Archive of Our Own

Suguru knows he’s gay, though he doesn’t know that word yet, when he’s eight years old and watches Howl’s Moving Castle for the first time. He’s enraptured, unable to take his eyes off the screen. When the movie is over he asks his mother when he gets to meet his Howl, when Howl will come for him and take his hand and lead him into the clouds and love him unconditionally, even though he doesn’t know all these words yet either and what comes out of him is more jumbled.

His mother looks at him, laughs. “You mean you want to be Howl?” She says. “Hmm, you’ll have to find your Sop–”

He cuts her off because, no, he doesn’t want to be Howl, he wants his Howl to come and take his hand and–

“What?” She looks at him and he knows that look. It’s distant and detached. It’s a look that says you’re in trouble. This kind of trouble is dangerous though. Worse than anger. He rarely sees it, only in times like when he broke one of her favorite tea cups because he was messing around, or dropped his father’s beer glass trying to ferry it to the table and his dad got real quiet, or when he got into a scuffle at school and she had to come to pick him up in the middle of the day and apologize to the other family. “What do you mean, Su-chan?” She asks, her voice quiet and measured. His skin tingles unpleasantly. He feels sort of sick to his stomach. “You mean you want to be Howl.” She says. It could almost be a question but he knows it’s not. She is telling him that he does not want his Howl— he wants to be Howl.

“Yeah,” he says after a second, “yeah, I wanna be him, Mom.” And the moment passes and they don’t speak of it, not ever again.

His mom watches him watch the movie over and over and over and then hides it or trashes it, he doesn’t know. She tells him he needs to study so he can go to a good middle school and then a good high school and then a good university.

He’s nine. University is very far away. He stares at his ceiling in his room and closes his eyes. Howl, a Howl his own age, holds out a hand and they step out of his window. As they walk Suguru knows he is safe. He meets Howl’s crystal clear eyes and gentle smile and feels a sort of happiness that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He learns, relatively quickly, why his mother looked the way she did when he said he wanted to meet his Howl. He learns not to mention it to any of the kids at school. When he gets to middle school he realizes just how unsettled feelings like his make people. It doesn’t feel wrong, he doesn’t feel wrong, but he keeps his truth close to his heart, quiet.

He goes to a high school a little bit of a commute from his hometown, close to a city as they get around here, but even then he does not mention what he knows about himself, not even to the people he considers friends. He just buries it down and studies hard so he can get into a good university and then a good company and then marry a nice girl and have children who he can help study so they can get into a good elementary school and a good middle school and then a good high school so they can get into a good university and–

He’s better now at closing his eyes and taking a breath and pretending all sorts of things. He creates rules and structures and avoids thinking about being gay much at all. When he can’t stop the feelings he sneaks one of his dad’s cigarettes and goes out into the rice fields behind their home and then a little farther. For one cigarette he is allowed to pretend that Howl is going to come and he is going to be allowed to be happy and safe and then, when the smoke is gone, so is all of that. He brushes off his hands and goes home to finish up studying and text the girl he is dating like he is supposed to.

He has become very good at doing what he is supposed to do and being who he is supposed to be. Those secret cigarettes are the only time that’s not true. He only allows himself one cigarette a day at most because they’re addicting and so is imagining what he knows he cannot and will not ever have.

He moves to just outside of Tokyo when he is eighteen because he gets into a good university because of course he does. In a minor act of rebellion, he gets piercings. He lets his hair grow long, the way he likes it.

When he moves to Tokyo he breaks up with the nice girl he was dating because long distance is difficult, which is a good enough reason to break up as any he supposes. She was very kind and they got along well and, if things were different in some sort of way, he thinks they could have been good friends.

He decides that when he gets to his third year of university he will find a nice girl to date. One who is kind and can fend for herself and wants to get married and start a family. He likes kids so he doesn’t think that part will be a hardship. His life will continue in the same way it was always supposed to because Howl is not real. Howl is not real and no one is going to come hold his hand and tell him he is safe and allowed. He wants that, but he’s always been a little in the clouds so it’s not surprising. He’s learned how to tamp it down and now he only ever sometimes dreams of being free.

He works night shifts at the convenience store, joins a circle at university, and makes friends. He goes to his classes. He smokes exactly three cigarettes a day and his hands flex around air in the shape of someone who isn’t there and never will be.

Second year a girl from his circle confesses to him and he should, he absolutely should, tell her yes and take her on a date. She is very sweet and he can tell his parents would like her— she wants to get married, she’s in the education track, she’s good with children. But some part of him says no and so that’s what he says to her, as kindly as he can. He knows she deserves better than someone who smokes at least three cigarettes a day and pretends they’re with someone else.

Third year, he reminds himself. He will find someone third year.

(Third year he goes out by himself and gets drunk at a club, a little relaxed around the edges of what can and cannot be real. He kisses another man for the first time. He feels something inside him break when he does. A gentle crack. He misses his last train and walks all the way to his apartment in a stupor. He never goes back to that club.)

He doesn't date anyone, even though he knows that he is supposed to, that finding a steady girlfriend was the plan. He’s popular, in his circle, his department. He could date someone. Suguru is good at being good with people. He’s learned that’s very important. He can’t quite bring himself to date though. How can he date when his spare time is studying or working or smoking a cigarette on his balcony and staring at the stars? How can he date when it would be cruel to smile at someone and know it doesn’t come from the bottom of his heart? Suguru has never liked to lie to others. He has never liked to be cruel.

He runs himself a little ragged all of fourth year and tries not to think about it.

Suguru graduates and gets a good job at a good medium size company. A company that’s rather lenient, given that he’s allowed to keep his long hair and his piercings and no one says much of anything about them. There’s not excessive overtime and he makes a decent salary and he works very hard and everyone likes him. Of course they do. Suguru is very good at that.

When cigarettes are not quite cutting it he goes to Nichome and pretends that he is free. One of these times he goes to a hotel with someone, a pretty thing, and it feels so right to be with a man that way that he calls out of work for the first time ever. He drives to the ocean the next day and stares at it for the whole afternoon without moving, just watching the endless tides of blue.

(The guy texts him asking if he wants to meet up again and Suguru politely says no and then, a bit later, yes. The guy laughs at him but kindly and they meet up.)

His second year at his company he is given new recruits to train as a show of confidence in him. He has a good future ahead of him. He gets a raise and moves to a nicer apartment. He has a good future ahead of him. He stares at the ceiling. He has a good future ahead of him. He smokes and smokes and his skin still itches and the cigarettes aren’t enough and he hooks up with the guy he sometimes sees. Neither of them are interested in anything more, which is good because Suguru can’t be in a relationship with a man because he has a whole future that’s been planned out for him. He takes the last train or a taxi home each time they meet. He doesn’t think it will do anyone any good to stay the night, not even at a hotel. His mom asks him when he’s going to introduce them to a girl and doesn’t he want to get married? He has a good future ahead of him after all.

A few months later the guy who he fucks around with lately tells him that he’s met someone so he’s ending it with Suguru. Which is fine. That was the deal. It’s fine. Something inside Suguru’s head snaps and he makes out with someone in a club bathroom because he can, almost blows them before he realizes what he’s doing and that he doesn’t want to. He backs off, out into the humid night air and he’s tired of having a good future ahead of him. He’s tired of it. He wishes it felt like a good future or any kind of future, really.

He presses on, unsure what else to do. He’s good at his job and they’re overworking him a little, he’s overworking himself a little, but that’s fine, it’s fine, because he needs to— because— so he can– so he can–

Suguru leans against the station and pants when he gets off the train from his commute home. His body feels strange.

He doesn’t really get sick so he goes home to sleep off whatever this is. It must be stress or lack of sleep or maybe he hasn’t been eating right? He tries to smoke a cigarette and it makes him feel dizzy. He tries to eat dinner and his stomach rebels. He gets in bed and does what he is never allowed to do– he lets himself pretend with no cigarette, no carefully scheduled time. He pretends he is resting his head on someone’s strong chest and they are stroking his back and kissing his forehead with cool lips and telling him rest now, suguru, it’s okay, let me take care of you and he looks up to meet clear blue eyes and soft white-blonde hair and a gentle grin.

He closes his eyes tight and wraps his arms around himself. He’ll be fine when he wakes up. He never gets sick. He’ll be fine.

When he wakes up he is not fine. He’s sick in a way he hasn’t been since he was a child.

He drags himself to the nearest clinic to see a doctor, then to the pharmacy to pick up meds. He debates taking a taxi home but decides he can make it. The fresh air might do him some good. He heads to the subway, overheated and dizzy, telling himself he just needs to get home and then he can rest.

On the platform he walks away from everyone else and pulls his mask down for a second to try to cool his face. A wave of vertigo hits him causing him to stumble toward the barriers blocking the tracks. It’s not in any real worrisome way, the barriers are there for a reason. He’s not in danger, but it reads like danger anyway. Falling scares him. He knows it’s because there’s a fall he fears. He’s been on the precipice of it for years, the knowledge that there is this gnawing empty chasm inside him and he is just one look away from plummeting.

A hand grabs him at the last second, stops the fall, another hand catching him by the shoulder. He turns and–

“Oh,” Suguru manages, vision swimming with cerulean and snow white, “there you are.” He doesn’t pass out, but it’s close.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Howl says, after a moment. Not Howl. Not Howl, right? “You’re so out of it, damn. Here, sit down, what the hell, dude.”

Which is– not quite right. Suguru sits heavily in one of the platform chairs and curls over his stomach, bag in his lap, head pounding.

“You jumping?” Not-Howl asks, something like amusement glinting in his eyes, maybe not at what he’s said but that’s— that’s–

“That’s not funny,” Suguru gasps, “it’s a serious problem, you know.”

The guy blanches and fidgets, kneeling in front of Suguru. “No, yeah, sorry, it is. I just– do you need an ambulance?”

“I’m fine.” Suguru says, pinches his eyes shut tight and then opens them again to see– god, every one of his childish and then less childish fantasies still just kneeling in front of him. Dress shoes and exposed ankle, a fitted and expensive collared shirt unbuttoned around the throat, collarbones out, tiny round sunglasses low on his nose.

Suguru is so confused. He’s so confused. He must look it because the guy snorts and reaches out. The back of his hand against Suguru’s cheek is almost icy against his overheated skin. Suguru leans into it unthinkingly.

“Yeah.” The guy says and it sounds like he’s teasing Suguru or possibly mocking him, “you’re so fine right now, picture of health.” Mocking then. This is so– “Let me call an ambulance.” The guy is already pulling his phone out.

“You’d– have to go with me.” Suguru chokes out, hand reaching out to stop the guy from calling. “It’s fine, I just need to get home.” Each word is taking more effort than it should. “I really,” he rummages in his bag to pull out the medicine and vaguely show it off, pulls his mask back up over his nose, “I just need to go home and take this and rest and–”

The guy taps his phone against his chin.

“Hmm,” he says, “it’s true I don’t want to spend all day in the hospital, especially for someone I don’t know. I had plans.”

Dick, Suguru manages to think, despite the fact that he was the one who started the whole don’t call the ambulance thing.

The train chooses that moment to slide into the station. Suguru pushes himself to his feet and performs one of the more awkward bows of his life as he mumbles some apologies and thanks. He stumbles onto the train, which is not crowded thankfully. He sinks into an empty seat at the end of a bench and leans against the cool bars, which is not super sanitary but he’s so hot.

He tells himself four stations and then five minutes and then you’re home. He repeats this over and over in his head, hears the doors close and the announcer’s voice, calm and measured. Someone sits down next to him, pokes him in the ribs.

“What’s up?” Not-Howl says to him with a smirk, lounging insouciantly, feet spread into the aisle. Suguru stares at him, open-mouthed behind his mask. “I wasn’t actually taking this train,” the guy says, looking around him, “but I couldn’t just leave a damsel in distress. Imagine if tonight on the news I heard about your untimely demise. I would have felt so guilty, it would’ve cramped my style.”

“I–” Suguru can’t find words. He finds irritation though, reverberating even though the fever and the headache like a violin string plucked. “You’re unbelievably rude.” He says finally.

“Thanks. I’m Gojo Satoru,” not-Howl says, looking at him over the tops of his sunglasses, all clear summer sky blue eyes, “who are you?”

“Geto Suguru.” Suguru responds numbly.

“Well good to meetcha, Suguru.” Gojo says. Suguru gapes at him.

“Do not– don’t call me—” Suguru stutters through half the sentence then gives up. “I didn’t ask for your help.” He finally manages.

“What can I say, I’m a good guy. I can’t just leave a pretty thing like you to get home alone.” Gojo explains with a little shrug and a wink.

Suguru stares in horror, struggling to keep his eyes open against the harsh lights of the train. The thing is, it sounds less like Gojo’s making fun of Suguru somehow and more like he’s flirting. Flirting in probably the most obnoxious way possible which Suguru, god help him it must be the fever, is sort of into.

“Where are we going by the way? Your house? How forward. You should be careful, that could get you beat up, Suguru-chan.” Gojo says and his eyes almost twinkle. He seems delighted by whatever is happening on Suguru’s face.

“Are you serious.” Suguru finally decides to say, unsure how this guy clocked him. “You’re in public, control your mouth.” His head throbs again and he winces.

“Hmm,” Gojo taps a finger against his lips. Suguru watches his finger, the way his lower lip presses in, “I could tell you to control my mouth for me, but,” he shrugs, “you seem really sick and stressed so I’ll refrain as a courtesy,” and then,“what station, I’ll wake ya.”

“Kasuga.” Suguru manages after a second because his vision is swimming again. He feels so sick. He needs to close his eyes and just breathe. He has to be imagining all of this anyway, how does this guy even know that Suguru is gay? He can’t know, can’t just know. Maybe Suguru never even went to the doctor, maybe he’s having a fever dream in his apartment. “I can’t– sleep. It’s soon–”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo pulls his sunglasses off and stares right at him with these big blue eyes and Suguru drowns in them. “I’ll deliver you right to your bed, sweetheart.”

Suguru is going to start a fight. A fight he is going to lose since he can’t even stand up properly by himself at the moment, but what the fuck. What the fuck is happening. He wants to say what the fuck, but his mouth is not working right. He settles for glaring as best he can, trying to get his tongue to move right. Doesn’t Gojo Satoru, whoever he is, have any shame?

Gojo winks at him again which kickstarts Suguru’s brain.

“What the fuck.” Suguru manages. “You’re nothing like Howl.” He adds, because his fever-addled brain thinks that makes sense to say right now. He would be embarrassed but he can’t even feel his face heat up because he is already so hot and he feels so sick and –

Gojo stares at him for a few long seconds. Suguru dimly processes the announcer saying the next stop.

“Sure.” Gojo says and puts his sunglasses on Suguru’s face. Suguru would be upset, but the intensity of the train lights dims and his head throbs once then settles a little.

Before Gojo can say anything else, Suguru finds himself tipping forward as the train starts off from the station with a lurch. Gojo catches him with one easy arm.

“Howl, huh?” Gojo murmurs, pressing Suguru back into the seat and then keeping his hand there like he’s holding Suguru steady. Maybe he is. “Interesting. You must think I’m attractive or something.” He says this with a little smirk, his fingers tight on Suguru’s shoulder. “That works out for me, I think you’re attractive too.” His face is so close and Suguru, fever-dream and fever-flushed, doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“You should be more careful.” Suguru mumbles and closes his eyes and tilts away from Gojo, back to the bars, only Gojo’s hand slips around Suguru’s shoulders and between his face and them.

“Careful, those are dirty. Don’t want to get sicker.” And then he just keeps his hand there, resting between Suguru’s face and the bar. He pulls his phone out with his other hand and starts to fiddle with it, leg jumping. The arm of the sunglasses presses a little uncomfortably into Suguru’s temple but he doesn’t want to move.

“What the fuck.” Suguru mumbles. He stares at Gojo blankly out of the corner of his eye, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling and the little emerald hanging from his ear.

“Upsy-daisy.” Gojo says after a few minutes, pulling Suguru to his feet. He holds Suguru by the waist, one large hand splayed gently across his hip. Suguru does not shiver because of the touch, he shivers because he has a chill from his fever, thank you. “This is our stop, Suguru.” Gojo whispers in his ear.

Suguru shivers again.

“What the fuck.” He mumbles because apparently those are the only words he knows anymore.

Gojo manages to dig Suguru’s wallet out of his bag while Suguru finally just fully gives up, leaning his head on Gojo’s shoulder. How is Gojo taller than him when Suguru already stands a head above everyone around him?

“Okay,” Gojo says, when he has apparently gotten Suguru’s address from his ID and plugged it into his phone. “Let’s go, do you need me to carry you?”

Suguru makes a sound that he thinks gets his point across. Gojo snorts.

“Okay, okay.” He says holding his hands up. “Sue a guy for trying to be helpful.”

Suguru starts to walk and has to pause, dizzy and reeling. Gojo comes up behind him, gentle hand to the small of his back to steady him. It’s comforting. Suguru shouldn’t be thinking it but he’s glad he’s not alone right now. Gojo grabs his wrist and Suguru looks down at it, steps slowing. He watches as Gojo and then Howl holds his hand and tugs him forward. His vision swims. He needs a cigarette. He needs to never smoke again. He wonders how much longer he can contain his want to smoke breaks.

Gojo darts into the convenience store by Suguru’s building and returns with two bags filled with Pocari Sweat and Caloriemate bars and soup packets and a few Oronamin C. Suguru is too numb to debate it, too tired to really comprehend.

Gojo, true to his word, does deliver Suguru right to his bed. He follows Suguru inside his apartment and makes Suguru take off his coat and wash his hands and take his medicine. He’s watching Suguru carefully, while Suguru continues to just stare at him in feverish confusion. Time sort of skips and then Gojo’s kneeling in front of Suguru, who is sitting on the edge of his bed. Gojo’s hand is cool on Suguru’s face.

“I think you should probably get out of those clothes, but I have a feeling my help would not be appreciated.” Gojo muses.

Suguru tries to glare at him, curls in a little on himself.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Suguru.” Gojo says, with that smile that is somehow equal parts irritating and alluring to Suguru. “Lock the door behind me, okay?” and then, his smirk getting downright irritating, “you can do that all by yourself, right, sweetheart?”

Suguru stares at him and then stumbles to his feet, pushes Gojo out of the apartment while Gojo laughs. He slams the door and locks it, and then shouts goodbye through the closed door which makes his throat and head hurt. He starts coughing and he can still hear Gojo laughing.

He shucks off his outside clothes, texts his supervisor and snaps a photo of the note from the doctor, and practically crawls back to his bed. He passes out for about 48 hours, waking only to take his medicine, try to eat, and use the bathroom.

When his fever properly breaks and he wakes up for real he is so embarrassed he could die.

There’s a post-it note on the table by his bed with a number scrawled in frankly unreasonably gorgeous handwriting and a message that’s somehow in even prettier handwriting— gojo satoru here, let me know you didn’t die♡♡♡ Gojo must have left it when Suguru was in the bathroom before he— kicked Gojo out of his house.

That’s what he did, right?

Suguru stares at the note in growing horror as he processes. Oh god. He takes a deep breath and then goes to take a very long shower. He makes some instant porridge and opens the balcony door to let out all the sick air. He picks up his phone and types the number in. Every part of his body feels tingly and stinging with embarrassment, but he was raised with manners and he inconvenienced someone greatly. He should, at the very least, offer apologies. Oh god. He told a random man that he wasn’t enough like Howl. He thinks they flirted. He flirted in a fever daze, he probably wasn’t even good at it, so now he’s in the guy’s head as a weird, terrible, deathly ill flirt. And Suguru cares for some reason. Because Gojo was— hot. Funny. Irritating in a way Suguru liked. Hot, his brain adds again, like scorchingly beautiful.

Suguru takes a deep breath and clears his entire mind of all thoughts before he texts.

[suguru]
hello, this is geto suguru
you assisted me on the train the other day
i apologize, i should have taken a taxi. i didn’t realize how ill i was.
i greatly appreciate you taking the time out of your day and apologize again.

His phone pings while he’s loading his sheets into the washer.

[080-332-xxxx]
u got me sick
sophie-chan (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
how can u make it up to me hmmmm

It might be the right thing, the proper thing, to do actually– to try to make it up to him somehow. Suguru pauses. He thinks of those cerulean eyes and the white hair he wanted to run his hands through and the smirking teasing grin, the infuriatingly gorgeous smile. It’s the equivalent, just in thought, to smoking a whole pack of cigarettes and still not being able to stop. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, goes out on his balcony, smokes exactly one cigarette, and then stops himself.

It’s harder than usual.

[suguru]
i am apologizing to make it up to you, gojo-san
thank you again for your assistance.

[080-332-xxxx]
ur so formal are we not going to be friends now

Suguru unsteadily smokes another cigarette on the balcony and watches the smoke dissipate before he responds.

[suguru]
i don’t know why we would become friends, gojo-san

[080-332-xxxx]
that’s mean

Suguru doesn’t respond. And Gojo doesn’t say anything else, which is good. That’s good. That’s good, Suguru reminds himself and tries to stop checking his phone. That’s good.

Right?

(He puts the post-it note inside the front cover of his copy of Howl’s Moving Castle.

Sometimes cigarettes don’t cut it anymore and he can’t stop tracing the shape of Gojo Satoru’s jaw, cheeks, chin, in his mind.)

His third year at his company is unremarkable, aside from a small promotion and a health check-up where they tell him to stop smoking. He cuts down and then gives up on cutting down. He’s gotten used to being alone. He’s mostly gotten used to being alone.

At every company drinking party everyone asks him why he’s not dating anyone and isn’t Ito-san from accounting cute and she’s definitely into you, senpai and isn’t he planning to get married and senpai you’ve been so helpful would you like me to set you up with someone and his boss laughs and says now now he’s still young let him be a man with an awful wink.

After a terrible company dinner like that he smokes three cigarettes in a row and jerks off in the shower, thinking of ice cold hands against his face and mirrored sunglasses and a summer sky and someone whispering his name in his ear, su-gu-ru.

When he gets out of the shower, feeling vaguely guilty like he always does after he thinks about Gojo Satoru and touches himself, he stares at the faded post-it note. He reconstructs Gojo’s face in his head from his memories. He thinks about looking him up on the internet but doesn’t. The memory is better, in a weird way. Suguru doesn’t know what he’ll find if he looks Gojo up, doesn’t want to know. Gojo is probably, like, married now. He had a good future ahead of him too, Suguru thinks.

By the time his fourth year in the company starts, Suguru doesn’t remember when he gave up counting the number of cigarettes he smokes a day. He turns 27 this year. His mother is getting concerned he’s not dating anyone and Suguru is tired of it. He’s so tired of it all.

In the fall, he smokes nearly a whole pack of cigarettes, back to back to back, which makes him feel nauseous. It’s not enough. It’s not enough. He pulls on clothes he would never wear to work, ones he knows make him look good, high waisted pants and a loose shirt with a low cut neckline, and goes to Nichome to a tiny bar that has him on bottle-keep. He drinks his whiskey and talks to the bartender and the other patrons and pretends, just for a moment, that he can be free. Someone hits on him and asks if he’s here alone and does he want to go somewhere? Suguru says no. He doesn’t want to go home with anyone. He’s here to pretend. Pretend that he can be free. Pretend that he has someone to go home to. Someone like— he thinks of Howl and Howl smiles and shifts and is Gojo Satoru.

Satoru drinks his whiskey and traces the condensation on the bar and thinks about Gojo. It’s fucked up, is what it is. Gojo surely doesn’t even remember him and yet here Suguru is, pining away like they were lovers and not briefly in each other’s orbits. Gojo had been hot, sure, but Suguru doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on him in this weird way. Something about the possibility. Something about the teasing lilt to Gojo’s voice, about the way he got Suguru riled up despite how sick he had been. There was something about the feel of his hand around Suguru’s wrist, the way he pulled him forward like a good future was waiting for Suguru out there. An actual good one, not the kind he pretended he wanted because everyone else told him he did.

He had wanted to follow Gojo. He still does.

Something’s wrong with him probably.

He drinks his next whiskey a little too fast and then another and then another, maybe. He loses count. This whiskey is too expensive to drink like this.

He asks for another pour.

When he leaves it’s late and he’s drunker than he means to be. He can’t go home to his hollow empty apartment and his cold empty bed and his memories that don’t mean anything. He has no cigarettes left and nothing as a buffer between him and his thoughts.

He texts Yuki, a contractor he met at work, who is one of the only people who knows that Suguru is gay. Even though she’s working elsewhere now they have kept in touch. He feels calm when he’s with her and her partner. His text is a mangled mess of words. She understands though. She tells him to hang tight because she was just thinking she needed a drink. She tells him to find a bar called Ocean, sends him a pin. He starts to walk.

It’s easy to find. He follows the sound of voices and makes it to the bigger bar, people bustling in and out. He hasn’t been here before. He doesn’t go out very much at all really, usually just on nights like tonight when the world is too small and the hole inside his chest is too large and deep. He orders a beer and sits at the bar while he waits for Yuki. He feels a little overwhelmed by the sound and the people and the freedom. He takes a sip of beer. Tilts his head to crack his neck. Suddenly there is a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. They must have mistaken him for someone else. He goes to politely remove it but freezes as his fingers wrap around the other person’s and they speak.

“Suguru,” a voice that sends him into a feverish state, like it’s his body’s muscle memory, “holding my hand after telling me we can’t be friends? How forward.”

It’s a voice that he hasn’t heard for so long he should forget the sound but, like a melody you haven’t heard since childhood, he hears it and he knows.

Suguru turns on his stool and stares, heart all broken open. He’s too tipsy and filled with too much want, all spilling out from him, something no timed smoking break can contain. When did it ever? All his careful lies, all the rules he has lived by, tumble down inside him when he meets Gojo Satoru’s eyes again for the first time in almost two years. It feels like the first breath he has taken in a very very long time.

“Oh,” Suguru manages, vision swimming with cerulean and snow white, “there you are.”

Gojo smiles at him, smirks at him, and a crashing wave of sense memory washes over Suguru at the sight.

“Here I am.” Gojo agrees easily, slides onto the stool in front of Suguru, eyes gleaming. He doesn’t let go of Suguru’s hand, just plays with his fingers as he leans in close, a faint scent of amaretto and something citrus. “Now,” he murmurs, taps his foot against Suguru’s gently, “what are you going to do about it this time, hmm?”

What is Suguru going to do about it?

Suguru just looks at him for a second and takes him in, greedy for it. He’s still got that same smirk, his jeans are tight and cuffed, ankles out above his sneakers. His shirt is loose and nearly sheer. He’s still got that dangling green earring, the stark white hair, the aquamarine eyes. And he’s here, in this bar, looking at Suguru like he remembers Suguru. He did remember Suguru. He did remember Suguru and now he’s looking at Suguru like he wants Suguru to kiss him.

Suguru’s lost his mind, it’s the only thing he can think when he looks back on it. Instead of saying anything, he leans forward, grabs Gojo by the jaw to hold him steady, and kisses him. He eats up the startled little gasp and marvels at how easily Gojo’s mouth opens to his. When what he is doing catches up to him, he can barely find it in himself to pull away, to stop the kiss. He can’t stop himself from a final gentle brush of lips, flick of his tongue. Gojo’s mouth is so sweet.

Gojo blinks rapidly as Suguru pulls back, eyelashes tangling like spiderwebs. His mouth is wet from Suguru’s, lips parted like he wasn’t done kissing Suguru yet.

God, Suguru thinks dimly, let me do that again, let me kiss you again.

“At least call me Satoru before you do all that.” Gojo says, sounding a little out of breath. He’s flushed a gentle pink on his pale skin, one that travels across his cheeks and the shells of his ears and down his neck and across his collarbones. Suguru wants to follow it and find out how far down he flushes, what shade he flushes in.

He looks at Suguru expectantly.

“Satoru.” Suguru whispers.

“Yeah,” Satoru says, “say my name again.”

“Satoru.” Suguru can’t get his voice above a whisper. He trails his hand down to Satoru’s waist, tracing his body. He rubs his thumb on the sheer shimmer of Satoru’s shirt. His skin is so hot through the fabric. Suguru wants to touch it with his fingertips. He knows he’s too out of control with the alcohol, the constant want, the constant wish to be free– but he’s here with this person who, in the brief time they were together, sparked that want more than anyone else ever had. It’s nonsense. He wants this man so bad it hurts him. He wants to keep him, wants to be kept by him, wants to buy him a ring. He’s drunk right now, maybe. He bites his tongue to stop himself from speaking the thoughts swirling in his head. He says Satoru’s name again because it tastes sweet in his mouth. “Satoru.”

“Mmm,” Satoru says, “Suguru, that was very forward of you.”

Satoru’s smiling playfully when Suguru looks up at him. He shivers under Suguru’s hand, the gentle movements of his fingers. Suguru wants to kiss him again. He wants to– but that was forward of him. They are essentially strangers, really, and he kissed Satoru and didn’t even ask if he could. Consent is key and he did not get any type of consent and actually that’s not great of him, that’s—

“Sorry,” he starts, “I—”

“Nah.” Satoru says.

“No, really,” Suguru feels bewildered by the situation, his own behavior, the night. He struggles to put his thoughts into words but knows he should say them, “I should have asked before–” The rest of Suguru’s sentence disappears like cigarette smoke because, when he removes his hand from Satoru’s side, Satoru reaches down and puts it back on his hip.

“Okay so,” Satoru says, “no apologies necessary. I’m not upset and I was very into that. I’m mostly talk to be honest so we wouldn’t have gotten there for a while if you left it up to me. I’ve been thinking about you for, like, two years. It’s actually great that you kissed me. God, I keep dreaming about you, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Suguru mumbles, strokes his thumb on Satoru’s waist, squeezes. His waist is so small. “Your waist is so small.” He mumbles. He wants to fit both hands around it. His fingers wouldn’t touch at all but he still wants to do it.

“Suguru,” Satoru says in this way that sounds like he’s trying to pick a fight and also get Suguru into his bed all at once.

“Are you really—?” Suguru asks, a non-question. He’s distracted. Satoru has shifted purposefully and Suguru’s hand is under Satoru’s shirt now, his thumb rubbing the smooth skin there. Satoru must work out, there’s barely any give to his stomach, the thinnest layer of soft over muscle. His skin is so hot. Suguru wants to press his mouth to it. “Have you really—” He wishes he could finish a sentence but Satoru shivers again, fucking trembles, under his hand, and Suguru loses his words. He feels a thousand sorts of heated.

Satoru shifts slightly on the stool, moves toward Suguru. He leans in close as he speaks, his mouth by Suguru’s ear. His lips almost brush it.

“Yeah, I’m a talker.” He tugs Suguru’s bangs gently as he settles back, eyes dark.

Suguru was asking about the two years thing because the thought that Satoru was doing the same thing as him— imagining him, thinking about him— it makes Suguru feel unstable.

“I like talkers.” Suguru says because he’s lost his mind clearly so he’s just all in now, why the fuck not. Something in the back of his head tries to tell him to cool it, that he’s drunk, but he ignores it in favor of watching Satoru’s eyes, the infinite number of blues reflected in them. He wants to kiss him again.

“Shouldn’t you tell me there’s something else I can do with my mouth?” Satoru asks innocently, batting his lashes in a way that would look forced if it weren’t for the fact that Suguru thinks his eyes are just like that.

Suguru stares at him.

“Sweetheart?” Satoru adds with a purr and something inside of Suguru sort of snaps, like cigarettes are never gonna cut it again.

Satoru leans forward slightly and Suguru drags him the rest of the way, pulls him onto his lap, and Satoru makes a little sound that’s going to be central to Suguru’s jerk off sessions from now on. He opens his mouth easily under Suguru’s touch and his hands roam, cup Suguru’s face, run through his hair, trace the shells of his ears, tug at his piercings. He mumbles something into Suguru’s mouth that might be Suguru’s name. Suguru pulls him closer. Satoru shivers as Suguru’s hand crawls up Satoru’s ribcage under his shirt. The way Satoru is kissing him, tugging at his hair, makes Suguru feel like his apartment is too far away. He wonders if Satoru likes to top or bottom and doesn’t care if that’s getting way ahead of things because he wants–

“Geto Suguru.” Yuki’s voice is like ice water on his head. “You did not make me come all the way here to watch you make out with this guy did you?”

Suguru jerks back and blinks at her, dazed. Satoru whines and tries to kiss him again. Suguru, unbelievably even to himself, lets him. He hears Yuki make a noise of affront.

“Gojo Satoru.” Someone says, sounding very scandalized. Satoru pulls away from kissing Suguru to pout and, fuck, that’s cute. That’s so cute. Suguru is fucked.

“Oh?” Yuki says, sounding amused, because she has, of course, heard the story of Gojo Satoru probably one too many times from a tipsy Suguru.

Satoru peers around Suguru’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey Utahime.” Satoru says, as though he’s not breathing heavily and looking fucked out and maybe definitely half-hard in Suguru’s lap.

“Oh hey.” Apparently-Utahime responds in a scathing tone.

“Wow.” A brunette with a cigarette sticking out the side of her mouth says, holding onto Utahime. “Satoru never does a random hook-up or make-out session or anything, he’s too much of a romantic despite how dirty he talks. Who are you?”

“I’m Geto Suguru.” Suguru says automatically, standing and depositing Satoru on his feet. He reaches for his business card case like it’s in his going out clothes for some reason. He sways a little where he stands. Yuki gives him a look that says he is never, not ever, going to hear the end of this.

He’s surprised by the response to his name because the brunette nearly drops her cigarette and Utahime’s eyebrows rise so high into her bangs he can’t see them anymore.

“You’re really real?” She says, after a second. Satoru, beside him, makes an indignant sound.

“What?” Suguru says. He’s drunk too much for this and it’s catching up to him. He feels cold all the places where Satoru was touching him and now isn’t.

“Tonight is fascinating." Cigarette girl says. “Do you smoke? Come have a light with me, I have questions for you. I’m Shoko.”

“Oh that’s–” he says.

“I cannot wait for Choso to get here.” Yuki tells Suguru as she snags his beer. He didn’t even know Choso was coming.

“Choso?” Satoru says, frowning at him. Suguru realizes he’s still holding onto Satoru’s waist and lets go. Satoru grabs him by the necklace, hooks one finger right into it, and stops him from backing up. “Who’s that, Suguru?” He’s pouting like he’s jealous. Is he jealous? That’s kinda cute. Suguru is so drunk right now.

“Suguru.” Utahime sputters from somewhere to his side.

“Senpai?” Someone says from behind him and he turns to see–

“Haibara?” He asks blankly. Haibara, one of his juniors from work, is here, at this gay bar, with a very tall and muscular blond man, who has an arm around his shoulder. Haibara is gay? Context clues point to yes. And Haibara is looking at Suguru who is drunk and being held by his necklace by Satoru, so Haibara can surely infer Suguru is gay too.

“Hello,” Haibara says, a little uncertainly. Suguru watches the blond man squeeze his shoulder offering silent reassurance. It makes Suguru’s heart ache in a way he has to carefully compartmentalize. That sort of casual touch, that sort of casual reassurance and safety, are reserved for only his quietest most desperate fantasies. “Geto-san, are you okay?”

“Oh my god.” Satoru says and Suguru’s eyes return to him immediately. “Are you a player?” Satoru looks something close to upset, shrinking in on himself slightly.

“No.” Suguru manages, “No, I– he’s from work.”

There’s a sort of silence as Satoru evaluates him.

“Where do you work?” Shoko asks finally, with her eyebrow raised. “A gay bar?”

“No–” Suguru fumbles for his wallet and pulls out his emergency business card. He presents it to her in a full bow that makes him feel sort of sick, his stomach lurching. “I’m Geto Suguru from JBT Financial Group, please treat me kindly.”

He feels Shoko take the card from his hands very slowly. Suguru straightens up and everyone is staring at him. Probably for good reason, he’s going to admit that.

Satoru very gently starts to fix his hair for him.

“Hey,” he says slowly, “hey, you’re pretty drunk, huh?”

The soft touch of Satoru’s hands in his hair is more than Suguru can handle at the moment.

“I’m not supposed to be gay.” He explains to Satoru, trying to form his thoughts into words. “But I can’t stop. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Oh sweetie.” He vaguely hears Yuki or maybe Shoko say.

“I don’t even mind being gay,” Suguru presses, trying to separate each word and not slur them together, “s’just that my parents have a plan for me and I don’t want– a disappointment.” He hopefully explains.

“I thrive at disappointing my parents,” Satoru tucks Suguru’s bangs back and cups his face. Suguru stares up at him. Satoru’s eyes on him feels like a physical touch. “We can probably balance each other out on that, huh?”

“I think I’m drunk.” Suguru says miserably.

“Yeah.” Satoru agrees and taps his nose.

“I need to sit down.” Suguru tells Satoru and sits down and puts his head in his arms on the bar and closes his eyes and waits for everything to stop spinning. He feels Satoru sit down next to him.

“Geto Suguru.” Satoru says near his ear, voice soft and breath warm. “What am I going to do about you?”

That’s the question of the day, really.

“I’m so sorry,” Suguru slurs, “can you hold my hand?”

Satoru, without comment, holds his hand and rubs his back. Suguru’s vaguely surprised that it’s without comment, but maybe that’s because everyone else is commenting enough. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but there’s a lot happening behind him.

He’s not sure how long he sits there but eventually he hears Choso’s voice over the crowd.

“Jesus, Yu-chan, what did you do to him?”

“Why did I do something?” Yuki says. “You’re so rude to the woman you love.”

“It’s often you.” Choso’s voice gets closer. “You love a drinking contest.”

“Fair.” Suguru vaguely hears Yuki acknowledge.

“Suguru?” Choso’s face is comforting and familiar. Suguru makes a strangled sound at the sight of it. Something about how gentle and measured Choso is, big brother-like, has always been calming to Suguru. “Okay.” Choso says, pulling Suguru to his feet and away from Satoru which is so sad. “Maybe it’s time to get you home, huh?”

“Satoru,” Suguru manages to slur.

Choso blinks at him for a moment. “No,” he says.

“No,” Suguru points, “he’s here.”

Choso and Satoru stare at each other.

“Hello.” Choso says after a moment.

“Hi.” Satoru says and then gets very close to Suguru’s face and pokes him in the chest. He opens his mouth to say something.

Suguru can’t contain himself.

“I wanna kiss you again so bad— I really have been thinking about you for two years, I’m sorry.” He says this desperately, all in one breath. Something like glee crawls across Satoru’s face. “Can you kiss me again?”

“How about I’ll text you?” Satoru tugs at Suguru’s necklace gently with one finger. “I still have your number if it hasn’t changed.”

“Hasn’t.” Suguru mumbles. “Have yours too.” He adds because it seems important. It’s definitely glee that sparks in Satoru’s eyes then, a bright uncontrolled happiness.

“You kept it, huh, Mr. Why Would We Be Friends?” He pokes Suguru’s cheek with a smile. “Go, throw up maybe, drink some water, get some rest. Take me out somewhere nice next time. I would kiss you again sweetheart, but you’re a little too drunk for all that.”

“Okay.” Suguru agrees. “Goodbye.” Suguru tries to both spin and stay still, holding onto Choso as he bows outwardly toward the group around them in general. “It was nice to meet you all. See you at work on Monday, Haibara. We need to go over the Yamanashi account.”

“Yeah.” Haibara says. “Get some rest.”

“Sorry about this.” Suguru says to him. Haibara smiles at him, shaking his head as he leans against his partner.

“You’re good.” He says. “We’ve all been there, Geto-san.”

Suguru is reminded that Haibara is one of his colleagues that he likes the best so, if anyone was going to find him here like this, he’s glad it was Haibara. He thinks about telling him that but it feels like a lot of words at the moment.

Shoko salutes Suguru with his business card. Suguru nods another slight bow at her and Utahime.

“Sorry.” He says again, at large and then again to Satoru specifically, “sorry– I– you’re a very good kisser and I am sorry for ghosting you and—”

“You’re my favorite.” Satoru says, cutting him off. “Forgiven if you don’t ghost me again.”

“Wouldn’t.” Suguru mumbles and then fixes eyes on Satoru and watches him the whole time Choso and Yuki walk him away, until he can’t see Satoru at all anymore.

“I need a cigarette.” He mumbles to Yuki.

“You need a therapist.” She tells him. “Come on, buddy. Sleep it off at our place, okay? It's the closest.”

Suguru wakes up with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, a roiling stomach, and a series of texts from Satoru.

[080-332-xxxx]
hello this is gojo satoru
u made out with me at a bar last night
do u remember or am i about to get real sad

Suguru remembers. Suguru, against his better judgment, saves the number in his phone before he responds.

[suguru]
i remember.
i apologize.

Suguru takes a shower and the clothes that Choso offers him and waves off breakfast. He smokes a cigarette outside Yuki and Choso’s building before he heads home. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

[satoru]
for???????

[suguru]
are you free later this week?
i would like to apologize and make it up to you

[satoru]
oh i am so free

Suguru makes it back to his apartment and collapses on his bed. He falls asleep for a few more hours, then gets up and forces himself to eat something. He showers again, sweaty from sleeping all day.

He takes a deep breath and texts Haibara an apology. He receives a response that all is well and they can pretend it never happened, if Suguru would like or, if Suguru would like, he could maybe meet Haibara or Haibara and his partner for dinner sometime. Suguru’s not sure how to respond to that. His world feels broken open. He can’t quite reorganize all the boxes and rules that have kept things so orderly up until this point. He takes some painkillers for his head and tells Haibara that would be nice. He texts Satoru asking if Tuesday would be good, suggesting they could meet after work. When he receives an affirmative, he sends a location that is central enough that hopefully it won’t be a bother. Satoru responds see you then, suguru.

Suguru doesn’t know exactly what he’s hoping to gain out of meeting with Satoru, but he feels unable to end things here. He dreams of Howl holding out his hand but, when Suguru looks up, it’s not Howl— it’s Satoru.

Satoru and his cheeky grin, blue eyes, wavy hair.

“I apologize for the other night.” Suguru says with a bow as Satoru, all lanky self-assured walk, comes up to him.

Satoru halts in the middle of a step, eyes wide. “Oh no.” He says.

Suguru perseveres despite this, “I was very drunk and acted inappropriately. I want to apologize–”

“I thought that was just, like, a fun ploy?” Satoru cuts him off.

Suguru blinks at him. “What?”

“I thought you asked me to come out so you could ‘apologize’,” Satoru says and Suguru watches the air quotes, “you know, make it up to me, so to speak. Like, I thought we were gonna fuck or at least we could make out a little.” Satoru winks.

“No.” Suguru says aghast, eyes darting around them. Thankfully no one seems to have overheard. He forgot about this, Satoru’s casual lack of appropriate social boundaries. Suguru being drunk the other night probably didn't reinforce that Suguru actually attempts to uphold said social standards. “Gojo-san, I–”

“Oh no.” Satoru says mournfully, loud enough that a few people walking by glance at them. “Gojo-san.”

“This is serious.” Suguru sort of hisses at him.

“I’m serious.” Satoru returns, indignant. “I want to fu–”

Suguru covers his mouth and drags him away from the station. He pulls Satoru down a side street where not a lot of people are walking and they’re less likely to be overheard.

“We’re in public.” Suguru definitely hisses at Satoru.

“Ugh.” Satoru says. “You’re really apologizing, that’s what this is?”

“Yes.” Suguru huffs. “I was drunk and I understand you said you didn’t mind that I,” he glances around and then lowers his voice a little more, “kissed you like that, but it wasn’t appropriate. I don’t do things like that. I know that sounds like a lie but it’s true.” He takes a breath to stop himself from rambling, returns to the lines he scripted out and recited to himself on the train over here. “I should have asked if I was going to do something like that. It was inappropriate.”

Satoru looks at him, head tilted, sunglasses falling down his nose. Suguru can’t help it. He pushes them up for Satoru. He frowns after he does that because now he can’t see Satoru’s eyes. He takes the sunglasses off of Satoru entirely. Satoru stares at him.

“Oh, I–”

“Yeah, you seem very non-impulsive.” Satoru smirks.

“Sorry.” Suguru says. He clears his throat.

Satoru smiles at him, blinding and quick, and Suguru forgets what he is supposed to say next.

“I accept your apology.” Satoru says airily, snatches his glasses back. “If, in the future, drunk or not, you would like to grab me and kiss me, please know you have my full consent.”

Suguru tries not to think about doing this. He takes a breath. Next he says I want to apologize and assure you it won’t happen again and then a very deep bow and a polite coffee or dinner as penance. Then Suguru is supposed to go home and smoke one cigarette and watch the smoke dissipate. When all the smoke is gone, he is supposed to go inside and respond to his mom who asked if he wanted her to set up an omiai appointment since a friend of hers could get them a discount. He is supposed to say yes even though the thought makes him feel a bit sick because, at the very least, it will show his parents he is trying.

(He is so tired of trying.)

He opens his mouth.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” He asks Satoru. It sounds much more like a date invitation than it is supposed to. He clears his throat again.

“Yeah. You said a few things the other night I would like to follow up on.” Satoru says with a wink. Suguru winces at the memory of all the things he said. Satoru laughs and it’s not unkind but it does get Suguru’s hackles up a little, the self-assuredness of it. “Let’s start slower, hm? Or at the beginning, really.” Satoru pulls a business card case out of his back pocket and bows, presenting a card to Suguru on top of the case.

Suguru takes it with a bow and both hands, muscle memory taking over.

“I’m Gojo Satoru.” Satoru says. “Recently established Head Officer of Advertising at GJ Incorporated.” A lot of things start to click in Suguru’s head, including that the Gojo family owns GJ Inc., which explains, well, Satoru. He flicks eyes up to meet Satoru’s. “Yep,” Satoru says with something between a grin and a grimace, “family company. And yes, I am the heir to all that family fortune and also lowkey the bane of their existence– I’m gay and not very good at doing what people say or following rules. They shipped me off to the states for my MBA. Jokes on them though, I think that made me worse. Anyway, I’m rich, wanna be my sugar baby?”

“No.” Suguru says, aghast.

“Good,” Satoru says, with a wink, “I’m way better at getting spoiled and being a brat than I would be at all that. Well, I think. I’ve never tried being a sugar daddy. We can talk. Let’s go get a coffee.” And then he turns on his heel and starts to walk like he is used to people following him, like he thinks Suguru is just gonna follow him no problem.

Apparently correct though because Suguru, as though his feet are moving without letting him know first, follows.

Satoru walks them over to a large and extravagant hotel where they seem to know him. They are bustled to a small table, practically private, and served coffee– black for Suguru and with an extraordinary amount of sugar and cream for Satoru. Suguru watches him add two more sugar cubes to it.

“Wanna play 21 questions?” Satoru asks.

“I don’t know what that means, Gojo-san.” Suguru says patiently.

Satoru frowns at him. “Call me Satoru,” he says, “your tongue’s been in my mouth so–”

“Stop.” Suguru hisses, looking around.

“You’re so uptight,” Satoru leans back in his chair and eyes him contemplatively. “I’ll ask a question, you answer without lying. Then you can ask me one. You can pass, hmm, let’s say twice? No take backs though, can’t decide to answer an earlier question and use the skip on the next one.”

Satoru is– not like Suguru imagined him and exactly like Suguru imagined him. He’s loud and brash, but in a way where it’s less annoying and more amusing. It’s surprisingly freeing, talking to him, even when he makes Suguru bristle.

That’s probably why Suguru says sure without thinking it through.

“I’ll ask first.” Satoru says. “To set the tone.”

Suguru rolls his eyes.

“How bad is your internalized homophobia?” Satoru asks. Suguru coughs helplessly, inhaling some of his hot coffee. His throat burns. “Two skips only, as a reminder.” Satoru says to him with a grin.

Suguru takes a deep breath and fixes his best polite smile on his face.

“I don’t think I have internalized homophobia.” He says and Satoru makes a loud scoffing sound. Suguru narrows his eyes. “I think it’s more, hm, internalized heteronormativity? I don’t mind that I’m gay,” he stares at the ceiling, trying to work through his thoughts as he speaks, “it doesn’t bother me that I like men. It’s just that it’s not fair to date a guy, I guess, given— well.” He shrugs. “I know what’s expected of me and I’ve always met or exceeded expectations. I’m supposed to find a nice girl and get married and have nice kids. I don’t really know how to imagine anything outside of that.”

He knows how to imagine a lot of things. He doesn’t know how to imagine them in a way they seem attainable. He shared maybe more of himself in the past few sentences than he’s shared with anyone in a long time though so he keeps his mouth closed and the words behind his teeth.

Satoru is evaluating him. “Follow up question,” Satoru starts.

“No, absolutely not.” Suguru cuts him off almost immediately. Satoru pouts at him but Suguru won’t be swayed. “You made up the rules.” He points out.

“One follow up question allowed, didn’t I say that?” Satoru bargains. He sighs dramatically at the look Suguru gives him. “Fine, fine. Your turn, what’s your question?”

What is Suguru’s question?

“How did you clock me on the train back then?” He asks.

Satoru stares at him, mouth open, and then starts to laugh. “That’s been weighing on you, huh darling?”

“Can you please stop calling me terms of endearment in English?” Suguru deadpans, because he absolutely knows the answer is going to be no.

“No,” Satoru says gleefully. “Hmm,” he taps his finger against his mouth, “I am not sure exactly. I remember just, like, I saw you and thought damn this guy is gorgeous and possibly dying,” Suguru looks down at his coffee, “and there was something– I don’t know. The way you leaned into my hand. The way you said oh there you are and there was something like relief in your eyes? When I said something inappropriate you didn’t get mad about what I said, you got mad someone might hear? So I just ran with it. I always do things purely off vibes. I’ve never had a thought in my life.”

“You have an MBA.” Suguru counters.

“You can ask my parents, I’m certain they’ll tell you I’ve never had a thought in my life.” Satoru says this with a shrug that is a little too careless. It makes Suguru want to know more, even though he shouldn’t ask. It’s none of his business.

“Why would they say that?” Suguru frowns, unable to stop himself from asking.

“Wow, no follow up questions, Suguru, what the hell.”

Suguru stares at him and takes a deep breath. He tries not to say what he is thinking, which is you are so annoying. He grits his teeth. Why is he so into how annoying Satoru is? Is something wrong with him? He smiles peaceably at Satoru and holds up his hands in mock defeat.

“Okay, my turn. Was I your first kiss?” Satoru asks, leaning in with wiggling eyebrows.

“No.” Suguru rolls his eyes. “But you should have clarified if you meant my first kiss with a guy or not. Your questions are shit.”

Satoru pretends to throw a sugar cube at him. It makes Suguru laugh, his little expression of faux anger, the aborted throw, the gleam in his eyes.

“Was I your first kiss with a guy?” Satoru amends.

“No,” Suguru says, “and now I get to ask two questions too. You said that you’ve been thinking about me for two years,” he holds up a finger when Satoru starts to answer, “what have you been thinking about?”

“Who was that man?” Satoru rests his chin in his hand and stares at him. “Why did he never text me back? What’s he doing right now? Does he remember my name? And then things you’ll get mad if I say in public, Geto-san.”

“Tell me one.” Suguru says without thinking, mouth dry.

“Is that your second question?” Satoru asks and then smirks. “No, my thoughts are mine, you’ll need to earn that. What’s your real second question?”

Suguru doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what any of this is. He looks at the wreckage of rules and structure inside his head. He can’t figure out where he wants to go from here. He needs to reel himself in but he finds he doesn’t want to. He feels almost the same as he did the other night, like just being around Satoru is enough to make him tipsy. He wants to know more about Satoru. He wants to make him laugh again.

“What was your MBA thesis on?” He asks blankly. Satoru starts to laugh and Suguru feels a little thrum of pride.

“Social media and advertising. My turn, you’ve never dated a man, I assume, given,” he waves his hands, “have you ever fucked a man?”

Suguru’s pissed off for unknown reasons.

“Why are you fixated on my sex life?” He retorts. Satoru grins at him. “You know what, skip.” Suguru says and Satoru pouts. “My turn for a question, why are you so fixated on my sex life?”

“Skip.” Satoru shoots back. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Skip.” Suguru seethes. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yeah.” Satoru says and blinks innocently at him. “So bad it’s making me dumb.”

Suguru takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee. He tries to ignore the way his whole body is lit up, yeah just bouncing around his head.

“My turn for a question, do you like your job?” Satoru asks, smiling politely at Suguru.

Suguru has whiplash. He fists his hands on his knees.

“It’s fine.” He says. “Yeah. I’m good at it and I like being good at things. It’s fast-paced so I never feel bored.”

Satoru nods and eats a sugar cube right from the bowl on the table. Suguru doesn’t know what the fuck is happening anymore. It’s Tuesday and it’s almost 7:30 in the evening. Suguru has work tomorrow. He should finish his coffee and go the fuck home. He repeats this to himself twice. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Suguru asks, because he is not going to finish his coffee and go the fuck home. He probably knew that from the second he saw Satoru walk out of the train station. He probably knew that from the second he asked Satoru to meet him.

“Depends on why.” Satoru says cheerily.

Suguru takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling. “You are so,” he grits, “annoying.”

“Thanks.” Satoru says. “Let’s go.”

Satoru walks them right into the lobby and up to the front desk. He asks for a room, his nails clicking on the counter as he waits. Suguru knows this could get messy for him and his heart but he figures he’ll deal with that later. There’s no way he can walk away now, especially not when Satoru turns around and looks at him with those clear blue eyes, a keycard flipping between his fingers.

“You clean?” Satoru whispers as they wait for the elevator. He’s so close to Suguru’s ear that Suguru can practically feel the brush of his lips. Satoru touches the side of Suguru’s hand gently as he speaks, a trace of his finger that makes Suguru feel dizzy for some reason.

“Yeah.” Suguru says.

“Me too,” Satoru murmurs, as the door dings open, “have results somewhere on my phone.”

“Me too–” Suguru cuts off his sentence as they enter the elevator, a few other hotel guests following them. The woman running the elevator smiles politely and Satoru tells her the 10th floor.

The ride is very long. He shows Satoru his phone, Satoru shows him his. Satoru touches the side of his pinky again. Suguru full body shivers.

Suguru barely lets Satoru kick off his shoes before he’s pushing him up against the hotel room door. Satoru laughs, an airy cackle that sends all the nerves in Suguru’s body thrumming. He would worry that he seems too eager, but Satoru’s grabbing at his tie and yanking the knot down, already unbuttoning Suguru’s shirt. Suguru almost doesn’t know what to do with this version of Satoru, little pants escaping his mouth as he tilts his head back easily to give Suguru access. Suguru nips and licks down Satoru’s neck, unreasonably turned on by the taste of Satoru’s skin on his tongue. He gets some more buttons undone and sucks gently on Satoru’s neck, low so he can hide it under his collar.

“Oh that’s good,” Satoru moans, arching into him, “do that again, harder. I love that, it feels good.” His voice is breathy, punched out. Suguru feels his dick twitch. He’s harder than he should be from just a few kisses and the sounds Satoru is making. He pushes a thigh between Satoru’s legs, one of Satoru’s between his. Suguru wants Satoru to feel him, hard and wanting, as he sucks another hickey onto Satoru’s skin. “Yeah,” Satoru says on an exhale, grinding against his thigh, “yeah, like that, Suguru.”

So Suguru does it again, pressing their bodies together, biting at Satoru’s skin and leaving marks that makes Satoru whine. He likes the way Satoru sounds. He likes it a lot, which is why he notices when Satoru sounds slightly softer than before. Suguru glances up to see Satoru’s hand over his mouth.

“You sound good,” he pulls Satoru’s hand away from his face, “don’t do that, make sure I can hear you, make sure I can see you.”

Satoru makes a desperate sound. He tugs at the lapels of Suguru’s nearly-undone shirt, pulling their faces together. Satoru’s mouth is open and messy under Suguru’s. It’s so good. Suguru doesn’t know where to touch. He wants to touch everywhere.

“Fuck,” Satoru squirms against the door. Suguru pulls back a little and palms him, watches Satoru’s face as his eyes go unfocused. He kicks his hips into Suguru’s hand, arches into a kiss. “Feels good,” he chants, “Suguru, feels good, keep doing that, get me off.”

Suguru taps on Satoru’s mouth with his free hand. Satoru looks at him dazed and then opens it with a whine. Suguru slides a finger in, then two, then three, entranced by how Satoru just takes it, eyes fluttering shut, mouth stretching at the corners. Satoru gags slightly, blinks away tears, and makes a muffled panting sound around Suguru’s fingers that goes right to Suguru’s dick.

“You okay?” He whispers into Satoru’s ear, bites at his earlobe. He pulls back, pulls out his fingers, so they can lock eyes, so Satoru can tell him to stop. Spit trails from his fingers to Satoru’s lip, snaps.

“So fucking good, keep going,” Satoru opens his mouth again, waiting. Suguru slides two fingers in, tugs at Satoru’s tongue.

“Fuck, you’re pretty.” Suguru whispers. He can’t decide if he wants to look at his fingers pushing in and out or meet Satoru’s eyes, which are hot and dark and watching him. He fucks his fingers a little deeper and Satoru gags again, tears pricking his eyes. “Fuck.” Suguru repeats. Satoru bites the tips of Suguru’s fingers when he drags them out. He feels like he’s overheated, steps back and unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tosses it and his tie aside. He wants Satoru in his mouth. “Okay if I blow you?” He asks, dropping to his knees.

“No complaints here,” Satoru gasps out and puts his hands in Suguru’s hair, undoing his bun and tossing the elastic aside, “open that mouth for me, pretty boy.”

“You’re insufferable,” Suguru tells him, as he undoes Satoru’s belt, gets his pants down and off. He licks at the damp spot on Satoru’s boxers which makes Satoru jerk, caught between the door and Suguru.

“Don’t– ah– tease.” Satoru tugs at his hair as Suguru mouths him over his boxers, feels the hot pulse of him.

“I’m not.” Suguru nudges Satoru’s clothed dick with his face, presses wet kisses. He rubs his cheek against the damp material and looks up at Satoru innocently.

“You fucking are.” Satoru gasps. “Fuck–”

Suguru grins and pulls Satoru’s boxers down to get his dick out, hard and leaking in his hand. Satoru looks so hot looking down at him with desperate eyes, hand tight in Suguru’s hair, that Suguru feels like he’s going to come just from this. He holds Satoru’s dick by the base and taps it on his lips, drags it across his cheeks leaving a smear of precome. He sticks his tongue out and pushes the head against it, doesn’t look away from Satoru.

Satoru’s lip is clenched so hard between his teeth Suguru thinks he might draw blood.

“Careful.” Suguru lifts up. He thumbs at Satoru’s mouth to free his lower lip, presses soft kisses where his teeth have made a little indent. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You’re the weirdest friend with benefits I’ve ever had.” Satoru mumbles as Suguru sinks back down to his knees. “I’ve only had two though so maybe my sample size is– oh my god.”

Suguru feels something weird and possessive flaring in the base of his gut when Satoru says that. He ignores it for the moment because it’s nonsensical. All he knows is he has no interest in hearing the rest of that sentence or anything about other men Satoru has fucked and he’s going to make Satoru forget about them too. He licks Satoru’s dick into his mouth, takes him down, and swallows around him when he feels Satoru hit the back of his throat.

“Oh my god,” Satoru groans again, other hand coming up to fist in Suguru’s hair. “Fuck.” Suguru feels spit drip out of the corner of his stretched mouth as he pushes down, presses his nose into the hair at the base of Satoru’s dick. When he pulls off he has to gasp in air, spit dripping down his chin. He sets up a rhythm working the bottom of Satoru’s dick with his hand for a while, then takes Satoru all the way down again. The salty heaviness of Satoru in his mouth, throat, is intoxicating. He chokes himself on Satoru’s dick a few more times, stroking him in between. When he pulls off the next time he kisses and sucks at the base and then the head of Satoru’s cock to give himself a second to catch his breath. Satoru mumbles a string of curses, gasps out his name when Suguru swallows him down again. “Suguru– Suguru– god–” Suguru’s never had much of a gag reflex and he uses that to his advantage as Satoru’s hips kick up unconsciously. Suguru lets his jaw and tongue relax so Satoru can just fuck into his mouth, the way he knows he likes when guys do for him. Satoru starts tugging at his hair hard, presses Suguru’s nose into his stomach with a groan, curling around him a little. “Gonna– Suguru– gonna–”

Suguru wants to see him come, wants to watch his face. He also doesn’t want to back off, so he doesn’t. He tightens his grip on Satoru’s hips and Satoru jerks hard and comes, hot and bitter down Suguru’s throat. Suguru is unreasonably turned on. He likes giving head sure, but he feels like if he got his hand on his cock right now it wouldn’t take more than a few strokes for him to come too.

He works Satoru through it, takes him down from the high slow, mouthing at him, enjoying the little stuttered ah’s that keep falling out of Satoru’s mouth, the little twitches of his hands in Suguru’s hair. Satoru eventually pushes at him with a whimper when he gets too sensitive so Suguru falls back on his heels, wipes spit off his chin as he swallows again.

“Did you swallow everything, fuck, what the fuck,” Satoru says, knocking Suguru practically backward as he half climbs half falls into Suguru’s lap. He leans into an open mouthed kiss that surprises Suguru, their tongues tangling like Satoru wants to taste himself in Suguru’s mouth.

Satoru gets his own shirt off and throws it aside almost without breaking the kiss. Suguru scrapes his fingers up Satrou’s bare sides. He’s so hard it hurts. He doesn’t really care though– it’s difficult to focus on himself with Satoru looking fucked out like this in his lap, kissing him like he’s been starving for it.

“What the fuck,” Satoru repeats, almost like it’s a complaint, as he presses their foreheads together, “you’re fucking good at that, forget friends with benefits– do you wanna get married? There are a lot of good benefits to it actually. I can get you company stock.”

Suguru snorts and Satoru laughs. He kisses Suguru again, this one slow and so tender it makes Suguru’s skin practically crawl with want. That’s a dangerous feeling, the way Satoru kisses. Suguru thinks he knew that from the start though– something about Satoru feels more addictive than cigarettes.

“Friends with benefits might be a better start than marriage.” Suguru rasps and feels Satoru’s grin against his mouth.

“Well, friends.” Satoru pokes his chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, benefits only included provided tonight goes well.”

“Oh, is it bad so far?” Suguru doesn’t know why he can’t stop smiling, laughing. He catches Satoru’s mouth for another kiss and pulls him a little closer, hands roaming, all this bare skin that he wants to touch. He hopes the friction of his pants isn’t too much. Satoru hasn’t pulled away yet though so he thinks it’s fine. “Is it bad so far?” He whispers as Satoru nips at his lips.

“We’ll have to see abo– oh fuck, I’m sensitive, Suguru, I just came, get your hand off– oh,” and then a breathless little arch against Suguru’s body that makes Suguru’s dick pulse, leak in his boxers, “do that again actually, never mind, don’t listen to me, like that.”

Suguru strokes him slow, lifts his other hand up to pinch and twist at Satoru’s nipple which earns him a muffled whimper. He eats up every sound and breath, Satoru’s hands cupping his face, Satoru’s open mouth pressed against his in gasping little kisses.

“Was it my turn?” Satoru breathes after a moment, batting Suguru’s hands away from him so that he can fumble with Suguru’s belt.

“Hmm?” Suguru hums, licking down Satoru’s neck, pressing in on a hickey he left. He runs his fingers lightly up and down Satoru’s bare back. He can’t stop touching him.

“Twenty-one questions.” Satoru explains. Suguru pulls back to stare at him. Satoru’s still panting but he grins that little shit-eating grin that Suguru has become way too comfortable with. “Are you a top or a bottom?”

“Equal opportunity.” Suguru manages, lifting at Satoru’s hips to get him to stand up. “I top more often though.” He kisses Satoru as Satoru finishes undoing Suguru’s belt, unzipping his pants so Suguru can step out of them. He walks backward toward the bed, one hand reaching for it, the other hand holding Satoru’s waist.

“Follow up question,” Satoru pushes him onto the bed. Suguru doesn’t know what to do about how turned on he is.

“No follow up questions.” Suguru pinches his arm a little as punishment. Satoru laughs, high and airy, as Suguru lifts up his hips so Satoru can get his boxers off.

“Then ask a question.” Satoru whispers as he crawls up Suguru’s body.

Suguru tries to speak but Satoru finally gets a hand on his dick and all that comes out is a groan as he arches into the touch.

“Looks painful.” Satoru whispers into his mouth. “You’re so hard, Suguru, why didn’t you touch yourself, fuck, you’re so hard, you’re so hot, I want you in me–”

Suguru bites whatever else Satoru is going to say out of his mouth with a kiss.

“Do you have a condom, lube? I have a condom in my wallet but I don’t have lube–” Suguru gets out, “that’s my question, ‘toru.”

“‘toru,” Satoru mumbles, working the head of Suguru’s cock, “I like that.”

“No lube, no fucking.” Suguru tells him and tries not to think about how sweet Satoru sounded saying that. Satoru rubs the head of his cock with his thumb and Suguru groans into their next kiss.

“Duh,” Satoru whispers, tugs at his lower lip with his teeth again, “and lucky for me and you I have some. Put some in my bag because I dared to hope, dude.”

“Your hand is on my dick, please stop calling me dude.” Suguru whines, kicking his hips up into the loose circle of Satoru’s fingers.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Satoru whispers. It makes Suguru huff out a laugh. “My turn, my question,” Satoru stops moving his hand. Suguru pants under him and tries to refocus on his face, “Mmm, you look good like this,” Satoru breathes, “okay, question, can you fuck me so hard the shareholders ask me if I’m okay in my meeting tomorrow?”

“Fucking hell.” Suguru says, has to close his eyes against a dizzying wave of arousal.

“Yes or no question.” Satoru says and then lets out a delighted laugh when Suguru flips them on the bed. It makes Suguru laugh too. Suguru’s never laughed this much during sex. He likes it so much it hurts.

“Yeah.” He bites at Satoru’s lips. “Yeah, I can do that.” He kisses Satoru first though, slowly, gets him to open his mouth up and melt back a little.

Satoru wriggles his face away after a second, leans up on his elbows.

“What are you waiting for, Suguru? Get the lube, get your fingers in me, hurry up.”

“You’re a brat.” Suguru tells him. Satoru just smirks happily.

Suguru enjoys watching the smirk fall off his face as he works Satoru open, Satoru’s hips propped up on a pillow. He goes slow, careful. He figures out quick that Satoru likes when he tugs and stretches at his rim while he’s got fingers inside him, that he likes it wet. It makes Suguru’s blood feel heated, watching Satoru twist under his hands, rock his hips down to try to get Suguru deeper. He pushes three fingers in deep, curls them, and Satoru arches off the bed. Suguru kisses his thigh, his hip. He goes back to scissoring two fingers in Satoru. He can’t stop watching the way the flush slides down Satoru’s chest, the beads of sweat caught at his temple, the jerk of his dick hard again and flushed dark pink.

“More,” Satoru groans, “fuck, come on—” Satoru pushes his own finger into his mouth to wet it then pushes it in next to Suguru’s as he rocks down.

“God,” Suguru mutters, watching Satoru’s rim stretch around their fingers. He feels close just from watching Satoru, from feeling him. He pulls Satoru’s finger out and eases three of his own in again as he guides Satoru’s hand up. “Touch yourself.” He tells Satoru, “Like that, ‘toru, yeah,” He kisses his thigh again. Satoru strokes himself, avoiding the head of his cock probably so he doesn’t come. Suguru presses his fingers up inside Satoru, the same spot as before, and Satoru’s body shakes, his hand flying away from his cock to grab at Suguru’s wrist hard, nails biting into Suguru’s skin.

“Now, please, fuck me, I can’t–”

Suguru grabs for the condom trying to calm himself as he puts it on. He holds the base of his dick as he rubs the head of his cock over Satoru’s hole, watches him clench.

“This what you want, ‘Toru? Fuck, look at you—”

He pushes into Satoru slowly, carefully. He has to go slow for his own sake too. He feels like he might come just from how overwhelmed he is watching his dick slide in, how tight and hot Satoru is around him.

Satoru trembles under him, mouthing soundless words. Suguru watches Satoru’s mouth form the syllables of his name and his hips jerk forward unconsciously. Satoru’s eyes fly open and he moans, tugs Suguru closer, inside him deeper.

“Fuck you’re tight,” Suguru manages when he bottoms out. He tugs at Satoru’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Shut up,” Satoru groans, hips twitching, “fuck, shut up, just move, Suguru–”

Suguru fucks Satoru missionary style as slow as he can for as long as he can. He wants to savor it. He wants Satoru desperate for it. It’s hard to hold back– Satoru’s responsive, vocal, meets his thrusts with little kicks of his hips. His hands trail through Suguru’s hair and tug at it, pulling him down into a searching kiss. Suguru moves slower, grinds deep, pulls out almost all the way so he can watch himself push back in as slow as possible. Satoru starts to whine, bats him with his hands, wriggles and hikes his leg up.

“Harder,” he demands, arching up into Suguru, locking his leg around Suguru’s hips, “faster, come on, fuck me like you mean it, Suguru–”

Suguru’s sucks another hickey into Satoru’s neck without answering. Then he pulls out nearly all the way again and fucks back in hard.

“Oh fuck,” Satoru chokes out, “oh god, fuck.”

Suguru agrees. He fucks Satoru hard, fast, how he asked, pushing into the tight slick heat of him. When he lifts Satoru’s leg a little more to try to get the angle right, Satoru hikes it higher, more flexible than Suguru expected. Suguru gets deeper that way, can’t hold back the groan at the feeling. He snaps his hips, and Satoru clenches around him, his words going all slurred, his eyes blurred with tears as his nails dig into Suguru’s skin.

“Like that?” Suguru pants, has to ask, “Right there, Satoru? You like it there, like that?”

Satoru sobs out an answer, hand moving on his cock fast and tight. Suguru has never wanted to make someone come as badly as he does at this moment.

“You feel so good, look so good, come for me,” he urges as he keeps fucking into him, “come for me, ‘toru, show me—”

“Keep– please—almost–oh god–” Satoru cries a little when he comes, eyes damp and mouth open, body locking up as his nails dig into Suguru’s back. It’s the hottest thing Suguru’s ever seen.

“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers, heated, unable to think. Satoru clenches around him and Suguru’s hips jerk. “Fuck.” He manages. “Fuck, you’re so tight, ‘toru, shit, do you want me to pull o–”

“Keep going,” Satoru pants into Suguru’s ear, “I like when it’s overwhelming, keep going, wanna feel you come—Suguru—fuck,”

It doesn’t take long for Suguru to come with Satoru saying his name like that. He comes harder than he has in recent memory, feels like it lasts forever. His dick pulses weakly in Satoru a final time as Satoru pulls his face down so their mouths can meet.

“Fuck,” he pants, returning Satoru’s little kisses. He waits until his heartbeat has slowed a little before he starts to pull out.

Satoru winces.

“Does it hurt?” Suguru asks softly, worried. He kisses Satoru’s forehead then his cheeks.

Satoru shakes his head no and sighs, shifting on the bed, hands tight on Suguru’s waist.

“Just like feeling– full,” he mumbles.

Suguru kisses him so he doesn’t say something like fuck you’re perfect or Jesus where have you been my whole life. He’s still half hard in Satoru. He grinds his hips down, the extra stimulation like a lit match to his skin.

“God, you feel good.” He whispers, kissing whatever skin he can reach. Satoru makes a pleased sound, head lolling to the side, hands lifting to tangle in Suguru’s hair. Suguru feels like he could easily get fully hard again if Satoru keeps looking at him all dreamy like that, making sounds like that. He pulls out slow and replaces his dick with his fingers, which earns a surprised little yelp of pleasure from Satoru, his hips rising up.

“Yeah, that’s good–” He mumbles as Suguru drags his fingers out and fucks them in shallowly a few times, tugs at Satoru’s rim. He circles it and rubs his perineum before pressing one finger back in. Satoru chokes out a low sound, biting his lower lip.

“So pretty.” Suguru tells him, kisses Satoru’s thigh as he removes his hand. “Let me grab a washcloth,” He starts to stand as he speaks and Satoru grabs at his wrist, pouts at him. Suguru feels his mouth quirk in a smile. He takes off the condom, ties and trashes it, and then grabs a tissue for now so he can wipe them off. He falls into Satoru’s arms so easily he surprises himself. He answers Satoru’s kisses as gently as he can. “We should shower.” He tells Satoru who makes a sound that is probably disagreement. Suguru relents, kisses Satoru’s neck and holds him.

He does get them out of bed after more than a little bit and into the bathroom. It’s really just to clean them off, they’re both sticky with dried come and lube, but Satoru starts kissing him open mouthed and wet, pressing their bodies together. Suguru doesn’t want to stop, especially not when he feels Satoru’s dick hard against his hip. Next thing he knows he’s got Satoru backed against the shower wall, jerking them both off while Satoru makes these little hitching panting sounds into his mouth.

“You’re so hot,” Suguru tells him, “so hot, ‘toru. Wanna fuck you forever.”

“You better.” Satoru gasps and tugs hard on Suguru’s hair. Suguru comes and doesn’t know if it was the words or the way Satoru looks or the feel of it all. Satoru comes too after him, weakly, body shaking.

“We were supposed to be showering.” Suguru admonishes him when he gets his breath back, as though he wasn’t equally responsible.

“Oops.” Satoru says without any remorse. He gives Suguru a cheeky grin, eyes hazy. Suguru laughs and Satoru just keeps smiling and Suguru kisses him, forgetting himself. Satoru sighs into it, kisses back lazily, fingers tight on Suguru’s shoulder.

After they’ve actually cleaned off, Satoru wanders out of the bathroom, pausing as he does to kiss the back of Suguru’s neck. Suguru, towel wrapped around his waist, watches Satoru walk away in the mirror. He wants to stop him. Kiss him. See if Satoru can get hard again, kiss him until he can, until both of them are hard, and then fuck him against the expensive bathroom counter. He also sort of wants to ask him how his day was and genuinely listen to the answer.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, turning the blow dryer on to drown out the sound of his own treacherously loud heartbeat.

When Suguru reenters the main room Satoru is wrapped up in a bathrobe on the bed, flipping through the room service menu. Suguru pauses. He should go, right? They fucked, that was the plan. Well, that had become the plan. He doesn’t know what his plan was at the start of all this, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s late. He has work tomorrow. He never spends the night with anyone he sleeps with so– he should go. He finds his boxers at the foot of the bed and exchanges his towel for them.

“What do you want to eat?” Satoru asks him, looking up, “Ew, are you getting dressed?”

“Ew?” Suguru says, at a loss, holding his pants in his hands.

“Are you leaving?” Satoru says. He suddenly looks completely different, a flash of it across his features, something like hurt in his eyes. Suguru watches his damp hair drip, a droplet of water trip over his collarbones.

“Don’t you, like— want me to leave?” Suguru stares at him.

Satoru stares back.

“What.” Satoru says flatly after a few seconds. “No? Come eat something and cuddle me, asshole. You made me come three times. I’m dizzy, I need cuddles.” Suguru starts to laugh because Satoru had stopped looking at him about halfway through, returning to the menu. “They have pasta, you want pasta?”

“I’m not a huge fan of western food.” Suguru puts his pants down and climbs onto the bed, lets Satoru fall against his side. He puts an arm around his shoulders as he peers at the menu too.

“A traditionalist.” Satoru nods. “Wagyu steak?”

“Sure.” Suguru kisses Satoru’s head. “Whatever you want, pasta included.” He freezes. “Oh, sorry–”

“Hm?” Satoru looks at him in confusion.

“Nothing.” Suguru says. Satoru pecks his cheek and climbs over him to get to the phone. Suguru figures he’s allowed so he leans in and starts kissing Satoru’s neck.

“You’re not allowed to fuck anyone else.” Satoru tells him bossily, hanging up and pushing him back on the bed. He climbs on top of Suguru, his robe falling open, hanging off his shoulder, exposing half his chest, his nipple. Suguru wants to lick it with the flat of his tongue, tug it with his teeth. “Only me.” Satoru says.

“Why would I want to fuck anyone else?” Suguru responds. He feels like he doesn’t want to fuck anyone else ever. It’s fucked up how good that was. He takes a breath and gets himself under control. “Friends with benefits, right? I don’t fuck around, okay? We’re exclusive until one of us wants to break it off.” Satoru stares at him without speaking, head tilted. “Right?” Suguru says after a moment, traces Satoru’s hipbone through the robe with his thumb.

“Yep.” Satoru says and leans down for a lingering kiss. “Hey, tell me trade secrets while we wait for the food. Insider information.”

Suguru rolls his eyes but, at Satoru’s insistence, they start to talk about work. It’s surprisingly nice. Satoru is smart and quick and a little bratty, even out of bed. The conversation flows easily. When the food comes, they sit by the window to eat. Suguru is having a nice time. Which is fine, obviously, but unexpected. Different. He’s had friends with benefits before but the sex wasn’t as good and he guesses they weren’t really friends, so maybe more of a convenient fuck buddy situation but still. This part is new. It’s new but Suguru can compartmentalize that. This.

By the time they finish eating, Satoru picking at every dish but in a way where Suguru can’t even tell how much he’s actually consuming, it’s late enough that Suguru needs to take a taxi home, his train stopped for the night.

“I’ll text you?” He asks, stretching and standing up to look for his clothes.

“Suguru,” Satoru whines, throwing arms around him from behind and hooking his chin on Suguru’s shoulder, “you haven’t even lived up to your promise. I’m still walking so normally right now. This is so disappointing– maybe you shouldn’t text me after all.”

Suguru feels his face twitch.

“You’re so–” He doesn’t know what word he wants

“Annoying?” Satoru taunts, letting go of him and walking backward to the bed, “Come on then Suguru, fuck it out of me.”

“Satoru.” Suguru says evenly. He should go.

“Oh?” Satoru raises an eyebrow. “Bit off more than you can chew with me, is that it? Shame.” He hums and looks at the ceiling. Suguru’s body sings with irritation and also, even though it’s illogical, arousal. “I’ll take care of myself, it’s fine, bye.” Satoru waves goodbye without looking at him. Suguru knows Satoru’s just trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows that. He knows it, but it’s still working. Fuck is it working.

Satoru’s head is tilted back and there’s the marks of Suguru’s mouth and his teeth all up and down his neck. Suguru wants his mouth on him, his body against his, again. He takes three quick steps, pins Satoru down on the bed.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Satoru twists his wrists a little with a laugh. He kicks his hips up against Suguru’s. “Hold me down, I like that, I’ll even say please,” he bats his eyelashes, “please, please fuck me, Suguru, I want your thick cock in–”

“Your fucking mouth.” Suguru hisses at him, tightens his grip. Satoru’s sentence cuts off with a little gasp. Suguru feels his dick twitch where it’s pressed against Suguru’s thigh.

“Next time you can fuck my mouth,” Satoru tells him in a rush, “shut me up good, I’ll be so good for you if you want that, suck you off so good, let you come down my throat, in my mouth, show you before I swall–”

“Jesus.” Suguru says, already half hard. He removes one of his hands to untie Satoru’s robe. He gets his hand on Satoru’s not fully hard dick, and watches his eyes flutter shut. He slides his hand lower, pressing against Satoru’s rim to check for soreness. He watches Satoru’s face for any sign of discomfort assuming he won’t verbalize it. Satoru’s mouth opens in a silent gasp and he whines, soft and low, blinking his eyes open to meet Suguru’s.

“Please.” He whispers.

“You got another condom?” Suguru bites Satoru’s neck. “Lube?”

“Uh-huh, my bag” Satoru says, “gonna make good on your promise, Suguru? Or are you gonna disappoint me?”

“Brat.” Suguru says and Satoru grins, wicked and promising.

Suguru gets off him to find the lube and the condom. He fingers him open slowly while Satoru tells him he’s good, he’s still stretched, he’s ready. Suguru doesn’t relent. Satoru gets brattier and brattier and then tips over some edge inside himself, just chasing the feeling and whispering please while he rocks down on Suguru’s hand. Suguru pulls Satoru into his lap and Satoru gives him a sloppy handjob while he fucks himself on Suguru’s fingers, gasping into his mouth.

“Please, please, please,” Satoru chants, eyes teary, “want your cock, Suguru, no more fingers– please–”

Suguru gives in almost immediately.

“I got you, here, I got you—” He feels feverish as he gets Satoru on his hands and knees. “God,” he mutters at the sight, “fuck.” He spreads Satoru, spits on his hole. Satoru falls onto his elbows and then to the pillows with a groan, arching his back and looking over his shoulder at Suguru from under his lashes.

“Fuck— Suguru, come on—”

Suguru still makes sure to push into him slowly.

“You okay?” He checks, as he bottoms out. At Satoru’s little nod, he starts to move, gentle rocks of his hips. “Good?” He asks again, dizzy with arousal, the desire to move faster, fuck into Satoru’s heat. He kisses the nape of Satoru’s neck.

Satoru almost growls, pushes his hips back against Suguru’s.

“Move.” He pleads.

Suguru fucks Satoru hard until he comes, body locking in pleasure and then collapsing in shivers. Suguru barely stops, rolls him over without fully pulling out so he can see Satoru’s face, all fucked out, blissed out, tears on his cheeks.

“So good, you’re taking me so good, feel so good—” Suguru tells him and starts fucking him again. Satoru clutches at the sheets by his head, presses a hand against the headboard to hold his body steady, and stays hard in a way that looks painful. Suguru slows to make sure he’s okay, grinds deep in him.

“Don’t stop, Suguru, please.” Satoru groans, reaching for him.

“Okay, yeah, fuck—” Suguru thrusts hard and then harder, tries to get deeper, chasing his own orgasm, hand tight on Satoru’s hips, pulling him down onto his dick.

“Like that, like that,” Satoru manages, his voice wrecked.

Suguru can barely breathe. Satoru’s tight and hot and it’s overwhelming and perfect.

“God, I’m gonna come—” Suguru tells him, hammers into him, and Satoru sobs.

Satoru’s last orgasm is dry, his nails digging scrapes into Suguru’s back and Suguru comes too, overwhelmed, vision blurring.

When Suguru finally pulls out, Satoru is half-asleep, mumbling about how hot Suguru is, how hot that was. Suguru makes him drink some water, combs through his hair softly while Satoru smiles at him, fucked out and pliant. Suguru leaves to get a warm washcloth, untangling Satoru’s fingers from his with soft words and softer kisses. He cleans Satoru up, wipes the tears from overstimulation off his face with a gentle hand. Satoru nuzzles into it, half-asleep. Suguru tosses the washcloth into the bathroom sink and walks back toward the bed, toward Satoru, without thinking. It feels wrong to go, to leave Satoru there exhausted, looking strangely small in the hotel bed– but it’s not just that. He doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay. He really wants to stay. He feels strung out for some reason, wants to curl into Satoru’s warmth, his brightness. He probably should go, but he doesn’t want to. He trails his hand across Satoru’s face, brushes his hair back.

“S’guru,” Satoru’s eyes are only half open as he shifts. He reaches a hand out and his fingers lock lazily with Suguru’s, “stay?” He mumbles.

Suguru stays.

He crawls in next to Satoru who turns to him with a sigh. Satoru wraps an arm around Suguru and plants a barely there kiss to his ear. It makes Suguru’s heart feel funny. He closes his eyes.

He’ll think about it tomorrow.

He falls asleep on Satoru’s warm solid chest.

The next morning, for the first time ever, he’s late to work.

[satoru]
when are you off work
u wanna fuck

[suguru]
hello satoru

[satoru]
ugh hello suguru
how are you

[suguru]
very well thank you
how are you

[satoru]
sooooo good

[suguru]
i work late tonight, we have a project due
we just fucked two days ago

[satoru]
okay and?????
yeah TWO DAYS
come over to mine after
<pin sent>
just take the elevator outside the west exit, it’s private
floor fifteen

[suguru]
you would have a private fucking elevator

[satoru]
sugar baby offer still open

[suguru]
i’ll let you know

[satoru]
oooooh
depending what ur into we could get you a collar
or like a cartier bracelet that only i could take off
the little screwdriver one
like for added kinkiness

[suguru]
ill let you know about tonight, satoru
about tonight

[satoru]
okay well if u wanna get me the bracelet i think it’s cute
just fyi

[suguru]
it costs more than a million yen
literally

[satoru]
why’d u look it up tho

[suguru]
i will talk to you later, satoru

[satoru]
k bye daddy

Suguru gets off work late enough that he has to take a taxi home. He needs to be back in the office in seven hours by the time he makes it to his door. He barely slept for most of this week and every part of him feels exhausted. He makes himself choke down some food before he gets in the shower. He dries his hair, stares at himself in the mirror for a little too long, and then collapses on his bed. He feels exhausted but can tell sleep will elude him.

His phone buzzes on the bed beside him.

[satoru]
su
gu
ru

[suguru]
im sorry
i can’t tonight
should have told you earlier

His phone rings after he texts. He stares as Satoru’s name flashes on the screen. He stares long enough that the ringing stops. Satoru texts again.

[satoru]
rudeass

Suguru calls him back.

There you are. Satoru says, sounding sleepy and somehow sweet. Rough day, huh? I could have made you feel better.

For some reason, Satoru’s voice is already making him feel better.

“Cocky.” Suguru says.

For good reason, Satoru practically sing-songs.

“For good reason.” Suguru acknowledges. Satoru hums, pleased. “I just got home,” Suguru explains, “I have to go in early tomorrow. Barely got any sleep last night and the night before I think you know I barely slept.”

Satoru makes a sound of pride and then one of discontent.

Is your company shit like that? Old-school and traditional and all?

Suguru laughs. “You think I’d get away with my hair and piercings in a traditional company?”

Satoru snorts, no actually, so what the fuck?

“Big project. Shouldn’t have to work late tomorrow, not this late at least.”

Satoru hums his acknowledgement softly. The line goes quiet for a few moments. Suguru should tell him that he needs to sleep and hang up.

“How was your day?” Suguru asks, surprising himself. He rolls over on his bed as far as his plugged in phone will allow.

Kinda shit, Satoru says, part of why I wanted to fuck around.

“What happened?” Suguru asks.

What happened to you? Satoru retorts.

“Skip.” Suguru says.

Satoru’s laugh feels like little icicles, pricking Suguru’s skin in a good way. Maybe he should have gone over. He thinks of the way Satoru looked underneath him. He feels his overtired body stirring with interest. He clears his throat.

“Well?” He says, after a moment.

Okay, fine, Satoru says, and launches into a long story that Suguru mostly understands even though it’s not his area of expertise. Something about ad copy and a former employee who broke an NDA and now Satoru’s team is trying to pick up the pieces. The other company is doubling down that certain things were not proprietary or intellectual property and the NDA wasn’t broken. Satoru has to comb through documents and emails. He got called in by company lawyers to prep in case they have to go to court. Suguru listens and listens and listens. He finds his muscles relaxing incrementally as Satoru talks.

Your turn. Satoru finishes.

“It’s been a long day.” Suguru decides on.

Wow, information overload. Satoru snips. Don’t hold back, man.

Suguru hates that it makes him laugh.

“Fine.” He says. He tells Satoru about the department chief who is a traditionalist and doesn’t like Suguru. How they can’t promote people around said department chief, even when they should, because he’s been there too long. It’s stupid office politics that drive Suguru insane. He tells Satoru that the project ran so late because of a mistake in the dataset and they had to rerun the expected financial outcomes. It was someone on the department chief’s team and he had tried to blame Suguru’s junior and it turned into a whole thing. He tells Satoru he is going to have to take people out next week to smooth this all over because that’s what he’s good at and it’s good that he’s good at it, but he’s tired. He’s so tired.

That’s shit. Satoru says succinctly. I know you think I’m just a nepo-baby, but I get the office politics. My dad wants to promote me all the way up but I don’t want that, I want to keep doing advertising. I like it. People are simultaneously mad it’s an option for me and mad that I’m not taking it. Plus some of them hate me because I skipped a few steps you know, never had to be an office grunt but–

“I don’t think you’re just a nepo-baby.” Suguru says. There’s a disbelieving silence. “Okay, sure, a little bit.” He acquiesces and Satoru snorts. “But you’re smart, Satoru. I can tell that easy. Maybe you don’t follow typical Japanese social standards but you’re interesting. You make me think.”

Satoru is silent for a few moments and then he says well thank you. It doesn’t sound snippy, it sounds genuine. Surprised. Like he doesn’t hear it a lot or doesn’t often have people mean it when they compliment him. You barely even know me though, he adds, but it doesn’t have quite the bite Suguru expects.

“Mmm.” Suguru mumbles, feeling slightly embarrassed. He stares at his bookshelf and his copy of Howl’s Moving Castle stares back accusingly.

Glad I saved your life all those years ago, Satoru adds, sounding a bit more like himself, love getting complimented, honestly. Tell me more about how great I am.

“You’re very good in bed.” Suguru says.

Thank you, thank you.

“I saved that post-it note you left.” Suguru tells him without thinking. He immediately feels his face flush.

Satoru pauses for so long Suguru checks to make sure the call didn’t drop.

You did? Satoru says finally.

“Yeah, I– well.” Suguru doesn’t have a good follow-up. He winces at himself.

I thought about you a lot. Satoru says quietly. I googled you, but you don’t have much of a social media presence.

“Why did you think about me?” Suguru mumbles. His eyes are closing against his will. He wants to stay awake. “What did you think about?”

You’re falling asleep, Satoru says like it’s accusatory but it sounds more like he thinks it’s funny. Here, I’ll keep talking, you just go to sleep, darling.

Suguru, for some reason, does. He falls asleep listening to Satoru describe the university campus where he got his MBA. The last thing he remembers is Satoru saying, you still awake? and then, so so softly, goodnight, Suguru.

It’s almost 8:00 when Suguru leaves work the next day. He’s running on the kind of sleep he used to run on back in his first year at the company, back in university. But it’s Friday and he doesn’t have work tomorrow, which is enough to release some of the tension in his shoulders. He could go home, maybe should, but he wants to see Satoru. He wants to fuck him but also– he wants to see him. He doesn’t analyze it, just texts Satoru a question mark. Satoru texts back a series of emojis that Suguru can’t decipher although he can gather their meaning well enough. He sends back an ETA and see you soon.

Satoru is showered and wearing only sweats when Suguru arrives. His face cracks into a huge grin when he sees Suguru. It shouldn’t warm Suguru’s heart the way it does.

“Shower?” Satoru offers, points him toward the en-suite, and flops down on his bed.

Suguru walks back into Satoru’s bedroom with his hair still damp because he wants to kiss Satoru and can’t be bothered to take the time to fully dry it. Satoru smiles at him from where he’s lounging. Suguru grabs Satoru’s ankle and pulls him down to the bottom of the bed. He eats up Satoru’s little laugh, kisses him like he’s water and Suguru wants to drown.

“On your back.” Satoru whispers into his mouth as they kiss, untying the towel around Suguru’s waist.

“Oh?” Suguru climbs on the bed and gets on his back. He settles his hands on Satoru’s hips after Satoru kicks off his sweats and straddles him. “You’re in control tonight, hmm?”

“Yeah, got a problem?” Satoru grabs Suguru’s wrists, pins them above his head.

“No.” Suguru says easily, intrigued. Satoru kisses him and kisses him and then nips him so hard Suguru makes a sound of protest.

“Don’t touch.” Satoru whispers, removing his hands from where he’d pinned Suguru’s wrists, “You left me hanging yesterday. I got all worked up waiting for you and you never came.”

“I had work.” Suguru protests, his words cut off when Satoru kisses him again.

Satoru tugs at Suguru’s lip with his teeth, kisses down his neck, pinches one of his nipples. He hums in satisfaction when Suguru shivers. When he sits back Suguru starts to move his hands down to hold him without thinking about it. Satoru glares, puts Suguru’s hands back where they were.

“I said don’t touch. Besides, forget last night, you ignored me for two years,” Satoru skims hands over his own chest, pinches his nipples, looks down at Suguru. “Look at what you missed out on, hm?”

Suguru doesn’t really have an answer for that.

“I know what I missed out on,” he tries, reaching a hand out for Satoru.

“Don’t touch me.” Satoru says again. Suguru puts his hand back on the pillow.

Satoru leans up above Suguru to the built in bookcase of the bed frame. He’s holding a bottle of lube when he pulls back. He settles on his knees, one on each side of Suguru’s hips, and drips some lube on his fingers. Suguru watches as Satoru glides his hand over his dick, strokes it a few times, and then reaches behind himself, legs going a little wider. Suguru can’t see but Satoru’s mouth drops open as he inhales sharply and Suguru knows he’s fingering himself.

Suguru’s hands twitch by his head.

It’s hot. The sound, the sight. Suguru wants to see properly. Satoru makes a hitched sound and puts his hand on Suguru’s chest, leans forward, eyes fluttering closed. Watching Satoru work himself open like this, right above Suguru when Suguru’s not supposed to touch him, is torture. He flexes his fingers. He wants to touch. He touches Satoru’s knee. Satoru pauses and looks at Suguru’s hand very pointedly until he removes it. Satoru starts to work himself again, head falling forward as a moan spills out of his mouth.

“Need more,” Satoru groans, “fuck.”

Suguru’s dick jerks where it’s hard against his stomach. He takes a quick deep breath as Satoru winces a little at whatever he does. The movement of his arm stutters. Maybe he’s going too fast, too many fingers too quick. Satoru’s not patient— Suguru knows this even though they’ve only spent one night together. Suguru wants to touch, to soothe, to help.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Suguru breathes. He goes to stroke Satoru’s thighs and stops, hands hovering when Satoru glares at him. “You going too fast?” He asks, relenting and returning his hands to the pillows.

“I can take it,” Satoru says and must start moving his fingers again or crook them just right because he falls forward toward Suguru, hand landing on the headboard, knocking against something as he gasps. His dick grazes Suguru’s and they both moan at the contact. “I can’t get deep enough, the angle’s wrong,” Satoru pants, “fuck, I wish it were your fingers, Suguru.” He says this like it can’t be Suguru’s fingers. It can be. Suguru lifts a hand. “Don’t touch.” Satoru manages to snap.

“Satoru.” Suguru whispers. He shifts against the bed. His dick is leaking onto his stomach, a string of precome connecting the head to his skin. “Let me.” Suguru practically pleads. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“No.” Satoru says and then grins. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you fuck me though.” He practically purrs that, eyes locked on Suguru.

Suguru curses. His dick jerks again.

Satoru smirks at him and then gasps, body twitching. Suguru can’t see and can’t touch without Satoru whining out listen to me. He wants to listen. It’s just that he can see how hard Satoru is, the precome beading at the head of his cock, the way he’s lost in the sensation of fingering himself. He falls forward onto Suguru’s chest with a little whimpered sound and the arch of his back when he presses his face into Suguru’s neck makes Suguru feel feral. He wants to make Satoru feel good. He wants to so bad it feels like physical pain.

“You’re so hard,” Satoru mumbles as he sits up, hand on Suguru’s chest to steady himself. He pulls his hand out of his own body and runs his lube covered fingers over Suguru’s cock. The touch feels electric. Suguru full body jerks, tries not to moan. His hands lift up and he stops them, puts them back on the pillow. “Good boy, you’re a good listener.” Satoru’s eyes are unfocused but somehow intent. He has them fixed on Suguru’s face. “Should have known you’d be good at listening.” He mumbles, reaching behind himself again.

“When can I touch you?” Suguru’s voice is rough even to his own ears.

Satoru chokes out a laugh. He fixes Suguru with bright mischievous eyes.

“Maybe if you beg.” He makes a breathy sound at whatever he does with his fingers. It’s driving Suguru crazy. “You gonna beg?” Satoru asks, leaning forward a little more, hand sliding off Suguru’s chest and up onto the pillow by Suguru’s hands. “Beg for me.”

Suguru doesn’t even hesitate. If he knew that’s all it was he would have done it from the start.

“Please.” He rasps instantly and knows he sounds desperate because he feels desperate. He feels strung out with want. He lifts his hands but doesn’t touch. “‘toru, please. Please let me touch you. Please let me.”

Satoru slows then stills, watching him.

“Please.” Suguru begs. His hands flex in the air near Satoru. He watches Satoru glance at them. “I want to so bad, I’ll make you feel good, let me make you feel good, let me be good for you–” Satoru tilts his head as Suguru keeps talking, the words spilling out of him. “Just tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it, I will.” Suguru adds desperately. Satoru’s eyes are flicking over his features. Suguru borrows a page from Satoru’s book, the English term of endearment clumsy on his tongue. “Baby,” he whispers, “please.”

Satoru crests forward like a wave, all this glorious skin under Suguru’s hands as he grabs at him, opens his mouth to the messy kiss. Suguru grabs at the nape of Satoru’s neck, then his hip, his waist. He strokes Satoru’s dick and Satoru keens softly. Suguru’s overwhelmed by possibilities, so many options of where to touch.

Satoru pulls back a little to look at Suguru and laughs, open and bright, confused.

“I say don’t and you don’t, I say beg and you do.” He whispers. “What’s up with you, Geto Suguru.”

Suguru can’t answer that question.

“Let me take care of you.” He says instead of answering. “C’mere.” He tugs at Satoru’s hips until he knee-walks up Suguru’s body and Suguru can get his mouth on him and his fingers in him. He works him open even though he’s probably ready, feels the tight hot clench of him. Suguru has a better angle than Satoru did, finds what he’s looking for with crooked fingers. It hurts his wrist a little but the desperate sound Satoru lets out makes it worth it.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Satoru lifts up and off Suguru’s fingers. “I want to ride you, let me ride you.”

“Fuck.” Suguru manages as Satoru grabs the condoms from the bedside table and tosses him one. He’s so turned on he’s shaking and it takes him a minute before he can pinch the tip, get it on. He strokes himself once, twice.

“No touching.” Satoru grins at him, pushing Suguru back on the bed so that he can climb on top of him.

“Not doing that again tonight.” Suguru grabs for the discarded lube and slicks himself up a bit, wipes his hands on the sheets before he grabs the back of Satoru’s neck and pulls him down into a punishing kiss. Aside from that he lets Satoru do what he wants.

“You liked it.” Satoru says. Suguru almost says I like you but catches himself at the last second.

“Yeah.” He agrees and then groans, a choked out noise as Satoru lowers himself onto Suguru’s cock. He goes faster and less careful then Suguru would have pushed into him. Satoru’s hand is on his jaw so Suguru bites at his fingers and holds him steady by the hips. Satoru whimpers softly, grinding down while he adjusts, his head tilted backwards. When he starts to move Suguru can’t help the stuttered way Satoru’s name falls from his lips.

Satoru keeps up a pace for a bit, his fingers in Suguru’s mouth, his other hand on Suguru’s chest for balance. He alternates between these shallow rocks of his hips and lifting almost off, rides him so good Suguru feels dizzy with it.

“You feel so fucking good,” Suguru manages and slides his hands up Satoru’s stomach, over his thighs as they work. He sucks on Satoru’s fingers and bites them when Suguru’s hand gets near his mouth, spit on his chin, his cheeks. He holds Satoru’s hips, helps him move, lets go and jerks him off, Satoru’s cock dripping onto Suguru’s stomach. Satoru moans and flops down on Suguru, their chests pressed together, grinding down on him with breathless sounds. Suguru kicks his hips up into him, holds him steady.

“Yeah, please, fuck–” Satoru bites at his neck, his shoulder.

“So hot, you’re so hot. Let me fuck you, okay?” Suguru whispers. Satoru nods, tight in the crook of Suguru’s neck.

Suguru rolls them so Satoru is on his back and hikes one of Satoru’s legs up into the crook of his elbow as he kisses him. He likes the sound Satoru makes into his mouth when he pushes back in. His hair falls around their faces as he starts to thrust and Satoru gasps, gathering it in his hands.

“I like your hair,” he mumbles into the next kiss, tugs at it, “wanna pull it, want to put it in a ponytail and fuck you from behind, want to– oh, right there, right there, fuck, Suguru–”

Suguru is going to come, he realizes. It’s faster than he wants to, but he’s going to come.

“Satoru, m’close,” he gets out, sitting back so he can get both of Satoru’s legs hooked over his arms, holds him tight by the hips as he slams into him, his nails digging into Satoru’s skin

“Me too, me too,” Satoru chants, “keep fucking me, so good, it feels so good, no one else— oh god— ”

Suguru’s not sure which of them comes first, but his orgasm is hard, Satoru clenching around him. He falls forward as Satoru wraps his legs around Suguru’s hips, locks his ankles behind him, and pulls him close, kisses him. Compared to the way they were fucking the kiss is slow. Tender. Suguru never wants it to stop. Even after Suguru finally pulls back so he can pull out and toss the condom, Satoru tugs him right back, barely letting their mouths part.

They kiss for so long, Satoru alternating between messy dirty kisses and these soft chaste things, that Suguru gets hard again. He’s going to ignore it, until Satoru grabs one of Suguru’s hands, guides it between his legs to Satoru’s hard dick. He arches into Suguru with a strangely breathless sound that makes Suguru want to do anything Satoru tells him to do forever.

“What do you want, what do you want?” Suguru asks, pressing kisses down Satoru’s neck. “Tell me, I’ll give it to you.”

“Get another condom,” Satoru’s nails dig into his back, “fuck me again, Suguru.”

Suguru doesn’t even think, just lets himself drown in the crystal blue of Satoru’s eyes.

He goes slower this time, gets deep in him, grinds his hips, presses on Satoru’s stomach, the base of his dick, his taint, his rim where they’re connected. He gets Satoru gasping and talking about how good he feels, how good Suguru fucks him. It turns Suguru on more than he cares to admit, Satoru’s heated whispers. He makes Satoru come first, hand tight on the head of his cock, and follows almost immediately, overwrought with how pretty Satoru looks fucked out, covered in his own come, eyes glazed and dreamy.

Everything catches up to Suguru after he comes. He manages to tie and toss the condom, grab some tissues, and clean Satoru off at least a little before he collapses.

“Fuck.” He mumbles falling half on Satoru, half on the bed. He presses his face into Satoru’s neck, closes his eyes. Satoru laughs lightly above him.

“Come on big baby,” Satoru kisses the top of his head, “it’s bedtime.”

Suguru nods into Satoru’s shoulder. He knows he needs to go home– there’s a difference between spending the night together at a hotel and spending one at Satoru’s apartment. Even he knows that, despite the fact his logic seems to turn off around Satoru. He knows he needs to go; he’s just so fucking tired.

“Just a second,” he breathes into Satoru’s skin, presses a dragging half-kiss, “fuck, I haven’t been sleeping this whole week. I’m so tired. Just give me a second and I’ll get up and I can go, okay?”

Satoru wriggles under him, adjusting himself, and doesn’t say a word. The sheets smell like Satoru, amaretto and citrus. Suguru takes a deep breath. Satoru draws a lazy line up his spine with one finger and hums softly. It’s soothing. Suguru doesn’t mean to fall asleep but he does. He wakes to Satoru combing through his hair gently.

“All tangled.” Satoru says, when Suguru lifts his head up blearily. “Let’s shower in the morning, okay?”

Suguru forgets that he’s not supposed to stay. He’s tired and the sheets smell like Satoru and Satoru has his face cupped in one hand, is tucking his hair back gently behind his ear. It’s a sort of comfort that Suguru has never had before. It’s dangerous. It’s worse than cigarettes. It’s addicting, filling up something inside him, a warm pooling feeling in his gut. He doesn’t know how to live with this or how he’ll live without this when it’s gone.

He nods at Satoru and lets himself be tugged under the covers, pulled to Satoru’s chest. He falls asleep again quickly, feeling safe.

Suguru wakes with a start the next morning to an empty bed. Sunlight is streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. His phone is plugged in next to him. He doesn’t remember doing that. He grabs it to check the time. 10am. He never sleeps past 8, not even on the weekends– usually he would be at the gym by now. He takes a breath, scans the room. Should he go? He doesn’t know where Satoru is. Maybe he should go. He rubs a hand over his face and tries to think. He doesn’t know the protocol for this.

He’s about a second away from getting up and getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes when Satoru walks back in the room. He’s sipping a mug of coffee, carrying another one. He’s wearing low-slung sweatpants and his chest is bare. His hair and skin are damp like he just showered and Suguru watches the way his muscles move under his skin and thinks he is so beautiful.

“Stop ogling me.” Satoru says, handing him one of the mugs. “Drink this, go shower, do you like french toast?”

“No?” Suguru says after a second, trying to process. He takes a sip of the coffee.

“You’re gonna hate where I just made reservations then.” Satoru says with a cackle. “I’ll grab you some clothes to borrow. I refuse to brunch with a man in a dirty suit.”

Suguru doesn’t really know what to say to that.

He sips the coffee Satoru made him, swipes through notifications on his phone, tells Yuki he will see her and Choso tomorrow. He debates asking if it’s normal to spend the night at your friend with benefits apartment and then go out for brunch together. He thinks he knows what the answer is though so he doesn’t ask.

He goes to take a shower as Satoru puts on some sort of hyper femme pop and collapses on the bed, singing loudly at the ceiling.

It’s strangely enjoyable watching Satoru eat french toast covered in syrup at a corner table in a tiny restaurant in the nearest department store. Satoru wrinkles his nose at the savory breakfast Suguru gets and feeds him a bite of his french toast. The conversation is comfortable. It’s all comfortable. Even Satoru’s clothes are comfortable on Suguru, just sweats and a t-shirt, but they fit relatively well given their similar stature.

When they leave the restaurant Suguru heads home so he can change and go to the gym before the day fully escapes him. He thinks the day would escape him if he stays with Satoru much longer. Satoru has a funny way of doing that. Suguru doesn’t even mind it. He promises to wash the clothes and return them when he sees Satoru next. Satoru salutes in goodbye.

Suguru ends up sleeping in the clothes before he washes them, amaretto and citrus in all his senses, but no one has to know that aside from him.

They meet up more than a few times during the next few weeks.

Satoru matches Suguru’s energy in bed and keeps him on his toes and, fuck, the way he never stops talking really gets to Suguru. More than he thought it would. He knew that he liked vocal partners but Satoru’s teasing voice is haunting him– the way he whispers in Suguru’s ear, the way he comes undone and can’t finish sentences, the sounds he makes as he comes, Suguru’s name all wrecked on his tongue. Everything about the sex is amazing. Suguru knows Satoru thinks so too because Satoru’s not shy. Suguru had to turn off the preview on his notifications after his phone buzzed during a work meeting with a gratuitously sexual text. Suguru was more into that than he cared to admit.

So that all makes sense. What surprises Suguru is the friendship part. It genuinely takes him by surprise that they become actual friends easily and quickly. Since their french toast brunch Satoru has taken to sending Suguru random texts throughout the day— pictures of things he sees or things he wants to buy, random shots of him and his friends. Suguru thinks maybe it should seem intrusive or overbearing or something but it doesn’t. It’s not. The guys he messed around with before and him sometimes tried to chat when they weren’t planning to meet up but it was always vaguely lackluster. The conversations had died quickly. It’s weird to be able to text Satoru and get a response, to want to get a response. When he sees Satoru’s name pop up on his phone he finds himself smiling. He always wants to see what Satoru has sent, even if it’s an inopportune time. He always sends something back. He finds himself reaching out more than he probably should, honestly.

His mom texts him again about the omiai and he turns her down more quickly than usual. She ends up calling him and they have a not pleasant conversation. He goes to the gym to try to work off the energy– lifts and then runs and it doesn’t work. He still feels frustrated and sort of like his skin is itchy.

He messages Satoru, then sends a selfie of himself sweaty and without his shirt. Satoru sends back a string of incomprehensible emojis that make Suguru laugh. Satoru asks for another selfie. Suguru obliges and then Satoru asks for a dick pic. Suguru says im in public, you animal. Satoru sends him the contact info for a man Suguru can only assume is the Gojo family lawyer. A google search confirms this. Suguru rolls his eyes but his chest feels a little less constricted. He ends up calling Satoru that night, wanting to hear his voice. They talk for a while about everything and nothing. It’s nice. They make plans to meet up the next night.

Suguru doesn’t analyze it too much, not any of it. He always overanalyzes things to no avail, so he tells himself it’s not worth it. He tells himself to just enjoy this while he can, before Satoru gets bored of him or Suguru’s feelings get too big and he has to stop before he ruins everything.

He goes to Satoru’s the next night and finger fucks him while Satoru babbles about how he’s never come untouched, does Suguru think he can make Satoru come untouched, Satoru wants him to try, Satoru thinks Suguru could but– not right now touch me please, please Suguru, I need you to. Suguru does. Satoru comes so pretty and hard, Suguru’s name on his lips, that it makes Suguru’s head spin.

Satoru sucks him off and Suguru thinks the way Satoru looks on his knees, mouth open, the head of Suguru’s dick on the flat of his stuck-out tongue, face covered and mouth full of come, is going to haunt Suguru until he’s on his deathbed and then maybe beyond. Satoru pushes some come dripping off his chin into his mouth and whispers what a waste without dropping Suguru’s eyes. Suguru’s whole body pulses, starting from his dick. He feels consumed and it feels good. He grabs Satoru and kisses him hard, tastes himself in Satoru’s mouth. He fucks Satoru against the wall in the shower later that night, Satoru’s leg hooked over his arm. Satoru pants into his mouth that Suguru fucks him so good, he feels so good, he likes it so much, no one’s ever fucked him this good, right there Suguru, oh fuck, never stop. They kiss while they both come down from the high and then for so long after that Satoru starts to shiver. Suguru wraps them up in blankets and tumbles them into bed, kissing Satoru’s nose, his cheeks.

He falls asleep in Satoru’s bed again, Satoru’s arms around his waist.

[satoru]
we fucked on my birthday u know

[suguru]
what

[satoru]
mmhmmmmm

[suguru]
satoru.
what.
happy birthday
what the fuck
i didn’t fucking know that

[satoru]
lol

[suguru]
when?

[satoru]
like two days ago
december 7th
u came on my face and fucked me in the shower
it was great

[suguru]
satoru
what the fuck

[satoru]
like it truly was a happy birthday for me tbh
ur dick is sooooo good
i guess u could havegotten me a card or something tho

[suguru]
i didn’t know it was your fucking birthday

[satoru]
yeah shoko said i should tell u
since i didnt tell u on my actual birthday
and she said that u were gonna feel bad

[suguru]
why didn’t you tell me

[satoru]
what, when u were three fingers deep in me?
oh by the way i came out the womb today?

[suguru]
i’ll make it up to you?

[satoru]
literally the way u look at me when im covered in ur cum is a gift

[suguru]
you have a filthy mouth

[satoru]
thanks
u like it
get a maid outfit
that would make it up to me

[suguru]
you want to fuck me while im wearing a maid outift?

[satoru]
no i want u to fuck me while ur wearing a maid outfit
punish ur master
im so bad
made a mess in the library or w/e

[suguru]
you need to work on your scene setting
happy late birthday satoru

[satoru]
so is that a no on the maid thing

Suguru doesn’t show up in a maid outfit when they next meet, but he does bring Satoru a box of excessively expensive chocolates.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was your birthday.” He says.

“How the fuck could you realize it was my birthday?” Satoru says as he gives Suguru a look that’s somewhere between horrified, offended, and fond. He accepts the chocolates, kisses Suguru lightly. “I didn’t tell you, dingus.”

Suguru shrugs and gently pushes Satoru back a few steps into his apartment. He drops to his knees, reaches for Satoru’s belt.

“Birthday present?” He offers.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Satoru says, placing the box of chocolates carefully on the counter. His hands free, he combs through Suguru’s hair, taking out his bun.

Suguru gets Satoru’s dick out and strokes it, kisses and suckles, until Satoru’s fully hard. Then he relaxes his throat and jaw and sticks out his tongue a little. He watches Satoru’s pupils dilate as he looks down at him.

“Yeah?” He asks softly, brushes at Suguru’s hair.

Suguru nods. Satoru starts shallow, slow, before Suguru makes a disgruntled sound and pushes himself onto Satoru’s cock, sinks down until it goes down his throat enough that he almost gags, tears stinging his eyes. He holds himself there and swallows.

“Oh fuck,” Satoru says, hands tugging sharp at Suguru’s hair.

Suguru likes when Satoru lets go, starts fucking his throat properly. It turns him on just as much as it does Satoru. He loves the feel of it. He loves that Satoru does this thing he does where his hands get tangled in Suguru’s hair and he tries to finger comb the knots out of it without stopping what they’re doing. Satoru has his dick down Suguru’s throat and he’s still using a shaking hand to try to brush Suguru’s hair back from his face, tuck it behind his ear. Suguru’s stomach tingles pleasantly at the tenderness in the gesture.

“Fuck,” Suguru chokes out when he pulls off. He jerks Satoru off with a tight hand, “come down my throat okay, come in my mouth—”

Satoru comes hard after Suguru takes him down again, legs shaking, and falls into Suguru’s arms afterwards, nuzzling at his neck. Suguru feels strangely possessive about the taste of Satoru in his mouth.

When Satoru gets his breath back he starts to talk and Suguru feels vaguely unstable about the steady stream of words coming out of Satoru’s mouth.

“Go get the lube, work me open, god, fuck, I keep thinking about you, your cock, please, I need it—” Satoru leans over on his kitchen counter and stands up on his tiptoes, legs spread wide, shirt hiked halfway up his back. “I need you to fuck me now, here, want it here, need you inside me—” He strokes his rim dry and then sucks on his finger and pushes the tip inside himself. Suguru stumbles in his haste to get the lube and condoms.

Satoru has his finger in up to the second knuckle by the time Suguru gets back. The sounds he’s making are so dirty Suguru can’t think straight. He strips off his shirt and gets rid of his belt, his pants. Satoru gasps when Suguru drips lube on his hole, kisses the small of his back.

“Suguru,” Satoru breathes, clenching a fist by his mouth, his sleeve pulled over his knuckles as he bites at them. “Want it, want you inside me right here so that I think about it— you— your thick cock fucking me every time I eat, so that I start to get hard when I’m in my kitchen because all I can think about is your dick inside me—”

“Jesus,” Suguru gets out, works his shaking fingers inside Satoru as Satoru keeps talking, “fuck—”

“We’re going t— ah— fuck in your kitchen too Suguru— fuck, I’ll be so good for you that you won’t even be able to make a coffee without thinking of me, how I look when you fuck me, when you’re inside me, when you’re making me come—”

Suguru has never invited someone back to his place, but the way Satoru says it he believes him. Suguru thinks about how Satoru looks coming undone underneath him, pink and flushed and panting, tears in his blissed out eyes. He thinks about Satoru in his apartment looking like that, spread open for him. He imagines Satoru in his bed, on the floor, in his genkan pressed against the apartment door, in his kitchen. He looks at Satoru, wet sleeve in his mouth, eyes teary, taking Suguru’s fingers like he was made for it.

“Fuck.” Suguru hisses. “You like it, Satoru? Like how I fuck you?” He pulls his fingers out, kisses Satoru’s hole, licks it, and Satoru makes a wrenched sobbing sound. Suguru’s so hard, aching, that just the stimulation from putting the condom on makes him groan.

“Put it in me, come on, come on, I need you–” Satoru gasps, wriggling in his grip.

Suguru dick pulses in his hand as he teases, rubs the head over Satoru’s rim. Satoru pushes his hips back, looking at Suguru over his shoulder. He already looks fucked out, flushed, eyes wet and glassy from the constant stimulation, eyelashes clumped with tears.

“Please,” Satoru almost whispers, “put your dick in me, I can’t—”

“God,” Suguru whispers as the head of his cock catches and then slips past Satoru’s rim. He’s so tight and hot and Suguru’s stomach tenses with the feeling. “You don’t know what you do me to,” he whispers, “Satoru, you don’t fucking know—” He wants to fuck Satoru forever. He pushes in slow, strokes where they’re connected, spreads Satoru, tugs at his rim. Satoru’s hand slaps against the counter, a stuttered ah falling out of his mouth. “Taking me so well,” Suguru murmurs into Satoru’s ear, bending over as he sinks into him, gets as deep as he can and stays there for a moment. He presses a soft kiss to the shell of Satoru’s ear just to feel him shiver. “Look so good, you drive me crazy.”

“Fuck me,” Satoru pants, “Suguru, fuck me, love the way you fuck me—”

Suguru groans and kisses Satoru’s neck and the back of his head and his undercut. He fucks him hard until Satoru’s not saying harder anymore, just making these little punched out sounds. His mouth is open, the counter wet, and his fingers scrabble for purchase on the marble and find nothing. Suguru’s holding his hips so hard he thinks it will bruise. He thinks about Satoru in his apartment again, imagines morning sunlight, Satoru in one of Suguru’s shirts, Satoru’s hands grasping the counter by Suguru’s espresso machine, knocking things askew, Suguru’s dick inside him.

“Fuck,” Suguru says and comes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Satoru chants underneath him, “god–”

Suguru catches his breath with his forehead pressed to the back of Satoru’s neck. He grinds his hips where they’re flush against Satoru’s ass, ignoring the overstimulation because he can tell it feels good for Satoru. He reaches around and jerks Satoru off tight and quick, other hand splayed on Satoru’s stomach.

“I’ll look into the maid outfit,” he whispers, biting the nape of Satoru’s neck.

Satoru chokes out a laugh and turns his head. “Kiss me, hurry, hurry, Suguru–” He comes nearly as soon as their mouths meet. It’s fucked up, how Suguru feels like he’s going to get hard again, dick still inside Satoru, just because of the way Satoru comes, how he feels, the way Suguru’s name sounds slipping out of Satoru’s mouth.

Suguru means to leave after they clean up but instead he finds himself kissing Satoru, stroking over his skin and the marks from the edge of the counter and Suguru’s fingers on his hips. Somehow he ends up in bed with Satoru as they look at maid costumes online. He imagines Satoru wearing them and listens to Satoru telling him how hot he would look in them until they both get horny and jerk each other off. It’s fucked up how good Satoru’s hand feels on his dick, how hot it is when Satoru licks his own come off Suguru’s hand and kisses him, pushes some into Suguru’s mouth.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, kissing Satoru’s fingers, sucking them, “I’m gonna fucking— god, dream about you forever, I don’t—”

Satoru looks at him with an oddly possessive glint to his eyes.

“Good. I dream about you, I jerk off thinking about you when you’re not here, Suguru. You make me feel so good, no one has ever fucked me so good, not like you do.”

“Jesus.” Suguru pushes Satoru into the pillows. “Let me touch you.” He needs to feel Satoru’s mouth against his, his body against his. He doesn’t know if he can get hard again yet but they don’t even need to fuck. He just needs to touch.

He doesn’t analyze why, when he wakes up, he double checks he put Satoru’s birthday in his phone like he’ll need to know next year or the year after or the year after that.

Three days later, when he sees Satoru again, he brings him expensive white strawberries.

“Secondary birthday gift.” He says as he offers them. “Sorry again.”

Satoru rolls his eyes.

“How about you come on my face again and we can forget the whole thing?”

Suguru wouldn’t know how to turn that down even if he wanted to. There’s no way he wants to. Satoru’s mouth is hot and wet and plush and he looks so good, looking up at Suguru, hands on his knees while he lets Suguru use him. Satoru lets Suguru fuck his face, tears spilling out of those pretty blue eyes, spit dripping out of the stretched corners of his mouth. Suguru pulls him off and Satoru gasps and chases his cock, face covered in spit and precome and tears. He’s hard in his sweats and Suguru can see the damp spot from where his dick is leaking. He taps the head of his cock on Satoru’s spit slick lower lip and Satoru makes a wrecked little sound, shifting on the floor. Suguru’s dick pulses and drips precome into Satoru’s open and waiting mouth.

“You’re so good,” Suguru tells him, watches Satoru’s eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, you’re so good.” He rubs his dick on Satoru’s lips. “Touch yourself, you wanna touch yourself while you blow me?”

Satoru nods, trembling hands moving to get his dick out. Suguru rubs his cock on Satoru’s face while he does, smears more spit and precome all across his teary cheeks. Satoru gets off on blowing him so much that he comes before Suguru does, jerking himself off fast while he sucks on the head of Suguru’s cock.

Suguru comes soon after, hard, hands clenched in Satoru’s hair. He can feel the orgasm in his body even after his heartbeat has calmed. He pulls Satoru to his feet and into bed with him, kissing his swollen lips, nipping at them, tasting himself on Satoru’s tongue. Satoru stretches next to him on the bed, long legs, pale skin, his blue eyes wet and beautiful. Suguru kisses him and kisses him, is indulgent with it, touches every inch of his skin while he tells him how good he is, how beautiful he is. Satoru smiles dreamily as Suguru thumbs his bruised and swollen lips.

“God, I wanna fuck you.” Suguru whispers. “Wanna come again ‘toru? Want me to fuck you? I’ll make you feel good—”

Satoru groans, low and heated, voice wrecked. He pulls Suguru to him harshly and they kiss until they both get hard again. Suguru finds the lube so he can finger Satoru and Satoru takes him easily— Suguru’s finger slides up to the second knuckle in a way that’s borderline obscene. Suguru kisses Satoru’s rim as he works his fingers in, ignoring the taste of the lube to taste the salty sweet of Satoru’s skin and sweat. Suguru loves the way Satoru feels around his fingers. He’s barely got three fingers in when Satoru starts to shift, hips kicking down.

“Now please,” Satoru’s voice is all ruined and scratchy and Suguru feels his gut tighten when he hears it, “get your dick inside me right now.”

“Bratty again, huh?” Suguru kisses him, scissors his fingers again, working three deep.

“Fuck it out of me,” Satoru challenges with a raspy laugh.

“I will.” Suguru says as he pulls his hand out. He smacks Satoru very lightly on the thigh which makes Satoru laugh, high and breathless.

“A promise.” Satoru murmurs as Suguru sits them up and tugs Satoru into his lap. Satoru likes to ride him, likes it when Suguru helps, hands tight on his hips, helping him move. He sinks down on Suguru with a groan. Suguru gets deep this way, can mark up Satoru’s neck as he pants and bounces.

“Can’t,” Satoru eventually breathes, “Suguru–”

Suguru throws him down on the bed and pins his wrists, fucks him hard, bending him nearly in half.

“Oh fuck.” Satoru says and comes.

Suguru slows down and lets Satoru breathe for a second, his body shaking. He waits until Satoru opens his eyes again and shifts, lifts his hips up like he can get Suguru deeper.

“Keep going,” he mumbles. “Come for me, please, Suguru, come for me—.”

Suguru’s movements stutter, something about the way Satoru is looking at him and the way he sounds, like he wants nothing more than for Suguru to come, has never wanted anything as badly as he wants Suguru to come.

“Satoru—” Suguru says, somewhere between a moan and a plea as he comes. Satoru makes a low sound in response, tugging Suguru down into a slow slow kiss. Between them his dick jerks weakly.

Suguru wants to keep him forever.

He kisses Satoru’s eyelids. Satoru hums, pulling their lips back together. Suguru carries him to the bath and keeps kissing him. He doesn’t even consider going home. He doesn’t remember the last time he thought he should leave after they fucked. This thing with Satoru– it’s not how Suguru operates. It goes against every rule he has ever created for himself, each neat organized box and his carefully constructed schedule. Suguru has no idea what to do about it. He tries to make himself care and can’t. He falls asleep next to Satoru, kisses his shoulder blades as Satoru mumbles his name.

Suguru’s late for work again the next morning.

Even if the sex is that good and they are friends, Suguru doesn’t know why he’s texting Satoru on a weekday at 11am, fresh out of his company required health check-up. They’ve known each other for real, been fucking, for over a month now, but he’s not sure they’ve ever hung out during the day aside from post-sex breakfasts. Actually, when he thinks about it, they’ve never hung out without the implication that sex will be happening soon or the fact that sex had recently happened.

There’s not really a reason to text Satoru to ask him if he’s eaten yet. There’s not a reason, except that Suguru is in Roppongi-itchome and that’s where Satoru’s office is. Satoru responds nearly immediately, tells Suguru to hold that thought, tells him he’s gonna take Suguru out to lunch because there’s a really good restaurant that he knows Suguru will like.

Suguru does like the restaurant. It’s a hole in the wall and out of the way and he never would have known it was here— which is a crime because it’s fucking amazing.

Satoru wriggles his eyebrows as he watches Suguru eat, clearly proud of himself.

“It’s good.” Suguru admits with a sigh and Satoru crows in delight, drawing a few eyes. Suguru doesn’t even care. “It’s really fucking good.”

They barely even touch all lunch, him and Satoru. A brush of hands, maybe. Satoru seems to defer to Suguru’s sensibilities. It is also the middle of the day and a crowded area and they both have to go back to work so it makes sense but still. Suguru’s surprised and not surprised at all how easy it is to hang out with Satoru like this.

He taps Satoru’s shoe under the table and Satoru tilts his head in question. Suguru shrugs and smiles at him. He doesn’t know how to say what he’s trying to say.

After that, they start hanging out together more often, no sex involved. Sometimes Suguru goes over to Satoru’s house and they play video games or read Shounen Jump or watch whatever show Satoru is currently into. Suguru doesn’t spend the night when they do that but still. Sometimes they grab food during the day, especially when they’re in the same area for work. They start meeting at an izakaya halfway between their houses, even if it’s only to grab a drink after work and chat. They still have sex but Suguru finds he likes these moments as well, little glimpses of another life.

They settle into something like a routine as December gets colder and colder.

Suguru untangles himself from Satoru’s arms gently one night, after takeout and lazy sex, to go to the bathroom. When he comes back, Satoru mumbles in his sleep, presses his nose into Suguru’s chest as they curl back together under the blankets. Suguru feels a strange and sudden sense of anxiety tremble through his body as he realizes how normal sleeping with Satoru has become. How good it feels. But then Satoru sniffles in his sleep, burrows closer to Suguru, and the feeling dissipates. He closes his eyes. He tells himself he’ll think about it tomorrow.

He takes Satoru out for breakfast instead of thinking about it.

Satoru is telling a really elaborate story about his childhood as they eat and Suguru wants to know more. He keeps wanting to know more. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to know this much about a person, wanted to hear what they think and what makes them tick. He wants to see Satoru smile, hear him laugh.

I like you, he thinks, testing it out as he looks at Satoru. He realizes how true it is. He likes him. He likes him a lot. Maybe one day, when they’re old, he’ll be able to look back at all this and it won’t hurt and things will be okay. Maybe one day, he tells himself, eyes tracing the line of Satoru’s veins under his skin as he flexes his hand.

“Bullshit.” He says to Satoru instead of anything else running through his head.

“Not even a joke.” Satoru says. “I swear to god, my parents sent me to a finishing school in Kyoto. It’s part of how I know Utahime. She hated me. She lowkey still hates me but she’s also fiercely protective of me. Possibly because she thinks I’m kind of socially inept.”

“You are.” Suguru tells him.

“You are.” Satoru mimics and throws the lemon slice from his water at Suguru’s chest.

Suguru bats it away and raises an eyebrow. “They don’t have finishing schools in Kyoto.” He says. Satoru has syrup on his face. Suguru wants to lick it off, which is inappropriate so he’s not going to. He holds out a napkin. Satoru looks at it and then looks up at him questioningly. Suguru touches Satoru lightly on the corner of his mouth. “Syrup.”

“They do,” Satoru reiterates, cleaning his mouth, “they do. I’ll get Utahime to tell you. You’ll see.”

Which is how, three days before Christmas, Suguru ends up out drinking with Shoko, and Utahime for the first time. Shoko is quick-witted and smart. She and Suguru get along well, although she looks at him like she’s analyzing him and he’s not sure what she’s finding out. Utahime and Satoru trade insults like they’re collectibles and Suguru thinks, underneath it all, Utahime would probably kill for Satoru. He has more than an inkling that Satoru would kill for her too. It’s a weird sibling dynamic that Shoko seems accustomed to but it does throw Suguru off at first, an only child raised to be unfailingly polite.

Shoko kisses Utahime’s cheek when Utahime is particularly angry, sputtering at something Satoru has said. Satoru cackles triumphantly until he catches Suguru’s eyes. Suguru raises an eyebrow to show that he’s unimpressed. Satoru sighs dramatically and falls into Suguru’s side, looking up at him beseechingly. Suguru wrinkles his nose at Satoru and shakes his head.

Satoru sobers, sits up on the bench and mutters an apology to Utahime.

Utahime and Shoko stop talking and stare at Satoru like they don’t know who he is.

“Okay.” Utahime says hesitantly, like she thinks it’s a trap.

Satoru beams at her and then at Suguru. He eats a bite of tako wasabi they were each served when they sat down and chokes, muttering that it’s too spicy. He pushes it at Suguru, who takes it without comment and hands Satoru his water. Suguru notices Shoko looking at him again, slow and analytical. Suguru smiles at her but her expression doesn’t change much at all.

He goes home with Satoru and feels Shoko’s eyes on him the whole way.

On Christmas Eve, Satoru texts him that they should hang out so Suguru can eat cake off of his body. Suguru rolls his eyes. He doesn’t respond at first. Christmas is a romantic holiday. Hanging out on Christmas Eve– it’s a thing couples do. He should turn Satoru down, probably.

He doesn’t.

He goes over to Satoru’s and they eat fried chicken that Satoru must have bought pre-emptively, which Suguru tries not to think about. They watch TV and argue about the moral weight of the characters in Old Boy. They fuck on the couch. Satoru did buy cake, so after Suguru makes Satoru come again in the shower and he’s soft and sleepy and pliant, Suguru feeds it to him. Satoru feeds him back, movements languid, eyes dark. Suguru eats every strawberry that Satoru offers him, whipped cream and all, sucks it off his fingers. He’s amazed they somehow don’t end up fucking again. They do end up kissing though, for hours, until Suguru feels warm all over, half asleep. Satoru’s lips are kiss bitten and red and Suguru can’t stop looking at them, touching them, kissing him. He pulls Satoru close as they drift off.

Satoru leaves early the next morning, a half-remembered kiss, telling Suguru he’s free to make coffee or whatever he wants before he leaves, as long as he doesn’t smoke inside.

Suguru doesn’t make himself coffee. He gathers his things and heads back home. When he cleans up and changes for work, he tries not to think about how quiet his apartment is. He feels off all day, something he can’t quite put his finger on, can’t quite grasp the shape of in his head. It tastes vaguely like longing, an aftertaste of Satoru in his mouth, on his skin.

He smokes two cigarettes during his lunch break and stares at the frozen and clear winter sky. It looks vaguely the same color as Satoru’s eyes, except that Satoru’s eyes hold whole worlds in them and the sky right now is just one plain and uniform bright blue.

He looks down at his feet, the empty coffee can he’s using as an ashtray.

His phone buzzes with a message from Yuki asking why they don’t see him anymore. He realizes he hasn’t seen them for more than two weeks. He realizes he can’t make it through a day without seeing Satoru, even if it’s just some random selfie. He realizes he’s been sending selfies. He sees Satoru just as much in the daylight as in the night. He just spent Christmas Eve with him for fucks sake. He can’t stop thinking about Satoru. He thinks about him at work, he thinks about him on the train, he thinks about him at home. Satoru Satoru Satoru. He craves him. It’s just like how he got addicted to cigarettes– slowly and then all at once.

Friends with benefits, he reminds himself and tries to gain some control of the situation.

He pulls back from Satoru just a little. Not a ton, but a little. Probably more how friends with benefits should work, right? He doesn’t see Satoru after Christmas Eve. They still text but he makes sure he sees Yuki and Choso. He makes sure he gets sleep, goes to the gym. He goes out for dinner with Haibara and Nanami again. He’s only gone out with them a few times, but he’s surprised by how nice it is to have more friends who he doesn’t have to hide that part of himself from. It’s painful in a weird way, presses against his rules and his expectations for himself, but it’s also nice. Freeing.

He smokes more cigarettes than he has in months.

Only, when he doesn’t respond to Satoru right away, it seems to bug him more than Satoru. Suguru responds to a text from Satoru a day late, says sorry because he feels bad for more reasons than one. Satoru just responds with a string of question marks and then weren’t you working lol chill out man which is so fundamentally unexpected that Suguru stares at his ceiling for twenty minutes and then asks Satoru if he wants to get a drink. He wants to see him. It hurts like a burn, this need to see him. It’s an ache in his skin. It’s only been five days since they’ve seen each other. It’s only been five days.

Satoru meets him at a bar in Nichome because he says he wants to be able to kiss Suguru when he feels like it, which is apparently when he walks in and sees Suguru.

“God, you’re hot. Missed your face.” Satoru says easily, kisses him again, tugging at his bangs as they part. He slides into the chair across from Suguru.

“Missed you too.” Suguru says absently, drinking him in. Satoru looks at him, tilts his head. Suguru flushes, his words catching up to him.

“Be right back,” Satoru says, before Suguru can flounder, “I’m gonna go order something obnoxious.” He comes back with a strange pink concoction and smiles beatifically at Suguru. “Your whiskey looks gross.” He tells him. “How’s your week been? Why have you been ignoring me?”

Suguru shrugs listlessly. His week has been shit. “I wasn’t.” He says. Satoru levels him with an extremely unimpressed look. “You didn’t seem to care.” He says finally and hates that he sounds bitter, even to his own ears.

“I care.” Satoru says and slurps a huge gulp of his drink, pops the cherry in his mouth. “Figured I was being overbearing and you needed space. It’s been said about me before.” His eyes go a little distant as he speaks and he turns, scanning the room. “I’m, this is a quote, a lot.”

Suguru shifts, uncomfortable and angry for reasons he can’t place.

“It’s my own shit.” He says with finality, reaching out to tap Satoru on the wrist and catch his gaze. “You’ve not done anything wrong. Sorry. My week’s been shit.” He wasn’t going to get into all of it but finds that he wants to, with Satoru. He missed talking to Satoru. “My mom is bugging me about doing an omiai, she’s been texting and calling constantly. Now my dad is bugging me about how I’m not responding to my mom and she just wants what’s best for me, they both do. I don’t know, it’s really getting to me. I’m just fucking sick of this shit.”

“Omiai is so antiquated.” Satoru says with a small frown, kicks his leg up onto Suguru’s lap. “Why’d you say no though? Isn’t that your big plan, no future with a man right? Shouldn’t you find a nice lady?” He looks around the bar again as he speaks, like he doesn’t particularly feel the need to meet Suguru’s eyes.

Suguru hates it. He pinches Satoru’s bare ankle.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, when Satoru looks at him.

“Your words not mine,” Satoru says pointedly, “I still think if it’s legal marriage you’re after or whatever you could just move to, I don’t know, Malta or something, be gay, meet a nice young man.”

“Aren’t you a nice young man?” Suguru asks without meaning to, “Why do I gotta meet someone else?”

Satoru laughs. “Sweetheart,” he drawls in that weird American accent he picked up doing his MBA that Suguru hates to admit he likes, “I’m anything but.”

And that’s a lie, really. Satoru is, in fact, a nice person. He hides it under a casual demeanor and a facade of distractions and slights of hand– but he’s kind. He cares about the juniors in his company. He doesn’t make people work overtime, unless they’re appropriately compensated for it. He teaches a kid’s class at his gym on the weekends, some sort of MMA that Suguru isn’t sure about, but he knows Satoru lights up when he talks about it, doesn’t accept money to teach it.

Satoru removes his foot from Suguru’s lap and Suguru blinks at him, confused. Satoru slides his chair closer to Suguru and kicks his foot up again with a bright grin. He takes a sip of his drink. Suguru strokes his ankle, rubs his thumb over the bone.

“Is that your plan?” Suguru asks finally. “Malta and meet a nice young man? Have you ever been to Malta?”

“Yeah, we vacationed there once when I was younger. Summered, if you will.”

“Nepo-baby.” Suguru chides.

Satoru wiggles his eyebrows and doesn’t answer Suguru’s question.

“Utahime and Shoko got in a weird fight.” He says without preamble, before Suguru can ask again. He doesn’t know why he wants to know so badly. “Wanna hear about it?”

“Yeah.” Suguru says with a snort. “Well, as long as it ends well.”

“Definitely, they were making out when I left.” Satoru nods.

Satoru gets more and more flushed as he drinks, just like always. Suguru thinks it’s pretty. They’re pressed up close behind their table. Satoru is leaned into him, laughing about something, eyes sparkling. Suguru wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so badly— not to have it lead anywhere but just because he wants to kiss him.

“Why're you looking at me like that?” Satoru pokes his nose. “Hey mister.”

“Wow,” Suguru snorts, grabs Satoru’s hand and puts it down on the table. He doesn’t let go, laces their fingers together, “You really can’t drink.”

Satoru shrugs, waves his other hand airly. “What are you doing for New Years, wanna do hatsumode with me tomorrow night?” He squints at his watch. “Tonight, I guess. Or do you go, like, during the day on the first?”

“Yeah,” Suguru says, “I want to. I don’t care, night is fine, day would be fine too. We can hang out tomorrow, eat soba, watch Kouhaku, do hatsumode, grab some food.” He clears his throat when he realizes he’s rambling. Planning a date, maybe. Satoru looks at him intensely for a moment, eyes sharp despite the liquor. Suguru opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what. He doesn’t get the chance.

“Why do you drink whiskey?” Satoru asks, focusing on Suguru’s drink suddenly. “To look cool? It’s working if that’s why. Let me have some.”

“No.” Suguru pulls his glass away from Satoru’s reaching hands. “You’re not gonna like it. Finish your weird pink thing.”

“No,” Satoru whines, grabbing at it, “give me.”

“Stop,” Suguru says, pushing him back in his seat. Satoru pouts at him. Suguru wants to kiss him. He wants to hold his hand. His wires are all crossed. He takes a deep breath. “Close your eyes.” He tells Satoru. Satoru does, instantly obedient in a way that makes every single one of Suguru’s nerves feel simultaneously electrified. He looks at Satoru sat waiting, slightly parted lips, eyes closed, hair mussed, shirt collar undone. He finds himself staring for just a moment too long.

“Suguru.” Satoru peeks one eye open. “What am I doing?”

“Close ‘em.” Suguru says again, voice rougher than he means it to be. Satoru, with a little sigh, does.

Suguru takes a sip of his drink and then kisses Satoru. He pushes the whiskey into his mouth in exchange for the startled sound Satoru makes, holds his jaw steady with one hand so he doesn’t pull back. He feels some of the whiskey spill out of the side of Satoru’s mouth as Suguru licks into it. He pulls back and Satoru looks at him, wide eyed and wanting. Suguru thumbs at the corner of his mouth, the drop of whiskey there.

“More.” Satoru says, leaning toward him, digging fingers into Suguru’s jean-clad thigh.

Suguru tries to pretend he’s unaffected by the way Satoru looks from one messy kiss. He’s not unaffected. He thinks Satoru knows. Satoru seems to unerringly know.

Suguru takes another sip and barely makes it to Satoru before Satoru is kissing him, climbing half into his lap, desperate with it, mouth open. Suguru feels dizzy. Satoru pulls back slowly, lips lingering. Suguru resists the urge to tug him back into the kiss but only barely.

“More?” He asks.

Satoru’s just looking at him, hand tight on Suguru’s thigh. Suguru wants to bend him over the table. He wants to get down on his knees. He wants to kiss him. He does that one, open mouthed and dirty.

“Sug’ru,” Satoru says when Suguru pulls back. He sounds the way he does before he comes. Suguru’s body is on fire.

“Fuck.” Suguru says. It’s lucky they’re at a gay bar but they’re still in public, no matter how back in a corner they might be. Suguru glances around. No one seems to be paying them any attention. Other people are making out even. They don’t stand out. It’s a strangely freeing feeling.

“Suguru,” Satoru says, tilting Suguru’s face back toward his. “Give me more.” He opens his mouth again, tongue sticking slightly out, looking at Suguru through his lashes. Suguru takes a sip to steady himself, then another one to give Satoru. He leans in, hand on Satoru’s jaw again, and watches Satoru watch him, mouth open and inviting. He lifts up a little. They stare at each other for a few seconds and it’s heated in a way Suguru doesn’t fully understand. He spits his mouthful of whiskey into Satoru’s waiting mouth, hand too tight on his jaw. Satoru’s hand finds his hip, the bare inch of skin there. “Take me home now, Suguru.” Satoru says after he swallows, eyes flashing.

Suguru can only obey.

Satoru whispers filthy things to him while they wait for the cab. He texts them when they’re in the cab, fingers tracing the seam of Suguru’s jeans. Suguru is so hard it hurts. Satoru gets Suguru’s mouth on his when he’s barely in the door, pushes him onto the couch and climbs into his lap. Suguru’s overwhelmed by him. It feels good.

“Fuck,” he whispers into Satoru’s mouth. He missed this. “Satoru–”

“Don’t do that again,” Satoru tells him, tugs his piercing, licks the shell of his ear, one of his hands trailing down Suguru’s chest, up under his shirt, scraping at his ribs.

“Do what?” Suguru gasps. Satoru is moving against him in a way that makes it hard to think, to form a sentence. He missed him, missed his body, missed this, Satoru’s voice in his ear, the force of nature liveliness of him. He missed Satoru. He kisses him hard. “Don’t do what? Tell me, I won’t.”

“If you’re done with me then tell me you’re done. Don’t just disappear.” Satoru grinds down. It’s rough friction. There are too many layers between them. Suguru wants him naked, wants them both naked. Satoru grabs him by the jaw and stares him dead in the eyes. “Don’t.” He says, like a warning.

“I won’t.” Suguru pants. “I’m sorry, I won’t.”

“Are you done with me?” Satoru asks, like Suguru might say yes, deposit Satoru on the couch, walk out.

“No.” Suguru breathes. “Satoru, no, I’m– I’m sorry, I don’t want to be done with us–”

Satoru smiles, strangely soft.

“With us, huh?” He murmurs. Before Suguru can even try to decipher that Satoru tugs his hair hard and tilts his head up. He kisses Suguru like he’s decided something. He bites at Suguru as he undresses him, leaves hickies that Suguru thinks will take weeks to fade. Suguru likes it. He gives Satoru one low, by his collarbones, but mostly just lets himself be swept away by Satoru invading all of his senses, until everything is just—

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

New Year’s is a lazier affair than they mean it to be. They wake up late on the 31st. Suguru makes them both coffee, cuts up some fruit. They watch shitty movies on the TV. They go out for a late lunch to a restaurant they frequent so often Suguru feels perturbed if they don’t sit where they usually sit. They make out in the afternoon. He gets Satoru off in the kitchen because he can. Satoru comes in his mouth and Suguru sticks out his tongue before he swallows, watches Satoru shudder at the look of it, eyes dark. They eat soba and watch Kohaku and take opposing sides so they have something to fight about. They fuck in the bathroom, Satoru bent over the counter, head pillowed on his arms, panting out Suguru’s name. Suguru pulls him up, makes him watch himself in the mirror, see how he looks coming undone because of Suguru’s cock. They take a bath together and fall asleep in Satoru’s bed, Suguru’s charger where he left it the other week, a novel he was reading and forgot a few weeks ago on the nightstand he uses.

He wakes up to Satoru kissing the back of his neck. When Suguru’s awake and kissing back, Satoru rolls him over and climbs on top of him.

“Do you like morning sex?” Satoru whispers, licking a stripe up Suguru’s neck. Satoru grinds against his hip, already hard, and coaxes a low groan out of Suguru’s mouth. He nods into the next kiss, hands roaming Satoru’s bare skin. Satoru gets Suguru hard with quick efficient strokes, hand tight just the way Suguru likes it. “Get a condom,” Satoru pants into his mouth, “come on, you worked me open so good last night, I’m still ready. Suguru, please–”

Suguru rolls them over, kissing Satoru as he knocks things off the nightstand looking for the lube, condoms. He fingers Satoru open gently, checks that Satoru is actually ready and not too sore, not going to get hurt. He’s tight, his rim a little puffy, and he winces a bit at first, then relaxes. Suguru uses a little extra lube, makes sure it’s wet. Once he has the condom on, Satoru pushes Suguru onto his back. He rides Suguru slow, faces away so Suguru can see himself going in and out of Satoru, see where they’re joined, see the arch of Satoru’s back. It makes Suguru feel like he never wants to get out of bed, his nails biting into Satoru’s ass, spreading him, squeezing him. Suguru lifts up, kisses the back of Satoru’s neck as he pushes him forward. He gets Satoru on all fours, fucks him deep and fast, Satoru panting and pushing back against Suguru. Satoru says his name long and drawn out, half choked off, reaches behind him and locks one of his fingers with Suguru’s on his hip.

It doesn’t take very long for either of them after that.

They do eventually get out of bed and shower, sharing lazy kisses the whole time. Satoru dries Suguru’s hair, asks if he can plait it, gets frustrated and gives up. Suguru pulls it half up and Satoru tells him that’s a good look, like it’s the first time he’s seen it. He tugs on Suguru’s bangs. It’s cute. He’s cute, Suguru thinks not for the first time. Satoru in his sweater and his rolled up jeans, putting on a big puffy jacket and his mirrored sunglasses, pushing them up his nose while he ties his sneakers. Cute. They go to hatsumode at the shrine by Satoru’s house and pray, get their fortunes. Both of them get good fortune for the year. Satoru seems to take that seriously, lets out a happy sigh. Satoru and him weave through some stalls and share dango as they walk.

Suguru buys Satoru a handwarmer and a can of warm coffee to hold because he keeps shivering. They eventually relent to the cold and start to walk toward the station so Suguru can go home. Suguru wants to kiss Satoru, has been wanting to kiss him. He pulls Satoru slightly behind a building so they’re out of the eyeline of everyone and kisses him, lingering. Satoru’s lips are wet with Suguru’s mouth when he pulls away. He blinks up at Suguru like he’s dazed. Pulls Suguru back down for another kiss, this one longer.

“I’ll text you.” Suguru whispers and Satoru, clutching the hand warmer Suguru gave him, nods and says,

“You’d better.”

Suguru texts him from the train, then during the walk to his apartment, then from his apartment, then from his bedroom. Satoru calls him, laughing, says okay okay, I get it already. Suguru puts the phone on speaker and sends Satoru another picture, him on his couch, then him walking to the kitchen, then him by the coffee maker.

Cutie, Satoru says over the line, my little weirdo, his voice teasing and pretty. Suguru tries not to feel warm all over.

“You’re the weird one.” He tells Satoru. “You spent like two hours yesterday analyzing Reo and Nagi’s friendship in Blue Lock.”

Was anything I said wrong? Satoru parries, sends Suguru a picture of himself on his couch, hanging off it, white hair messy. He’s pouting. Suguru wants to run his fingers through Satoru’s hair, kiss the pout off his face.

“Probably no?” Suguru says and stares at the photo a little too long, saves it in his gallery. “No, I guess you were right. I mean, I’ve never read or seen Blue Lock so.”

And we’ll rectify this and also the fact you’ve never seen Sasaki and Miyano. Satoru says patiently. You’re not a lost cause yet.

“Shut the fuck up?”

They end up talking for so long that Suguru thinks maybe he should have just spent the rest of the day with Satoru anyway. He runs to the convenience store to buy something quick for dinner and, while he’s there, picks up some gummy candy that he knows that Satoru likes. He puts them in his bag so he can give them to Satoru the next time he sees him.

The next week, the first of the new year, is busy. Suguru doesn’t see Satoru much at all but they’re talking often, his phone buzzing with messages. He missed the casual back and forth, the way Satoru knows how to get under his skin so good. It bothered him, not seeing or really talking with Satoru for those few days, a weird feeling in his chest, right under his ribs. It’s dangerous how much he likes Satoru. He doesn’t want to lose this until he has to. He knows he will have to eventually– Satoru will get sick of his shit– but until then he can keep this.

He smokes three cigarettes in quick succession. He asks Satoru if he wants to meet up. Satoru sends one of his strings of emojis that Suguru is beginning to be able to translate. He thinks Satoru might use some emojis differently than the rest of the world.

He gets a text from Satoru that evening saying that he had to take a bullet train to Osaka for a work emergency. Suguru can tell Satoru is contrite by the proper grammar, the frustration evident in the phrasing. He tells Satoru not to worry. There’s no reason to worry. It’s fine. Suguru fucks around in his house, drinks a few beers, catches up on books. He goes out with Nanami and Haibara for dinner. He goes home and sits on his balcony, wrapped in blankets because it’s freezing out. He watches the stars.

It’s fine, he reminds himself, which maybe he’s having to remind himself of too often lately. He’s getting too attached. This is on him. Satoru shouldn’t have to feel contrite. Suguru’s need shouldn’t be so insistent. His heart doesn’t listen very well, so he reviews all of his rules and categories and reasonings why he has lived this way up until now– until the cold gets to him and he can’t feel his face properly anymore. He goes inside and lets his skin sting from all the warmth.

That’s what being around Satoru feels like too, in a way.

[satoru]
ugh i miss u
come fuck me
or pet my head or something

[suguru]
i miss you too

Suguru has to go outside and smoke two cigarettes after he sends that, digs the heels of his hands into eyes and takes a breath.

[satoru]
so show up at my hotel door!!!!!!

Suguru calls him instead.

When Satoru gets back to Tokyo he sends Suguru a selfie in front of his mirror and then a text that says home!!!!! Suguru would have known anyway. He knows Satoru’s apartment backwards and forwards at this point. He knows Satoru’s apartment like it’s his own. He looks around his own quiet apartment. He wants Satoru here. He wants Satoru in his bed.

Come over? he sends along with his address. Satoru sends winky faces and says to give him an hour and he’ll be there.

Suguru doesn’t think any other guy he’s fucked even knew what station Suguru lived by, much less his address. He doesn’t care. He wants to know what Satoru looks like tangled in his sheets. He wants his hallways lightened with the sound of Satoru’s footsteps. He wants Satoru’s voice in all the corners of his apartment to keep Suguru company when he’s alone. Suguru wants to open a cupboard and have Satoru’s laugh come tumbling out. He wants to find Satoru’s hair in his shower drain. He wants his pillows to smell like amaretto and citrus. He goes to smoke a cigarette and then remembers Satoru doesn’t like it when he smells like cigarettes. He paces his apartment instead.

He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to control himself when he sees Satoru at his door. Suguru has gone longer, much longer by far, without even jerking off, much less having someone else involved, so it’s not excess pent up sexual energy. It’s just— Satoru. He sees Satoru in his doorway and thinks he’s never wanted anyone as bad as he wants Satoru. He’s never known there were so many ways to want someone. He sees Satoru and wants to know him so intimately he can never unknow him.

“You’re hot.” Suguru says instead of much else and pushes Satoru up against his door. He bites down on his neck, leaves a hickey maybe slightly too high for Satoru to cover.

Satoru, always easily game for whatever Suguru throws his way, knocks his head back with a gasp and a laugh. He arches into Suguru, wriggles out of his jacket, and kisses Suguru like he’s air. Suguru’s so into it. Into the way Satoru’s hands automatically find his waist, the hitch in his breath when Suguru runs his tongue over the roof of Satoru’s mouth as they kiss.

Suguru unbuttons and unzips Satoru’s jeans, which earns him a groaned babble of curses. He sticks his hand into Satoru’s pants and starts to palm him through his boxers. Satoru’s only half-hard at first but– under Suguru’s hand and with Suguru’s mouth against his neck, his pulse point, the line of his jaw– he gets hard fast. Satoru stutters out a curse and smacks the door behind him, when Suguru reaches inside his boxers, squeezes the wet head of his dick.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, “Suguru, we’re at your door, people can hear us— me. Your neighbors–” Satoru groans when Suguru starts to move his hand,“shit, do that again, fuck, don’t you care?”

“Let them hear you.” Suguru says and bites down hard on his neck as he strokes Satoru. Satoru jerks under him, cock dripping precome over Suguru’s knuckles. He moans loud and open. “You sound good,” Suguru tells him, “they should hear. They should be jealous.”

“Kinky motherfucker.” Satoru chides, pulling Suguru’s hand out of his pants and kissing it before he tugs at the waistband of Suguru’s sweatpants.

“You’re one to talk.” Suguru says. Satoru cackles in response, slides his hands into Suguru’s sweats and palms Suguru’s ass, squeezes.

“Hey,” he murmurs into Suguru’s mouth, “wanna make that ponytail thing happen tonight?”

Suguru does. Suguru really really does. He hasn’t bottomed in a while so he tells Satoru that between kisses. Satoru laughs and says duh. Suguru realizes with a start they’ve been fucking for long enough that Satoru would know that. He gives a very half-hearted apartment tour, distracted by Satoru’s mouth against his, his hand on Suguru’s dick.

“I’m gonna clean up,” he tells Satoru. Satoru smacks his ass as he leaves.

Satoru’s waiting on his bed in his boxers when Suguru gets back, towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hot,” Satoru says, “get rid of that towel and get over here.” Suguru rolls his eyes but complies with the command. Satoru palms himself slowly while Suguru crawls across the bed to him. It’s unreasonably attractive.

“How do you want me?” Suguru asks.

Satoru kisses him slow and steady and like they have all the time in the world. Maybe they do. Suguru lets himself be pushed back on the bed. Satoru settles between his legs, strokes his thighs, and looks at Suguru like he wants to eat him. Suguru wants him to.

Satoru works Suguru open real slow, a patience he doesn’t have with himself, one that Suguru’s not sure he’s seen before in Satoru during sex. It’s mind-numbingly good. He strokes around Suguru’s hole carefully, bites and kisses at his thighs, tongues at his balls. Suguru rocks down on his fingers, long and slim and stretching him just right.

“M’ready.” He tells Satoru.

“Not yet,” Satoru breathes, kisses the head of his dick, and keeps going.

Suguru tries not to beg, biting down on his lips, unable to stifle the sounds he’s making. He hikes his legs up higher, spreads himself more. The angle would probably be better if he was on all fours, but Satoru put him like this and Suguru likes that. He likes that he can see Satoru. See Satoru and his intent blue eyes as he watches his fingers going in and out of Suguru. He finds Suguru’s prostate and Suguru’s eyes roll back a little. He struggles to focus on Satoru’s gentle voice.

“You’re taking my fingers so good, Suguru.” Satoru whispers, sounding wondrous. He rubs Suguru’s thigh with his other hand as he sits up. He’s naked, dick hard and straining against his stomach. Suguru doesn’t even remember Satoru taking off his boxers. It’s a strange heady rush to see Satoru so flushed and hard when he’s not even the one being touched.

“Satoru,” Suguru manages. Satoru looks at him and then lifts up and kisses his mouth, fingers still working in him, scissoring, hitting the spot that makes his breath punch out of him.

“Just be patient, I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? I need to be careful, I don’t want to hurt you, just–”

Suguru’s been patient enough.

“I’m ready, Satoru, fuck, just get in me.” Suguru pulls Satoru’s hand out and rolls over, gets up on his knees, shoots Satoru a glare over his shoulder.

“Saucy.” Satoru says. He’s smirking, but his hand, grabbing for a condom, is shaking a little. Suguru thinks Satoru’s probably just as turned on as Suguru is, maybe just as close, definitely just as ready. That makes him feel more heated. He drops down to his forearms. “Fuck,” Satoru says as he gets behind him. Suguru hisses as Satoru’s hands grab at his ass, spreading him, “look at you.” He pulls their hips flush, thrusting aimlessly, not even inside Suguru yet. It feels so good Suguru drops his head with a gasp. He buries his face in his arms, the pillow. Satoru grabs him by his hair, tugs him up hard. Hard enough it should hurt probably. His back arches as Satoru pushes in, one long slow motion that has Suguru moaning, feeling open and full in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

“You good?” Satoru whispers after he bottoms out. His voice is shaking slightly. Suguru can feel him twitch like he wants to move. He doesn’t. It makes Suguru’s gut burn hot and heavy.

“Yeah, I’m— move, you can move.” Suguru gasps.

Satoru groans and tugs his hair until Suguru lifts up more, arms shaking. Satoru pulls out a little and then pushes back in, short and contained thrusts as he leans forward and kisses the back of Suguru’s neck, tugs the hair wrapped around his hand a bit more.

“You okay?” He asks again, so gentle.

“Move.” Suguru demands and feels Satoru’s grin against his skin.

Satoru’s good in bed and this is no exception Suguru thinks as Satoru sets up a pace. He’s just as loud when he’s the one doing the fucking, this endless stream of praise that turns Suguru on, makes him want to answer in kind. He knows Satoru likes it, it had been pretty obvious from the start, but he has a hunch Satoru might like it even more right now. He groans, when Satoru hits him just right, deep inside.

“Fucking me so good, ‘toru,” he mumbles. Suguru turns his head to try to catch Satoru’s eye as he speaks. Satoru’s hips stutter against him. “There you go,” Suguru whispers, “so good, you look good, look at you,” he can barely see Satoru at the angle he’s at but it doesn’t matter. Satoru makes a strangled sound, letting go of his hair to push him down onto the pillows, hips slapping against him hard. “Feels so fucking good,” Suguru groans as Satoru grinds deep before falling forward, pressing his chest to Suguru’s back and biting the nape of his neck.

“Fuck,” he hisses in Suguru’s ear, grabs him by the jaw for a kiss that’s barely a kiss, “you drive me crazy.”

Suguru pushes back against him, gets one of Satoru’s fingers in his mouth. Satoru whimpers, the way he does when he’s vaguely overstimulated, about to come, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Yeah?” Suguru whispers, moves against him as much as can. “Gonna cry with your cock in my ass?”

Satoru bites Suguru’s ear hard, grabs at his ponytail and hauls him up, one hand around his waist. Suguru’s into that more than he wants to admit, how easy it is for Satoru to manhandle him, a weird match of strength. Satoru hits deeper at this angle and Suguru doesn’t even try to stop the moan.

“Fucking you good?” Satoru pants in his ear. It sounds like a real question.

“Yeah, god, real good, just like that, Satoru,” Suguru turns toward him for a messy open mouthed kiss. “You’re so good.” Satoru’s hand on his chest pinches one of his nipples before it drops to grab his dick and starts to jerk him off. Suguru drops his head back on Satoru’s shoulder with a groan.

“Fuck, m’gonna come.” Satoru whispers right in his ear, heated and wet. “You gonna come Suguru, gonna come?” He sounds desperate.

Suguru can only moan in response. Satoru thrusts in deep and hard, hand on the head of Suguru’s cock, and comes. Suguru can feel it inside him, the pulse of it. It’s all too much. Suguru comes seconds after Satoru and, through the haze of his orgasm, can hear Satoru whispering something under his breath that sounds like so good, so good for me, make me feel so good and then, vaguely, like you so much.

“Like you too.” Suguru slurs back, slumping toward the bed, Satoru following him, sticky with sweat and Suguru’s come. Satoru kisses the back of his neck. As he catches his breath Suguru figures it’s fine he said that. He does like Satoru, obviously. They’re friends. It doesn’t have to mean much at all, to have said that. Satoru won’t read into it, won’t question it.

“Fuck me.” Satoru mumbles after a moment, still breathing hard.

“Give me a minute.” Suguru’s throat is dry, voice rough. “Then maybe.”

Satoru laughs, so bright and good that it makes Suguru smile. He rolls over and meets him halfway for a kiss.

Satoru looks good, tangled in his sheets. Suguru kisses him again as they fall asleep. The next morning, he wakes to Satoru in his arms and gives him a chaste kiss before he heads to the shower. Suguru makes them coffee, toast, and Satoru hums and chatters, trying to convince him to watch Digimon, getting unreasonably angry when Suguru says Pokemon is better. He doesn’t even necessarily think that, he just thinks it’s funny how mad it makes Satoru.

He pulls a shot, the soothing motions and order of his espresso machine, and takes a deep breath.

When Satoru leaves, Suguru’s apartment seems exceptionally quiet and cold.

When Suguru goes over to Satoru’s next, Satoru has a movie cued up and a gleeful expression on his face.

“What.” Suguru says, immediately suspicious.

Satoru latches onto his neck and kisses his collarbones and then scrapes his teeth on Suguru’s skin. He drags Suguru to the couch.

“What’s happening?” Suguru asks.

“Howl.” Satoru says gleefully. He pushes Suguru onto the couch, sits beside him, and throws his legs over Suguru’s thighs. “Baby Suguru’s favorite movie, right?” He confirms. Suguru nods. “Baby Suguru was probably so cute.” Satoru says. “Wish I could have known you when we were both kids.”

Suguru thinks of himself as a child and wonders if Satoru would have liked him. He wonders what Satoru was like when he was a kid or in middle school, high school. He wonders if he was like he is now– instantly catching everyone’s attention, bratty, caring, kind, intelligent even when he pretends he’s not.

Satoru climbs into Suguru’s lap and kisses him. He disappears right as Suguru lifts up into the kiss, opening his mouth. He crawls back to the other side of the couch and smiles at Suguru, kicks his legs back over Suguru’s thighs.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Suguru asks, drags Satoru a little closer by the calf.

“We’re bonding.” Satoru says seriously and then cracks up. Suguru starts to laugh too. Satoru’s laughter is vaguely magnetic to him, like he has to get close to it, has to respond in kind.

“Okay,” Suguru says, tamping down on his laughter, “fine, we’re bonding, start the movie. Let’s go.”

They watch Howl’s Moving Castle. Suguru keeps repeating ‘good girl’ under his breath after Howl says it. Suguru hasn’t seen this movie in so long. It hurts in a weird way, like something slipping up under his ribs. It’s a little more bearable with Satoru next to him. He drinks the beer Satoru offers him. Satoru steals sips and opens another one for them. It’s a strange contentment that Suguru feels, a gentle one, slow like honey. By the time the movie ends Suguru feels warm and relaxed and has a lap full of Satoru, who is kissing his neck softly as the credits play.

“Baby Suguru was a romantic, huh?” Satoru asks and kisses the underside of Suguru’s jaw.

He was. He still is. It’s what makes things so confused in his head. What he wants, what he can have, what he will lose in having it, what he will gain.

“Yeah.” He mumbles. “We playing 21 questions again?”

“Oh, we could.” Satoru grins at him easy, eyes gleaming. “We should. Let’s go, let’s go.”

“What about baby Satoru,” Suguru asks, runs his hand feather light over Satoru’s ribs, his stomach. “Was he a romantic?”

“Oh no.” Satoru says with a shake of his head. “He had twenty-five organized binders of Digimon cards.”

Suguru snorts. He can see that. “Does he still have them?” He asks and isn’t surprised when Satoru shushes him.

“No follow up questions. So my turn, what were you like when you were a kid?”

“Romantic.” Suguru deadpans and gets a hard nip under his jaw where he couldn’t cover a hickey even if he wanted to. His stomach tightens at the thought, a good feeling, being visibly Satoru’s. “I was–” he thinks, “all the grandmas in the neighborhood liked me. I fed the street cats. I didn’t have too many friends.” He shifts, slightly uncomfortable with the way Satoru is looking at him. It’s too close to the way Suguru wants Satoru’s eyes on him always. It makes him feel too seen.

“You still feed street cats.” Satoru says. “Not me, I’m not a street cat,” he adds when Suguru opens his mouth to tease, to try to distract the attention from himself, “Is it the temple cats that you feed?”

It is.

“How do you know that?” Suguru speaks quietly.

“You have cat food in your apartment but no cats.” Satoru kisses him. “I like cats. There was a street cat by my high school that I took care of until I graduated. She was so pretty.”

“What were you like as a kid?” Suguru asks, brushing Satoru’s hair back from his face.

“Serious.” Satoru says and Suguru snorts. Satoru shrugs like he sort of expected that response. “I was.” He doesn’t sound insulted, lifts his head to nip at Suguru’s lips. “Strangely adult-like, I remember a teacher writing that on one of my report cards. I also liked to sneak out. I ran away once when I was, like, eight? Was just strolling around Shinjuku, casual as can be apparently. My au pair had a conniption. I can’t remember if my parents were there or angry or whatever. They weren’t around a lot. But yeah, mostly serious. It’s probably even part of why my parents hate me now, went from that to this.” He says this so casually, almost cheerfully, as he gestures at himself. It hurts.

“No one could hate you.” Suguru says. Satoru laughs.

“You definitely thought you hated me when you met me. You might have hated me.”

“You were very,” Suguru punctures the sentence with a squeeze to Satoru’s waist, “annoying.” Satoru laughs into his mouth. Suguru savors the taste as they kiss.

“What did you want to be, when you were younger?” Satoru asks.

“Skip.” Suguru murmurs, tries to kiss him again.

Satoru pulls back. “You’re way above your skip limit, buddy. They add up over rounds I’ve decided.” Suguru chases Satoru’s mouth again, but Satoru pushes him back with a finger in the divot between his collarbones. “Stay.” He says.

Suguru rolls his eyes and stays.

“What did you want to be?” He asks, running his hands up and down Satoru’s sides.

Satoru looks down at him. “The best. The strongest.”

“At everything? Or like a specific thing?” Suguru follows up after a beat of silence.

“Everything.” Satoru says with a wide grin. “Now you, why didn’t you want to answer, did baby Suguru want to be something that you think is embarrassing? Did you want to be Howl?”

Not Howl.

Suguru smiles. He closes his eyes and takes the outstretched hand in his mind. He opens his eyes and holds his hand up. Satoru takes it like it’s automatic, natural, intertwining their fingers.

“What.” Satoru demands when Suguru can’t help the fond smile.

He shakes his head.

“I think I wanted to be safe. And maybe happy. But I think I thought that was too much to ask for.” He lets his head rest against the couch. He still might think that’s too much to ask for.

Satoru looks at him for a long time, his gaze steadily tracing over Suguru’s features.

“That’s not too much to ask for, Suguru.” He whispers, his eyes refracting the light of the room strangely. “Why would that be too much to ask for?”

It’s a question Suguru doesn’t know how to answer.

He lifts up and kisses Satoru instead of trying to answer. He licks into his mouth like he can find the answer there. Satoru lets him. Satoru opens to him, shifts so that he’s closer, straddling Suguru’s thighs. He twines one hand into Suguru’s hair, brushes it back from his face. His other hand doesn’t let go of Suguru’s. He doesn’t let go of Suguru’s hand for almost the rest of the night, not unless he has to. Even when he does he always finds it again, clutches at Suguru’s fingers, strokes his palm with his thumb.

“Let me be good for you.” Satoru whispers later, in bed, mouth warm against Suguru’s ear. Suguru is pushing in as he says it and it’s too much all at once.

“You’re always good for me,” he tells Satoru, who gasps into his mouth, lifts his hips up to meet Suguru’s. Suguru fucks him deep, slow, Satoru tracing lines down his back with his nails, arching up into him. He likes when Satoru gets like that, eyes glazed, chasing his own pleasure easily.

Satoru pants his name and finds his wrist, squeezes. He gets Suguru to intertwine their fingers, Suguru falling forward onto his elbows, their chests pressed together, Satoru’s other hand tight between their bodies.

“Don’t let go.” Satoru says when Suguru loosens his fingers, “Suguru, don’t let go–”

Satoru squeezes Suguru’s hand so tight when he comes that Suguru sees his skin go white then red with the pressure. Suguru comes too, Satoru arching into him, a messy kiss that tastes like longing.

Satoru still doesn’t let go of Suguru’s hand.

It’s a unique sort of pain, that.

[satoru]
shoko and utahime want to hang out again
they said ur taking up too much of my time lmao
u, me, the lesbians, what do u say

[suguru]
haibara has been asking if i wanted to get a drink
with him and nanami
you, me, the lesbians, the gay men?

[satoru]
are we not part of the gay men
the twinks, the lesbians, the–
im losing track here

[suguru]
are we both twinks
im confused

[satoru]
idk honestly ive lost track of what im saying
i know u eat that dick up real good  tho suguru

[suguru]
satoru
i am on the train

[satoru]
okay???
poor ass, not my problem

[suguru]
i hate you
would maybe next saturday work
let me check with haibara

[satoru]
hate u too ♥️
friend group collision
let’s do it

“This is Gojo Satoru,” Suguru says and then flounders.

“We’re fucking.” Satoru supplies easily, sliding onto the bench next to Suguru.

“Okay.” Haibara says. “Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you.” Haibara’s boyfriend Nanami echoes, though his brow is a bit pinched. Suguru did clock almost instantly that he and Satoru were probably exact opposite personalities.

Introductions done, Suguru realizes Shoko and Utahime are both looking at him pointedly. He’s not sure why. Utahime raises an eyebrow and flicks it to his hand then back to his face. Suguru removes his arm from where he had slid it around Satoru’s shoulder. He doesn’t remember doing it, maybe when Satoru sat down? It had felt natural.

Satoru looks at him questioningly and then scoots closer on the bench. Suguru smiles, shakes his head slightly, and turns back to the table. Sometime later, as he leans to grab his drink from the waitress, he realizes that he’s put his arm around Satoru’s waist. He could remove it but he doesn’t. He squeezes Satoru’s hip. Satoru smiles at him, corner of his mouth turning up, and winks.

Satoru finishes his own drink then sneaks a sip of Suguru’s. He makes a disgusted sound and looks at Suguru, affronted.

“It’s my drink,” Suguru says, “it doesn’t have to cater to your tastes, Satoru.”

“It should.” Satoru sniffs and sticks out his tongue. Suguru rolls his eyes but he squeezes Satoru’s hip again. Satoru leans into him.

Satoru sneaks a sip of Utahime’s drink, then Shoko’s, and frowns. Apparently none of them are quite to his liking. He reaches for Utahime’s again and she smacks at his hands. Satoru sits back with a sigh. He gets up to go to that bathroom moments later. When he comes back, he’s humming to himself, looking pleased.

“What did you order?” Suguru asks immediately. “Satoru.” He says as Satoru ignores him, slides back onto the bench.

“Hmm?” Satoru says.

Suguru realizes the rest of the table is looking at him questioningly, probably because he cut off the conversation, but he’s still staring at Satoru who smiles at him cheerily.

“What happened?” Haibara asks as Suguru and Satoru stare at each other. Suguru thinks he can wait Satoru out. Maybe.

“I think Geto-san’s boyfriend ordered another drink.” Nanami says quietly from across the table, which is kinda funny because the way he phrases it makes it sound like he doesn’t want to have to say Satoru’s name except when necessary.

“Oh they’re not dating.” Shoko says really loudly after a few moments. “Right, you two?” She sounds kind of sarcastic.

Suguru’s mind catches up slowly. Right. Not his boyfriend. His—

“Huh?” Satoru says, blinking outward at the table, and then, “oh, right, we’re just friends with benefits, Nanami-kun.”

Suguru’s stomach tightens. The ‘just’ irks Suguru and he doesn't know why. Actually, the whole thing irks Suguru. Everything about this interaction for some reason. He has to bite his cheek to stop himself from correcting Satoru– although he doesn’t know what needs to be corrected about Satoru’s statement. It’s not wrong but–

Before anyone else, Suguru included, can speak, a waitress walks over. She’s carrying a pink frozen looking thing. Satoru does jazz hands as she places it on the table.

“It’s frose.” He explains. “Frozen rose.” Satoru smiles graciously at the waitress, pulls the drink to himself, and sucks at the straw.

Suguru takes a sip of his drink to clear his head and wishes he had a cigarette. He tries to rejoin the conversation around the table to get out of his head. Satoru locks their ankles. Suguru is distracted, looks at him, and watches as Satoru takes much too big of a gulp. He winces, puts fingers to his head, grabs at Suguru with his free hand.

“Brain freeze.” He stutters, face screwed up.

“Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth.” Suguru tells him, touches his forehead gently. Not that it’ll do anything but because it feels right and he wants to comfort.

“Put your tongue on the roof of my mouth.” Satoru mutters back.

“Okay, clearly it doesn’t hurt that bad.” Suguru rolls his eyes and drops his hand. He switches Satoru’s frose out for Suguru’s still full water glass. “What?” He tells Satoru who is looking at him angrily. “‘Toru, you’re gonna have a headache tomorrow if you drink it that fast and I’m the one who will have to deal with it. Just drink some water and then I’ll give you your drink back.”

“You love dealing with me.” Satoru counters.

“Why would I want you to be in pain?” Suguru parries.

“Ugh.” Satoru pouts at him, flushed pale pink. Suguru nudges him under the chin, tilts his head up to give him a quick kiss. He can’t not. Satoru looks so soft and disarmed when he gets like that. It’s a face he only makes sometimes and Suguru likes it so much every time that it surprises him.

“You’re cute when you pout.” He says, after he pulls back. Satoru blinks at him sort of dreamily. “I’ll make it up to you.” Suguru promises.

“You’d better.” Satoru drinks some water, looking at him pointedly. Suguru rolls his eyes. “Pancakes.” Satoru mumbles when he puts the glass down. Or that’s what Suguru thinks he says. Suguru tilts Satoru’s face toward him with one finger.

“Hmm?” He asks.

“Breakfast tomorrow.” Satoru elaborates. “Will you take me to that pancake place in the Lumine?”

“Sure,” Suguru says, “wherever you want.”

Satoru cuddles up under Suguru’s arm, clearly pleased. Suguru presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Also, fuck me good tonight.” Satoru whispers in his ear, definitely too low for anyone else to hear, but Suguru still feels his ears heat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, pinches Satoru’s arm.

The silence, bizarrely, is what reminds him that they’re not here alone. He turns to the table and finds four pairs of eyes staring at them. Him. Nanami coughs lightly.

“Come smoke with me.” Shoko says suddenly, standing up.

“Suguru, no,” Satoru complains, when Suguru starts to move. He tangles their fingers. “Then you’ll smell like smoke, I hate it.”

Suguru sits back down. He honestly hasn’t been smoking that much after Satoru made it clear how he hates the smell in Suguru’s hair, on his skin.

“Geto-san, you don’t smoke much lately,” Haibara says suddenly, “is that why?”

Satoru stares blankly at Haibara and then gasps, over-excited. “For me, Suguru?”

Suguru kisses his hand and doesn’t answer.

“Go smoke with Shoko.” Utahime says. “Satoru, come here, I’ve stolen your frose back for you.”

Satoru makes a little excited sound and kisses Suguru’s cheek, “You can shower, come back soon.” He says, shooing Suguru away, sliding into the seat next to Utahime and batting his lashes at her.

Suguru goes outside with Shoko. He takes the cigarette she offers him, makes sure to blow the smoke away from him. Shoko doesn’t say a word, just watches him with her arm tight across her stomach and careful analytical eyes. She stubs her cigarette out when it’s done and gets in his space so suddenly he takes a step back, his half-smoked cigarette held off to the side.

“Listen.” She says, pokes him in the chest. “I like you a lot, but I don’t think you fucking know what friends with benefits means.”

Suguru blinks at her. “What?” He manages.

“I’m not trying to be funny.” She says, even though Suguru didn’t think she was being funny at all.

“What are you talking about?” Suguru says.

She scoffs at him, stabs him with her finger again.

“Figure your fucking self out, okay? You’re going to hurt him, you know that right?”

“He— I–” Suguru can’t put all his thoughts into words.

“That’s your boyfriend in there, idiot.” Shoko says, no argument in her voice.

Having it thrown in his face unexpectedly gives him no place to hide. All the flimsy things he has been telling himself crumble. He winces and stares hard at the cigarette in his hand, watches it tremble. His hand is shaking, he realizes.

“Shoko—” He starts.

She softens, looking at him.

“Suguru, I don’t want to get involved in your business I just—” she sighs. “That’s my best fucking friend in there. If you make him cry, I am going to rearrange your guts. Not in a sexy way, in a literal way with a scalpel.”

“Okay.” He says sort of numbly.

“And you’re my friend too, you know?” She adds. “I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

“Satoru doesn’t feel the same way as me.” Suguru speaks before he thinks. His vision blurs at the admission. “I mean, I—”

“Shut the fuck up.” She says. “Talk to him about it. I’m going in. You finish your cigarette and come inside and be nice to him and figure yourself out tomorrow or something. I’ve said my piece.”

She goes inside and Suguru thinks about her saying she doesn’t want him to get hurt and thinks I’m already hurting. He was never going to get out of this without hurting. He knew that from the start, from the exact second Satoru’s pretty blue eyes met his.

He finishes his cigarette and watches the smoke disappear. He doesn’t know what the point of doing that is anymore. The smoke break is when he pretends that he still lives in his carefully constructed little box. It’s when he pretends he can contain things like want and need and love to carefully measured increments of time– and then he sees Satoru and forgets everything he was supposed to know.

When he goes back inside something must show on his face because Satoru looks at him with concern. Suguru tries to school his face into a normal expression. Satoru leans closer to him on the bench, touches him softly. Suguru finds himself with his arm around Satoru again, Satoru’s hand on his leg, thumb tracing small circles on his inner thigh.

It’s better than any dream Suguru has ever let himself have.

He knows what he feels. And he knows it’s something he’s avoided thinking about for a lot of reasons. The main one is that when he does think about it there’s only one thought that follows, quick and clear as day. I think I love him and then, when this ends my heart will break. And it will end. It will end and his heart will break.

His heart will break.

He only notices his leg is shaking when Satoru slides his hand to Suguru’s knee to still it.

“You okay?” He asks, quiet and concerned and Suguru– what does he do now? What does he do? “Suguru.” Satoru says, slightly sharp, like all the things Suguru is thinking are obvious and open on his face.

“I’m okay.” Suguru whispers. “Little headache is all.”

Satoru frowns and puts the back of his hand to Suguru’s cheek then his forehead, like he’s checking for fever.

“We’ll go home soon, okay?” Satoru speaks quietly.

Suguru tries to smile. Satoru’s fingertip ghosts over his cheekbone and Suguru’s heart is already breaking. It’s breaking, broken, he holds the pieces together in his hands and tries to breathe.

He goes home with Satoru and fucks him slow in bed, watching his face, the way it’s flushed, the way his eyes scrunch tight and then blink open, hazy and searching for Suguru. Satoru kisses his lips, sweat from his brow, the corner of his mouth where he has a dimple, a birthmark right by his ear. Satoru holds his face close and arches into him, comes gasping his name. Suguru comes soon after, Satoru’s name on his tongue. He thinks this is not how you fuck your friend with benefits. They’ve fucked like this before though, like they’re in love. They always fuck like this, even if it’s rough or hard, Satoru’s eyes always meet his and Suguru feels something inside him melt.

Satoru falls asleep in Suguru’s arms, his hand curled on Suguru’s chest. Suguru wants to keep him there. He wants to be kept here. He wants something that is so undefined and intangible and beyond what he ever expected or allowed himself to want. These are feelings that go past what he knows how to experience, examine, understand.

He presses a kiss to his fingertips, presses his fingertips to Satoru’s temple, the fine hair there. Satoru stirs, looks up at Suguru with half-asleep eyes.

“You okay?” He asks, voice rusty. His fingers flex gently on Suguru’s chest.

“I’m okay.” Suguru whispers back, a clear lie, “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.” Satoru still just looks at him, tired but determined to get a real answer. “I’m really okay.” Suguru repeats, tugs at Satoru’s hair. “Your hair’s getting long.”

“Mmm.” Satoru yawns, tiny and contained. “Makes me look more like Howl, huh?” He says it like it’s their secret, like it means something. It does mean something. Suguru feels bizarrely like crying. He feels like he needs a cigarette. “Your Howl,” Satoru mumbles and then something else that Suguru can’t make out. He falls back asleep, warm on Suguru’s chest.

Suguru stares at the ceiling, clenches his free fist so tight he feels his nails bite into his palm.

He needs a fucking cigarette.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he does nothing. He smiles and they eat pancakes and he kisses Satoru goodbye and tells himself nothing is different. He tells himself to pull his heart back and be careful with Satoru’s and everything is fine. Everything will be fine. Satoru might like him a little, clearly likes him enough to keep him around, but Suguru’s the one out of line here. He can control his heart. He learned how to do it young. It’s fine.

Maybe three days later this becomes glaringly, obviously, not true.

He’s had a shit day. Shit. His brain won’t stop spinning. He fucked shit up at work. He tweaked a muscle at the gym and the ache in his leg is pissing him off. His mom calls and the conversation is long and draining. He has to go see them relatively soon. His birthday is coming up and he always goes home, celebrates the New Year a little late and setsubun and his birthday all at once. It feels like a storm on the horizon. Each year the trip is more and more unbearable. It deposits him back in Tokyo with all their good intentions for his life weighing him down, all the ways he can’t and won’t measure up to what’s been decided about him by them.

He needs to talk to Satoru. End it with Satoru before he hurts him? The thought makes his stomach cramp. He doesn’t fucking know what to do. He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

He smokes half a cigarette and it does nothing. He stares at the food in his fridge and feels sick.

He wants Satoru. He just wants Satoru to give him a hug. The want aches like a physical wound. He knows what it means that he only wants Satoru. He looks at his cigarettes and doesn’t pick them up again, stares at his ceiling, unlocks his phone.

[suguru]
are you free

[satoru]
for u baby boy

[suguru]
can you come over
sorry

[satoru]
you okay?

[suguru]
yeah just
shit day

Satoru shows up not even half an hour later. Suguru suddenly has an armful of warm sweet-scented Satoru when he jumps into Suguru’s arms, his legs wrapped around Suguru’s waist.

“Baby,” he croons, squishing Suguru’s face with his hands, “you missed me?”

Suguru laughs, a little too tiredly. He buries his face in the crook of Satoru’s neck as he deposits him back on the ground.

“Not really,” he tries to joke and then, “Yeah.” He’s tired and he feels sick and doesn’t know how to express what he is feeling. “I did.”

“Hey.” Satoru’s hands are in his hair, pulling his face back up gently so they can meet eyes. “What can I do, what do you want?”

What he wants is for Satoru to hold him tight to his chest, and stroke his back and kiss his forehead and tell him everything is going to be okay. What he wants is to wake up in the same bed as Satoru tomorrow and then the next day and then the next.

“Maybe can you just hold me tight when we fuck,” he whispers, “just hold me close, okay? Don’t let me get too far away.” He means that in so many ways. Sometimes it’s like his body is floating away. Or his soul is floating away from his body.

Satoru hums and pulls him close, one hand rubbing slow circles on the small of Suguru’s back.

“You know,” Satoru whispers into Suguru’s ear, presses a kiss there that makes Suguru shiver but not with the type of want it usually does, “I can hold you close without us fucking.”

The sound Suguru makes is small and broken and he hates it. He hates it. Satoru doesn’t seem to hate it though. He pulls back and tilts Suguru’s face toward his and kisses him until Suguru starts to melt against him, whatever barrier he put up inside himself falling with Satoru’s touch.

Satoru holds him the entire night, pressed close and safe. He keeps one hand steady and warm on the small of Suguru’s back, the other hand scratching Suguru’s head, combing through his hair, rubbing his neck. Suguru falls asleep easy and sleeps deeply.

After Satoru leaves the next morning— a chaste kiss at the door and a press of lips to Suguru’s forehead— Suguru goes out on his balcony and smokes a cigarette. He goes to smoke another one, his whole body thrumming and painful, and stares at it for a moment blankly before he starts to cry. He throws his cigarettes away from him, squats down in the corner of his balcony, and cries so hard that it scares him.

He’s in love. He’s so in love. He never stood a chance, not from the first moment he met Satoru. And Satoru might— does?— like him, love him, too. Satoru might love him too.

Suguru panics.

He meets up with Yuki and Choso at their usual yakitori place.

“So you’re what? Breaking up with him because you like him?” Yuki asks and she sounds almost angry. “Love him?”

“We’re not dating.” Suguru repeats, which is a lie and everyone at the table knows it. Suguru was just the last one to figure it out. “I mean, even if I did end things, he’d be fine, he won’t care, right?”

“Sounds like he might care.” Choso says softly.

“He won’t– we’re just– it’s better for him if I—”

“Cut your shit.” Yuki says, cutting him off. She smacks the table a little, the way she does when she’s frustrated with him. He can’t look at her.

He can’t.

“We’re just supposed to be fucking.” He repeats miserably and looks up to meet Choso’s eyes. “He deserves—” He can’t finish. Yuki shakes her head and takes a huge gulp of her beer in the corner of Suguru’s vision. She taps an empty yakitori skewer on the table. “I don’t know what to do. He deserves so much. It’s not fair to him.” He whispers finally. “I’m not– enough.”

Suguru’s eyes hurt so bad. His head hurts so bad. His chest feels all empty and gross. He needs a cigarette.

He hasn’t really spoken to Satoru for almost three days. It feels like months. Satoru had texted asking if he was okay, Suguru had responded yeah sorry. Then Satoru had sent what’s wrong and, later, when Suguru still hadn’t answered, hey seriously you okay? The chain ends this morning with three question marks from Satoru and Suguru responding it’s my own shit, not yours. sorry, friends with benefits, right? putting too much on you and Satoru’s response to that– what the fuck, suguru.

Suguru didn’t know how to answer. He still doesn’t. It’s a good question. He had sent what he sent and regretted it. The words seemed cruel and stupid. They were. Are.

He feels sick.

“This isn’t fair to him.” Yuki says pointedly. She’s right. He knows she’s right. He’s fucking it up. He’s fucking everything up. He just doesn’t even know where to begin with being honest when he hasn’t been honest with himself for so many years it feels like his whole life. It’s maybe been his whole life.

His chest feels tight. He feels like he can’t breathe. Yuki and Choso let him pretend that he’s not starting to cry.

“You know,” Choso says after a moment of quiet, only the gentle tap tap tap of Yuki’s skewer, the noise of the other patrons. “I’ve always been impressed by how you’re able to figure out the right thing, Suguru. You analyze things quickly, know what the next move should be, the right answer. Like, for yourself, for someone else, at your work. You’re good at that. You always know what’s right, what would be fair.”

Suguru stares at him blankly.

“I think it surprises me,” Choso continues, “how rarely you choose that thing for yourself, Suguru. How rarely you’re fair to yourself.”

Suguru puts his face in his hands and sucks in a breath and then another.

“You’re allowed to be in love.” Choso says quietly. “And to be loved.”

Is he?

He’s fucked up. He’s fucked up so bad.

He texts Satoru to tell him sorry properly this time. Satoru doesn’t respond until a bit later, just says it’s fine. Suguru knows it’s not but doesn’t know what else to say. He asks how Satoru is. Satoru doesn’t respond for a while and then sends an emoji pulling a strange face. He doesn’t ask Suguru to come over. Suguru doesn’t ask if he can come over. The conversation is stilted in a way that Suguru is not used to, not with Satoru.

I’m sorry. He texts again.

yeah, Satoru says.

There’s glass shards under his skin. He was wrong. He needs to fix this. He has to. He wants to. He thinks of Choso saying he’s allowed to be loved. There’s only one person he wants to be loved by. He thinks of Satoru, the whisper of Suguru’s name in Satoru’s mouth, the way he exhales in sleep, the brush of his finger on Suguru’s, the cadence of his speech when he’s trying to amuse, being bratty, the soft tenor rasp of it when he’s being serious. Suguru doesn’t want it all to be just memories.

If he apologizes properly, sees Satoru again, and Satoru says no, says leave me alone, then Suguru will– he will. But he can’t let it end like this, fractured awkward text messages.

He keeps trying and Satoru texts him back out of nowhere, late one evening that week. He won’t say where he is, just that he’s out drinking. Suguru asks with who? and Satoru says what’s it to you. Suguru rubs his temple, the front of his forehead with a thumb, his cigarette lit and not helping anything. What are you drinking? he tries. What it’s to you!!! Satoru responds and then three stickers of a frog.

Suguru calls him.

He can hear sounds in the background, like Satoru is surrounded by people or maybe outside even though it’s too cold for that. Satoru gets cold too easily for that.

“Where are you?” Suguru asks gently. Satoru doesn’t answer for a little while and then scoffs at him.

Why?

“Satoru, I’m a douchebag, I’m sorry.” Suguru tries to make it clear that he knows this. That he is sorry, about everything, about all of it. He would go back and undo it if he could. He would undo it right from the start if Satoru wanted, so Satoru never has to know him. Suguru will remember for the both of them.

Why do you wanna know where I am? Satoru slurs a little, definitely has been drinking, you gonna come here and take care of me? Satoru sounds almost like he’s mocking.

“Yes.” Suguru answers immediately, already standing and walking toward his shoes. “If you want me to then yes.”

Why, Satoru says, it’s my shit, not yours, right?

The words are cruel, thrown back in Suguru’s face. They were cruel from the start. They were cruel when he sent them to Satoru and he knows it.

“I fucked up.” He says, slowly to make sure every word is clear. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t right. I fucked up and I don’t deserve it but please. Where are you, Satoru?”

Satoru sighs on the other end of the phone. There is a silence and then he hangs up.

Suguru is about to call back when Satoru sends a message.

[satoru]
it’s fine, suguru don’t worry ^^
we should fuck tomorrow btw it’s been aaaaageeeees

Suguru stares at his phone for a long moment. He feels vaguely ill. He calls Shoko. She’s pissed, he can tell instantly by the way she says hello when she picks up.

“Hey.” He tries.

Bitch. She responds.

Rightfully, Suguru thinks.

“I know I’m a fuck up.” He says, before she can say much else. “Do you know where Satoru is? He sounds messed up.”

She wavers but tells him. She adds if Satoru tells him to leave he’d better fucking go. He says he will. She says she’s calling Satoru in an hour anyway to make sure that if Suguru is still with him it’s because Satoru wants him to be. He thinks it’s fair if she doesn’t trust him right now. She gives him the address of a hotel. Satoru’s family is having some sort of event, which means it’s a work function and a family function all at once. Suguru winces.

He makes his way there, glances over his shoulder as he crosses the street, and a passing car’s headlights illuminate Satoru’s hair. He’s leaning on a guardrail by a different building, tilted back a little. He’s staring at the sky. Suguru wonders if he can see any stars in downtown Tokyo like this. He would like to take Satoru to his hometown. Show him the stars. Say that one, there, the way it hangs in the velvet blue, it reminds me of your eyes. Satoru would look at him horrified, tell him that was cheesy and terrible, flush soft pink anyway. Kiss him delicate, soft as a flower petal.

“Satoru.” Suguru calls as he jogs up to him.

Satoru blinks, like he’s coming back to himself. He looks at Suguru like he’s confused. He’s shivering slightly. His face looks sad in a way that Suguru has never seen it. There’s tears in the corners of his eyes, caught there, like Satoru’s been trying hard not to cry for so long that he can’t hold back any more. He stares at Suguru for a good long moment as Suguru comes to a halt in front of him.

“S’guru?” Satoru tilts his head as he speaks. “What...” he trails off and stands, wobbles slightly. He sits back down again. He stares up at Suguru and then laughs a strange little weird laugh, confused, slightly sick. “I’m drunk, huh?” He says to his hands, his feet, not to Suguru at all.

“Satoru.” Suguru says again. Satoru shivers. Suguru takes off his scarf and wraps it around Satoru’s neck. He doesn’t know how to explain all the things he feels. It’s not the time anyway. He was wrong. He can start from there. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Are you okay?”

Satoru buries his face in the scarf. He looks up at Suguru, looks down again. “Why are you here?” He asks after a moment, voice flat.

“I said I was coming.” Suguru kneels in front of Satoru so he can catch his eyes. “Shoko told me where you were. I can go if you want me to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have– I fucked up. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to leave you alone, you sounded–”

Satoru blinks at him and sways slightly.

Suguru lifts up just a little and tucks some hair behind Satoru’s ear.

“What can I do?” He asks softly, cupping Satoru’s jaw, stroking his cold cheek. “Do you want me to go?” Satoru tilts into his hand and looks at him with soft liquid eyes. “Do you want me to take you inside and then go? I can call a cab for you, ‘toru–”

“I want a kiss.” Satoru says, cuts him off. “I want you to kiss me.”

Suguru doesn’t even hesitate. He lifts all the way up and kisses Satoru. He’s been wanting to kiss him since their last kiss ended. He’s so fucked, his rules are trash, his cigarettes are useless, and he doesn’t care if it means he can kiss Satoru like this. If it means he can fix this.

When he pulls back Satoru sucks in a breath, loud and shaky, and blinks up at him.

“I— I didn’t—” He’s flushed pale pink but he’s shivering still, cold to Suguru’s touch. “We’re outside, Suguru.” He whispers. “You didn’t even look, you didn’t— I didn’t think you would.”

Suguru realizes with a start that he didn’t look around, didn’t check to see if someone was there, looking at them, watching them. He should have. People from Satoru’s work, his family, are here. Suguru knows it’s not wise to kiss a man outside in Omotesando but— Satoru said he needed a kiss. How could Suguru not? How could he do anything but kiss Satoru?

“Sorry.” He says. “I wanted to kiss you.” He says and means you’ve changed me, means I don’t know how to go back, means I don’t think I want to.

Satoru shakes his head no, whispers, “I liked it,” so soft.

Suguru pulls Satoru to standing and then into a hug. Satoru is stiff in his arms. He relaxes incrementally. Suguru’s heart melts with it. Suguru feels Satoru’s hands lift, clutch in Suguru’s jacket.

“Can you take me home now, Suguru?” Satoru whispers.

Suguru does. He takes Satoru home to his apartment because it’s closer. He holds him while he sobers up on the couch, Satoru with his head pressed to Suguru’s chest because he said he wanted to hear his heartbeat. Satoru sips water when Suguru offers it and doesn’t say much of anything, which is strange in and of itself, Satoru silent. Shoko calls. Suguru goes out on the balcony to give Satoru privacy, listens to the cadence of Satoru’s voice even though he can’t hear the words.

Satoru knocks softly on the sliding door to tell him that he can come back in.

“Let’s clean up.” Suguru says, runs his hand through Satoru’s hair, the prickle of his undercut. Satoru nods, still quiet. Satoru lets Suguru lead him to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and undresses as Suguru sets the tub to fill. Then, with softly hesitant hands, he undresses Suguru too. He tugs Suguru into the shower room with him, presses up against him, skin chilled.

“Warm me up.” He says.

Suguru turns the shower up hot enough it almost hurts. He wraps his arms around Satoru and holds him under the spray. Satoru looks like he’s waiting to be kissed so Suguru gives him a soft kiss and then holds him close again. He washes Satoru’s hair, Satoru leaning into the touch. He lets Satoru wash his own body. He puts him in the bath and wraps a towel around his own waist, sits on the bathstool at the edge of the tub. He watches Satoru stare at the ceiling.

“My family’s been really on my case.” Satoru says after a moment, not looking at him. “About taking over the company and needing to prepare for that, about finding a woman to marry. My dad said to do what I need to on the side for my ‘whims’.” He blinks hard. “Fucked up.”

Suguru nods.

“I just— we had an event and they broke sake barrels and I usually take a sip and move on, but I was so frustrated and tired of everything and I just didn’t, you know? I was just– so fucking tired of thinking.”

“I get that.” Suguru is having trouble maintaining the volume of his voice. He can’t get it quite above a whisper. He’s afraid he’ll spook Satoru, spook himself. He’s afraid he’ll wake himself from this something like a dream, this trust Satoru has placed in him even after Suguru has hurt him, and he’ll be alone with a text from Satoru that says never talk to me again. He would deserve it.

“I was upset about all of that,” Satoru says and his eyes drift to Suguru, “and because of you. I was upset about you.”

Suguru touches the water and watches it ripple.

“Yeah.” He says.

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” Satoru whispers. Suguru can’t look at him, “And then you did.”

Suguru wishes he could say something that’s not an excuse.

“If you hate me it’s okay.” He tells Satoru. He doesn’t know how to survive that, how to weather Satoru’s hatred, but he’ll figure it out.

“I don’t hate you,” Satoru says, “but you were mean.”

“Yeah.” Suguru agrees.

“Not the sexy kind of mean.” Satoru clarifies.

“I know.” Suguru says. “I’m a fuckup.”

“You’re not though.” Satoru pins him with a look that’s no longer hazy with alcohol. “So why do you keep fucking up, Suguru?”

Suguru stares at the water and feels Satoru’s eyes on him.

“I don’t know what to do about the way you make me feel.” He finally whispers. “And then I get scared and then I fuck up.”

“The way I make you feel?” Satoru asks.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Suguru repeats.

“How do I make you feel?” Satoru leans forward, water sloshing around his body. Suguru stares at the water. It’s cloudy with bath salts. “How.” Satoru says. “Tell me.”

Suguru glances up and Satoru is staring at him with eyes that say last chance. If he doesn’t answer he wonders if Satoru will leave. Maybe. Most likely.

“Feel like when I was little and watched Howl for the first time.” Suguru barely hears his own voice. “Like I’m safe.” His heart is thudding in his ears. “I’m sorry.” His voice breaks. He puts his forehead on the edge of the tub. “Sorry.”

“Suguru.” Satoru says. He leans forward and lifts Suguru’s face up. He looks into Suguru’s eyes for a long time, scanning like there is something he’s trying to confirm. Suguru is about to say something when Satoru leans forward and kisses him. He tastes like salt and Suguru’s toothpaste. Suguru takes a breath, hitched and confused. Satoru pulls back. “Go put on sweats or something, okay? Wait for me on the couch.” Satoru strokes his cheekbones as he speaks.

Suguru stands up shakily and goes. He dries his hair and puts on his sweats and sits on the couch and closes his eyes. He listens to Satoru move in the bathroom, go into the bedroom. The soft thump of dresser drawers. He flexes his hands on his knees. He opens his eyes when Satoru climbs into his lap, wearing one of Suguru’s shirts, Suguru’s boxers. He closes them again when Satoru kisses him, slow and searching, like he’s confirming whatever it was that he saw before.

“Let me take care of you?” Satoru asks and that’s backwards, Suguru should be taking care of him. “Let me.” Satoru repeats, like he can see the conflict written on Suguru’s face. He probably can.

“Whatever you want.” Suguru says. “Whatever—” Suguru wants to touch him but he’s afraid to touch, just barely got this back, can’t lose it again.

“I want to take care of you.” Satoru says simply and then kisses him. Suguru nods into it. Whispers okay into Satoru’s mouth. He leans back pliant as Satoru kisses down his chest, bites, licks, his fingers tracing where his mouth has been.

Satoru lifts back up and kisses him again, steady and slow. Suguru opens his mouth to him. He lets Satoru control the kiss, take what he wants. Needs. His hands waver by Suguru’s hip. He drops them. Lifts them again.

“Touch me.” Satoru commands. Suguru does. Instantly. Squeezes Satoru’s hips, then his waist, strokes with his thumbs. Satoru hums approvingly.

They kiss for so long Suguru loses track of everything but Satoru’s mouth against his. He tries to memorize it so that even if, or when, he loses this he’ll still know what it feels like. He feels like he could trace the curve of Satoru’s smile in the dark, in his sleep. When Satoru pulls back Suguru lifts a hand to thumb at the corner of his mouth, run light fingers over his cheekbone.

Satoru smiles at him gently, leans in and kisses him again.

“You’re so good to me.” Satoru whispers into his mouth. It makes Suguru squirm on the couch, his fingers dig into Satoru’s waist. He’s not. “Look at me.” Satoru says and Suguru does. “Hi,” Satoru whispers, kissing his forehead, the corner of his eye. “You’re good.” His voice sounds like safety.

Satoru taps two fingers on Suguru’s lower lip. When Suguru opens his mouth, Satoru slides his fingers in, lets Suguru get them wet, watches with dark eyes. He trails his fingers down Suguru’s chest and under his waistband. Suguru had vaguely noticed he was hard but didn’t fully realize how hard until Satoru touches him. Suguru full body jolts at the contact. Satoru shushes him, hand on his chest, tongue in his mouth. He plays with the head of Suguru’s cock, nothing more. Suguru groans, shifts, lifts his hips up. Satoru stops moving his hand, smile biting against Suguru’s mouth.

“Stay.” He whispers, pushes at Suguru’s chest.

Suguru stills. It’s a strange sort of trust Suguru has in Satoru that giving away power feels like gaining it. Maybe that’s what trust really is.

Satoru kisses his jawbone, lifts up and tugs at his piercing with teeth, keeps working the head of Suguru’s cock, the other hand trailing up under his own shirt. Suguru can tell Satoru’s playing with his nipples. Suguru wants to touch too. He’s not sure he’s allowed. He makes a little questioning sound and slides his hand higher under Satoru’s shirt, toward where Satoru’s hand is. “Yeah, touch me, it feels good.” Satoru shifts in his lap as Suguru pinches, twists softly.

Satoru takes his hand off Suguru’s dick. Suguru groans at the sudden lack of contact but Satoru just smiles, spits in his palm, then reaches down and starts jerking him off the way he knows Suguru likes, tight and heavy, squeezing at the top of each stroke. Suguru feels precum well at the tip of his dick. He’s so hard. It feels so good. It feels so good.

“Almost—” He chokes out, surprised to find himself on the edge.

“Yeah? Gonna come?” Satoru whispers. Suguru nods frantically and Satoru– stops, lets go of him completely, and sits back.

“‘toru–” Suguru gasps out, a low groan in his chest, confused and aching.

“You’re okay.” Satoru shushes him. “It’s okay.” He slides down off the couch, lifts Suguru’s hips up to get his sweats off all the way, and then licks his way up Suguru’s cock before sliding it into his mouth, going almost down to the base in one motion. Suguru feels himself hit the back of Satoru’s throat. Satoru swallows around him, pulls back.

“Oh god.” Suguru chokes out, hips jerking, reaching a hand out to cup Satoru’s face. Satoru rubs his thumb over the crown of Suguru’s dick, mixing spit and precome.

“You like to come in my mouth,” Satoru says as he jerks Suguru off with a steady hand, “I want you to. You know what I keep thinking about?” Satoru sinks down all the way to the base of Suguru’s dick, gags around him but stays there with Suguru buried in his throat. He pulls off messily, spit trickling down his chin. Satoru kisses the head of Suguru's dick and looks up at him, teary eyed. His voice is raspy when he speaks, “I keep thinking how I want you to come inside me, Suguru. Fuck me raw. I’ve never done that with anyone but I want it with you, fuck I want that-” Suguru can’t think through his arousal, tries to say Satoru’s name but his voice breaks and all that comes out is a low moan. “It gets me fucked up just thinking about it,” Satoru continues easily, “how hot it would be. I want you to come inside me and then fuck me again, make it drip out, be all full of you.” Satoru tilts his head while he speaks, hand moving steadily. “Would you like that?”

Suguru can’t figure out how to respond. He can’t speak. His dick pulses, leaks. Satoru’s head is leaned against his thigh and his hand is working Suguru’s cock just right, squeezing almost painfully.

“Would you?” Satoru teases.

“Yeah—” Suguru manages to gasp out.

Satoru smiles and lifts his head, sticks his tongue out. He puts the tip of Suguru’s dick on it, in his open mouth, and jerks him off hard and fast without looking away. Suguru comes so hard his vision blacks out a little on the edges. He gasps and struggles to keep his eyes open, watch Satoru swallow, wipe the corner of his mouth with his thumb, lick it clean.

“You sound pretty.” Satoru says. Suguru didn’t know he was making sounds. He squeezes his hand in Satoru’s hair. Satoru bites his thigh, keeps moving his hand slowly, watching how Suguru twitches under him. He eventually relents and runs his fingers over Suguru’s abs, the juncture of his hip, the base of his cock. “You came a lot.” He says, almost idly. “And you’re still so hard.” He looks up at Suguru like he expects Suguru to have something to say for himself.

Suguru can’t find words still. His tongue is too heavy in his mouth. He looks at Satoru helplessly.

“You’re so gone right now,” Satoru says, sounding amused and fond and like every wet dream Suguru has ever had. “That’s how I feel when you fuck me the way you do, Suguru. It’s good, right? Feel good?”

“You make me feel good.” Suguru puts the words in order in his head first before he says them, floating gently. Satoru’s hand on his stomach grounds him.

“You make me feel good.” Satoru says and then Suguru has an armful of Satoru as he climbs into Suguru’s lap again. Satoru strips off his t-shirt and winds his arms around Suguru’s neck as they kiss. Suguru slides hands into Satoru’s hair, traces down his back and ribs. He noses into Satoru’s neck to kiss, bite gently.

“More,” Satoru gasps. “Harder.”

So Suguru does. He marks Satoru up, holding Satoru tight to him, Satoru’s nails digging into his shoulders. He leaves marks where Satoru directs his head, tilts for him to get better access. Satoru’s breath hitches and he rocks his hips forward. Satoru manages to stand up, get his boxers off, and return to Suguru’s lap without breaking the kiss. He takes one of Suguru’s hands and guides it down between his legs.

Satoru’s hard and hot in his hand, wet with precum, and the slide is easy. Satoru moves his hips, fucks up into Suguru’s fist, biting at his lips as he does. He starts making those little hitched sounds that Suguru loves when Suguru tightens his grip.

“Feels good?” He asks. He wants it to feel good. “Want to take care of you.”

“You do.” Satoru says. Suguru makes a sound of discontent, disagreement, knows he doesn’t, didn’t. “You do, look, I’ll show you—” Satoru says, stopping the movement of his hips, “do it how I like best. Make me come.” He looks Suguru dead in the eyes like it’s a challenge. A test. “Show me, get me off how I like it.”

Suguru can do that. He knows how Satoru likes it, has learned, has cataloged the best ways to make Satoru come hard, go dreamy-eyed and wanting. He pools spit in his mouth, tilts forward so it drips onto his hand, Satoru’s dick. There’s no lube nearby and Satoru likes it wet. He spits in his other hand. He works Satoru with short steady strokes, tight, gets the palm of his other hand on the head of Satoru’s cock and squeezes, massages it with his palm. He kisses Satoru’s chest, then licks his nipple, plays with it with his tongue.

“Fuck.” Satoru says on an exhale. He tugs Suguru’s face to his and bites Suguru’s lip hard, licks it. “Yeah, like that, just like that– fuck, you really do know, huh?”

Suguru nods, thumbs at the slit of Satoru’s dick, twists his wrist. He leans forward to softly bite a hickey he already left and Satoru groans.

“Yeah, like that, make me come.” Satoru sounds so heated, so close. It’s driving Suguru crazy. “Make me come, Suguru. God, I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me, but I didn’t clean up for that, maybe later you can fuck my thighs, yeah? Shit, I want that, do you want that–”

“Fuck—” Suguru chokes out. As they kiss Satoru reaches for him and starts to jerk him off. Tentative at first but when Suguru kicks his hips up a little, surprised by how much he wants, Satoru tightens his grip. Suguru is a little oversensitive but it feels good. He pants into Satoru’s mouth, leans up for another bruising kiss. Satoru kisses him and kisses him, noses into his neck and bites at his collarbones.

“You’ve ruined anyone else for me, you know that, Suguru? Or me for anyone else—” Satoru sighs, arching his back. He’s working Suguru’s dick while he says it, thumbing the head. “Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.” Satoru’s voice is almost calm except for the way the words break slightly as he jerks against Suguru. Suguru chokes, he’s floating. “You have to take responsibility, you know? For what you’ve done to me.” Satoru falls forward as he says this, says it right into Suguru’s ear, mouth hot like a brand. “I don’t want anything, anyone, but you, Suguru. What are you going to do about that, hm? You have to take care of me. You don’t get a choice anymore.”

It’s too much in the best way possible.

Suguru comes again, almost painfully, sooner than he would have thought he could have.

Satoru stills and looks down at Suguru’s stomach, his chest, his dick that’s still jerking weakly in Satoru’s hand.

“Oh fuck,” Satoru breathes, “fuck, did that make you come? Oh fuck, fuck, Suguru–”

Suguru tries to catch his breath, starts to move his hand on Satoru again, trying to pull him closer by a hand on the hip. He gets Satoru to rut into the mess on his stomach. Satoru tilts his head back and the long line of his neck is so inviting. Suguru lifts up and kisses, bites, watches the skin turn petal pink and red under his mouth. Satoru makes an approving sound, tilts his head back down and blinks open his eyes.

“You’re so perfect.” Suguru can’t help but tell him. “You’re everything, you’re— Satoru, I—”

Satoru threads his clean hand into Suguru’s hair, leans forward and presses their foreheads together. Suguru never wants him farther away than this. He strokes him hard, fast, can tell Satoru is close by the way his body is shivering.

“Suguru–” Satoru breathes Suguru’s name like a prayer as he comes hot and wet across Suguru’s stomach. He pants and kisses Suguru’s neck as his heartbeat slows, his hips grinding slowly, fucking up gently into Suguru’s loose grip. When Satoru sits back he runs a finger through the mess, pushes the finger into Suguru’s mouth for him to clean and then kisses him, hard and deep, controlling.

“Jesus.” Suguru whispers. “Fuck.”

Satoru laughs against his mouth breathlessly.

“I still want you to fuck my thighs.” He says, rolling his hips down, mouth falling open in a gentle ah while Suguru hisses from oversensitivity.

“I think I need a minute.”

Satoru laughs, that bright clear laugh that Suguru has missed, that makes his stomach feel warm, that makes him feel so safe it hurts.

Satoru wriggles closer, reaching for his discarded t-shirt to wipe Suguru off. Suguru fits his hands around Satoru’s waist, slides them up to thumb at the bottom of his ribcage, lifts up to bite gently at Satoru’s nipple. Satoru exhales and tugs at Suguru’s hair.

“How many minutes do you need?”

Suguru stands up on shaky legs and takes Satoru to bed. He works him over, gets his mouth on him, gets him close and then takes him back, does it again and then again, until Satoru is soft and pliant and begging, shivering when Suguru tells him that he’s good.

Suguru fucks his thighs, jerks him off, everything wet with lube, slick with sweat. Satoru digs his nails into Suguru’s thighs, his ass, wraps his fingers around Suguru’s wrist as Suguru mouths at his neck.

“You’re perfect,” Suguru tells him, “look at you, Satoru. You’re so perfect.”

Satoru twists his head for a kiss and Suguru gives it to him as best he can, the angle wrong, the kiss messy and wet, half teeth, spit trailing out the corner of Satoru’s mouth. He tugs Satoru closer, thrusts forward a little harder, Satoru’s thighs clenched together.

“I like you.” Suguru whispers into Satoru’s undercut, the shell of his ear. Satoru’s hips jerk up hard as he comes. Suguru follows soon after.

“We need to change the sheets.” Satoru slurs, rolling over and wriggling his arms and legs around Suguru. His skin is sticky. Suguru doesn’t care. He nods his agreement and holds him.

Suguru gets Satoru to stand and go wash up and manages to change the sheets so they’re dry. He finds Satoru in the bathroom sleepily cleaning himself off. He helps, cleans himself off, then carries Satoru back to bed because he can, because he wants to, because it makes Satoru laugh, Satoru strong enough to carry Suguru too if he wanted.

He falls asleep holding Satoru and wakes up holding him still. He brushes Satoru’s hair back from his forehead, watches his eyelids flutter in half-sleep.

Suguru told himself he wasn’t allowed to have something like this. Even if he had tried, he never would have been able to imagine something this good. He kisses Satoru's forehead. Satoru stirs, blinks open eyes that are slightly red and swollen.

“Good morning,” he mumbles. “If you ever ice me out again I’ll kill you.”

Suguru snorts. “I would want you to. It’s okay if you’re mad at me, I deserve it.”

“I was.” Satoru says through a yawn. “But I’m also an amazingly forgiving person. Magnanimous, even. That was your last chance though so be good and obedient like I know you can be, baby.”

“I’m not a dog.” Suguru mumbles after a second, doesn’t let go of Satoru, relishes in the feeling of his sleep warmed skin.

“Woof woof.” Satoru stretches languidly in his arms. “I’ll be a dog for you.”

Suguru looks at him, tangled in his sheets, flashes of bare skin, bruises from Suguru’s mouth.

“I hate that that kinda turned me on.” He tells Satoru.

“Which part?” Satoru wriggles eyebrows at him. “Go make me coffee.”

Suguru rolls his eyes but gets up.

“Good boy.” Satoru shouts after him. Suguru flips him off.

He gets out the sugar and cream he keeps in his house now for Satoru. There are so many things he keeps in his house now for Satoru. Whole spaces dedicated to him, just like the spaces in Suguru’s heart. The danger he thought he felt, that was he was worried about his whole life, was misplaced. The hole he thought he would fall into, that he felt like he’d been edging around his whole life while he tried to stay steady on his feet, wasn’t what he thought at all. He was living with that fear because it was comfortable. He hated it but he knew what it was. There was no uncertainty. But he was wrong. What he thought was a hole inside of himself never was. It wasn’t an endless pit like he always thought; he’s not fallen and now stuck trying to climb out, alone and broken. He fell through the clouds and he’s in a field of flowers and there are stars falling and someone is taking his hand and saying you could be safe, you know. If you wanted.

He kisses Satoru’s forehead again as he hands him his mug.

Satoru looks up at him sleepily. “Thank you.” He says and then holds Suguru’s gaze. “Look, people— a person— has done that to me before,” his eyes are vulnerable in the morning light, “decided I’m too much and it’s easier to just— go. Ghost me. Tell me I’m cute and all but they can’t deal with it, me.”

Suguru sits on the edge of the bed and listens.

“I didn’t think you would do that but then you weren’t talking to me and I was so confused. And hurt. I know I can be a lot—”

“You’re not a lot— not too much.” Suguru whispers fiercely, staring at his own coffee. “Satoru, you’re—” He does not have a word that adequately describes all that Satoru is.

“I don’t want to have a whole big thing about it. I’m not traumatized or something, it's just– if you do that again,” Satoru’s voice is calm, “I will not forgive you. I’m trusting you here.”

Suguru leans forward and kisses Satoru softly, a brush of lips. He’s said sorry and he doesn’t think saying it again would make a difference; it doesn’t change what he did. Satoru knows he’s sorry. He wants to say you can trust me but he thinks that’s a thing you prove, not say.

“You are not too much.” Suguru repeats. “Satoru, you are— you make my life brighter.” He kisses Satoru again, chastely, close-mouthed, but Satoru deepens the kiss. He tastes like cream and sugar.

Suguru exhales slowly when their mouths part. Breathes with Satoru for a minute. Satoru squeezes his wrist.

“You’re gonna be late.” Satoru tells him, gives him a wet messy kiss, and then flops back on his pillows. “I don’t have to go in until 10 today. Nepo-baby privileges, suck it loser.”

“I hope your train is crowded.” Suguru tells him, standing up. “I hope your tie gets stuck in the train doors and you miss your stop.”

Satoru cackles, titling his head back.

He is so beautiful.

Suguru only wants this. He’s not sure he deserves it, but it’s all he wants. He kisses Satoru goodbye before he leaves, Satoru standing by the door in one of Suguru’s shirts, rubbing at his eyes, still clutching his coffee like a lifeline.

Satoru is not there when Suguru gets home from work but he’s left a post-it note that says i’ll see you later with a shooting star and a heart drawn on it. Suguru sends Satoru a text asking what time he’s coming home.

Suguru needs to make it right. Be right. Satoru deserves better than him skating by. He wants to be a person Satoru can be proud to be with. He wants to be a person he can be proud of.

He puts the post it note from Satoru with the other and shrugs on his jacket to go pick up groceries for dinner.

[satoru]
do u really have to leave for ur hometown
it’s ur BIRTHDAY tomorrow
and setsubun
was gonna choke on ur ehomaki

[suguru]
yes
also inappropriate

[satoru]
do u not think i could make ehomaki consumption erotic

[suguru]
as a matter of course
and to prove points
you make most things erotic

[satoru]
yeah baby
come get this ehomaki before u leave

[suguru]
you are incorrigible

[satoru]
come onnnnnn
youre gonna be gone for like a week
let me choke on u one more time before then
wanna feel u for days
want my voice to still be fucked up when you get back

[suguru]
satoru
my shinkansen is in like
two hours

[satoru]
that’s not a no
besides ur easy when its me
ill get u off before then, u wont miss ur train
come on i bet ur getting hard thinking about it
me on my knees

[suguru]
satoru
fuck
i gotta leave in like thirty minutes

[satoru]
good news
im outside ur door

Suguru blinks at his phone and then drops it on the bed. Satoru is outside his door, lounging against the wall opposite Suguru’s apartment.

“I know the passcode, but this felt hotter.” Satoru says.

Suguru grabs him by the collar and kisses him, barely gets the door closed behind them as they stumble inside and Satoru falls to his knees.

Suguru’s phone buzzes three times in quick succession as he waits to board the shinkansen and he glances at it to see a message from Satoru that says open in private and then a video message and then really— open in private or ur gonna be pissed. His skin itches. He glances at his watch and heads to a restroom, earbud in. He double checks the lock on the door of the stall, that his earbud is connected, and opens the video.

It’s short, maybe ten seconds, but it’s more than effective. Satoru is in Suguru’s bed, shirt off. It’s not immediately clear what he’s doing until it’s very clear. His face is flushed, eyes fluttering shut. He tilts the camera down and Suguru feels his dick twitch in his jeans, watches as Satoru jerks himself off, clearly close, the head of his cock red and weeping. The sound of his hand moving is slick and dirty and Suguru wants to be there, wants to be the one touching him. Suguru, Satoru moans into his ear, tinny through the earbud, Suguru, fuck, Suguru, and then he comes, dick jerking, hips kicking up, his voice cracking on Suguru’s name. The camera goes dark with the sheets for a few seconds when he drops the phone, and then reflects Satoru’s satisfied smiling face before he winks and the video ends. Suguru has to take three very deep breaths. He adjusts himself in his pants.

[suguru]
fuck

Satoru sends a cheeky little selfie in response, his hair all mussed. It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else what he’s just done, but Suguru knows that face, that little satisfied smirk, that flush. He saves the picture.

[suguru]
you drive me crazy
the way you say my name gets me fucked up satoru
you get me really fucked up

[satoru]
yeah?

[suguru]
yeah
i’ll be back soon
i’ll show you how much i liked it

[satoru]
show me right now?

[suguru]
im in the train station bathroom
i’ll—
fuck
my train

When he’s safely on the shinkansen he checks his phone again.

[satoru]
lame

[suguru]
i wish i was with you right now

[satoru]
to fuck me?

[suguru]
that too but
i just wish i was with you right now

Suguru stares at his phone, clutches it tightly as he watches Satoru type.

[satoru]
me too

Suguru watches Tokyo and then the surrounding cities and then the countryside pass him by. He gathers his things, catches a taxi. The streets are familiar and not familiar all at once.

His parents are overbearing. He tries his best with them, escapes to his childhood room that night and trails his fingers over his things that have been left there. That he left here. There are other things that he should leave here too, he thinks.

His phone buzzes.

[satoru]
happy birthday, suguru

Suguru glances at the time and realizes the clock has ticked over, it’s midnight. It’s his birthday.

[suguru]
wish i was with you instead

[satoru]
u and me both, sexy man

Suguru smiles, texts Satoru a picture of his room, awards he got in school, a picture of him at seven in his hakama. They go back and forth easily, the way it always is, when it’s Satoru. Eventually he texts Satoru goodnight and falls asleep, phone by his pillow, thinking to himself that he wants to talk to Satoru about everything inside his head, about how Satoru has ruined him for anyone else too, about how all he wants is Satoru— Satoru sleepy in the mornings and quiet when he’s frustrated and loud and laughing and perfectly perfectly Satoru.

It’s all he wants.

The next day is more difficult. His mom starts off early about omiai, marriage, about how it’s time now that he’s older, that he can’t keep waiting, that he only has a few years until he’s thirty and, yes, he’s a man so it’s okay that he’s not married yet but doesn’t he want to be? He needs to be thinking about it, she says. He should come with her tomorrow to meet the person who knows the matchmaker so she can tell Suguru how good and successful it was for her daughter, what a good match they found for her.

Suguru takes a breath and squares his shoulders.

“Mom, that’s not happening.”

There is a long pause.

“Why not?” She says finally.

“I think you know why.” He says, because he knows that she does. She looks at him and doesn’t say anything. Suguru is going to leave it at that, but then he thinks he doesn’t say it nearly ever and he should. He’s not ashamed of who he is or that he loves someone as bright and unashamed and beautiful as Satoru. This feeling that he’s not allowed, that he can’t love and be loved, that he has to live tightly constrained– this is a thing that he should leave here, in his childhood home. He should leave his cigarette breaks and a carefully packaged future he does not want. He wants to be fair to himself. He wants to be fair to Satoru. He’s allowed to be free. He takes Satoru’s hand in his mind, moving castle behind them, the world ahead. “I’m gay, mom.”

She scoffs.

He doesn’t back down, just looks at her, teacup hot in his hands.

“You grew out of that, Suguru.” She responds after a few moments. “Really, at your age? Don’t say things like that—”

“At every age, mom.” He cuts her off.

“We’ll talk about the omiai later.” She sighs.

“We won’t.” He tells her.

He doesn’t intend to. That afternoon though they have unexpected guests and one of them is a woman a few years younger than him, earnest and gentle-looking. She smiles very shyly at him, murmurs about wanting to live in Tokyo. He feels uneasy. She offers him snacks that she has made. His mother and her mother whisper— and then leave them alone to ‘get to know each other’. He feels instantly instantly wrong and instantly like he knows what this is, what his mom expects from him. His blood boils. He fixes a smile to his face. He is unfailingly polite to her. She is very sweet and it’s not her fault. He digs his nails into the palm of his hand. After she and her mother leave, he is not unfailingly polite to his mother. That seems to startle her more than anything. Suguru has always been polite. He has always listened and obeyed and been a good son, exactly how she wants him to be.

“Do not ever do that again.” He takes a deep breath. “Mom, why would you do that?”

“You’re not gay.” She says. “Suguru, just give her a chance you’ll learn to–”

“That’s not how that works.” He rubs his temples. He wants to go home. “Mom, I am gay. And I have someone I—”

“Let’s eat dinner.” She says and ignores him, and doesn't take him up on any more conversation about it. It’s infuriating and frustrating and heartbreaking, more than he wants to admit.

After dinner he walks to the park down the street, quick steps, heart pounding. He calls Satoru, who picks up faster than Suguru was expecting.

“This is a shit way to spend my birthday.” Suguru says without preamble. He’s gratified to hear Satoru’s laugh. He pushes himself off the ground with his toes, the swingset groaning a little under his weight. He’s bundled up but it’s still cold. He shivers, watches his breath in the air.

Wish I was there, I’d show you a good birthday. Satoru says and it sounds teasing and dirty but mostly wistful, like he really wishes he was there.

“What would you do if you were here?” Suguru asks, clears his throat, tips back on the swing and stares at the much too clear sky. It’s cold. He should go in. He doesn’t.

Hmm, Satoru says. Suguru hears him moving around, imagines him at home. He hears the clink of a glass. Satoru is probably drinking something too sweet for how late it is. It’s your birthday sweetheart, what would you want me to do? Satoru’s voice is gently teasing.

Satoru had said I don’t have to fuck you to hold you close, and Suguru craves that, the quiet intimacy. The way it feels when it’s morning and Satoru is drinking coffee and tilts his head onto Suguru’s shoulder. The way it feels when Satoru’s hand brushes against his when they’re watching a movie. The way it feels right before they lean in to kiss, that soft suspended moment where it feels like their heartbeats match up. It hits him hard. He stares at the dirt, the tip of his shoe.

Suguru? Satoru says after a moment; Suguru has been too quiet.

“I don’t know,” Suguru says finally because he can’t say all that. Not like this. “I think I just want to see you.”

Satoru is quiet for a few moments, a gentle sort of silence and then he speaks.

I would like to see you too.

Suguru hums.

“My mom told a friend’s daughter I was looking to get married and she came over and it was so— she was so earnest about it, I think my mom really talked it, me, whatever, up.” He wasn’t planning to say all this but once he starts he can’t stop. He’s frustrated. He wants Satoru to know. He wants Satoru to tell him it’s okay. “I feel like I was supposed to bring her back to Tokyo with me, like it was already decided. I didn’t want to hurt her or be rude but now I just feel—“ he tries to take a breath. “I feel gross.” He says.

It’s a childish word, but that’s how he feels right now– sick to his stomach and childish and angry about the whole thing. He wants to stomp his feet. He wants to go home and have Satoru be waiting for him.

I’m sorry. Satoru says and sounds it too.

Suguru blinks back the wetness in his eyes. “So what would you do if I was there?” He says. “For my birthday, tell me.”

Satoru, always, meets him where he is, a teasing tone returning to his voice.

Guess you’ll have to come home and find out.

“Give me a hint.”

Kiss you. Satoru says after a little silence, the way you really like. Press you into my pillows and kiss you and kiss you and not touch you anywhere else, just kiss you until you’re dizzy and aching. That’s what I would do, Suguru. Make you feel loved.

Suguru’s breath catches hard in his throat.

“Make me feel loved, huh?” He says and tries to sound cocky, tries to make it sound like a joke. It doesn’t.

Yeah. Satoru replies. Come home and let me show you, Suguru.

Suguru wants to say you always do. He thinks he already knows what it feels like to be loved by Satoru. It’s the little things and the big ones. Satoru finds restaurants that he thinks Suguru will like, Satoru is careful about how they touch in public so Suguru doesn’t feel uncomfortable, Satoru watches him tender and careful, notes things about him, knows how to make him smile even when he doesn’t want to. Satoru knows how to challenge him, how to make him laugh, how to make him fight, eyes sparkling.

He wants Satoru to feel loved by him too. He hopes he does. He hopes he can make it clear. Make Satoru feel loved without worry.

“Tomorrow.” Suguru says, even though he’s supposed to spend three more days here. “Can I come home tomorrow?” He’s thinking of Satoru’s apartment when he says it and a strange little sound falls out of his mouth at the end of the sentence.

What’s in it for me? Satoru teases, sing-song.

“I can kiss you back.” Suguru says, soft as he can. Means I can love you back. I want to.

There is a long, lilting silence.

I would like that. Satoru responds quietly. Get some rest, Suguru.

When Satoru hangs up Suguru stares at the sky for a few more minutes and then breathes in, clear cool air all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

Suguru catches an early morning train the next day. He gets a text from Satoru at barely past nine, asking where he is and what he’s doing and isn’t he in Tokyo yet. Suguru gives him an ETA, tells him that he’s watching Howl on his phone. Satoru says come over here and I’ll move your castle and Suguru laughs, which he didn’t expect to do at this exact moment.

He and Satoru need to talk about a lot of things, but Suguru just needs him right now. All his irreverence and strength and intelligence and candor. All of him, all inside and out.

When he goes over Satoru opens the door wearing bunny ears and sheer thigh highs with bows and a long hoodie that brushes the tops of his socks. He shrugs.

“I didn’t have a better Howl cosplay.”

“This is not even remotely right.” Suguru manages to get out. “Fuck,” he drops his coat, kicks off his shoes. “Completely wrong.” He whispers.

“It’s cute though, right?” Satoru wriggles his eyebrows.

“It’s something.” Suguru says, pulling him close by the waist.

“Something?” Satoru pouts into the kiss.

“Hot.” Suguru confirms, slides his hands under Satoru’s sweatshirt to the small of his back. He touches silk, a fluff of a rabbit tail. “Jesus,” he whispers, tugs at the sweatshirt, “why do you have this on?”

“So you can take it off me.” Satoru says happily.

He goes slow, savors it, the touch of Satoru’s skin against his. True to his word, Satoru presses Suguru into the pillows and kisses him for so long that Suguru feels dizzy with it. He rolls them over and cages Satoru on the bed. Satoru goes docile under his touch, his kisses, as Suguru works his way down Satoru’s body. He nudges at the damp spot on the silk, sucks and kisses Satoru’s dick through it for so long the material turns sheer with how wet it is and Satoru’s shaking and panting. He takes them off then but he doesn’t take the socks off, bites where they end, the smooth pale strength of Satoru’s thighs.

“You’re so pretty,” he tells Satoru, settling between his legs, “so fucking hot, god, you don’t know what you do to me.”

Satoru moans softly in response, looks at him with desperate eyes.

Suguru works him open with focused intent, kissing and licking at his skin, at where his fingers are stretching Satoru. Satoru tries to be quiet but can’t, biting at his lips, slapping a hand over his mouth. It makes Suguru feel strangely proud, the fact that Satoru can’t stop the noises he’s making, that his eyes are all glazed and hazy, that he just keeps saying Suguru’s name over and over.

Suguru pins Satoru’s wrists above his head with one hand while he eases the tip of his cock inside.

“Fuck–” Satoru keens, back arching.

“Slowly, baby,” Suguru tells him. “We’ve got time.” He strokes where Satoru’s stretched around him, pulls out, pushes the head of his cock back in. Satoru makes a sound, rocking his hips shallowly to get Suguru deeper. “God, you always feel so good,” Suguru murmurs, leans up so they can kiss as he sinks slowly into Satoru, “always so tight, always so perfect for me.”

“Feel so good, you feel so good in me—” Satoru kicks his hips up.

Suguru can’t take it anymore, buries himself fully in Satoru with a low groan.

“Yeah–” Satoru gasps as Suguru starts to move. “Ah– god–”

Suguru relishes each punched out sound Satoru makes as he snaps his hips, sets up a rhythm that he knows Satoru likes. Satoru inches up the bed with each thrust despite the hold Suguru has on his wrists, his hip. Satoru tilts his hips up underneath Suguru, moaning his name, and Suguru lets go of Satoru’s wrists to hook his fingers on Satoru’s lower teeth, drag his mouth open for a kiss that’s barely a kiss, his fingers and their tongues tangling. Suguru knows he’s got the angle right when Satoru stops trying to kiss back, his mouth going lax, fingers biting into Suguru’s biceps. His legs are wrapped tightly around Suguru’s waist, soft satin of his socks, the rough lace at the tops of them. Satoru keeps making little broken sounds and Suguru can’t take it anymore. He’s going to come. He wants Satoru to come first.

“Come for me, okay baby?” Suguru asks, nosing at the sweat on Satoru’s temple. “Just like that, come on, I know you can, so good for me–”

Satoru clenches around him and comes untouched, bunny ears askew and tears in his eyes. Suguru kisses him through it, drunk off it, off the wet pulse of Satoru between them, his body twitching underneath Suguru as he tries to lift up, bend at the waist with the force of his orgasm, and can’t.

“I like you so much,” Suguru whispers into Satoru’s ear, tugs at the lobe with his teeth as he grinds deep inside him. Satoru shudders underneath him, his cock twitching against Suguru’s stomach.

“I like you more.” Satoru pants and squeezes around him and Suguru, so close to the edge already, looks at Satoru’s summer blue sky eyes and comes.

He loses his voice before he can say I don’t think that’s possible.

[satoru]
why did u call me three times
r u dead
im so sorry i’ll mourn u actually

[suguru]
can you come to the prince hotel tonight

[satoru]
omg always
where we had our first fight and fuck
how romantic

[suguru]
surely that was like our third fight

[satoru]
picky picky
but yeah why what’s up

[suguru]
we can talk there

[satoru]
ominous ass motherfucker

Satoru swings into the Prince much the same way he swung into Suguru’s life– suddenly and with a flash of color and noise and promise. Suguru doesn’t know how to live without it anymore.

Suguru doesn’t know how to live without him anymore.

“I need to tell you something.” Suguru says, before Satoru can even sit down. Satoru stares at him. He starts to lower himself into his chair, a flash of uncertainty across his features.

“Okay,” he says slowly.

“I’m seeing someone.” Suguru says without preamble, “like in a relationship, so–”

“What.” Satoru says bluntly and without inflection. He sits down heavily in his chair and stares at Suguru. “We fucked last night, Suguru. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I know we did. Actually—” Suguru adds, even though Satoru’s fingers have started to twitch on the table, “I got him a present, do you think that he’ll like it?” He lifts up the small box holding the couple rings that he chose but Satoru is not paying attention.

“He?” Satoru hisses. His fingers twitch distinctly toward his knife. “When did you even— what do you— what the fuck–” Suguru reaches for him. Satoru evades his hand with a jerky movement. “I’m fucking leaving.” Satoru snaps and starts to stand. “What the fuck.” He says.

Suguru sighs.

“Shoko said you weren’t gonna figure it out right away and would get mad.” He tells Satoru. “But I thought–”

Satoru makes a sound so loud that the waitress walking toward them spins on her heel and walks away. Suguru can see the next table over pretend like they are not looking at him and Satoru.

“What the fuck.” Satoru hisses at him. “Shoko knows?”

“Satoru, listen to me.” Suguru pleads. “I’ve been dating him a few months now–”

“A few months?” Satoru spits. The couple at the table next to them stop pretending not to look.

“Yeah, since, I don’t know, the end of October? He took care of me when I was drunk in a bar and we kissed?” Suguru tries.

Satoru blinks at him. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something then closes it again.

“He takes care of me a lot actually.” Suguru adds, touches Satoru’s hand tentatively. “And I’m pretty sure we’ve been dating maybe since then? It’s just that I’m just fucking slow on the uptake, like really fucking—” Suguru sighs at himself. He places the box on the table by Satoru’s water glass. “Do you think he’ll still want to date me even though I’m so behind on everything and he’s been smarter than me this whole time, and we’ve been dating for months and I just didn’t fucking know?”

Satoru looks at Suguru and then at the box and then back at Suguru. He opens the box and stares at the rings inside. He taps his fingers on the table, one two three four, flushed a cotton candy pink down to his collarbones. Suguru knows how far down that flush goes. He loves chasing it with his mouth.

“I think I love him.” Suguru whispers after a moment. Satoru’s fingers stop tapping. “Actually, I know I do.” Satoru still hasn’t looked back up at him. Suguru watches Satoru touch one of the rings with his finger gently. “Satoru–” Suguru starts.

“You love him?” Satoru asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Suguru whispers. He takes a breath. “Do you think he could love me too?”

“I don’t know.” Satoru says after a moment, tracing the ring. “You’re basically just good in bed, that's kinda all.” His tone is teasing but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips, a tenderness there that Suguru realizes now is reserved for him, for them. That soft smile is something only he gets. It makes his heart feel warm. Sticky.

“Oh, is that kinda all?” Suguru repeats.

“Yeah,” Satoru says and then looks at him, all blue eyes and white hair and smart wicked mouth.

Suguru has never wanted someone as badly as he wants Satoru.

“I don’t know how to want someone as much as I want you.” He whispers. There is a pause while the universe tries to hold itself together. “I’m sorry, Satoru. I’m not good at this but I want to be, for you. I—”

“Shut up.” Satoru says. “I don’t even like you.”

“Way more convincing if you weren’t, like, tearing up.” Suguru whispers.

“I have allergies.” Satoru informs him with a sniff. Satoru’s hand finds Suguru’s on the tabletop, Suguru squeezes his fingers.

“Shut the fuck up.” Suguru says. “Satoru, I–”

“We really have been dating for, like, four months, idiot. I’ve liked you since the beginning, even before we fucked. Fuck, we’ve probably been dating since the first time we fucked.”

“I’m really slow on the uptake.” Suguru pleads.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” Satoru says and traces the ring again with his free hand. None of this is an answer. Suguru feels like he’s losing the last little grip he had on reality. On himself.

“Satoru, I know I’ve fucked up but–”

“I wanna kiss you but don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself at just that.” Satoru says, cutting him off. He looks at him with hungry eyes. “And then we’ll get arrested.”

“I know a good lawyer.” Suguru whispers, white noise in his brain. Satoru laughs, that loud cackle that Suguru loves, has always loved, from the first time on the train.

“I think he loves you too, you know. For a while, probably.” Satoru tilts his head and looks at him.

Suguru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I love you.” Suguru says softly and then louder because he can. “I love you, Satoru. I want to be with you.”

Satoru laughs a shaky little laugh, rubs at his forehead. His grip is tight on Suguru’s hand. Suguru thinks Satoru is using the touch to ground himself. Suguru is using it for the same reason.

“I love you too, you unbelievable– fuck.” Satoru grabs a sugar packet and throws it at Suguru’s head and then another one at his chest.

“I deserve that.” Suguru acknowledges as they hit him.

“You fucking think.” Satoru snaps, throws a third sugar packet. “God, fuck, lowkey good play. I almost had a heart attack. I hate you. I love you.”

Suguru’s heart sings. He has to take a deep breath. He adjusts their hands so their fingers intertwine. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of taking Satoru’s hand, the way their fingers fit together, the sturdiness to his grip.

“Hey.” Suguru whispers to get Satoru to meet his gaze. He clears his throat. “I’m not shameless enough to think that I’m your first love, but let me be your last.”

There is a long pause. Satoru stares at him open-mouthed.

“Wow, what the fuck.” Satoru looks amused and utterly horrified. Suguru feels that sense of pride he always gets when he’s the one who made Satoru look like that. “Where the hell did you pull that from?”

Suguru shrugs. “Old novel, thought you would hate it.”

“I so did.” Satoru says and then he leans across the table and kisses Suguru in front of god, the waitress, and everybody else.

Suguru doesn’t even mind.

“Me too.” Satoru whispers. “But first and last. I am shameless. Howl doesn’t count.”

Suguru kisses him again. Satoru smiles and sinks back into his seat and then says, without really looking at Suguru,

“You are though, you know. First I mean. I don’t think I knew how to feel this way, that I could feel this way, until you. Until I met you.”

Suguru tilts forward and puts his forehead on the table. He takes another deep breath. His head is spinning. He’s so happy he feels almost sick. Satoru plays with his fingers. Suguru doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. He feels something cold and metal slide onto his ring finger. Looks up to see Satoru smiling down at his hand, at the matching rings.

“No fair, I didn’t even get to put yours on you. Or see you put mine on.” Suguru sits upright. “Take it off, you fucking cheated.”

“No.” Satoru says and smiles pleasantly at him. “Now, please take me somewhere you can fuck me so hard I forget my name without us needing a lawyer on retainer.”

Suguru has never paid a bill so fast in his life.

Suguru wakes up to spring sunshine filtering into their apartment. Satoru rolls over in his arms with a yawn, pressing his cold nose into Suguru’s chest. Satoru finds one of his hands and intertwines their fingers. Their rings sound like bells when they clink together. They don’t usually sleep with them on but last night they had. Satoru had gotten their initials engraved on them and Suguru hadn’t wanted to take his off. He only did so that he could see their initials and the small heart engraved on the inside. Satoru had started teasing him about the number of times he took it off, smiled at it, put it back on.

Whipped, Satoru had said like Suguru hadn’t caught him doing the same thing, cheesy ass motherfucker. His smile had tasted golden when Suguru kissed him.

Suguru presses a kiss to Satoru’s knuckles, then his cheek, then his temple to wake him. Satoru makes a small sound and blinks his eyes open, face melting from sleepy into fond. He wiggles up on the bed for a soft chaste kiss before he pulls Suguru close, pressing their foreheads together, sliding his leg between Suguru’s.

“Morning.” Suguru whispers.

“G’morning.” Satoru mumbles. He pulls back slightly, one hand tenderly tucking Suguru’s hair behind his ear. “We don’t have anywhere to go today at all.” He says with a little yawn. “What do you feel like doing? Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Suguru says. “I want you.”

“Well you have me.” Satoru says with a wicked grin before he presses another, although slightly less chaste, kiss to Suguru’s mouth. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Suguru says honestly, thumbing at Satoru’s cheekbone. “I think I just want to have you for a long time.”

Satoru puts his face into the crook of Suguru’s neck and makes a long vowel filled sound.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he says after a moment, voice muffled. He smacks lightly at Suguru’s chest without lifting his head, “It drives me fucking crazy.”

“What do you want to do then?” Suguru asks, stretching underneath him.

Satoru looks up at him grumpily through his messy bangs. He ponders silently as Suguru strokes through his hair, rubs his ears.

“I want to come untouched on your cock.” Satoru announces calmly and Suguru’s hand that’s threaded into Satoru’s hair jerks. “Ow,” Satoru complains, “oh, and also go eat okonomiyaki? Monjayaki? Open for debate.”

“You can’t just say shit like that,” Suguru tells him, tugging Satoru’s hair gently just to watch his pupils dilate in pleasure, “it drives me fucking crazy.”

“Okonomiyaki really does it for you?” Satoru purses his lips, sticks out his tongue.

“You coming untouched really does it for me.” Suguru murmurs, arousal stirring in his gut as he thinks about it. “Fuck, I love when you come like that, just because my dick feels so good, you go so shaky, get all obedient—”

“Stop talking.” Satoru complains. “I’m gonna get hard.”

“Good?” Suguru says. “I like your plan. It’s a good plan. God, you drive me crazy.”

“Well, it sounds like we’re a good match.” Satoru says with a little grin, one that Suguru wants to taste. He lifts up and licks at Satoru’s lower lip.

“Yeah.” Suguru says. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Oh you think?” Satoru says, laughs, kisses him again. “You think, huh?”

“I know.” Suguru says. “I know we are.”

“Oh, he knows so now,” Satoru teases, tugging him up from the bed, “teeth, teeth, teeth so I can kiss you proper.” He pulls Suguru by the wrist toward the bathroom. Suguru can’t help his fond smile as he follows. In the bathroom doorway he stops and Satoru jerks to a stop too, turns to him confused. “Something I can help you with?” He says, laughing as Suguru doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just strokes the soft skin on Satoru’s inner wrist.

“Nah.” Suguru says.

“Nah,” Satoru mimics and then smiles, that grin that drew Suguru in right from the first second.

“You’re it for me.” Suguru whispers, overcome. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” Satoru says simply, flushing gently pink. “Gosh, cheesy, ugh—” Satoru smacks at Suguru’s chest with his free arm and then presses forward, slings it around Suguru’s neck.

When Satoru’s mouth touches his the world spreads out in front of Suguru, gentle and open, tender, as soft as Satoru’s fingers interlocked with his.

“Love you.” He murmurs and Satoru— wonder of all wonders to Suguru every single time—says it back.

♡♡♡