Chapter Text
“Just two minutes,” Satoru said. “It’ll be fun,” he said.
It’s always easier for the psyche in this line of work to not make any real connections. You know few people, and you lose them.
Satoru is different though. You’ve known him since you were both toddlers. You been friends, however distant, since you were both teenagers. Even when he ended up at Tokyo and you were sent to Kyoto, you found a way to stay some kind of connected to each other. But it hadn’t escalated beyond platonic friendship. It didn’t really need to.
But this time felt different, for some reason. The two of you were in rare form, fighting a gang of curses in and outside an abandoned office building as a team, switching back and forth, covering each other, not even speaking, just thinking and acting as one. Then you exorcised the final curse, the veil fell down over the wide city block, and the two of you locked eyes, in the bright light of the just rising moon.
Ijichi’ll be looking for you both soon, you knew. But Satoru hadn’t brought his blindfold back up to cover his silvery-blue eyes; he was just…taking you in. And you tilted your head, not 100% percent sure of what he was thinking, but feeling pretty confident that you could guess. Because the thought had also just crossed yours.
He jerked his head toward a narrow alleyway between the building and a brick wall, then turned to walk down it.
“Just two minutes,” he threw over his shoulder. Then turned, his grin as brilliant and bright as his gaze. “It’ll be fun.”
“Says you,” you reply, but you follow him anyway.
He’s right on the second count, absolutely wrong on the first. Just as well; he’d never have gotten you pinned between him and that wall if you’d known what the aftermath would be.
When you join him, his arms come around you and his mouth finds yours, soft and light, then deep and filthy. Fuck, you’re not really surprised by this, but he can kiss.
“Isn’t this fun?” He whispers, doesn’t even give you a chance to reply. His lips press to yours again, and you sigh, licking into his mouth, gripping the front of his jacket. He cups your ass, and lifts you, pinning your back against the scratchy brick. You want to care about the delicate silk fabric of your dress being ruined, you want to give a fuck about Satoru suddenly ripping a hole in the crotch of your un-rippable tights (Sheertex did not mention “jujutsu sorcerer with unconquerable cursed techniques” on their website, so you won’t hold it against them) but his hard, strong body against yours, between your spread thighs, melts the concern away like dew in the heat of morning light.
“How much do I owe you for the stockings?” He chuckles against your jaw; you can feel his smirk against your skin.
“Shut up Gojo,” you fire back. “You—” The rest of your thought catches in your throat when he thrusts into you and he hisses sharp against the corner of your mouth. Damn, he fits like he belongs; he inhales, exhales, trading breath back and forth with you as you adjust to the tight, hot feel of him.
“We’re gonna have to do this again later,” he hums, pinning your shoulders to the brick; he pulls your hips toward himself, his warm breath fanning across your neck. “I wanna see if your cunt tastes as good as it feels.” He bites along your top lip and licks it, fucking into you slow and easy, his eyes half-lidded and locked on yours. “Is it as rosy and pink as your lips?” Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
“What…what makes you think—ah!—I wanna do this again?” You manage. Satoru swivels his hips and picks up his pace, huffing another soft laugh into your sharp whimper. Then slaps your thigh, rakes his nails down the stockinged legs wound tight around his waist, gently licks into your mouth when you moan.
“Call it a hunch.” You find the nape of his neck and grip his hair, your fingers twisting into his blindfold; it’s building, flames licking along your body, building in your core, tightening, gripping, sliding wet and hot and close—
“You gonna come for me?” His eyes glitter up at you, deep and blue and gorgeous, the heat in your body ratcheting up.
“S—Sato, I—ah!” You can hear your voices echoing down the narrow alleyway, knowing you should care, not giving a fuck.
“Come on,” he slips a hand between you and you throw your head back against the brick, crying out, tightening around him as you bounce on his dick, as he works your clit, quick and wet and messy—
His teeth bite into your neck as he fucks you through your orgasm, as you moan, high and sweet and desperate, waves of pleasure crashing over you, again, and again, and again—
“Tell me where,” he pants; going faster, fuck, is this another orgasm or the same one—? “Where should I—”
“Inside,” you sigh; everything is so hazy and slow. “Fill me up, Sato—”
He groans against your collarbone, fucks into you harder, harder, one, two, three, four more times before he comes, spurting deep and hard into you. You’ll have bruises on your hips from how hard he’s gripping at them, you know it.
He doesn’t set you down right away, thank fuck; you’re not sure you can stand yet. You’re still spasming around his softening dick when he looks up at you, tossing his head to fling his hair out of his eyes, then grinning at your blissed out expression.
“Told you,” he bites at your bottom lip, chuckles when you glare down at him.
“You also said it’d take two minutes,” you shoot back. “It was not two minutes.”
Satoru opens his mouth to reply—
“Can you two wrap it up please,” Ijichi’s voice comes echoing down the dark alleyway, irritated, but resigned, and desperately trying not to sound uncomfortable. “We’ve got another curse to exorcise 5 kilometers over.” Christ. Gojo laughs, pulling you away from the wall and striding toward the other end of the alleyway.
“Ijichi,” he yells as you bury your face in his shoulder, willing yourself to disappear. “I really hope you have paper towels!”