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Utahime couldn’t sleep, and if she were being truthful with herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever sleep again, much less soundly. Because every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was him.
His face had barely been distinguishable, half covered by a mask, but his eyes… They’d been like headlights — wide and bright and incapacitating. Momentarily, she’d been stunned by them, because they had reminded her of a pair of electric-blue eyes she was rather taken with nowadays.
It all happened so quickly that her media training didn’t even have a chance to reach the forefront of her brain, to remind her to be polite and welcoming, to make herself open and available to all of her adoring fans. In fact, it happened so fast that her security detail hardly had a second to intercept the man before his blunt fingernails were clawing at Utahime’s shoulder, tearing the thin strap of her crop top clean off her body and her hand from Gojo’s. He’d been on her opposite side closest to the curb, scanning for danger street-side. It hadn’t been his duty to head off a possible threat from any of the alleyways they passed. No, that responsibility had fallen on Toji’s shoulders, but he’d been distracted by a swarm of paparazzi…
Gojo had brooded and stewed about it the whole way back to their hotel, blaming himself for Toji’s slip up. Occasionally, he had torn his cold glare away from the window to peer down at Utahime with all the softness and warmth in the world. He’d check on her, adjust the lapels of his suit jacket tighter around her shoulders and chest to ensure her modesty was maintained even within the confines of the car then immediately return to glowering out at the street. It was a sloppy ruse he’d put on, his feigned calmness in the wake of chaos, but Utahime was no fool. She had seen his jaw furiously flexing from the corner of her eye, felt his grip on her knee bordering on painful.
He never let Utahime see more than an inkling of his rage, but once they’d all returned to her hotel suite, Utahime had heard the slightly muffled sound of Gojo reaming Toji out in the common area while she showered. Ultimately, Toji had been retired to his own room, and Gojo had elected to post Geto and Nanami outside her door while Gojo himself nearly paced a hole through the carpet of the common area. Utahime had heard him shuffling around all night, heard him puttering about in the kitchenette. Anxiety and insomnia were clearly getting the best of him, and they’d done quite a number on Utahime, too. So, to her, it seemed only logical that they wallow in their unease together.
As she crawled out of bed and padded toward her door, Utahime tried not to think about how she was really just seeking Gojo out for comfort. He’d been a beacon of solace for her since the day they’d met all those years ago. It brought a fond smile to her face now to think that a man who’d made her agent visibly unsettled was able to make her feel so safe and protected.
Admittedly, Gojo was quite the sight to behold. He was freakishly tall by average standards, covered in tattoos, hair as white as snow and eyes so bright blue they practically glowed, and as if his appearance alone weren’t enough to ward people off, he had a rap sheet so long that any person in their right mind would’ve turned him away, especially for a bodyguard position for one of Japan’s most coveted idols, and Utahime’s agent had tried to do exactly that.
But Utahime had known she wanted him the second their eyes met — as her bodyguard, of course. There had just been something about the way he had looked at her — Iori Utahime, the person, the human being. Not idol Utahime, not the nasty wound marring her face that was still fresh at the time and had been the catalyst to her search for better security. No, he’d just looked at her and smiled so genuinely. He’d been cordial and gentlemanly, which Utahime would learn after years of working together was just his professional persona as uninhibited Gojo was an absolute menace, and though they often argued about how strict he could be whenever she was out in public, Utahime knew that he truly had her best interest in mind.
That was how he’d become the head of her security team. He was a master strategist with a keen eye. He always knew the safest and speediest routes to take in every venue, always knew which points of access to post his men at, which formations would protect her most effectively given the nature of her outing. Gojo didn’t like to talk about it, but Utahime knew those were skills he had honed as a yakuza. Despite hitting the gym every morning, Gojo still had a lean build, and she was sure fifteen-year-old Gojo had likely been much scrawnier when he was initiated, scouted for his brain rather than his brawn.
It had been different for Toji and Geto. They’d been brought on for muscle. Gojo had worked more closely with Nanami — a real deal tactician, to hear Gojo tell it, and after all three of them — Toji, Geto, and Nanami — had served their time in prison and were on the hunt for legitimate work, Utahime had hired them — no questions asked. She trusted Gojo’s judgment completely, and if he said that these men who had been incarcerated for all manner of illegal activities were loyal and trustworthy, then Utahime believed him. Thus far, he hadn’t failed her, and she didn’t anticipate he ever would despite knowing that he probably felt like he had after today’s events.
When she eased into the common area, Utahime found Gojo back in the kitchenette. He was frenziedly stirring a mug of something, which Utahime could only assume was hot chocolate. She knew he loved it and which brand specifically, so she made sure her team kept it stocked in all of her hotel suites. He had his back to her and was bare from the waist up, only wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.
Utahime sucked in a deep breath as she quietly moved to lean against the wall beside her door and just watched him. She couldn’t help but to stare at the way the muscles in his shoulders rippled with each stir, his tattooed triceps flexing. His hair was damp, probably from a shower, but Utahime’s favorite thing, the thing her eyes ultimately settled on was the way the band of his designer boxer briefs peeked out from the waist of his sweatpants, the elastic snug around his trim hips.
They’d seen each other in various states of undress before. It started out as innocuous little things like mid-set costume changes and fittings for a designer’s entire seasonal line, and as they grew more comfortable with each other, it bled into their leisure time. Gojo’s security assignment was full-time, so he essentially lived with her whenever she was on tour or simply traveling. It was only natural that he’d catch a glimpse of her in a silk nightie at some point, but the lavender number she was wearing now was intentional, purposeful.
Sensing her presence, Gojo peeked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey. Everything okay?” he asked as he abandoned his mug to make his way over to her.
“I could ask you the same,” Utahime replied as she reached for his right hand upon approach, brushing the pad of her thumb over his tender knuckles.
Gojo huffed a laugh, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he stared down at their clasped hands. “Pummeling some handsy creep’s face ain’t gonna break me, Hime,” he said matter-of-factly.
Utahime smiled at him knowingly. She knew Gojo could take a beating. She’d seen him and Geto sparring together when she had done a three-night stint in Bangkok some years ago. All four of them had taken off to the boxing ring a couple of blocks from their hotel the second they got a bit of free time, and Utahime had tagged along just to watch, to see what these burly men she’d come to know as her friends could do. Geto, Nanami, and Toji had all done a number on Gojo that day, so the swollen scrapes and purplish-black bruising that dotted his knuckles from the absolute pounding he’d given her crazed fan a few hours ago was nothing.
“You didn’t answer my question, though,” Gojo reminded her, his eyes looking all over her face for any indication that something might be wrong.
Sighing contentedly, his hand in hers bringing her immeasurable peace, Utahime let a ghost of a smile play on her lips. She only held his gaze for a second before she let her eyes wander, taking in the mountains and valleys of his pale abs. “I’m fine, but I could be better,” she answered coyly.
Her eyes flickered back up to his, and she intentionally kept them half-lidded, peering at him from beneath her long, sooty lashes. She watched him inhale an unsteady breath and anxiously lick his parted lips. “Stop looking at me like that,” he commanded, though his voice was barely above a whisper. He shook his head as if to ward off all the lascivious thoughts she knew he was having, because her brain had conjured up quite a few itself. Her heart sank a bit, though, when he pulled his hand from hers and shoved both of them into the pockets of his sweatpants.
“Like what, Satoru?” she asked, feigning innocence as she batted her lashes at him.
She tried not to smile as she watched him fight back a full-body shiver, one hand withdrawing from his pocket to scrub nervously down his face. “Like you wanna eat me alive. And don’t call me that. You know I…” he trailed off on a swallow as if he’d gulped down the words he wanted to say.
Utahime grinned at him. “What? What do I know, Sa-to-ru?” she needled, emphasizing every syllable. She knew damn well the effect that his given name rolling off her tongue had on him, adding to the intensity of her heavy flirting.
“Utahime…” Gojo breathed, tension wrought all over his body. He leered at her, imploring her to behave with his eyes alone, but Utahime didn’t miss the way the crotch of his sweatpants had started to tent.
“You saved me today,” Utahime practically purred as she cozied up to him, pressing her tits against his abs. The twenty-five centimeter difference in their height was such that it positioned her mouth right over the swell of his pecs, and Utahime couldn’t help but to blow her cool breath across his overly warm skin.
Gojo shuddered again, looking everywhere but directly at her as he placed his hand on her shoulder. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pink scratch marks her stalker had left on her, the dainty strap of her nightie slipping down her arm as he did. “I know. That’s my job,” he plainly replied, battling to keep his fluster from seeping into his tone.
“I know,” Utahime said, keeping one hand behind her back as she reached up with the other to trace over the badly faded signature tattooed on his left pec. He’d explained to her once that it was an old girlfriend’s name, and ever since then, Utahime had hoped he’d cover it with hers someday. “It’s just… I’m really glad you were there. You’re so much bigger and stronger than me,” she continued, taking the liberty of running both of her hands up his arms then. She pointedly squeezed his muscles every so often, making him squirm where he stood. “And there’s just no way the others could’ve fended him off like you did —”
“Utahime,” Gojo interrupted with an authority in his voice that made her squeeze her thighs together, “we can’t do this.”
Utahime leaned back against the wall, and the sigh of relief Gojo let out was loaded. “And just why not?” she pouted, arching her back so that her barely covered breasts posed as much of a temptation as possible. She smiled and tucked her lower lip between her teeth when she saw Gojo’s eyes flicker down to them, lingering a bit longer than he clearly knew was appropriate when he caught a glimpse of her pebbled nipples protruding through the silken fabric.
He managed to steel himself, though, and fix her with an incredulous look, the same one he gave her every time she suggested doing something he deemed too risky for someone as famous as her. “You’re my boss, for one, and two, idols can’t —”
“I don’t give a shit what idols can and can’t do, Gojo. I’m a grown woman with needs that I should be able to satisfy however I please, and don’t think for a single second that I don’t know just how badly you want to satisfy me.”
There was a tense silence wherein the two of them simply stared each other down, a challenge hanging in the air between them — Utahime daring Gojo to give in, and Gojo bidding himself to back away, to put necessary space between them. It was Utahime that ultimately struck first, reaching out to rake her fingernails up his thigh and palm at the bulge beneath his pants.
Utahime heard him hiss and groan out a curse as his fist slammed into the wall beside her head, but it was the massive hand that swooped up to wrap around her throat that made her squeak in surprise, her eyes widen in shock. Gojo was millimeters from her now, his hot breath puffing over her lips. He’d slotted a knee between her legs, and Utahime could feel his cock hard and insistent against her thigh. His entire body trembled with the effort of keeping his desire at bay, but Utahime could see it roiling in his once aquamarine eyes that now smoldered sapphire.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, you know that?” Gojo said behind gritted teeth, pupils blown wide as they bored holes into her own.
Utahime giggled and watched as the sound crumbled his defenses, music to his ears even more so than her singing voice. She leaned forward incrementally, making sure her lips brushed against his as she retorted, “Is there any better way to go out?”
Gojo veritably growled as he surged forward to bridge the gap in the minute space that remained between them, smashing his lips against hers. Utahime keened at the force of it, giving his cock another squeeze as her other hand lifted to tangle in his downy hair. Gojo had already tilted his head, nipping at her lower lip and probing into her mouth with his tongue, and Utahime let him, her body completely pliant under his.
She was so mesmerized by the softness of his lips and the taste of sugar and cocoa on his tongue that she hardly noticed the hand around her throat slide lower to pull her nightie down around her ribcage. They were both starving for air, but Utahime wasn’t altogether grateful when Gojo parted from her lips to sear kisses down her neck. In her own daze, she mouthed at the hard line of his shoulder and picked up her pace stroking his cock until Gojo moved both of his hands down to her hips.
He lifted her with ease, like she weighed absolutely nothing and positioned himself between her legs right where he belonged. Gojo ground his pelvis into hers, and Utahime smirked when she heard him groan as her bare cunt dampened the crotch of his pants, not a stitch of panties between them. Gojo slid his palms under her ass, effectively hiking her nightie higher and dipped his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. Utahime gasped, arching her chest into him as she clung to his shoulders.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and basked in the feeling of his tongue swirling around her sensitive nipples, his teeth biting at her delicate flesh and surely leaving marks and bruises in his wake. This was everything she’d ever wanted — to be this close to him, to be ravaged by him, to give herself so intimately to the only person who had ever made her feel completely safe and protected at all times. But the way he was worshiping her chest and mumbling nearly incoherently about how perfect her tits were just wasn’t enough.
“Satoru,” Utahime breathed, already frenziedly attempting to kick his pants down his thighs with her heels, “I need you to fuck me now.”
Gojo didn’t even speak as he shifted all of Utahime’s weight onto one forearm and hooked his other thumb beneath his waistband, tugging both his sweatpants and his boxer briefs down at once. Utahime whimpered when she felt his hot cock bob free and slap against her cunt, smearing precum over her folds. Gojo fisted his shaft and slowly, achingly rubbed his tip between them, paying special attention to her swollen clit. Utahime trembled at the sensation, whining as white-hot pleasure ignited in her belly. All she could do was hold onto him and let him have his way with her, her head lolling forward to rest against his.
“So wet for me,” Gojo groaned.
“Always,” Utahime replied as she canted her hips into his touch, chasing her own pleasure. Gojo worked with her, hissing and grunting all the while. She knew it had to be too much for him, but he seemed to be ignoring the overstimulation in favor of getting her off just like this. “So close…” Utahime choked within a matter of minutes, grinding her sodden cunt against him like mad.
“That’s it,” Gojo said against her lips, nodding. “Come for me.” And Utahime did, body quaking and walls clenching like a vice around nothing. Gojo eased her through it, sucking on her earlobe as he dipped his tip just inside her. It only served to make Utahime wail, reigniting her pleasure each time as it gave her body what it desperately wanted to clamp around.
Utahime felt Gojo shiver as he fed his cock inside her still spasming cunt. “So tight…” he murmured, and Utahime tried to relax her muscles, to make space for him. She was dripping wet and more than ready to take him, but she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d had sex nor if she had ever taken girth quite like his.
Gojo was being incredibly patient with her, easing in little by little, and once he was fully seated, Utahime felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She didn’t think she’d ever been stuffed so full. She could hardly breathe, but it was all completely worth it knowing that it was Gojo’s cock she was impaled upon.
“‘S okay?” Gojo panted, sweat dripping from his forelock onto her face. Utahime nodded as she kissed him, licking into his mouth and moaning for more. Gojo gave it to her, so sure of his actions now as he set an easy pace. Utahime could only wrap herself tighter around him, little more than along for the ride as she lost herself in him.
Utahime didn’t know how much time passed, her brain swimming with the sound of her cunt squelching around him and the scent of sex mixed with Gojo’s musk hanging thick in the air. All she could really focus on was Gojo whispering sweet nothings and reassurances to her, the tendrils of pleasure winding up her thighs.
“Fuck, Hime. I’m gonna —”
“Inside me,” Utahime cut him off, certain of exactly what she wanted.
Gojo nodded. “Touch yourself. Want you to come with me.”
For the first time in their relationship — working or otherwise, Utahime did as he told her to, delving a hand between them to circle around her engorged clit. It didn’t take much for the spark to reignite, Utahime crying that she was close again as she wound her fingers in tighter circles around the sensitive nub. Gojo responded by pounding into her, his balls slapping against her ass, and within a matter of seconds, everything crescendoed.
Utahime’s vision went completely white as her cunt strangled Gojo’s cock, the familiar sensation of warmth blooming in her belly as he spent himself inside her. In the comedown, she sighed contentedly and toyed with the hairs at the nape of Gojo’s neck. His sweaty forehead rested on her shoulder, and once he found the strength to do so, he lifted it to smile at her lazily, cheeks still flushed from the exertion.
“Guess this means I’m fired,” he said, staring at her affectionately.
“Hardly,” Utahime replied as she leaned forward to kiss him. “As a matter-of-fact, I think you’ve earned yourself a promotion.”
Gojo raised his brows at her. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” she reiterated, and between languid kisses, she asked, “How does boyfriend sound?”
Gojo laughed. “Sounds like your agent’s gonna kill me, and a lot of your fans are gonna hate me. But those shippers, or whatever they’re called, are gonna have a fucking field day.” Utahime giggled and nodded her assent. “What’s our ship name again?” Utahime flushed and rolled her eyes to avert her gaze. “Oh, c’mon. I know you know.”
“GoUta,” she sighed wearily as she swiveled her eyes back to him.
Gojo nodded sagely and pulled a face like he was mulling it over. “Gojo Utahime, huh? I like the sound of that.”
Utahime giggled so loudly that she was sure Geto and Nanami heard her from their post outside. Then again, she was almost positive they heard what had happened before, too, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. She didn’t care if the whole world knew what she and Gojo had done, what they were and would become, because all the money and fame on Earth couldn’t buy her the safety and happiness that Gojo Satoru brought her.
There was nothing quite like being caged in his arms, so small in comparison to him that she could hide away from everyone and everything tucked against his chest. When he finally took her to bed, Utahime listened to his steady heartbeat and even breathing. Their collective fear and anxiety from earlier had drained away, leaving peace in its wake, and she relished it knowing that this was the calm before the GoUta storm.