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Sleep was kind of a waste of time now.
All it did was give his mind a rest. Satoru didn’t need to give his mind a rest with reverse cursed technique.
So, the higher ups gave him countless missions. Satoru squashed every curse like bugs under his heel. Rinse and repeat over and over again.
Sure, usually he could curl up in bed with Suguru when he actually slept, but the times that Suguru and Satoru were at school at the same time were few and far between. Hell, this latest string of missions sent him up to Sapporo for damn near a month. The damned higher ups sent Suguru all the way down to Okinawa, Hiroshima, Kochi, and everywhere else other than somewhere close enough to stay in the same hotel room with Satoru.
So, basically, sleep was a waste of time. He didn’t even consider it at first while his day manager drove him up the mountain to school, prattling on about another curse that Satoru’s night manager could take him to once they got back. The further up the mountain that they traveled, the more it revealed itself to him.
It’s with a jolt upward and a spreading grin that Satoru felt the achingly familiar ping of a patchwork blanket he wanted to wrap himself in.
Satoru watched his outline shuffle away from the shower room in their building.
Suguru. Steam-warmed, clean, probably (hopefully) needing Satoru’s help specifically to dry his hair, and wearing nothing more than a robe if Satoru was lucky. The drone of his manager’s voice faded into the background.
Then it was gone. A pop of his ears signaled the change in altitude when he disappeared from the backseat.
His managers would figure it out. Maybe he could get Suguru to scream loud enough for everyone to get the picture that he wanted to be left alone.
In a blink, he stood in their room— Just in time for Suguru to come and open the door.
Except… Satoru watched Suguru’s feet carry him further down the hall until he stopped in front of an extra dorm room. The one he used to live in before he did the right thing and moved into their current dorm.
Another blink and Satoru looked over his now emptier room.
Suguru’s phone charger wasn’t plugged in on his side of the bed. The sweatshirt he left tossed over the back of Satoru’s desk chair for nearly a year was gone. His dishes weren’t on the drying rack.
Satoru’s wardrobe was alarmingly empty. Suguru’s uniforms and some nicer clothes used to be there. Not even the hangers remained. His clothing drawers were half-empty. Feet rooted to the ground, Satoru was very painfully aware of the fact that the other dorm’s door was locked.
His bed was empty. His room was empty. The air smelled untouched and sedentary. Everything—everyone that should be there wasn’t.
Was… Suguru mad at him?
He couldn’t be. They hadn’t seen each other enough to be mad at each other.
And, sure, Suguru’s anger was pretty cold to begin with, but this felt like absolute zero compared to his baseline. He moved out while Satoru was gone? What the hell?
Satoru didn’t even do anything this time!
Not that Suguru had ever gone as far as to move his things. Even when he gets mad at Satoru, he will still wind up on the other side of the bed every night. What was different now?
Suguru’s new ability had been a snag for a second, but they went over this! Suguru’s hands had been all over him more than once since he gained it without a single change in sight. Gloves, no gloves, and sometimes hard enough to leave proof.
He used to touch Satoru so much more often. Even back then, before idle transfiguration and before Satoru's absolutely perfect birthday last year where Satoru learned how dangerously good it felt to have Suguru’s nose nestled in against his hip, Satoru didn’t think it happened nearly enough…
It had been embarrassingly overwhelming the first time he felt Suguru’s touch on his bare skin.
They were watching a movie.
Satoru leaned on Suguru at first. Shoko was staying with a sick Utahime instead of joining them, so the extra couch space leaned Suguru into the corner until Satoru was half-laying on him. His chin went from resting on Suguru’s shoulder to pressing his forehead against Suguru’s pulse point.
With his arms around Suguru’s waist, one of Satoru’s hands clutched Suguru’s shirt and the other rested limply on the couch cushion beneath them. Suguru’s hair was still a little damp after his shower, but it was down and he smelled so good that Satoru was in heaven.
A nuzzle closer and Suguru laughed at him, teasing him before he laid back to allow Satoru to use him as a pillow.
Suguru’s hand settled at Satoru’s waist and with such little distance to travel between the two of them, their cursed energy slowed until it settled. Satoru felt so heavy, but Suguru’s hand kept him that way while it traced meaningless shapes against his spine through the fabric of his shirt.
That was before Satoru knew that his name was branded into Suguru’s chest in the same place Suguru’s was marked on his.
Back then, he was too distracted to take advantage of the proximity to check. Suguru’s fingers passed over the hem of his shirt and calloused fingertips brushed Satoru’s lower back.
It had been a lot harder to breathe. Both of them tensed, though Satoru’s was more of a muscle twitch than anything.
“Sorry,” Suguru murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. His hand started to retreat. Satoru’s sluggish body was lightning quick when he caught Suguru’s wrist before it could go too far.
Suguru stopped breathing and it was nice to know that Satoru wasn’t alone.
“... Satoru?”
Satoru shivered and guided Suguru’s hand back, even sliding Suguru’s battle-rough fingertips further up under his shirt. He pressed his hand over the back of Suguru’s own, keeping his palm flush with his skin.
“It’s not a big deal, Suguru!” Satoru’s voice was just a little breathy. “Just…”
Keep touching me.
Satoru didn’t say it back then, but after that he never had a reason to. Suguru reached for him even before Satoru leaned in sometimes.
The door slammed against the wall even though Satoru didn’t try to open it that hard. Nor did he mean to knock as loudly on the other dorm’s door as he did. He nearly knocked again when Suguru hesitated, but he stopped when Suguru closed his book and stood up from his chair.
It was impossible to settle back on his heels, but Satoru somehow managed to wait until Suguru opened his door.
“Suguru!” Satoru said sharply before the relief of seeing Suguru’s tired face could throw a bucket of water over his frustration. “What gives? Why’d you move all your stuff?”
Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed. Satoru wanted to kiss it and crowd in closer than they had been able to be for over a month now. (He was only in a robe, but Satoru couldn’t even properly appreciate that yet.)
Taking a step forward, Satoru pressed a hand to the doorframe with his fingers curling around it to the inside of the room when he saw Suguru’s eyes glance toward the dorm door. It felt as painful as being stabbed in the stomach when Suguru took a step back. His fingers pulled away from the doorknob and with one more step backward, he tucked his hands into his sleeves.
“Satoru, we’ve been over this,” Suguru sighed. “It isn’t safe for us to sleep in the same bed right now.”
“Yeah, we have been over this and we did some pretty thorough testing to see just how much you can touch me,” Satoru scoffed. He missed the marks he made Suguru dig into his back to prove it.
Satoru passed through the door. Before Suguru could take a step too far away again, Satoru reached out and curled a hand tightly around the knot that held Suguru’s robe closed. He pulled, reeling Suguru in against him where he belonged.
“Stop being so stubborn,” Suguru said sharply. He leaned back, but didn’t try very hard to pull away from Satoru’s grip. “Curses are unpredictable. Just because I haven’t done anything yet doesn’t mean I won’t— Satoru!” Suguru spoke sharply when Satoru twisted them, guiding Suguru against the counter of his kitchenette.
Satoru’s arms caged Suguru in, hands settling right next to where Suguru's dishes dripped dry in the wrong goddamn drying rack.
“Suguru,” Satoru said back, petulant as he reached for Suguru’s wrists and gripped them tightly. Suguru kept his hands curled into fists. Satoru guided them up so he could brush his lips to white knuckles. He kissed the heel of one palm where it met wrist and nuzzled against his other. “Touch me.”
“I—” Face bright red, Suguru’s voice was low and a step away from trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Fragile—so much more so than Satoru had ever seen him.
“You won’t,” Satoru dismissed as he leaned into the gap between Suguru’s fists and kissed the tension point between his eyebrows.
Suguru froze like a statue.
“You know my soul, Suguru. Better than anyone,” Satoru brushed his lips down the bridge of Suguru’s nose and down to the corner of his lips. He breathed his words out; half command, half plea. “Touch me.”
Part of Satoru felt so hollow when Suguru’s hands weren’t on him that he wouldn’t mind if Suguru did change anything about him. As long as Suguru’s hands stayed on him, he would let Suguru mold him into anything he wanted.
Some days, Satoru ached until Suguru touched him. That same ache had been numbing Satoru all month.
Satoru might have moaned when Suguru’s hands relaxed, opened, and finally cupped his face. His eyes fluttered and he melted against Suguru. His lips shifted from the corner of Suguru’s mouth to meet him in a kiss before Suguru could work himself up again.
Those hands smoothed back from his cheeks, sliding up into Satoru’s hair to hold him closer instead of pushing him away.
Satoru could breathe again. He sucked a breath in through his nose as he parted his lips and licked into Suguru’s hesitant, yet open mouth.
When Suguru tried to move his grip to Satoru’s shoulder, Satoru shrugged his uniform jacket off. It thumped to the floor. A button or two snapped from his button down before that dropped next. Satoru couldn’t get it off fast enough. Not so fast, it said, Keep touching me.
Satoru kept leaning closer, pressing until Suguru’s hand dropped down to the counter to hold his weight up. With a grunt of annoyance, Satoru brought a hand up Suguru’s back to hold his weight and guide Suguru’s hand back to Satoru.
The damn drying rack clattered into the sink when Satoru swiped it aside. He lifted Suguru up to the counter, but didn’t give him the space to close his legs before Satoru stepped between them.
“Wait—”
“Suguru, if you stop touching me, I’m gonna scream,” Satoru muttered as he untied Suguru’s robe with a few tugs.
He brushed his lips back from Suguru’s mouth all the way to his ear. His tongue dipped in, his teeth nudged into the shell, and when he spoke again it was in a whisper as Suguru’s fingers twitched in his hair and a low sound stuttered in Suguru’s throat.
“Do you want me to scream, Suguru? The door’s still open…”
“T-Take this seriously, Satoru…” Suguru might have been more convincing if his thighs didn’t squeeze either side of Satoru’s waist when he licked into his ear again.
“I’m dead serious, Suguru. If someone tries to come check on me and sees you like this, I might have to kill them.”
Not that there was anyone nearby. Shoko was dead asleep across the clearing in her own dorm. Everyone else was anywhere else.
“You’re ridiculous,” Suguru murmured with a defeated breath of laughter.
Satoru didn’t let him pull his hands away long enough to push the robe down his arms. He just opened it around Suguru’s body and pressed against him where he belonged. Head dipping down, Satoru’s tongue traced the kanji of his own name centimeters under Suguru’s collar bone where it had been carved by fate, a curse, a kami, or a devil.
That should be enough proof that Suguru would never change him in ways that weren’t how he was supposed to be. Suguru’s back arched, his fingers pressed in, and Satoru’s entire body trembled when they slipped in deeper than should be possible. Satoru’s breath went shallow, keening up the back of his throat.
Satoru’s eyes nearly rolled back when Suguru’s fingertips grazed the surface of his soul. He pressed into Suguru’s hands instantly, somewhere between overwhelmed and starved. Satoru’s knees nearly buckled.
Pants uncomfortably tight, Satoru was about to reach for his belt when Suguru’s hands found it instead.
“Ha… H-Hahaha,” Satoru laughed breathlessly, an edge to his tone that veered on unhinged knowing he straddled the line of being unmade—held together only by Suguru’s whim. “Fuck.”
He dug his teeth in, sucking a bruise over the lines of his name. It wasn’t enough, apparently. Suguru kept forgetting just what it meant. Satoru was happy to give him a reminder. Those fingers twitched, pressing down and grazing something that felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Suguru got Satoru’s pants down, but Satoru had to multi-task between getting his shoes off and not losing his goddamn mind listening to Suguru’s shaky breaths. When he finally got his pants, shoes, and socks kicked aside, Satoru already wanted his boxers gone.
If Suguru wanted to stay here instead, fine. They could stay here. Suguru just needed to be reminded of all the time they spent together in this room too. Taking every trace of himself from their room wouldn't take every trace of Satoru from this one.
Satoru's palm found its new home in the space between Suguru's robe and the warmth of a too-tense back.
Not close enough.
Suguru seemed to have the same thought—subconsciously or not. Tension wired through the curve of his spine. He shivered. His breathing puffed against Satoru's hair.
Tongue swiping down the long line at the start of the kanji for his given name, Satoru licked further down. He mapped the space between the bottom tip of that line and an already hard nipple.
An ache set in Satoru's scalp when Suguru's fingers curled in his hair tight enough to fist it. Satoru pulled at the grip, a groan in his throat when the deeper ache buzzed under his skin; his own reminder of Suguru's mark on him.
Soft lips spread over a dark nipple and Satoru's hot tongue made Suguru tremble when it lapped at the patch of sensitive flesh.
“Satoru,” Suguru said between soft sounds Satoru broke out of the cage he kept them in.
“Mhm?” Satoru hummed and though his mouth was distracted, his eyes were glued to Suguru’s face beneath the translucent lenses of dark sunglasses.
“We—” Suguru tried to begin, but something must be distracting him. His voice was interrupted by a stuttered breath. Satoru’s innocent hands traveled lower. “We should talk.”
“Then talk.”
Suguru’s hand moved and Satoru might have growled were he physically capable of it. Instead, he groaned petulantly and pouted against Suguru’s chest. His hand twitched where it coincidentally found itself on Suguru’s upper thigh, (He had no idea how it ended up there.) already smoothing up over his hip and further inward.
“Satoru, listen—” He said as if Satoru hadn’t been hanging onto his every word. Satoru was about to say as much, but then Suguru’s warm hands were on Satoru’s cheeks again. Satoru could only lean into them as they guided his head up so Suguru could bring their foreheads together. Satoru’s entire world, once so busy and buzzing, narrowed into the bubble he created in the process.
It was harder to breathe.
Suguru’s eyes stared into his soul while his hands touched him like an artist appreciating the meticulously placed grooves in his creation. One hand lifted and grabbed the arm of Satoru’s shades and slowly pulled them away from his nose.
Everything slowed in time with Satoru’s breathing. He couldn’t look away, wouldn’t dare to.
Their eyes met in the middle like they had a million times before. In more ways than one, Satoru felt naked. Suguru looked at him with eyes that missed nothing and a mind sharp enough to know everything.
Suguru’s face was tired. Exhaustion paled him, darkening the circles under his eyes like they had been for months.
That was the worst part. Neither of them slept well without the other. Suguru couldn’t be getting less sleep than Satoru, but it had to be pretty damn close.
His sunglasses clicked on the countertop and Suguru’s hand was back on his cheek before Satoru could find his tongue to complain.
Instead, Satoru counted his eyelashes; followed the outline of his eyes once, twice, three times; and mapped the slope of his mouth. Suguru’s thumb brushed the swell of Satoru’s cheek enough to yank him to that single point of contact. Satoru brought his hand up to cup the back of Suguru’s and turned his head to thank him for the privilege.
Suguru smiled the kind of smile that could still make Satoru’s heart race. Warm, indulgent, and filling his features all the way up to his soft eyes and the smooth plane of a relaxed forehead.
Suddenly, the world was right all over again.
“Have you been eating enough?”
It’s such an out-of-the-blue question that it knocked a laugh out of Satoru. He couldn’t help but lean in to kiss Suguru, pushing it until he knew he had to pull back. It was that or Suguru would to get the answer out of him.
“Both of our dicks are out right now and you wanna talk about eating, Suguru? Are you sure you wanna set yourself up for those jokes?”
“Satoru,” Suguru chided. He still laughed and Satoru was already leaning in to kiss him again. Suguru, the betrayer, held him back with firm hands. “I’m not rewarding you if you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
Fuck, Suguru wasn’t helping his case if he was trying to get Satoru to think about anything else. He’s sure it showed on his face because a mischievous twinkle in Suguru’s eyes told him it was intentional.
“I’ve been eating,” Satoru finally admitted. Not as much as Suguru would likely approve of, but he wasn’t dead yet. He very meaningfully pressed his fingertips into the skin of his lower back. “I was just about to eat dinner, actually.”
Suguru’s shoulders slumped in relief and Satoru wanted to kiss him for the same reason, but dialed up to eleven—a need more than a want. Suguru frustratingly still held him in place.
Not that Satoru was pushing much. He felt like liquid more than muscle and bone.
He doesn’t think he blinked in the last minute and a half.
“I’m glad,” Suguru spoke into the air they both breathed. “You’ve been working hard.” His thumb touched the corner of Satoru’s lips. Satoru’s mouth opened, jaw easing into Suguru’s palm. “I…”
Satoru smirked the best he could, nearly grinning when Suguru’s eyes dropped to his lips. Suguru's palm slid down closer to Satoru’s chin. The pad of his thumb was so welcome against his lower lip that Satoru poked his tongue out to feel the grooves of his thumbprint as thanks.
How long would it need to stay there before it left a permanent impression on Satoru’s tongue?
“I missed you,” Suguru finally murmured as his eyes met Satoru’s all over again with an intensity that was as familiar as it was rare these days.
Satoru might have stopped breathing. His smirk fell and awe took its place in parted lips and round eyes.
Suguru kissed Satoru that time. His head tipped and his lips settled into place against Satoru's. His mouth moved slowly and his tongue slid into Satoru's mouth with a gentleness Satoru wasn't entirely sure he deserved, but one he leaned into anyway.
It was a complicated thing—Being treated as breakable when he was anything but.
Satoru never felt so simultaneously small and on top of the world at the same time.
It’s a high he settled on top of while he gripped Suguru’s thighs. He pulled and settled Suguru on his waist to hold his weight. As the angle shifted, Satoru tipped his head up to keep from breaking the kiss.
Suguru’s legs squeezed around Satoru’s waist as if he even needed to try and hold himself up. When Suguru tried to pull back this time, Satoru sucked on his tongue with the vain hope that it might keep it there. He groaned in the back of his throat again, frustration and hunger making a volatile cocktail.
Could you be hangry for another person? Satoru was hangry enough to become a cannibal.
“Satoru,” was enough to take the edge off, but Suguru’s tongue down his throat probably wouldn’t even be enough to remove the ache entirely. “You don’t have to carry me. You’ve been working hard enough. Let me—”
“Suguru,” Satoru interrupted instead of setting him down.
His arms wrapped so tightly around Suguru that he squeezed a noise not unlike a squeaky toy out of him. He slapped a hand down on Suguru’s ass both as a reprimand and because Satoru might actually lose his mind if he didn’t.
“I don’t think you took me seriously when I said I’d scream,” Satoru teased, but Suguru didn’t try to let go again. He kissed Suguru again. Then another time. Then actually one more time before he pulled back just enough to mutter a prayer into his mouth, “Let me.”
Satoru could have teleported them to bed, but it felt too quick for a point that needed more time to be driven home.
So, Satoru walked.
He crossed the empty space between the wrong kitchenette and the wrong bed made right only by Suguru's presence.
It was only once he hovered near the edge of the bed that Satoru finally did the unthinkable. He leaned over to rest Suguru’s back on the made bed.
Because of course it was made. There was no doubt in Satoru’s mind that Suguru laid awake or read on it at most instead of what it was made for… Well, one of the reasons it was made for, anyway.
As Satoru leaned back, Suguru’s hands slid down the sides of his throat to his shoulders. His hands flexed as he squeezed them, seemingly intent on driving Satoru crazy with just enough pressure to be on the edge of not-enough. They grazed his soul and Satoru felt that brush with overwhelm that ached for deeper. More.
When was the last time Satoru felt any type of soreness or ache? It had to be the last time they were together and he was intent on re-enacting the events leading up to nails dragging down on either side of his spine. He had to be mindful about using reverse curse technique if he wanted to keep any of the marks.
Usually it ran automatically, refreshing his body and anything that might have hurt him at all times. When he had the kinds of bruises worth keeping, Satoru had to code his techniques in an entirely unique way.
It was exhausting, but some days those marks were the only thing that kept him from the edge of dissolution.
Suguru could unravel him easily. A glide of his palm over his skin and an errant thought was all it would take to weave Satoru back into shape.
—but he wouldn’t. That much was all the clearer with every involuntary twitch of Suguru’s hands and every brush of fingertips that pulled Satoru’s soul closer to the surface than it ever should be. Satoru knew that, should Suguru ever have the whim, he could pull him apart and put him right back together again no matter what shape he took in the in-between.
With all evidence of his touch so easily erasable, Satoru just wanted to be given evidence that would linger. A scar would be better than the smooth nothingness reverse curse technique rendered Suguru’s touch into.
Satoru settled back on his heels between Suguru’s legs. He hooked his hands under Suguru’s knees and pulled until his ass settled on his lap, leaving his hips raised and his thighs spread perfectly to either side of Satoru’s waist.
Palm flush with his thigh, Satoru slowly smoothed it down Suguru’s knee. He followed the curve of his calf, guiding his leg up until he could set Suguru’s ankle on his shoulder. Satoru nuzzled his cheek into it, thumb following a line of tension from the side of his foot up to where ankle transitioned into calf.
His lips found the hollow space made between heel, tendon, and the bones of Suguru’s ankle.
“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Satoru scoffed and, though there was a tease in his voice, he couldn’t think of any other, better word to describe Suguru. (Well, aside from “perfect.”)
Feeling how energy trembled between bones and how tension twitched in Suguru’s muscles, Satoru took his time mouthing up the length of a calf too tense to melt and too lax to move. He licked from the swell of his calf and followed the curve inward to his bending knee. He guided Suguru’s knee into place on his shoulder and finally looked up at his face again through pale white lashes.
Suguru was breathing slowly, clearly trying to keep himself calm. Satoru missed the days when Suguru wouldn’t have to stay so guarded in intimacy—when Suguru would let himself fall to pieces knowing (in the same way that Satoru knew now) that he would be pulled back together again.
“I…” Suguru tried to say, a noise in the back of his throat taking up too much space for words to squeeze past. Satoru found a tense muscle leading up the back of Suguru’s thigh and parted his lips over it. When Suguru tried to speak again, Satoru interrupted with teeth digging in hard enough to have Suguru lifting off the bed with his heel pressing hard into Satoru's back.
A curse hissed between Suguru’s teeth, hot with the weight of something Satoru wouldn’t mind carrying. When Satoru’s bite turned to kisses, Suguru’s leg went lax on Satoru’s shoulder.
“You…?” Satoru grinned against the mark he left. He nuzzled his cheek against it, eyeing the already hard cock standing tall between Suguru’s legs. He licked his lips.
“... It’s unfair to ask me to string anything together with you down there.”
“Unfair,” Satoru teased, licking the rest of the way up Suguru’s thigh. He stopped short of Suguru’s cock, hot breath against the base leaving it twitching. “If you ask me, you’re the one being unfair.”
With his eyes staring holes into Satoru’s head, Suguru’s breath stayed light and shallow. His hands eased into Satoru’s hairline. They brushed Satoru’s hair back, tugging lightly through knots Satoru hadn’t brushed out in days. Satoru let his eyes slide closed and leaned into the touch more like a cat than a man.
“It’s unfair to you either way,” Suguru’s voice was far too somber for Satoru’s liking. He spoke in a whisper. “I can’t do anything without hurting you. Even now, I… I’m just being selfish. I shouldn’t— nngh!”
Satoru cut him off with a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and a hot tongue dragging from base to tip. Suguru’s hand tightened in Satoru’s hair again, returning the tangles he so carefully took from it moments ago.
“Yeah, you’re being really selfish,” Satoru scoffed sarcastically, kissing the tip of Suguru’s cock. He squeezed Suguru’s hip. “Trying to keep me safe and give me space. Gross.”
Lips parted, Satoru left a slow trail of sucking kisses all the way back down to the base. He watched how the cursed energy buzzing through them both jolted at something so simple. Suguru lips parted in a breathless sound, pleasure and the frustration of “almost” blending together when Satoru’s lips pulled away from the head.
“If you’re gonna pretend you aren’t the most altruistic asshole to ever exist, at least pretend a little better,” Satoru squeezed around the base and dragged his palm up.
He watched as pre-cum pooled and dripped out of the tip. It slipped over his fingers and down all the way to the base. His tongue poked out to catch the drop and follow the wet trail up.
“If being ‘selfish’ is what keeps you from pulling stupid stunts like this, be more selfish,” Satoru watched Suguru’s face—How his lips parted in a quiet ‘o’ and his eyebrows furrowed like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t quite find the words for it. “I’ll forgive you if you apologize, though.”
Satoru flashed one more grin before it faded in favor of sucking at the frenulum just under the head of Suguru’s cock.
“I’ll double the forgiveness if you beg for it instead,” he breathed out. Suguru trembled under his hands, hips straining to hold still as Satoru squeezed all the way back down to the base of his cock, slick with pre-cum and spit.
Kissing the head again like a lover coming home, Satoru’s eyes glued to Suguru’s red, dazed face.
“C’mon, Suguru,” he coaxed and then—low, dangerous, reverent. “Beg.”
Satoru gripped Suguru’s thigh hard enough that it was sure to bruise as his lips wrapped around the head with an open, inviting mouth. When he swallowed down the first few centimeters of his cock, it bumped the back of his throat. Suguru rewarded Satoru with a sharp, choked moan he hadn’t heard in over a month.
It had been months. The reminder was like a shock to his system. Ignoring how his throat struggled around the once-familiar intrusion, Satoru swallowed again and again until his lips hugged the base.
Suguru clearly hadn’t touched himself in the time they spent apart. Pre-cum drooled down Satoru’s throat like a leaking faucet. Satoru swallowed every drop, eyes fluttering as his head swam from too little oxygen and Suguru’s fingers digging deep enough to leave imprints into his very being.
Was it actually possible to cum untouched?
As Suguru arched and gasped out his name like a prayer, Satoru was positive it was. He used to think it was just a porn trope, but now Satoru shuddered as every nerve in his body set itself alight. His hips twitched. The front of his boxers clung to his cock, damp from a torrent of precum or an entire load Suguru pulled from him without even trying.
He might have laughed at himself if his mouth wasn’t busy.
Speaking of.
His tongue dragged against the underside as he lifted his head. He cradled the head of Suguru’s cock on a wanting tongue, letting himself enjoy the bitter-salty flavor that drooled onto it. His head bobbed as his throat re-acclimated to the welcome intrusion of Suguru buried in it.
“Saa—” The tension in Suguru’s voice had Satoru’s ears perking up when stuttering breaths interrupted his name. “‘Toru— I’m—”
Swallowing thickly around him one more time, Satoru pulled off Suguru's cock. He kissed the underside with a raspy chuckle and a quiet, “Already? You’re the one who hasn’t been taking care of himself, Suguru.”
Suguru’s hips bucked up, but Satoru held him down with a firm hand and a kiss just next to the base of his cock. Suguru’s hands gripped Satoru’s hair tightly enough that he was sure Suguru didn’t realize the strength in it.
He wasn’t going to be the one to point that out, intoxicated with the ache only Suguru was allowed to pull out of him.
“Another thing you’ll need to apologize for.” Sharp and dangerous blue eyes focused on Suguru’s flushed face and damp eyes. Suguru’s jaw was clenched as he met Satoru’s eyes with loss and desperation mixed together in the darkening purple. Satoru gripped the base of his cock hard, keeping him barely held together. “Go ahead. Apologize.”
Panting and shaking from so little, Suguru’s eyes swam with every emotion under the sun. Eventually, he finally found the words.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
Suguru’s brow furrowed and he groaned in the back of his throat. “Satoru…”
“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for, Suguru? So mean…”
“I’m sorry for—” Suguru’s voice jumped in time with his cock when Satoru’s lips pressed just under the head. “For… moving out.”
“And?”
“And?” Suguru repeated, incredulous and desperate with how he tried to squirm under Satoru’s unyielding hands. “For not taking care of myself?”
“Aaaand?”
“Satoru, please.” Suguru clenched his eyes closed. Satoru mouthed against a vein that throbbed with his unsteady heartbeat, counting the beats. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. I need— I need you, please, just let me—”
I need you.
Bright blue eyes darkened, the grin wiped itself off of Satoru’s face, and he swallowed Suguru’s cock down so fast that Suguru almost sounded surprised when he came down his throat.
He cried out, holding Satoru’s head like a lifeline. He dug his heel into Satoru’s back once more, harder than ever. Satoru buried his nose into Suguru’s hip, swallowing in time with Suguru’s balls clenching against his chin.
Satoru could eat him alive in that moment if he only had the ability, but he could settle for swallowing down the proof that Suguru still wanted him.
Suguru whined as Satoru pulled off of him, sucking all the way until he came off of Suguru with a “pop.”
His tongue didn’t need to stray very far. He licked down over Suguru’s still twitching balls and savored the whimper it pulled from the only person that mattered. Satoru gripped the back of Suguru’s thighs and hoisted them up, nearly bending Suguru in half.
Only one of Suguru’s hands could stay in Satoru’s hair. The other came down to one of his thighs, sliding down and gripping over Satoru’s. His fingers slid into the space that Satoru’s left for him.
Heart stuttering, Satoru kissed his perineum with a low hum and an embarrassing flush to his cheeks.
Satoru’s saliva would hardly be enough, but he licked over the ring of muscle just centimeters lower anyway. His tongue circled it and Suguru’s hips twitched when his sensitivity teetered toward too much.
Lube— They needed lube.
Eyes casting a faint glow against Suguru’s skin, it actually took effort to send his attention anywhere else.
Suguru was magic in that way. Where most of Satoru’s days were spent with six eyes focused everywhere and anywhere they could be, only Suguru could force his attention into such a narrow space just by existing in it.
Thankfully, Satoru didn’t have to force his attention very far.
The shape of a bottle of lube pinged in his mind alongside a worn notebook, a few trinkets from times they spent out after missions, and a photo strip from their first year.
Satoru didn’t mean to yank the drawer hard enough to send it crashing to the floor, but he was a little too occupied with licking as deeply into Suguru as he could get to properly calibrate limitless to “gentle.”
Suguru jolted in shock, but Satoru pushed harder on his legs to keep him pinned under his thighs against his chest.
It was a pain trying to focus on the bottle of lube when Suguru clenched around his tongue like that…
Satoru groaned and held a hand out. He flicked his wrist—a command rather than an invitation closer. The lube flew through the air, limitless outlining it in blue until it slapped into his waiting palm.
Flicking the lid open hard enough the hinge broke, Satoru reluctantly pulled his other hand out from under Suguru’s own. It felt cold then, but some jobs took two hands.
He squeezed too much lube onto his palm and rubbed it between his fingers to warm it as fast as possible. The bottle of lube rolled to the side, drooling and left open on the blankets Suguru trembled on. It was sure to stain—another reminder of their time together just in case Suguru tried to pull anything like this again.
“Satoru…” Suguru breathed out when Satoru’s fingers brushed meaningfully into the cleft of his ass. Satoru looked up at him again, pulling his tongue back to replace it with the tips of his middle and ring fingers. “You better fix that.”
“Oh no,” Satoru said as he circled that ring of muscle and watched Suguru’s semi-soft cock twitch. “I guess if it’s broken, you can just move it all somewhere else… Plenty of space in the other room’s drawers.”
“You can’t just break everything in here because you— ahh…” Suguru interrupted himself, his eyes glazing over and his legs easing when Satoru’s fingers pushed to the second knuckle.
His body accepted him so easily then clutched Satoru’s fingers with no intention of letting go. At least his body knew just how much they belonged to each other.
“You were saying?”
“Y-You’re impossible,” Suguru’s voice jumped up in pitch when Satoru curled his fingers and found the round, smooth flesh he knew would get Suguru to stop thinking so much.
“Am I?” Satoru grinned, but Suguru didn’t have the voice to answer.
With each press against his prostate, Suguru’s body melted into the bed with only the tension in his legs and hands to ground him. Satoru slid up between Suguru’s legs, eyes glued to his face. Satoru clutched Suguru’s thigh again, lacing his fingers in with his other half’s.
Suguru’s head snapped back. It thumped hard against the bedsheets as his hips lifted. They pressed up both to rock against Satoru’s hands and twitch away from the overstimulation.
Satoru bumped their foreheads together, watching Suguru’s eyes flutter and struggle to stay open. They were unfocused for only a moment before Satoru’s face came into view. They focused with an intensity that made Satoru’s chest swell with something pleasant and fluttery.
“It’s not enough, Satoru,” Suguru leaned up to kiss Satoru hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. As he pulled back again, he murmured close enough that their lips brushed. “I need you closer. Please.” It’s said with so much conviction that Satoru’s fingers froze inside Suguru. Satoru hovered over him for a moment, watching as Suguru leaned in to kiss him again.
It was hard to keep his weight up then, so Satoru melted down into Suguru. Suguru’s hands slid down Satoru’s back, beating him to getting his boxers down enough to get his cock out.
Pulling his fingers out felt like he was breaking a universal law, but nothing felt more right than wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and guiding the tip into the cleft of Suguru’s ass. Suguru wrapped his arms around Satoru’s shoulders and squeezed him tighter into the kiss.
Satoru wanted to eat Suguru alive, but in that moment as he pressed against his hole and sank into him, Suguru’s tongue swirling with his own, it felt like he was the one being consumed.
Suguru moaned into his mouth, interrupted only by a slightly pained grunt after so long without having Satoru in him. When Satoru tried to stop and wait for him to adjust, Suguru’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
Yanked in, Satoru’s hips clapped against Suguru’s ass. Suguru gasped into Satoru’s mouth, somewhere between ache and bliss. Satoru gripped Suguru’s hips, holding him flush against himself with a pitiful noise. Too long— It had been too damn long.
Fuck. Satoru’s hips rolled, his knees sliding against the bed while he pressed impossibly deeper into Suguru.
They moaned in unison, finally close enough. Two halves of the same whole finally clicking into place how they were meant to be.
They breathed into each other’s mouths, sucking in the same air in between mindless kisses.
Satoru didn’t bother holding his weight up. Suguru clung to him like he might kill him if he tried. His hands slipped down Satoru’s shoulders and wrapped around his back at the same time that Satoru’s arms slipped between Suguru’s waist and the bed. He squeezed until their chests were pulled flush together almost painfully. There wasn’t enough space between them for Satoru to move his hips, but he could hardly give a damn.
Suguru’s fingers dug into his back, pressed their mark into his soul, and a delirious part of Satoru wondered if Suguru could meld them together on that level too.
They were two halves of the same soul. The names carved into their chest said as much. How good would it be to finally be whole when the closest approximation already felt so mind-numbing?
A string of saliva connected their lips when Satoru pulled back, trying to give Suguru some room to breathe. He usually needed it after this long, but then Suguru followed after his mouth, eyes lidded as they opened barely enough to see.
“Get back here,” Suguru spoke like it was a threat before their mouths slid together again and his teeth dug into Satoru’s lower lip to keep him from moving again.
Satoru pulled just to feel Suguru’s teeth dig in harder.
Suguru’s thighs squeezed either side of Satoru’s waist, his heels dug in, and Satoru accepted it as the spurring it was meant to be.
His next thrust forced a gasp into his mouth and shook the bed. Satoru took hold of one of Suguru’s thighs again, needing just a little more space even if he wanted anything but. He guided it up despite how it tried to clench tighter at his waist.
Suguru made a noise against his lips, straddling the line between frustrated and overwhelmed, but it trailed off into a moan when Satoru’s hips tugged back and slid home hard enough to tap the headboard into the wall. His hips rolled back again and, both intentioned and instinctive when he moved too far away, he slammed in hard enough that the headboard creaked in protest and smacked into the wall.
Their bed in the other room was so much nicer, so much quieter.
As each crack against the wall filled the room in time with Suguru’s muffled cries, maybe, just maybe this bed wasn’t that bad.
Writhing against each other didn’t push them closer together, but Satoru was sure it might if they just kept trying. Suguru dug crescents into his back and Satoru pressed into it with every hope that he might draw blood.
“Haa— Harder…” Suguru moaned even as Satoru’s hips slapped into his hard enough to leave his ass flushed red. “Satoru,” Suguru moaned—beautiful enough that Satoru could only obey the demand. “Harder—”
Suguru was cut off with a cry and an arched back. Satoru tightened his arm around Suguru’s waist, gripped his thigh with bruising strength next to a handprint he already left there at some point in the last thirty minutes, and gave them both what they needed.
Satoru’s abdomen stayed tense, embarrassingly close even after such little time spent buried in Suguru. The dam stayed in place, but trembled when Suguru squeezed around him—milking him every time Satoru dared to pull out more than a couple of centimeters. It wasn’t fair how easily unwound he was when it came to Suguru, but Suguru wasn’t the only one who hadn’t touched himself since the last time they were together.
Seemingly reading Satoru’s mind, Suguru broke the kiss just to whisper in his ear. “Give it to me,” he whispered, a command Satoru was only too eager to follow when he asked so nicely for it. “Inside, Satoru. Cum—”
How was he supposed to not listen to that? When next his hips slapped into Suguru’s ass, he kept them there and ground as far into him as he could get.
He needed to be deeper, but he would have to settle for as deep as he could get.
“Suguru,” Satoru slurred the word out, hugging him tightly as he came buried to the hilt in perfection incarnate. “Fuck,” he panted, eyes cracked open to watch how Suguru’s face melted into something blissed out. His cock was still hard against Satoru’s stomach, but he looked like he was the one who came while Satoru filled the deepest part of him.
Satoru couldn’t even blame reverse curse technique on the fact that his cock stayed mostly hard buried inside Suguru. Even before he learned how to use it, Satoru was insatiable. It just left him sensitive enough that it nearly yanked a whine out of him when Suguru rocked his hips to meet him in the middle.
When Suguru leaned up, Satoru let him as long as they stayed pressed together.
He’s also immediately reminded at just how powerful his better half was when Suguru turned them over, rolled Satoru onto his back, and sat on his cock like he owned it.
God, he really did.
Suguru’s name branded on Satoru’s chest might as well be on his dick with how willingly he would sign over legal ownership if Suguru kept moving his hips like that. Their lips separated and Satoru threw his head back against the mattress feeling Suguru’s leg muscles tense on either side of his hips with each overstimulating buck of his hips.
“Fuck, I love you—” Satoru groaned as Suguru’s hands settled onto his chest. The oversensitivity nearly bordered on pain as Suguru abused his nerves, but Satoru’s legs bent, his feet pressed down into the bed, and he thrust up into Suguru despite how raw he felt.
“I love you too,” Suguru said so softly despite the filthy things he kept doing with his hips—soft enough that Satoru’s heart fluttered.
His hands smoothed over Satoru’s chest and yet again on the surface of his soul, rendered into nothing more than a playground for those hands.
When Satoru pulled Suguru down into a kiss again, hand at the back of his neck, his other hand wrapped around the dripping cock that pressed against his abdomen. Suguru jolted, caught between grinding his prostate against the girth in his ass and bucking into Satoru’s hand—holding him together and pulling him apart.
“Satoru!” Suguru filled the room with his cry when he came, hole twitching and dripping Satoru’s cum around the cock that put it there. His own cum spilled across Satoru’s abdomen, his body trembling through it.
He barely had any time to breathe before Satoru pushed forward, flipping them and landing Suguru’s head closer to the foot of the bed. His hair was a mess as it formed a halo around his head, some sticking with sweat to his forehead. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, the sensitivity already getting to him with just a few thrusts.
Satoru leaned down as he kept rocking and Suguru spread his shaky legs for more.
They had a month to make up for. Satoru was going to make the most of every second.