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Suguru’s arm throbs with the pain, and he glares at Satoru as he pats his smoking uniform sleeve. Thankfully, red only brushed his bicep. He had his hookworm curse — lovingly nicknamed Hookie by Satoru — out and about, and it deflected most of the impact for him.
“Oops!” Satoru sticks his tongue out, rubbing the back of his head. “Why’d you get in the way?”
“I didn’t !” Suguru grits his teeth. “You need better aim.”
“I wasn’t aiming for you,” Satoru huffs. “Or you’d be down on the ground right now. Face down ass up, like an anime character.”
“You’re an anime character-” Suguru barks back, underwhelmingly. He’s too annoyed with the curse they’re hunting to think of good comebacks.
“Damn, you’re grumpy.” Satoru says. “I barely scratched you.”
Suguru looks at the wall that took the brunt of red, or where it used to be. “I thought you didn’t want to scratch me?”
“And I didn’t! If I wanted to, you’d be-”
“Face down, ass up, yeah, yeah. I got it.”
Satoru clicks his tongue. “Frankly, Suguru, do you think I have that little control over my techniques?”
“Well, I recall a basketball court torn to shreds.”
A groan. “God, you blow up a basketball court once—”
“Twice.”
Satoru glares. “-and suddenly you’re the basketball-court-blow-up guy. It’s like—”
He keeps rambling, but Suguru tunes it out, eyes widening as he watches the curse rise from the wooden flooring of the school, behind Satoru, arms ready to grab him.
“Oi, shut up.”
“No! I’m expressing myself. Part of friendship is listening, you know?”
“Shut up,” Suguru repeats with gritted teeth. “And turn around.”
Satoru tilts his head to the side, but, in a rare turn of events, he does as told. He turns on his heels, white hair catching on the artificial lights as he does so, and Suguru watches as his stupidly pretty face morphs into one of surprise.
He summons Hookie again.
The curse they’re hunting lowers it’s arms.
Satoru gets into position.
And—
The curse closes it’s arms on thin air. As soon as it realizes it failed, it bails again, seeping back into the floor like goo.
“Oh, now you turn on limitless?” Suguru barks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru narrows his glowing eyes at him.
“You know damn well-” he narrowly dodges an attack as arms shoot up from the ground, trying to grab him. “Satoru!”
“On it!” He rushes towards the curse that readily sinks into the floor yet again.
They groan in unison, which Satoru gasps at and points between them.
“Twinsies!” His face is bright and amused for a moment, before turning into a deep scowl. “This should be easier.” He says.
Suguru groans. “Don’t I know?”
“Do you see it anywhere?”
“Dude,” he huffs. “If you can’t see it, how could I?”
“Oh, right.”
“Maybe if we listen for it.” He turns his back to Satoru’s, and they wait.
As if on cue, the curse turns the corner towards the locker hall, getting away from them again, and Suguru grunts. It’s as finicky as it’s fast, and that’s starting to get to him.
“Stupid ass fucking—”
“Ass fucking isn’t stupid,” Satoru chimes in, beaming like he’s not just as pissed at this as Suguru feels.
“You’re disgusting,” He quips. “We need to catch this thing.”
“I knowww,” Satoru whines. “It’s too slippery. Usually I’m all for that but c’mon.”
Suguru grits his teeth, eyes burning with the last rays of sunlight of the day. When they got here, it was barely noon.
Satoru takes a deep breath and kicks a pebble with enough force it dents the edge of the wall. Suguru knows he’s annoyed, and he can’t blame him. They are better than some random level one curse that’s been snatching high schoolers and taking them to heaven knows where.
It sounded like a simple mission. Pull the curtain, get into the school, take out this curse and find the victims (hopefully) still alive. In and out, like a cakewalk. Sure, there’s the technicalities of it, such as the age range of the victims, which obviously prompted the elders to send high schoolers to fight this thing — Satoru ranted about it the entire ride here — and the unknown terrain, but it doesn’t make a difference. They’re the strongest .
This should’ve been dealt with by now.
But the curse is fast and, Satoru’s right, too slippery, and they’re both sticky with the goo it secretes. At this point, Suguru doesn’t even want to swallow the thing when they’re done. He wants it gone for good .
“Here, here~” calls the shrivelled broken voice of it, and Suguru catches a glimpse of its wavering arms as it rushes by again.
It’s toying with them.
“Satoru, I’m luring it your way again. Can you keep infinity up?” He rushes to cross the school hall. “Maybe if we trap it in the hallway we’ve got a better chance of fucking it up.”
“Hmm, yeah.” Satoru twists his lips, “If we time it right.”
Suguru nods. “So you gotta pay attention, then.”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many.”
Satoru mimics him in a mocking tone, but takes a deep breath and focuses. His hands lift up, and he pulls the blindfold, letting it fall to around his neck
Suguru feels a rush of something run down his spine, all tingly and funky. Satoru looks good like this, eyes narrowed and focused, seeing everything all at once. They trace over the school — first the floor, and then the walls — and on a seeming spur of the moment, they land on him.
Suguru wonders if he can see the exact shade of the blush that rises on his cheeks.
Satoru smirks, and the answer is clear in his face, but his eyes widen suddenly. “Behind you.” He warns.
Suguru gives the subtlest of nods, and waits. His hands are free and ready to summon Hookie the moment the curse touches him.
And touch him it does. The cold, wet weight of a hollowed hand lands on his shoulder, heavy like lead and pulling him down. He feels the soles of his feet start to sink into the floor, and panic fills his gut as he realizes where the victims probably are.
He turns the other way, already attacking. Hookie rises from behind him and before the curse can bolt once more, it attaches itself around its left arm.
Now next to him, Satoru points.
“Hookie got its arm, I’m gonna blast him with blue. Get Gaylord.”
Suguru summons his rainbow dragon.
“The victims are underground,” he says, “This fucker is sinking them into the floor.”
“Ew,” Satoru looks down, “But I can’t see anything in there.”
“Maybe it’s a pocket dimension thing—” he’s cut off as Hookie is thrown, landing right on top of him and sending him flying.
“Suguru!!”
Thankfully, Gaylord takes the brunt of the toss, keeping Suguru more or less in one piece, but his wrist is on fire. He looks down at it, and as soon as he realizes he’s able to move it, he’s back on his feet. Gaylord roars.
“I’m fine!” He screams back at Satoru. With a swift arm movement, he sends the dragon towards the curse.
The dragon squashes it with a paw, and for a moment, Suguru thinks it’s all finished, before it manages to squirm out of the grasp, stumbling through the gym floor.
“Nuh-huh,” Satoru smirks, appearing behind it in a flash.
His punch lands square on its deformed face, sending it flying once more, right into the waiting jaws of Hookie. It crunches down on it, cutting it in half then tossing it aside, and this time, when it falls against the wall and slides to the floor, it doesn’t get up again.
There’s a moment of silence in which they look at one another, and then Satoru cheers.
“Fucking finally, oh my god.”
Suguru chuckles, “Yeah, I thought—”
His eyes widen as people start to pop up in the ruined gym. Eight teenagers, one by one, just show up out of thin air. Apart from the fact they’re all clearly scared and confused, they seem more or less okay. A few uniform buttons missing, one or two ruined pant legs, but overall, okay. That says nothing about their mental state though.
One of them, a young girl, locks eyes with Suguru. She yelps, crawling towards another student.
The victims. Suguru breathes relieved, and puts on his best smile.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he says, softly, “We’re here to help.”
The girls look between each other. None of them seem too inclined to trust him, but it’s part of the job. He turns back, and signals for Satoru to call someone.
As if he had read his mind, Satoru’s already typing out a number on his phone when he turns. Suguru hears the start of the conversation (“Hey, Ijichi, we found the victims”), but smartly, he steps aside for the rest of the call. These people are already freaked out as it is, and Suguru knows it’ll take more than a little convincing to show them they’re the good guys.
And he was right.
It’s a long talk to get the victims to calm down enough to trust them. Suguru checks for any immediate first aid needs, but aside from one seemingly broken ankle that he helped keep elevated by setting up some chairs and a stool, there’s nothing he can do.
They try to explain as much as they can without exposing the world of Jujutsu, and luckily, it doesn’t seem like any of the victims has the ability to see curses. One of them, the boy that was taken last, starts to chalk the event up to a ‘supernatural freak encounter’, and Suguru goes along with it, not denying or confirming anything. It’s better if they believe this was a once in a lifetime thing (which, with some luck, will be) than to worry about it for the rest of their lives. He knows there’s no avoiding the trauma that comes with it, but this way at least they get some sort of explanation, and it isn’t exactly an outright lie.
And hey, maybe somewhere in the future it becomes a freaky tale to tell and spook their friends on Halloween.
Ijichi picks them up after the victims are on their way to the hospital. The ride back to the school is slow. Satoru and Ijichi engage in a way too deep discussion about the state of consciousness of Pokémon, with Suguru pitching in here and there to comment on which ones he thinks are cute and would fit his dream team. Satoru, as usual, judges all of his choices, which is a dumb idea, because Suguru will defend Spiritomb till his last breath.
The car rolls to a stop in front of the school, and Suguru can’t get out fast enough. If he has to listen to yet another item on Satoru’s List of Reasons Why Mewtwo Is Fuckable, he’s going to throw him out of the window. He waves Ijichi goodbye, catching his look of pure horror through the tinted glass.
“Ahhh, man, I’m beat!” Satoru stretches his arms above his head, wincing lightly.
“Me too,” Suguru opens the side door to the patio, roaming around his pockets for some change. He really wants a soda.
“That last punch took all my strength, I was sure it was gonna be a Black Flash,” Satoru looks at his palm as if he can see the phantom red glow.
“And in the end it didn’t even matter because I took it down,” Suguru shrugs, smirking.
“What? No way!” exclaims Satoru, indignant, “Did you not see me punch the actual living shit out of it?”
“I saw you deliver a blow after I weakened it,” he shrugs again. “Anyone could do it by then.” He keeps walking, “And Hookie got it.”
A squawk and hurried footsteps follow after a moment of what Suguru knows is shell shocked silence.
“That’s not how it works,” he says, arms crossed. He’s pouting, and it shouldn't be this cute.
Suguru shouldn’t think it’s this cute.
“Just admit I’m winning by one.” He stops by the vending machine, slides in the coin and punches the code for a coke.
The satisfying sound of metal hitting the plastic tray is music to his ears. He’s so goddamn thirsty.
“It was Hookie’s kill, then.” Satoru takes the cab from his hand and opens it, taking a long sip.
Suguru splutters, taking the van back, “Hookie’s kills are my kills,” he smirks. The coke is just the right amount of fizzy, tingling the back of his tongue on its way down.
He didn’t realize it was this hot out. Only a few seconds of walking and sweat is already pooling on Satoru’s chin, running down his long neck.
Suguru’s lips itch. It must be from the drink, not the fact he wants to taste his best friend’s pulse on his tongue.
Yeah, it must be the drink.
“You’re not ahead,” Satoru says, like a petulant kid arguing, and despite himself, Suguru feels inclined to argue back.
“I am.” He takes another sip.
Satoru’s fringe is stuck to his forehead, the locks almost forming a heart against pale skin.
He wishes he could see his eyes, but the sun hurts them.
It’s one of the reasons he’s come to loathe summer.
Satoru’s ridiculously open tank tops are one of the reasons he’s come to love it.
Balance in all things, and the like.
“Nuh-huh,” Satoru takes a step forward.
Despite himself, he takes a step back. “Yuh-huh.”
“Fine then, if you want to count a thrown win.” He can’t see behind the black screen of his glasses, but he knows Satoru’s rolling his eyes.
Suguru’s eyes narrow. Sometimes he forgets just how annoying his best friend can be, and how competitive he knows himself to be. “Shut up.”
“No, really,” Satoru sighs, “You can count it. It’s not my fault if you have to compensate for something.” He smirks.
It’s a shallow dig, but it’s too hot out, and Satoru’s neck is glistening with sweat, and Suguru’s competitive and dumb and a teenager.
The can splashes on the ground with a clank as he grabs Satoru’s wrists and slams him against the wall.
“Bet you’d like to know.”
“I’ve seen you in the locker room,” Satoru lifts a brow, teasing.
Suguru knows he’s falling for it. Too easily, too. But he can’t bring himself to care. “Exactly. I think we know who of us is compensating. Flat ass.”
A thigh slips between his own, brushing up, His eyes cast downwards.
He’s not hallucinating, but it feels like he is.
“Never had any complaints about it,” Satoru pokes his tongue at him.
“Oh, yeah?” Suguru’s voice falters. His eyes cast down again, and then up, “First time for everything.”
Usually, he’s better at this. The whole provoking each other thing is a big part of their friendship, as weird as it sounds. And, as weird as it sounds, so is… the other thing that’s happening.
Taunting. Never crossing the unspoken line they've both set, but always testing it.
Satoru grinds up, and the meat of his thigh rubs against Suguru’s cock head. His breath hitches, the ghost of a moan escaping his lips.
Satoru stares at him. Suguru knows his eyes are wide, but for once he’s thankful he can’t see them.
He wonders if the blush on his cheeks matches the blush on Satoru’s.
“Shut up,” he says.
“I didn’t say anything,” he answers, grinding his thigh again. Just once, lightly. No more than a brush.
Suguru moans out loud, this time.
His eyes widen, and he pulls away like he’s been burnt, running to his dorm.
If he jerks off biting down on a pillow to not scream his best friend’s name, that’s his business.
🖤🤍
Things are awkward.
They’re doing a good job at pretending they aren’t, but, they are.
The constant blush on Satoru’s cheeks is a clear indication, and so is the fact they haven’t been hanging out by themselves since the mission. Even Shoko commented on it, with knowing eyes and a veiled smile. Satoru told her they just miss hanging out with her, and Suguru knows none of them buy it, even though it’s true.
The issue is, Suguru doesn’t like this.
He’s grown rather used to being pestered day in and day out by Satoru’s springly voice, and he’s suffering from like, withdrawal or something.
So, he’s gonna put an end to it.
They just gotta force themselves through the weirdness, until things are normal again.
Until he forgets how good it felt to have Satoru’s thigh grinding on him.
At the very least he got new jerking off material, but… it’s not enough. He misses his best friend, and he’ll be the first to admit having awkward hangouts is better than no hangouts at all.
With as much determination as he can gather, he marches up to Satoru’s table during break. Shoko is out smoking, and Yaga is somewhere regretting his life decisions, probably, so it’s the perfect time.
He slams his hand down on the flat surface. Satoru startles even though he saw him coming.
“Hey! What’s the big idea?”
“Wanna go to the summer festival with me?”
“Oh.” He says, eyes big. Suguru can see them from the top of his glasses. He missed them.
“Yeah,” Suguru shrugs, trying to act cool, “It’s coming up. That’s a traditional friend thing, right?”
He smiles. He knows Satoru didn’t exactly have friends before Shoko and him, and he’s always going on about doing “traditional friend things”. It’s a bit of a low blow, but Suguru isn’t above using all the cards he’s got.
But, instead of the grin he was expecting, Satoru’s lips split into a small smile, awkward and weak. It’s still pretty, but not what Suguru longed to see all week.
“Yeah… It is. Yeah, that’d be great.” He says, looking down at his notes.
Suguru blinks. “Okay,” he nods, unsure of what else to do.
“Okay.” Satoru nods as well, lips pursed.
They fall into the now somewhat familiar awkward silence.
“Uh… do you wanna… see my new Pokémon cards?”
Suguru smiles. They’re awkward, but this is a good sign, right? Satoru wants to talk to him. “You know I do.”
There’s the grin he missed. Satoru’s smile lights up, sending a jolt of warmth that blooms right in the center of Suguru’s chest. Things are falling back into place.
Satoru rummages through his bag, pulling out his Pokémon folder, “I got that shiny Ivysaur I was missing. Had to buy like ten new packs before I found it though.”
Suguru has to admit he also missed that pout. He chuckles, pushing Satoru’s feet from the table to hop on it. “You’re gonna spend all your family’s money on cards at this rate.”
Satoru shrugs, “Eh, worth it,” he opens the folder and points at the new card. “Besides, you know we’re gonna be the most sought out sorcerers of all time. I’ll just earn it all back.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” He teases, taking the folder to look closely at the glaring Ivysaur. One of the shiny sparkles reflects a bright pale blue, almost a perfect match for Satoru’s irises. Suguru ignores that thought.
“Not if it’s the truth,” Satoru pokes his tongue out, and he resists the urge to do something stupid, like trying to grab it, or bending down to taste it.
🤍🖤
His yukata is too flowy, but Suguru kinda likes the breeze. He could do without the constant sense of danger, though. He has no idea what he’ll do if his balls pop out, but at least he’s not too hot.
Stupid Satoru and his stupid bets. Suguru had the worst time on their run the day before, and now he has to pay. He really should learn to say no to bets that involve clothing — the incident with Shoko’s skirt should’ve been enough — but to be fair, he didn’t think he was going to lose. Though, he should probably also learn to say no to bets that involve running, because Satoru is basically legs on a head.
“C’monnnnn, slowpoke!” Satoru whines, waving at him exaggeratedly.
“I’m going!” He grits, taking small steps to keep the wind from showing too much. He’s never gone commando before, and he’s not really sure losing a bet works as a get-out-of-jail card when it comes to accidental flashing.
Thankfully, Satoru’s not even that far ahead. If he stretches his leg, Suguru might be able to kick him, but that would require a dangerous amount of movement that he’s not comfortable with right now.
Satoru laughs, an unfairly perfect sound that fits the sweltering summer afternoon way too well.
Things have been better since the invitation. Slowly, they fell back into a comfortable spot of friendship and teasing and avoiding the many elephants in the room.
Like how grinding your thigh on your friend’s crotch is maybe a little too friendly for a regular friendship, or how Satoru now knows what his moaning sounds like — something that haunts Suguru on a daily basis.
“Is it that bad?” Satoru asks, tugging on the side of Suguru's yukata.
“Dude!” He slaps his hand away, pulling the fabric between his legs. “Not really,” he says, shrugging, “Just strange.”
“Yeah? Hm. Maybe I should try it sometime,” Satoru tilts his head.
Suguru won’t think about that statement for his own wellbeing and peace of mind. And because it might just become another elephant, and they’ve only got room for so many.
A group of screaming children run their way up the hill towards the festival. They brush past them like a scene out of an animal planet documentary — a group of gnus taking everything down in their stampede. One of them narrowly misses running into Suguru, while another one runs face first onto Satoru’s infinity barrier. She doesn’t seem to even notice, only stopping to pick up her oni mask and then going right back to running.
Satoru perks up again, “Let’s gooo!”
Suguru follows after him, up the hill towards the festive music and the smell of baked goods.
The festival tends to be busy and full of people — today isn’t any different. There’s families with kids, vendors, street artists and performers of all kinds. Satoru shoves himself into the crowd, pulling Suguru along.
“Come on!” He takes Suguru’s hand and threads through until they’re out near the games and food stands.
Suguru’s heart is beating too fast, and he takes longer than he should’ve to let go.
Thankfully, Satoru doesn’t seem to notice that, too engrossed in watching a couple of other teens tossing rings for a big stuffed panda.
“Guru!” He shakes Suguru’s arm, “We need to win one!”
Suguru takes a deep breath and nods, “We can do that,” he smiles.
He tries not to think about how that’s a very couple-like activity. This is Satoru’s first festival ever, of course he’s gonna want a souvenir. It’s just that, nothing else. Don’t overthink it, he tells himself, already halfway through overthinking it.
They’re through the third plushie winning game when Suguru spots a man selling paper lanterns. His eyes fit towards a light blue one decorated with lime-colored dragonflies.
He knows he’s threading dangerous territory, but this is another festival tradition, after all.
“I’ll be right back,” he says.
Satoru turns to look at him. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I gotta pee. Wait here, yeah? Get us that Pikachu.”
Satoru narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t buy it, but shrugs it off. Suguru waits for a beat, watching him toss and — of course — perfectly aim a dart at a pink balloon. He takes off after the lantern seller with his plushy sidekicks.
The man is kind enough to give him a discount. Apparently, his daughter makes the lanterns, and the one he wanted was her favorite one of the batch. Suguru happily takes it, back to where Satoru’s waiting, holding the promised Pikachu and yet another stuffed bear.
“What took you so—” His eyes light up when he spots the lantern, and Suguru hopes it distracts him enough not to notice the way he’s blushing.
“You got this for me?” He asks when Suguru hands it to him.
“Yeah. It’s your first festival. You need one,” he shrugs, “it’s like, a law or something.”
Satoru engulfs him in a tight embrace that knocks the air out of his lungs. “Thank you, Guru!” His voice rings by Suguru’s ears, full of wonder as he stares at the lantern with his big blue eyes.
“I thought it matched you,” he says.
Satoru’s face is tinted blue with the glow, but Suguru could swear his cheeks look pinkish.
He won’t find out if that’s the case, however, because Satoru’s stomach grumbles right then. Suguru takes the other stuffed toys, now a fully fledged plushie carrier. He doesn’t mind it much, though. As long as his best friend is happy, he’ll carry as many toys as needed.
Especially since, every time he won, Satoru looked at him with that twinkle in his godly eyes, and Suguru was left wondering how he’s supposed to deal with someone so ethereal.
“I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, I can hear that,” he notes.
It’s rare that Satoru is actually hungry. He’s always snacking on something, always has his pockets stuffed with sweets to aid with his technique. Brain food, he calls it. Suguru thinks half of it is just a convenient excuse to eat more sugar than he should, given that he wasn’t allowed any as a child.
“Let’s go, I want some takoyaki.”
“Oh yeah?” Suguru smirks, “Want some balls in your mouth?”
Satoru turns to look at him, eyes narrowing. “And if I do?”
Abort! Abort! Bad idea!
Suguru shoves him playfully. “Let’s just go, perv.”
Satoru tilts his head, and places his hands on his jutted hips, “Really? No clap back?” He asks, “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”
Suguru hates how easily that gets to him. He can feel the annoyance boiling over. He shouldn’t take the bait, he knows that — last time, it ended in… well.
But, Satoru just has a way of getting under his skin.
“I’m not a coward for not questioning your ball desires.”
Satoru shrugs, “Seems awfully cowardly to me.”
Suguru clicks his tongue. He takes a deep breath. “We're in public,” he warns.
He shrugs again, “So?” Something dawns on him, and he wiggles his brows, leaning in. Suguru can smell his shampoo, “Are you thinking something will happen, Guru?”
The alarm bells in Suguru’s brain were already ringing. They’re going insane now, full on mayday mode, but he’s already riled up.
“And if I am?” He mocks Satoru’s tone.
Satoru splutters. He moves in closer, and suddenly, Suguru is very aware that they really are in public, and also of how many plushies he’s holding.
“Well, I’m not a coward,” Satoru says.
Just like last time, he slides his thigh between Suguru’s leg. He leans fully in, until his lips brush his ear. “Are you?”
Something in Suguru snaps. Maybe it’s his sanity finally giving up and undoing that last threat that kept him together, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed — too lost watching Satoru — how antsy he’d been feeling about this whole day. He doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is — there’s no coming back from this decision.
“You’ve been provoking me since that day.” He says.
Satoru pokes his tongue at him. “So?”
“So, I’m not taking it anymore.” In a suave movement, he shifts all the plushies to one arm and uses the other to grab Satoru’s wrist, dragging them away from the crowd.
“Wait, are we about to fight? Cause I don’t wanna ruin the teddy bears,” Satoru says, following easily.
Suguru rolls his eyes. He stops behind what seems to be an empty vendor stall, and pushes Satoru against the wall. “For someone so skilled, you’re also really dense,” he says, “No, we’re not fighting.”
“Then what?” He asks, eyes narrowing in challenge.
Suguru pulls him in. “Then this,” he says, and crashes their lips together.
The bit about ruining the plushies quickly is forgotten, as they fall to the floor when Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s waist to pull him even closer and deepen the kiss. It’s messy. He’s done this before, once, in middle school, and it felt nowhere close to how this feels.
Satoru is electricity. His lips are a shock that course through Suguru’s entire body and make him tingly, yearning for more. He parts his lips, pokes his tongue against closed teeth that allow him in without any resistance. He tastes of spit and something vaguely sweet, and he smells like sunscreen and strawberry shampoo.
Suguru wants to drown in him.
They only part because Satoru pushes him away to gasp for air. “Holy fuck, I forgot to breathe,” he says, through big inhales.
Suguru chortles. Satoru looks at him with his big eyes, a bit watery from not breathing.
They laugh together at the absurdity of what just happened.
“That was—” he says.
“Yeah,” is the out of breath answer, and then, “do it again.”
Suguru doesn’t have to be told twice, but a hand on his chest makes him stop.
“Wait,” Satoru’s cheeks are bright pink, “Let's go in here? You…” he groans, “Youkindagavemeaboner.”
Suguru’s eyes widen and he looks down. Holy fuck. “Holy fuck.”
“Shut up,” he orders, and pulls Suguru inside the stall.
He dips down and grabs the plushies before Satoru closes them in.
In the complete dark, safe for the unnatural blue light of the paper lantern.
“It’s hard to see in here,” he frowns.
“You’ll get used to it,” Satoru says, “Or, I can guide you.” He puts the lantern down and takes a step forward.
“Okay,” Suguru nods, and suddenly, like a switch being turned on – haha, turned on – his brain processes what just happened, “I gave you a boner, huh?”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I gave you one first.”
The soft lighting bathes the stand in an ethereal glow. It highlights the sharp angles of Satoru’s face and his eyes. His hair is tinted blue by the shine.
He looks like an underwater painting, something whimsical and untouchable, that somehow, Suguru is allowed to have close.
“I’m—” he chokes on the words, unsure of what to say. Is this the moment where he confesses? Should he compliment Satoru? Does he pull him closer?
“Yeah,” Satoru nods, “Me too.”
“I liked that,” he says, “The kiss.”
Another nod, “That’s gay.”
Suguru chuckles. “Oh my god, shut up.”
Satoru laughs, shoving him playfully. “What, are you saying it’s not?”
“Can you stop running your mouth for one second?” Suguru asks, rolling his eyes, “You’re ruining the moment.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Comes the challenge.
And, somehow, this is much more comfortable ground for them. Satoru pushes, and Suguru takes the bait. That’s how it’s always been.
So maybe it’s familiarity, or a sudden bolt of confidence, or some secret third thing, but Suguru finds himself stepping forward, taking Satoru by the wrists, and pinning him to the wall like last time.
“Careful what you wish for, Satoru.”
Satoru smirks, “Why? I don’t like being careful.”
It’s a lame response, and usually Suguru would tease him for it, but right now he couldn’t care less.
He slides his thigh between Satoru’s spread legs, grinding up. “Yeah? Are you sure about that?”
The moan he gets in lieu of an answer makes his cheeks burn, tingles spreading up his torso.
“Feels good, right?” He asks, grinding up again. It also feels good on his thigh.
“Y-yeah,” Satoru whimpers. His eyes burn into Suguru, pleading silently.
He wants more.
It takes everything in Suguru not to come right then and there. He hadn’t even realized how hard he was, too focused on Satoru to notice it, but now that he did, that fact takes the forefront of his mind.
He wants to cum. And he wants to touch Satoru.
Those things seem to be parallel right now.
“Can I—” he stutters, not believing he actually gets to ask anything like this.
“Yeah,” Satoru repeats it. He leans forward, touching his forehead to Suguru’s, “Do it.”
Suguru knows it’s supposed to be a challenge, but it sounds more like a plea.
He doesn’t know what to do, but he acts on instinct — his hand slides down, following the line of Satoru’s waist and then the curve of his hip, until it slips inside the yukata. He grabs Satoru’s boner through his boxers, tugging experimentally.
“Ah— fuck ,” Satoru mewls.
The sound sets a fire in Suguru’s gut, pooling down to his crotch, and he feels himself leak onto thin fabric. He keeps jerking Satoru’s length, figuring that what feels good for him must feel good for the other boy too.
He seems to be right. His best friend writhes under his hand, a mess of little cries and moans, clinging to Suguru’s sleeve. He buckles into his speeding touch, and the slide must be rough, but he sounds heavenly — lost in it, as if Suguru’s touch is everything he’s ever wanted.
It’s intoxicating. Suguru forgets about his own pleasure, focused only on his best friend — the way Satoru’s eyes gloss over, the shine of the sweat that clings to his skin. His pink lips part open when Suguru rubs his thumb against the waistband of his underwear, finally daring to breach the last layer between them.
He’s hot. Pulsing in Suguru’s hand, dripping sticky warmth that he uses to aid the slide, exploring every part of him. His eyebrow twitches when Suguru’s fingers trace the vein on the underside of his length, and when Suguru drops to his knees, pulling the boxers down with him, he gasps.
“Are you— oh god, for real? Fuck, Guru—” he babbles, a little high and way too loud.
“Shh,” Suguru grabs the first thing he finds. “Bite on this.”
Satoru takes the stuffed panda, biting down on its arm. His eyes are cerulean pools that swallow him whole, and Suguru feels himself shiver under the intensity of them.
Fuck, he’s in love with his best friend.
He opens his mouth, leans in and licks the flushed tip. Satoru shudders like he’s been shocked, and Suguru is thankful for his own quick thinking — the panda muffles most of the suspicious sounds.
“Whiny,” he smirks, slapping the side of his thigh, “Spread.”
Satoru’s legs split open, his hands shaking against the wooden walls of the stall.
“So pliant,” Suguru teases, “How come you’re a good boy when it comes to this?”
Before Satoru can try to answer, he takes him into his mouth again.
It’s a strange sensation. His cheeks feel too full, stretched beyond what he’s used to, but the small bit of sting adds to it. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, begging for attention, but he focuses on the task at hand.
It’s salty. The precum smearing on his tongue doesn’t taste good or bad, but it’s weirdly addictive. He bobs his head, wanting to taste more of it, get to the real thing. Above him, Satoru is drooling on the arm of the poor toy, knuckles going white with how hard he’s focusing on keeping straight. His knees are shaking, and his cock buckles forward and into Suguru’s throat, making him choke.
He swallows around it, even though saliva is spilling from the corners of his mouth and he feels dizzy smelling Satoru’s soap from so up close.
It’s messy. The rhythm is clumsy and stuttered, and Suguru can’t take all of his cock. He wraps his fingers around the base and tries to tug in time with his sucking.
Satoru growls. His hips jut forward, but this time Suguru grabs his thigh, pulling off to look at him.
“Behave,” he orders. His voice is raspy, fucked out.
The disheveled mess that is his best friend can only nod, a strangled whimper leaving his lips.
His eyes are so wet, bottom lashes clumped and sticking to his skin.
He looks blissed out of his mind.
Suguru did that.
His head spins with the knowledge, and he mouths at the cock again, this time sucking more fervently.
The noise is loud and ringing in his ears — wet and slobbery, skin on lips, almost a kiss if you’re innocent enough to not listen for it.
He kinda loves it.
He squeezes the base, licking more of that tangy flavor, before taking him in again, deeper, deeper, deeper — until he chokes a little and pulls out, only to suck it right back in.
Satoru cries. Actual tears slip down his cheeks, making even more of a scene out of him. He looks debauched, sinful.
He comes with only a grab to Suguru’s shoulder as a warning, and Suguru laps up the taste that fills his throat, syrupy thick and piping hot.
He licks over his lips, pulling away. His hand is around his own length, and it takes only a couple pumps for him to spill all over his palm in heated euphoria, then drag Satoru down to him, pull the soaked panda — ew — out of his mouth, and kiss him again.
They part simply because they need to breathe. He’s huffing, chest rising up and down, and he can’t take his eyes off of Satoru, his pink cheeks and the way his hair is stuck to his forehead.
“Holy fuck,” he says, after a moment of light heaving in which he tried to even his breath, “I can’t believe I lost my virginity on a festival stall.”
Suguru chuckles, “That makes two of us.”
Satoru beams at him, head tilted, looking as beautiful and holy as an angel, but as devilish as a demon.
“So, are we boyfriends now?”
Suguru chokes on spit.