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Satoru isn’t sure how she ended up in this situation. All she knows is you weren’t joking when you told her you enjoyed giving rather than receiving.
The pillowcase’s cheap material has her fighting off static hair clinging to her cheeks, a nearly impossible task as her back arches with every passing second with you between her legs. Her “Sexy Time” playlist has now faded to the back of her head, overshadowed by her own whines and moans as you make sure to lick her clean off her juices.
Today marks the third month since your first- encounter . She’s not counting though, it so happens to be that she’s really good at remembering useless dates. Like your birthday, or your next doctor’s appointment.
The wave of pleasure waters down all her worries and stress, legs instinctually beginning to close. A month ago she would’ve reached for the closest clothing item and called it a day, leaving with a flirty wink and a promise to call in a few days. Now she stays still, painfully aware of your lingering touches and the goosebumps traveling down her spine, the hairs rising on her arms. The static, of course.
Satoru remembers the first time she gained such consciousness over the intimacy shared between the two of you, it feeds off her like a curse.
You had nestled between her thighs then, eyes hungry and wet, begging for one more round- and Satoru Gojo never says no to a good fuck. If only she had known that something (everything) would change after that. Suddenly your hands were glued to her skin, burning and leaving a mark. Your face was too close, so close she could feel you breathing against her core- and she was so vulnerable, with her legs wide open and ribs exposed. A wounded lamb bleeding out in front of a famelic wolf. You didn’t bite though, of course you didn’t. What a lame beast , she had thought. The scorching, gentle touch; the meaningful sighs and desperate proximity; the intention, the want, the need to understand.
Her body was sliced open, and instead of diving in you were trying your damn best to put all her pieces back together and make her feel . A useless predator. It was pathetic- she was pathetic. With those lame pop songs she would fuck faceless bodies to, now piercing her ears, watching her come undone in the arms of a whole ass human; with eyes to get lost in and a name to remember. A warmth to crave.
Suddenly, what was supposed to be merely sexual, became intimately personal. Your lips, your hands, your breath. Her lips, her hips, her breath. She no longer ended when you started, but continued to be alongside. You made sounds that would echo through her skull as weeks went by, moans slowly turning into shy giggles and soft sighs.
Satoru should’ve left right then and there, but it was too good. Scary good. So she called you once more. And again. And again. Until it was too late.
There’s no breaking your spell now, condemned to a life of fake smiles and lame pickup lines. Forever a love evader. A good fuck. A trusted friend.
“‘Toru.” Your voice so sweet, honey-like. That fucking nickname. “Do you like that?”
Fuck.
The first time you asked, she thought it was sooo hot, so so hot .
Shit baby say that again, fuck you’re so hot.
Now it makes her ears turn a bright shade of pink, her toes curl and her heart flutter. As long as you don’t notice, as long as her wet pussy is enough of a distraction.
“Yeah baby, you’re making me feel so good.”
She pretends she doesn’t feel you smile against her cunt.
Control yourself.
Be cool.
She almost has it, almost fakes it. Until you reach up to cup one of her tits, not pinching her nipple but softly grazing it. She hates it when you tease her, not because it feels bad but because it’s something you discovered only due to your unplanned (inevitable) stay.
Satoru is convinced you know what’s going on in her head. What’s going on in her heart. How could you not? When you bury yourself deep inside her, crawling under her skin and chewing on her bones. You probably know her better than she knows herself.
Oh how she misses being the wolf. So fierce, and careless.
She comes a second time. Her orgasm always feels like a sparkler has been lit inside her, slowly but surely making its way to a predictable end. Then she sees white, and red and orange- and she loves it, how patient you are, how attentive.
Finally you’re leaving her alone, rolling to the side and curling up against her. What comes next is the same question she always asks you, already knowing what your answer will be.
“Do you want me to…?” It’s out of courtesy, not even finishing the sentence. Or maybe she’s willing to do whatever you want her to, you just have to fill in the blank.
You shake your head and yawn. “Thanks.”
You never get your turn, and that’s how you like it.
Sometimes she’s glad you came up to her with such a proposal, but only when she’s feeling specially brave. You’re her friend after all, she wouldn’t want any creeps fetishizing or using you- and you probably didn’t want that either, that’s why you came to her, no other reason.
“Can I turn off the music?”
She’s startled by your voice, though it’s soft and tired. Britney is moaning through the speakers.
You know something is up, you have to. Because she’s never this quiet, because she’s called you baby thirty times today but hasn’t stared at your tits once. Because her eyelids are closing and she’s making no attempt to flee out your door, waiting for you to get back in bed and spoon her ‘till she’s warm and gone.
Maybe she should take what you give, it’s only a matter of time ‘till you stop playing with her and finally sink your teeth in her throat.
She’s your prey, so you must know how this ends.
You have to, you’re the wolf after all.