Look, Satoru has been well aware that Yuuji is extremely, unfairly attractive for years. Even a blind person would hear the husk of his voice, feel the bulk of powerful muscle under silken skin, and be able to recognize that yeah, Yuuji is smokin', and Satoru has the best eyes in the world. It's not personal opinion;  at this point Yuuji's hotness is just objective fact.

Five hard years of physical combat have blessed him with a physique suitable for a martial god, all lean, rounded muscle and cut definition. That he's completely oblivious to the impact his strong, boyish features and warm golden eyes have on his army of would-be suitors doesn't make them any less devastating and the spectacle of crushed hearts and broken hopes has been providing Satoru free entertainment for years.

Satoru himself isn’t interested. Not fucking other sorcerers is his line in the sand - possibly his only one - and he's been very careful not to cross it. Yuuji lives very comfortably and very permanently in the Unfuckable category of his mind and Satoru has never felt any desire to change that.

So really, it makes absolutely zero sense when, upon catching sight of Yuuji emerging from the communal showers, dripping water and dressed only in a towel too small for the monumental task of wrapping around his fat ass, Satoru’s dick immediately decides that actually, it thinks it’d like to get in that. ASAP.

He watches, enthralled, as a bead of water drips from the end of Yuuji’s hair and catches on the swell of his pec, trailing over the smooth plane of flawless skin to catch on the dusky peak of his nipple. It hangs there, suspended and quivering, and Satoru’s abruptly thirsty, his mouth parched as a desert. His tongue aches with the desire to lap at that little drop of water, to trace the winding trail of moisture up and up until he can drink directly from Yuuji’s full mouth.

Error, the rational part of Satoru’s mind blares. Abort.

“Sensei?” Yuuji asks, snapping Satoru from his reverie. He’s watching him with sparkling eyes, lips already stretching into a broad smile despite his faint confusion. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I work here too, Yuuji,” Satoru’s mouth says. “Longer than you have, in fact.”

“Sure,” Yuuji agrees with a laugh. He reaches up to rub at the back of his head, a familiar gesture that also puts the entire length of his torso on display, triceps bulking with the sheepish movement of his arm. More water cascades down his body in shiny rivulets, tracking into the valleys between his abdominals to disappear into the towel currently fighting for its very life. “But I don’t usually see you around the baths. It’s not like you get dirty!”

Satoru’s dick is very interested in showing Yuuji exactly how dirty he can get. Satoru is very interested in getting the fuck out of here and now. Clearly some wires have gotten crossed somewhere. He’s malfunctioning.

“You’re so right, Yuuji!” he says, and throws his head back to laugh, hoping Yuuji doesn’t notice the manic edge to it. “I got turned around, silly me! Goodbye!”

Yuuji blinks at the empty space after Gojo-sensei abruptly disappears, then shrugs to himself. That had been weird, but most things about his former sensei are weird. No point in wasting his few brain cells on worrying over it, Kugisaki will kick his ass if he’s late to her birthday dinner.

XX

So, whatever. It was just a fluke. Satoru’s gone too long without getting his dick wet and it got a little too caught up in Yuuji’s aforementioned hotness. It happens. It’s fine. Satoru understands.

This is a problem that’s easy to solve. He just has to avail himself of the multitudes of other, better options and get himself laid. Not to say that Satoru is drowning in it, except for how he totally is. People have literally thrown themselves at him before.

It was only once, and technically they’d tripped, but the end result had been them falling into Satoru’s arms and then his bed and he’s never been interested in semantics except when it benefits him to be.

So he picks up. And it’s tons of fun and he has a great time and he doesn’t think about Yuuji at all. Why would he? Yes, Yuuji is attractive but the world is full of attractive people, the overwhelming majority of which aren’t jujutsu sorcerers and are thus much more appealing.

Sex means touch, means dropping the barrier of Infinity. To a civilian that doesn’t mean anything but another sorcerer would recognize exactly how vulnerable Satoru is allowing himself to be which is unacceptable, dangerous.

Yuuji would never take advantage, no,  but he might read too much into it, might think Satoru is offering something he really has no interest in. Yuuji’s a grade one powerhouse but he’s got a soft heart for a sorcerer. Satoru has somehow managed to avoid disappointing him this far, he has no intention of breaking that streak.

He tucks Yuuji firmly back into the DO NOT EVER SATORU I’M ACTUALLY SERIOUS box where he belongs, doesn’t touch his dick about it, and opts to forget that he ever looked at a mostly naked Yuuji and imagined shoving his cock so far down his throat Sukuna would feel it.

Everything is under control.

XX

“Sensei?”

Yuuji is standing in the doorway of the faculty lounge, fully dressed in his sorcerer’s uniform and with a little furrow between his brows, voice low with a concern that hasn't quite bloomed into worry. Satoru waves him in, tracking his progress intently as that lean body crosses the room and drops, straight-backed, into the chair across from him.

Bingo, Satoru cheers to himself. The only urgent desire he's feeling is to soothe whatever upset has Yuuji frowning. He only ever wants to see the younger man happy and smiling; tension and worry are fundamentally wrong on him, like biting into a pastry to find out it's been baked with salt and not sugar.

"Are you okay?" Yuuji blurts out before Satoru can open his mouth. His cheeks flush a little but he plows on before giving Satoru a chance to respond. “It’s just - you were acting weird the other day and I didn’t really think about it that much ‘cause you’re you so really it wasn’t that weird -” Satoru mentally sighs in relief “- but then you missed Kugisaki’s dinner and then you missed her birthday party! I know you like to rile her up but that’s a little too far, you wouldn’t blow her off like that just for a laugh.”

Yuuji finishes his spiel, gasping a little for air after rushing the words out without a break, and he’s so earnest, watching Satoru with wide gold eyes and Satoru, well. He’s not someone that is capable of guilt but he does feel a small stirring of something that might be considered remorse in the right light. He decides he'll address the way Yuuji evidently knows him better than he gave him credit for when he has more time and space to unpack it all. Like once he's in the grave.

“I was sick the day of the dinner,” he says mournfully, leaning forward in his seat and sniffing pitifully. “I was on my way to the infirmary when I saw you! I spent the evening being harassed by Shoko.”

It had been the other way around, really. Shoko had made it very clear she had no interest in hearing about Satoru’s dick’s existential crisis. She’d gotten to anyway.

“And then I was all better but I was sent overseas! A curse was eating other curses for power. It was practically a special grade when I arrived so you can understand why I had to go.”

It isn't even a complete lie. Maybe a quarter of a lie. A half of one if you're feeling picky. The curse had been real enough but it can be so hard to keep time zones straight when you're crossing the globe.

Yuuji’s shoulders had drawn tight when he’d heard about Satoru’s ‘illness’ but the tension in him had rapidly drained as the explanation had gone on and now he’s leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. His eyes are wide with excitement, the pink still lingering in his cheeks, and he’s staring at Satoru like he hung the stars in the sky. Satoru is suddenly hyper aware of the way they’ve drawn in close to each other despite the distance between their chairs. He can feel the ghost of Yuuji’s breath over his mouth.

He sits back abruptly and Yuuji mirrors him, settling back in his seat with a smile. “Wow! What did it look like? What kind of technique did it have? Oh, I guess the eating? Or was there more? How did you finish it off?”

The questions keep coming and Satoru is pretty sure he’s answering but frankly his brain has left the building. The spread of Yuuji’s body, loose-limbed and lax, is practically obscene . Satoru can make out the shape of the muscles in his chest and torso, tantalizing through the fabric of his clothes, drawing his gaze down, down, to where Yuuji’s hips are still perched towards the front of his chair, hips tilted towards Satoru like an invitation. His thighs are thrown indecently far apart, shameless and tempting. Satoru wants to get between them.

Yuuji’s moved on to giving Satoru the blow-by-blow of Nobara’s birthday party, hands waving while he talks. Undoubtedly he’s supplying the juiciest gossip, the things Satoru would be most interested in, because Yuuji’s good to him like that. It’s a wasted effort. Satoru’s dick is in control right now and the only thing it’s thinking about is tearing Yuuji apart with his mouth. He wonders how quickly he could make Yuuji beg.

He wonders how quickly he could make Yuuji cry.

He’d be so pretty, cheeks scarlet and mouth red hot, his eyes dark and liquid and framed by thick wet lashes and glittering tears. Satoru would lick them up once he finally got inside of him, give Yuuji time to adjust to the burn of his thick cock spearing him open, carving out a place inside of him that only Satoru would ever be able to fill.

The red alert in Satoru’s mind is starting to sound awfully real. And loud. And outside of his mind, actually. He starts in surprise when Yuuji straightens, digging his ringing phone out of his pocket and jumping to his feet when he catches sight of the screen.

“Fuck! I’m late, Nanamin is gonna kill me,” he wails, grabbing at his hair. Satoru, still a little disoriented, notes that it’s just long enough to get a good fistful of. His dick files that information away for later. “I’ve gotta go!”

Satoru manages to pull himself together enough to call, “Bye-bye! Tell Nanamin I'm thinking of him!” Yuuji pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at him, concern in his eyes again.

“Sensei, I - you’re okay, right?”

“I’m great, Yuuji! Even better knowing my dutiful former student worries about me so much!”

Yuuji’s answering smile is all sunshine and relief. “I’m glad!” he says, and vanishes out the door.

Nothing is under control.

XX

Satoru doubles down on his plans to fuck this weird, insistent lust for Yuuji out of his system.

Specifically, he picks up people with no resemblance to the younger man: People with dark eyes and soft bodies, people who are too big or too small, people with long hair, people who don’t smile at him like he’s the most incredible thing they’ve ever seen, like they’re so happy just to be around him, like they’d do anything for him.

He’s going to train his dick out of its obsession like Pavlov’s fucking dog.

It's actually kind of exhausting, and not really all that fun, but it's not terrible. He's having lots of sex (like, a lot of sex) and even a lackluster orgasm is still a good time all around, but it’s sort of a chore and it's eating up a lot of his free time. He's never considered his sex life mediocre but it kinda feels that way now.

The problem is, sometimes he looks down at (or up at, or over at, or back at) his random, faceless partner and he only sees Yuuji. Those times, he comes so hard it burns in his spine and curls his toes and leaves his ears ringing. Other times he's caught off guard that it isn't Yuuji with him and Infinity flexes into being around him before he can stop himself. He's not sure which is worse.

That's a lie, it's definitely the second one. He hasn't hurt anyone yet but there have been some near misses. Also he usually has to leave after that and then nobody gets off which completely defeats the purpose. Satoru isn't used to failure. It makes him cranky.

Now that he's being forced to pay attention, Satoru is a little shocked by just how much time he spends with the younger man. No matter what Yuuji calls him, Satoru hasn't actually been his teacher in over two years so there's really no excuse for the way Yuuji seeks him out whenever he has a spare moment. Satoru's current round of students are "happy to see someone who will actually answer questions, you idiot, which of you is actually the teacher?" and as long as Yuuji keeps sharing his seemingly endless supply of candy Satoru isn't going to tell him to stop dropping by.

Even if his constant presence is actively sabotaging Satoru’s attempts to jizz him right out of his system.

It's not just Yuuji's ridiculous body, either, though that's absolutely a big (sculpted, lean, powerful) part of it.  Satoru's surprised to discover just how physical Yuuji is with him, always grabbing at his shoulder or his hand, always hugging him, and Infinity gives way for him without any direction from Satoru, without him even having to think about it. He’s even more surprised that it’s second nature for him to reciprocate. Sure, he occasionally hands out head pats to his students but there’s that sort of casual affection and then there’s the way he drapes himself over Yuuji’s broad shoulders and doesn’t ever even consider personal space - his or Yuuji’s.

Yuuji takes his weight with practiced ease, the line of his body relaxing into Satoru’s. He tips his head back to smile up at him and yeah, Satoru’s hips have settled against the swell of Yuuji’s ass and that’s fucking spectacular but it’s the soft look on his face, the honey sweetness of his eyes when he fishes around in his pocket and produces a bright blue lollipop, that has Satoru’s breath catching in his chest.

Oh.

Satoru is more fucked than he realized.

XX

He takes three consecutive missions overseas.

Halfway through the second week he wakes to sticky sheets like he’s a fucking teenager again, Yuuji’s voice still ringing in his ears. The sex in his dream had been slow, gentle. Intimate. He’d called Yuuji ‘baby’.

He stops bothering to pick up after that. There’s no point in trying to pretend he has even a passing interest in anyone else because the problem isn’t his dick at all. It probably never was.

Satoru is not a weak willed man. He’s not ‘weak’ anything but cursed techniques in particular rely heavily on the will of the sorcerer using them and Gojo Satoru is the strongest. To hold onto a title like that you have to be able to recognize when it’s necessary to reassess your battle strategy and Satoru has kept his position for a very long time.

Self-reflection sucks but needs must, and once he stops to really look at the situation everything slots into place with ease, like the pieces had just been waiting for permission to fall together into the whole image.

Yes, he wants to fuck Yuuji and wring desperate cries from him, wants to take him apart and make him come over and over until he forgets everything but Satoru’s cock and his taste and his name. But he also wants to like, hold his hand. He wants to take him out, buy him dinner, dress him up and dress up for him. He wants to go to see Yuuji’s weird anime movies in theaters and argue about how much sugar is in their shopping cart and be the one to cut Yuuji off when he drinks too much while he’s out with his friends. He wants to come home to Yuuji, wants Yuuji to come home to him.

These wants aren’t new, and that’s harder to accept than anything else about this whole ordeal. He’s wanted a life with Yuuji for a long time and Yuuji…Satoru isn’t an idiot even if he’s been incredibly fucking blind. Yuuji wants the same thing, even if he’s seemingly accepted he’ll never get it.

Satoru has a lot to make up for. He’s going to relish every second of it.

XX

Step one in Satoru’s Grand Plan to spend the rest of their lives together is to let Yuuji in on Satoru's Grand Plan to spend the rest of their lives together. Step two is to celebrate by getting his dick so far up Yuuji's luscious ass they won't be able to separate for a week. Minimum.

In a funny twist of fate, Nobara is hosting another dinner party and with a happy little sense of deja vu Satoru volunteers to swing by and pick up Yuuji, once again just returned from his own mission.

"So you can ditch again?" she demands, voice sharp through the phone. His promise that both he and Yuuji will be there, dressed appropriately and on time, doesn't inspire much confidence.  Fair, considering it's a bold-faced lie, but she eventually relents.

Satoru will send her a gift basket of some kind. A spa kit, maybe, something nice. After all, she'd inadvertently been the catalyst for what will most certainly be the best sex of Satoru’s life. And, y’know, a long and happy relationship.

When he finds Yuuji at the school the ends of his hair are still wet from his shower like the last time but he’s fully dressed. That second bit is disappointing but easy enough to fix.

Satoru opens his mouth to call out to the younger man but stalls. He’s spent so much time up to now focused on what’s going to come later that he never got around to figuring out how, exactly, he was going to tell Yuuji what he wants from him.

There's really absolutely no reason to worry that Yuuji won't be on board with Satoru’s plan once he understands what's on offer. Satoru has always known just how easy for him Yuuji would be, how sweet. The idea that he has any reason to be nervous is laughable and stupid.

Still, the words don’t come. Yuuji turns to look over his shoulder and his entire face lights up like the sun when he spots Satoru behind him.

“Sensei!” he calls, spinning around. “You’re finally back! You were gone forever this time!” Despite the complaint Yuuji laughs and takes a step towards Satoru, then another. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging behind him. “I really missed-!”

“Yuuji-kun,” Satoru interrupts, obnoxiously loud in the empty hallway. “You wanna have sex with me, right?” Yuuji freezes and Satoru laughs at him. “It’s true isn’t it? You want to fuck your old sensei?”

“I-” Yuuji tries. Satoru can practically see the blue screen going on behind his eyes before he reboots and his face turns so red so fast Satoru idly wonders if Yuuji is actually going to pass out. He’ll catch him, obviously, but that will really throw a spanner in his plans for their evening. “No!”

“No?” Satoru raises an eyebrow beneath his blindfold, smirking, and Yuuji slaps at his own burning cheeks.

“I mean yes! Obviously! But no! Uhm.” Yuuji pauses and takes a deep breath, blows out a shaky exhale. Satoru’s heart is hammering in his chest and he can only hope Yuuji is too caught up in his own panic to tell how anxious he is. He watches in real time as the younger man regains his footing from Satoru’s surprise attack, always quick to adapt, and his voice is steadier when he clarifies, “I’m trying to say I don’t just want to have sex with you. If that’s all you’re interested in then I don’t want it.”

Satoru closes the distance between them before Yuuji can react, bends down and leans his face in close to Yuuji’s while Yuuji blinks up at him, startled. They’re near enough that his nose brushes Yuuji’s when he says, “Oh? Really! You’d turn me down, Yuu-jiii?”

He draws the name out, letting his voice drop a register until it drags on its way out of his throat and the shudder that wracks through Yuuji’s taught body is delicious. Satoru licks his lips, suddenly more interested in hurrying this along than teasing. Out of character, maybe, but it’s been weeks since he realized that he wanted this and he’s not used to having to wait. Wherever that inhuman well of patience came from, it is bone dry now.

Yuuji’s eyes are caught on Satoru’s mouth and he lets out the tiniest of whimpers at the flash of his tongue. The honey of his eyes is darkening into amber and a hot bolt of arousal sears down Satoru’s spine when Yuuji’s hands come up to rest against his chest. He can’t tell if Yuuji is going to pull him closer or push him away and Yuuji doesn’t seem to know either, standing frozen under Satoru’s stare for a moment that stretches out, fragile and full of promise, between them.

“I-” Yuuji says again. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. His hands fist in Satoru’s shirt and tension coils into his arms, strength bunching in the muscles Satoru so loves to admire, and before he can decide one way or another, before Satoru has to know if Yuuji would really push him away, Satoru grabs him by the hips and draws his body in flush against himself.

“I like Yuuji too,” he admits, playful, and then claims Yuuji’s mouth.

Yuuji stays frozen for one heartbeat then two, but when Satoru licks at the seam of his lips, stubborn and insistent, he lets out the hottest sound Satoru has ever heard and melts into him all at once. He accepts his weight gladly, tightening his grip on his hips and stepping backwards until he can brace himself against the wall, groaning when Yuuji presses even closer, slotting their hips together.

Satoru can already feel the other man's cock fattening up against the hollow of his hip and when he fucks his tongue into Yuuji’s mouth, claiming, filthy, he can feel the way it twitches in response. Satoru smirks. Easy for him indeed.

Then Yuuji sucks on his tongue and any smugness evaporates in the wake of the want that burns through him like liquid fire, pooling low and molten in his belly.

Now that he’s given himself permission to touch even the threat of dismemberment wouldn’t be enough to keep his hands from roaming down to finally - fucking finally - grab at Yuuji’s fat ass. He can practically hear the heavenly chorus as he kneads at the firm round muscle, squeezing hard enough he can feel the skin indent around his fingertips. He hopes he’s leaving bruises, dark spots in the span of his hands to be admired later, when Yuuji’s lying fucked out and sated in Satoru’s soiled sheets.

Yuuji tears his mouth away to whine, high pitched and needy. The pink in his cheeks is darkening into red and sweat is beginning to bead at his hairline when Satoru adjusts his grip, tucking the very tips of his fingers into the seam of Yuuji’s ass. The broken sound he makes when Satoru presses in hard enough to get a finger against his hole through the material of his pants and rub there, rough and dry, will star in Satoru’s wet dreams for the rest of forever.

The way Yuuji pushes back against Satoru’s teasing finger has him biting back a groan of his own. His cock is straining against the front of his pants and Yuuji untangles one hand from Satoru’s jacket to drag it down, mapping the clenching muscles in Satoru’s belly before cupping him. His palm is hot and rough and Satoru drops his shoulders back and rolls his hips up into the pressure, panting. He can feel himself leaking at the touch and his head spins. For one delirious moment he seriously considers blocking off the hallway with Infinity and having Yuuji right here and now but he reigns the impulse in.

He wants Yuuji spread out and naked in his bed, wants him out of his mind. He won’t settle for anything less.

Also, he hadn’t thought to bring any lube. A grievous oversight on his part but one he won’t be making again.

His resolve is immediately tested when Yuuji drops to his knees to mouth at him through the fabric of his slacks. Satoru hisses, catching a fistful of soft pink hair and dragging Yuuji’s face over the clothed bulge of his cock. Yuuji whines, staring up at him with dark eyes, his nose mashed up against Satoru’s dick. His breath is hot through the fabric, wet, and this is a test, this is one last divine trial of Satoru’s willpower and he isn’t going to fail it, not when he’s this close to everything he’s ever wanted.

He allows himself to rock his hips into Yuuji’s face once, a delicious shiver wracking his spine and raising the hair on his arms, before he tightens his hand in the younger man’s hair and pulls him to his feet.

“You can choke on my cock all you want later, okay?” he whispers against Yuuji’s mouth. He giggles when Yuuji whimpers, straining against Satoru’s grip, trying to get back on his knees. “Good things come to those who wait, Yuuji-kun!”

And without waiting for a response, Satoru takes Yuuji(‘s ass) firmly in hand and transports them both to his bedroom.

The instantaneous relocation always leaves Yuuji dizzy and Satoru absently strokes a hand down his spine while he gets his bearings. “Whoa,” he mutters, glancing around Satoru’s room with wide eyes. Satoru doesn’t give a single fuck about his unmade bed or the clothes strewn everywhere. If anything, he’s just eager to add to the mess which is why his pouting is totally justified when Yuuji steps back and away from him.

“Sensei,” he says, rubbing at his neck, and Satoru’s pout morphs into a scowl at how much more present he sounds now than he had back in the hallway, whining for Satoru’s cock. “Should we - I mean, we should talk about this?” He’s trying to be firm, serious, but the sentence tilts up into a question towards the end despite his best effort.

With a groan, Satoru reaches up to remove his blindfold in two sharp tugs. “Yuuji,” he says, voice low. He doesn’t bother to aim for teasing, well and truly at his limit. “I’m going to fuck you and date you and eventually I’m even gonna marry you. We have the rest of our lives to talk about anything and everything you want to but if I don’t have you naked in my bed in the next forty-five seconds I’m going to actually die. You’re going to kill me, Yuuji. The strongest, dead of blue balls.”

Yuuji stands, shocked and gaping and very frustratingly not moving to strip himself and with an exasperated huff Satoru reaches out to do it for him. He manages to wrestle Yuuji’s jacket open and off his shoulders but the tight black shirt underneath gets caught on his chin and tangled around his arms when he belatedly lifts them to help.

Satoru abandons the mess he’s made of Yuuji’s shirt in favor of getting his hands on all of the smooth, tanned skin he just unwrapped for himself like a present. Sculpted muscles visibly shiver from his touch and when he drags his thumbnail over the peak of one pebbled nipple Yuuji’s cock gives a violent jerk where it’s tenting the front of his pants.

“Sensei,” Yuuji gasps, finally yanking his shirt over his head. His eyes are wide and dark, the gold swallowed by hungry black, and the violent red flush in his cheeks is spilling down his throat to stain his heaving chest. A sheen of sweat is beginning to highlight the contours of his chiseled abdomen and he pushes the heel of his hand against his own erection with a grit-out whine. Despite his obvious arousal, the smile that spreads over his face can only be described as shit-eating. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Satoru blinks at him, momentarily thrown by having his own words used against him. Little menace. Satoru is going to devour him whole.

He shoves at Yuuji’s shoulders, bullying him back towards Satoru’s bed. There’s a brief moment where Satoru pushes and Yuuji doesn’t budge. It’s only an instant, the smallest sliver of time, just long enough to remind him that without the use of cursed energy Yuuji is physically stronger than he is. When he drops onto the mattress, bouncing a little, they both know it’s because Yuuji allowed it, because he wants Satoru to push him around.

That easy surrender is the final nail in Satoru’s coffin. The echo of it hammering home leaves his ears ringing.

Satoru strips himself quickly and efficiently. He's been admired by dozens of partners over the years but none of that empty praise can match the look on Yuuji’s face when he wraps a hand around his cock and gives himself a firm stroke, the way he licks at his swollen mouth and sways towards Satoru like he can’t help himself.

“Sensei, I want to - please - let me taste you.” He sounds drunk, sounds desperate, the words slurring together. When Satoru smears his thumb through the moisture beading at the head of his cock he whines, needy and shameless.

Planting his knee on the mattress, Satoru stretches himself out over Yuuji’s splayed body, bracing his clean hand next to Yuuji’s head. With a dark smile he draws his wet thumb from the corner of Yuuji’s eye down the arch of his cheekbone, painting over Sukuna’s slitted mark with a shiny trail of his own come.

“Satoru,” Yuuji whispers, voice harsh, and Satoru leans in to kiss him, biting at his lips and licking into his mouth, claiming him. He’s Satoru’s now. He has been for a very long time.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he murmurs into Yuuji’s panting mouth. “I want your ass in the air.”

The speed with which Yuuji moves to obey leaves Satoru a little dizzy, breathless with how powerful he feels. He sits back on his heels to give the younger man room to turn over and get his knees under himself and the sight of that perfect ass swaying and flexing as Yuuji settles has Satoru grabbing at his dangerously throbbing cock again. Precum drips, sticky, over the backs of his own knuckles.

Yuuji finally stills with a sigh, head resting on his folded arms and back dipping into an arch so deep his chest is on the mattress. Satoru wants to drag his tongue along the perfect bow of his spine. He can just make out the shape of his cock hanging between his thick thighs, dripping onto the bedding, and his mouth floods with saliva, heart hammering as he slowly, finally, settles his hands over Yuuji’s bare ass.

It feels a little like a religious experience. Satoru doesn’t resist the urge to tip forward onto his knees and worship.

Yuuji’s paler here where the sun never touches, soft and somehow vulnerable. Something hot and possessive roars through Satoru at the first blushing hint of bruises welling up beneath Yuuji’s skin, dark points from Satoru’s fingertips. He leans in to suck at one, ignoring Yuuji’s yelp of surprise, digging his teeth in and drawing blood to the surface without a drop of mercy.

When he sits back Yuuji is trembling and he pets idly at his hips and thighs until he settles again, admiring his work. Vicious satisfaction curls in his gut, hot and heavy in his cock, at the scarlet spilling over Yuuji’s tender skin. The black-purple of broken blood vessels ringed by the impression of Satoru’s teeth is beautiful.

Settling his palms back over Yuuji’s skin, Satoru squeezes once just to watch the way the muscle and fat bulges up between his splayed fingers. Then he digs his thumbs into the crease of Yuuji’s glorious ass and spreads him wide, until the stretch of it has Yuuji gasping, baring his most vulnerable place to Satoru’s all-seeing eyes.

“Gorgeous, Yuuji,” he murmurs, and he is. He’s sweating, just a little, a hint of moisture shining along the crack of his ass like a beacon guiding Satoru’s gaze down to the dusky little furl of his hole. Satoru wants to touch him there. He wants to feel him resist him and then he wants to feel him give way for him. With no more warning than a quick squeeze of his hands, Satoru leans in and licks, from bottom to top.

The muscles in Satoru’s shoulders and arms have to strain against the effort of keeping Yuuji in place when he nearly jackknifes off of the bed. “Wha-” he manages, hips stuttering, trying to get away from the unexpected sensation of Satoru’s tongue. “Sensei what are you-” He chokes and can’t finish his sentence when Satoru repeats the motion, humming.

The taste of Yuuji is thick here, musky and overpowering. Satoru is immediately and irreversibly addicted.

“Sensei,” Yuuji says again. His voice is strained, his entire body quivering. He’s stopped trying to pull away. “Why-that’s so dirty, you don’t have to- Oh.” He trails off into a moan as Satoru rubs his tongue in broad circles over his hole, letting Yuuji adjust to the sensation. “Feels good,” he admits, and Satoru rewards him with a gentle suck at that little pucker of wrinkled skin.

With Yuuji finally on board with the proceedings, Satoru gets to work. He’s never given much thought to eating ass but as he licks and licks at the tender skin of Yuuji’s rim, hot and throbbing under the attention, he’s starting to see the appeal. Yuuji is whimpering and whining, nearly incoherent, hips rocking mindlessly back against his face, all sense of shame obliterated by Satoru’s insistent tongue.

He’d smirk if his lips weren’t so thoroughly occupied. Instead he opens his mouth wider and shoves his tongue more firmly against the place where Yuuji’s softening for him, opening under the coaxing of Satoru’s tongue. Yuuji moans and Satoru does it again, laving around Yuuji’s hole until, with a last hard push, the muscle gives way and Satoru’s tongue curls into him. Yuuji is burning hot inside, silken, and Satoru has to grab him by the hips to keep him in place while he fucks him with his tongue. Against his belly his own dick throbs, jerking in time with his hammering heart as Yuuji’s little whimpers drive him wild.

“Fuck,” Yuuji groans. His voice is broken, wet around the edges. He’s not crying yet but he’s close and Satoru hungrily hauls him in closer, pushes his face in even deeper, shoves his tongue as far as he can and drags it out slow, curling it over and around Yuuji’s rim before pushing back into his greedy hole.

The fat globes of Yuuji’s ass are pressing against Satoru’s cheeks, sticky with sweat and spit and Satoru feels like he’s suffocating, nose buried as deeply as the rest of him in Yuuji’s crease. He can’t draw in a full breath, can’t smell or taste anything that isn’t Yuuji, and he’d happily suffocate here but he hasn’t gotten his dick in yet and he’s determined to experience the heaven of Yuuji’s body at least once before he dies.

Pulling away with a ragged gasp, Satoru drags the back of one hand across his slick chin and hooks the thumb of the other into Yuuji’s soft rim. “So wet for me, baby,” he coos, and the tips of Yuuji’s ears burn scarlet but he doesn’t try to move away when Satoru pulls his cheek to the side so he can admire how thoroughly he’s ruined him.

Yuuji’s hole is bright red and puffy, stretched obscenely by Satoru’s thumb and so sloppy and loose that Satoru can see his insides, pink and tender and shiny-wet. Spit drips, glistening, down the soft, peachy skin of his perineum and the backs of his quivering thighs. Satoru licks at his lips in satisfaction; his mouth feels swollen and sensitive, bruised by his efforts against that pretty hole.

“Shhh,” Satoru soothes when Yuuji begins to shift his weight, shy under the scrutiny as the moment drags on. He strokes his free hand over Yuuji’s side, comforting. “Let Sensei look at what’s his.”

Yuuji makes a sound that’s more of a sob than anything, face hidden in his arms, but goes obediently still. His cock is an angry red between his thighs, leaking freely, but Satoru’s much more interested in his own at the moment. He’s waited long enough.

Satisfied with his inspection, Satoru leans forward again, saliva pooling on his tongue, and spits directly onto Yuuji’s hole. It twitches in response, winking at him, and with a bitten-off curse he presses two fingers inside, burying the mess deep inside of Yuuji, who jolts at the stretch, whining.

“Gonna take me so good,” Satoru tells him, feeling drunk, spreading his fingers wide and shoving his tongue back between them. He doesn’t waste much time opening Yuuji up for his cock, just hooks and drags his fingers until he can move them freely. His tongue teases at Yuuji’s rim, a token distraction from the way Satoru is stretching him, rough and dirty. In minutes he’s sitting up again, reaching past Yuuji for the lube and condoms in the nightstand.

He hasn't stretched Yuuji much, it’ll be a tight fit, but Satoru prefers that anyway. He wants to feel Yuuji being carved open by his cock and he knows by now that Yuuji will take whatever he gives him without complaint. He lets out a happy little sigh at the thought.

He's fumbling with the condom box when Yuuji speaks up.

“...don’t.”

“Mm?” Satoru asks, turning back to look at him. Yuuji’s cheeks are flushed, and not just from arousal. His eyes dart around and he bites at his swollen lip, inexplicably nervous and so so cute.

“Don’t use it. If you don’t want to, I mean.”

“Use…” Satoru trails off, eyebrows flying into his hairline. He waves the packet at Yuuji, the foil crinkling. “You mean this? You don’t want to use a condom, Yuuji? How naughty!”

“‘M clean,” Yuuji mutters. He hides his face in his arms again but continues, embarrassed but determined, “...wanna feel you inside, fillin’ me up.”

Satoru doesn’t consciously make the decision to disintegrate the foil packet but between one heartbeat and the next it’s gone and he’s behind Yuuji again, pouring cold lube into the crack of his ass. He works it inside of him with sharp thrusts of his fingers then wraps his wet hand around his own cock and jerks himself a few times, hissing when his own touch sends sparks over his skin.

Taking a deep breath, he pulls Yuuji back towards him, nudging his hips up against Yuuji’s thick ass, and guides his dick into place.

Inexplicably, he has to pause for a beat, heart clenching in his chest. He’s been dreaming about this moment for longer than he wants to accept and being here now, Yuuji’s wet rim burning against his cock, feels special in a way he doesn’t know how to acknowledge.

Luckily he doesn’t have to figure it out. Yuuji lets out a whimper and pushes his hips back, demanding, and Satoru eases forward, pressing in slowly, watching in awe as Yuuji’s hole swallows the head of his dick. He stops there, overwhelmed, while he and Yuuji groan together.

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Yuuji’s hole is desperate, greedy. It clings to Satoru’s cock, clenching around him, trying to suck him deeper. He’s trying to rock backwards and get more of him but Satoru has already pulled him back too far and he can’t get enough leverage, entirely at Satoru’s mercy.

“Please,” he begs, and Satoru smiles, wicked and cruel.

“Please what, Yuu-jiii?”

Yuuji sobs, squirming in place. He's sweating, his hands fisted in the sheets tightly enough it’s a miracle they haven’t torn. Satoru can see the long lines of muscle in his back and shoulders shifting and straining and he tightens his grip on Yuuji’s hips, holding him in place with a click of his tongue, making sure he can’t get what he wants without asking nicely first.

It takes less than a second for Yuuji to break, and he does it so beautifully.

“Please,” he cries, eyes wet. “Please fuck me. Want your cock.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Satoru sings, but it’s breathless, more of a growl, and he slides his hands up the length of Yuuji’s sweat-slick back to grip at his shoulders and yank him back, hard, onto Satoru’s cock, opening him in one brutal thrust.

Yuuji wails and Satoru drops his head, mouth open, spine curving and toes curling with the sudden immediacy of his orgasm.

That Satoru doesn’t blow here and now is a testament to his own staggering strength of will. Yuuji’s body is wringing at his cock, clenching and unclenching, working desperately to make room for the whole hot length of him. A shudder wracks down his spine, balls tensing and cock jerking, spitting a glob of slick precome deep inside of Yuuji, easing the slide as Satoru draws back and shoves forward again.

Yuuji makes a hurt little sound, shoulders tense under Satoru’s hands. Satoru hushes him but doesn’t stop his hard little half thrusts, face screwed up in concentration. It feels incredible but there’s something not quite right. He shifts his weight and tries again and it’s better but still not perfect.

He watches where his cock is disappearing between Yuuji’s cheeks, watches his hips push up against the plush curve of that gorgeous ass, and he giggles when he realizes what’s happening: Yuuji’s ass is too big to let him in all the way.

“Sensei?” Yuuji asks, lifting his head at the unexpected laughter. “Wha-?”

“Shh,” Satoru tells him, patting at the top of his head. “Sensei will fix it.” He lets go of Yuuji’s shoulders and straightens up, slapping his palm down over Yuuji’s bruised cheek, admiring the way the taut muscle jiggles from the impact. Yuuji shouts but his body clenches up tight around Satoru’s cock, hole spasming hungrily where it’s stretched around him, and Satoru grins and files his response away for future exploration.

For the time being, he strokes his hands down Yuuji’s side, soothing him, and says, “Hold yourself open for me, baby.”

Satoru can see the exact moment Yuuji understands what he’s asking for. The flush returns to his ears and spreads to the back of his neck, spilling down to his shoulders. Despite his embarrassment he doesn’t hesitate or protest, just gets his arms out from under himself and reaches back to grab his ass in shaking hands and spread himself wide around Satoru’s cock. The position leaves his face shoved into the bedding without any kind of leverage and nothing to do but lay there and take what Satoru gives him.

“Good boy,” Satoru purrs, rewarding Yuuji’s slutty, shameless behavior with the praise he’s always been so eager for and smirking at the whimper he gets in response. “So good for me.”

This time when Satoru nudges his hips forward he sinks in and in until Yuuji’s hole, red and shiny and stretched smooth around Satoru’s thick cock, kisses at the base of him.

“Good,” he says again, and then he takes Yuuji by the shoulders and shoves him back onto his cock and fucks.

It’s incredible, so fucking good. Yuuji’s hot and wet inside and he’s clenching and unclenching, strung out and desperate, trying to draw Satoru deeper and keep him there. He never wants to stop, wants to keep going forever, wants to keep Yuuji like this, whining and wet and open for his cock, and come inside of him over and over and over. Satoru pulls at Yuuji’s shoulders, pulls him back into his own vicious thrusts, and on the next fuck in Yuuji howls when the head of Satoru’s cock drags over his prostate.

“Fuck,” Satoru snarls. It feels like Yuuji’s body is milking him, trying to drag his orgasm out of him. He slows his thrusts to a filthy grind, intentionally aiming for that place that’s driving Yuuji wild. “You want it bad, don’t you baby? Want to be filled up with my come.”

Yuuji sobs and nods, mouth open around the moans he can’t seem to stop and red face wet with the first of his tears. The monster in Satoru’s chest roars.

“I’m going to give it to you,” he promises, indulgent, dark. “Gonna come deep in your ass and leave it there, keep you full up forever. Every time you leave my bed, every time you talk to anyone else, you’ll feel me dripping, leaking out of you and down your thighs. You won't ever forget who you belong to.”

Yuuji is fucking gone by the time he finishes speaking, sobbing incoherently and unable to do anything more than try to lift his hips up further, try to entice Satoru deeper. Satoru doesn't disappoint, picking up the pace again, chasing the pleasure that’s burning at the base of his spine. Sweat drips from the ends of his hair, splattering over Yuuji’s heaving back, and the slap of his hips against Yuuji’s ass is almost as loud as Yuuji’s mindless moaning, every drive of his cock into that sloppy hole announced by the wet squelch of lube and his own spilled precome.

It’s getting harder to keep to his rhythm, harder to do anything but drive in and in and in, to bury himself to the hilt in that perfect heat and never leave. His mouth is running without any input from his brain, a constant litany of praise and filth, “So good baby. Made for me, made for my cock, weren’t you? Taking me so fucking well, knew you would,” and Yuuji’s gone nearly silent beneath him, his eyes squeezed shut, tears and drool staining the sheets under his flushed cheek. His cock, slapping wet and sticky against his belly with every one of Satoru’s thrusts, is nearly purple and he's periodically wracked by violent, full-body shudders. He has to be so close it’s agonizing but face-down and with his hands gripping at his own ass so tightly the skin around his fingers is blanched white there’s nothing Yuuji can do to get himself off without disrupting Satoru's pleasure and it’s abundantly clear where Yuuji’s priorities lie.

In the end, it’s this - Yuuji’s willingness to not just take but to give - that hurls Satoru over the edge.

“Yuuji,” he chokes out. He tears his cock from Yuuji’s body and Yuuji reacts immediately, letting out a startled little cry and trying to chase after him, his hole puffy and gaping. Satoru steadies him with one hand and pushes the head of his cock right up against that ruined rim, jacking himself desperately. “So good, waiting for me. Let Sensei give you a reward.”

His orgasm slams into him like a freight train, roaring in his ears and searing down his spine in a bolt of lightning chased by fire. His eyes fight to close but he keeps them open, needing to watch as his cock thickens, jerks, and spits out thick ropes of come. His balls draw up tight, emptying everything he has in long spurts that paint Yuuji’s raw-red hole in strings of tacky white.

Distantly, he’s aware of Yuuji shouting at him, trying to push himself backwards, to get Satoru inside of him again, wailing, “You promised, Satoru, promised it’d be in me please, please,” and it’s true, he had promised to fill Yuuji up. Scrabbling blindly at Yuuji’s hips, he drives himself forward, burying his cock, his come, deep in Yuuji’s ass where it belongs. He drapes himself over the younger man’s shuddering back and bites at his shoulder, hips driving forward mindlessly, rutting like a dog as his cock spits the last few globs of his come directly into Yuuji’s overworked body.

Satoru’s return to earth is gradual, the buzzing along his nerves slowly giving way to a languid sort of warmth he associates with only the most dick-wrecking of orgasms. He nuzzles into the salty-sticky skin under his face and hums, feeling fucked-out and fuzzy in the best of ways.

Yuuji is sprawled out beneath him, hands still trapped between their hips. He's soaked in sweat and heaving in air like an overworked racehorse, seemingly unbothered by Satoru's weight.

Satoru hums and kisses up the back of Yuuji's neck, the skin still scarlet with exertion and arousal and - he jolts upright in alarm, pulling his dick from Yuuji who whines a protest but doesn't otherwise react. 

"Yuuji!" Satoru gasps, shoving at the younger man's shoulder, trying to get him to turn over. Yuuji blinks dazedly up at him, brows furrowing a little, but doesn't move.

"Wha?"

"You didn't come!" Satoru whines. "That's not fair! I want to make you come so hard you never even look at anyone else ever again!"

The fading flush in Yuuji's cheeks flares back up with a vengeance. "I wouldn't look at anyone else no matter what, Sensei," he promises, earnest, but his eyes keep flitting away from Satoru’s face and he's shifting a little, squirming like he's uncomfortable.

Or embarrassed. Satoru’s nostrils flare, sensing blood in the water, and he ignores the way Yuuji's declaration makes his heart skip in favor of this sudden revelation. "Yuuji," he says slowly. The smile that crawls across his face is wicked. "Did you come already, baby?"

Yuuji whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, but nods.

"You kept your hands where I told you to, right? You were a good boy for me, weren't you?" He plays up his confusion and Yuuji’s eyes fly open, rushing to reassure him.

"I was!" he promises, fervent, "I was good but I-"

"But what, Yuuji?"

Yuuji is squirming again, mortified, and Satoru is shocked and delighted to see moisture beading back up along his lashes. "You bit me and I just…y’know. On my own."

"On your own," he echoes, and Yuuji nods wretchedly. Satoru sighs, adoring, and reaches out to card his fingers through his sweaty pink hair. Despite his embarrassment, Yuuji leans eagerly into the touch and Satoru’s smile softens. "What a delight you are! We're going to have so much fun together, Yuuji-kun. A lifetime of it."

Golden eyes fly open, shocked. "You meant that?" he asks, his overworked voice breaking in the middle. "About dating me and m-m-maa-"

"Marrying you?" Satoru sniffs, draping himself over Yuuji’s back again. His body is heavy still, boneless, and he's ready to bask in the post-nut haze now that he knows Yuuji’s dick isn't going to fall off so soon after he staked his claim on it. "I don't say things I don't mean."

"You say things you don't mean all the time," Yuuji tells him, but he’s settling back down onto his belly, body swiftly going lax again. "Still, if you say you mean it I'll believe you. I wanna be with you too."

He's so matter of fact about it, and Satoru kisses at his shoulder and then at his cheek to avoid having to answer around the bright bubble of happiness swelling in his chest.

Yuuji has been waiting for him, patient while Satoru sorted out his own feelings and what he wanted. Satoru will make sure to reward that faith, today, and every day for the rest of their very long lives.

"Go to sleep, Yuuji," he says eventually. "I believe I remember promising to let you choke on my cock later."

Yuuji’s response is a quiet snore and Satoru can't help the fond little smile that pulls at his lips and settles warm in his heart. "Obedient as always, hm? We're going to be very happy together, Yuuji."

It's a promise, and they are.