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Usually, when something would go horribly wrong on a mission, it was Satoru’s fault. Like, without a doubt, no room for dispute, 100%, Satoru’s fault. He’d never admit it, of course, whining and arguing himself out of any real responsibility, but it was pretty evident to everyone who read the mission report that it was him. There wasn’t any other sorcerer who could punch a hole through the side of an abandoned shopping complex, but Satoru would try and pin the blame on anything else anyway.
This time, though, like, maybe, possibly, it was kinda… both of their fault. 60 Satoru and 40 Suguru. Or 70/30. Really, it wasn’t Suguru’s fault at all, but let it never be said that he couldn’t be gracious and mature when the situation called for it. Or Satoru could just be really annoying, and anything he could do to get him to shut up was worth it.
It had been a routine mission—some first grade curse that either one of them could have handled alone, but killing was more fun with friends, and he would’ve been bored inside anyway, so he came along. As expected with the level of overkill that came with two special grades, the stupid thing had gone down in record time, and when Satoru suggested they stick around the area for a bit, give the assistant manager a break and check out the ice cream shop nearby, he’d agreed. Summer was hard on them, both in terms of workload and the weather, so why not?
Which had been his second mistake, as it often is. Saying yes to Satoru. His first had been coming along at all, and his third had been letting his guard down. But, like, why wouldn’t he? The curse was dead, and they were quite literally the two strongest sorcerers in the country. If anybody should have their guard down, it’d be them. So if he had loosened up, if Satoru had stopped keeping infinity running 24/7, then that was totally reasonable.
“But I don’t put down infinity, you idiot. That’s why this is entirely your fault. I can never get it to work right when I’m around you.”
“We’re both tied up in a basement right now, so, like, pot and kettle. Besides, how is it my fault if you suck at using your cursed technique?”
If a cursed user had been able to sneak up on them, use whatever technique they had that had somehow been perfectly suited to incapacitate the two of them, and Satoru hadn’t had infinity up—not because of Suguru—then it stands to reason that it’d still be Satoru’s fault? Like, Suguru would gracefully take twenty percent of the blame, ‘cuz he was nice like that, but it didn’t really matter in the end. They were both here, hands tied behind their backs with rope covered in enough talismans to take down the king of curses, in a basement. It was hot, suffocating almost, no windows for airflow or air conditioning to speak of.
Whoever had thrown them down there had been pretty careless about it too, Suguru stacked on top of Satoru haphazardly. It would’ve been pretty awkward if they weren’t already touchy in regular circumstances. It’s why neither of them had made an attempt to move, even though the climate was miserable, preserving energy in an unfamiliar situation more important. He wasn’t really feeling 100% either, sort of sluggish, like he’d been popped over the head.
“Well if I suck so bad, what’s your plan for getting us out of this?” Satoru pouted. Suguru couldn’t really see his face, from where he was positioned over him, chin over Satoru’s shoulder, but he could hear it.
A plan. Yeah, uh, Suguru was working on it. He would like, get untied first, probably—he was wracking his brain for a solution, but if he was a little distracted, positioned over Satoru like that, then he was honestly trying his best to work around it.
Easier said than done, though, ‘cuz like, his entire body was splayed over Satoru, and anybody would be distracted if their dreams were literally coming true? God, this had been the subject of countless wet dreams for Suguru, and now it was just happening and he couldn’t be normal about it.
“It’s uh, pretty hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Oh my god you are useless.” Satoru wiggled a little, moving his tied arms somewhere more centered behind his back. “I think there’s a rock under me or something. Maybe I can get it to cut these ropes or fuck up one of the talismans. I bet if I get rid of enough I can blast through these things.” It didn’t seem like a bad idea, and Suguru wasn’t really pulling his weight in the ideas department, so he laid still above Satoru and let him give it a try.
And then—God help him, Satoru began to move. The force of him struggling to grind his ropes against whatever rock he thought was beneath him had their bodies pressing together, a slow back-and-forth that had Suguru reeling. And Satoru was kinda arched up too, trying to make room underneath himself to move.
It was a slow grind, not really enough to raise any alarms, but. Maybe Suguru’s plans for the afternoon before he tagged along on that stupid fucking mission had been jerking off. Maybe multiple times. Which was normal. And maybe he had a stupid fucking crush on his best friend. Which was also normal, if not a little bit genuinely agonizing. So, like, if his body reacted… or something, then that was also normal.
What did he do to deserve this, though? Yeah it was a natural physical response, but that didn’t make it not mortifying. His head was throbbing, couldn’t tell if it was the anxiety or something else, and Suguru was grateful his face wasn’t visible to Satoru, burning red as it was.
Satoru just kept fuckin’ going too, completely oblivious to his best friend praying for death on top of him. Suguru could feel that heat building in his core, and he hoped that his baggy pants meant that Satoru wouldn’t be able to feel the tent rising in them. He tried to raise his hips, maybe move out of the way, but he felt like his strength had been drained. Something wasn’t right, he could barely move.
But it didn’t even matter, because as Suguru pulled his hips back, Satoru ground down at just the right angle, and—just fucking kill him, Satoru stopped moving immediately. No, no, maybe he’d broken the rope and they were finally gonna get out of here and Suguru could go take a cold shower and maybe drown himself.
“Suguru…”
“...What’s up?”
“Are you hard right now?”
He jolted unsuspiciously. “Um.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Okay, that’s not fair. You keep moving and—”
“Get off of me.”
Being completely honest, Suguru wanted to get up too. Get up and leave the room, and never talk to Satoru again. He’d probably never even be able to look him in the eye at this point. But his body was weighed down, the small movements he had made in an effort to extricate himself from Satoru basically all he could manage. “I can’t. Seriously. It’s these talismans or something, I can barely move.”
“You can barely move but you can push your dick into me?”
“I’m not doing anything! You’re the one pushing into me, I’m actually being really considerate trying to get away from you.”
“That’s victim blaming!”
He hadn’t even done anything to Satoru yet, but whatever. This was kind of spiraling out of control. It wouldn’t help either of them to lay there and argue. The room was really hot and maybe his head was about to explode from pain, not arousal. Suguru took a deep breath and tried to center himself, ignoring the glaring issue that had sparked the argument.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Let’s just—uh, okay, I’ll try to roll over off of you? Just stay still.”
Satoru grumbled but complied, muttering something about how Suguru was useless and gross and like genuinely whatever because the thoughts going through Suguru’s head were a thousand times worse than anything Satoru could’ve come up with. He was chest to chest with Satoru, trying his best not to push his dick into Satoru any more than he apparently already had. Gathering the strength in his weakened legs, he tried to push himself to the side, using Satoru as leverage. He made a few attempts, but just couldn’t find the power.
All the while, Satoru laid there, uncharacteristically quiet as Suguru made his futile effort. Suguru was breathing heavily now, more drained than he had realized and his erection had died down slightly with the effort. So he gave up, closing what little space remained between them as he laid back down on Satoru’s body.
As he did so, though, Satoru let out a little “ngh.”
“Satoru?” He still couldn’t see Satoru’s face, figure out what that noise meant without asking.
“Stop moving. Please.”
That didn’t sound good. “Are you okay? Hold on.” They’d been stuck like this so long, and Suguru hadn’t considered that Satoru might’ve been even more uncomfortable than he was. He couldn’t get up, but maybe he could alleviate whatever discomfort there was. His erection had waned, sure, but it still brushed against Satoru’s crotch as he tried to back up.
“Eurghhh fuck,” Satoru shuddered. “I told you not to move—”
“—Oh, shit, sorry. Let me—” He quickly tried moving back to where he was and Satoru whined.
“Satoru?”
“Hnngh, ugh, I keep telling you not to do things and you keep fucking doing them, idiot, moron…” Now Satoru was the one shifting, arching his back and using whatever space he could find underneath Suguru to shimmy back and forth. “You’re so selfish, too, asshole, you think you’re the only one who’s hard? Fuck.”
And Suguru’s brain kinda, like, short circuited, at that? ‘Cuz he’d never thought of Satoru feeling any kind of similar way towards him, always something unattainable. Suguru was okay with that, just happy to have a best friend he was so in sync with. A best friend he’d jerk off thinking about like, holding hands with, but a best friend nonetheless. He’d accepted that, let it fade into his perception of the world. Like a, yeah, he’s in love with his best friend, but also, the sky is blue and dirt is brown kinda thing.
So when Satoru’s under him, squirming, can feel the heat of his face next to his, and starts talking about being hard, it’s difficult to process. He’d aligned the facts in his heat-addled mind and it still wasn’t really computing, and Suguru liked to understand things, and therefore he had a lot of good questions, like, in general, and one of them was, “Uh, what?”
“Dude, something is seriously wrong with you today. You keep rubbing up against my clit by accident and it’s driving me insane. Like you can’t decide if you’re gonna grind against me or not.”
His erection was back in full force. The situation almost didn’t seem real, but “Do you… want me to grind against you…?”
“I want you to make up your mind! Stop torturing me!” and then Satoru snickered. “Who sucks now, huh, can’t even get yourself off.”
It’s hard to find leverage with his hands tied behind his back, let alone all the other handicaps he was working with, but fuck if he was going to let Satoru tease him like that when they were in the exact same situation now. He rolled his hips forward, really focusing on the sensation, and he can feel his cock brush up against Satoru’s through the layers of fabric. He whines again underneath him and Suguru drinks up the delicious sound like a man dying of thirst. And he is, dying of thirst, that is.
He rolled slowly, trying to find a rhythm, light, consistent pressure. Not quite enough for Satoru, though, and he arched his back, aching for more. “Fuck, Suguru…”
The sensation was a little dulled, but Suguru’s nerves were so keyed up, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t maintain the slow pace for long, and Satoru was clearly getting impatient, so he bore down, pressed his chest into Satoru and picked up speed and pressure. He groaned under his breath, could hear Satoru panting faintly in his ear and even through the fabric, he could feel the small bump of Satoru’s clit moving back and forth against him.
Precum leaked out of his cock, stickying his boxers, which was definitely going to suck later, but right now he was losing the sensation, the precum overlaying any texture, made him press down harder, wanted to press as much of himself into Satoru until they stuck together.
A particularly hard thrust, the head of his cock catching under Satoru’s clit and pushing it up had Satoru keening, high pitched wail in his ear, and Satoru was bucking his hips, involuntary movements just trying to find that perfect angle.
“Come on, Suguru. Fuck, come on, come on, right there.” Satoru begged, legs kicking at the floor from where Suguru’s weight kept him held down.
Satoru was so close, could almost feel the heat of his cunt against his cock, just a few milimeters removed from being able to shove himself into Satoru, feel that tight, wet heat around him and fuck—his pace stuttered. He wanted that so bad, the thought of it had his stomach twisting, arousal curling there like molten lava, but he didn’t want to cum yet.
He changed position as best as he could manage, trying to hit that sweet spot under Satoru’s dick that had him seeing stars. And it worked, Satoru jolting underneath him, hips rocketing up to meet Suguru’s thrusts, his length pressing against Satoru’s folds through his clothes, bullying up and down on his clit.
His movements were growing clumsy, though, erratic, pressure coiling in him, his peak nearing. “Satoru, Satoru, I’m close.”
“Mmh, yeah, me too,” Satoru could barely talk, words punched out through breathy moans. “Harder, Suguru, come on. Y’wanna put it in, right? Wanna get your cock in me and mess me up?”
“Fuck, Satoru.” There wasn’t anything he could think of that he wanted more.
“I want it too, can feel you through your stupid pants, make me cum already Suguruuu,” Satoru whined. “I’ll let you when we get out of here, just hurry up, come on, come on—”
God, Suguru wanted to kiss him so bad. Wanted all of that, and more. Wanted to get out of that fucking room, get his arms free and hold Satoru down, feel his cunt around him. It spurred him on, need heavy in his gut as he focused his thrusts, in rhythm with Satoru’s desperate hip movements and that tension that had been building and building in him reached its peak, lightning shooting down his spine, his thrusts stuttering as he came. He didn’t stop though, frantic pace slowing into slow, rough drags against Satoru, cum still shooting out of him and coating his underwear. He moaned low and he knew Satoru could feel it, was getting close too, airy whimpers in his ear.
He ground down into Satoru one more time, and could feel the boy beneath him seize up, shaking and groaning under his breath. Suguru kept moving, aborted little thrusts as they both came down from orgasm.
“Holy shit,” He panted out. “Fuck.”
“Yeah…” Satoru was still absentmindedly rolling his hips, riding out the last shocks of pleasure against him.
The haze that had come over him was starting to dissipate, the cum in his pants cooling and making itself very known, the tacky and uncomfortable texture of it impossible to ignore. He’d sweat through his uniform, dark stains under his armpits. Honestly what just happened. Like, okay, he and Satoru had just came all over each other. Awesome. They’re still tied up in this basement, but Suguru couldn’t really be disappointed about that considering what it had led to. But maybe Satoru had got swept up in it? Like, Suguru had started doing his own thing and Satoru’s literally trapped beneath him, thats probably not cool, right? He’d said all that—really hot—stuff about letting Suguru fuck him, but maybe that was like. Motivational. Like, cum faster Suguru and get the hell off of me. Fuck, Satoru would kill him. Or even worse, hate him.
“Satoru, I, uh,” He started. But Satoru’s hands came to his shoulders before he could finish, and pushed him off. Dazed, he laid there as Satoru stretched out his limbs and grimaced down at the dark spot on his pants.
“Dude, it looks like I pissed myself. Or, like, you pissed me, I guess?” He rolled Suguru over and started ripping at the ropes around his arms.
“You’re free?”
“Oh, yeah. Heh, all that moving around you did got my ropes free. You’re good for something after all.” He didn’t have the energy to argue, all of it had been drained out of him with his cum.
“Oh, shit, you have like a huge bump on the back of your head Suguru.” Satoru touched his head gingerly, and his fingers came away with blood. “I told you this was all your fault. Infinity’s all weird around you. Wouldn’t have a head injury right now otherwise.”
Suguru groaned, stretching out his newly freed limbs. He should’ve gotten up, but he just wanted to lay down, despite how uncomfortable he was in multiple aspects. The head injury explained a lot. When he thought on it, he couldn’t recall anything about how he and Satoru had ended up in this room. “How is that my fault? Why’s infinity all weird around me?”
Satoru pouted. “You must actually have a concussion if you’re acting this dumb. You’re really gonna make me say it? Infinity’s for keeping me safe. If I can’t use it around you…Ugh.”
Hm. Yeah, Suguru’s head was killing him, adrenaline worn off. But that was… It didn’t seem like Satoru minded all that much, and now it made sense why. Black spots danced across his vision, and he giggled deliriously. “Haha.” Satoru was cute. A dopey grin spread across his face.
“You are so annoying. Whatever! Let’s get out of here.” Satoru gathered him up, slinging one useless arm over his shoulder, and did the hand sign to teleport them out. “You owe me.” The curse user who had kidnapped them would be pretty confused about it, Suguru thought. Space was already warping around them, taking them back to Jujutsu high.
So, like, yeah, from a certain point of view, maybe it was a little bit his fault they’d ended up like that. But “we dry humped each other until we got free and then confessed our feelings” wasn’t going to end up in the mission report, so it didn’t matter. Not that he’d be writing a mission report later, though. Satoru had a promise to keep up.