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Suguru had never really thought about the state of his decency, or the foundation of his ethical background upon which he would base his moral ground on; not something you spend hours agonizing over unless you’re faced with the predicament at hand.
Which, of course, would be a problem all in itself.
He knows he's a decent person, kind and sometimes even sweet to most people, yet slightly more strict and leveled when the situation calls for it. He knows his wrongs from rights, knows what type of behavior would be considered rude, obnoxious, audacious, or maybe even disgusting at times. He's very aware of his actions and how he presents himself, even in the slightly bent edges of their world, he makes sure to never be ill-mannered or anything unlike the person that he truly knows that he is.
So, when you really think about it, there should not be a reason why he's feeling the way that he is right now.
When it comes down to it, Suguru is a textbook example of a respectful man. He knows this, the people in his life know this, fuck, he could even pose as a paradigm for the perfect man if he wanted to. But sometimes, in certain moments that seem to be orchestrated by the devil himself, Suguru finds himself in situations that not even he knows how to handle. And unfortunately for him, they always seem to follow a similar pattern. Or should he say, they always seem to involve a certain individual that Suguru, in fact, does not know how to handle most of the time.
“Suguruuuuu,” Satoru whines, his impatience making Suguru fumble with the hotel card even more, “hurry up will you, I need to pee really bad.”
Suguru takes in a deep breath as he swipes the hotel room card in order to unlock the door, the action requiring way more concentration than needed. Satoru, delighted with the situation, pushes right through him with little to no regard for Suguru’s sanity, disappearing immediately behind the bathroom door.
Suguru just shakes his head and drops the card on the small coffee table in the middle of the room, looks around and bites down on his lip in concentration.
He tries to roll his shoulders, move his head, stretch his neck from side to side, anything to get the blood moving in his body and through his system. He can hear Satoru saying something, but it’s muffled by the walls and frankly, Suguru can’t find it in himself to concentrate enough to give a coherent response anyways. He really, really thought he booked two separate rooms.
And, fuck, he can already feel the familiar tension settling in his stomach, recognizes the slight tingle at the tips of his fingertips, as if a very light current of electricity is traveling all through his nervous system, giving him clear indicators in how he should approach his body if he wants it to calm down.
You see, Suguru is a creature of habit. A man with a set routine that has to be followed to a certain degree. He’s not too keen on switching things up, not entirely in tune with going with the flow. Of course he’s not a robot – he can change things up when needed, sometimes he even finds excitement in doing things a little differently – Suguru’s not entirely set in stone when it comes to following a plan. He just knows what he likes, knows how he likes and when he needs to do it. It’s just the way he is; it’s just the way he’s always been. Especially when it comes to nights like this. Nights when he’s paired up with Satoru, a mission on their hands that requires some effort on their part.
And he enjoys it, of course Suguru enjoys every moment he gets to spend with his best friend doing the things that they know best. He loves watching Satoru move gracefully, completely in tune with his own body and surroundings, he loves complimenting him with his own, entirely opposite way of engaging with danger. Whereas Satoru is nothing but casual confidence and fluidity, Suguru is precise strikes and concentration. They work together beautifully, completely synchronized in their approach. So yeah, he loves watching Satoru and being able to stand by him. But he also loves going back home after a long night and attending to his own…more personal needs.
Needs that somehow always seem to make Suguru hyperaware of them after nights like this.
Needs that, as his rational mind kindly supplies, should not even be on his goddamn mind when he’s sharing a room with his best friend.
Unfortunately for him, even though jacking off before sleep is an entirely normal, socially accepted action that isn’t really discussed much in crowds anyways, Suguru is not exactly in a predicament where it would be considered ethical in doing just that.
"Suguru," Satoru’s voice pulls him back to reality. “Earth to Suguru, helloooo?”
He waves his hand in front of Suguru’s face and he almost jumps back with how startled he is. Satoru just raises an eyebrow at him and smirks.
Yeah, he’s not surviving this.
“I’m sorry I got lost in thought,” Suguru rubs the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, willing his stupid fucking body to just calm down. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Satoru leans in and rolls his eyes dramatically, "Have you decided which bed you're taking?"
Suguru freezes. He hasn’t. In fact, he hasn’t thought about much of anything beyond the almost unbearable tension in his body, but the last thing he wants is to make this situation worse by acting odd or saying something stupid like the truth. So he just opts for the safe option.
"You can pick," Suguru finally says, voice flat, like he hasn't just been spiraling in his own head for the last twenty minutes. He forces his legs to move as he walks towards the large window and drops his bag onto the floor. "You can pick whichever you like better."
Satoru’s lazy, tired voice follows behind him. "Really? You sure?”
Suguru sighs and lets himself slump into the armchair right across one of the beds, trying his hardest not to look at Satoru, trying to ignore how good he looks tonight.
"I don’t care," Suguru answers, though the words feel empty. He can’t care. Not when the mere thought of sleeping across from Satoru makes the insides of his palms itch and the bottom of his stomach tighten up. So no, he can’t find it in himself to care about which fucking bed he’ll be suffering in tonight.
"Pick whatever." He repeats and rubs his eyes, sinks further into the armchair, thinking that maybe it could just swallow him whole. Satoru makes a delighted noise and stands in front of one of the beds, his back to Suguru as he observes which option he prefers.
Suguru has to suppress a groan when his mind, unhelpfully, supplies that the room even provided them a cuck chair.
Jesus fuck, he really needs to get off.
And it really isn’t normal. Surely, he must have a condition of some kind that makes him so goddamn horny whenever these situations arise. It’s okay to feel heated, a little turned on by seeing someone as graceful as Satoru in combat situations, maybe it's even okay to feel your skin heat up or stomach turn whenever someone like him gives you a suggestive look. Yet it surely isn’t normal to be physically unable to function every single time this happens. Suguru might need professional help.
He shifts in his seat and almost groans. This is ridiculous.
He just needs Satoru to pick a fucking bed already, because he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to coherently answer any more questions if the said man continues looking at him like that. Thankfully, Satoru seems to be blissfully unaware of Suguru’s lewd and borderline perverse thoughts and wastes no time in doing just that. He makes quick work of picking the bed closest to the window, drops his overnight bag in the middle of the room and sprawls out onto the mattress, his long limbs taking up far more space than necessary as he lets out an overly exaggerated sigh. His back arches slightly in an almost dramatic stretch, letting out another tired groan as his blue eyes flutter closed.
Suguru has half a mind to avert his gaze, not willing to put himself into a situation he couldn’t really justify if needed.
He’s got enough going on as it is.
But still, can feel Satoru's eyes on him, his gaze burning with questions Suguru doesn’t know he has the answers to. He knows he's been acting strange, a little off his usual rhythm, but there really isn't an appropriate way to explain it. He couldn't exactly say that the reason why he doesn't want to room with Satoru is because he has this weird fucking ritual of touching his dick every night while moaning his name; Suguru might not be a genius, but it’s easy enough to figure that it's not really an appropriate and not exactly the most sane thing to say to someone you're so close with.
And in a way, it might be Satoru's fault anyways.
It’s not really Suguru's fault that somewhere along the way Satoru managed to become such a problem for him, now is it? It's not his fault that his body started reacting to every single little thing Satoru does. It's not his fault that he's so goddamn gorgeous and utterly delectable, with a witty mouth on him. A mouth that can bring Suguru to the brink of insanity and drive him absolutely fucking wild with irritation and need, a mouth that he just want to shove his-
"Suguru," Satoru's irritated whine makes him jolt. He looks up, scared that somehow Satoru obtained mind-reading powers and is now aware of the very non-friendly thoughts his best friend has about him.
"Hm?"
Satoru's eyes narrow, as if he's trying to decipher whether there's actually something going on with Suguru or if he's just tired. Satoru rolls over on his stomach and rests his chin in his hands, eyes staring directly at Suguru and, fuck, there's no way he can't read his mind right now.
"I said," Satoru hums with a sigh and motions his head towards the bathroom, "do you want to shower first or should I go ahead?"
Oh.
Okay, he can do this.
"You can go first," Suguru eventually decides, mentally patting himself on the back with how normal he sounds. "Let me get situated first."
"Cool," Satoru says and hops off the bed, long limbs folding gracefully as he bends down to fetch his toiletries from his overnight bag.
And fucking hell, Suguru really needs some professional help.
Is he a bad person? Did he delude himself into thinking he was a kind, ethical man when he barely manages to hold back a moan just from seeing his best friend bend over in front of him? Maybe he should talk to someone about this? He's not sure how long he can keep living like this if every single time Satoru does anything -
Satoru turns his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “You know,” he says, stretching again, arching his back like an arrow as he turns his head to look him in the eye, “you’ve been acting weird ever since we got here. You sure you’re alright?”
Suguru freezes, suddenly very aware of how weird he was being.
"I'm fine," he quickly waves Satoru off, his voice much sharper than intended. “Just tired, ‘is all.”
“Hmm,” Satoru hums, but the concern in his eyes is brief, and he lets it go just as quickly. "Well, if you’re sure."
“I’m fine, ‘Toru. Just exhausted from all the walking around you made me do,” his faux complaint gives way to an endeared smile as Satoru snorts at his tone. “Now get your ass in the shower before I pass out in this damn chair.”
Satoru seems to buy it. He just nods and disappears behind the bathroom door. Suguru doesn’t move at first, doesn’t even fucking breathe before he hears the stream of the shower turn on. Once it does, he lets out a long, audible sigh and slumps back in the armchair, letting the oxygen leave his body and render him motionless.
He's not sure he can survive this night with all of his sanity in check, but he'll have to do his best.
After a brief moment of situating himself, Suguru finally gets up, his limbs feel heavy and rigid, the aftershocks of their mission finally making him aware of parts of his body other than his dick. He stretches a little and drops his stuff on his designated bed. Maybe he really does feel tired now.
It had been a simple mission, nothing worth more than a second thought as they did what they always do. Minor curses causing some havoc in the city? Taken care of in less than an hour. It was the kind of job they could do in their sleep, nothing to lose time and energy over. But of course, Satoru had insisted they make the most of the night. They were away from the city after all, there's no reason why they shouldn't explore as much as they could, besides, it's not like they had the chance to do that often.
And Suguru, being Suguru, had gone along with it, trailing behind Satoru and indulging him in every little thing he found amusing. And it's a dangerous thing, indulging Satoru like that. Yet Suguru hasn’t found a way to deny him of anything yet; not that he really tried to look for it anyway.
And it wouldn’t be weird, wouldn’t be anything other than two best friends enjoying themselves if Suguru wouldn’t have those feelings buried deep inside of him.
Yet, unfortunately for him, he does.
And when their hands entwine as Satoru pulls him toward yet another stand brimming with sweet treats, when Satoru whines at him, too tired to carry his own bags, when he looks at Suguru with those wide, sparkling eyes and insists he try yet another confection he's bought—Suguru lets himself believe, just for a moment, that it's real. And sometimes it does feel real, sometimes it feels like the realest thing in their fake little world.
Especially when Satoru seems to be on the same wavelength. There are times when he appears just as lost in their shared delusion, and in those moments, Suguru wonders if he might not be as alone in his feelings as he thought. It certainly doesn’t feel that way when Satoru forgets to let go of his hand, when his gaze lingers with a little too much tenderness, when he pulls him into a hug, tight and seemingly out of nowhere, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for them. And in a way, it is. Yet, despite all those little moments Suguru loves to collect and store in his head, they still seem to dance around each other in ways neither of them truly understand.
And its maddening, their uncertain dynamic driving Suguru absolutely fucking insane the more Satoru seems to be in tune with it.
So, he found a way to release his pent-up energy. A way that works for him, despite it challenging the universal code of ethics. Despite it being just a tad bit wrong if you think about it for too long.
Suguru knows this, he's always known this, yet he keeps indulging it all the same. And it's fine, it really is okay, as long as he's able to go back and hide away from the world, get lost in the sea of his hidden fantasies and pretend that the world works a certain way just for one night.
And he never plans it too, never really gives himself enough freedom to acknowledge the fact that the things that had become so routine to him are, in fact, not just a one-time thing. At first he tried to play it off, pretend like none of this was deliberate and he just accidentally imagined Satoru’s parted lips during one of his sessions. He’d never cum so hard.
And he was ashamed, he’ll give himself some grace for that. Truly, he was, for about fifteen whole minutes, but then he imagined it again and his body decided that it’s not done yet.
Suguru’s yet to sit down with himself and think this through, opting more for ignoring the issue until it stops being one and develops into one of Suguru's odd quirks that he doesn't discuss with anyone. Yet in moments like these, when he's not left to his own devices, it becomes painfully obvious how fucking deep int his shit pile he is.
And the worst part?
He did it to himself.
But it's how things have always been for him. He doesn't even know when it started, can't exactly pinpoint the moment when the never-ending thoughts of Satoru made his blood heat up and his head pound. He knows he needs to stop, knows that it’s wrong and shameful to indulge in those fantasies as frequently as he does.
It wasn’t like Suguru hadn’t tried to stop, too. There were nights when he’d been alone in his own room, hands trembling as he undressed, letting his mind wander down roads it never should have traveled. But it wasn’t hard to picture Satoru. It wasn’t hard to imagine him, his naked body beneath, above, all around him. The fantasies were always so vivid, so real, Suguru sometimes felt like he’d lost touch with his own reality. And when Suguru couldn’t hold back anymore, when the pressure inside of him became too much, he'd let himself give in. Fingers tightening around his own cock, imagining it was Satoru’s hands instead. Whispers of his best friend’s name falling from his lips as he tested his limits just a little more each night.
And if all of those times ended with Suguru orgasming with Satoru's name on his lips? Well, then it's between no one but God and Suguru himself.
Suguru is suddenly pulled from his thought by the bathroom door slamming open, a very flushed, very naked Satoru emerging from a cloud of steam with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.
“All yours,” Satoru sings and shoots Suguru a bright smile as he sits on the edge of his bed, the lingering water droplets sliding down his chest in rivulets that make Suguru just a little more insane with each passing second.
Now, in the sane portion of his mind, Suguru is fully aware that Satoru’s words are in reference to the now unoccupied shower, yet the larger, more perverse part supplies him with a different meaning entirely.
Suguru is starting to come to terms with the fact that he might, in fact, be a very sick, sick man.
He doesn’t stick around to figure out how sick he can get, though, not when Satoru lies back and groans in relief of finally stretching his limbs. Nope, he’s definitely not doing this right now. So, instead of testing his own sanity, Suguru darts into the bathroom and wastes no time in getting under the stream, opting for freezing cold water in the hopes that it’d calm his body down.
It does jack shit.
When Suguru eventually emerges from the shower though, Satoru seems to be already asleep between the sheets, and Suguru feels simultaneously relieved and disappointed all the same. He just looks at him for a second. He’s clad in plaid pajama pants and nothing else, the starched hotel sheets loosely wrapped around one of his legs as he tucked the blanket between his legs. He left the curtains open on his side, as he usually does, and the pale light from the moon cast a beautiful glow upon him.
Suguru tucks this image away in his brain, sealing it up and placing it on a shelf in the corner closest to his heart.
He doesn’t linger too long though, suddenly feeling the effects of their day, tiredness hitting him like a wave. Suguru crawls into the bed, tries to find a comfortable position, but fails to do so. He turns to his side, tries to lay on his back, puts the pillow over his face and even lays on his stomach for a while.
Nothing works.
He’s still fucking hard.
And this is where Suguru can’t believe his own stupidity. He should have taken the chance and just fucking did it in the shower, his muted whines would have been muffled by the shower stream, guilt washed away by the same water that was meant to purify him. He should have done it, but for some fucking stupid reason, he didn’t. Maybe it was his conscious holding him back, or maybe it was the fact that the object of his desire was just outside of that door, right there, half-naked, flushed from the shower, skin glistening with the water he didn’t bother to dry off. Suguru could help him out, drop to his knees and lick up every single drop of water running down Satoru’s skin, he could map out his flushed skin with his lips, tongue, soak him all up till they’re both satisfied.
His cock twitches again and he shoves his face in the hard pillow, trying to muffle the groan that threatens to slip out.
He’s so fucking normal about this.
He can’t believe he didn’t jack off in the shower, and now he’s stuck here in this uncomfortable bed, wrapped around the too thin sheets and dealing with a cock so hard it could probably give him brain damage from how much blood it’s storing.
And Satoru isn’t helping the situation at all.
He’s just lying there, sound asleep, looking as pretty as ever, naked chest rising and falling in even intervals, skin illuminated by the pale moonlight that makes him look even more ethereal. He looks angelic, serene, absolutely fucking divine and Suguru can’t stare too long. Not if he wants to survive the night and come back home alive.
It’d be ironic, wouldn’t it? Suguru Geto, special grade sorcerer, known for his combat skills, mature personality and charming ways – killed on a minor mission not by a n extraordinary curse or a sneak attack - by his own goddamn dick.
He muffles a groan again.
How is he able to control an abundance of various grade curses but unable to keep his own boner in check?
Fucking pathetic.
So much for curse manipulation, he can’t even manipulate his own boner to go down.
Maybe he can just…give himself some relief? No one would know, and if needed, Suguru could make himself forget it too. It’s not like he’s planning on straight up jacking off in front of Satoru, he won’t even wrap his fingers around his dick that hard, won’t even establish a rhythm if that’s what he needs to do in order to feel better about this.
He just needs something, anything, a little pressure to take the edge off.
Yeah, he’ll just press his palm against it, press it down a little, one of two times, just to give himself some pressure, just to will this annoying boner away. Then he’ll turn around, and go right the fuck to sleep. Because that’s the normal thing to do. And that’s what he’s going to do.
Sure, he can do that.
So he turns around, props himself up a little as he spreads his legs and lifts his hips up a little. It’s just a comfortable position, and in no way is it connected to the fact that Suguru has the perfect view of Satoru’s sleeping form right now. Who even designed this room? Usually the beds are placed next to each other, not directly across. It’s not even his fault if he steals a glance or two, it’s literally just the setup of the room. Yeah, that makes so much sense.
Without thinking too much about it, he drags his hand down and presses the palm of his hand over the bulge in his pants, almost instantly moaning at the relief it gives him. He catches himself just in time, though, bites down on his bottom lip and takes a second to breathe in through his nose. It’s not enough to make him lose himself, but the friction is just right, just satisfying enough to make his nerves ease up a little. He rolls his hips up experimentally, biting down on his lip again as the heat rushes all through his body and down south. It feels good, so fucking good, but it’s not enough.
He knows he shouldn't be doing it, knows that his actions are so far out of line and, honestly, he’s not entirely sure he could even look Satoru in the eye after this. Suguru knows that it's immoral and wrong and perverted and just plain fucking weird... so he gets a grip and does what any other respectful man in his situation would do: shakes his head a couple of times in disapproval at his own actions before moving his wrist again.
And that's all he can really do right now, especially when the pressure around his cock feels so fucking good. He shakes his head again and even sighs a little, letting the Gods above know that he’s disappointed in himself too. But that still doesn’t stop him from showing his hand down his pants and circling his fingers around the base of his cock. At least he can say that he tried everything to stop himself, right?
He squeezes at the tip a little, gathers the small amount of precum that he finds there already. He uses it to make the slide easier, almost holding his breath as he moves his hand up and down, squeezing a little at the base and flicking his wrist just right once he gets back to the tip of his cock.
And he is disappointed in himself, even a little mad with how good he feels right now. But how can he not when the pressure around his cock feels so right, when the view of Satoru's bare chest washed in the blue light is right fucking there, right in front of him. He's so close, Suguru could probably touch him if he came just a little closer, scooted just a little further down the bed. But he wouldn't dare, not without Satoru wanting him to. So, instead of doing that, he just stares, takes the sight in completely, allowing his eyes to rake all over the exposed flesh and sinewy muscle that Suguru knows would feel good under his touch. Suguru tries to match his strokes with Satoru's breathing, and it might be weird to him tomorrow, but right now, he can barely form a coherent thought with how intense the pleasure is.
Suguru allows his eyes to wander the faster he works himself to completion. His eyes rake up, pupils dilating as his gaze settles on Satoru's neck, long and slender, not unlike a swan's. And that's where his imagination starts to take him places he can’t even pretend to be ashamed of.
He imagines his fingers wrapping around Satoru’s neck as he’s beneath him, putting just enough pressure into his touch to make his eyes widen but not enough to make him lose control. He’d press his lips against the thin skin there, breathe in his scent before sinking his teeth into the unblemished skin, promptly marking Satoru as his. He squeezes his cock at the tip again, letting out a little hiss as he gathers more precum.
Suguru slows his strokes a little, not wanting for this to come to an end so quickly; not when he's already so far in deep with his fantasies. His eyes finally take in Satoru's lips, plush and pink and slightly parted as he huffs out little breaths. They're shiny with saliva and the residue of his lip gloss that drives Suguru absolutely fucking insane. Satoru has a habit of reapplying the clear liquid to his lips so often that Suguru has found himself fantasizing about how that shiny substance would look like smeared all over his cock as he forces Satoru to choke on it. he'd look so pretty like that too, his pink lips swollen and shiny, stretched around his dick, cheeks flushed and wet with tears as he looks up at Suguru, an almost pleading look in them, trying to communicate all the love and affection while his mouth is too busy doing just that.
Fuck, Suguru almost cums at the image of those eyes. So bright and enticing, as if they're capable of bringing anyone to their knees with just one look. And Suguru would gladly get on his knees for Satoru, he’d ask no questions and do as he’s told without thinking twice about it. Suguru has to grip himself tighter at that thought, squeezing his fingers around his cock and almost moaning out loud as he keeps gazing at Satoru's eyes, fighting the urge to bring himself to completion as those long eyelashes bat down and stare at him in confusion-
Wait.
Eyes?!
"FUCK!"
Suguru shrieks, his face flushing so hard it feels like it’s going to catch fire. He jerks away from Satoru’s confused, wide-eyed gaze with such force that his still rock-hard dick nearly gets bent in the process. His pajama pants are half way around his ankles, and his heart is hammering in his chest like it’s trying to burst out of his ribcage. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.
He’d gotten so lost in his fantasy—so deep into his own messed-up thoughts that he didn’t even notice Satoru had been awake for who knows how long. And now? Now he feels like he’s about to fucking die. The sheer mortification that floods his system is so intense it almost makes him pass out. And honestly, maybe it’d be better that way. Maybe he can bury his face into the pillow and deprive himself of oxygen, put his traitorous body into a coma and avoid this entire situation altogether.
The worst part? His dick is still throbbing painfully, and the very last thing he wants right now is to be caught like this—panting, half-naked, and rock fucking hard in front of the one person he’d never want to be caught like this by.
And oh God, he was staring at Satoru. Looking right at him and jerking off while Satoru was literally lying next to him. He wants to scream. He wants to scream so fucking bad, but all that comes out is a strangled whimper as he curls into a ball and tries to hide away from the world.
"Suguru."
Suguru physically cringes, like someone’s just plunged a knife into his chest. Satoru says his name so softly, but there’s a strange note of confusion, maybe even concern in his voice. And it’s the way Satoru says it, like he’s some kind of wounded animal in need of gentle handling. It makes it all worse. He can’t even begin to process how awful this situation is. He needs to explain himself, but all he can do is ramble on little I’m sorrys that don’t even make sense to him.
Not that there’s a "good" way to explain why he was jacking off in bed right next to his best friend, but if there was, this would definitely not be it.
Still, that’s the best he can manage right now.
"Satoru, f-fuck," Suguru stammers, his voice shaking as he tries to form a coherent sentence. But it’s no use. His brain is spiraling so hard with adrenaline and embarrassment that the words are coming out all fucking wrong.
He’s tangled up in the mess of his panic. He feels like his body is vibrating, his hand mindlessly clutching the sheets to his face as if he can’t quite convince himself to let go.
“I’m so—" he cuts himself off with a groan again. Suguru can’t even finish the goddamn apology. How could he? This is beyond pathetic.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I—oh my god, I—fuck, Satoru, I’m so fucking sorry…”
He’s practically begging for mercy, his whole body trembling from the sheer force of his shame. He’s literally dying here, and if there were any way to crawl into the deepest hole and never come back, he'd do it in a heartbeat. “I’m so fucking sor-“
“Why’d you stop?”
Suguru’s brain short-circuits.
Huh?
Did he hear that right?
“Satoru, what-“
“Why’d you stop, Suguru?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, his voice stern and clear as he raises himself up to sit upright, getting a clear view of Suguru’s hunched over form.
Suguru takes in a deep breath and risks a look. Satoru looks completely awake now, his eyes bright and curious as he looks at Suguru with an expression that holds no malice in it. It makes Suguru feel a little better, knowing that Satoru isn’t mad at him, but then again, none of this is making any sense or doing anything to ease up his own current confusion.
So he just rolls the words around in his mind a little, tries to process them the best to his abilities.
“Do you…” Suguru pauses for a second, trying to gather his next words in a complete sentence before he opens his mouth again. Is he reading this right? Did Satoru really say that in that tone, or did he really just die and get trapped in one of his perverted fantasies?
Satoru just looks at him expectantly. Suguru tries again.
“Do you…not want me to stop?”
Suguru says the words like he’s testing them on his tongue, trying to weigh their implications in his mind before vocalizing them.
Satoru just licks his lips, his eyes wandering for just a second before they settle back on Suguru’s.
“Do you want to stop?”
It’s the way he says it, as if giving Suguru a way out, a possibility to turn him down and probably forget that this ever even happened. And that’s exactly what Suguru has been praying for just moments ago. However, a lot has happened in just a few moments, and Suguru doesn’t find himself reacting right away. He thinks about it though, runs the escape plan in his head a couple times, understands that all he has to do is to say the words and they’ll go back to the people they were five minutes ago.
And it does seem like a sweet, extremely considerate offer, one that would maybe even fix this entire situation and bring their dynamic back to what’s familiar and explored.
He should say it. It’s a great offer.
Oddly enough, Suguru doesn’t find it in himself to show any indication of taking Satoru up on that offer.
And honestly? He finds that he doesn’t mind it all. Maybe it’s the fact that they’ve been dancing around each other for years now, or maybe it’s the fact that Satoru doesn’t seem to be turned off by any of this, in fact, it seems to have the opposite effect on him, which, in turn, makes Suguru even more delusional.
“No,” Suguru finally breathes out, as if testing the taste of the word on his tongue. He scoots up the bed again, resumes his previous position slowly and finally dares to catch Satoru’s gaze again, still not entirely sure of what he’s doing. “I don’t.”
“Good,” Satoru hums and he almost looks relieved. “Then don’t stop.”
Suguru exhales, deep and slow, barely controlled as he nods, still not entirely convinced that this entire thing is nothing more than a hallucination.
Nonetheless, he decides to go through with it, pretending that he even had a choice to begin with.
Suguru leans back against the bed a little more, bends his legs just a little, almost mimicking Satoru in the way that he lays himself bare before him. His breathing finally slows just enough to appear normal, the heat slowly spreading through his body for entirely different reasons now. He’s a little calmer now, at least enough to collect himself. The sheet is still wrapped around his waist, but it does little to hide the fact that he's still painfully hard, aching in a way that makes his mind deprived of reasonable thoughts.
He can’t believe they’re actually doing this—yet here he is, hooded eyes locked with Satoru’s darkened, uncharacteristically interested ones. Suguru’s never seen him look at him, at anyone, like that. It makes him crave more, makes him want to discover things he never even knew existed.
He should stop. He knows that. They both know that.
But he can’t. Not now. Not when Satoru’s given him the green light. It’s like he’s been handed a key to a door he’s never dared to open all by himself. But as Satoru adjusts his own position on the bed without breaking eye contact and Suguru notices the small tent in his own pajama pants – well – it feels like Satoru just turned the key himself.
Yet Suguru still isn’t sure how should he proceed.
Does Satoru want to watch? Does he want to instruct him? The mere thought of being guided like that—of Satoru telling him what to do, how to do it—makes Suguru’s chest tighten and his cock throb, makes him twitch and take in a sharp breath to calm himself all over again.
His mind is so fucking noisy, spinning in circles, trying to map out how it all went from him being caught to him being encouraged to continue. He doesn’t even know what this is anymore, all he knows is that his hand clenches around his cock again, involuntary. He didn’t mean to, not really, but his body is acting on its own at this point, out of his control.
Satoru’s gaze is sharp, unblinking, as if he’s studying Suguru closely. He’s not even hiding it now, the way he’s watching, soaking in the details. Suguru wants to look away. He should look away.
Yet he doesn’t.
“Go on,” Satoru says softly, his voice now lowered to a gentle command. It’s almost like a dare. “Don’t act all shy now.”
But Suguru isn't sure what to do. He's not sure of how much he's allowed to do, how much Satoru wants him to do.
It's not like he engages in these things with close friends often, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Suguru has absolutely no fucking idea how he should act right now.
And what happens after this? Do they talk about it? Should they maybe talk right now, get this over with and sketch out a contract that gives them both clear guidelines on how to act the next time they're caught in a position like this?
Will there be a next time? Fuck, Suguru really, really hopes so. They haven't been here for too long, but it's no mystery to him how his insides turn every single time he catches Satoru's gaze, so yeah, he would like to do this again.
But he needs to survive this first, and if Satoru keeps looking at him like that and saying the things that he is, he wouldn’t bank on him making it to next time.
But Suguru isn’t backing out either. Especially not when Satoru speaks as if he’s asking Suguru to keep going, to push forward, to prove something. And fuck, Suguru hates how badly he wants to do it.
And so he does it, cause just as his mind supplied moments before, he’d do anything Satoru asks of him.
He lets his fingers curl tighter around his dick again, his movements tentative at first, making him hiss at the contact. His lips part in a shaky breath as he moves his hand once, and for a moment, he considers stopping—saying it was a mistake, but those words don’t even completely form in his mind. He doesn’t want to stop.
So, he strokes himself again, the motion lazy and controlled, not enough for him to get lost in the sensation. Then he rolls his hips up a little, a small, experimental movement that makes him buck up in his loose fist. Suguru bites the inside of his cheek, tries to swallow down the noise that’s threatening to spill out as soon as Satoru’s eyes glaze over. They never lose that eye contact either, as if daring each other to look away first.
But it’s not enough for Suguru.
He wants Satoru to guide him. He needs him to tell him what to do.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Whatever you were doing before." Satoru hums, almost disinterested in how desperate Suguru sounds. “Didn’t seem like your first rodeo, Suguru.”
And he’s doing it on purpose, Suguru can tell. For some unknown reason, Satoru wants to seem like he couldn’t care less about Suguru being in this state - all hard and bothered because of him, desperately humping up into his fist just from some mere eye contact. But Suguru can tell that he’s affected, he’s known him long enough to notice the little details that give him away. The dilated pupils that make his eyes seem a little less blue, the slight flush on his cheeks that scatters down his neck, the uneven, shallow breaths that make his chest rise and fall in uneven intervals, the way his fingers clench around the sheets as if he’s trying to ground himself in this moment.
Yet Suguru plays into it. And honestly, it makes him even more eager to please.
There seems to be a mutual understanding of the dynamic between them for now, a common need that urges Satoru to continue and Suguru to obey without thinking too much about it.
"Show me how you make yourself feel good, Suguru."
Suguru almost drools at the way he says it.
He catches himself just in time, though. He just nods and moves his hand again, up and down, slow and controlled. And fuck, whatever justifications his brain tried to come up with evaporate the moment his calloused palm squeezes around his dick tighter. Satoru’s eyes are intense, following his every movement, not willing to wander away for even a second. It’s almost like he’s testing him, trying to evaluate how bad Suguru wants this. And he wants it so bad. It makes him want to do his best, to put on a show, to prove to Satoru that he can be good, that he-
Satoru tsks disapprovingly and it’s almost embarrassing how badly it affects Suguru. He doesn’t have to wonder what he did wrong, though, not when Satoru tuts his head in dissatisfaction and purses his lips.
“Move the sheet, Suguru,” the way he crosses his arms over his chest makes him look almost bored. Still, he runs his eyes all over Suguru’s disheveled form, staring almost judgmentally at the thin sheet that’s obscuring his view. “Let me see everything.”
Suguru might be embarrassed about the whine he lets out later, but right now, it only makes him throb even more. So, he does as he’s told.
His hands tremble as they reach for the sheet, fingers gripping the edge just slightly. Satoru tilts his head when Suguru doesn’t pull it away immediately, an expectant look in his narrowed eyes, as if he’s daring Suguru to do anything other than what he’d just instructed.
Suguru finds that he quite likes this, likes testing Satoru’s patience in this way, as if it’s confirmation all in itself that he’s not the only one who’s affected here. And truthfully, that’s not the dynamic Suguru usually goes for. When it comes down to it, Suguru has always prided himself in being the dominant one; he takes pleasure in instructing his partners on how to do the things that make them both feel good. He enjoys the bratty ones too, and just the thought of having to deal with Satoru, the brattiest fucking being on planet earth, in such an environment, makes him so fucking hard it’s borderline painful. But they’re still not entirely sure where they’re going with this, and truth be told, Suguru isn’t even sure if this is a one-time thing. So for now, before he figures out the reality of their situation, he’ll go with it, indulge in whatever he can get. It’s not like he’s not enjoying this either.
But next time, though, next time he’ll make Satoru fucking beg for it.
With those thoughts in his mind, Suguru finally pulls at the sheet, slowly at first, as though testing the waters, searching Satoru’s face for any sign of hesitation, any reason to stop. But there’s nothing—nothing but Satoru’s eyes, piercing and expectant, locked onto his every movement.
Suguru’s breath catches as Satoru shifts on the bed suddenly, adjusting his posture and leaning in slightly, as if trying to get a better view. In response, Suguru bends his knees a little deeper, a small arch forming in his back as he gets in position.
Finally, the sheet drops from his lap and Suguru has to suppress a moan at the sharp intake of breath that seems to be ripped out straight out of Satoru’s lungs.
But Satoru doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t need to. His presence is enough to make Suguru feel as if he’s on full display, everything he does scrutinized, analyzed. He doesn’t even realize how much he's giving in; how much he's allowing himself to be controlled by Satoru's indifference.
He fucking loves every second of it.
And Satoru, still the picture of lazy elegance, watches it all unfold with a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. There's no praise, no encouragement, just that quiet, almost bored gaze, as though Suguru’s every move is nothing but expected. And maybe it is, maybe they both know the power Satoru holds over him.
“Look at you,” Satoru finally says, eyes flashing as he takes in the sight before him. “Who knew you were so desperate, hm?”
Suguru chokes on a whine, his cock twitching pathetically against his stomach at the words.
“Satoru, I-“
“Tell me, Suguru,” Satoru cuts him off with a sweet smile, his hands falling to his hips as his fingers skim over the waistband of his pajamas, not really doing anything, just teasing the elastic band a little. “Do you do this often?”
“I don’t-“
“Does it get you off?” Satoru turns his head, white hair fanning over his slightly flushed face, genuine curiosity in his eyes as he ignores Suguru’s pleading whines. “Did watching me sleep get you so worked up you just had to act on it? Or were you imagining something else?”
Suguru stays silent for a second, his thoughts flashing back to the lewd images plaguing his head just moments before. He’s not sure he can admit to them, but the rush of heat to his face must have exposed him since Satoru just smiles, his fingers snaking below the waistband of his pajama pants a little, making saliva pool at the bottom of Suguru’s mouth. Butt they don’t go further, as he’s teasing himself with these little touches.
“You were, weren’t you?” Satoru hums and fixes him with a knowing look. “Tell me then, what got you so worked up?”
“Did you think about fucking me, Suguru? Did you think about bending me over and making me take it? Or maybe you imagined me riding you, putting in the work just to make myself feel good on your cock, hm?”
Suguru feels like he might faint. He works his hand faster, squeezing his cock at the base and just holding it there, too afraid of shooting his load just from a few touches and Satoru’s lewd words. And honestly, who would blame him? When Satoru looks like that and talks to him in such a way; he’s surprised he even managed to hold out for so long.
“Please,” Suguru’s voice cracks, desperate, the word a broken plea. He’s not even sure what he’s pleading for.
Satoru just hums in response, not even glancing at him, the same bored, almost amused expression still on his face.
“Please what?” He doesn’t hurry his words; each one seems to drag out, slow, as though he’s enjoying Suguru’s desperation. “What do you need, Suguru?”
Suguru bites his lip hard enough to taste the sharp tang of blood, his chest heaving as he struggles to hold back.
“I want to see you too,” he whines, the words slipping from him like a confession. “Please, take them off.”
Satoru’s eyes flicker toward him for a moment, and he lets out a soft chuckle, a sound that makes Suguru’s fingers work himself a little quicker, makes his hips roll a little faster.
“Well, when you beg so pretty like that…” The words trail off in a mockingly affectionate tone, but Satoru doesn’t give Suguru the satisfaction of an immediate response. Instead, with a fluid motion, he pushes himself up from where he’s sitting, knees sinking into the mattress as he kneels, his posture now towering over Suguru.
Suguru doesn’t really know what to expect, can’t seem to determine what Satoru has in store for him now. Maybe he’ll just tease him, drop a few sharp words his way and instruct Suguru to cum all on his own. Maybe he’ll tease him a little, show off some skin and lay back down, a cruel laugh on his lips as he leaves Suguru hard and flustered. Maybe he’ll show him some grace and take off the annoying pajama pants, spread his legs and join Suguru in their little affair.
What he didn’t expect, though, was for Satoru to look at him with darkened eyes, as if he’s holding on to a secret only he knows, a secret he’s still not sure he wants to share. Suguru holds his breath for a moment, watches him run his fingers down his chest and stop just above the waistband of his pants. Suguru can’t help but imagine his own hands mapping the paths of Satoru’s skin, gripping his sides and pinching his nipples as he teases him, makes him twitch and tremble before giving in. It makes him take in a deep breath, eyes still glued to Satoru’s long fingers that now dip below the fabric around his hips and pull down just a little.
Suguru chokes out a moan.
Lace.
Black lace.
Satoru is wearing black lace panties.
Yeah, he’s not surviving till next time.
His brain is unable to process anything right now, he doesn't even feel his own body anymore. All he can see, all he can think of is the black lace panties that Satoru is wearing right now. The black lace panties that he's allowing him to see. Suguru swears under his breath and leans in a little, back straightening up in an instant, subconsciously trying to get a better look before it's taken away from him forever. And it's not like he didn’t know Satoru sometimes wore underwear like that, it's more like seeing it, right in front of him, made it real.
And truthfully, Suguru feels like he might have blocked that information out entirely. Partly because he feels like it's invasive but mostly because just the mere idea of Satoru wearing lace underwear makes his dick so incredibly hard, he's not entirely sure jacking off would even help him. So yeah, it's to keep his morals and his dick in place.
But now, in this entirely too small hotel room in the middle of nowhere, Satoru doesn't really give him a choice to choose peace. Of course, Suguru knows he can back away anytime, but his brain wouldn't even supply such a tactic; not that his body would even comply if he did decide to go through with it. Not when Satoru slowly dips his fingers under the thin elastic of the underwear and tugs it away from his skin, holding it taunt for just a second before letting it snap back against his skin. Suguru swears his dick jolts at gasp Satoru lets out. He probably could cum just like that.
"Do you want me to stop?" Satoru's voice is clear and careful, as if he's once again giving Suguru a way out before neither one of them could justify it anymore.
And Suguru just freezes for a brief moment, gathers all his energy and tries to will the blood from his dick to go back to his head, because right now, he needs to think. Instead, his dick gives a weak twitch at the tone of Satoru’s voice, refusing to give in to the best of Suguru’s efforts and once again proving that it might just be completely separate entity fron Suguru himself, one that has no regard for Suguru’s dignity and tends to react violently to the mere thought of his best friend.
Maybe it’s not even Sugru’s fault he’s like this at all, maybe his dick is just out of control.
But he can worry about that later, right now he needs to remain calm and assess the situation at hand, figure out how badly he fucked up and if this is salvagable. But most importantly, he needs to figure out if he wants to salvage this at all - because they still can.
They could. Maybe they'd be able to pretend that this was just a momentary lapse in judgement, a stupid decision that thankfully didn't go further than a few questionable actions. They could laugh it off and tease each other about it after they get over the initial awkwardness. Suguru could ask him to stop, to pull his pants back up and go to sleep, pretend like none of this ever happened and -
He'd actually rather fucking die than do that.
Maybe he and his dick are one, after all.
So, he lets Satoru know, as pathetic as he might sound right now, Suguru does not want to die.
"No!" he almost shouts and surges forward even more, his body now at the edge of the bed as he gives Satoru the best imitation of puppy eyes he can muster in a situation like this.
And it seems to work, since the action earns him an amused head tilt from Satoru. "I swear to God Satoru, if you stop now I'll fucking-"
"Okay, jeez, just making sure," Satoru rolls his eyes, a small, a little endeared smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who knew you were so fucking needy, Suguru. You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?"
"It's just-," Suguru stars but cuts himself off before he says something so fucking embarrassing, not even his dick could help him.
He hisses out a strained sound instead and looks at Satoru with pleading eyes. Communicating the fact that this is just not fucking enough, not when they’re both acting like this. And they seem to understand each other, seem to know exactly what they both need right now. Satoru just gives him a little nod and Suguru doesn’t waste a moment more.
He moves off the bed, his knees hitting the rough carpet floor as he looks up at Satoru kneeling on the bed before him. "Fucking look at you, 'Toru. So fucking pretty."
"Yeah?" Satoru mocks and licks his lips, his fingers quickly tugging down the pajama pants and letting them pool around his knees. "You think I'm pretty?"
And he sounds genuine, like he really wants to know whether Suguru actually finds him pretty or is he just fond of using cliche phrases that seem to be acceptable in situations like this.
And fuck, Suguru might actually die just from his tone alone.
Does he think Satoru is pretty?
Pretty might be an understatement of how goddamn gorgeous Satoru is to Suguru.
Truthfully, Suguru can't even begin to explain how absolutely divine he finds Satoru to be. And it can’t be healthy. It can’t be considered normal or even sane in the way that Satoru seems to lead him right through the doors of his sanity every time they’re together. He wants Satoru to know how he feels about him, how badly Suguru wants, needs him every hour of every day. He wants him to know that Suguru would be thankful for everything, anything that Satoru decided to give him. Fuck, even if Satoru chose to wrap his hands around his neck and take his last breath away, he'd probably thank him for it, he'd fucking thank Satoru for laying him to rest in such a beautiful way.
But maybe that's an entirely different conversation, one that shouldn't involve Suguru's still rock-hard dick leaking profusely against his stomach as he kneels in front of his half-naked best friend.
He saves that conversation for later, it's not like he can find the words right now, anyway. And he doesn't, he really doesn’t, if his barely contained whine is anything to go by.
"So?" Satoru's voice snaps Suguru back to reality, back to the milky thighs that are so painfully bare right in front of him, he has half a mind to tear his eyes away and meet Satoru's amused ones instead. "Answer me, Suguru."
And Suguru would. In fact, he almost lets the words tumble right off his tongue in that very moment. Unfortunately, he's not quick enough with it, not when Satoru makes quick work of tugging his pajama pants off his legs and kicks them off the bed entirely. Suguru forgets to breathe as he watches Satoru stretch his unbelievably long legs over the edge of the bed, lean back a little on his arms and just stay like that for a few seconds. He’s not doing anything, just making a pretty picture, letting Suguru take it all in before he goes completely insane with want.
Then he scoots back a little, pushes his body back against the headboard, bends his knees and folds his legs for support as he arches his back intentionally, gets comfortable in his new position. He's absolutely bare, clad in nothing but black lace and the pale moonlight.
This might be heaven.
Or hell.
Suguru hasn't decided yet.
"Are you going to answer me or just drool there like a pathetic dog?"
Despite the harshness of the words, Satoru's tone is mild, almost careful, as if he's testing the waters of how far he can push Suguru before he snaps.
And fuck, with the way Suguru's cock throbs with every word, he can push him right off the fucking cliff is he needs to.
He needs to get closer; he needs to see Satoru right in front of him, spread open and willing. So, he crawls the short distance before he’s right at the edge of his bed, looking up with pleading eyes as if he’s a dog begging for some attention.
But seeing Satoru like this, so close and touchable, it gets a little much for Suguru. He has to regain his composure, get himself situated before his sanity leaves him completely. So, he ducks his head, tries to focus on the burgundy carpet beneath his knees, takes in a breath-
“Suguru,” Satoru won’t allow him any grace, though, of course he wouldn’t. “Look at me.”
And Suguru does; obeys immediately as if he has no other choice but to follow Satoru’s every command. And he should have known better, by now, he really should assume the absolute fucking worst when it comes to Satoru and the way he chooses to test Suguru’s limits.
But Suguru can’t help himself, his eyes are instantly glued to the milky chest that he knows would look so so fucking pretty with his marks all over it. They trail down, settling on Satoru’s thighs that spread open beautifully, exposing the most intimate parts of him, covered in nothing but black lace that seems to strain just a little against his own hardness that he’s been ignoring.
Suguru chokes on his own spit.
He just stares, mouth almost watering at the sight. And it should be embarrassing how close he is to cumming just from a small peak of Satoru’s lace panties stretched over his hard cock. Without registering the action, Suguru grips himself harder, breath coming out in sharp huffs as he tries to concentrate on anything other than Satoru’s fingers now tugging at the delicate lace around his hips. He doesn’t do anything, though, just holds the base of his cock in order to get some sort of relief.
“Come on, touch yourself.” Satoru’s voice snaps him out of his lace-pantie induced coma. “I didn’t tell you to stop, now did I?”
Suguru barely finds the strength to shake his head and gives his cock an experimental tug, not too keen on the idea of disappoint Satoru and possibly being denied seeing more of what he has in store for him.
“Go on then,” Satoru hums and presses his own hand against the lace-covered bulge. “Nice and slow. Show me how good you can be.”
And Suguru obeys.
He’s almost panting now, barely able to take in short, shallow huffs as he slowly bucks up into his fist. It’s not enough, though. And even though touching himself while kneeling at Satoru’s feet is most definitely one of his deepest fantasies, he just can’t feel completely satisfied when the man that he craves more than anything is right there. But he doesn’t dare to do more, instead, keeps his movement careful, fluid, barely noticeable, not wanting to rush the moment or maybe a little afraid of Satoru changing his mind completely. Maybe if he didn’t notice how desperate Suguru was for him, he’d continue indulging him a little more.
But Satoru notices, of course he does.
Suguru watches as his shiny lips pull into a mocking smirk and somehow that makes everything worse for him, especially when Satoru decided to tease him even more and lets out a low, borderline strained moan. Suguru barely contains a groan as he forgets his previous restrictions, completely succumbing to his own desires as he pulls himself off the floor and on the edge of the bed, continuing to slowly crawl towards Satoru’s open legs.
And it should be embarrassing, it should be absolutely mortifying in how pathetically Suguru whines as soon as he gets close enough and is instantly met with Satoru’s raised foot. Suguru looks up instantly with wide eyes as soon as it makes contact with his chest, pushing him away just slightly, but mostly just keeping him in place on the edge of the bed.
“Nuh-uh,” Satoru hums and leans back a little, his legs spreading apart even more. “I didn’t say you could touch.”
Suguru hears himself whine again, his skin heating up almost as fast as the blood in his veins the longer he’s being denied touching Satoru. Instead, he wraps his fingers around Saoru’s ankle and keeps his foot in place, the action slightly grounding as they lock eyes again.
But Suguru still needs to touch him more. He needs to.
Luckily for him, he wasn’t above begging.
“Please,” he pleads, eyes wide as he grips Satoru’s ankle harder, not pushing it away, he wouldn’t dare, just keeping it against his chest, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers. “Please, Satoru, I can’t.” he takes in a shallow breath, “I need it.”
“But you were doing so good, Suguru. Are you really that desperate to get off?” Satoru tilts his head again, as if he’s addressing a little child who doesn’t know better. “What are you, a dog?”
Suguru smiles a little and looks up, meeting his gaze head on.
“Won’t you throw me a bone, then, Toru?”
Satoru just chuckles a little as he shakes his head, a little endeared with how well they work together. But he has so much more in store for them tonight, no need to rush and get it all spoiled.
“We’ll get there,” he says and bites his lip as his eyes rake all over Suguru’s body. “But won’t you let me have my fun first?”
Suguru just nods.
He can do that.
He can have fun.
Satoru just smiles and pulls his foot away, bending his legs even more as he sits up a little more.
"Good,” Satoru licks his lips and looks at him with a stern look in his eyes. “I want you to stay right here, can you do that for me baby?”
Baby. Suguru swears his cock twitches as he nods, as if Satoru was able to control him like a goddamn puppet with nothing but a look and a few words.
Satoru eyes him with barely contained intensity now, as if he’s holding on to a piece of information he’s about to let Suguru in on. He still has that facade on him, though, like he's not really interested in how desperate Suguru is, in how desperate he, himself, is.
"I want you to stay right here. Keep your eyes on me at all times, if I see you look away I will stop and you can take care of that pathetic cock of yours yourself, do you understand me?"
"Yes," Suguru rasps out, his voice barely resembling a human and not unlike the pathetic whine of a dog Satoru compared him to earlier.
"You can touch yourself if you need to, but don't cum. Not unless I say so, do you understand me, Suguru?”
“I understand.”
"Good," Satoru smiles, all sweet and innocent, as if he's dripping with candy syrup and Suguru just wants to lick him all up.
Instead, he watches as he situates himself in a comfortable position again, pulls his leg away and bends his knees as he scoots down the bed just a little. Whatever he's got planned, whatever torture he's about ot put him through, Suguru knows that he's a changed man. One could only imagine what it feels like to see Satoru Gojo naked and so close to being touched, but seeing Satoru Gojo in nothing but a pair of black lace panties, legs spread and bent at the knee as he leans back and tugs them to the side -
Suguru is pretty sure this is what Catharsis feels like.
And he might be a dog. With the way that he whines at the sight of Satoru's pink hole being exposed to him just slightly, with the way he feels an unbearable need to fucking pounce on him and grip his thigs, spread them impossibly apart and just fucking bite. Mark him all over, press his fingers into the pale, unblemished skin, mark and bruise him all over till he's a trembling mess of tears and moans beneath his fingers.
But Satoru told him to stay, so that's what he does.
It’s maddening. The way that Satoru looks at him, as if he’s nothing but a pathetic little puppy at the bottom of his feet just begging for attention. And he just might, Suguru might just roll over and do a fucking trick or two just to get a taste of Satoru. Yet he’s not allowed to do anything, so he just watches as Satoru pushes two of his long fingers into his own mouth, sucking and moaning around them lewdly.
Finally, after a couple of agonizingly slow seconds, Satoru pulls his fingers out, the digits dripping with saliva as he drags them down his chest, stomach, and abdomen, right towards his pink hole. Suguru feels his mind run dry once one of Satoru’s fingers circled his rim.
“Tell me Suguru,” Satoru hums, his eyes already glazing over as he works the pad of his finger over the puckered hole. “Is this what you want?”
“Fuck,” Suguru gasps out and almost drools, subconsciously leaning forward to get a better look but not daring to get too close, afraid of disobeying. “More than anything.”
“Too bad,” Satoru hums with a mean look in his eyes and pushes the finger in. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
And Suguru can’t do anything. He can’t do anything but grip his leaking cock and give it a few strokes just to keep himself form passing out. He finds himself almost panting, skin vibrating with need as he watches Satoru finger himself open, his lewd moans and shallow gasps the only sound ringing in his ears. And he’s furious, absolutely fucking mad with need and jealousy.
And it should be ridiculous, absolutely fucking insane how jealous he is of Satoru’s own fingers. Because that should be him instead. That should be his fingers stretching Satoru open for him, not anyone else. He finds that he finds the thought maddening, someone else touching Satoru like this, pulling out these sweet little noises out of him – it doesn’t even matter that it’s Satoru himself. It doesn’t fucking matter because it’s not him.
And it makes him almost growl the longer he thinks about it. Heat travels up his chest and down his groin the longer he looks, two of Satoru’s fingers plunging in and out at a rapid pace now, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he clenches around them, eyes closed and body tense with pleasure.
And then he looks back at Suguru, eyes glazed over. Suguru doesn’t know what he sees, but it’s definitely something he’s pleased with if his devious little smile is anything to go by. Satoru continues fingering himself, his eyes set on Suguru's, pretty lips parted as he lets out little gasps that indicate how fucking good he's making himself feel. And Suguru can't help it anymore, his hand squeezing hard at the base of his cock again just to give himself some relief. He doesn't dare to set a pace, too aware of every fiber in his body being ablaze, not willing to risk it and accidentally cum against Satoru's orders. Not when the look in his eyes holds a promise of a reward.
Fuck, Suguru might be a goddamn dog after all.
"Feels so good, Suguru," Satoru whines and adds another finger, not pushing it in just yet; just pressing the pad of it against the stretched skin. He bites his lip and moans, briefly going cross-eyed from the sensation. "Fuck, I feel so full."
"Yeah?" Suguru squeezes his cock again and leans a little more in, the desperate tone of Satoru's voice making him feel like he's regaining some sense of control, like he’s the one who can dictate the situation right now.
And that feeling alone makes his skin burn all over. He likes the way it makes him feel, like he's a puppy turned a bloodhound.
"You look so good like that, sweetheart," Suguru hums and allows himself to lean a little more in, still not touching, but enough to make Satoru hyperaware of how close he is. “But aren’t you being a little unfair?”
“Unfair?” Satoru mouths, a little unfocused and confused, his fingers now working himself open in a rapid rhythm, punching out moans and making Suguru drool with want.
Yet he swallows that desperation down for the moment, just until he gets what he wants. What he knows they both want.
“Mhm,” he hums and narrows his eyes at Satoru’s glazed-over ones. “Do you think it’s fair that you’re the only one getting to feel good right now?”
Satoru just hums, eyes briefly flashing back to Suguru as he rolls the words around in his head.
"Maybe you’re right," Satoru takes in a deep breath and stills his fingers, chest heaving a little as he forces himself to slow down. “Maybe I am being unfair.”
Suguru can't do anything but stare as Satoru retracts his fingers and pushes himself up a little, mouth watering at the sight and the proximity that Satoru allows. It feels like he died and reached heaven, honestly, if it weren't for his profusely leaking cock begging for attention, Suguru wouldnt even know that's he's alive anymore.
Satoru just looks at him as he buries his fingers in Suguru's black locks, touching him for the very first time since they started this.
And it feels like that touch shatters something between them, buries the leftover uncertainty that still lingered in the back of their minds. Suguru leans into the touch and Satoru strengthens his grip, tugging his head back to make their eyes lock.
"What do you want, Suguru?" he licks his lips as he asks, the faint flush on his cheeks making him look almost innocent despite their situation. "Tell me what you need, Suguru."
"Fuck, Satoru," Suguru whines and leans down on the mattress. Satoru lets him, yet keeps his fingers buried in the locks as Suguru moves towards what he craves most right now. He nuzzles the inside of Satoru’s thigh, almost sighing in relief when Satoru allows him to nose at the thin skin there. "Let me eat you out."
Satoru takes in a sharp breath and Suguru smiles against his skin as he dares to dart out his tongue and lick at it, making Satoru shudder a bit. He presses his lips on a particularly sensitive spot and looks up again, the need in his eyes evident.
"Fuck, okay," Satoru finally sighs and lifts his hips up a bit, getting into position that would make them both comfortable. "You can do that. Make me feel good, Suguru."
And receiving this confirmation, Suguru wastes no time. He lets go of Satoru's thighs and grips the daunting elastic of the lacy panties, briefly savoring the feeling of the fabric beneath his fingers. Before he can tug them off, though, Satoru stops him with a disapproving hum. Suguru falters and looks up, unsure if he's done something wrong.
"Keep them on," Satoru says in a light tone and Suguru feels his cock twitch again. "Since you seem to like them so much."
Suguru just whines again, dumbly, still trying to process the information. Just when he thinks Satoru cannot possibly do anything to make the situation even hotter, there he goes and makes Suguru burst at the seams with nothing but a few words. Fuck, he's not sure he's surviving this.
But as long as he's here, he gets to work.
So he just tugs the lace fabric to the side and leans in, not willing to tease as his tongue swipes across Satoru's hole eagerly. They both moan at the contact and Suguru feels the hand in his hair tighten immediately, pushing his face closer and guiding his movements.
Seems like Satoru enjoys the control, enjoys using Suguru for his pleasure in ways that he knows will make him feel good. And it's perfect since Suguru enjoys being used, enjoys it when it's Satoru that's doing it. Satoru’s control over him is clear, but it’s also something Suguru craves.
Suguru’s tongue works in slow, deliberate circles, his hand on Satoru’s thigh pushing him back just a little, keeping him steady, fingers digging into the flesh, subconsciously hoping to leave deep purple marks that would serve as a testament to their time together. His other hand holds the lace in place, tugged to the side and out of his way as he plunges his tongue in deep. His body moves fluidly, instinctively, following Satoru’s unspoken cues, making sure to focus on every detail. The slickness of Satoru’s skin, the way his body shivers in response, and the sounds he makes—they all push Suguru closer to the edge.
"Fuck, Suguru," Satory whines and pushes his face even closer, his fingers tugging at the roots of his hair almost painfully. “Just like that, baby.”
He shifts again, throwing one of Satoru's thighs over his shoulder to adjust, folding him just a bit more. With one of his hands now free, he brings it into play, pressing a finger gently over Satoru's already slightly loosened hole.
"Am I doing good, baby?" Suguru hums as he pulls away a bit, pushes his finger in slowly and looks up to see Satoru going cross-eyed for just a second. "Am I making you feel good?"
Satoru moans, his head tilting back, his breath uneven as his hips try to match Suguru’s slow rhythm. "Yeah," Satoru gasps, voice strained. "So fucking good."
Suguru isn't ashamed to admit that he moans at the praise; just knowing that he's the one making Satoru feel like that, knowing that it's his tongue and fingers making his thighs shake like that makes him feel like he could cum any second, no actual stimulation needed. But he has to hold back, has to keep it in until Satoru tells him what to do next.
"Are you going to cum, 'Toru?" Suguru hums and licks up the spit that dribbles down Satoru's hole, making the other man choke on his own moan. "Are you going to make a mess of your pretty panties? Just from a few touches?"
And it should be comical, how quickly their dynamic changes. All Suguru needs is a little taste of control, a glimpse of Satoru losing himself in pleasure and he's ready to pounce, use everything in his power to reduce Satoru to nothing but a blabbering, moaning mess beneath his fingers.
And it looks like he’s doing just that as Satoru fails to answer right away, giving Suguru nothing but a hazy look and an uncoordinated nod as he rides his finger harder, keeping the grip on his hair tight as he uses Suguru for all he's worth.
"Yeah, just like that," Suguru moans into his skin and carefully pushes a second finger in alongside his tongue. "Cum for me, princess."
And that seems to do it.
As soon as their eyes lock again, Satoru's entire body tenses up, his hole clenching around Suguru's fingers incredibly tight, a lewd moan that resembles Suguru's name leaving his lips as he cums and soils his lace underwear, the thin fabric soaking up his release and giving Suguru new material to jack off to.
Satoru rides his orgasm without faltering, his grip in Suguru's hair not loosening as he continues to guide him till he’s riddled with oversensitivity. Once he's spent, he carefully retracts his fingers and gently pets his abused scalp. Suguru gives his hole one last lick as he retracts his fingers and fixes the panties back in place, deliberately snapping the band against Satoru's skin, making him let out a choked off gasp.
"You did so good, baby," Suguru whispers and kisses the inside of his thigh again, moving Satoru's legs to rest against the mattress as he tries to regain his breath. "Did so well for me, such a sweet boy."
Satoru doesn’t say anything at first, takes a couple of moments to regain his breath, chest rising up and down as his body goes down from the high of Suguru. This moment of peace doesn’t last long, though. Not when Satoru’s already refocused eyes land on his and he smirks a bit, making Suguru unsure of the control he had just moments ago.
Satoru just pushes himself up and looks at Suguru with an intense look in his eyes.
“Lie down on your back, hands above your head,” Satoru instructs, voice leveled and stern.
Suguru can’t find it in himself to do anything else but follow his command, instantly lying on the bed and gripping the headboard above him. He scoots up a bit, his back flush against the headboard for balance since he still has no idea what’s going on.
Satoru doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just nods in approval and smiles. Suguru watches him get off the bed and he panics for a second. What if Satoru will leave him here? Hard and desperate and leaking all over himself? What if he’s done and doesn’t really care about how fucking pathetic Suguru’s state is?
But before he can voice any of his concerns, Satoru turns to him and takes the soiled black lace panties off, slides them right off his legs and bunches them up in his hand, eyes sparkling with mirth.
But instead of throwing them to the side, Satoru gets on the bed again, the same damn panties in hand. He straddles Suguru’s form, his thigh brushing up against Suguru’s painfully hard dick that’s been deprived for way too long now. He can’t hold back a moan at the contact and that makes Satoru smile even wider, looking like Suguru just confirmed something for him.
“You’ve been awfully mouthy, haven’t you?” Satoru hums and buries his fingers in his hair again, tugging harshly and leaning down to glare at him.
“Open up, pretty boy.”
And fuck, Suguru does just that. No questions asked, no thoughts interpreting the situation at hand, Suguru just follows orders like a good boy.
And it makes it all worth it, the way Satoru smiles down on him, the way his eyes shine as he’s pleased with how obedient Suguru is. And it would be a sweet moment between the two, it really wold, but instead of letting it linger, Satoru shoves the lace fabric of his underwear in Suguru's mouth, promptly gagging him up and petting his cheek once his eyes widen at the realization.
And it’s so fucking gross, borderline disgusting to think that anyone would enjoy getting soiled panties stuffed-
Suguru moans.
Loud and unashamed.
He moans and bites down, humming to himself as he savors the taste of Satoru in his mouth.
And yeah, maybe he should be ashamed of himself. Maybe he is a disgusting gross pervert that jacks off to the thoughts of his best friend, but hey, look where that got him.
So no, he doesn’t feel the slightest hint of regret or shame at his actions, not when Satoru looks at him like that. All fucked out and so painfully affected by the mere sight Suguru makes that the entire world behind their door doesn’t even make sense anymore.
Nothing really matters and Suguru can’t be bothered to feel ashamed about any of it.
“Now,” Satoru hums and brings his body lower, slithering down Suguru’s form like a serpent, right down till he’s nosing against his groin, eyes still locked with his. “Let me make you feel good too, Suguru.”
And fuck, he might just cum from the sight alone.
Yet Suguru just nods, dumbly, and watches as Satoru smiles and leans down, wrapping those pink lips around the tip of his cock without giving Suguru time to adjust.
And Suguru has to look away for a second, he absolutely has to unless he wants that to be the reason of death carved into his goddamn headstone.
Satoru doesn’t appreciate it, though. Not when the heat of his mouth suddenly leaves him.
“Eyes on me, Suguru,” Satoru says and Suguru instantly obeys, bringing his pleading gaze right back to Satoru’s smug looking expression. “I want you to see everything.”
Suguru nods once.
Maybe it wouldn’t make a bad headstone quote, after all.
“Good boy,” Satoru smiles and sinks back down in an instant, taking more than half of Suguru’s cock down his throat in one go.
And if it weren’t for the panties promptly stuffed in his mouth, Suguru would have moaned so loud they would be able to hear him back in Tokyo.
Instead, he tries to gain some sense of control back into his body and takes advantage of the situation. Satoru didn’t say he had to keep his arms up, did he?
So that’s exactly what he does. Suguru lets go of the headboard and buries his slightly trembling fingers in Satoru’s snowy, white locks, making the other man look up in question.
The sight alone almost stops Suguru’s already overworked heart from beating. And it’s unfair; it’s actually terrible how good Satoru looks like this; with Suguru’s large hands tangled in his hair, eyes wide and almost teary, cheeks slightly flushed, and pink, pretty, slightly swollen lips stretched impossibly wide around Suguru’s cock. The image carves out a spot in Suguru’s brain in an instant, burning itself in his memory and making Suguru fall just a little more in love.
He can’t dwell on his feelings, though, not when his cock is about to fall off with how hard he is. So, instead of being sappy, he grips Satoru’s hair tighter and pushes him down even more, his hips snapping up and fucking up into his willing mouth without restraint.
Satoru gags a little and Suguru eases up, but the disapproving look in his teary blue eyes tells Suguru that he doesn’t really want that right now, not in the mood for gentle and sweet; willing Suguru to use him up however he wants. Use him up till he has nothing left to give.
Use him up the way Satoru used him up just moments ago.
And Suguru can’t do anything but oblige. He knows that Satoru wouldn’t allow him this if he didn’t want that, there’s absolutely no one in this world who could force Satoru to do something he doesn’t want, and it makes Suguru’s heart swell a bit. He wants to show his gratitude, show Satoru how fucking much he loves him, how bad he needs him.
And he does just that by pushing him down even more and pulling him up by his hair again, fucking his mouth in harsh thrusts that makes the heat at the pit of his stomach expand so quickly he doesn’t even register how he’s losing control. It all comes crashing down once Satoru moans around him, the tongue in his mouth swirling around Suguru’s cock once his lips are at the tip, promptly swallowing down and making spit drip down his shaft and onto the mattress below.
“Fuck, Satoru-“ he gasps and holds his head in place for a second, grinding the tip of his cock against the back of Satoru’s throat. “Im gonna-“
And he can’t quite finish his sentence, not when Satoru’s tongue swirls around him again and he hollows his cheeks, not when he looks up and slightly nods, tear tracks shining bright against his cheeks as he wills himself to take more of Suguru in, not even thinking about pulling off.
And that does it. Suguru comes right down his throat, Satoru’s name on the tip of his tongue as he keeps him in place, his hips snapping up as he rides the last waves of his orgasm and forces Satoru to take all of it.
After his dick twitches in oversensitivity, he can feel Satoru pull off slowly, and if it weren’t for the already soaked panties in his mouth, Suguru would have hissed from the movement itself. He feels Satoru place a light kiss to the skin of his hip before he moves up his body, long, slender fingers curling around the fabric in his mouth and tugging the underwear out, promptly ungagging a very sated looking Suguru.
Satoru just smiles at him but doesn’t say anything, Suguru isn’t sure he should speak either.
He just watches Satoru look at his ruined underwear with an unreadable look in his eyes, sigh, and throw them to the side before he tries to get up and move away.
And Suguru can’t help it. He panics.
Without thinking, Suguru grabs Satoru’s wrist, pulling him back toward the bed with desperate hands. “Wait,” he breathes out, his voice shaking. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before they run away completely.
“Satoru, please don’t—"
Satoru freezes at the sudden movement, his eyes wide, catching the fear in Suguru’s gaze. Suguru’s heart drops as Satoru’s face remains unreadable, his usual calm exterior in place. He doesn’t look mad or upset, but then again, they did just cross every single friendship boundary known to man without having a proper conversation beforehand. It only deepens Suguru’s anxiety, a hundred questions swirling in his mind.
He fucking ruined it. He ruined their friendship and now Satoru’s never going to talk to him again. And fuck, Suguru can’t live like that. He can’t bear the thought of Satoru, the man that he’s so fucking in love with turning him down and-
“Suguru,” Satoru finally says, his voice calm. “You’re spiraling.”
Suguru doesn’t know how to stop it. His grip on Satoru’s wrist tightens, his chest rising and falling in frantic breaths. “No,” he says, shaking his head vigorously. “No, listen to me—just, don’t leave, okay? Please don’t go.” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s fighting to keep it together, but his vulnerability is right there, exposed in the way his fingers cling to Satoru’s skin.
Satoru blinks at him as he processes the situation at hand, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it’s not mocking. It’s kind. Understanding. And truth be told, Suguru is absolutely mortified. What if they fucked up? What if Satoru came to his senses and is absolutely disgusted with him? What if he never wants to see his stupid face again and-
“I’m not running away,” Satoru reassures and leans down, his eyes softening as he brings his face close to Suguru’s and he places a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “I just need to clean up a bit, you did make me cum all over myself. think you can handle that?”
And oh.
Yeah, he did do that.
Suguru just nods, but his eyes tell a different story entirely. He blinks at Satoru, a small pout on his lips as he’s still not entirely convinced that he should let Satoru go. It doesn’t feel right to him, and the way his fingers tighten even more around Satoru’s wrist is a clear indication of that.
But just as they always were, it seems like they’re in tune. Satoru knows exactly what’s bothering him so he just shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he cups Suguru’s cheek and leans in, their noses brushing against each other.
“Hey,” Satoru hums. “There’s something I’m afraid we forgot to do.” he says quietly, “Maybe this will help.”
And then, before Suguru can respond, Satoru’s lips are on his.
The kiss is slow, gentle, at first. It’s nothing like the frantic, desperate touches from earlier. Suguru’s breath catches, his hand sliding up to rest against Satoru’s neck, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him in just a little closer. The kiss deepens, and Suguru feels like he’s breathing for the first time in his life.
Satoru pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against Suguru’s, their breaths mingling. “See?” he murmurs, a playful tone in his voice. “Nothing to worry about.”
Suguru can’t help but smile softly, his hands still holding Satoru in place against himself.
“I guess you’re right,” he whispers, all the remnants of anxiety slipping away from his core the longer he stares into the blues of Satoru’s eyes.
Satoru chuckles softly, his lips brushing against Suguru’s in another gentle kiss. “Of course I am,” he hums. “Now let me go, will you? Unless you want to cuddle with dried cum all over me.”
Suguru scrunches up his nose and lets him go, albeit a little reluctantly. Satoru just laughs and walks away to the bathroom, leaving Suguru to gather his wits about him.
Suguru stays where he is for a moment, blinking at the ceiling, his thoughts still a little tangled. He’s not sure what exactly he’s supposed to be feeling right now, all he can really do is just breathe.
After a moment like that, Suguru finally decides to stand and assess the situation at hand. His legs feel a little wobbly as he gets up, the faint, lingering buzz still humming through his body. As he moves to the side of the bed, the discarded panties catch his eye. He hums to himself, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he remembers just how insane they made him feel.
Not that it’s gone away, though.
Without trying to justify it, he just reaches down, picks them up without much thought. He rolls the soiled fabric between his fingers, feels the heat rush all over his body just from the mere sight of the stained black lace.
And even if he does happen to stuff them in his own duffle bag before Satoru returns, well, then, pshhh-
no he didn’t.
Suguru grabs his pajama pants, sliding them back on quickly, the fabric soft against his skin as he starts to settle back into bed. His mind is still overwhelmed with thoughts that don’t really seem to make sense right now, but at least the physical part of him is no longer pent up.
Just then, the door creaks open, and Satoru returns, fresh-faced and looking entirely too smug for his own good. He glances over at Suguru before slipping back into bed next to him.
Suguru immediately wraps his arms around him, tugging Satoru’s body against himself, keeping him as close as he’ll let him. And Satoru seems willing to give him everything, wrapping his own arms around Suguru and pushing up against him as he settles in his spot.
They share a moment of silence, nothing but mute communication of everything they’re too afraid to say in the dark. It’s a sweet, tender moment. A moment that they both know they’ll have to address in the morning.
Unfortunately, Satoru decides to open his mouth.
“So,” Satoru hums, his eyes wide and amused as he looks up at Suguru, “how often do you jack off thinking about me?”
Suguru’s eyes widen and his face instantly flushes crimson. “Satoru,” he hisses through clenched teeth, the heat in his cheeks matching his frustration. “Go to sleep.”
“Come ooon, tell me,” Satoru prods, a proud, shit-eating grin on his face. “Never took you for such a freak, you know. But it is kind of hot, I guess.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Suguru groans, exasperated and buries his face in Satoru’s neck, fighting the urge to just fucking bite down on it. “You’re insufferable.”
“Psh,” Satoru rolls his eyes. “You love me like this.”
Suguru falters for a second because…he might just do. He never really thought about it in such terms, never analyzed why his heart did the things that it did whenever he was around Satoru.
And now, with his hands around his body, bare skin flush against each other, breaths mingling as they lay together, Suguru wonders if this might be love after all.
He might need to think about that a little more in the morning, they might need to talk and figure some things out, but right now, he just wants to enjoy the feeling for what it is.
“Just go to sleep, ‘Toru,” Suguru whispers, his lips brushing the pulse point over Satoru’s neck.
Satoru doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifts closer, draping an arm around Suguru’s waist, pulling him in just a little more against himself. The movement is effortless, like they’ve always fit together this way. Suguru feels the warmth of Satoru’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and it feels like it’s enough for now.
“Fine,” Satoru sighs, like he’s giving in, but there’s still a sly smile playing on his lips. “But just so you know, I expect full details tomorrow. Like, how many times, how often, do you use toys? Oh my god, do you have pictures you look at?!”
Suguru just shakes his head, but the smile tugging at his lips is soft. He can’t help it, especially not with Satoru this close, this warm and so entirely his
“Shut up, you idiot. We can talk about that in the morning.”
Satoru chuckles softly, his fingers threading through Suguru’s hair, gentle and soothing.
They both fall quiet, the soft sound of their breathing filling the room as they curl closer together. Satoru shifts just a little more, his body fully pressed against Suguru’s, and Suguru finds himself naturally tucking into Satoru’s side.
“Goodnight, Suguru,” Satoru murmurs, voice low and sleepy, but with that same warmth in it that makes Suguru’s heart feel full.
“Night baby,” Suguru replies and lets himself relax into the warmth of Satoru’s embrace.
A few moments pass, Suguru almost slips into deep sleep before Satoru’s confused voice brings him back.
“Hey Suguru?”
“Hm?”
“Did you see where I put my underwear?”