Work Text:
Suguru knew he was doomed from the moment he met him.
Him.
Gojo Satoru. His best friend. His one and only. His whole world.
He feels doomed now, as he gazes down at the body below him, feeling nothing but the desire to consume and be consumed in return. Every blink of those endless blue eyes, every rise and fall of his chest, Suguru watches with rapacious eyes, intent on memorizing every detail until it can somehow be made permanent within him, a way to have Satoru no matter how far they drift from each other.
And have him he does. At least for now, while they can be together without the crushing expectations that come along with being the strongest, the ones always expected to deliver the best results and ask for nothing in return.
Suguru finds it so unbearable, the thought that Satoru is merely “The Strongest” in the minds of so many people, expected to be the hero, to give himself to the cause until he physically cannot, to go forth with no emotions of his own. No one stops to see him as Satoru , the heir to a major clan with so many expectations heaped upon him, starved for love and praise, yet so willing to let it go in order to become what everyone expected him to be. They fail to see the loneliness that such greatness brings, and Suguru has been hellbent on fixing that.
He needs to give Satoru the love he has been denied, the love he deserves so much that Suguru aches with it.
Reaching down to caress Satoru’s face, he purrs his name lovingly, just for the sake of saying it, of hearing how lovely it is on his own tongue, watching the man below him turn slightly to push himself into the point of contact. Solidifying the fact that he’s here, with Suguru, baring himself and being so achingly good in the process.
Suguru delights in the soft skin of his face, and leans down to kiss him, smiling at the small intake of breath that he draws before they make contact. He allows himself a short kiss before he breaks it, moving instead to the slender column of his neck, tasting warm, flushed skin and feeling the rushing of blood beneath it.
He continues lower, focusing all of his attention on the reactions he can get out of Satoru, treasuring every aborted breath, every twitch of muscle and soft noise.
He makes a point to give attention to every inch of Satoru’s bared torso, ensuring no part of him goes unappreciated. He gives special attention to the skin above his heart if only to hear how it thrums steadily, providing the blood that is adding such a pretty shade of red to Satoru’s features. He wishes he could make a home there, in Satoru’s chest, if only to be able to listen to his heart as it beats, to be able to fall asleep to the sound of it, held safely behind his ribs.
“You are so dear to me.”
Suguru whispers into his skin, with all the sincerity in his body in order to make sure Satoru understands it, accepts it for the truth that it is.
A small, breathy noise escapes Satoru at the admission, his flush intensifying. The fact that he enjoys praise so much and yet is continually denied of it is a sin Suguru cannot forgive. Satoru needs to know how incredible he is, not as the strongest sorcerer, but as himself. Here, where they can be alone and Suguru can praise him until he forgets everything that doesn’t have to do with the sugary words spilling from Suguru’s lips.
“So, so dear to me, Satoru. Do you know that? There is no place I would rather be than right here.”
Suguru holds him tighter as he says it, if only to make him understand the irreversible truth of it. When Satoru turns his head away to escape the burning eyes he feels upon him, Suguru smiles softly, still in awe that this man, Gojo Satoru, can be disarmed so easily, with devotion as the only weapon used against him.
And Suguru will show him devotion.
With careful hands, Satoru is stripped of the rest of his clothing, laying bare before the only person he trusts wholly, with his entire being. Situating himself between Satoru’s thighs, Suguru runs appreciative hands over the length of them, feeling soft flesh and muscle give beneath his fingers.
Laying down on his stomach, Suguru brings his face to them, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin and reveling in every reaction Satoru gives him. He allows his mouth to open, his teeth sinking into flesh that gives easily when he bites down. His desire to consume Satoru, like his own special type of curse, is all he can focus on.
The soft gasp and involuntary twitch that comes from Satoru is all the confirmation Suguru needs to do the same to his other thigh, focusing on the feeling of flesh in his mouth, the taste of Satoru, of how willing he is to be claimed in such a way, how it makes his heart swell.
Suguru reluctantly leaves Satoru’s thighs and allows them to drape over his shoulders, focusing his attention on Satoru’s cock, hard and flushed, as it always is when they do things like this, leaking under Suguru’s appraising stare.
“Can I suck you off, darling?” He asks, though he knows the answer already, that Satoru’s been waiting for this, aching for the time he gets to spend alone with Suguru, away from everything and everyone else.
When Satoru responds, his voice is small and breathy, a little “Yes” escaping his lips.
“Thank you, dearest. What a good boy you are.” Suguru purrs before taking Satoru’s cock in his hand, taking a moment to stroke it once before kissing the tip and slowly lowering his mouth onto it, set on showing Satoru his devotion, how much he aches for him, aches to always be with him.
A small, strangled moan rips its way out of Satoru’s throat before he can stop himself, the combination of praise and long awaited stimulation making his head fuzzy, unable to stop the helpless sounds he makes.
When Suguru sinks all the way to the base, Satoru’s thighs involuntarily close around his head, one of his hands coming to grasp at long, dark strands of hair. Suguru revels in the pressure against his skull, the feeling of Satoru’s pleasure leading to his own, useless where it strains in his pants because this isn’t about him.
It’s about Satoru.
It’s about how Suguru swallows him down with reverence, cherishing every drop as if it will cleanse him of all the curses he’s swallowed, act as his own kind of salve and rid him of his uncleanliness.
It’s about how Satoru gives in, his walls crumbling in a moment of reprieve, his heart bared for only Suguru to see, seeking love and praise from the person he trusts most.
Suguru will make sure he never has to want for love.
Taking the hand that does not rest in his hair in his own, Suguru laces their fingers together, making eye contact that he only hopes can convey all he feels for this man. Bright blue eyes stare right back at him, tears welling at the edges.
Satoru is always so pretty when he cries.
Suguru watches as a tear escapes the blue pool it originated from, trailing down a splotchy red cheek as Suguru remains intent on worshipping Satoru with all that he has.
Satoru seemingly cannot stop the cries that are torn from him, the sound so beautiful it makes Suguru’s heart ache with affection. That such a man can be so undone from so little creates a tight sensation in his chest, a yearning to give Satoru all that he can and more, if only to see him surrender to love again and again.
He squeezes Satoru’s hand when he feels him nearing release, hips squirming on the bed and more tears escaping his eyes. He never lasts long, never like this, when faced with unyielding attention and reciprocity.
When he feels that Satoru is right on the edge, Suguru swallows him all the way down, watching with rapt attention how Satoru arches from the bed, crying out his name and squeezing his hand, fisting his hair harder between his fingers. Suguru feels his own cock throb, and only has to grind into the bed a few times before he feels himself release, Satoru’s pleasure fueling his own.
When Satoru comes, Suguru swallows all of it down like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and it is, purely because it comes from Satoru. He will consume every part of him that he can, taking it all with the gratitude of a devotee who was graced with the presence of the sublime.
When he comes down, Satoru relaxes his grip on Suguru’s hair and lets his legs fall off of his shoulders, releasing a dreamy sigh and gazing down at Suguru with such affection that Suguru has no choice but to surge up and kiss him, cupping his face and pouring as much affection into the kiss as possible.
“You are so breathtaking, Satoru. I can’t believe how lucky I am.” Suguru sighs against his mouth, feeling himself begin to tire. He only gets a flustered “Shut up” in response, followed by another kiss.
Not wanting to fall asleep in his soiled clothes, Suguru removes himself from the other man’s grip and strips himself down, leaving the room momentarily to clean himself off and get a warm washcloth for Satoru.
When he returns, he quickly dresses himself in clean boxers and a t-shirt before moving to wipe down a very sleepy Satoru. By the time he goes to at least get a pair of boxers on him, Satoru is fast asleep, leaving Suguru to struggle with his dead weight on his own.
By the time Suguru slides back into bed, he’s dead tired as well, and can only think to admire Satoru as he sleeps before he drifts off as well, planting one last kiss on him before he loses consciousness.
He really is doomed.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.