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Geto couldn’t even remember how the fight had really started. All he could recall was that it was about something dumb, as were most of the trigger points of their bickering. Maybe Gojo had made some snide little comment, just a dig between friends, oh yeah - that was it.
“Not my fault I’m the strongest, Sugu~” He’d chirped casually as he stepped past Suguru, shouldering him lightly. It was easy, playful, as if he’d simply been commenting on the weather.
And it might have ended there, maybe Geto would have bitten back with a joking reply of his own. Maybe it could have been written off as a petty little catfight, just banter between pals. Most days Geto let those little prods of Gojo’s slide, recognising when he was being baited, and instead of replying instinctively, he’d instead take a long cool breath - letting the flitting anger subside like the gentle crash of a wave.
But today had been tougher than most. The sweltering summer heat alongside a plethora of tiny mishaps that morning had resulted in Geto warping into a prickled husk. He was quiet, brooding. When he did speak his replies came out quick and sharp like the flash of a blade. Most other sorcerers and faculty knew well enough to keep clear, but of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t know subtly or tact if it slapped him across his perfect fucking face.
So that’s how the argument had devolved into a full blown fist fight. How they’d ended up shoving one another into an abandoned classroom - Geto’s hands gripped tight around the collar of Gojo’s shirt, crinkling the crisp fabric while Gojo just grinned down at him, all teeth, before he raised a long leg and kicked him square in the stomach.
Geto coughed and crumpled to the ground, palming at the tatami beneath him, seized with the dull ache of the impact and the mild shock of being physically overpowered. Gojo didn’t give him time to recover, crowding over him as he scrambled backward along the floor.
“You’ve been so moody today, Suguru.” Gojo pouted, though Geto knew it was a farce. “What, you upset because Yaga said I was the strongest?”
Geto threw a fist in reply - a wide, emotional swing that was much too loose to have posed any real threat. As expected, Gojo dodged the punch with ease. But he did do something unexpected when Geto’s fist flew past his face. His hand shot up and caught Geto’s wrist at the end of its arc.
Caught slightly of guard and wide eyed, Geto realised then that he was falling backward, and in the next moment he found his back smacking against the mat below, before Gojo slammed both of his hands above his head with a brute strength that made him gasp aloud.
Gojo gazed down at him with an even, unbothered expression, as if studying the way Geto was panting, hot with fury. Pale strands twirled across his forehead, framing that blinding cerulean that always made Geto feel as though he were a frog splayed open on a dissection table whenever Gojo gazed at him like this.
“Careful.” Gojo raised a silvered brow, smiling lazy and satisfied as he watched Geto writhe beneath him, heavy breaths snorted through his nostrils - rage thrumming from him in near palpable waves. “Might almost think you actually want to hurt me.”
“I do, you arrogant asshole.” Geto spat, knees twitching where they were spread either side of Gojo’s waist, forced aside as the other man crowded his space.
Gojo said nothing, but Geto felt the grip around his wrists tighten above his head, and he winced a little, continuing to tug against Gojo’s firm grasp if only to test the strength. He swallowed thickly when he found absolutely zero give in the iron grip.
At the realisation that he was entirely restrained - wrists bound above his head, and body trapped beneath the press of Gojo’s form - the rage writhing in his belly turned swiftly to something hot and sticky. And before he could attempt to kick the deadweight atop him away Gojo’s glacial eyes were already narrowing, pink lips spreading into a grin even wider and cockier than Geto thought physically possible.
“Oh.” Gojo purred, and the sound did nothing but stoke the flames licking hot up Geto’s body, a match to the fire. “You like it, huh Suguru?”
Brows furrowed, Geto parted his lips to snarl a defense, but the sound caught in his throat when he felt Gojo lower his hips and grind, slow and purposeful over his swiftly tenting pants.
Gojo hummed, not missing the way Geto’s breathing turned a little ragged, and his lips finally parted to let out a sharp little breath.
“Ah…” The airy sound - a moan, really - was the only thing that made its way out of his mouth, and Geto could feel his annoyed expression softening despite himself, melted into something syrupy and docile as Gojo continued the lazy roll of his hips.
“There it is. Finally figured out when to call it quits, huh Suguru?” Gojo chuckled above, that same hungry grin still plastered over his lips.
“Idiot.” Geto bit. “I would have won if you didn’t-“
Again, Gojo dissolved the words on his tongue with the tight, incessant press of his body, beginning to rut in a filthy grind of their hips.
“If I didn’t… what?” He echoed in a mocking mimicry of Geto’s voice, and Geto simply scowled beneath him. Cocky bastard was enjoying it.
It was heavier then, Gojo’s weight above him. And the position Geto was stuck in was downright shameful. His legs spread like a blushing newly wed on their wedding night, with Gojo’s broad form nestled between, humping against Geto like he was actively trying to grind him to dust, like he was really fucking him.
Geto got a glimpse then, of just what it would be like to really be a lover beneath him. Gojo’s palms pressed to the floor either side of his head to keep his upper body suspended, muscles twitching in his toned forearms with each indulgent buck of his hips as he worked Geto open over the tatami. Bodies slotted together like two matching puzzle pieces.
“Can feel you, y’know.“ Gojo’s voice interrupted the ramble of his thoughts. “All hard and twitchin’ against me.”
Embarrassment clawed hot at Geto’s throat, and he could feel a creeping blush beginning to rise from his collar. It was true, those damn six eyes. Even without feeling it for himself, those eyes of Gojo’s could see it all. Could see that he was rock hard and throbbing desperately in his pants each time Gojo’s crotch met his own. Could probably even see the way he was leaking a sweet little wet patch into the boxers beneath.
As he sputtered a babbled defense, Gojo lowered himself to his elbows, thick arms caged around Geto’s head. Geto peered up at him for a moment with wide eyes before Gojo tucked his head to the side and began nosing delicately along the line of Geto’s throat, breathing in his soft scent - incense and mint, and the spark of fresh sweat.
“What are you?-“ Geto began, words trailing off when he felt Gojo’s lips brush temptingly against his neck, and then the distinct sensation of a tongue pressing to his pulse point, feeling the blood thrum beneath.
“You getting wet down there too, yeah? Gettin’ nice n’ sticky for me?” Gojo’s voice came low and rumbled between presses of his tongue, and Geto shivered despite himself.
Gojo didn’t wait for an answer, simply continued the slow peppering of kisses along his throat, pale lashes ticking at his skin, until he reached the first barrier - Geto’s shirt collar.
Lithe fingers laced down either side of his collar, splitting the fabric in two before Gojo tightened his grip and tore the buttons cleanly apart with about as much effort as one would rip a sheet of paper.
Before Geto could hiss at him for ruining yet another uniform shirt, Gojo had craned his head back down, mouth pressed to the newly exposed expanse of skin like it hurt him to be apart from it.
Gojo was groaning lightly, indulgently running his teeth over the plump flesh of his chest - pressing soft little kisses. There were sharp nibbles, then bites, and then soothing laps of his tongue over the marked site.
When he mouthed a soft little kiss over the inch of skin beside one of Geto’s nipples, already perked to attention, Geto froze.
“S-Satoru stop, I’m not a g- huh-!…”
Ignoring his fussing, Gojo pressed his lips flat and sucked, tongue swirling in tight little circles around the bud like he was trying to coax something out. Simultaneously one of his hands teased down Geto’s throat, trailing a nail over the skin until he reached the other pec, where he thumbed at the other neglected nipple, rolling the bud beneath his fingers.
Gojo lifted his head, gazing down at the plump bitten nipple below through half lidded eyes. As if in a daze, he angled his head and took the other into his mouth, fingers pinching absentmindedly at the first, slick now with his spit.
Something snapped then, Geto’s resolve maybe, or his integrity. With the brush of Gojo’s teeth over his nipples, and the tight grind of his thick length over his own - he let his head fall back limply until it thudded against the floor.
“Oh, please…” Geto whined softly, eyes fluttering closed behind inky lashes, listening to Gojo’s satisfied sounds as he mouthed as his chest.
“Please, what?“ Gojo murmured into his skin between breaths, between gentle little nips of his teeth. “Use your words. Tell me what you need, Suguru.”
“Need you inside, please Satoru. Need you now.”
Gojo made a choked little sound below, and his hair tickled at Gojo’s collarbones as he rubbed his forehead there, eyes squeezed shut, revelling in the rare sound of Geto’s vulnerable plea.
In the next breath the weight atop him had dissolved, and he blinked his eyes open to find Gojo leaning back on his heels, straddling his thighs as he worked open the button of Geto’s pants.
Geto could do nothing but watch as Gojo tugged his pants down, lifting his hips up mindlessly as he shimmied them from his legs. His hands lay numb and useless beside his head.
Gojo bit his lip and hooked a long finger over the waistband of Geto’s boxers before he slowly began to peel the fabric down. Geto made a broken little sound into the crook of his arm at the reveal. True to his earlier thoughts, he was already hard. So hard that his length sprung from the sticky fabric and hit his own belly with a filthy slap when Gojo finally tugged the fabric down.
Pre drooled from the blushed tip over his abs, milky threads dribbling down the length of him. The cool air against his bare skin was enough to send a shiver down his spine as he lifted his hips once again to let Gojo slide the boxers down and past his ankles.
“Fuck, look at you.” Gojo breathed once Geto was left bare, his tone a little awestruck. “This all for me?”
Gojo’s eyes roamed the fresh sight greedily - blown so wide that arctic blue was nothing but an icy ring around the black hole of his pupils. He ran his thumbs up either of Geto’s hipbones, rubbing soothing little circles there for a moment.
“Don’t have any lube.” He noted quietly, sounding genuinely regretful. Geto rolled his eyes and flicked an irritated hand at him.
“Give me your hand.” He demanded, voice harsh, impatient.
Gojo chuckled lightly, but still lifted his hand and presented it to the man below, eyes crinkled a little in fondness.
“So demanding.” He teased, watching lazily as Geto tugged his hand down to run the pads of his fingers feather soft along his lower lip.
The leisurely, cocky expression on his face melted away when Geto’s tongue slipped out, licking a thick layer of spit over Gojo’s long fingers.
Geto glared up at him with dark chocolate eyes - his brows knitted in mild irritation, looking all the more like an angry feline as he lapped at Satoru’s fingers. Satoru watched with wide eyes at the push of his own digits into the wet heat of Suguru’s mouth as he began to suck, coating him in spit. Attention utterly absorbed by the tantalizing way Geto’s tongue slid slippery over his skin, drool beginning to drip a little down his chin.
“There.” Geto finally said, and pushed Gojo’s hand back toward him, wiping at his mouth with the back of his own hand. Gojo tried not to stare at the glittering little string of spit connecting his fingers to Geto’s lips.
Blinking himself free from the trance, Gojo lowered his slick fingers between Geto’s parted thighs and ran them along his rim, smearing the makeshift lube there. He heard Geto suck in a sharp wincing breath when he pushed a single digit inside, wiggling down to the first knuckle.
“Relax.” Gojo murmured, then parted his lips to drool down onto his waiting fingers as well, working his own spit into the mix of Geto’s and the pre leaking between his thighs.
“Satoru…” Geto finally interrupted after a few long moments of Gojo teasing his fingers inside, voice sounding breathy and impatient. “Just do it, I can take it.”
“Oh, can you now?” Gojo questioned in a rumbled purr, twisting his fingers in a firm scissoring motion that had Geto’s lashes fluttering closed.
As he grinned, eyes half lidded and soft watching Geto’s face contort, Gojo’s spare hand tugged the zipper down just far enough for his own cock to slip free. Geto said nothing when he peered down to see Gojo pumping himself in long, lazy strokes - he simply groaned weakly and let his head fall back until it hit the tatami beneath.
Gojo surprised him a little then by leaning down, pressing his toned form against Geto’s until they were chest to chest, and he could feel Gojo’s steady heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage. Gojo bent an arm over his head, caging him in. The other slipped down between their bodies to guide his cock to Geto’s amateurly prepped entrance.
Gojo stayed like that for a second, listening to them both breathe before he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss against Geto’s cheekbone, then pushed inside.
“Ngh-….ha-ah….-hah-….” Geto panted, eyes squeezed closed as he adjusted.
Inch by thick inch sunk inside, slow enough that he could feel every ridge, every pulsing vein, until his fingers grasped at the tatami and a strangled little sound escaped him. Although it pained him to admit - Gojo was undeniably big. Even without looking he knew he’d only taken a few inches at most, and he was already gritting his teeth at the burning stretch of it.
“Shh that’s it, just relax. Breathe for me.” Gojo was murmuring sweetly into his neck, breath hot curling over the shell of his ear as he felt Geto go rigid beneath him.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He grunted, voice pitched high and breathy.
“Move.” Geto grunted sharply in reply, hissed through clenched teeth.
Silently, and with a tiny retreat of his hips, Gojo pressed forward once more, listening to Geto’s shaky moan before he set a rhythm. His thrusts stayed shallow and slow as Geto trembled slightly beneath him.
He maintained this steady motion, tight neat little thrusts until he angled his hips slightly, and Geto moaned aloud, softening instantly.
“Right there, huh?” Gojo purred, and Geto simply nodded limply in reply.
His lips set in a sweet little ‘o’ shape, brows lifted and knitted together. Gojo watched the stray strands of his dark hair swing in time with the buck of his hips. The empty pleasured expression on Geto’s face was such a rarity to see that it made Gojo’s heart skip a beat. Those dark eyes usually cool and intelligent were now soft and glassy. His tanned cheeks blushed dark, and lips plump where he’d bitten them raw, panting out gentle little ‘ah’ sounds each time Gojo rocked against him.
“All better now?” Gojo purred, tilting his head in mock questioning, voice thick with it. “Just needed some good dick to knock that grumpy attitude right out, huh?”
“Can’t really blame you, I mean I am the strongest, ‘s only fair you’d be pining for my dick. Shoot for the top as they say.”
“I know. Why don’t you say it, hm? Let me hear you say: ‘You’re the strongest, Satoru.’ He mimicked. “See? Easy peasy.”
Geto blinked up at him through black hazy eyes and shook his head furiously.
“Still so proud, even when I have you whining under me, goin’ dumb on my cock. You’re so funny sometimes Sugu’.”
Suddenly the sweet little shallow thrusts sharpened, and Gojo pulled out almost entirely before sinking back inside a single, brutal thrust that had Geto crying out into the heated air.
“Say it.” Gojo demanded, voice dropped low and serious now, a far cry from his previous light teasing.“Who’s the strongest?”
“S-oh full of yourself…” Geto managed, still shaking his head, the motion limper now, less heart behind it.
Gojo laughed then, a humourless, mean laugh as his hips smacked relentlessly in a vulgar ‘plap!’ ‘plap!’ ‘plap!’.
“Nah, it’s you who’s full’a me, baby.” Gojo mocked, fingers biting into Geto’s hips so hard he thought it might bruise. “Now say it. Tell me who the strongest is.”
Any other time he would have made fun of Gojo for such a dumb line, but with the delicious buck of his hips knocking the thoughts from Geto’s head with each measured smack, and his cock twitching feebly where it was pressed untouched between them, he found his lips parting before he could think - tongue curled around the shape of the words.
“Oh fuck- it’s you, -hah-it’s you Satoru, you’re the strongest…”
“That’s right.” Gojo praised, and his hand slipped beneath the tattered remnants of Geto’s shirt.
His palm pressed flat and warm against Geto’s back, feeling the muscles jump beneath as he followed the curve down to his waist. Geto arched into the touch, letting Gojo’s other hand lift his hips and guide him up and down onto his cock in a rhythm that had spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth where his jaw was slack.
“You’re drooling baby.” Gojo panted. “Feels that good, huh?”
Gojo craned his head and ran his tongue over the corner of Geto’s mouth. But before he could lift away, Geto had slipped his hands up to grip at his nape. Following the incessant press of Geto’s fingers, Gojo turned his head, jaw angled to crash their lips together in a sloppy, breathless kiss.
Gojo tasted sweet, like those candies he was always sucking on. That along with the remnants of the cigarette Geto had smoked behind the classroom building before training made a flavour so heady, so them, that Geto felt his skin pebble to goosebumps.
The kiss turned loose, more of a messy press of lips and tongue and teeth than any cohesive motion, but the rhythm was there - a silent dance between the two so bone deep and instinctive that they were both groaning unashamedly.
“Gonna cum..” Geto suddenly whined between the hot press of his lips, gasping heated moans into the kiss, his fingers dragging desperately over Gojo’s clothed shoulders. Gojo growled, swallowed his next weak little sound, sucking at Geto’s tongue greedily.
When they split apart, Gojo straightened up, one had rested over Geto’s collar bones, fingers pressed lightly around his throat in a firm, yet gentle hold, teasing beneath his spread collar. His other hand still gripped tightly around his hip, biting bruises into the bone.
“Hah-… fuck…” Gojo moaned, sounding for the first time that day, truly affected. His thrusts had turned a little wayward - wide harsh smacks against the backside of Suguru’s trembling thighs. And he gazed down at the man below him with a dazed sort of expression, his face a wash of pink, contorted and tight as if he were in pain.
Even without seeing the way his eyes were softened in pleasure, and the way his lips lay parted and bitten plump as he panted - Geto could tell he was close. He could feel him, pressed impossibly deep inside, throbbing responsively with each desperate clench Geto made around his cock as he too neared his climax.
Geto rolled his hips upward to meet Gojo’s haphazard thrusts with a needy whine, and the sudden motion - the additional pressure seemed to tug Gojo from the pleasured daze he was lost in.
“Go on, cum for me, Suguru.” He demanded, the hand laced over Getos throat beginning to trail down - over the curve of his pecs where red little sucking marks were blooming, down over the bump of his abs until they reached his cock, blushed dark and leaky.
Gojo’s fingers wrapped around Geto’s length, and he squeezed in a tender milking rhythm, his palm silky and slick. Geto’s jaw went slack, eyes glossy and halflidded as he watched Gojo begin to fist his cock in time with the ravenous slap of his hips. He could feel himself twitching, hot and desperate, glossy head poking from between the curl of his fingers.
“Come on, please, I wanna feel it. Give it t’ me.” Gojo was panting now, pleading in a desperate babble as he thumbed at Geto’s tip just to feel the slick bubbling there.
He couldn’t have held back even if he’d wanted to.
The orgasm hit Geto hard, sharp like a slap in the face. He could feel the hot spurts of his release painting his belly, slick over Gojo’s knuckles where he was still dutifully working his cock in tight pumps.
“Please Suguru, ‘m so fucking close, tell me -ah-… where you want it, quickly.” Gojo was panting into his ear, hand slipped out from between them to instead smack beside Geto’s head, white knuckled against the tatami.
Geto turned his face, angled so he could press his mouth to the shell of Gojo’s ear, tinted pink. Silver strands slick with sweat prickled his lips. Gojo’s thrusts were sloppy and stuttered now. Despite the simmering sense of oversensitivity, Geto lifted his aching legs and wrapped them tight around Gojo’s hips. Gojo groaned when he felt Geto’s ankles lock behind him, heels digging into his lower back, driving him deeper inward with each thrust.
“Inside.” Geto purred, breath hot over the cooling sweat. “Finish inside, Satoru. Fill me up.”
Then he lifted his head and watched those icy eyes roll backward.
Gojo cursed under his breath, the sound easing into a breathy moan as his he gave a final stuttered thrust before pressing down hard. He came in thick, pulsing throbs, grinding as deep as he could manage, babbling a string of obscenities into Geto’s hair.
Geto simply raised a weakened arm to pet at Gojo’s nape, fingers carding through his sweat soaked undercut as the man above him collapsed.
“Satoru you oaf, you’re heavy y’know.” Geto huffed, wiggled his head free to suck in a much needed lungful of air.
Gojo simply grumbled in reply and muttered something unintelligible into Geto’s throat, pale lashes fluttered closed and tickling at his skin where they were still pressed tightly together.
Geto snorted and let his own eyes fall closed for a few slow seconds, revelling in how relaxed his body felt, previous rage melted away into the soft hum of pleasure.
“So much for being the strongest.”