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Caught. A rabbit’s trap laid out for a fox like him. Quick in his in and out, the audacity of grabbing whatever he wanted and not what he needed because a Gojo heir didn’t want for anything. This isn’t even the first time he’s gotten caught: he’s given an empty apology before, bills pressed into one hand while shaking the other. Baby blues pleading innocence.
The thrill was impossible to get rid of.
With enough money and privilege, he could get whatever his petty whims desired, but buying could never equate to stealing it. It didn’t come ribbon-tied with the adrenaline spike once you left the store, your heart kickstarting, thinking they’d sound the alarm.
With time came experience. Experience taught him that security wasn’t nearly paid enough to care about chasing you if you were sneaky about it.
He’d slipped shoes on his feet one time, walked right out with the tag crudely cut out with nail scissors. They hadn’t been expensive, a pair of Adidas others had to work for, unlike the Prada Satoru was gifted at his recent report card.
It got him hard knowing other people had to work for what he could simply steal.
The best one, the one he’d bragged to Suguru about, had been the plug. Glittery and unspecial, shoved up so deep Satoru had feared he’d risk a trip to the E.R, the lube making a mess in his shorts.
Had they known? The way he’d wobbled as he walked, his smile lopsided, a slow drag to the counter as he paid for all the rest. Lube, condoms a size too small, a clit vibrator. All while he’d felt his current fixation snug between his cheeks.
Wondering if they’d have the guts to ask him to empty his pockets. Undress him. Show his hole with the pink gemstone hidden between his cheeks.
“Getting comfortable, brat?”
The slam of a door has his feet, tucked onto the desk in front of him, slam back to the ground.
“You locked the door.” Satoru rolls his eyes even if his nerves are still eager to calm down from how the room shrinks in size, swallowed up by the mass of this guy.
Satoru’s newest nose ring glints under the shoddy TL light as he attempts to read his name.
Fushiguro Toji.
“Is this going to take long?” He kicks against the desk but Fushiguro isn’t rattled. Annoying.
Looking at the guy’s shoddy hair and raggedy scar, money should be the easy way out. So he gets up and slaps a few bills on the table. “This enough to unlock the door?”
Toji doesn’t speak much. He’d locked him in after punching in the employee code, enough to force him into the room, and left. There’s two different, equally shitty chairs, and one creaks as Satoru’s shoved back into it. Toji’s hands are a vice grip around his shoulders and Satoru can’t fight his way back up.
“Sit.”
Like he’s a dog. So he snarls and he bites, cranes his head up to look at him and that’s his first mistake.
Toji yanks the nose-ring straight out of Satoru’s nose and he howls, one hand pressed tight against his face. “Fuck, that hurt!”
“Showing off stolen merchandise?” The guy sneers and the scar pulls his face nasty. “You’re bold, kid, I’ll give you that.”
Satoru glares at him. The chair he’s sitting in feels uncomfortable, sunken in by people fatter than him, uglier than him, with a nasty stain right at the centre. Satoru doesn’t wanna think about it.
“So, what, you’re gonna call my parents now?”
Big deal. His parents will pick up the phone and send Ijichi over to come collect him.
“Why, so they can buy you out of trouble?” Satoru doesn’t like it when Toji grins. “The same trick ain’t gonna work on me twice, kid.”
“Uh, no. Because I’m sixteen and—”
“You’re sixteen?” He likes it even less when Toji rolls the number around like it’s spinning in roulette, waiting for a lucky shot. “Starting your criminal activities a little early, dontcha think?”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “Like I need to steal.”
“You do though, don’t you? Rich brats like you always need a hit when daddy’s approval ain’t cutting it.” Satoru would argue against that, actually. His father’s approval might not mean much to him, but it comes with every report card and every teacher conference. Good job, Satoru. “Hasn’t the cocaine been working for you, Satoru?”
Satoru’s about to argue that molly hits lots better than cocaine does when Toji flashes his own ID back at him. The fucker stole it.
“Angry that a guy like me beat you at your own shitty game?”
“I’m actually more surprised you can read.” Satoru retorts. “Finish the name, if you can.”
“Oh you’re a Gojo, huh.”
Satoru’s stomach quivers at the tone. He is simply so much smaller than him and the space isn’t meant for two people, only carved out for Toji, until Satoru is yet another smudge in this seat.
“That’s right.” His heart rate will slow, he will make it so. “So you better release me.”
The guy laughs. “That’s what all you rich kids think, huh?”
Then the guy grabs him by the back of his neck and slams him straight into the desk. There’s an awful cracking sound, the howl soaked up by the blood that blots out the white papers, hands flinging outwards.
A pencil case takes a nose-dive right off the desk, pens clattering. The grip on his neck grows punishing, tearing another hiss from Satoru’s abused throat.
“Hey now.” Satoru can’t breathe properly. He can’t breathe and this guy keeps leaning in closer, his breath mingling with Satoru’s, the sour stench of whiskey against Satoru’s citrus-sharp fear. “Don’t make a mess for me, sweetheart.”
“Let, let me go—”
He wheezes. His nose is getting clogged and his throat is tasting of iron, all that blood leaking right back where it came from, forced to swallow. “You’re gonna- you’ll regret it…”
When Toji releases his hand against Satoru’s neck so Satoru finally has the space to cough wetly, he realises maybe he’s fucked up. He tries to get up, elbow grease in the blood all over the desk, but Toji slams him back down again.
“Ease up.” He says, as if he isn’t about to act out a porn scenario. “I’m making sure brats like you don’t make my job harder for me. I’m all about teaching life lessons, because it’s obvious your parents didn’t bother.”
“Best I can give you is deadbeat, I’m afraid.” Satoru snarks. “I don’t think you’re in any position to lecture anyone.”
His hands slide down to Satoru’s hip bones, pulling him far enough away from the desk so one hand can slip beneath his legs. Satoru jolts and Toji’s free hand presses between his shoulder blades. “I’m not warning you again. Stay down.”
Toji’s hand is rough as it slides into Satoru’s shorts and he bucks again, “Your hand is cold, asshole.”
Under better circumstances, hands like his would be too impish to even find a clit, much less use it. Satoru could fuck himself on one of his fingers and reach his cervix, he’s sure.
“You’re a girl?”
Toji’s hand slips between his folds, finger pad pressing upwards and oh okay maybe Satoru was wrong about his clit. His traitorous cunt gushes anyway, sensitive to being touched, even if it’s by a neanderthal.
He really needs to get out more.
“Nah.” Satoru says easily, even if his body is trembling. “You’re a fag actually, about to fuck a guy.”
There is a two-beat call of silence that has Satoru wonder if he’s about to be the victim of a hate crime.
“Every hole’s a goal.”
Satoru shudders, revolted. This is worse, actually.
“You’re disgusting.”
It’s at the click of metal when Satoru finally cranes his neck far enough around to find Toji’s fat cock hanging between his legs. “You’re not fucking me with that.”
Toji only raises an eyebrow, amused. “I wasn’t aware I was asking.”
With the ease Toji apparently decides to fuck a teenager, Satoru guesses this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Hell, Satoru could very well be the third one today! Although he’s grossed out by the thought, the size of that thing has him unfortunately interested.
Suguru was right that he had no standards. God. Even this shitty desk is covered in his own blood. The least he could have done is a bed, or a clean surface.
“Your hygiene doesn’t exceed expectations for an underpaid B-grade cop, so yeah your unwashed dick needs a wet wipe.”
Toji snatches a tissue off the desk and swipes it between Satoru’s legs so unexpectedly that Satoru’s teeth click together.
“There.” Toji mocks him as he holds it in front of his face, reeking of his own arousal. “Wet wipe.”
Satoru’s face goes red and furious. “You’re—”
“Disgusting?” Toji finishes for him and makes a show of running the wipe over his dick, making Satoru gag. “You need new material, kid.”
Satoru seethes in his silence, turns his face back on the peeling posters in front of him, the vent that screams every ten seconds. This whole office consists of cheap shit and now Satoru, pants shoved to his ankles, will join that collection.
“Pretty pussy though.” Toji muses and gives it an affectionate pat. "That’s youth for ya.”
“Such a sweet talker.” Satoru snarks. “Is that how you get all the ladies in bed?”
Fuck. He can’t believe this is happening. His nose has finally dried up enough for him to breathe through it, but his mouth still tastes of iron and it makes his tongue feel thick in his mouth. None of his remarks cut as deeply as he wants and it’s unsatisfying.
This man is about to fuck him because he stole a nose ring. Talk about punishment not fitting the crime.
“Nah.” Toji’s grinds his cock against Satoru’s slit, cockhead slipping between his folds while Satoru’s hands slam flat into the desk. He’s teasing, rubbing back and forth, and god— “Just this one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Kids these days really can’t take a joke, huh?”
Toji presses and this time his cockhead breaches Satoru’s cunt by a miserable inch. Satoru hisses, his cunt yawning open wide, never letting the passage ease. Toji’s cock forces him open when he doesn’t move and Satoru doesn’t like how sharp the pain feels, how it shoots through his bloodstream as he rocks forward. Trying to get away from him.
Toji pets a hand down his clammy back and coos. “Too much?”
“You don’t care.” Satoru grits his teeth. The words become barren instead of barbed, hidden behind his tight-lipped grimace. “Just get on with it.”
“That won’t do.”
Toji pulls his hips back until he has space to move, his cock slipping out of Satoru again and the knot in his stomach loosens. “What are you doing?”
“Be patient, brat.”
A hand slips past his hip, fingers curling at his navel, petting him gently. It’s too soft for hands as big as his and Satoru shudders. They rub back and forth over his tummy, as though soothing an upset, then slip further down until they press against his groin. It’s ticklish. It’s vulnerable.
Every time he slips further, rubbing circles into Satoru’s inner thighs, blunt nails scratching over soft skin and Satoru whines into the desk. “Stop.”
“You’re not calling the shots here.”
It tickles in the worst way. His stomach contracts, then his cunt follows suit. Another finger that teases over his folds, until Satoru moans again, a hiccup skipping over wood. “My clit, touch my fucking clit—”
Toji doesn’t. He keeps his finger right where it is, soaking up the heat between his swollen lips, and rubs every bit of slick right back where it came from. There’s a mouth at his nape, teeth sinking into his skin, and it’s so stupid how it works, how his traitorous cunt gushes for this man’s affection.
A security guard is finger-fucking him over his bloodied desk and Satoru’s cunt is sucking him in eagerly.
“I told you—”
But there’s telling and there’s asking and Toji pinches the head of his clit so tight that Satoru yowls. “That hurts!”
All ten thousand nerve endings in his clit alight as Toji pinches him until Satoru goes still, until all he can do is whimper, until Toji kicks his legs further apart.
“Liar.” He says when he finally releases him and Satoru takes in a gulp of air, his own hand slipping down to nurse his poor clit, rubbing feeling back into it. “You’re even wetter.”
“Yeah, well—” Satoru hisses like a cat when Toji takes his hand away, replacing it with his own. This time, he’s gentler and Satoru is suffering trust issues. “I can’t stop it once it’s going, it doesn’t just dry up.”
He uses his finger pad to gently move circles around Satoru’s clit, until Satoru’s knees tremble and his body relies on the desk to hold him up. Nerves fried, tummy weird, not there- not yet—
“A waterfall pussy, then. Sounds kinda hot, kid.”
He’ll never fucking get there.
“God, do you ever shut up?”
Toji’s palm cracks against the side of Satoru’s ass and he bites his tongue so hard it splits. Then, as Satoru whips his head around to demand what the fuck, Toji hits him again. This time his howl is audible and his back trembles. His face feels too feverish and he takes a bet on humiliated first, even if his cunt throbs, clenches on nothing.
“I don’t think you understand the type of position you’re in, brat.” Toji leans in close, hisses it directly into Satoru’s ear. He shudders again. “I’m going to fuck that attitude right out of you.”
Satoru, who knows better, responds, “Good luck trying that.”
So Toji hits him again, strikes the exact same spot he has before, and Satoru jolts. He doesn’t speak, hits him indiscriminately, until his skin throbs and heats beneath every strike, until Satoru’s chewed through his lip, until he yelps.
“Stop, stop—”
He starts leaning forward on his toes, tries to create a distance and instead pulls his skin taught, hearing the whistle of Toji’s hand before it collides with his ass. Five times in succession while Satoru sucks in a breath, stubbornly refusing to beg for anything more at all. His ass hurts and the pathetic little whimper he lets out hurts more.
Toji finally stops and Satoru only notices because he’s rubbing his cock between his bruised cheeks, until his cock presses against his cunt. “I guess I should have known you’d get off on it.”
He’s so wet. Sloppy slick coats Toji’s cock without even breaching his hole like before, making his thighs slippery.
Toji shifts, cock pressing right against his hole again, and Satoru braces himself. He refuses to moan. He refuses to give him the satisfaction of it—
Then Toji’s cock shoves into him in one go and a gasp punches out of him.
“Oh fuck.”
“Feeling good, princess?”
“You’re too fucking big—” Satoru hisses, fingers stretched out and curling over the edge of the table. His hips collide painfully once Toji bottoms out a second time, making him feel the entire length of him in too little time. “Slow down.”
Satoru learns to adjust, finds out that hairbrushes and his dildo do not compare to the girth of Toji’s cock, but his cunt sucks around him and grips tight.
Toji’s rhythm is brutal, not for how fast he is, but for how he draws his hips back and fucks into Satoru as though he needs another hole. He fills him up so well, Satoru’s belly swells and his face swelters. Slow and brutal, one heavy thrust that fills up his cunt so good his toes curl.
He’s whining again.
“Fuck, fuck, ah—”
Then he feels Toji’s heavy sack slapping against Satoru’s thighs. Again. Again.
It’s distracting. It’s starting to feel annoying.
“Can you stop your heavy nut sack from slapping against my thighs? It's throwing me off.”
A hand moves to his throat again, fingers pressing against Satoru’s trachea, crescents upon white.
“I don’t want another bruise.” Satoru warns him and Toji’s grip goes tighter. “Hey.”
“I should fuck a baby into you and get my pension paid out early.”
“Absolutely not!” Satoru screeches but then Toji fucks him so nice and slow that his voice peeters out at the end. He doesn’t fuck like a teenager does, all shallow and rabbit-fast, getting in as much as they can.
No, Toji savours it.
It is unforgiving, almost. How Toji holds him by the hips, a deadlock holding him in place, a slow drag that lets Satoru feel every vein and the entire length of him, before bottoming out like Satoru’s his last joyride. His spine cracks under Toji’s oppressive weight and his legs are trembling and it’s like that every time.
“Teenage pregnancy would look good on you, brat.”
“Everything looks good on me, dog.”
Toji leans in too close again and Satoru catches a whiff of cheap cigarettes and the distinct smell of drinking on the job, a cheaper whiskey that matches his cheap taste. Satoru bets he’s the most expensive thing Toji’s ever touched in his life and that is with the cheap nose piercing he stole.
His teeth nudge at his nape again, making good on Satoru’s insult, and he yelps when Toji finally bites a mark into him. A dog claiming its owner.
Or maybe Satoru’s the rabbit that finds himself torn between his jaws.
“Besides—hah—you wouldn’t be around long enough, pump-and-dump daddy.”
Toji bites him again, lower down his neck this time and Satoru can claim he was mauled, now that it’s impossible to hide it. “See, you already know me so well sweetheart. Made to fit me.”
Then Toji grips his ass again, thumb prints into the earlier bruises, and Satoru braces for another hit that doesn’t come. Instead—
“Fucker.”
It slips to the front of him, the lowest part of him, pad against his clit and finally doing what Satoru asked too long ago. He keens, babbles nonsense and his hand flings uselessly backwards, trying to get him to stop.
Toji laughs. “I’m gonna blow your back out, kid.”
“With that pace? You might pull something.”
Toji isn’t like most men. Doesn’t let Satoru hurt the iron wall of his ego and only pets down his flank as though he means to calm a wild animal. The way his cock keeps fucking inside him has his stomach clench tight and his cunt gush slick, ease the entrance, keep him there. It feels too good for a cheap fuck in some derelict mall, far away from Satoru’s high walls and proper security guards. He lifts his head, tries to talk back, and Toji forces him back down again.
“Why don’t you call me daddy, baby?” Then Toji’s hand is back at his clit again, cooing in Satoru’s ear and fuck he hates him so much. “After all—” Satoru can feel something leak inside of him and that has him kick against Toji’s lead-weight shin. The hornier part of his brain demands to be bred. To let it overtake him. “—You’ll need it soon.”
“Not into age play, sorry.”
“Isn’t it age play when you’re underage?”
“No, we call that rape.”
Toji’s pace is in line with the way he strokes Satoru’s clit just right. Should have expected worse from a man who’s never seen a guy with a pussy before, but Satoru flinches with the force of his orgasm building. Like riding a wave through a storm, you’d think his clit hadn’t seen better action.
(It hadn’t.)
“Is it rape when you’re sucking me in so nicely?”
Satoru can’t deny that much. But hey, a hole’s a hole and Satoru’s is apparently doing excellently with brushes and cucumbers, a beer can cock apparently fits fine too.
“I thought old age—hnn—came with better pick-up lines.”
It doesn’t matter. Or it does, actually, matter a lot when Toji increases the pace— not because Satoru asked for it, not because he wants to, but because his old bones creak and he fucks with the hurried pace of someone needing to get his next meal ticket. Needing to get it over with. But when your dick’s as big as Toji’s, every thrust feels like being hit with a bat right in the gut. Except this one tingles and sets your nerves alight. A bit like a vibrator with its wires crossed, sparking a heart attack or a dead nerve.
Maybe Satoru’s just a masochist.
Satoru squeezes his thighs tighter together, lets Toji cram into the hollow space, making him feel bigger than he already is.
“Ah. Fuck, Toji, Toji!”
“Calling my name now, sweetheart?”
It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so nice to receive a pet name.
Satoru shoves Toji’s hand out of the way, spits on his own and slips it beneath. Rubs himself all the way he likes, riding those little shockwaves as Toji’s cock splits his cunt.
He doesn’t think Toji quite hits his G-spot but he hits something else, fills Satoru up like no other, and it’s how grossly full he feels that is getting him off plenty. He keeps throbbing, the worst one yet, the one that has him bite his lip again to stifle an embarrassing moan.
Then Toji grunts and Satoru feels the cum seep inside of him.
“Oh god.”
He cums with startling intensity, whining into the table. He floats, high and high up, while all that tension in his body leaves him in one fell swoop. His pulse climbs from his cunt all the way to his throat, quieting him. It feels so good to just lie here like this, Toji’s mass on top of him, being full and sated.
Spent.
And then Toji pulls out and ruins it. “Get dressed.”
“You couldn’t give me a minute?” He snaps back but his voice sounds notably hoarse and Toji’s face is looking awfully smug. God, he hates him.
His hands are shaking when he pulls his pants back up, all that mess soaking right back into his underwear, and Satoru tries not to shudder. It’s cold and gross. Reeks of old man sweat.
And he was into it not even five minutes ago.
Toji finally looks at him when Satoru stares pointedly at the door that won’t open.
“I better never see your fucking face here again, kid.”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “Bet.”
He walks out of there with not so much a stride but a waddle and calls a cab to go take him home.
.
“Miss me?”
Satoru enjoys the look on Toji’s face. Likes the way his eyes narrow and his hands go for his weapon while Satoru grins wide and obnoxious.
“What did I just say.”
Satoru holds up his phone screen before this can go any further. On it is a small capture of yesterday’s events in grainy pixels: the security footage of Toji’s even grimier office. Toji doesn’t do the predictable thing: he doesn’t grab Satoru’s phone, he doesn’t shove him away. In fact, all Toji does is stare.
“Don’t you like them?” Satoru says, begging for a fight. “I’ve made copies.”
“When?”
“Last night. Your colleague is a lot friendlier than you, for sure.”
It wasn’t hard to contact the mall owner. After hours it’s even easier to bribe the other security guard on duty, snatch the tapes, pay everyone for their time. He could have had someone else do it, but the tapes are somewhat precious to him.
He got off to them again before bed.
So he sighs dramatically. “I guess that just means you gotta fuck me again. Wouldn’t want these to spread y’know? I’m only sixteen.”
This time Toji cackles. “Oh so you’re a criminal criminal, huh. And here I thought you only did petty crime.”
“I had to up my game. I never met an ex-convict-turned-security-guard.”
Toji doesn’t appear angry. He leans into Satoru close enough to be overheard, far enough to be nonchalant. “How’d you guess?”
“Kinda gave it away when you fucked me, old men don’t really fuck little boys like me. Tragic, huh? But paying for your records wasn’t really hard either.”
“My records, hm? Scared yet?”
Satoru pushes his hands in his pockets and grins at him.
“Not a chance.”
There is no getting rid of him now.