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For reasons unknown to him, it’s Yuuji who’s called in to fetch a drunken, unruly Gojo and return him to his room in the teacher dorms. It’s Yuuji who has to struggle with a hundred ninety-something centimeters of bulk draped along his back, with muscled arms coiled around his front and long legs dragging stubbornly along the ground like a kraken trying to sink a ship.
It’s Yuuji who skips a step when something hard digs into the base of his spine and Gojo moans softly in his ear, but it’s both of them who tumble to the floor when he trips and falls.
The next thing he knows, Gojo’s looming over him like a lazy big cat, nudging his bulge against Yuuji’s face.
“Open your mouth for me, baby.”
He pretends the only reason he’s doing this is because it might placate Gojo enough to make him docile—so he’ll go to bed afterwards without a fuss—as if Yuuji’s own dick hadn’t immediately perked up at the touch, the sound, the thought.
So he helps Gojo free himself, and he opens his mouth, and he lets Gojo rut against his tongue and into the back of his throat without laying a single hand on where he’s aching and wanting because none of this is for him.
He tries to ignore Gojo’s drunken babbling but he’s even chattier than when he’s sober.
“Oh, you’re so sweet for me, baby.”
“Yeah, that’s it, suck me nice and tight.”
“So pretty I wanna take a picture.”
“I love your mouth, fuck—let me live the rest of my life right fucking here.”
All amidst a constant stream of Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji, so there’s no fooling himself into believing Gojo sees him as just a convenient hole in the moment.
“’m close, sweetheart. Where do you want it?”
Yuuji doesn’t care. “Wherever you want,” he says, rasping, and he keeps on pretending that this is all for getting Gojo to bed easier, like letting the man pick where he comes will make him happy enough to stop fighting Yuuji every step of the way back.
But who is he kidding?
“Anywhere?”
Gojo blinks at him like a creature from the depths, bright blue eyes open wide and freezing him in place from their intensity alone. He sways unsteadily, pitching forward until he’s curled over Yuuji’s head, and he catches himself with fingers tangled in Yuuji’s hair.
“Wherever I want, baby, really?”
The slick head of his cock bumps up against Yuuji’s lips, and Yuuji opens his mouth for him again in anticipation. “Uh huh,” he agrees, tongue stuck out and waiting.
Gojo dips in out and of him shallowly, leaking bitter on his taste buds. “Yuuji,” he croons, so sweetly Yuuji can almost feel it in his teeth. “Yuuji, Yuuji-kun, you’re spoiling me. You’ll let me mark you up anywhere I want, hm?”
A flush crawls up Yuuji’s face to warm his ears. He makes another muffled noise of agreement, the vibrations startling a sharp gasp from Gojo’s mouth.
“Fuck, baby, don’t rush me,” he whines, hips jerking out of Yuuji’s reach. “’s my choice tonight, you promised.”
He talks like they’ve done this countless times before, or like they’ll do this countless times again, and Yuuji finds he doesn’t hate the idea—coaxing a tipsy Gojo home again and again with his willing mouth and his body an open canvas.
It’s with that thought in mind that Yuuji lays still when Gojo wiggles down his body and starts pawing at his clothes.
But then a moment passes. And then another.
“... Sensei?” Yuuji prods, tentative.
“Stupid belt,” Gojo mutters. “Why is this even in your uniform anyway?”
You could’ve customized it, he doesn’t say. That’d come too close to admitting to how often he’s thought about Gojo picking out his clothes and dressing him up exactly to his tastes.
“Here,” Yuuji says instead, sitting up. “Let me—”
Gojo pushes him right back down with a hand on his chest, so hard the floor beneath him cracks.
“Stay,” he commands, and the faint haze in his eyes focuses into something razor sharp, like a predator rearing to strike.
“Right, yeah, of course. Staying.”
Yuuji’s banged his head enough times to know he isn’t hurt. The dizziness he feels now is all lust, and his heart thunders in his chest as Gojo finishes fumbling with his belt and strips his lower half bare.
Gojo slips between his thighs, one hand on his cock as he taps it against the underside of Yuuji’s. “Darling boy,” he purrs, teasing further and further down Yuuji’s dick. “Look at how hard you are. Did it turn you on that much to suck Sensei’s cock?”
His hips buck, knees digging into Gojo’s sides. “Yeah,” he gasps, trying not to squirm as Gojo nudges against his ballsack. “It did. It really did. It turned me on so much.”
Gojo seizes one of his knees and presses it back towards his shoulder. The muscles in his arm flex as he starts to jerk himself off.
“And you’ll let me come wherever I want?”
Pressure asserts itself against Yuuji’s hole. His heart skips a beat. Or maybe it skips three.
For a moment, Yuuji thinks Gojo might actually do it. He thinks Gojo might push into him dry and unprepared just so he can finish as deep as he can inside Yuuji’s body.
For a moment, Yuuji thinks he might let him.
“I... I promised,” he says, terrified or excited or some fucked up combination of both.
Gojo moans, head tipping back as he comes right there, soaking Yuuji’s entrance with hot streaks of come. His hips twitch forward with every pulse, wedging his cockhead against Yuuji’s too tight hole with pinpoint, frightening accuracy, until it feels like he might. Like he really, really might.
“Sensei,” Yuuji wheezes out, trying his best to hold still for him. “Please, it’s my first time—”
Gojo finally stops, peering at him through half-hooded eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” he muses, unmistakably smug. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll treat you right.”