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Utahime stares at herself before the full length mirror and she thinks; ‘I look beautiful’ . Which is becoming a more than rare thought and it is true. Her hair is up in a bun held by two large beaded hairpins. Made from gold with crystal jewels at the top of the accessories. Her make-up is clean just as she requested it to be. Some light powder, a little dab of blush and her lips shine with pink gloss. The one thing that stands out most on her pretty features is the scar. Ever pink and proud. Also how she wants it to be.
Her attire however has her sighing. An expensive red robe with pink cherry blossoms, white cranes. Glittering white, blue and gold specks strewn all over the pretty garment. Silky and smooth against her skin. Her collar had been pulled away to wrap just below her shoulders instead of covering them. The gap causes a large dip down her cleavage revealing the valley of her breasts and their curves. Ivory skin blushing a light pink. The material itself is so thin that her perky nipples peek through clearly, distractingly. And to complete it, she has a gold silk ribbon tied around to keep the robe snug on her. So not to give away what is underneath. Or the lack thereof…
She purses her lips and licks them within her mouth, tasting the strawberry of her gloss. That morning was her wedding to Gojo Satoru. No need for other descriptions. The name is enough. And it means much more than ‘Six Eyes’ or the ‘Strongest’. Just Satoru. Sweet, annoying, darling Satoru. Oh and how wonderful it had been when she married him! Utahime could barely sleep a wink, anticipating the beautiful event and her dashing groom. Picturing white and pink, gold and red, flowers, ribbons, glitters. Rituals, dance, songs and music. Her clan had gone all out with their celebration, lauding their daughter for marrying into an esteemed clan in their society of Jujutsu. The Gojo clan celebrated too. Unsurprisingly, a little more chaotic compared to her folks. An obvious similarity to her new husband who was just as frenzied as his family. He seemed drunk on merriment that he pulled her in abruptly for a deep kiss. The vocal disgust from their students, little cousins, nieces and nephews only spurred him to push his tongue between her lips and his hand glided down to grope her shapely behind.
“ Oi! Save it for tonight, you two! ” Satoru’s mother yelled at them.
“ Just a little practice before the big event. ” He explained, tracing her hairline with his lips.
“ As if you’ve never practised before… ” Nobara had muttered from nearby, causing Utahime to flush from embarrassment. Her husband only made it worse by letting all of his students know that they could use the free tips. Every one of them looked like they were about to make her a widow just mere hours after tying the knot.
She smiles into her reflection, remembering what happened. Successfully distracting herself from what will happen in just a few minutes. But her maid of honour (only by title) refuses her any ease.
“I have no idea how you’re keeping yourself together.” Shoko says, puffing smoke from the Chesterfield couch that she lies on. Having an intense staring match with the chandelier atop them, knitted brows and squinting eyes. She is wearing a pale yellow robe herself with pink flowers and a sky blue ribbon to keep it tied around her. Her brown tresses braided to the side and fell over her shoulder. “Just the idea of people watching while I do it.” She shudders.
Utahime sends her a dirty look through the mirror. “Right.”
“I mean just imagine getting pounded in front of people. Worst of all, your new family.”
“Are you done?”
“Well, I guess it's nice that they’ve offered some bit of dignity for you. No one from your clan or Satoru’s parents and elders will be there. Still, his cousins are like mongrels with how excited they get about things. I can already imagine them cheering him on as he bangs you. Who knows? I might start clapping for you if he makes you come.” Shoko gasps suddenly, one of her eyes twitching. “Hime, I’m gonna find out how you look when you come!”
“Shoko, shut up for a moment, will you?!”
Utahime buries her head into her hands and shakes it. Scattering her tension and the uncomfortable feeling that creeps up from her gut. Because it is just that vulgar. Almost barbaric. The clans had odd practices, she knows. Some of them border between cruelty in the most wicked sense and disgusting crassness. But it is expected. Utahime is aware of the three major clans having nonsensical rules and being up in each of their families’ asses about everything. But how the fuck would you defend the tradition of consummating your marriage in front of your whole bloody clan?
It is not like she did not know when she married Satoru. It was in fact one of the first dirty secrets he had revealed about his clan when they had started dating. Naturally, Utahime thought of it as unorthodox but she put it behind her ‘cause who was to say their relationship would last till marriage? But it did. And all the while, Utahime told herself that she cared not for the predicament that she would find herself in on their ‘first’ night (certainly not their first time with each other. But as husband and wife? Yes). When she got up in the morning, don her wedding kimono. When she stood next to Satoru and was hailed as his wife. For the longest time, Utahime put it behind her as she basked in all the savoury moments with him.
But now she worries that perhaps she should have thought a little more about it. The Gojo Clan members, men and women from the ages twenty to God knows what, are about to watch Utahime get fucked by her new husband.
She hears a snicker behind her and glares at Shoko. Her friend places one hand behind her head and dabs her cigarette into the ashtray she left on the foot of the couch.
“I honestly thought you’d dump his ass because of this little practice. Especially when he proposed. Even more when you were gonna tie the knot.”
“Apparently, I thought he was worth going through the embarrassment.”
“But he’s not now?”
“Of course, he is!” Utahime turns and faces Shoko. An upset look on her face for what is implied. “I’m not doubting him at all. It's just…this is not normal.”
“Obviously. This is the most goddamned atrocious tradition I’ve ever heard from a posh-ass family. I’d probably die on the spot if my new family was gonna watch me fuck their son.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m not trying to.” She chuckled.
Utahime exhales and holds herself from breathing. Gritting her teeth as she tries to change the stress into a different feeling. Like strangulation. Maybe she could pass out and skip this whole thing. It wouldn’t be the first time a bride or groom has done so. But Satoru, to her utter chagrin, is mildly excited about this. He has always been possessive of Utahime to the point of annoyance. Yet for some reason, he is fine with this. Probably because he will lay his claim over her in front of everyone. As if the wedding bands on their fingers are not sufficient for that.
“You worried about your performance?” Shoko asks, scattering Utahime’s thoughts like smoke with her stupid questions.
“Sho, I’d really really appreciate you shutting up for a few seconds.”
Utahime hears her smack her lips loudly. “Just so you know that there are worse things than you not performing.”
The newlywed groans in defeat. She walks over and plops herself down on top of Shoko. Her butt on her friend’s lap and upper half leaned onto the body of the couch. Shoko’s hand that holds her smoke stretches over Utahime’s thighs. Her two free fingers rubbing soothing circles on Utahime’s silk-covered limb.
“And what are those worse things?”
“He might not get up.” Utahime snorts at Shoko. “No, really! Imagine how hilarious it’d be if he could not get hard because of the pressure?”
That too, apparently, has happened before to other Gojo couples’ first nights.
“Shoko, the one thing I never have to try to achieve is that fool getting horny for me. Trust me. No amount of pressure will stop him.” Utahime laughs.
“What a bitch”, Shoko mutters and that only makes Utahime chortle louder.
They sit in silence for a moment. Utahime calming down from her laugh and easing into quiet reminiscence. All the times Satoru had touched her tenderly, gripped her hard and kissed her till all her thoughts were muddled into him, him, him. It makes her smile a little. And a little sanguine that he will easily and very quickly divert her thoughts from sheepishness to pleasure.
Shoko puts out her cig then reaches for Utahime. Pulling her down till she was cosily lying on top of her. Utahime’s forehead is secure at the side of her neck and her hands on Shoko’s stomach. Kneading gently to soothe her friend who at that moment did not really need it. The latter in return wounds her arms around her friend’s shoulders, one hand going up to card her fingers through Utahime’s violet tresses. Slow enough not to pull some strands out of her bun.
Shoko’s doting affection further pacifies Utahime enough for her smile to tug into a mischievous one once she remembers something crucial.
“You know we won’t be the only ones doing it.”
“Hmm?”
“Once Satoru and I are done, everyone else can get it on with their chosen partners.”
Shoko’s hands freeze. And Utahime purses her lips to keep her laugh in. She peers upward and nearly loses herself with how aghast the other woman looks.
“They’re family members in there.”, Shoko whispers in disbelief.
Utahime rolls her eyes. “They’re not going to sleep with their family, dummy. They bring their own partners. Girlfriends, boyfriends, situationships. Whoever they're comfortable in fucking for the night.”
Shoko lets out a strangled noise in revulsion. “Its a fucking orgy!”
“It’s. A fucking. Orgy.” Utahime confirms with a shit-eating grin. “Just saying. There will be a certain sorcerer with noticeable bangs that wouldn't mind you climbing him.”
It's Shoko’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please. If the bastard is actually interested in me, he would’ve made a move by now.”
“Maybe he’s shy.”
“Suguru ‘shy’? Give me a break, Hime. The man is as skilled as a dirty womaniser.”
“And maybe he can’t afford to be like that with one of his closest friends because he is just that respectful of her.” Utahime cups the sides of her mouth with her hands as if telling Shoko a secret. “Especially when he is down bad for her.”
Shoko places her hand on Utahime’s head. She sighs and her face sets in a conflicted expression. “Hime, I don’t think–”
A knock on the door interrupts her.
Immediately, Utahime’s blood runs cold. Her hand that was at the side of her mouth drops to Shoko’s chest and fists her robe. She blinks quickly as she feels air clog her ears. Shoko runs her hand down her back.
“Come in.” Her friend answers for her.
A young maid dressed in a simple white kimono opens the door ajar. She steps in, back bowed and hands folded just above her knees. “It's time, Gojo-san.” she says without emotion.
Utahime gulps, sitting up. Allowing the message to wash over and take control of her. This is happening. Right now. No going back. She nods to herself, squeezing eyes shut to keep the shame at bay.
Shoko rises, her arms still wound around the other woman. She presses a kiss to Utahime’s cheek. “You can still make a run for it. I’ll cover you.”
“No”, she laughs weakly, shaking her head. “I want to see him.”
With that conviction, Utahime stands. Feet firm, hands in fists. Shudders down her back and tongue rubbing on the roof of her mouth. Her legs feel like lead as she moves towards the door and beyond it. Shoko joins her at her side. Arms loop together and their steps synchronise. Barefoot against the cold marble floor. Her friend taps on the bridge of her foot with her own. Attempting to dab on a little humour, a little assurance. It makes Utahime smile a bit. She lets go of their looped arms and squeezes Shoko’s hand in hers.
“You’re gonna be fine.” Shoko promises.
Utahime hums.
Led by the maid, they walk in silence for a while. Going through a corridor and down a large white marble spiral staircase.
The Gojo Manor was heavenly for those who have never experienced any form of paradise. It certainly seems like a section of nirvana. From their all-white walls, ceiling-high windows, chandeliers and alabaster pillars. Dark blue velvet carpets, curtains, table clothes. Ivory carvings, jade puppets, life-sized stone statues and oil paintings up on every wall throughout the four storey manor with separate east and west wings. Six suites, thirty bedrooms (including live-in staff), thirty-six bathrooms, nineteen balconies, two libraries, one council room, a sauna, a gym, a game room for the children, one large dining room and kitchen. Several sun rooms to have tea with a smaller crowd, a ballroom, a huge billiard room… And all of this is now Utahime’s home. One she can walk through and govern as she pleases. The clan belongs to Satoru as his mother had taught her. But the manor is Utahime’s and it is up to her on how to rule and manage it. The security and comfortability of their shelter resting on her shoulders.
They turn to the right side and immediately find two other servants standing stiffly before large doors that make way into the ballroom. This is it. The other side of the room is where Satoru waits for Utahime. No. Where a whole audience awaits. Pressing her hands together, bowing her head. Utahime lets out a small groan of anxiety. Feeling her temple getting wet from the pressure, her blood running colder and colder.
“You can still run.” Shoko draws in a low murmur.
Good thing Shoko is with her. Because her bringing Utahime’s chance of escape only reminds her of the face she loves looking at, the one she wants to wake up to in the morning and the last she sees before she sleeps at night. She loves him. Utahime loves Satoru so much, she’s willing to do anything for him and with him.
She exhales, straightening her back. Folded hands at her front and eyes forward.
Anxious? Yes. Worried? Without a doubt. Humiliation beyond any measure? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But she’ll be with him. So it will all be fine.
Utahime nods at the maids before the doors and they bow lowly. The servants turn the large bronze knobs and pull the entryway open just enough for two people to enter.
Utahime steps into the large room, Shoko following closely behind. An audience of men and women are gathered, they sit apart from each other, cross-legged on large cushions around a large dais in the centre of the ballroom. It is shaped in a square and covered in red velvet carpets, certainly soft to the touch as they seem. And at the heart of that raised platform, atop a white futon that could fit two people, sits her new husband.
Utahime’s breath hitches and she stops in her tracks altogether as she takes him in. Satoru in all his splendour. Sitting on his haunches and fists over his knees. A black silk robe absent of any threads or patterns that are painted and knitted into hers. His long hair tied back half-up, shorter fringes escaping the knot and covering the sides of his cheeks. Bangs falling over his pretty iridescent blue eyes. His face shares no expressions, no enthusiasm at her appearance. But his eyes never lie. Cerulean orbs that penetrate Utahime’s tender grace with unsaid desires and passion. As if they were churning in a spiral all this while and the moment he saw her, it now rises like a tremendous wave ready to fall on her. All of which she wishes she could give back equally.
But the crowd. The people. She feels their heavy gazes just as Satoru’s rests on hers. In fact, theirs felt heavier than his. For a moment, Utahime swears she can hear their collective breaths. Sounding like a gust of wind blowing over a beach. She looks only at her husband, but her mind is on everyone else, intruders, seated patiently. And then, she makes a mistake. Her eyes roam over the room, the faces. Some she recognises, others she’s never seen. People who will judge her, scorn her and laugh at her.
Is it too late to run? Perhaps she should. She lifts a foot to take a step back.
But a hand is on her shoulder, it slides down to her lower back and gently nudges her forward. Shoko’s other hand holds Utahime’s elbow as she is pushed to the front, up the steps and onto the platform, of which her husband is just two metres away from her. So close, she’ll reach him in six steps. But it feels like he is yards away from her. Utahime swallows thickly from the proximity or the lack of it, she doesn’t quite know. Her cold feet shifting over the velvet carpet, hands gripping her robe and mouth slightly open to puff our air that is too dense to leave her nostrils. And her eyes are held firm by Satoru who is too still for her liking. His gaze is too focused, eyes blinking slowly and breaths too calm.
Shoko’s arms wound around Utahime’s waist, fingers reaching for the golden ribbon and untying it without hurry. Allowing it to fall soundlessly as if it meant very little, but how her robe has loosened around her frame and nearly parted to reveal the rest of her body practically screamed its significance. Her cheeks become red as cherries, her throat gulping rather rapidly. And when Shoko held the collar of her robe, pulling it off to reveal the rest of the newlywed, the bride of Gojo Satoru, Utahime held her breath. The silk drags over her skin, peeled away slowly that the air is given time to kiss her skin leisurely. Inches of porcelain flesh is revealed as if she is a present being unwrapped. In a way she is. And no soon did the one garment that protected her value fall soundlessly as the ribbon did, leaving Utahime’s naked body to sing its own embarrassment before a whole audience.
“Good luck.” Shoko whispers and leaves her.
Utahime’s breaths turned to pants, her chest rising and falling with them. Throat drying and trying to lick the roof of her mouth to spread some wetness. So she doesn’t look like a breathless dog on her wedding night. But it was rather difficult while standing buttnaked before an audience of more than fifty people. And even more, when the one she loves is so still he’s almost cruel.
But then his right hand unfurls from his fist and rises towards her, fingers opening and closing once to beckon her. And Utahime finds her strength to take her first step and then another and another. As she moves she sees how his hard eyes show restraint, calm breaths were only to push down a great urge. He wants her. Of course, he wants her. He always has so why would he stop wanting her now? The thought makes Utahime feel stupid, that she even had to remind herself that he does.
Her steps are faster and in less time than she expected, she stands before her kneeling husband who looks up at her in a daze, hardness forgotten and eyes roving her form. Her perky breasts, her stomach and finally her crotch hidden behind curls. His gaze descends further to her feet and he keeps there. Utahime is about to kneel before him when his right hand cups her knee, halting her. Gently telling her to remain standing. Which she really doesn’t want to do with the people around her having a clear view of her nudity. But then his other hand touched the bridge of her foot, caressing over her ankle, up her shin and back to squeeze her calf. His other hand that touches her knee also moves behind and up her thighs, fingers ghosting the inside of it. Lightly, they touch her pussy lips.
“Satoru”, Utahime breathes out.
He looks at her yet makes no response.
That hand descends back to her foot, taking it into his hand. Utahime steadies herself on one foot and watches in awe as her husband kisses her foot. She gulps as his lips remain pressed to her. It is unexpected, such reverence and love. Kissing his wife’s foot for his whole clan to see. Showing them that he honours her dearly. Then his lips rise tracing over her leg. Leaving some kisses, drawing patterns over her that they leave gooseflesh in their wake. His other hand continues to stroke the leg that she is standing on. His smooches become open-mouthed, a bit of wetness left on her. His tongue peaking out and licking as he moves up and up till her knee is hooked over his shoulder, his hand resting on her thigh of that leg, and Satoru is kissing the inside of her thigh.
Utahime feels herself shuddering as she knows what’s coming next. Where his goal is and exactly what part of him is going to find it. She flushes in embarrassment, her breaths harder from anticipation now. Is he really going to eat her out in front of everyone?
Satoru mouth continues its ministration as it travels higher, stopping only to bite her inner thigh and causing her to yelp, he licks over the hurt and directs his suckles to where her leg meets her pelvis. And then he pulls one of her pussy lips into his mouth and sucks, scrapping it with his teeth as he does so. Utahime inhales sharply. Mouth gaping and shoulders pushed up. Her hands find support on his shoulders, keeping her upright as the tension rises. And shoots higher when his tongue licks over her clit. Utahime has to keep herself from grinding on his face, finding herself starving for his care, his ministration. He’s not making it any easier for her by going slow. Languid licks, circling around her flushed button. A twitch of her hips and only then does he take her into his mouth. He sucks and Utahime moans out loud, the sound echoing throughout the room. Her hands on his shoulder move up to fist the hair on either side of his head, his tresses slipping off his bun.
Satoru’s mouth opens and closes on her. His lips tracing over her sex and soaking it with his saliva, sucking and slurping loudly. The hand on her thigh leaves to grope her ass, massaging and nails digging into her supple flesh. Pressing her closer into him. Utahime teeters and closes her eyes, forgetting the crows before her and simply succumbing to every thought that is only occupied by her husband. The way he presses his nose to her pearl and nuzzles into her. How his wet muscle travels lower, locating her needy hole and circling it. Not quite breaching. She wants it. She wants his tongue inside and his licks only spur her to drag her cunt over his face.
Both of his hands grip her hips harshly to keep her still. When she looks down, she finds his icy blue eyes glaring at her. Near reprimanding. As though he didn’t want her to fuck his face. Which she immediately found odd because Satoru loves having her sit on his face. Her brows knit together but he just goes back to doing what he was doing. His tongue at her entrance. His lips kissing area, teeth scraping. Utahime pushes her confusion with the look he gave her seconds ago away, and decides to focus on him. On what they’re doing. This is their first time as husband and wife after all. She doesn’t want this moment ruined.
To her dismay, he doesn’t push his tongue into her pussy. But his right leaves from where it was perched on her hip to dip his longer middle finger into her.
“Satoru”, Utahime gasps out.
He hums, the sound reverberating into her, lips returning to pleasure her clit. His tongue playing with her as his finger continually tapped that spong part within her. His acts were in tandem with each other, every press to her g-spot matches a complete circle of his wet muscle on her pearl. Utahime huffs out quick breaths now, trying to keep her voice down so they won’t hear more of her moans. But she is fighting for her life. Letting out weak mewls and whimpers when she wants to scream and beg, moan his name until he lets her come on him. More her restricted body screams, desiring so much to rub herself on him. More, more, more. And when he adds a second finger, he begins to suck on her without cease or rest. And his digits worked faster the harder he sucked. She isn’t able to control herself anymore. Her hips move in tight circles over him, one hand lets go of his hair to pinch her nipple. The other only pushes him further into her. Her quick gasps turn to clear hums and groans of pleasure. Not even bothering to hide anymore. That is just how good she feels. How he is making her feel. The building pressure, passion flaring, making her sex and the inside of thighs so wet that she smiles from the thought, her heart beating rapidly, her nipples hardening, hips grinding.
His kisses, his tongue, his fingers, his moans. Him, him, him . And–
“Oh!” Utahime doubles over, pulling Satoru’s face away from her as she shudders from her peak. Her whole body shivers as her orgasm pulsed through her. Satoru keeps her upright with his hands back on her hips, his lips easing her by kissing along her pelvis.
Her knees grow weak and she gently lowers herself. Satoru positions her to sit on his lap as he settles back. Her behind on his thigh, thighs to his hips. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she drops her head to his shoulder, the feel of his silk robe is cold against her skin. Her husband soothes her by rubbing up and down her spine, his kisses trailing over her hairline. He doesn’t say a word though. And she wonders why because he’s always so mouthy.
Utahime pulls back to look at him, her hands cradling his face. This time when he looks at her, his eyes are soft. He is relaxed and there is admiration in his neutral expression. His pink mouth glistens with her essence as does the tip of his nose. She smiles at that. Leaving a kiss on his nose then dragging her tongue up from his chin to the seam of his lips. Which he opens so her tongue could enter and play along his own. They kiss. Sweet yet deep. For some reason, it feels like it's been ages since they kissed. She exhales into it, pushing herself into him that she feels his hard member against her stomach.
That moment seems to wake him up. Because he instantly retreats from their kiss. His arm secures Utahime to him as he turns and lowers her onto the futon. Utahime’s hands roam his body, his neck, clavicles and chest. Just the same as his knuckles skim the side of her breast, thumb rubbing her over. His other hand supports him as he looms over her. She rises to her elbow and takes his ear into her mouth, sucking and pulling at his lobe. Satoru lets out a deep rumble that she wishes to make louder. And she plans to do just that when her hand on his chest begins to lower over his abs, pelvis, brushing his stiff cock hidden under his robe.
She seems to forget their crowd. Or more accurately, she doesn’t bother about them anymore. Being with Satoru has broken the spell of embarrassment and humiliation. What is there to be humiliated for when this is their love? When this is how they show devotion and worship each other. And along those lines, she finds that she wants these intruders to know. She wants them to witness how she makes their clan head groan and let loose. She wants them to watch how he drives her insane and take control of her.
Though, Satoru seems to have other plans.
His hand at her breast suddenly splays over her chest and gently pushes her down, his other hand that held him up now takes hold of the wrist of her wandering hand and pins it above her head. He’s over her once more, his brows are a little pulled together. And hers are furrowed as well. Why is he acting so weird? They’ve done this so many times and he’s always been so responsive in speech and expressions. He has always kept his emotions bare when he’s with her. Fine, there’s a crowd here. But wasn’t he excited about ‘claiming’ her? And now he’s acting like he doesn’t even want to do this anymore. Even if it's with her.
Maybe he had a change of heart at the last minute. That’s why he’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to show themselves completely because, well, they are intruders. Some things are just for only the both of them to know. That’s why he didn’t want her grinding on his face, it’s only for him to know. He didn’t want her pleasuring him too. As that is only for her to know too.
Well, now she wants to smack him upside the head. This is something he should’ve thought about sooner! Not when they’re already here and he made her come with his mouth for all to see! It's her turn to glare at him and he gives her a little pout, so much more himself.
She raises her hand to his cheek and he nestles into her palm, closing his eyes as he basks in her warmth. “It’s our first time as a married couple.” Satoru opens his eyes and watches her carefully as she implores to him, “At least be a little more of my Satoru. I don’t want to bed a stranger on my wedding night.”
Satoru shakes his head and smiles at her, he takes her hand on his face and pins that too above her head next to her other. He brushes his nose with hers, a lift of his mouth to show her that familiar smirk. “Hey, wifey. Did you miss me?”
Utahime grins at him. “Yes, I did, you asshole.”
He dips his head and kisses her deeply, sucking on her lower lip and pulling it with his teeth as he parts from.
Satoru rubs her cheek with his. “I hate that they can see you like this.”
Utahime brings her hand to the back of his head and pulls on the band that holds his hair together till they’re free and falling around his glorious face. “Weren’t you teasing about taking me from behind in front of everyone?” She raises her brow at him.
“Not happening.” He says so firmly that it surprises her. That serious voice of his that she will never get used to because of how rare it happens. “I’ll blast everyone here before they see you get on your knees. I’m worshipping you tonight. So at least they know who’s the real boss here.”
“This wouldn’t be my first choice on how to show them.” She shrugs. “But we’ll have to make do.”
Satoru smiles and gives her a chaste kiss on her lips and temple as a form of his gratitude. “Don’t get up, don’t turn around. I don’t want them to see you anymore.”
“Okay.” Utahime nods, her smile not retracting even a little.
Satoru’s lips trace her ear and move to where it attaches to her neck, nosing her jaw as he moves to her other side. “I was already stressed about this whole thing since I sat here. But the moment you came through that door, looking like a fucking goddess, I just wanted to teleport us both out of here and have you all to myself. Wrap your legs around me and have you against the wall. Remember that one time on campus?”
“Ugh, that was so embarrassing.” Her hands roam his shoulders and drag his robe down. Splaying and rubbing over his toned back, caressing him with her nails.
He visibly shudders her touch but doesn’t let it phase him. His kisses lower over the line of her throat till he mouths at her clavicles. “You say that. But I’ve never gotten you off faster than that. Thrice too. You were so hot for it, I knew you liked fucking around with a little risk to it. And I thought you’d like this too.”
Utahime’s breaths are deeper and she feels her heat growing down there. “I suppose sometimes I won’t mind you staking your claim over me in front of others.”
Satoru lifts his head and she is met with his impish grin. “Because you like being Gojo Satoru’s girl, don’t you?” His hand brushed over her nipple, pinching it and then rolling. “You like having my fingers in your soaking hot pussy.” His tongue licks from her collarbone down to the other mound and lightly closes his lips around her teat and lets it slip out of his mouth gently. “You love it when I suck on these pretty tits. You want people to know how good I make you feel. That only I can make you feel this way.”
“ Yes .” was all she could say as she arches her body towards him. Opening up to be devoured.
Satoru’s hands drag over her ribs and grab hold of her hips as his tongue works on her nub. Utahime moans into his ear, keeping her voice low enough only for him to hear. She trails her toes over his calf and back down. Her one hand plays with his hair, twirling them around a digit and then running her hand through them. Her other hand attempts to fulfill its mission: removing that goddamned robe off his beautiful body. Pushing down as much as she could the more he focused on her breasts. Satoru is kissing her stomach when he relents and removes the article himself and sits up. He hooks bothe her thighs over his but Utahime sits up and kisses up his abs, teeth scraping his sternum. Her tongue licks from his clavicle, up his throat and to his chin, leaving a short kiss there before she lays back down. Her arms above her head, chest heaving from anticipation, mouth apart and eyes pleading.
Satoru tilts his head and gives her a boyish smile. His dominant hand is between her legs and she part them further for him to prepare his home within her. She’s wet enough. But she wants him to feel her. She wants more. So she lightly pushes into his hand, a small movement that only he notices. His thumb swipes over her clit and rubs it in tight circles. Utahime throws her head back and closes her eyes. Her hands fist the futon beneath them. It's so hard to keep still but she tries. For him, she tries. Even when that damn thumb pushes on her clit, when he pinches her and then inserts two of his fingers inside her for a second time.
Their eyes meet, a drunken look on both of them. His fingers caress her pussy, slow and gentle. Lightly pressing on her g-spot, taking its sweet time to heighten her pleasure. The same time he stretches to drag up and down over her swollen button. Utahime whimpers, her features morphing to saccharine torture. Knitted brows and pouting lips. The same time Satoru bites his lips and begins to smirk at her. His pace is steady like he has all the time in the world. The slightness and softness of it torments and pleases her that she cannot help but roll her hips with his gentle ministrations. Little circles of her hips rising off the futon and back down onto it on repeat. And darling Satoru allows her this small privilege.
He pulls his fingers out of her and sticks them into his mouth, slowly dragging them out as he appreciates the taste of her on them. His hands stoke up her thighs, her body until they hold his wait with her head between them, Satoru above her once more. They kiss, languid and lazy. The same time his hips nestles between her thighs and their pelvis meet. His harness pressing on her sex and Utahime wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Her knees are already pressing into his body, goading him into her. Satoru laughs into their kiss and removes one hand to take hold of himself. She senses him rubbing himself and then dragging the tip of his cock from her button down to her hole. He keeps doing that, mixing their juices and touching each other so crassly but still not there yet. Poor, desperate Utahime chasing him to finally enter. He still doesn’t.
Utahime pulls away from the kidd. “ Satoru ”, she chides.
Her husband swallows her complaint and presses in just enough for his head to catch on her pussy, then a little nidge and he breaches her. Utahime mewls and has to lift her head to breathe. The feel of him, every stroke and inch. The more he enters her, she feels herself grow wetter and invites him. It burns so well. Lulls and awakens her to him a thousand times over. It makes her so happy that it's him. That this is happening at all with him. Satoru kisses around her jaw and holds her tight as he now snug inside her. His pelvis pushing in even more to tease her, remind her what they’re about to do. Oh, she knows! And she’s anticipating it like the first spring after a long winter.
Utahime brings her lips to his ear and whispers; “Make love to me, Satoru. Make love to your wife.”
He obliges.
Satoru intertwines his fingers with hers and pins her down. His stomach against her and his lips brushing over Utahime’s. Their eyes hold each other's gaze with great favour and they do their best not to miss each other’s expression when he pulls out and moves into her. Steady and tender. Slow yet strong. He does it again. And again. Utahime moans the more he does it. Her voice grows louder and louder. He doesn’t silence her, nor does she bother shutting up. Simply, because they forgot they have an audience. Because right now, in each other’s embrace and united as one, they were the only beings worth focusing on.
Utahime lets go of his hands and places hers on his back, moving low till they meet his backside and squeeze him in her hands, pushing him into her. Guiding him the way she wants him. Not all the way in but just halfway. A little more torture for them to enjoy. And Satoru lets her take control, following her wordlessly. He’s panting into her ear, sucking beneath and nipping too. His one hand threading down the silk of her hair and the other holds the back of one of her thighs to push her open a little wider for him.
It drives her crazy once he does that. He’s making room for himself but he’s not even fucking her fully. Though it was Utahime who set the pace. She just wanted to prolong this. She wants their union to last for a whole hour. Or more than that if she has more control of their bodies. Making him only enter halfway stops him from rubbing that spongy spot inside her. So close, so sweetly stretching her but not really kissing her where he should. It hurts, it hurts so much it so fucking good .
Oh, just a little more , she thinks. Just a little bit more.
“It feels so good”, she whines. “You feel so good.”
“Yeah?” She feels him smile though she doesn’t see it. The lilt in his voice confirms his grin though. He just sounds so amused and happy. Oh. God. He sounds so sexy . “So you’re fine with me barely fucking you? You don’t want me to go deeper, baby? Hit that sweet spot inside this needy cunt? Don’t you want me to?” He licks behind her ear.
Utahime smiles too. “I want…”
“Hmm?”
She turns her head and captures his lips with his. Their tongues mingle in tandem with the rolling of their hips. “I want this to last longer.”
Satoru hums and rubs their noses together. “Just say you want me to die.”
She arches her back and presses her tits to his chest. “Doesn’t this feel good, Satoru?”
“Oh, it's so good it's maddening”, he says in a whisper. Like it's a secret. “I’m going to lose my mind if we keep doing this.”
But isn’t that what’s making this so–....so…out of the world? So erotic and pleasurable. Being so restrained and craving that release. So much that she wants to beg for it when it's close. She wants him to fuck her hard and fast, pound into her like an animal that she can’t hold back on her screams and her body jerking hard with his movements. He could do it. He has done it. And she wants it right now.
But he doesn’t want them to know, she remembers. This is for them, only them. The world doesn’t deserve to know Satoru and Utahime. Not like this.
So Utahime tells him: “Then fuck me and fill me up now. But promise we’ll savour this later.”
Satoru smiles, he rises from her body, sitting back on his haunches and grips her hips. Utahime's mouth opens, knowing what’s coming for her. His eyes glinting and his bangs falling over his eyes, long hair brushing his shoulder teasing the image of that mischievous side of his. “Deal.”
Satoru pulls back and slams into her. No warning and no patience either. Utahime yells out when he does it again. Twice. Thrice. Hitting that spot in her again and again that she melts in his hands. His hold on her is bruising, his fast movements forcing her legs to stretch wider apart from each other. Her arms flailing over head for any purchase to hold own for dear life while her husband fucks it out of her. Her breasts jiggle up and down simultaneously with his pounds.
It's sin and blessing, it's heaven and hell. It's all and everything the moment he holds her makes her all of his. And she surrenders. She surrenders willingly and happily to his fat cock driving in and out of her, abusing her g-spot repeatedly and making her scream . The squelches and wet sounds do not escape her either. But she’s more focused on his hand snaking over her body, her stomach, valley of her breasts and finally squeezing her throat.
Utahime’s whole body sings to his tune and it seizes. So close. So close. Her fingers find her bundle of nerves and she rubs herself. It takes only a few for her to plummet into her orgasm. Her whole body shaking and spasming and Satoru, beautiful and perfect Satoru, fucks her through it. And where she ends, he begins. He keels over her, ropes off his cum filling her up and his hips stuttering as he does so. The muscles of his back tenses and he lets out shuddering breaths. Satoru collapses onto her and Utahime supports his weight, hugging and soothing him as he comes down from his high. The same time he caresses and kisses her to comfort her. They share a kiss but are interrupted by the sound of a gong
A gong? Utahime looks up over her head to the crowd that are suddenly scrambling and grabbing their partners. Some immediately stripping down and others first kissing and groping each other lazily. She furrows her brows and is confused by how quickly they shifted from watching Satoru and Utahime to just getting it on. She wasn’t expecting applause or lauds obviously. But perhaps some judgement… Was she really worried about nothing?
Satoru blows on her ear and she shows him her baffled expression.
He snickers. “What?”
Utahime gestures to everyone else. “This is weird.”
Satoru shrugs. “Guess they just wanted a free show.” Utahime rolls her eyes. Satoru looks up and his eyes widen. “Oh, lookey here.”
Utahime turns onto her body while Satoru still cages her and watches in awe as Shoko marches with purpose, past smoochers and fuckers, to a quiet Suguru who remain sitting at a far corner. His green robe wrapped tightly over him that his muscles bulged through the thin material. His eyes are enamored by Shoko’s and he merely stares as she reaches him. He holds her gaze as she kneels before him, takes his face in her hands. He only closes them when she leans in as he does too, and their lips touch.
Utahime’s jaw drops open and she’s so happy for them! Satoru sits up and begins to clap, opening his mouth to howl when Utahime pulls him down quickly.
“Don’t ruin the moment!”
“I am going to commemorate this day”, Satoru pronounces to her rather giddily. “The day my two idiot best friends finally shut the fuck up and made out with each other.”
Utahime squints at him. “This day is already commemorated, dumbass. It’s our anniversary!”
“It can have a second purpose!”
Utahime glares at Satoru and he pulls her into a hug. “Fine. Tomorrow will be Suguru and Shoko’s day.”
“Fine.” She says, wounding her arms around his waist as he presses his lips to her hair. And as they sit there, embracing in love and loyalty; the rest of the hall reverberates with sex noises. Utahime finds herself wanting to leave immediately.
But Satoru asks her before she speaks, “Are you feeling alright?
Utahime smiles and nuts her cheek into his chest. “So much better. You?”
“So much much better.”
They both smile warmly and just remain in each other’s hold with those fuzzy wuzzy feelings still intact.
Until they hear a few more loud moans and groans that they both part with disgusted looks on their faces.
“Can we leave?” Utahime pleads.
“Yup!” Satoru announces enthusiastically.
They wear their formerly discarded robes and make their exit. And though they left the ballroom for uncomfortable reasons, Utahime will always reminisce how Satoru cradled her out and all the way to their bedroom, laughing and kissing as they always do despite the huge change in their life.
Really, ‘husband and wife’ was just an upgrade. They’ll still and always be Satoru and Utahime.