Chapter Text
Best friends, lovers, soulmates? Words couldn’t define what they were, not in Suguru’s head at least. Just two strong personalities clashing against each other. Shoes squeaked against the glossy flooring of the court, basketballs bounced up forward, and fists clenched. Suguru was especially heated, cheeks flushed and face burning up with anger.
“What? You gonna cry?” Satoru teased, strolling over as he dribbled the ball effortlessly.
“You wanna take this outside, Toru?” Suguru growled as he lifted a thumb towards the metal double doors.
“Not unless you want to.”
And with that, a loud whistle was blown and they were shooed out of the gymnasium. Both boys casually strolled down the sidewalk, hands in pockets as Satoru blabbered about anything and everything. Night was softly settling in, and so was the bite of a fresh winter breeze creeping through their fists.
“What an idiot…Didn’t even bring a jacket.” Suguru softly chuckled, zipping his own up and taking his dark strands out of the hood. Meanwhile, Satoru’s teeth clattered back and forth. The too-often shrug of his shoulders, hands being shoved in pockets so deep it’d seem he was trying to put a hole through them. He was cold, freezing even.
“Now who’s gonna cry?” Suguru grinned, flicking his now pink nose.
“Shut up, I‘ll have to stay out here all night.”
A long pause followed.
“Why?..”
“You know exactly why Suguru!” Satoru paused to let out an amused laugh, his breath swirling into the cold air as he huffed. “Arguing with my ‘clan’ again, those bastards are crazy if they think they can control everything I do!” Satoru yelled, taking exaggerated steps. “The second I mention independence, it’s like requesting word vomit from them.” He muttered with an eye roll. “Well I better get comfy, Should I choose that bench?” Satoru said it with an almost unbothered grin, taking his right hand out of the pocket and pointing at a creaky wooden disaster. But Suguru could tell. He could tell it was a facade, over-examining the slight glint of worry that flashed in Satoru’s pupil. Then, his vision turned back to the makeshift bed. Splinters were pulled from too much tension, and icicles formed all around it. The way he said it so casually was enough evidence to know just how often he ran away from home—or got kicked out. Snow and flakes of misery decorated the wood, no one would even sit on that thing let alone sleep there.
“Satoru.”
“What?”
“Stay at my place tonight.”
As tired Suguru was of constantly having Satoru there, he also didn’t want his best friend on the news tomorrow morning, dead of pneumonia.
“You sure? I’ll take up your bed and eat all your snacks.”
“I’m sure.”
With a sigh, they both made their way to Suguru’s place. The house was definitely homey. It was decently sized, and a small but beautiful garden welcomed them behind the weakened gates. He’d seen it a million times. But now the petals were close to frozen and even the prickly rose thorns didn’t stand a chance. The lights inside were still on, but not without a soft flicker.
Satoru observed the interior from the window, curiously peering in to see if they had bought any snacks. Meanwhile, Suguru fumbled with his keys, chewing his bottom lip at the thought of them possibly having to share a bed. Due to how much of a brat the white-haired imbecile was, he often didn’t even enjoy sleeping on the floor and wanted to join in.
Every. Single. Time.
Satoru shamelessly pranced in and raided the fridge, even having the nerve to shove past Suguru. Blissfully unaware of anything but food, he immediately tossed a frozen tray of steamed beef dumplings into the microwave and set his feet down on the circular, wooden dining table. Staring at Suguru with that teasing smile.
“Welcome home, bastard.” Suguru gruffly muttered. He begrudgingly stood up, tiredly making his way towards the storage closet in the hallway. It was routine. Open the closet, grab his favorite blanket and two pillows, unroll a thin mattress onto the wooden floor beside his own bed, and then hear Satoru whine all night about it not being comfy.
Stars scattered throughout the sky outside, the cold breeze giving Satoru a bite of flashbacks. He gestured for Suguru to close the window, since having even a slight crevice open was bothering him. Just like any inconvenience did. It was clear just how comfortable he was around him. Suguru groaned, yet he got out of the bed with another kind of obedience—the kind you find in a dog. He sealed it shut, biceps flexing softly as he tightened the seal, ensuring not even a wisp escaped. But he felt eyes on him, a pair of curious, menacing pupils zeroing in on his body.
Satoru was looking again.
Good. Because it was exactly why he had his shirt off, and why he even bothered working on his arms the past few summers. One of the things Suguru’s been desperately wanting to check off his bucket list—choking Satoru with his bicep. It’d feel surreal. Watching his face get all scarlet, then a deep burgundy until it turned purple. Teeth biting down on his bottom lip, hitting his arm with fast, gentle taps that signaled it was getting serious.
But he knew it’d never happen any time soon.
“Get off me Suguru!” He’d whine, yet make no effort to move beside a few useless wiggles, only digging himself deeper into the knot. The muscle would tighten further with each movement, his chiseled jawline pressed up in between Suguru’s lower and upper arm. They would both enjoy it. Wouldn’t they? Or was this another sick fantasy of Suguru’s that he just paints out to be Satoru’s as well—so he can live with the fact that only he can think of things so lewd, so disgusting?
It was too late to be biting the skin of his now-ruby lips and thinking about things like this, especially when Satoru was right there, being a grouch about his sleeping arrangements. Per usual.
“If anything’s uncomfortable it was that god awful bench you picked outside of my house.”
“But Suguru-“
“You’re too ungrateful for your own good, do we need to call a professional spanker?”
In this case, they’d be calling Suguru himself.
With a pout, Satoru tightly gripped the hem of his thin blanket and pulled it up to his chin.
“It’s not fair! How come you get to have all this space and I get a mattress that smells like piss!”
“Well it’s my damn house.” Suguru replied, right now he wanted nothing more but to rail the attitude out of him. “And did you forget? You’re the one that pissed yourself during movie night in it!”
He held his breath for a moment, too harsh?
“Besides, two people can’t fit in this bed, we’re too tall.”
“I’m not that big!” And before he knew it, Satoru was up. The collar of his pajama set unbuttoned, and it was a few sizes too big on him, swallowing him softly. Clutching onto his white pillow, he kicked off his slippers and practically flew into the bed. The sight was undeniably gorgeous. A blue-eyed pretty boy with milky hair was currently cuddled up into his side. The pale moon reflected a scarce but noticeable hue of blue onto his delicate skin, it looked so soft. Suguru wanted to touch it. Badly. But would he ever show that? Never.
“Off me, Satoru!” It didn’t take much for them to get into a tumble, at all. Hair was pulled and slaps were landed, since when did these Jujutsu sorcerers fight like little kids? Or were they just going easy on each other?
At least they got to touch each other's skin. It was their ulterior motive after all—and they wouldn’t wanna damage it.
“Then let me sleep here!”
“Fine!”
As the night carried on at an agonizingly slow rate, audible, high in pitch whimpers elicited from Satoru’s sweet mouth. Arms wrapped around Suguru’s toned waist, face burrowed into his side deep, and a leg intertwined with his. Satoru was getting overly comfortable. But the sleep deprived boy couldn’t bring himself to move.
Just as his eyelids fluttered shut, Satoru tightened his grip to an almost-suffocating angle. His cock was begging to come out—turning a pale shade of red when he subconsciously ground himself onto the already struggling Suguru. The tips of their bulging manhoods were rubbing up against each other, the little holes inside aching.
“What do you even think you’re doing?..” He grumbled, roughly grabbing a handful of his ivory strands and pulling him off. But when Suguru saw those sleepy little tears well up inside his eyes like waves of sapphire, they both knew the final answer. It was a look known all too well. Suguru never really took it to heart, especially when Satoru was exhausted. He tended to cry about anything around these times. But it always ended up worrying him, no matter how often it occurred. They were isolated—together as one, away from the jeering eyes of the outside world. So he wouldn’t hesitate to comfort Satoru. Caught off-guard, Suguru cleared his throat softly and motioned him back into his chest.
“J-just don’t move too much all right? I have things to do besides annoy people and go shopping all day, unlike someone.” Despite the insult, which would usually get him an elbow to the side, Satoru dove into his toned chest. And as if Suguru’s house was haunted and the ghosts were horny, of course his room specifically felt scorching hot, leading to a sticky, sweaty tangle of limbs. Despite the viscous temperature outside. How did it get so hot in here? Were they the horny ones?
“Nm..I don’t like it..” Murmured Satoru, the tip of his nose nuzzling against Suguru’s sensitive nipple through the thin sweater.
“Get off me, you bum.” Suguru groaned, shrugging away the mewling angel that landed upside down on the now abandoned mattress. He looked up at Suguru, looking as pitiful as ever. Abs were glistening in sweat and shamelessly toned. Satoru wanted to pretend he wasn’t looking, but he didn’t care anymore. He was to the point of exhaustion.
“Just get back in bed, show off.”
“Watch your mouth,” meaning that if Satoru kept complaining, he’d have an icicle up his ass. But he’d probably like that.
Bed sheets wrinkled softly under long limbs and sweat. Even Satoru abandoned the pajama’s, leading to both men in boxers. With nothing but a koi fish amigurumi between
them. Satoru looked down at the black and white stitched fluff, the yarn intertwined together. It was a random thing, something that looked so insignificant yet had so much meaning behind it. The equal mix of colors throughout, upper body scaled black, underbody evenly distributed with patches of white. It was a gift, his gift.
Back when Satoru was cramped up in his room, fumbling with crochet hooks—he wanted to give Suguru something homemade for his birthday. He was a firm believer that those things had more meaning, who knew he—out of all people, could get all physiological? Any traces of straight back posture were decreasing at a constant rate, immediately bringing him pain. He had to go through complete hell to make the damn amphibian. Maybe Satoru could have bought one from the store, claim it was made from him—then watch Suguru cherish it with all his heart. The guilt from the thought alone overwhelmed him. He couldn’t lie to Suguru like that, not one of the few people he ever let in.
After days of practice and finger aching work, he had created a decent sized creature. With floppy gills and a singular little line as a mouth, it looked cuter than ever, distracting even him from all the imperfections.
The colors just felt so intimate.
It was just black and white, what was the issue? Why was he getting so worked up over it? He wanted to blurt out something stupid like, “Look it’s our child.” Just for another decibel of that quiet, hoarse scolding he gets only when Suguru really needs his beauty sleep. It sounded like a free whimper audio if he was being honest. Like the ones where he jerks off to, when he thinks he’s all alone. Hand moving from steady to fast, protected by nothing but the thin barrier of the comforter, as if he didn’t spend forever looking for which one sounds the most similar to Suguru’s voice. His right hand slithering under the blanket first, then his pants, then his boxers, then his hole. Sweating, hands cramping up, veins feeling like they were gonna pop out themselves if he didn’t calm down. It was a common occurrence for him every night, especially after a long day of mocking everyone around him. Casual whispers trembled out of his lips, “S-suguru..” “Ngh..G-gonna cum..! Suguru!”
Then he cleaned up and got coffee with Suguru the next day.
—- ★
Feeling bored, and annoying, Satoru poked his nose up against the tip of Suguru’s.
“Are you still awake?” He said, a little too confidently even, but how couldn’t he? When he noticed the slight twitch of Suguru’s eyes and the kind of furrow in his brow that you only get when you have days of stress knotted up deep inside you.
“What could you possibly want from me now?”
There it was.
That hoarse murmur, filled with begrudging irritation. The kind where despite how annoyed he is, he’d still end up doing whatever crazy task was asked of him.
And Satoru’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt him to the core.
“What time is it? I’m not even sleepy!” Satoru whined, stretching the ends of his sentences longer than Suguru’s cock.
“4 in the morning..” Suguru managed to murmur, carelessly plopping a hand splat onto the middle of Satoru’s face. He’d do anything to get him quiet. Even if it meant choking him with his bicep.
“Let go..”
“Then stop moving and spewing nonsense every second I fall into sleep.”
“Fine.” Satoru said it as if he had something up his sleeve, as if he was trying to make himself seem a lot more irritated than he actually was. You could practically hear the grin, Suguru didn’t have to bother looking to know.
But Suguru truly couldn’t be bothered, not when exhaustion was lying this heavy on his eyelids. With one strangled snore, he was out like a light, the same bicep now splayed across Satoru’s shirtless chest. Meanwhile, Satoru continued to complain about how the room was feeling increasingly hot. He sounded like a lunatic—talking to someone asleep in such a loud tone.
“My boxers are practically sticking to me! Suguruuu!..” Satoru tugged on his arm, leading to Suguru furrowing his eyebrows and cursing him.
“Go and deal with the thermostat then, idiot.”
“I’m scared.” Liar.
A long sigh erupted from his throat.
“Go to hell.” Suguru murmured begrudgingly, shrugging Satoru off and walking down the hall to fix the temperature. But all Satoru could think about and wanted to think about was how big he looked through his boxers. Especially with the outline of his massive cock peeking through, it was a beautiful sight to behold.
And left little to the imagination.
“There. Now please let me sleep, honey.”
Satoru let go of the bottom lip he didn’t even know he was biting. Did Suguru just call him that? Well—he said it, got back into bed, and went back to snoring as if nothing happened. Next to him, the pale-haired man was shocked to the core. He wished he recorded that. It wasn’t entirely new when Suguru incorporated a slight pet name, especially when he just wanted Satoru to shut up and leave him alone. Or did Suguru only say that because he knew it would make Satoru get all quiet? With an audible huff, he crossed his arms and turned his back to Suguru, trying to get himself to fall asleep despite the petty anger. The scarce red on his normally pink lips was a result of him chewing on them. But now they were upset and pushed out in a pout. Was he playing with his feelings now? What kind of sick method was that? A few moments later, he felt two strong arms slither around his waist and tighten. Then a warm pair of lips on the side of his neck. Suguru was sweaty, toned, hard, and pressed up against him. He could feel the bulge rubbing against his ass, as if it was trying to slither its way into his hole as well.
“Suguru,” Satoru breathed out, reaching out and clutching onto his arm as Suguru wrapped a strong hand around his neck and ground harder. Did Suguru know that he wanted this the entire time? Or was this a sick revenge for not letting him sleep? Or worse, it was a wet dream.