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The loud thumping of the mattress hitting the wall drowns out all other noises inside Satoru’s room. Moans and whimpers keep picking up in volume as the sounds of skin meeting skin become more frantic.
“Senpai… ” Yuuji moans lengthily as he arches under him. Satoru is enraptured. Yuuji's body glistens with sweat and is flushed in a beautiful shade of pink. “Gojo-senpai, it feels good. You feel so good.”
Shit.
Satoru is not one to get needy for compliments in sex. Still, there’s something so deliciously addictive in the way those words roll out Yuuji’s tongue that feels both like a plea and praise.
“Yuuji,” Satoru says breathlessly as his hips thrust forward, burying himself in Yuuji’s warmth.
Yuuji looks at him with cheeks aflame and pleading eyes. “I want to touch you. Senpai, I want to feel you more.”
Yuuji clings to him, desperate and needy. Satoru promptly grips Yuuji’s cock and pumps him. In response, Yuuji whines louder and sinks his nails deep into his back, leaving red crescents on it.
“Senpai, touch me more, please.”
Satoru groans and strokes at him faster. Yuuji trembles under him and Satoru feels the hot, pleasant tingle in his belly, announcing his orgasm.
“Yuuji,” Satoru moans. “Yuuji—Yuuji.”
“Cum inside—I want you inside me, senpai.”
Satoru groans as the words push him closer to his climax. They carry such lewdness that he never thought it could come from Yuuji’s pretty, innocent mouth.
“Wreck me, senpai.”
Satoru’s body shakes and—
-
—he opens his eyes and comes with a loud gasp.
The sun coming through the window and the intensity of his orgasm blinds him momentarily.
For a while, he lies there, on his bed, catching his breath. There are no other noises in the room other than his heavy breathing—no moans, no whimpers, no sex noises, and definitely no Yuuji.
Satoru groans loudly, this time out of frustration. Still, he doesn’t stop his hand from pumping his cock at a slow pace, milking himself inside his pajamas. It’s disgusting and sticky. He tries to focus on the aftershocks of his orgasm and the pleasant tingle under his skin instead.
For a wet dream, Satoru thinks, that was pretty intense. It felt good, but that was all that it was, a dream. It would never be as good as the real thing, even if Satoru doesn’t know it first hand.
“Goddammit,” Satoru curses as he throws the sheet off him and walks awkwardly to his closet.
Another day. Another soiled pajamas.
-
“Why is he so pissy today?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Something stupid, maybe?”
“But that’s not something new.”
“I know, right?”
Satoru groans and turns to face both Shoko and Suguru. They’re leaning toward each other with their hands over their mouths, seemingly talking in whispers but making no effort to be discreet.
“So?” they say at the same time, looking at him and prompting him to explain. Satoru glares at them. Neither are fazed at his animosity.
“So nothing! Leave me alone!”
Before Shoko and Suguru can keep provoking him, a loud voice behind calls for them, “Senpai!”
Satoru flinches and turns his head slowly to look at the source. Yuuji walks in their way with Megumi and Nobara flanking his sides. He’s as happy and energetic as always. It annoys Satoru because it’s not fair that his kohai looks so fresh, so well rested when it’s his fault that Satoru is not.
“Oh?” Shouko singsongs, peeking from his left and looking at his face.
“Interesting,” Suguru says, doing the same at his right. “So it has something to do with Yuuji,” he declares after looking at his expression.
“That's hardly a novelty,” Shoko adds.
“Will you two shut the hell up?!” Satoru yells at them, tired of their pestering.
“Morning, senpai!” Yuuji greets, and Megumi and Nobara do the same with less enthusiasm.
“You’re too loud, Yuuji,” Satoru complains.
The remnants of the dream chase him into daylight, making him feel annoyed and frustrated because the Yuuji who looks at him with hungry, loving eyes, doesn’t exist here. Instead, he’s stuck with this one—the Yuuji who is not only oblivious to his feelings but also a little cruel at times.
Yuuji cocks his head and smiles sheepishly, unbothered by the angry tone he’s addressed with. “Sorry? Did you not sleep well yesterday, Gojo-senpai?”
That’s something Satoru doesn’t want to address, least of all with Yuuji himself. In retaliation for his day being ruined by him, Satoru raises his hand with the intention of hitting him in the head.
“I want to touch you. Senpai, I want to feel you more.”
Satoru freezes. The vision of Yuuji lying under him, begging for his touch, overlaps the expression of the Yuuji in front of him. He has wide eyes and has gone rigid in response to his gesture. He looks scared, if not frightened. It’s an awful contrast with the Yuuji from his dreams. The one that looks at him with adoration and willingness.
“Senpai?”
Satoru clicks his tongue and offers no excuse before he turns around and walks away.
“Satoru, where are you going?” Suguru asks behind him. In response, Satoru turns around and gives him the middle finger. “None of your business.”
“What a nasty attitude.” Satoru hears Nobara say seconded by Megumi’s, “This early in the morning too.”
Satoru allows himself to steal one more look behind him. He finds Suguru ruffling Yuuji’s hair just where Satoru was going to hit him. Yuuji is not looking at Suguru, his eyes are focused on Satoru, his expression unreadable.
Unlike that morning, the fire in Satoru’s navel is not pleasant at all. He walks away with the bitter taste of rejection.
Yuuji is unintentionally cruel again.
-
Satoru has never been one to actively engage in skinship. It’s simply not in his nature. A pat on your shoulder, a playful jab at ribs, an arm casually thrown over shoulders are understandable but still rarely done between him, Shoko, and Suguru. The people Satoru can call friends—after three years, a couple of traumatic events, and maybe two different rendezvous with death—.
That’s why, when Itadori Yuuji enrolls in the academy, bringing bright, hopeful eyes and restless hands, it baffles Satoru.
It takes two weeks—not that he was counting, not that he was paying attention to his kohai since the first day, not that it matters—for Yuuji to get touchy with Nobara and Megumi. A hug here, a playful shove there. It’s usual camaraderie.
It takes another week for Yuuji to do the same with the second years. Satoru still remembers Yuuji nuzzling Panda’s belly and Kento’s comically incredulous face when he was glomped from behind.
When it was time for the third years to get included in Yuuji’s skinship, it takes Satoru by surprise that Yuuji never tries to approach him. At first, he thinks it’s just a matter of time.
It’s not.
After so many weeks, Satoru finally realizes his status as a mere spectator. He’s deliberately left outside Yuuji’s circle. Isolated. There are no glomping hugs or playful touches. Only Shoko and Suguru are worthy of them.
Am I not good enough for you to touch me?
Satoru is not the type to beg. He demands. That’s why he approaches Yuuji, intending to make him know that Gojo Satoru is not someone he can cast aside. His idea is to corner Yuuji, take his chin in his hand, make him look at him, and demand the same treatment as the others.
It's just a matter of principle and Yuuji is being rude to his senior. Satoru needs to fix that.
It doesn’t go as planned. Yuuji takes a deep intake of breath, grows stiff, and looks at him with wide, scared eyes when Satoru barely motions to reach for him.
Satoru decides that if he’s going to get that kind of expression, he’d rather not get anything at all. He has what he needs in his dreams, where Yuuji’s pliancy and desire to touch him are something that Satoru can obtain.
And, it’s not that Satoru is particularly angry at Suguru, or at Shoko, or at Megumi or everyone—the world, his petty mind supplies—for letting themselves be touched by Yuuji and reciprocate his affection just the same. It’d be too tiresome, so he settles to being angry at Yuuji only. In his defense, Satoru has all the right to be.
It’s not fair having developed a crush on someone who is outright disgusted with the idea of being touched by him.
Satoru is clearly a victim of emotional bullying here.
-
“Why does he hate me?” Satoru asks one night when Shoko managed to smuggle beers into the dorms. They’re in his room, drinking, and Shoko smoking, sitting on the floor as the empty cans of beer keep piling up.
They’re laughing while discussing who would look better in a skirt if Panda or Yaga-sensei when Satoru can’t hold it anymore. He lets go of his frustration, throwing the words fast and carelessly in the same way he pukes his guts later that night.
“Even if I’m not his type—which is unthinkable—how can’t I be anyone’s type? Look at me!”
He stands, sees the world spin but remains on top of his two unsteady legs. Then spreads his arms, showing his friends and the world the kind of catch that Gojo Satoru is.
“Even if I’m not—he doesn’t have to be so mean about it! He’s even more touchy-feely with Nanami,” Satoru complains, slurring the words. He kneels and hugs Suguru from behind to whine loudly in his ear. “Suguru, did you know that Yuuji even has a nickname for Nanami? Nanami of all people!”
“I wonder if he likes Kento,” Shoko says more to herself, and Suguru groans loudly before chiding her, “Shoko, don’t tell him that.”
“Does he?!” Satoru yells into Suguru’s ear, making Suguru flinch. “But I’m way hotter than him!”
Shoko makes a face, looking eager to disagree. At that, Satoru shakes Suguru from his shoulders, desperate. “What does he have that I don’t?”
“A personality?” Shoko offers.
“A good personality?” Suguru adds, shutting his eyes and covering his mouth with his hand. “Satoru, stop. You’ll make me throw up,” he warns before he does.
-
News of a trio of students drinking alcoholic beverages on sacred school grounds has traveled around the campus. All because of an idiot—Satoru himself, Suguru and Shoko claim, but he doesn’t remember, so it didn’t happen—yelled at the top of his lungs ‘Yuuji, you idiot!’ waking all the school population at two in the morning when they were on their way back from cleaning Suguru’s intestines from Satoru’s bedroom floor.
-
Satoru is never drinking again.
-
Yaga has little imagination. That’s what Satoru can grasp of the situation the third years are currently in.
“Seeing that you like mopping floors at midnight, why don’t you clean all classrooms in the Academy as well? Sounds like an appropriate punishment,” Yaga says.
First, it wasn’t midnight, Satoru wants to retort. Second, Yuuji should be part of the punishment too, considering that Satoru yelled his name because he was drunk and nursing a broken heart sponsored by him.
Really, Yuuji is as responsible for waking everyone at two in the morning as much as he is for Suguru’s dehydrated form next to Satoru.
That’s how Satoru finds himself for the next week in the west wing of the building, moping floors. Which is stupid. Most of the classrooms aren’t even used.
It’s one late afternoon on a Thursday when he finds Yuuji alone in one of the classrooms. He’s hunched over his desk with a book opened in front of him and looking as if the words on the pages are insulting him.
Satoru can’t believe his luck—bad luck. He’s still pissed off at Yuuji. There haven’t been more wet dreams anymore, but dreams where Yuuji takes his hand, bumps his nose softly with his, and kisses the side of his mouth, he still has. He always has. They’re a bittersweet reminder of what he can’t have in this side of reality.
Satoru doesn’t want to talk to him, so he turns to leave. His traitorous heart screams in protest, making Satoru take a step back and close the door behind him when he steps into the classroom. All in less than five seconds and now finding himself under Yuuji’s surprised gaze.
“Senpai?”
Satoru gives a grunt in reply and starts mopping.
“Oh, this is your puni—” At Satoru’s glare, Yuuji sucks his lips in, stopping himself. He waits a moment before he asks, carefully, “Were you the one who yelled my name on Saturday?”
Satoru flinches and quickly replies, “It was Suguru.”
“Oh, but Getou-senpai said— ”
“Shut up, Yuuji,” Satoru groans. “I’m trying to get this done quickly. Don’t interrupt!”
Yuuji doesn’t look bothered or hurt by his rudeness. He blinks and says, “Um, okay,” and goes back to his book.
Satoru wants to kick his desk in Yankee fashion and demand more attention.
Don’t give up that easily on me, idiot!
But Yuuji has gone back to his reading, eyes dancing right and left as he consumes the lines on it. Satoru huffs loudly, irritated, and goes back to moping.
There’s a long pause, and Satoru is bothered by it but doesn’t want to be the one who starts a conversation. Not after being the one demanding silence. He doesn’t want to give in and ask Yuuji why he’s still there, so late and alone in the classroom. Or ask him why he’s so touchy with everyone except him. Or ask him why he doesn’t dream of kissing Satoru at night the way Satoru does with him.
He bites his tongue not to.
For a while, there are no other noises than the constant drag of the mop. Then Yuuji either has a hard time reading or a stomachache, Satoru thinks, trying to convince himself and take those noises that Yuuji’s making away from more impure thoughts.
“Will you stop grunting? What’s wrong with you?” Satoru asks when he can’t stand it anymore.
Yuuji raises his eyes and smiles sheepishly. “Ah, sorry, senpai. I just don’t understand this part I’m reading.”
Yuuji looks welcoming enough for Satoru to step closer and even lean over his shoulder to read where he’s pointing.
“Reverse Cursed Technique,” Satoru reads and frowns, “How can you not understand something so simple?”
Yuuji smiles, embarrassed, and says, “Sorry, I’m dumb.”
Satoru drags a chair next to Yuuji’s desk, sits backward on it, and moves the book so they both can read.
“You’re not that dumb,” he says, still scowling, but his tone is gentle. “Listen, because I’m not going to explain it twice.”
“Yes! Thank you, senpai,” Yuuji says and concentrates on the page.
Satoru explains, reading the theory and pausing to give examples.
“See here.” Satoru points at the minus signs of the equation. “Negative plus negative—”
“—is positive,” Yuuji finishes, pointing at the plus sign.
Their fingers are so close to each other. Infinity is off. They can touch—they could touch if one was braver and the other less averse to him.
He peeks at Yuuji from under his eyelashes and sees that Yuuji has grown aware of it too. He has his lips pressed tightly and his brows knitted together. Anxious and, once again, looking afraid. That’s enough for Satoru to take back his finger and pull away.
“See, you understood. You’re not that dumb,” Satoru says, tone neutral and avoiding eyes.
Yuuji nods and replies, softly, a bit awkwardly, “Thank you, senpai.”
-
Satoru hasn’t mastered the long-distance teleport yet. It’s irritating and, at that particular moment, infuriating. Satoru runs, and in between jumps, he teleports several steps ahead, trying to get to Yuuji as fast as he can. Behind him, Shoko stayed with Megumi, treating his wounds. Suguru took another direction, looking for Nobara who, like Yuuji, is missing and most likely fighting a grade one curse.
The third years were called as a backup.
Something went wrong with the first years’ mission. They were supposed to be fighting a grade third and not two grade one and a special class.
Satoru’s heart clenches uncomfortably inside his chest at each passing second. Feeling Yuuji’s presence is as much of a relief as a source of anxiety. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take for him to resist.
Don’t die until I reach you.
After what feels like some never-ending minutes, Satoru finds Yuuji. He’s cornered and bleeding, his clothes dirty and torn. Blood runs down his face, blinding one of his eyes. He’s holding his arm that, by the looks of it, is broken. His right eye, the one still open, holds a fire in them that Satoru would have liked to gaze at it more but decides not to.
“Yuuji!”
“Senpai!” Yuuji turns to him with a relieved smile on his face and bright eyes.
Satoru doesn’t need any more prompting than that and kicks the curse away from Yuuji. It takes Satoru two blue techniques for him to defeat it. When he does, he returns to where Yuuji has slumped down on a tree, finally passing out from pain and exhaustion.
Satoru halts. He knows that he shouldn’t be this bothered, this nervous at the prospect of carrying—touching Yuuji—and taking him to safety.
Satoru throws his hesitation away with a shake of his head. He has to hurry, Yuuji’s wounds are not fatal, but he’s lost a lot of blood. He kneels next to Yuuji’s unconscious form and slowly, with his heart beating loudly in his ears, he passes his arms under Yuuji’s neck and knees.
His breath stutters. Yuuji feels so solid, so warm and heavy in his arms — so real.
He has to hurry, Satoru reminds himself again. Still, he allows himself to lose one minute hugging Yuuji’s limp body tighter against his. He feels like a creep, and maybe he is, but he doesn’t care.
Briefly, he wonders what would Yuuji say if he knows that the person he’s so averse to is embracing him as if he were a lifeline.
-
They’re in the back of the academy’s ambulance when Yuuji wakes up.
“Senpai… ” Yuuji whispers weakly, looking at him with one eye open.
“Yuuji,” Satoru calls softly, wanting to caress his cheek and run his fingers through his hair comfortingly. He doesn’t. “It’s fine, we’re going back to the school. Shoko must have arrived already with the others. She’s going to patch you up.”
“Fushiguro and Kugisaki?” Yuuji asks.
Satoru wants to say ‘Worry about yourself first’, but he knows it’s in Yuuji’s nature to put everyone’s wellbeing above his.
“They’re with her. Suguru called and said they’re fine now.”
Yuuji lets a relieved sigh. He wets his lips and says, “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing for, dumbass?” Satoru asks, but there is no real bite in his words. “It was too much for you guys. You did well staying alive, Yuuji.”
Yuuji blinks slowly and draws a soft smile on his lips. “It’s the first time senpai praises me. I’m happy.”
Satoru feels his cheeks grow warm. “D-don’t say embarrassing things.”
“You’re kind, senpai,” Yuuji continues.
Satoru’s breath hitches when Yuuji reaches for his hand and holds it. He does it so naturally and so spontaneously that Satoru has to double-check if he’s not dreaming. Yuuji never does that when he’s awake.
“Yuuji, what are you —? ”
Then Satoru notices his glassed eyes and drops his shoulders in disappointment. Before Shoko left ahead in the other ambulance, she ran a quick check on Yuuji. Most likely, she had given him painkillers and those were starting to kicking in.
Yuuji smiles lazily, takes his hand to his cheek, and nuzzles it. Satoru’s heart stops for a moment.
“Warm,” Yuuji appreciates, unknowingly causing Satoru a mild arrhythmia.
Satoru doesn’t care if his hand is now dirty with mud and blood. He can feel Yuuji’s warmth, and that’s enough. At the same time, Satoru wants to kick Yuuji for playing with his heart like this.
“Senpai’s hand is warm and big.”
“Yuuji, you idiot,” Satoru groans, pinching the bridge of his nose from over his sunglasses and craning his neck up. His blush runs down to his neck. He’s both mortified and elated.
“Saying those things and touching me so casually like this,” Satoru begins, tightening the hold on his hand. “You’re being cruel again.”
“I am being cruel?” Yuuji’s tone is angry and hurt, and Satoru draws his gaze to him at the sudden mood change. “You’re the cruel one, senpai. Letting everyone touch you except me!”
Satoru is not sure of having heard that right. He blinks again and again, then his eye twitches and says, tone calm and composed, unlike his tense smile, “Say what?”
“Senpai, you’re awful. Giving me the special treatment by isolating me.”
Satoru wants to take his hand back and run both through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t.
“When have I isolated you? You’re the one who isolates me! ”
Yuuji’s brain must be working at half of its capacity. It only focuses on the first part of his statement when he replies, “When you use Infinity only with me!”
“Eh?” Satoru drags the question long, and the tone ends in shrill indignation. “I’ve never done that!”
“Yes, you have! You let Getou-senpai touch you, and Fushiguro, even Nanamin!”
“You’re not making any sense. The drugs got you loopy,” Satoru grits out.
Yuuji ignores him and exclaims, with no small amount of distress, “Do you like Nanamin, senpai? Are you in love with him?”
Satoru groans loudly, “How did you come to that stupid conclusion? How many drugs did Shoko give you?”
“I know I could never match Nanamin's good looks, but Kugisaki says my charm points are my smile and my lips—” Satoru steals a look at them, “—so maybe you can still consider me!”
“Wha—consider you for what?”
“To be your boyfriend!”
Satoru blinks and opens his eyes wide. His heart about to burst in his chest.
“What? B-boyfriend?”
“Yes!” Yuuji nods desperately and looks at him with wide, unfocused eyes, “Senpai, please be my boyfriend!”
Satoru opens his mouth at the same time that the doors of the ambulance do. Only then, Satoru realizes that they have arrived at school. Shoko looks at him with a questioning eyebrow when she finds him flustered and grinning stupidly.
“How strong were the drugs you gave him?” Satoru asks, hunched, hand still holding onto Yuuji’s.
Shoko asks, “What drugs?”
Satoru whips his neck toward Yuuji, but he’s already out cold.
-
Yuuji wasn’t on anything. There were no chemical substances to tamper his actions with. Everything he did and said came from the real Yuuji. Shoko explained that the slow but steady blood loss on top of Yuuji’s concussion was enough for him to get confused and, apparently, tongue loose.
Satoru thought he had Yuuji figured out, but after that confusing ride together, he’s not that sure anymore. He’s trying to make sense of the words spoken earlier that day when Yuuji addressed him with a genuine smile and a friendly touch.
It’s late at night when he looks for Yuuji’s room in the medical bay. He wants to check on him and also talk, he can't go on without answers.
“He’s okay,” Shoko says without taking her eyes away from the clipboard she’s filling when she hears him step into the room. Next to her, and lying unconscious on the bed, is Yuuji. He looks good as new; his broken arm is fixed, looking as if it was never broken, and his hair is no longer that awful shade of bloody red. He's dressed in a white shirt and some pants.
Satoru wordlessly sits on the chair next to him and looks at his face, barely minding what Shoko could make out of his expression.
She doesn’t say anything about it, but she offers a friendly, supportive pat on his shoulder on her way to the door. “Your sleepy beauty will probably wake up until tomorrow.”
Satoru hears the subtle ‘Go to bed and rest, idiot.’
He huffs loudly before saying, “What I’m hearing is that you’re calling me a prince, huh?”
Shoko doesn’t look back when she says, “Sometimes I’d like to dissect your brain to understand how it can work despite being so damaged.”
Satoru can’t reply to that. She’s already gone.
Just like Shoko said, Yuuji doesn’t wake up all through the evening. His eyelids stay shut as his steady, soft breath gains loudness further into the night. All while Satoru remains there, shifting in the chair, restless and uncomfortable, but determined to not let go of Yuuji’s hand.
When the sun starts rising, Satoru is pulled away from his dreams by a gentle hand. Little, playful fingers intertwine with his. Knowing what is happening, Satoru remains unmoving, pretending to be asleep as Yuuji plays with his hand.
Yuuji untangles their fingers and cradles his hand tenderly in his smaller one. Then, slowly but deliberately, he slides his hand forward so his fingers are pressed against Satoru’s pulse point. Yuuji grips his wrist loosely before caressing the back of Satoru’s hand, running his fingers softly in a way that makes Satoru’s skin explode in goosebumps. If Yuuji takes notice of it or not, Satoru is not sure. Despite that, his kohai doesn't stop his appreciation and continues with Satoru’s fingers. Yuuji takes his ring finger between his thumb and index. He holds it for a moment and then runs his fingers up and down through its length.
The meticulous touches make Satoru feel overjoyed but also self-conscious. For a moment, Satoru even considers that Yuuji is a fetishist, seeing that his focus on his hand has gone for too long and seemingly, still strong.
Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to make a sound and keep quiet, not wanting to scare Yuuji away now that there is no excuse for him to be this touchy.
The way Yuuji touches him seems like he’s studying and trying to commit to memory every millimeter of his hand. It almost feels as if he’s being worshipped. It does wonders to Satoru’s narcissism and, apparently, to his crotch if Yuuji doesn’t stop rubbing his finger like that.
“I know you’re awake, senpai,” Yuuji says, quietly.
Satoru opens his eyes, defeated and not eager to keep pretending. He just noticed that he’s been tense and frowning in embarrassment since the beginning.
They hold eyes for a moment. Yuuji is calm, whereas Satoru can’t make the hotness in his face subdue.
“Are you feeling better?” Satoru asks, avoiding his eyes but still not taking his hand away.
“Yes,” Yuuji says curtly. When Satoru peeks at him from the corner of his eye, he finds Yuuji avoiding his eyes too.
This is ridiculous.
Satoru grasps Yuuji’s hand tighter, making Yuuji turn to him.
“I’ve never used Infinity on you,” Satoru explains, a bit too urgent, continuing their last conversation.
Yuuji widens his eyes at his outburst and then hunches over himself, ashamed. “So I didn’t dream that.”
“You mean the part where you accused me of isolating you and even asking if I was in love with Nanami?—”
At that, Yuuji tries to take his hand back to hide his face. Satoru doesn’t let him, and Yuuji settles to do it just with one.
“—Or the part where you asked me out?”
“Senpai, I’m so sorry,” Yuuji says, remorseful and still hiding behind his hand, looking at him from between his fingers. “I didn’t me—”
Satoru moves fast and grabs his cheeks, hard enough to make Yuuji grunt and his face look fuller, stopping his words. Satoru warns slowly, passionately, “If you say ‘I didn’t mean it’ I’m gonna be so pissed that I won’t ever talk to you again.”
Yuuji looks so frightened at his threat.
“Okay, I won’t say it because it’s true. I really meant it! I was going to lie because I'm afraid that you hate me now,” Yuuji says.
“I don't hate you,” Satoru hurries to reassure and Yuuji's relief is visible.
Seeing that, Satoru considers carefully. Yuuji is not someone who plays cruel jokes on anyone, and even out of himself as he was back then, asking to be anyone’s boyfriend would not be something he’d normally say. For Yuuji to ask him out, it could only mean…
“If you like me—because you do, right?” At his prompting, Yuuji's face explodes in bright red, but still nods vigorously. “Then why are you so averse to me touching you? Why don’t you touch me? —And don't use Infinity as an excuse.”
Satoru loosens his hold on his cheeks, and before he takes his hand away, Yuuji is quick to hold him by his wrist. Not pulling, just having him there, in place.
“It’s true. I tried touching you before, but you didn’t let me. You had Infinity on when I tried to hug you from behind.”
“That’s impossible. I know how to sort everything by mass, speed, and shape and allow it to touch me. I’d have—” Satoru stops there. He wets his lips, ruffles his hair, and confesses softly, “I would have let you touch me.”
Yuuji looks surprised but recovers quickly when he knits his eyebrows together. “But back then, you didn’t let me touch you, and almost immediately you let Getou-senpai put his hand on your shoulder.”
Yuuji doesn’t look like he’s lying when he continues, “That’s when I got the hint. ‘Gojo-senpai doesn’t like to be touched’, and I thought that it was okay. Because I was just a kohai and Getou-senpai is your friend, but then I saw that you let Kugisaki and Fushiguro touch you too.”
Satoru frowns and asks, “When was this?”
“Back in April? Maybe the second week? I think it was the second week because there were a lot of Sakura petals falling. I remember seeing you had a lot of them in your hair and I wanted to—” Yuuji realizes what he’s saying and quickly clamps his mouth shut.
“You’re a stalker to remember that so well,” Satoru says, smirking and trying to seem more confident than what he feels. Inwardly, he’s thrilled.
“I’m not. I just—” and here, Yuuji looks up, meeting his eyes, “I just like you. I have since then, senpai.”
Satoru is not ready for the words, at least not for them to be spoken so directly out loud. His heart beats fast and loud in his ears, but he’s not ready to confess yet, not until all doubts are set aside and misunderstandings are cleared.
For the moment, he says, “April… ” and moves his hand to grasp Yuuji’s, holding him in place and reassure him that he’s taking his confession in stride. “Back then, I was still running Infinity manually.”
Maybe Satoru was aware of Yuuji being there—how could he not with his six eyes?—but chose not to turn it off because Yuuji wasn’t handsy with the third years yet. Could it be that Yuuji tried to touch him first? Not Shoko or Suguru? Him?
Satoru would have turned Infinity off if he’d seen Yuuji acting so friendly with Suguru because it would have meant that, sooner or later, he was going to be next.
“So, you didn’t deliberately push me away?” Yuuji asks, tightening his grip and looking hopeful.
“Of course not, idiot. Idiot! ” Satoru repeats for good measure, frustrated that it seems like everything was a huge misunderstanding. By the sheepish look on Yuuji’s face, he too seems to have caught up.
“But wait—” Satoru says, shaking Yuuji’s hand in exasperation. “This means that you never tried to touch me again?”
“You let others but not me! I felt so discouraged!”
“Aren’t you stupidly brave? The hell serves you the courage if you don’t use it! Senpai is disappointed, Yuuji!”
Yuuji seems more offended than hurt and rebukes, frowning, “Well, it wasn’t as if you tried to touch me either to let me know I was welcomed. Besides, you were always rude and snappy at me.”
Yuuji grips his hand harder in retaliation.
“I was angry because it looked like you isolated me. And how could I think of touching you when you looked as if you were scared and about to cry every time I tried to?” Satoru asks, and this time he pinches the back of Yuuji’s hand in vengeance.
Yuuji takes it back for a moment to shake the sensation off but gives it back for him to hold it.
“I already explained why I didn’t. And I wasn’t scared! I was so flustered and excited that senpai was going to touch me!”
“Is that your excited face? Because it sucks!”
“I can't help it, okay?” Yuuji defends himself. “Everybody gets nervous when the person they like touches them! On top of that, Gojo-senpai is so cool and handsome. It's too much for me!”
Yuuji's oblivious to the effect his words have on Satoru's ego. It's not the time to focus on that, Satoru knows and saves those words for later.
With that out of the way, he finally puts all the pieces together. He says, slowly and exasperated, “So are you telling me that you didn’t touch me because you thought I didn’t let you. But never tried to do it again because I didn’t?”
Yuuji frowns and purses his lips, looks at the ceiling as if replaying Satoru’s statement in his head again. Too convoluted for him to make sense of it on the first try.
“Yes!” Yuuji exclaims and nods. Then, he realizes it and looks at him in disbelief, “Really? Is that what really happened?”
“I can’t believe how dumb you are, Yuuji,” Satoru says, completely serious and acting like having the higher moral ground.
“Senpai, you didn’t realize this until now either.”
Satoru sighs loudly and states, grimacing, “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you. I’m never having a crush on anyone again.”
At his words, Yuuji squeezes his hand softly and asks, “So?”
Satoru looks at him with one eyebrow raised. Yuuji says, “You haven’t told me that you like me yet or even answered my question.”
Satoru’s blood has gone all to his face. Still, he feels like teasing Yuuji because he deserves it. A proper punishment for all the time Satoru thought he was in a fruitless, one-sided crush.
“You sound so certain that I like you, Yuuji,” Satoru teases with a smirk.
Yuuji frowns. “Please don't play with me.”
“You're such a rude kohai. Maybe I should teach you how to treat your senpai better?” Satoru chides gently.
“Senpai!” Yuuji prompts, impatient and expectant.
Satoru sighs with a soft smile, feeling benevolent enough to stop his teasing. He moves to sit on the bed and rests his forehead against Yuuji’s.
“Idiot,” he says slowly. “Isn’t it obvious? I like you too, and I’ll allow you to be my boyfriend.”
Yuuji’s laughter is full of mirth, and he’s so close that Satoru can feel the slight tremors of his body and his warm exhalation on his face. “That answer is so like you, senpai.”
“Shut up,” Satoru mutters, blushing.
“But that’s fine,” Yuuji continues, “That is how I like you.”
Satoru’s lips draw a stiff but honest smile. Having those words come so easily after being trapped in an unrequited crush is too much for him to handle.
Yuuji averts his gaze after a pause and licks his lips. Satoru follows the motion with eager eyes. Then, Yuuji looks at him again and tilts his head, prompting Satoru to follow suit and lean in. Satoru closes his eyes, and the last thing he sees is Yuuji doing the same.
Behind the darkness of his eyelids, everything feels more intense; the tickling sensation on his lips when meeting Yuuji’s warm, chapped, and—above all—welcoming ones. The soft breath falling and fanning his cheek. The small, gentle hand cupping his jaw.
Satoru loses himself to the sensations and commits them to memory. It’s incredible how many things he can pinpoint even with his eyes closed. How many places Yuuji and he are touching. It almost feels as if when pulling away, those places will be marked red and bright, tingling pleasantly for days.
Satoru can’t believe that this is only their first kiss and his chest feels ready to burst already.
They pull away, and Satoru finds Yuuji’s blushing and loving expression a couple of inches away. Briefly, he wonders if he’s mirroring his look.
After a pause, Satoru is the one that leans down first. This time, he kisses Yuuji with more confidence and enthusiasm. Yuuji winds up his arms around his shoulders and brings him on top of him as they slot their lips together, softly nibbling and biting each other.
“Senpai,” Yuuji moans breathlessly against his lips. “Touch me… Please?”
Satoru pats himself in the back when he doesn’t come from that. He wasn’t prepared for the words to be said outside his dreams by the real Yuuji — the solid, warm, and growing-hard-in-his-pants Yuuji —.
Satoru stops kissing him and places his hand on top of his clothed navel. Yuuji throws his head behind, bites his lips and whimpers. Satoru doesn’t know if it’s the fact that they’re both so touch starved for each other that every little thing is enhanced to a point it’s driving them mad.
“Yuuji,” Satoru says when he leans forward, searching for his lips again and rubbing his cock on top of his pants.
Yuuji jolts and gasps against his mouth. “Senpai…”
Satoru grunts, pleased that Yuuji is growing stiffer under his hand.
They just confessed to each other, and at the back of his mind, Satoru still keeps a little rationality to know that they’re going fast—way too fast—but Satoru doesn’t care. He’s been deprived of this for too long.
They both have.
Satoru tugs Yuuji to sit upright. He shifts to accommodate him so they’re facing each other and their crotches are flushed together.
“I want to touch you,” Satoru states, not as a warning or a request. Still, Yuuji nods eagerly, so desperately that Satoru’s ego inflates once again.
“Please.”
He unzips Yuuji’s pants and looks at Yuuji’s face before pulling his cock out of his briefs. When he does, Yuuji flushes and closes his eyes and presses his lips tightly in shame.
“Yuuji, you can touch me too.”
Yuuji opens his eyes and slowly, nervously, licks his lips before lowering his eyes to his crotch.
Satoru sighs through his nose when Yuuji takes his cock with nervous and clumsy hands. Satoru leans in again to rest their foreheads together and starts to pump Yuuji.
Yuuji mewls, and Satoru groans when Yuuji’s small hand strokes him, slow at first, then gaining a faster pace.
“Senpai, I wanted to touch you so bad. You have no idea— I’ve always wanted to — ” Yuuji’s breath stutters, cutting short his words.
“Yuuji, you idiot,” Satoru grunts. It almost sounds like a term of endearment when it is said like that, dropped along with a kiss against Yuuji’s cheeks, neck, and lips, “Stop saying those embarrassing things.”
Satoru will never admit that there’s a whirlwind of the same thoughts inside him. Words of lust and affection try to overlap each other, making a loud mess of voices inside his head. The one word that is clearer and louder above everything else is Yuuji’s name, said again and again, like a prayer. One that doesn’t make it out of his lips but is close to overflowing out of them.
“Senpai, I like you,” Yuuji says, panting loudly as both their hands work to take the other to completion. “I like you so much, senpai.”
Satoru’s navel quivers, the sensation of Yuuji’s hand steadily building his orgasm and his heartfelt confession is too much for him.
“Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji—” Satoru chants as Yuuji moans loudly. His dick is slick with precum, Yuuji’s so wet that the squelching sound makes Satoru’s cock twitch in Yuuji’s hand at the obscene sound.
A hand touches his face, and Satoru opens his eyes to look into Yuuji’s glazed ones. Yuuji’s lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed, and his expression twisted in pleasure. Satoru briefly compares him to the Yuuji of his dreams and declares this one as the winner. With just one look at his face, Satoru is pushed to the edge. Knowing that he’s the one that can make his kohai looks like that brings a new wave of pleasure makes his navel tighten, ready to explode.
Shit. I'm going to fall in love with you like this.
“Senpai. Gojo-senpai—I’m close,” Yuuji moans and Satoru hurries his pace, trying to make him cum at the same time that he is.
“Yuuji—like that, faster. I’m almost—almost—” Satoru growls as he reaches his orgasm in blinding ecstasy. His body shakes as pleasure travels under his skin in waves.
“Senpai!” Yuuji follows right after. He leans forward, resting his head on Satoru’s shoulders as he orgasms into Satoru’s hand, his warm cum, dribbling down it.
Both milk the other with soft and slow strokes as their pulses slow down to a normal pace. Yuuji is the first to move when he pulls away to look at him. He seems nervous, embarrassed but glowing with satisfaction and happiness. Satoru wants to keep kissing him.
“Um… I’m sorry, I made a mess,” Yuuji apologizes, looking at Satoru's hand.
Satoru frowns, regarding the one he made on Yuuji’s. He is uncaring when he instead addresses something more important, “You came a lot. Did you feel that good? Is senpai that good, Yuuji?”
Yuuji takes his hand away, finally letting go of him, and pouts. “You came a lot too, senpai. Does that mean I’m just as good?”
“Don’t talk back to your senpai,” Satoru says, dropping a bite to his cheek and, to Yuuji’s horror, cleaning his hand on the front of his clothes. He does it only because he can, only because watching Yuuji’s cute gestures has always been the reason for his constant teasing, and only because Yuuji being his boyfriend won’t ever stop him from wanting to mess with him.
“What are you doing?!”
“Retaliation,” Satoru replies, uncaring as he keeps dropping kisses on Yuuji’s neck.
Yuuji moans in protest and smears Satoru’s cum on his pants. That makes Satoru stop. “Did you just—?”
“Because you did it first!” Yuuji says. Satoru cleans himself on Yuuji one more time. This time, on his shoulder.
“No! Stop!”
They’re too focused on getting back to each other when the infirmary door opens, revealing both Shoko and Suguru with similar expressions of disgust.
“Attacking your kohai while he’s vulnerable in the infirmary,” Suguru says, “I didn’t think even you would be capable of something like that.”
Shoko says, “What else can you expect from a trash like him?”
“What?! No!” Satoru hurries to reply, “It wasn’t like that! He’s my boyfriend now! Tell them, Yuuji!”
Yuuji has gone limp in his hold, pretending to be unconscious the little fucker.
“Wake up! Senpai is never touching you again if you keep this up!”
That ‘wakes’ Yuuji up, but instead of addressing Shoko and Suguru, he starts bickering with Satoru.
“Senpai! You’re awful. Stop making such heartless threats!”
As the quarrel picks up in volume, both Yuuji and Satoru miss when Shoko and Suguru look at each other with tired smiles.
“Finally.”
-
It doesn’t take long for people to get the news that Gojo Satoru and Itadori Yuuji are now a couple. Especially because Satoru has taken the job to make everyone know.
The general response of the school population is one of reluctant relief and fond exasperation. Friends and teammates are happy that their dramatic and tearful love story — only considered like that by Satoru and Yuuji themselves because everyone else already knew what was happening—finally came to fruition. Their PDA though is something they can go without.
Satoru is still a dick and one that has added jealousy to his long list of shortcomings. That’s what Shoko and Suguru say, but they’re single-minded idiots and very much single in the romantic aspect too, so Satoru doesn’t listen to them.
Yuuji clings onto him like a baby koala. Sometimes, just because Satoru is too flustered to take it in stride, he complains loudly about it even if he too wraps his arms around his small boyfriend.
Kento is tired of being the target of Satoru’s unsubtle jealousy and Yuuji’s calm, worried one. Shoko pats his shoulder in understanding and just advises, “They’re both idiots. Hang in there.”
There are times where Satoru wraps both of them with Infinity, and Yuuji subtly addresses it is when he smiles knowingly at Satoru and sinks his face into his chest, softly murmuring, “I like you, senpai”. Satoru doesn’t know if that’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture or an innocent display of affection. Either way, he’s fine with both.
Satoru hardly says the words ‘I like you’ aloud, but the way he holds Yuuji in front of others in daylight or when it's just the two of them at night speaks in volume of his love and addiction for Yuuji.
Satoru can’t believe there was a time in their lives that they couldn’t — wouldn’t — touch each other. Those days seem so far behind, in a distant past that Satoru buries under the certainty that the warm, solid body in his arms brings.