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There are times when Gojo wants to pinch Megumi’s cheeks and poke him and make him scowl. It’s all his way of showing love, as he explains to Geto when Mister Unfun tells him to quit it.
There are also times when he wants to teleport his adorable pupil in the middle of the farthest forest available to his power – like now, as Megumi bangs open the entrance door downstairs and makes both Gojo and Geto jump in their skin.
“Well, I don’t see anyone here!” The brat exclaims loudly. “I guess nobody’s doing things they shouldn’t do in the open when three impressionable teenagers are living in this house.”
Geto rises from Gojo’s lap, wiping his lips. Gojo reflexively grips him by the arm and gets a reproachful frown.
“There are actually two adults here and they weremfnghlf–” Gojo starts shouting back before Geto muffles him.
Gojo throws a pouting glare at Geto. This is unfair. It’s his house. They’re upstairs. Megumi can just stay downstairs or, better yet, go take a stroll outside. Teenagers these days don't spend enough time outside.
(Technically, Gojo could have stopped Geto’s palm before it muted him, but he won’t. They’ve never spoken openly about it, but they both know that Gojo won’t ever stop Geto’s hands on him. It’s important that he never remains out of reach.
Not anymore.)
“Go to your rooms, you monkeys!” Megumi shouts from the entrance. “Itadori’s here!”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude!” Yuuji says with the blitheness Gojo knows and loves. “Maybe we can wait at the pachinko parlor?”
“No. You lost six hundred yens already today.” Megumi says in the “you’re a disgrace” tone he usually uses for Gojo.
“I spent six hundred yens.” Yuuji corrects him. “You gotta learn to have fun, Fushiguro!”
Gojo is rather interested in the exchange, but Geto is pulling him to the bedroom – which is technically fine, except that this is Gojo’s home and he’s feeling like the oppressed party in this. He bought this house! He can do whatever he wants in it!
“You don’t love me.” He moans against Geto’s hand.
It comes out at “yudulvmf” but Geto understands anyway. They always understand each other (almost didn’t once when it counted the most. They did, though. And now everything is fine.)
“You’re spoiled.” Geto informs Gojo as he drags him to the bed.
“I’m not spoiled. I’m terribly wronged. I can’t have sex with my own lover in my own home!” Gojo sulks.
Geto sighs with more fondness than real irritation.
“We do have three kids in the house.”
“And they’re old enough to leave honest citizens in peace.” Gojo complains, sliding his hands to Geto’s hips for a bit of moral support.
Geto laughs.
“They’re at the Jujutsu School most of the week. We had to be much more careful when they were younger. You’re just not used to it anymore.”
Thankfully, Geto’s not only playing Reasonman ; he’s already taking off his shirt, unveiling smooth abs and the firm curves of his pecs. The way he undresses, showing off the inner muscles of his arms and the graceful stretch of his torso, is so sexy Gojo decides to unpout on the spot. He doesn’t wait for Geto’s arms to be freed before he pulls him into his embrace, dropping light kisses on golden skin.
Geto laughs again and elbows him affectionately.
“Let me get this off.”
“I’m letting you.” Gojo says innocently. “I’m just appreciating the scenery.”
He kisses a path from Geto’s ribs to his throat and the curve of his jaw, tasting the slight tang of his aftershave and the saltiness of his sweat. It’s familiar in the same way that breathing or seeing is familiar – an organic part of him, carved deep into him. Geto’s heart is beating fast under Gojo's tongue. He might play at being the reasonable one, but they’re too similar in the basest ways for Gojo to be fooled.
Geto throws his shirt away and pulls him for a deeper kiss, all tongue and teeth and a desire sharper than he lets on. Gojo grins at him when they break it off.
“You’re thirsty too.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” Geto smirks back and pulls at Gojo's shirt.
Gojo is too generous not to take it off for him, helping him undo its buttons before he wrestles it off his arms. Geto takes advantage of his busy hands to caress his naked torso, nails brushing across the sensitive skin of his waist to the nub of his nipples. The noise which escapes Gojo is halfway between pleasure, surprise and a bit of performative outrage at being attacked in a position of vulnerability.
Somewhere nearby, something heavy hits a wall. If impacts could have tonalities, this would be the most passive-aggressive thud ever caused by man.
“The children, Geto.”
“Yes, the children. You should definitely keep your voice down, Gojo.”
Geto is far better than him at the “virtuous” thing. He holds the pretence for half a second before his head drops straight to Gojo’s fly, still opened from their previous activities – almost-activities.
Gojo moans shamelessly. Gojo chuckles against his erection and kisses it, fingers clenching on his hips when they twitch.
“I left you hanging, didn’t I? Sorry, Satoru.”
“I can think of a number of ways you can make it up to me.” Gojo suggests breathlessly.
“Do tell.” Geto whispers, dark eyes catching his own.
Gojo’s blood rushes hotter into his veins. He’s smiling so wide that it hurts. Sweat makes his hair cling to his forehead.
“I want you to suck me off,” he says slowly, holding Geto’s gaze. “Then I want to see you come on my fingers. Any objection?”
The heat in Geto’s pitch-black eyes is answer enough. He doesn’t speak, just open his jaw wide to take his whole length.
Gojo expected it – they’ve known each other long enough that they can predict the other’s dirty tricks – but he moans all the same. Quietness has never been his style.
Something hits the wall again. Geto lets out a noise of disapproval distorted by Gojo’s cock inside his mouth. A fresh surge of lust bleeds more of Gojo’s sanity.
“I know, I know, the children." He gasps out. "I’m sure you can make me sh– fffuck –”
Geto’s laughter surrounds him, damp air trembling against sensitive skin. Gojo can’t help but to grab his lover’s face, caressing those severe features. Geto usually looks so respectable that lewdness is twice as erotic on him.
Geto seems to know precisely what goes on in his mind – Gojo does whisper it often enough into his ears – because he throws him a smiling glance as he really starts, swallowing him to the hilt before he pulls back and begins working him with just his tongue and his lips. He knows exactly what Gojo likes and the way to reduce him to a babbling mess: subtle pressures, dragging caresses, and the hot wet clutch of his mouth and throat around Gojo's cock. His fingers slide on his saliva when he uses his hands, obscene noises intertwining with their ragged breathing.
Pleasure swells in Gojo like a tide of heat, wave after wave of tingling madness drowning his nerves and his mind. He can’t stop petting Geto’s face, the dark strands of hair stuck to his sweaty temples, the soft flesh of his ears, the stretched curve of his cheeks and the plump wetness of his lips. He can’t stop chanting his name and half-shaped incoherent praises, bubbly happiness mixing with desire and pleasure.
Geto lets him come on his tongue before he pulls away, somehow managing to look half-dignified as he spits in a handkerchief. Gojo grabs him close as soon as he’s finished and grants him a kiss.
“You swallow those curses all the time and you won’t swallow me.”
“That’s because you’re not work, babe.”
At some point, Megumi has put on some loud indie J-pop. The initiative might be born from passive-aggressive teenagerhood-ness, but it does mask the noise Geto makes when Gojo pins him to the floor.
“So we’re using pet names, now?”
“Any objections?” Geto challenges him, grinning.
Gojo smirks back.
“Let’s make you use more of them.”
“You’re a sap.” Geto laughs.
His laughter hiccups into a gasp once Gojo’s mouth drops low enough, and then he’s soon making those quiet, breathless noises Gojo loves most –
Megumi ends up gracing them with a whole musical afternoon.