned softly as he broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck and then burying his face between her breasts. She arched her back, pushing her chest towards him, and he nuzzled into the soft fabric, his mouth hot and wet against her t-shirt. She could feel his erection beneath her, pressing against her pussy.
"Oh god," she moaned, rolling her hips against him slowly.
His fingers gripped at her shirt, pulling it up impulsively like he had lost patience with it, and she lifted her arms, letting him pull it off her. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin and he chucked the shirt over his shoulder. His hands immediately cupped her tits, squeezing them gently.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his mouth finding hers again.
"You too," she panted against his lips, grinding down against his hard cock because his hands felt good on her tits, his mouth felt good against hers. "You dickhead."
He laughed breathily, lips against her cheek.
"See? Being mean to me is our thing."
He pulled her closer, kissing her harder, his hands moving to grip her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. She gasped as he pushed his hips up, his erection sliding and pushing cotton against her clit.
"Oh, god," she moaned, feeling the friction building, the pressure growing, her clit throbbing.
He kissed her neck, her jaw, her shoulders, his hands still moving greedily all over her body. Her gaze was unfocused, but she flushed at the sight of his grin in the haze of her arousal, his dimples showing.
"Hime, can I give you a hickey while you get off against my cock?"
She groaned, because it did something to her that he would be so like himself in a moment like this with her.
"God, I'm so close,” she gasped.
"Good," he whispered, his hips bucking up. "Just let me touch you everywhere, Hime."
And then his mouth opened against her neck, blistering heat that shot straight to her cunt, sucking softly while she rubbed herself against his hardness. Utahime cried out, tensing. She jerked, shocked by the dual sensation of him sucking against her neck and his cock rubbing against her clit. She tipped backwards and Gojo laughed, trying to catch her. They toppled onto the floor, Gojo's elbow keeping him from crushing her with his whole weight. He laughed boyishly, as Utahime squeaked, the blanket tangled up with them.
"Ow," she whispered, dryly.
"Weakling," he teased, his mouth finding the same spot beneath her jaw and sucking again, unfazed.
She whimpered, squirming underneath him, making him choke slightly against her skin at the friction between their bodies being fully flush with one another. Utahime felt the firmness of his belly press against hers. The sweatpants and her panties were the only barriers between them, and his hardness ground against her as she wriggled with the pleasant, sensual overload of his mouth and his body against hers.
"Take these off," she murmured, tugging at the sweatpants.
"Yes, ma'am."
Gojo edged backwards to his knees, and she watched him, curious and hungry, her eyes lingering on the bulge in his sweats, the outline of his erection. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down slowly, revealing his cock, measuring her reaction.
"Oh," she breathed, unable to look away.
He smiled at her, a wicked glint in his eye.
"What is it?"
She blinked, shaking her head, her attraction to him making her stupid.
"It's just...big."
Gojo burst out laughing — another round, happy sound.
"Oh yeah?" he asked. "Why are you surprised?"
"Part of me hoped…” Utahime’s voice trailed off, her face burning, trying to stop herself from babbling.
Gojo laughed, his fingers curling around the elastic of her panties, chin tilting in his amusement.
"You hoped that I didn't have a big dick?" he chuckled.
Utahime was flushed, breathless, glad that he was distracting her from the sensation of his sliding her underwear down.
"No, I hoped there was something you weren't good at."
"Aw," he cooed, feigning sympathy. "Sorry to disappoint."
He bent his head and licked a stripe up the side of her neck, nipping at her earlobe as he threw her panties over his shoulder as well.
"Oh, god," she gasped, her thighs clenching around his hips as he moved over her.
He chuckled against her throat, his hand sliding between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut as she discovered the humiliation of what his hands, his mouth, his laugh, his dimples had done to her.
His fingertips slid down, parting her cunt.
"Utahime, you're soaked."
"Shut up," she mumbled. "Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not," he breathed, sounding dazed, his fingers teasing her. "This has me a little fucked up. So wet.”
"Yes," she whispered, her breath hitching, because his middle finger slid up, spreading her slickness over her clit.
"Do you want me inside you, Utahime?"
She nodded, biting her lip, shivering.
"Please."
"I've been dreaming about this for years," he murmured, his fingers moving slowly, deliberately. "Touching myself after sparring practice just because you shouted at me for messing around. Getting off in the bathroom after faculty meetings. Fuck, you’ve had me messed up, Hime."
Utahime gasped, her back arching as two of his fingers slid inside her abruptly, sliding so deep so quickly because of how wet she was.
"Are you serious?" she breathed, shaky, gripping his shoulders.
"Very," he whispered, his breath hot against her throat, his fingers swirling inside of her, the heel of his hand against her clit.
His fingers worked inside her, slow and deliberate. She could feel the pleasure building, the muscles in her belly tensing. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She moaned, her body shaking with anticipation.
"Come for me, Hime," he murmured, his mouth pressed to her ear.
"Fuck," she hissed, her back arching.
Her whole body convulsed, her hips jerking forward, and he laughed softly, kissing her cheek. Her orgasm was sweet, shaky. It made her grip his hair, gasping for the slow bloom of it.
"Gojo," she moaned, her body trembling in the aftermath of it.
"I've got you," he murmured, his lips tracing her jawline, not kissing, just feeling.
Then he pressed his mouth against hers in a kiss soft and slow, his fingers still moving inside her, and she felt another building wave of pleasure bank up.
"Fuck," she moaned, her head falling back against the carpet.
She’d come again on his fingers.
"Yeah," he murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "I like that sound. Do it again."
"No, wait," she panted. “Too much.”
He chuckled, biting her jaw, his breath shallow.
"Okay, okay."
She closed her eyes, her body humming. She was still trembling a little, her heart racing. Fuck, naked on the living room floor with Gojo, his fingers inside her — her mind was popping, lightbulbs cracking like the flash of old cameras on a moment she couldn’t have visualised in her most outlying daydreams. She could feel him smiling against her skin, and his fingers moved, sliding out of her.
"Gojo—"
"Mm?"
He didn't pause, but pressed his palm against her, sliding his wet hand across her pussy, fingers splayed, until he was cupping her entirely. He lifted his head, eyebrows raised in response to her saying his name.
She exhaled, her nipples tingling, because his gaze raked over her face, pupils blown wide.
"You don't need to—"
"I hope you're not going to be all...sensible now," he breathed, his voice raw.
"What?"
He smirked, but some of the usual arrogance had bled out of it.
"You just came twice on my fingers," he said, his eyes hooded. "Utahime. Don’t be all pragmatic."
She blushed, her nipples tingling, because Gojo was cupping her pussy, his voice raw.
“I’m…not,” she stammered.
"But it's fine, I'm not going to ask for more," he murmured, his fingers sliding along the seam of her cunt and over her belly.
"You're not?" she asked.
He chuckled, and his eyes sparkled, his slick fingertips drawing a circle around her nipple.
"Unless you want more?"
Utahime swallowed, damning herself.
"I...I want more," she whispered hesitantly.
Gojo chuckled lazily.
"You want my cock?" he chuckled quietly. "My disappointingly big cock?"
"Oh shut up," she rolled her eyes. "I want to be on top."
Gojo grinned again, his eyes darkening, and he leaned forward to kiss her.
"Oh, fuck yes."
His mouth coaxed hers open, pushing his tongue into her, fervent now where he had been hesitant. He was so hot, so close, and the feel of his naked skin against hers was a sweet, sensual friction. Skin, she suddenly realised, came alive under skin. She could feel his heart beating fast, his breath hitching. His goosebumps became her goosebumps.
"You're going to have to tell me if I'm too much," he murmured, his mouth still pressed against her. “Go slowly. You’re small.”
"Shut up and get on your back."
"Yes, senpai," he replied, grinning, and flipped them over, so that he was lying on his back, looking up at her.
Utahime looked at Gojo beneath her, her heart hammering and her body flushing with this strange arousal. Some very secret part of her was suddenly allowed to step out into the sun.
Gojo. Satoru. His beautiful smile. His irreverent laugh. The way his mind worked. His care of others. His gravity.
"You're fucking gorgeous," he breathed, stealing her words before she’d said them.
Utahime blushed, and then she felt his hands grip her hips, as if she were the anchor for him. His eyes were level on her as she spat into her hand, sliding her saliva over his cock. He gasped, jolting slightly at the sensation, the moment stretching thin and tense.
"Utahime," he said, his voice raw. "I haven't been with anyone in ages."
The silence between them was weighty.
"Me neither," she said, her cheeks pink.
She bit her lip and, rising up first, she lowered herself onto him. They both gasped softly at the same time, their eyes locked, because it took a moment for her to take all of him. She gasped breathily, feeling him stretch her as she gradually slid flush.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
“Keep still,” she gulped. “Give me a moment.”
His pretty white eyelashes fluttered, swallowing thickly, as her body tensed around him. He was thick, stretching her, and it was a lot to be filled with him.
It was a little more than that, Utahime knew, a little more of emotional weightiness.
Utahime moved, slowly circling her hips, grinding against him, the pressure and fullness making her tremble. She braced herself on his chest, her nails digging into his pecs. He groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, making her whimper.
"Utahime," he panted. "Fuck."
"You like that?" she whispered.
"Yes."
She started to roll her hips, chasing the delicious sensation, wanting to feel the sensuous slide of the length of him as fully as she could.
Gojo slid a hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb as she rode him, his eyes dark and intense. She gasped, her whole body shuddering, and he smiled, at last, the return of his sharp grin.
"Good, huh?" he asked, his voice low.
She could only nod, her breath coming in sharp, shallow huffs. And then he thrust up, making her gulp out a cry. His free hand gripped her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh, holding her still as he fucked into her from below, hard and deep, hitting a spot that made her moan.
"Yes, oh god, yes," she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut.
She was so close, feeling a strange merging sensation that she knew was Gojo’s cursed energy threading intimately with hers. It made her feel a complicated, aching satisfaction — a wholeness that was utterly compromising. She was so close to the edge of orgasm, close to babbling the truth, as she rode him hard.
Gojo growled, his grip tightening, and the sudden rush of his orgasm took her by surprise. It was unexpected, the way his whole body tensed beneath her, and her eyes flew wide.
"Fuck," he groaned, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her. “Oh god, fuck!”
" Oh ," she moaned, her body shaking, shocked by how the sensation thrilled her.
"Fuck, Hime, don't stop, ride me," he panted.
She moaned, her hips grinding down on him, her thighs tensing, and the tension in her cunt grew. His fingers moved on her clit, some of his cum slipping out of her, making them slick.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she gasped.
Gojo growled, pulling her close, his mouth on her neck. She felt him suck, his tongue laving over the bite mark he'd left earlier.
She came, hard, her whole body clenching, and he kissed her, his lips on hers. She shook and trembled, her arms weak, her vision swimming.
They shuddered together, sweaty and sated, their breathing ragged. She could feel the slick warmth of his skin, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Gojo wrapped his arms around her, his fingers stroking her back. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him, immediately fearful.
"Holy shit," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Fuck, sorry, I couldn't last. I didn’t mean to…"
"Mm," she hummed, her limbs heavy. "It's okay. Neither could I."
They lay still, their bodies entwined, the television flickering.
"Utahime," he said, his voice soft.
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to come inside you.”
His words, even now, made a strange flickering excitement take root in her belly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, hoping that if she said it into the crook of his neck, it might mitigate the shame in the truth of it. “I kinda liked it.”
He kissed the top of her head.
"That was..."
"A really bad idea?"
He chuckled dryly, softly. She gritted her teeth, because his body tensed when he laughed and she felt it where their bodies joined.
"Yeah, maybe,” he said wryly.
"What are we going to do about it?" she murmured.
He exhaled, his arms tightening around her.
"Well, you can't really take it back," he smiled. "I know how you sound when you come."
"Shut up, you ass."
His chuckle faded slightly, the sounds of a long-forgotten baseball game filling the silence.
"I don't know, Utahime," he murmured. "It was a bad idea, but it feels...really good."
"It does," she whispered, again into the crook of his neck, where she could say what she pleased.
"So…let it," he whispered back. “Feel good, I mean.”
She lifted her head, scanning his face. Her stomach flipped over at this visual confirmation that it was actually Gojo who was underneath her, his cock still inside her as his cum leaked out slightly, his cheeks flushed and his smile a little dopey.
"Okay," she murmured, voice shaky. "Are you going to...pull out?"
She saw a flash of Gojo's dimples.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to," he murmured.
"I see," she said with a small smile she couldn’t help. "I’m all..wet though.”
"I know," he whispered, his hand on the nape of her neck pulling her down so he could kiss her cheek. "But I want you to feel me get hard again inside you. I came pretty quickly so I'm not done."
"You're not done?" she repeated, her eyes wide.
"Not even close," he chuckled against her cheek, nuzzling his nose against her skin.
She felt his cock stir, his fingers digging into her skin. He was already half hard, and she could feel him pulsing inside her when he laughed.
"Satoru, are you serious?"
"Mhm."
"God, you're ridiculous."
He kissed her shoulder, the tenderness of this action making her eyes close briefly.
"Don't say that, you're making me sad."
"Oh fuck off, you're not sad. You're grinning like a moron."
"Yeah, but you could at least pretend I'm sad so that you can be appropriately sympathetic."
Utahime rolled her eyes.
"Sympathetic," she repeated.
"Yup, you've got a lot to answer for," he said lazily, teeth grazing her jugular.
Utahime pushed back from his chest and sat up, still straddling him, and looked down at him. His smile was lazy, his cheeks flushed and his hair messy. He looked up at her fondly, amused and sleepy.
"Me?" she almost hissed. "For what ?"
"Do you not see how badly you've broken me?" he asked dryly, blinking slowly.
Utahime blinked.
"How did I do that?"
Gojo sighed, his hands settling on her hips, his eyes half-lidded.
"Look, senpai, I'm lying naked underneath you on your living room floor," he said breathily, theatrically. "You fucked me so well I embarrassed myself. Me, your impressionable kohai!"
She narrowed her eyes, her hands planted on his chest.
"You are the absolute worst, do you know that?" she mused.
He grinned and it made her stomach tingle, nothing pushed down now.
"I know," he whispered.
"Why can't you just let me enjoy this without opening your giant mouth?"
There was no venom in her words, all the heat of her having seeped out long ago.
"I am letting you enjoy it," he laughed. "I'm about to give you another orgasm, aren't I?"
"Oh really?" she retorted dryly, pretending to be unimpressed.
"I am, and you're going to love it."
Gojo's hands slid up from her thighs to her waist and over her ribs, and suddenly, he tipped her over, rolling her underneath him, making her gasp because it pushed him deeper inside her. He was fully hard now, she could tell, and the fever had entered his eyes again.
"Oh fuck," she gasped, thighs pushed wide by his body.
He smirked.
"Yeah, sometimes, Utahime, you don't have to be such a hardass."
She rolled her eyes, wishing he would at least move inside her if he was going to be this deep.
"And sometimes, Gojo, you can stop talking,” she breathed raggedly.
"Nah, I don't think so," he chuckled, his soft lips pressing against her jaw, and then down her neck. "I think you like my mouth."
Utahime sighed, closing her eyes and arching her back, the heat of his skin and the press of his lips against her throat sending waves of arousal through her. His tongue flicked over her collarbone, his teeth grazing her shoulder, and then he bit the soft curve of her breast.
"Oh, god," she whimpered, her legs spreading wider.
He chuckled against her skin, his tongue circling her nipple, and then he sucked it into his mouth, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Hime," he whispered, his hips starting to move, his cock sliding shallowly in and out of her. "Your pussy feels so good."
"Satoru," she gasped, her thighs trembling.
He moaned, his hands cupping her breasts, and she reached up, grabbing his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.
Had she ever let herself indulge thoughts of this? When he smiled at her, nudging her along the path as they walked to faculty meetings, annoying her with his lack of respect, his irreverence, his arrogance? Had she ever imagined him breathless, sweet, inside her, his mouth against hers and their fingers entwined?
Yes.
When they were sparring and he grinned at her, sweaty and flushed and panting, and she wanted to push him down and wipe the smile off his mouth with a kiss to make him star-eyed? Yes, that too. When they were training and his hands were all over her, gripping her, touching her roughly, holding her at bay while her whole body traitorously lit up at his touch?
Yes.
Yes, and did she push it down because this was not who they were or what they were to each other?
Always.
But also, always him. Always Satoru.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him, the taste of his tongue making her head feel soaked up, saturated with every sweet, illicit, potential thing. Her soul sponged it all up — the softness, the roughness, his cursed energy, his scent.
"Utahime," he gasped, reverent, his hips moving slowly as he fucked into her, deep strokes.
Long strokes to undo her, to make sure no part of her would forget the shape that he made for himself inside her.
"Oh god," she moaned, soaking it all up — his hands on her tits, his lips on her skin, his cursed energy threading with hers.
"Are you close, Hime?"
She nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Please, Satoru," she whispered.
His eyes met hers and she saw the flicker of recognition and a smile, that was his usual self peeking in while he fucked her.
"That's my girl," he murmured, breathless, aching. "My pretty Hime."
His thrusts were deliberate, measured for her pleasure and he smiled breathlessly into her temple as her whole body tensed, her legs trembling, her eyes squeezed shut.
"Oh, fuck, yes," she moaned.
Pleasure was different this time, because it was differently informed. Her orgasm was slow blooming but fettered by the accompanying knowledge that she felt more than she should. It was as she arched underneath him, growing taut with satisfaction and the shaking, crucial sensation of heat and sweetness where their bodies joined, that she realised the peril of her feelings.
And Gojo groaned, because she clutched his cock tightly as she came, gasping, and then, even before her orgasm tapered off, he was no longer slow.
Gojo moved faster, his cock slamming into her, his mouth open against her neck, and she felt her whole body grow tense again, carpet rubbing on her shoulder blades.
"Hime," he gasped, his body shuddering. "Kiss me before I say something I shouldn't."
So she kissed him, her lips parting against his, his mouth open and hot, and then he gasped as he reached the edge of pleasure, his whole body shuddering. She felt him pulsing inside her at the apex of each thrust, and she whimpered against his lips, her body trembling as his fingers dug into her hips. With her body moving with the force of his cock sliding into her, Utahime watched his face, the desperation, as he fucked her hard.
"Satoru," she murmured, biting out the words through the jolting breath, smiling despite it all. "When do—you ever hold—-back on the—-things you say?"
He laughed, helpless and breathless too, pressing his parted lips against her temple, fucking into her so hard that her eyes fluttered.
"Always."
She liked it, the gentleness of his vulnerability in pleasure. He was giving something over to her, she suddenly realised—a rare and beautiful gift.
Utahime wrapped her arms around him, her thighs squeezing against his sides. Gojo, she sensed, would like to feel every part of her touching him. She whimpered, feeling his body shudder through the initial flickers of his orgasm.
"Fuck," he gasped, his eyes closed. "Hime, my love."
She froze, eyes flying open at his words. The moment of his orgasm stretched out, his hips slowing, his cock twitching inside her and then she felt him groan, jerking, spilling inside her again. She held her body taut, mind whirring, as he pressed his forehead against hers, gasping through three spurts of aftershock.
He held himself there, breathing hard, and then he pulled out abruptly, his hand moving between them to replace where his cock had been. Utahime exhaled shakily, because his hand cupped her pussy, nothing of him leaking out.
"Satoru," she gasped, shivering, oversensitive, her clit twitching under his palm.
"Sorry, just..." he panted. "Let me, um...hold on a second."
He was blushing, his cheeks pink and his gaze averted. Utahime was confused until she noticed the faint shimmer of a curse energy barrier, the shape of it familiar and unique. It was sliding over him as he blinked rapidly.
"Gojo," she murmured. "Your Infinity..."
He didn't reply. Instead, he swallowed thickly, shaking his head slightly, like a delusion needed to be flicked away.
"Oh, fuck," he muttered, his lips brushing her earlobe. "Sorry, it was just too much for a second."
She lay under him, stunned, her heart beating fast while she wondered whether this sudden encasing of Infinity that separated them was some kind of rejection. But then she watched, a stone in her stomach, as it faded and she felt Satoru's skin against hers once more. His hand was still cupping her pussy, keeping his cum inside her.
"What was?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Feeling you, feeling...everything,” he said quietly. “I’m not used to it.”
Utahime stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing. Her whole body was buzzing, and she was aware of every point where their bodies were pressed together now, the slick slide of his cum inside her. She could hear the low rumble of his breathing.
"Holy fuck," he groaned, and his weight disappeared, and he was lying on his back next to her. "Utahime, are you okay?"
"Um...yes?"
He glanced over at her, his eyes searching. His hand was still pressed against her pussy and it made her flush, biting her lip nervously, because it confused her.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No," she said. "Um, Gojo...why are you... your hand...?"
"Sorry," he murmured, his gaze skirting away and down her body to where his hand cupped her still. "I don't know, I'm not really thinking. I just...don't want my cum to...slip out of you just yet."
She stared at him, her eyes wide, heart pounding.
"The thought of this ending suddenly felt a bit...intense," he said, his eyes still not meeting hers. "Sorry, I know it's weird. But...I don't want to see it if it means this is over.'
"Oh," she breathed.
He exhaled shakily, finally looking at her face. To her relief, she saw him smile, a little uncertain return of the grin that made her stomach feel so wobbly.
"Kinda hot actually," he mumbled, eyes glinting. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she whispered, because it was, for reasons she wasn't sure she could explain.
His hand moved slightly, the tips of his fingers slipping inside her, like he was pushing the cum back inside. She was so wet again, she realised, but this time it was both of them mingled together.
"Mm," she whimpered, her belly clenching, her pussy throbbing a little.
"You like it?" he murmured, his voice dipping a little darker. "My cum inside you?"
She nodded, biting her lip, her heart hammering.
"I could feel it, how full you were of me,” he murmured rustily.
"Oh…stop," she said weakly, flushing, because his words did something irreparable to her..
"It's okay," he laughed. "I'm not gonna make fun. I think it's hot."
Utahime’s cheeks were pink, and she hummed, oversensitive, as he pulled his fingers out of her.
"I didn't mean to come so quickly the first time," he mumbled. "But... god , Utahime. I thought I'd be better the second time...but you feel so fucking good. You sound so fucking good. It's–it's better than I imagined. I’m sorry that it’s over."
She smiled, shy, and rolled over, kissing him softly.
Gojo grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. She could feel his cock pressing against her thigh, sticky.
"It's not...over," she whispered. "For me at least."
Her ears were ringing with his words, the breathless thing he had said when he came. But it was not the moment to ask him to qualify it.
He chuckled, kissing her cheek.
"You're going to regret saying that."
She laughed, closing her eyes.
"We'll see," she whispered.
Gojo sat up, pushing her hair out of her face.
"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked. "You're tired."
"Mm," she sighed.
"Come on," he whispered, standing up and offering her his hand.
She let him pull her to her feet and she wobbled a little, her thighs aching.
"Sorry, I guess we should have done this in a bed," he mumbled, looking pleased with himself. "I'll carry you."
"No, I'm not some swooning maiden," she retorted.
But he had already grasped her, swooping her up, making her yelp in protest.
"Satoru, put me down," she cried, kicking her feet, but he only laughed.
"Stop ruining the fantasy, Utahime,” he laughed. “I’ve been daydreaming about throwing you over my shoulder for years.”
She bounced on her unmade bed when he dropped her, laughing as she squirmed a little when he covered her body with his. She could feel his spend smearing between them. She knew intuitively that Gojo wouldn't baulk at that kind of thing. He'd be curious, giddy. To be like this with him would be playful, rough, emotional, sweet, confronting.
"Utahime, he said against her belly. "I have to confess something."
She blinked, heart clenching with muted worry.
"What?"
"I didn't get caught in the rain," he chuckled. "My Infinity keeps me dry. I just got bored waiting for you so I took a shower. I wanted to be in your space as much as possible."
She huffed out a laugh, tugging at his hair, wondering why this was endearing to her now when yesterday it would have been annoying.
"Satoru," she breathed as his mouth opened on her belly, his teeth sharp and his tongue hot.
"Yes?"
"I don't hate you," she whispered.
She couldn't say the thing she felt. She wasn't robust enough. Not yet.
Gojo smiled.
"I’m glad that I broke in here tonight to check," he murmured. "I don’t hate you either."
"You've got a funny way of showing it,” she said, smiling hesitantly at the ceiling, at Fate.
"Oh, you'd know if I hated you, Hime," he said, his voice soft, and he was kissing her, his body pinning her to the mattress, his fingers tangling in her hair.
And maybe they didn't need to say it. In the silence where the hum of the baseball game had been, Utahime realised that the rain had been pouring against the glass. It reminded her that the world outside still existed and that the pocket they had carved out was not sealed shut. It made her pulse wobble a little, some small worries riding over her heartbeat. She pushed them away, letting herself feel the gentle reverence of his kiss. Outside, the rain thrashed against the glass.
But inside, with him, was safe and warm and dry.