Archive of Our Own

Satoru always chooses a girl as his avatar. What can he say? They’re cuter and the accessories are so much better, but there are even more perks. 

Sometimes, he downplays his own skills to get free carries. If he’s really lucky, some stupid guys will ask for his discord and before he knows it, his new skins and weapons are being funded even though he can easily afford them himself. Some would argue he’s taking advantage of people… but is it really his fault if people want to buy him things? 

No. It isn’t. Blame the people willing to spend money on someone they’ve never even met. There’s no rule that claims taking advantage of stupidity is a crime. If there is, he needs to see it immediately.

It’s just another night, gaming with guys who have unknowingly become a part of his gaming fund. Someone unexpectedly has to go (Satoru doesn’t remember this man’s name for the life of him. Maybe it starts with a T?) so they get a random in their party for now.

Someone with the same avatar as Satoru. It makes his lips tighten, but he tries not to let it bother him.  It'll just be one match. No big deal. 

To his surprise, she’s actually pretty good too, catching the attention of the other guys in the party. Satoru huffs at his screen when they invite her to play again, but he can’t bring himself to be too upset when he gets a message at the end of their session. A simple one that reads, i like ur avatar. let me know if u want me to carry u again :p

There's a lot at play here that makes it hard to resist the smile that’s tugging at his lips. One, he isn’t immune to flattery. Even though they have the same base, he’s spent time and money (okay, and some other people's money, but that’s beside the point) to curate the accessories, hair and makeup to his liking. Plus, as much as he loves playing and showing off his skills, sometimes it’s nice sitting back and watching everyone else do the work. Once in a while he’ll really show off and that attention fuels him even more. 

So yeah, all this is really working out despite his initial annoyance. 

thx, he starts typing back. i like urs too. Do u have discord?

She gives Satoru her username and he adds her, taking a look at her profile. It's pretty plain, nothing like his that has a cute gif profile picture and accompanying profile picture decoration. She doesn’t even have nitro. Does she not care about expressing herself with emotes? Weird, but he guesses that’s fine. 

He wonders when he’ll hear from her again, if he ever will hear from her again, but that’s nothing for him to worry about.

It’s a few days until he hears from her, a random Thursday on the cusp of midnight. Satoru is already done playing, laying lazily in bed, reading manga on his phone when he gets the notification. 

Hey.

Nothing else. Not even a default smiling emoji. 

weren’t u supposed to b carrying me?

The bubbles come up instantly, Satoru wondering how she’s going to respond. damn lol i cant even get a hi back?

He can’t hold back the laughter. He’s used to guys apologizing profusely and promising to carry him for hours the next time they play, or even offering to play at that very moment, but this is different. This feels friendly, like banter he engages with when he’s with Shoko. Nothing like the give and take interactions he’s become accustomed with when playing. 

Hello. Good evening, he types. Is it even evening for her? Time zones and all. For all he knows it can be the crack of dawn where she is. weren’t u supposed to carry me?

u don’t have a job? Satoru laughs as the bubbles pop up again. u just wait around for people to carry u?

i DO have a job first of all, Satoru defends. i was just relaying what you promised me

This is the first time Satoru actually feels his palms sweating as he awaits a response, the lack of instant bubbles making him think he fucked up. 

i guess ur right , she answers a few minutes later. What a relief. Why is it a relief though? He doesn’t know this girl… yet, he wants to keep her around. let’s play tmrw. But without all those other guys u know. they suck.

He guesses those are his friends to some extent, but he feels no reason to defend them. From the way she was playing, they definitely could learn a thing or two. 

ok i’ll message u then. Satoru falls asleep with an odd smile on his face from such an innocent interaction.

As promised, they play again the next day, just the two of them. Truth be told, it’s the most fun Satoru has had playing in a while, and he’s the one to insist that they play again. 

So they do, almost on a daily basis to the point where his previous group keeps asking why he is online but ignoring their requests. It;s not even worth explaining that he didn't value them as plates as much as he did as a resource for his character enhancement. He doesn’t even mind using his own money because playing with her, “rnbwdrgn23”, puts a huge smile on his face. Games have always been something he loved, but it’s been even more fun with her around.

why were u playing like tht the first time? she messages.

It's been about two months since they’ve met, talking on a daily basis. It's nice, really. Even on the days they don’t play together, Satoru genuinely finds himself wanting to know how her day went, curious about how work was or if she did anything interesting. It could all be in his head, but he thinks it’s mutual.

It almost makes him feel bad for not revealing more. There have been times where he wanted to ask to voice chat, but how would she react knowing he isn’t actually a girl? Well, he guesses he’s never explicitly said anything to imply he’s one, but wouldn’t that just make him a liar regardless? It’s a bit too tough to call. He swallows it down and starts to reply.

like what?

like garbage

He actually laughs, loud and long because he’s dropped the facade of needing to be carried. He would like to say he’s even better than her, but it depends on the day.

oh fuck off. ur only good cuz u have no other hobbies!

wrong, she denies. unlike u who eats take out all day, i know how to cook. i can sew too, u know

Satoru knows this. He actually knows a fair amount about her. Likes, dislikes, hobbies. She's actually the first real friend he’s made throughout all of his years of gaming, and maybe that’s why he feels the need to be even more cautious despite how unfair it is to her.

It gets harder the closer they get, sharing just enough about each other, yet still not giving too much away. Satoru just wants to get it off his chest.

How hard can it really be? It’s not like if he gets a bad reaction it’s going to ruin his life. He can live without talking to her again. He’ll just go back to the other guys he played with, or find a new group of people because millions of people play this game. He really won’t be affected… or that’s just what he’s telling himself to sleep at night as he thinks it over again and again.

It’s getting increasingly difficult. Every time she messages him good morning and wishes him a goodnight, he wants to know the message is for him and not whoever she thinks is on the other side of the screen.

He needs to bite the bullet, get it out in the open and deal with whatever happens as a result.

That doesn’t eliminate any of his fear though.

i gotta tell u smthn. He bites his lip, finger hovering over the send button before he sighs and hits it. 

what? u takin a shit? she answers a few minutes later.

ur always so concerned with my ass

cuz im always carrying it, aren’t i?

Satoru laughs, but he needs to stay on track before he just psychs himself out. look im bein serious. it’s smthn actually important

…ur kinda scaring me

don’t b scared… 

sounds like something a killer says before they murder someone’s entire family…

I’m not a killer!

sounds like something a killer would say if u ask me

He’s not even sure the last time someone made him laugh this much in person, but he needs to concentrate, say what he needs to say. But suddenly, the thought of this being the last time he’ll ever laugh at something she says makes his chest feel just a little hollow. He purses his lips as his thumbs hover over the letters that will reveal his truth. No more preludes, he just needs to rip it off like a wax strip and prepare for whatever pain will come after. 

im not a girl. Send. 

There, the truth is out. His heart is pounding dramatically against his chest, the beating reverberating so loudly in his ears he fears he’s going deaf. 

The lightning quick responses he was getting mere moments ago come to a halt—one, two, three, four, five minutes pass that turns into ten minutes of pure, unadulterated agony.

This is bad. Really bad. He should have probably just stuck with the lie and dealt with it when push came to shove instead of prompting this conversation. He checks her profile just to make sure he didn’t instantly get blocked, but they’re still friends. She’s still online.

Maybe he should just say he’s joking. Or block her first so he doesn’t have to deal with the potential rejection. He honestly just wants to throw his phone, his PC, anything that can access discord into an abyss to forget he even initiated this conversation. 

A ping. It makes him nearly leap out of his skin. It’s her.

ok?

That’s it? Satoru was on the verge of destroying his thousand dollar PC set up and resorting to living like a nomad in the mountains for a measly ok?

Ok yeah, the reaction could have been worse but now Satoru feels foolish for worrying. 

thts all u have to say????

yeah???? The bubbles pop up to show she’s still typing. i mean, wht else do u want me to say???

idk??

??????

…well… uh… this is quite anticlimactic and Satoru should probably punch himself in the face for being both dramatic and a liar.  

Former liar, to be exact.

He feels flustered looking at the barrage of question marks on the screen, debating what to say next. Should he apologize? Maybe just brush it off because clearly it isn’t that big of a deal? He really doesn’t know. He’s never been in this situation before and there isn’t a “how to navigate confessing to your online friend after freaking out about it” for dummies in his arsenal. 

Just drop it. Nothing is changing clearly… but there’s something nagging at him to just… clear all this up. 

so u don’t care?

no??? More bubbles. ur still ass anyway

I THOUGHT U WOULD BE MAD, he starts typing, practically button mashing and hyperventilating. CUS YOU KNOW…

why are u yelling at me all of a sudden??? Shes typing again. and cus i know wht??

YOU KNOW… cuz we aren’t both girls

bro im not a girl

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck is going on. Mouth agape, he stares at the series of messages, trying to figure out where everything got so misconstrued. So she—no, he… or…them? Satoru is more confused than ever and maybe this will end his days of lying online.   

WHAT

what???

what do u MEAN

?????? Satoru waits for a response as the bubbles pop up. i never said i was a girl????

TELL ME UR PRONOUNS

he/him?????

WHY DIDNT U SAY ANYTHING???

u never asked????? and ur yelling again???  

Man, what the fuck.

Fair point he guesses, but this still feels like some kind of lie. Omission… yeah. That’s what this is. But he’s even more curious now. 

explain urself! he demands. 

wht is there to explain?? im a man???

why were u using a Sabrina carpenter skin then!!

damn i can’t like sabrina carpenter??????

Satoru laughs to the point where he has to clutch his stomach and catch his breath, the ridiculousness of this entire situation catching him off guard.

…what does he look like though? Is he ugly like all those other guys he’s met, or is he as handsome as Satoru? Is there a feature about him that’s really striking, like his eyes? Or maybe he has hair that’s so impeccable, it makes people turn their heads wherever he goes. For some reason, Satoru feels extremely compelled to know. 

so.. r u sayin we can vc?

bro we could have done that anytime

Way to make him feel like a stupid, lying asshole. He huffs and looks at the time, a smirk curling on his pink lips. It’s nearing the time they would be playing anyway, his curiosity furiously eating away at him. 

Fuck it, he’s calling now.

The call connects instantly. 

“Why the fuck did you think I was a girl?” Jesus, he doesn’t even mind being berated, being bombarded with such a sexy voice in his ears nearly making him fly out his gaming chair. It’s rich, deep, yet still so smooth. He should have done this sooner.

“Fuck off. I just assumed.”

“Dumb ass assumption.”

“Shut up and carry me.”

He laughs, and that sounds really good too. In fact, he actually needs the carrying because listening to his voice has him more distracted than he should be. It probably wouldn’t be wise to stick his hand down his pants and get off to his voice the first time he’s hearing it, but he’s oh so tempted. The thought of accidentally moaning on their first calls brings him back to reality.

… he’ll save that for later tonight. 

“What’s your name by the way?” Satoru asks as they're wrapping up their session. “I’m Satoru."

“Suguru,” he answers. 

Suguru… he can get used to saying that. With some luck, maybe he’ll get to see what he looks like too in due time.

All great friendships start with a lie, or however the saying goes. If it even exists. Whatever. 

The point is, Satoru was already talking to Suguru everyday before he came clean, but they seem even closer now. It’s not just discord calls when they’re gaming together, it’s phone calls when he’s bored and wants nothing more than to hear his voice. Sometimes, Suguru is at work and can’t talk much, but even his silence on the phone is a comforting presence Satoru hasn’t exactly experienced before. He doesn’t know what to call it, but Shoko being the know it all claims she knows exactly what’s going on. 

A crush. 

“He might be some old ass man though,” she laughs over lunch one day. 

“He doesn’t sound like an old man.” Satoru rolls his eyes, Suguru’s smooth voice sounding in the back of his head.

“What if he’s using a voice changer?” She cocks a brow. “You know, like in the Scream movies.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” He rolls his eyes even harder this time, huffing as he does. “Plus he’s the same age as me. And you.” He challenges her brow raise. “You calling us old?”

“Did you forget people can lie?”

He blinks. Obviously he knows people can say absolutely anything—he’s done it more than enough times himself for no reason at all—but the thought of Suguru lying just… never occurred to him. 

Because why would he? They’re practically best friends. Plus he’s been truthful about so many other things, the dips his mental health takes sometimes, how draining his job can be, how much he loves talking to Satoru because it makes a bad day better. 

He wouldn’t lie. No. 

“You don’t know him.”

It’s Shoko's turn to roll her eyes as she just sighs. “Fine. When you find out he actually looks and sounds like the crypt keeper, don’t worry.” She flashes him a sardonic smile. “I’ll be here to comfort you.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses. 

He’s a bit annoyed, but he still gives her a bear hug as they part. Of course the first thing he’s thinking about when he pushes the key in the lock is Suguru. 

A crush. 

He can’t exactly refute it. The man is always on his mind, wandering through his thoughts when he’s sleeping, the ghost of his voice slinking down his spine when he wakes up.

His phone rings. So lost in thought he jumps, scrambling for where he put it on his desk. Should he even be surprised who it is?

“Hey,” he answers. 

“Hey?” Suguru responds, sounding the slightest bit confused. 

“Good afternoon…?”

Suguru scoffs. “I was trying to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Why would I be—”

“I thought you were going to call me after you finished lunch with your friend, that’s all,” he says gently.

His face feels warm, heart drumming in his chest. Someone who expresses this kind of concern wouldn’t be a liar, right?

Suguru knows him and his routines, his tendency to call the second he gets through the door. 

“So you were waiting for me?”

“Of course I was.” Fuck, that makes Satoru smiles. One of those toothy grins that Shoko would say is too goofy for his own good. “I left work early today. I missed you.”

Fuck. 

God, satoru missed him too.

And maybe that’s not fair to say when he was sitting with one of his longtime friends, missing someone who others would say is a complete stranger to him. 

He did though. He absolutely was thinking about hearing his voice again, listening to his laugh as he lays in bed.

“I missed you too.” Just saying the words makes his face heat up more. He misses a good meal once it’s done, playing a game for the first time again… not people. And no, he doesn’t even miss Shoko since half of their time together is poking fun at each other (lovingly, of course). This is new… but he likes it. 

“Now get your ass on the game.”

“Fine,” Satoru snorts, turning on his console and grabbing his controller. 

Shoko’s words float back to him while they’re playing, the implication that Suguru could be lying about anything at all. The thought is just… preposterous. 

But there’s a curiosity that Satoru has been dying to scratch, an itch that’s been pestering him from the moment he heard his voice. 

“Suguru,” Satoru says as they finish their last match, clearing his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Suguru laughs, making him bite his lip at such a pleasant sound. He needs to stay focused though.

“Why are you being so formal?” he chuckles. “What’s up?”

Satoru moves from his gaming chair to the bed, laying on his back he uses his shoulder to prop up the phone. A position more relaxed than before. 

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.” He clears his throat again. No going back. Go for it. “Do you ever wonder what I look like?”

There’s a pause, one that makes Satoru check that the call didn’t spontaneously disconnect. 

Anxiety is a foreign feeling, but he’s becoming acquainted with it now, hearing his heart beating in his ears, feeling the sweat starting to coat his palms.

Suguru still hasn’t said anything and Satoru wonders if he should just kill himself. It’ll save him the embarrassment if Suguru says, Absolutely not. I don’t give a fuck what you look like.

The obituary might be worse, local man commits suicide because his online friend denied wanting to know about his appearance.  

He shudders and sucks it up, giving it a few more seconds. Suguru is probably thinking his answer through, he deserves the time. It’s not like he could have been anticipating Satoru to ask something like this. 

“I do.”

What a fucking relief. His chest deflates and everything feels right in the world again, the birds are chirping and all the fish in the sea are swimming happily, a smile curling onto his lips. “I’ll send you a picture.”

Fuck, he’s going to have a choose a picture. Should he go with a candid one Shoko took, with his hair blowing in the breeze and a big, obvious smile on his face? Or maybe something more intentional, a smoldering expression with his eyes giving away how he really feels. He has a few headshots he took for his ID photo too that honestly don’t look too bad.

Decisions, decisions…

“No.”

This is the part in the story where the record scratches and Satoru peers into the camera like someone just kicked his puppy, because what the fuck does he mean no?

“Huh?” he asks, dumbfounded, head spinning and swarming with confusion.

“Tell me.”

“Tell… you?”

“Yeah,” he answers, nonchalant. “You know how to use adjectives, right? You said you graduated at the top of your class.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Satoru hisses. He might have a physics degree, but he knows how to formulate a sentence just fine. “Of course I know how to use them! Nouns too, if you must know.”

“Okay,” Suguru chuckles. “Then tell me what you look like. I’m waiting.”

Why does this seem so much harder? As if he’s never looked in the mirror a day in his damn life. 

“Right. Well.” Here goes nothing, he clears his throat again to get rid of the nerves. This is fine, he’s just talking about himself—which he likes to do.“I have white hair, it’s really soft.”

“White?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you actually in your twenties?” Suguru says in a mock accusatory tone.

“Fuck off, it’s genetic.”

“Alright, alright.” A low deep chuckles vibrates in Satoru’s ear, making his stomach flip. “Go on.”

“I have an undercut with some bangs in the front.” Instinctively, he touches his hair, just to make sure he isn’t lying. He should probably just work his way down. “My lashes are white, too. And I have blue eyes. My friends always say it's like looking up at the sky in the afternoon on a really nice day.”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums, making Satoru squirm where he lays in place, goosebumps brushing against the softness of his sheets. “Go on.”

“I like to work out.” Maybe it’s not that big of a reveal, he’s mentioned going to the gym a few times.

“So you have abs,” Suguru hums, sounding amused anyway if this isn’t show stopping news. “And a pretty nice chest too, I bet.”

Satoru’s eyes open wide. Is he asking… or is he telling. Either way, he’s starting to feel hot, squirming even more where he lays. If this goes on, he’s going to need to turn on the fan, or find some other way to alleviate this. “Yeah,” he answers. “I do. And I'm 6'3.”

“Nice legs too then.”

Christ. Forget the can, he might need to turn on the air conditioning if the conversation keeps going like this. Or he needs to end it because the tent growing in his pants probably isn’t appropriate at all. “I would say so,” Satoru answers quickly. 

“I’m painting a pretty nice picture in my head.”

“Well, good. I’ve been told I look like a work of art.”

“Yeah?” Suguru breathes into the receiver. “Then I hope I'm Picasso and I'm doing you justice.”

Is he… no. This isn’t flirting, right? He’s just responding to what Satoru is saying. Yep. That’s right.

This is extremely casual and definitely is not flirting in any way, shape, or form.

“Your turn,” Satoru says, even if it’s a bit of a deflection from himself.

“My turn?”

“Yes, tell me what you look like.”

“Someone is bossy,” Suguru laughs. “You never even said you wondered what I look like.”

Well, he never needed to say it because he’s been thinking it for all the months they’ve been friends. He swallows hard, pushing down any lingering nerves. “I’ve wondered what you look like for a while,” he admits. He isn’t hung up on, so he can assume he doesn’t sound like a complete creep. “So tell me. But I do accept pictures, if you must know.”

Suguru laughs, loud and long, and Satoru swears he hears a smile. 

“Okay.” Is satoru going crazy, or did his voice just go down an octave? It sounds sultry, like he’s trying to lure Satoru in, keep him trapped for all of eternity. “I’ll tell you.”

It’s been approximately a second since he spoke, but the anticipation is already killing  Satoru, toes curling and fingers restlessly twitching. 

“I have brown eyes. My mom always says they look like honey.”

One sentence and Satoru already feels himself getting harder. Great. He takes the liberty to turn on the fan using a remote control, putting it on the lowest setting. “That’s nice.” Satoru nods and quickly realizes he’s an idiot because Suguru can’t see him. 

He continues without being prompted, like he knows he already has Satoru hooked and virtually anything he says will continue to ruin him. “I have long, black hair. It reaches the middle of my back with some bangs in the front.” Okay, the picture is really coming together, and it definitely isn’t helping the current situation going on below. “I usually wear it in a bun for work, but it’s a relief when I can let it down.”

“I bet.” Can’t he think of anything better to say?

“My lashes are pretty thin, but everyone tells me I have bedroom eyes.”

That’s… hot. Really hot.

But who is… everyone? Not that he needs to know or anything.

“We’re the same height,” he chuckles. “And I like to work out too. Especially chest and arms, my biceps are my favorite part of my body.”

Why the fuck didn’t Satoru say something like that? He could have mentioned his strong legs or even his own arms that he’s proud of. Clearly, he’s an idiot and maybe he really doesn’t know how to use adjectives effectively. 

Whatever. He can look up more words to use later because right now he needs to focus on these words, paint his own picture. 

Someone his height with long hair, it’s probably silky and shines in the sunlight, like one of those shampoo commercials. His shoulders are probably broad and he would be able to jiggle his pecs. Maybe even smush his face between them and use his chest as a pillow and have the best sleep of his life thus far. 

And his arms… he could probably pick up Satoru easily, throw him over his shoulder like a prince rescuing a princess from a castle. Or even just scoop him up, putting his arms beneath his knees and lift him with no effort. Suguru wouldn’t even need Satoru to wrap his arms around his neck for support, his pure strength would allow satoru to practically float in hold as if he were a feather. Hell, he might even be able to juice an orange between his arms. Now that is a great visual.

Biting his lip, Satoru’s hand prods at his crotch, hips unconsciously jerking in the air, desperate for any kind of friction, some attention to soothe the ache that's starting to build up.

“You still there?” Suguru chuckles. Not one of those entertained laughs, but a devious one like he knows something Satoru doesn’t—like he knows Satoru is one description away from wrapping a hand around himself and hoping he can be as quiet as possible. 

He wouldn’t be able to handle a picture if some words are getting him this bothered. 

But this is a conversation after all, one he initiated and needs to be a participant in. So he gives his clothed cock one squeeze, something to sate him until he can hurry and hang the fuck up. “I’m here, go on.”

“Had to make sure,” he hums. “I have this big scar on my chest, hung out with the wrong crowd in high school.”

A scar. Satoru could kiss it. Even if it’s healed he can act like brushing his lips against the marred skin is doing a world of wonders. He squeezes his cock again, stifling a groan. 

“What does the scar look like?” he breathes out.

“Shape of an X that meets right in the middle of my chest.”

That shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t have him bucking his hips into his hand, but god it does. 

“Go on,” he urges, maybe a little desperately, some beads of sweat dripping down the length of his face despite the fan being on. 

“Hm, my dad always jokes that I look like my grandmother since both my parents’ skin are very fair,” he hums. “I always love being in the sun. I think it makes me look even better.”

So he’s been playing games with a golden god for months. Good to know.

“And I like wearing black nail polish, been that way since I was teenager." He laughs, one that lacks mirth. “Picked it up from that same crowd in high school. I guess that just kind of stuck.”

Satoru is picturing it now, a large, bronzed hand wrapping around his cock, his complexion such a beautiful contrast to his own. White fluid dripping from his tip, landing on black nails. Suguru would even joke that they look like yin and yang as he slowly starts to stroke him, looking at him with a lusty gaze. 

“Oh, I have a tongue ring too.” He sounds entertained. “Barbell is blue. Might match the color of your eyes.

Fuck.

Stay calm, relax. 

Do not imagine sultry, warm, brown eyes looking up from between his legs as a warm tongue with a barbell through it laps at his cock, making him shiver with each lick.

Get the thought of strong arms lifting him up and bouncing him on a thick cock out of his head.

Under no circumstances should he envision long hair dangling over his face when someone his height with broad shoulders and tanned skin gets on top of him and starts thrusting like his life depends on it. 

It’s totally abnormal to think about kissing your online friend who you now know has a pierced tongue, so he shouldn’t do it.

Relax. This is fine, just a little conversation between friends. 

“Cool.”

“That’s all I get?” He sounds genuinely disappointed, like he was waiting for Satoru to admit something absolutely heinous. “Cool?”

Well, maybe if he knew Satoru’s hand is slipping past the waistband of his briefs and gripping his dick, he wouldn’t sound so dejected right now. Multitasking is hard, okay? Plus, he’s trying to preserve his innocence, helping them both.

“Yes, really cool,” Satoru rushes out.” He… really needs to take care of this… alone…with this new visual. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No fucking way.”

“What do you—”

“Why are you rushing me off the phone? It’s not even ten.”

…he’s really punching himself in the face for holding Suguru hostage on the phone all the time. Of course he’s fucking confused.

“I can’t be tired?” he practically whines, giving his dick a squeeze. He’s going to have to pull a grand lie out of his ass to get out of this. Well… there’s no harm in just hanging out, but that would probably open another can of worms he would rather keep closed.

“No.” His answer is firm, final. “You keep me up until midnight like every night. You can stay up a few more hours.”

“I gotta pee.” And jerk off to the thought of you as fast as I can. 

“Now you’re acting like you haven’t pissed on the phone before.”

“What?” Satoru would love to scoff, but he’s trying not to let a moan out. “You like hearing me piss?”

“Maybe.” That shouldn’t make his dick pulse, but it unfortunately does and he’s so utterly fucked. “So what did you think?”

“Of?”

“My description?” Suguru chuckles. “Did you like it?”

It was wonderful suguru. So great in fact, that my dick is the hardest it’s been in months and if I don’t come I’m pretty sure I'm going to shrivel up and wither away into dust, gone but hopefully not forgotten. 

That’s what he would say if he didn’t have a brain in his skull. Considering he’s attempting to jerk off while on the phone with said person fueling his desire, maybe that brain he claims to have is absent, just got up and walked away the moment he decided to start this conversation because it knew it would end up like this, and would rather not be connected to such a fool.

“You have a way with words,” he settles on saying. 

“I’m going to take that as a good thing,” Suguru jests, a smile in his voice. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and it’s going to be a problem.

“It is,” Satoru answers, holding back another groan.

“Are you going to the bathroom now?”

“What?”

“You said you have to pee.”

Oh. “I’m too lazy to get up now.”

“So what are you doing now?” 

Suguru… you really, really don’t want to know. “Just laying here,” Satoru answers, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

It’s not like he needs to do this, he can stop—save this for later, choke his cock as much as he wants without worrying about being caught—but it just feels like he can’t , the heat of the moment too strong for him to resist. 

“That sounds boring,” Suguru scoffs. There’s some shuffling, a little bit of static on the other end. Maybe he’s laying down too. 

Maybe he’s… nah… he’s not thinking about Satoru the same way. That’s way too ambitious to think.

“Are you doing something better?” he counters quietly.

“Yeah,” Suguru laughs, short and sweet. He pauses a bit before he continues. “Much better.”

“What is it?” Satoru inquires, genuinely curious. 

“I’m thinking about you.”

Question: how is Satoru supposed to stop himself from jerking off now? Especially since Suguru is thinking about him too?

Not good. Not good at all.

Doesn’t that mean he doesn’t need to feel bad though? This doesn’t have to seem like such a sin when he’s on someone’s mind. 

“What about me?” he asks, slowly, tentatively, giving his cock another slow jerk, more sweat starting to form at the top of his forehead. He grabs the remote, turns the fan up another level.

“A lot,” Suguru replies vaguely, making Satoru have to hold back a whine. 

“Tell me,” he borderline demands, using Suguru’s own words against him, chest starting to heave up and down. 

“Hm.” A little more shuffling. “I’m thinking about how you look when you blush,” he hums thoughtfully. He’s honestly kind of shocked he got an answer out of him so easily. He was expecting a little more resistance, but this works just fine. “It would probably look really cute.”

He’d probably be pleased to know Satoru is absolutely red in the face, his face and chest splotched an aggressive shade of red. 

“And,” his voice dips, and Satoru can’t help but jerk his hips up again, “I’m thinking about you shirtless. I bet that’s really nice.”

And I'm thinking about your dick in my ass. Now what. 

He won’t say that though, he has some decency. Or maybe not because he’s—never mind. Completely besides the point. 

“I’m—yeah,” he sputters out, squeezing himself, watching fluid leak from his tip and dribble on his hand. Tissues are an arm length away, and the thought of his sheets getting messy suddenly isn’t so gross when Suguru is the reason why.

“Satoru.” 

Oh, that sounds different. Not like the times he says his name like he’s an annoyed teacher trying to get their sleeping student’s attention. Or the times he sounds like a parent scolding their child when he insists on being carried. 

This sounds like a purr, a person calling for the attention of their lover. It makes his dick twitch almost uncontrollably as he strokes himself again, from the tip to the base as he bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding more like a rhetorical question than something he is actually interested in knowing. 

“I’m… taking care of myself,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper, some mixture of shame and embarrassment filling every one of his pores and infiltrating his veins. 

This is going to be the end, but anyone could have guessed getting off on the phone is a surefire way to end a friendship. His greed is going to be the reason he loses his friend, and Shoko is going to laugh her ass off once he hears about this.

“Let me help you.”

What.

His mouth is dry, grip loosening on his cock out of pure shock. If he weren’t already busy, he would pinch himself to make sure this isn’t some elaborate dream sequence and he is in fact living and breathing in reality. 

“Tell me how I can help you.”

He swallows down all that shame and guilt and tightens his grip again.

Who is he to decline this offer? With his help, he'll be coming quicker than he knows and can forget this ever happened. He’ll have more self control. He’ll practice restraint and not act like a teenager exploring their body for the very first time.

But for now…

“I want you to tell me how you would fuck me.”

“Wasting no time, huh?” Suguru chuckles again, one that sounds dark and devious. “Hm, well first I would undress you. If you were wearing a button down shirt, I’d stand behind you and undo each button while I kiss the back of your neck,” he breathes. “Those are my favorite to take off of people.”

Satoru really doesn’t want to imagine him undressing someone else. He doesn’t even want to think that he's been with anyone else, but now isn’t the time to be possessive. 

He’s talking about wasting no time though? He jumped right into it like he was waiting too—which he isn’t complaining about by any means.

“Then what?” he asks, hips thrusting up into his smooth palm. 

“I’d unbutton your pants and throw them to the side. You’d probably already be hard just from thinking about me,” he laughs—arrogant little shit. “So I’d rub your cock over your underwear until you beg me to take them off.”

Fuck , Satoru would definitely beg. He’s begged for less. 

“If I think your begging is good enough, I’ll take them off and lead you to the bed, kneel between your legs and suck your dick until you come.”

Jesus Christ . Satoru moans shamelessly, bucking his hips up again, closing his eyes and pictures Suguru’s mouth on his cock. It would be warm and wet, his tongue would slobber all over him and make a complete mess. God, and his tongue ring. He’s never gotten head from someone with one before, but the thought is driving him insane, the warm, rounded barbell dipping into his slit, running along the underside of his cock while those sweet eyes look up at him.

“Fuck.”

“Mhm, then I’d flip you over and spread your cheeks, eat your ass until you’re begging and pleading again. Make you so desperate for my cock you would do anything to have your little hole fucked.”

How the fuck does he sound so composed? Is this his fucking job?

He doesn’t even wait for Satoru to respond before he keeps going, “Then I’d get you ready for me, tickle your prostate with three fingers until you come again and make a mess all over the sheets.”

“Ah,” he moans, a perfect picture in his head, lying on his stomach as his thick digits penetrate him, curling in deep and hitting that spot inside him with ease. 

“Yeah, then I would flip back over and put one of your legs over my shoulder, kiss your knee as I press my dick against your hole. I’d make you beg again until you’re desperate enough to cry before I start pushing slowly inside. I’d make you count every single inch until I'm balls deep.”

“How big is your dick?” Satoru asks, desperate and horny, his hand moving faster than it was before. Faster than it’s ever moved, actually. 

Suguru just laughs, like he’s enchanted by this entire chain of events. “Big enough to make your stomach bulge with one inch inside you. I promise you that.”

God. He’s close. Very fucking close. 

“I would fuck you hard and push in deep every time,” he goes on, voice steady and unfaltering, strong and confident like he knows exactly how Satoru likes it. “The headboard would hit the wall and your neighbors would hear you crying on my cock. They might even call your landlord and file a complaint from how noisy you’d be.”

Fuck , that’s so fucking—

“But I wouldn’t stop. Not unless you asked me to. It would feel so good though, you’d tell me to keep going”— I would, yes I fucking would —“to fuck you faster and harder until you come all over your abs. I’d pause to eat your cum and make sure you’re watching me do it. I’d tell you how good it tastes and how perfect you are before I start fucking you again.”

“Fuck, I’m—” He can barely take a full breath, can’t even think about doing anything but jerking himself off, disappointed that Suguru isn’t actually here to make good on his words and eat his cum like it’s his favorite meal. 

“You’re close, huh?” He can practically hear him smirking, his arrogance loud and proud. But he’s right. “You did say I have a way with words,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” Satoru practically growls, jerking himself faster, frantic. “Just keep going.”

Suguru obliges without another word. “I would put your other leg over my shoulder, fold you in half and keep fucking you, using your hole until I give you the biggest creampie.” If he could get a word in, he’d tell Suguru that he’s pretty flexible, that he wouldn’t even struggle to put him in any position, that he’s more than willing to take his cock in any convolated way he wants to give it to him. “I’d fill you up so much, cum would dribble out even when I'm still deep inside of you. I’d even take a picture, just to show you how cute your little hole would be dripping with cum wrapped around my dick.”

Some mix of obscenities, whines, whimpers and moans leaves Satoru’s mouth as he spills all over his hand, definitely the hardest he’s ever came. Hands down one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. 

Does he need to reevaluate his previous sex partners if someone over the phone made him come this hard?

He always thought phone sex was a sham, something people make up when they don’t have enough game to go after what they want, but he revokes that opinion now, mind absolutely blown. 

“Satoru? You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Satoru’s pants. Orgasm was so intense, he forgot to speak, god bless him.  

“Did that help?” he follows up with.

“Yes,” he answers sheepishly, looking at the mess he’s made. He’s going to need to take a shower and change his sheets, but he just feels so spent, too tired to move.

Suguru lets out a light chuckle. “Good. I’ll let you go now. Have a good night.” Ball is back in his court, but he might have been in control all along. Orchestrated this whole thing because he wanted to talk Satoru through it, wanted to hear the noises he would make. Ambitious to think, but he’s sticking with it.

“Good night,” he answers back. The call disconnects, and satoru just stares at the ceiling. Sticky and sweaty, he sits up, reaching for the tissues to clean himself up a bit. There’s so much cum, decorating his palm and his stomach, even dripping down to his inner thighs. 

Yeah, a few tissues definitely isn’t going to cut.

He’s wondering though… Where does this leave them?

Thinking is short lived as he hears a ping from his phone. Suguru, he’s guessing, hoping . He always sends another goodnight message after they hang up the phone, this shouldn’t be different just because he got him off. 

He opens it, eyes widening at what he sees, breath catching in his throat, nearly making him choke.

It's a picture. 

Of Suguru.

He’s everything Satoru thought and more. Stunning, magnificent, handsome—ah, he needs to get a thesaurus to find more words to describe him. Maybe he should have studied English for a moment like this, so he would have more words at his disposal to describe this god of a man. 

He wasn’t lying in the slightest, his eyes looking like warm, sweet chocolate that Satoru would eat in a heartbeat. And his skin that’s a bit darker than his own is absolutely flawless, not a blemish in sight. He's not exactly smiling, but his lips are twitched in a mischievous manner that still looks heartbreakingly handsome. If anything, he underplayed his own looks, trying to be humble when he absolutely doesn’t need to be. If he hadn’t already told Satoru he does system engineering, he would assume that he’s a model. 

Actually, he should quit his job and just grace the cover of magazines, do ads that make people spend copious amounts of money on shit they don’t need. Without a doubt, Satoru would be a victim to that kind of capitalism. 

Then it clicks, making his heart beat a little bit faster, his aching cock threatening to twitch to life as he stares at the photo again. 

This is the man that just got Satoru off. 

He’s lucky. Extremely so.

Suguru better not be doing this with anyone else. When it comes to internet safety, Satoru likes to respect people’s privacy, not poking into things where he isn’t wanted. Suguru, though, will get doxxed and have an irate Satoru at his front door if he even thinks about getting anyone else off after making him have the best orgasm of his life. Not a threat, a promise—a guarantee, just like the sun rising every morning and being overbearingly hot in the summer. 

Another message comes in. 

Use this anytime you need to take care of yourself

Oh, he surely fucking will. 

Even if they’re just friends.

So here’s the thing. 

Satoru can’t stop getting off to anything and everything about Suguru. 

Ever since that night where he (okay, maybe not so discreetly) tried getting off to his voice and was bestowed with assistance, he can’t stop.

Replaying his words, he found himself jerking it again that night—with his picture on the screen that time—even though he was so sore, it hurt. 

The pain was negligible compared to having the complete package, voice and looks to add to his fantasy. God, he could probably recite what he said word for word by now, insistent on keeping that memory alive. 

Well, it’s not like they haven’t had phone sex once, twice, three… okay, more times than he can count after that. It’s damn near a part of their nightly routine, playing until their eyes get tired, Suguru calmly speaking to him, saying things that would make a nun cry. 

It gets him every single time, tears springing from the corner of his eyes as his back arches off the bed, moaning into the receiver while Suguru asks if he’s close with a hint of laughter in his voice. The answer is always yes. Him just asking the question always ignites the raging lust in his gut. 

Yet, it’s not enough. Texting all day, playing and talking and coming all night isn’t enough. He needs those words to become a reality, needs Suguru to put him in scandalous positions as he pumps him full of cum.

If it could happen, he would need Suguru to get him pregnant, leaving every obstetrician in the country dumbfounded, seeking answers as to how he did that.

“So what?” Shoko asks, eyebrow raised, swirling her cup in her hand, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. “You’re going to ask him where he lives so he can fuck you?” 

“Well yes!” Satoru smiles, takes a sip of his mocktail. “I mean, he obviously wants to. Why shouldn’t I?”

She purses her lips, chugging some of her nasty beer.

“Ha!” he laughs, pointing at her, fingers just a little too close to her face as she swats it away. “You’re just mad because he’s actually hot. It’s like you wanted me to get catfished.”

“I’m not mad!” Shoko argues, voice going up higher than necessary, making some of the people in the bar give her a weird glance. She rolls her eyes, easily ignoring them. “It’s just… have you even had a video chat with him? How do you know—”

“I have,” he answers slyly, thinking of the first time he suggested a video call. It was approximately a week after their first time having phone sex, though he contemplated asking the next day. He almost broke his wrist with how hard he was jerking himself off, listening to his words, seeing the pretty shape of his lips move as he breathed out absolute obscenities. That was a great night. So excellent, he slept through his alarm the next morning, resulting in a very annoyed Yaga giving him a lecture about punctuality. “He’s real. And hot. And he wants me.” He sticks his tongue out, the pink muscle red from his drink. 

“I never said he didn’t, you just need to be careful,” she warns, concern flooding her eyes. “You can’t just show up at a random man's house. You don’t even know where he lives.”

“You show up at random women’s houses all the time?” he counters without even trying to be snarky. Her face sobers, concern gone, replaced with what seems to be annoyance. “And I know I don’t know, that’s why I have to ask.”

She’s stumped, downing the rest of her drink, aggressively summoning the waiter for the bill. “You better hope he lives somewhere you can get to.”

“I’ll walk to wherever he is if I have to,” he scoffs. “It’ll be worth it.”

She rolls her eyes so hard, Satoru has half a mind to tell her they might get stuck in her skull, but decides against it. He’s been treading all day and doesn't want to actually piss her off. Next thing he knows, she's smashing his phone and PC, leaving him without a way to speak to Suguru for hours. What a nightmare.

“Dickmitized and you haven’t even met the man yet.” She continues teasing him as they walk out of the restaurant, still going as they sit on the train next to each other before fully parting ways. If she were in his shoes, she would have asked him where he is a long time ago, fuck her judgement. 

So of course the first thing he does when he’s in the house is text Suguru, asking if he’s home yet. He gets a response immediately. It’s kind of funny really, how Suguru talks about his friends complaining he doesn’t answer them fast enough, yet he’s never waited more than five minutes. Pretty privilege, he guesses. 

His phone rings, and obviously he has to answer immediately. “Hey,” he greets, a smile in his voice.

“What’s up?” Suguru says at the same time.

This always happens, talking over each other when they first answer the phone. They laugh, Satoru settling down in his gaming chair, twirling around. 

Does he pose his question now, or wait until later tonight? The anticipation feels like a pot of acid boiling in his stomach, tearing away at his insides, making him desperate to leap over this hurdle now rather than later.

Right now. He needs to ask right now before he ends up blurting it out in the middle of a match and Suguru promptly curses him out for making them lose. 

“Question,” Satoru says. 

“I hope I have an answer for you,” Suguru replies with one of his signature little laughs.

“I was just wondering.” He isn’t as nervous as he thought he was, nerves coming to a stand still. In fact, he’s excited. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that Suguru will answer. “Where do you live?”

“In an apartment with my cat.”

“Okay,” he huffs. Leave it to Suguru to be a smartass anytime humanly possible. “And what is the location of this apartment that you live in with your cat?”

“Aw,” he coos. “What? You want to send me a package or something?”

No, I want to show up to your place in nothing but a trench coat and a bow wrapped around my neck and let you ravish my body anyway you see fit. 

“Something like that,” he answers quickly. Something is wrong with him, the mere thought of Suguru fucking him making him chub up in his jeans. He palms at his crotch, trying to calm down. This is for later, he can wait a few hours.

“Hm, you should send me a new controller. I feel like you have good taste.”

Never mind, he’s already too horny to try and act like this is funny. “I live in Tokyo.” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat as he paws at his crotch again.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he nearly grumbles. “So now you should tell me where you live.”

Suguru clucks his tongue, humming. There’s a slight pause, like he wants to build the suspense. “Osaka.”

The phone almost falls from his hand in shock at the news that his online friend… actually, are they just friends? Something more, maybe? Who knows. The point is, he’s just a few hours away and there’s no reason for him not to take advantage of that. 

“Oh!” Ask casually, be calm about it. Don’t sound like you’ve been dreaming about a dick in your ass for weeks. Not just any dick, his dick that he claims to be big enough to protrude from his skin. “I didn’t know you lived in Japan! Isn’t that just lucky?”

“It would be even luckier if I got the chance to meet you.”

Don’t sound like you want to jump through the phone, don’t hang up and start looking at train tickets, and don’t ask for his address and the soonest date he can come see him. 

“What’s your address?” he blurts out. Well, he tried. Excitement and enthusiasm are nothing to be ashamed about. Look at who he’s talking to, who he’s actually going to be able to meet in the flesh with his luscious hair and muscled glory. 

“Are you going to take me out to dinner first at least?”

He would buy him an entire restaurant if he so desired, collect every shell on the beach, count every single grain of rice in a ten pound bag. 

Desperate might be the word to use… and he’s fine with that. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” he responds.

“Hm,” he hums. He imagines him tapping his chin with his finger, a look of contemplation on his face. “Should I come to you? Or do you want to come to me?”

Fuck, that’s like asking if he wants dessert before or after dinner, if he wants to goof off on the clock or do it at home. Both , he wants both. 

“I don’t have a problem coming to you.” 

“I don’t work on the weekends, if you want to come on Saturday?” he offers. “Even Friday night, if that works for you.” Either his imagination is extremely vivid, or he’s thinking with his dick because he swears his voice just went down on octave, sultry and suggestive. 

“I’ll be there,” he answers, keyboard mashing to unlock his PC, already pulling up the site to get a ticket. Flying might be better, actually. Faster, more comfortable. Hell, he’s going to take Friday off actually because why would he want to work before what may just be the best day of his life?

Shave, he needs to shave. Or he needs to get back in touch with his wax lady. She wasn’t quite happy the last time he squirmed on the table, almost kicked her in the face… but this is important. He’ll even pay extra. 

“Satoru?” Suguru laughs. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“My address. I just gave it to you.” 

“Of course I heard you. Just repeat it so I can make sure I got it right.”

“You’re full of shit,” he chuckles, but repeats it anyway, Satoru listening with diligent ears this time around. He even asks him to repeat it one more time, writing it as legibly as he can.

“Okay, what do you want to play today?”

Oh yeah, they haven’t played a single thing yet, but like, can Suguru be serious for a minute? They’re going to be meeting in ninety-six hours and he’s worrying about a fucking game. 

He goes along with it through, settling on a game even though his mind is somewhere completely different, thinking about the way he will be ravished in just a couple of days. 

It’s easier to focus when they put down their controllers and he’s touching himself, listening to Suguru’s words. He might have come even harder this time, gasping for breath by the time he’s made a mess all over himself, sweaty back sticking to his chair.

“So I’ll see you on Friday?” Suguru asks. 

“Yes, you will.”

The next couple of days are far too boring and far too long to be at all enjoyable. It’s not even fun trying to rub it in Shoko’s face that he’s going to meet—and get fucked by—his super hot internet friend.

Flight is bought, bags are packed (because Suguru said it’s fine for him to stay the weekend) and he’s tripled checked that his ID hasn’t spontaneously grown legs and scurried off somewhere the night before he’s set to leave. 

“I’m really excited to see you.” They’re on a video call, already having finished playing for the night, Suguru’s smiling face filling his obnoxiously large PC screen. “I don’t know, it feels like this should have happened already.”

“Long overdue,” Satoru agrees, squirming in his seat. 

“You know I was joking about the dinner thing, right?” His expression momentarily sobers, his eyes soft and sweet. Truth be told, he’s never seen them filled with malice, not even when they’re in a match and things aren’t going the way he expected. It’s like staying calm is just a part of his being, a body of water intending to get boats afloat and get them to their destinations safely. “Everything will be on me.”

“You trying to call me broke?” Satoru jokes with an eyebrow raised, coming a little closer to the screen.

“I’m calling you spoiled,” Suguru laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t think I forgot how we met, you fucking scammer.”

Satoru backs away from the screen, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water as he searches for words to say. It’s been so many months since they initially met—shit, it may be nearing their friendship anniversary—he already forgot about all the false pretenses. Not like he even talks to any of those guys he used to play with anymore, all of them gray, faceless figures that he will keep in the past. Truthfully though, he hadn’t bothered to remember many of their names, they were truly never a part of his present. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t caught off guard though, mouth still opening and closing, searching for something to refute the not so baseless accusation of him being a scammer. “Those guys wanted to buy me things! No one was ever scammed,” he defends, crossing his arm over his chest. “Let’s not forget you let me think you were a girl.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suguru laughs, and man, he’s going to get to hear that laugh in person for three days. It’s like bottled sunshine, bright and infectious, making a chuckle bubble out of Satoru too. “All I did was play the game with an avatar I like. Your assumptions have nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you!” he argues, nostrils flaring. “You don’t even have your pronouns in your bio. How was I supposed to know?”

“Whatever.” Suguru playfully scoffs, not truly annoyed. Without warning, he takes off his shirt, making Satoru more alert, sitting up straighter. “Ready to stop making excuses and let me get you off?”

Satoru gets his dick out of his boxers without another word.

Knowing in just a few more minutes, he’s going to be face to face with Suguru, has Satoru’s stomach doing flips. Shoko asked him repeatedly if he was nervous when she dropped him off at the airport, questioned if he changed his mind and wanted to postpone this meeting, but the answers to both of her questions was a polite no. 

Why would he have any sense of doubt? Suguru is practically his best friend… who also happens to be extremely attractive. Their chemistry over the phone is too explosive for him to believe anything will be less than perfect meeting for the first time. 

Then of course, Shoko being the supreme hater she is, had to fill his head with horror stories of people realizing they have no spark in person. Even worse, she decided to turn into a true crime reporter with what he’s sure were made up statistics about people who go missing or wind up dead after meeting people for the first time. 

As if someone he doesn’t already know can’t do the same exact thing. God forbid he be happy for once. 

Hiking his duffel bag securely on his shoulder, he puts some pep in his step as he makes his way to the arrival gate, bypassing people pushing strollers and those with more luggage than two hands can handle. He was somewhere to be. 

It feels like he’s working up a sweat, making turn after turn before he walks down a hallway and he finally sees him. 

Jeans have never looked better on anyone, light distresses in the knees, some casual red and black sneakers on his feet. A black polo stretches across his chest, perfectly taut, bringing attention to his muscled arms. His bangs frame his face perfectly, half of his hair gathered in a bun while the rest flows freely down his hand. 

And he better remember this moment the next time he tries to call Satoru corner, because he’s holding a piece of paper in his hands with GOJO scrawled messily across it. 

Satoru doesn't hesitate to run, stopping in front of him with a huge smile on his face. Something is a little bit off, Satoru having a minuscule bit of height over him, but that doesn’t matter at all.

”Are you Mr. Gojo by any chance?” he asks, trying to be serious but failing, the corners of his lips twitching up in a way that makes Satoru just want to kiss him until they're both out of breath. 

“Only if you’re Mr. Geto,” Satoru answers, unable to contain his own excitement as he bounces on the heels of his feet. Based on how he’s feeling right now, he knows the apples of his cheeks are going to be sore by the time he leaves from just how much he’s smiling. 

Resting the sign on the ground, Suguru takes a small step toward him so the tips of their shoes are touching, gripping either side of his arms firmly. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he says through a breath of laughter, shaking his head as his eyes trail up and down, from the top of his head to his feet. “I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Here in the flesh.” Satoru takes a better look at him too, a light emanating from around him that just makes him seem like the most important person in this airport. His V-neck of his polo is deep enough for him to see a peek of his pecs. If he looks close enough, he could probably see some of the raised flesh from his infamous scar. Better if he just focuses on his face for now, wouldn’t want to stiff up too many lust feelings in the middle of a bunch of people reuniting with their loves and families. 

“I can take your bag?” Suguru offers after another solid minute of staring, awkwardly holding out his hand. 

“Why are you acting like you don’t know me all of a sudden?” Satoru scoffs. He’s definitely capable of holding his own bag, and he for sure isn’t stepping foot out of this airport until he gets some more contact. “Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

A gleam of amusement flashes in Suguru’s eyes before he hooks a finger through one of the belt loops on Satoru’s jeans, bringing him in closer. Satoru wraps his free arm around Suguru’s neck, feeling like everything is going according to plan now. This just feels so right. Yes, Suguru’s arm rightful place is around his waist and anyone who says otherwise should be stoned for being incorrect.

Content, he pulls away with a sigh after breathing in some of his scent (in a way that isn’t creepy at all, of course, just appreciative). Suguru takes it upon himself to take his bag anyway, opting to lace their fingers together for the short walk to the parking lot, making Satoru feel like he’s walking on air. He would take a picture of this moment just to rub it in Shoko’s face if he didn’t care so much about soaking in the moment. 

Suguru drops his hand to open the passenger door of a shiny black, Toyota, ushering him inside. He gives him a polite smile, already missing the warmth of his palm, the secureness of his touch. Lucky for Satoru, he looked up Suguru’s address when he gave it to him, and he doesn’t live too far from the airport. Only about twenty minutes, maybe fifteen if there isn’t any bothersome traffic. 

“Are you hungry?” Suguru asks as he clicks his seatbelt in place, bringing the ignition to life next.

Hungry for that dick, Satoru wants to say. He doesn’t though, trying to come off as rational as possible, shaking his head as he playfully taps his hand over his stomach. “Ate before the flight. I’m okay.”

“Need to pick up snacks or anything?” he asks next, carefully navigating out of the parking lot and out onto the streets of Osaka. He’s been here a couple of times before, but not for a reason as remarkable as meeting someone who has definitely enhanced his life. A hand comes down on his thigh, burning him through the layer of denim, thumb rubbing calming circles against the fabric. Doesn’t help his brain that’s beginning to short circuit, only one thing on his mind.

“No,” Satoru answers, short and tight, trying not to squirm in his seat. “I’m good right now, but thanks.”

Suguru gives his thigh a squeeze and offers the Bluetooth—which Satoru also denies because he has too much dick on his mind to even think about scrolling through his library, let alone choose a song. Just his luck too that there’s bumper to bumper traffic, holding them hostage for nearly an hour until it clears up and Satoru can actually see a couple of inches in front of them. 

It takes everything in him not to run out of the car when Suguru finally rolls to an easy stop in front of a small complex on a rather quiet block. There doesn’t seem to be any tourists around—which is great, he hates standing behind people that don’t understand what the cashier at FamilyMart is saying. On the flip side, that means it’s probably silent at night and he should have brought up booking a love hotel for the activities that certainly will be occurring tonight. 

Unless he just doesn’t care, that works fine too.

Such a gentleman, Suguru taking his bag and still jogging up the few steps to the front door to open the door for his guest. “Welcome to your home for the weekend.”

Slipping off his shoes, Satoru gives him a small nod as he wanders inside, staring at the walls in wonder like he’s actually at a museum. Along the walls are a couple of photos, some of Suguru, some of who he knows to be his little sisters, and some look like friends from either high school or university. Possibly both. 

In the far corner of the room are a couple of cat accessories—a litter box, a tower, a plain cardboard box that his cat probably finds more entertaining than their actual toys. It’s a cute little place, but Satoru wouldn’t even care if his dwelling for the weekend was a bundle of sticks with a sheet draped over it. 

“The couch pulls out,” Suguru says after closing the door behind him. He takes off his shoes and stands just behind Satoru in the center of the living room. “You can sleep there… but I was going to offer my bed.” He shrugs, but Satoru is positive he would be able to poke a hole through the nonchalance he’s trying to convey. He doesn’t miss the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other, the way his Adam’s apple bobs sharply when he swallows. “It’s a lot more comfy.”

Did he really think Satoru was going to be sleeping anywhere but nestled in the security of his arms? It would have been a rude awakening for sure, but at least the offer is formerly on the table now, a glistening, golden opportunity for Satoru to grab. 

“Your bed sounds nice,” he responds with a smile, clasping his hands together. “It always looks comfy on cam.”

The highest points of Suguru’s cheeks burn red as he shifts his attention away, something on the wall captivating him before he’s able to maintain eye contact with him again. “Do you need anything from your bag right now? I was going to put it down in my room.”

“I don’t need anything, thank you.” Satoru smiles again and takes a seat on the couch when Suguru disappears down the hall to what he assumes is his room. Their room for the weekend. Just the thought of something as intimate as a living space, even if it’s just a few days, being shared between them makes him shiver with excitement, white hairs on his body rising and tingling. 

Wiping his palms on his jeans, he calms himself down. 

It can’t really be helped though. Of course he’s bursting with excitement knowing he’s in Suguru’s house. This time last year he was on the hunt for another victim— er… friendly person with financial stability willing to share their wealth with him, he means. The point is, acting like he hasn’t been counting down the seconds until today is extremely difficult. 

Suguru returns, sitting down next to Satoru on the couch, caressing his thigh with his palm again. Only this time, he sees the shaky movement of his wrist, like he isn’t sure if he’s doing the right thing. 

To assure him, Satoru puts his hand over Suguru’s own, feeling him steady beneath him. Good, he definitely doesn’t want either of them being unsure right now. 

“Sure you don’t want anything right now?” Suguru questions. “I want you to feel at home. I’ll pick up whatever you want.”

“I’m sure,” Satoru almost deadpans, though he’s pretty sure he does feel his eye twitch. 

“Not even some melon sodas?” he questions with genuine concern, a knot forming between his brows. “I only really have water and tea here.”

“Do you think I’m going to melt if I come in contact with water?” Satoru actually deadpans this time, nudging one of his broad shoulders 

“Judging by the way you eat, I can’t be too sure…” he jokes, shit eating grin growing with each word. 

At least some of his unease seems to have ebbed away. That only makes Satoru more excited, willing to brush off his attempt at a jab by squeezing the hand over his even tighter. This little banter has been fun, but it’s time to get down to business. 

They have very important things to do. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Suguru asks, reaching for the remote sitting on the coffee table in front of them. “I have Netflix, Hulu…” 

Only, maybe Satoru is the only one with a sense of urgency that has his entire body on high alert. Suguru doesn’t seem to understand just how important this moment is, continuing to rub and squeeze his thigh in an uncommitted fashion, eyes far off and interested in something else again. 

In this situation, there’s only one thing he can do.  

“Are we gonna fuck or what?”

Bold, he knows. With the way Suguru’s eyes slowly widen and the grip on his thigh loosens, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Suguru is in a state of shock. Satoru doesn’t falter, standing on what he said, maintaining eye contact with Suguru—who still appears to be reeling all this in, but seems to be on board. 

“Yes.” Suguru nods, regaining his grip, fingers making meaningful movement when it curls against his denim clad thigh. “I mean, I want to,” he confirms with an even more vigorous nod of his head. “It was definitely part of the plan. It just was going to be a little later when—”

“We should do it now,” Satoru interrupts, unwilling to sit here for another minute and act like his hole isn’t already twitching and aching to be filled. Not a chance he can deceive himself into thinking he didn’t come here for this.

“Yes.”

That’s all it takes for Suguru to absolutely ambush him, next to him one second and on top of him the next, looking down into his eyes before pressing their lips together.

It’s anything but sweet, nowhere near being soft. Nothing about this describes how a first kiss with someone should go. 

This is carnal and aggressive, a vicious desire to dig their teeth into each other's flesh and absolutely tear each other apart. Noses bump, teeth knock, and Satoru wouldn’t have it any other way, already moaning against Suguru’s lips when his tongue demands entrance into his mouth. He doesn’t even wait, letting his tongue glide against Satoru’s own, licking along the smooth lining of his cheek. 

He needed this at the airport, wanted this in the car before Suguru even bothered to put the key in the ignition. Better late than never, but a wise man once said never late is better. Next time, he’ll let it be known their bodies can talk first, and their mouth can speak second. 

“Bedroom,” Suguru pants above him, pupils dilated, face flushed down to his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Wait.” Suguru’s brow furrows, but he leaves the floor open for Satoru to do as he pleases. See, Satoru has a plan, one that Suguru should be aware of and follow. He’s the one that wrote the script, after all.  

He stands, ignoring the growing tent in his jeans, extending his arms and waiting for his… friend to get the memo. All he gets is a confused glance, brows furrowing further as Suguru slowly rises to his feet as well. 

“Uh.” He blinks, hand awkwardly landing on the back of his neck. “Did you want to show me something?”

“No,” Satoru scoffs, dramatically rolling his eyes. A hand lands on his hip, foot tapping against the hard floor, waiting for Suguru to catch on with what he wants. It seems he’s being too vague, the lightbulb he was hoping would brighten with realization above Suguru’s head staying gray and unlit. “Undress me.”

Delayed for a few seconds, but caught up nonetheless, Suguru chuckles and stands behind Satoru, pressing his own growing bulge against the cleft of his ass as his hands land on his pecs, squeezing through the material of the shirt he has on. This is more like it, why he’s here. Maybe even one of his sole purposes in this little game called life, being an outlet for whatever Suguru’s hands desires. 

No sense in stifling any moans, throwing his head back, some of his white locks tickling the skin of Suguru’s neck as he lets out a sigh. “Oh,” Suguru snickers, hands moving to the first button, undoing it slowly before moving down to the next one. “Are you saying you wore this shirt for me?” he mumbles in his ear, continuing to work his way down.

“And if I did?”

Suguru doesn’t answer for a moment, just continues to take off his shirt like it’s his job, lips pressing against the sensitive nape of his neck until every button is undone. “I’d say how sweet of you.” He helps him shimmy out of the shirt, bare chest getting hit with the cool air from the ceiling fan above them. 

Anticipating his next move, Satoru’s hips are already thrusting into the air, muscles quivering beneath his touch, fondling his happy trail with an index finger before undoing the button of his jeans. “Didn’t you say I would be hard from just thinking about you?” Satoru teases as his jeans are being pulled down slowly, eventually falling until they’re bunched up around his ankles.

A hand palms him, hot and heavy, applying just enough pressure to make him wince where he stands. “Aren’t you?” Suguru laughs, using his foot to nudge Satoru’s foot. “Step out of these.”

Satoru does, even with his next rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, ready to slip free. “You’re hard too, though,” he observes, almost completely naked from the waist down. “Doesn’t that mean you were hard just thinking about me too?”

“Obviously,” Suguru scoffs as he rubs over Satoru’s clothes erection. A lot like his kissing from earlier, it’s not exactly rhythmic—a bit uncoordinated and rough, but it doesn’t feel any less good. Hips thrusting into his hand, he’s only thinking of what’s next, his warm mouth all over him, his cock tearing him in two. “Now let’s get these off.”

It isn’t until Satoru is twitching and making a mess inside his briefs does Suguru provide him with any relief, a thumb digging into the waistband and tugging down. He promptly steps out of them, kicking them to the side with his pants. Cock slapping against his stomach, some precum stains his skin. That sticky feeling is easy to ignore when Suguru is planting more kisses along his neck while leading him into the bedroom. 

The cat—whose name he can’t remember at the moment with more important things afoot—scurries out of the bedroom when the door is pushed open. He’ll be sure to greet the furball once they finish up here. 

“On the bed,” Suguru instructs. 

He doesn’t need to be asked twice, ass immediately planting on the bed, watching Suguru pull his shirt over his head as he crawls between his legs. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get enough time to admire the view with Suguru’s mouth wrapping around his cock without warning. 

“Fuck,” Satoru hisses as he’s being stared at through dark lashes, balls cradled. 

Unlike the kissing and fondling, there’s a degree of carefulness here, Suguru’s tongue slowly licking the underside from the base to the tip, making him shiver as the barbell stabbing through his tongue drags along his shaft, before sucking the head into his mouth. It’s driving Satoru insane, pressure already building up in his stomach and threatening to explode any second now. 

Knowing what’s to come, he doesn’t care, willing to be teased later for blowing his load so quickly. Must be a record for him, being sucked off for less than five minutes before blowing his load down the other’s throat. 

Suguru clearly doesn’t mind, devilishly licking his lips as he pinches the skin of one of his thighs, making Satoru jolt. “What was that for!”

“That didn’t hurt,” Suguru dismisses, pinching his other thigh. “Now turn over.”

Of course he turns over like a dog looking for a treat, a hand coming down on one of his cheeks hard enough to for sure leave a mark in its wake. He doesn’t even have time to make a sound of surprise when he feels himself being spread and a glob of spit is running down the crack of his ass. It’s warm, but nothing like the searing heat of his tongue lapping against his hole.

“Suguru.” Satoru inhales sharply as his piercing dips into his hole, prodding him way too shallowly. Fingernails dig into the flesh of his ass, keeping him in place as his feverish tongue continues wreaking havoc, making an absolute mess of Satoru.

Shamelessly—and if he does have shame, Satoru sure isn’t able to tell—he moans against his skin as the pointed tip of his nose sends another wave of goosebumps up his spine. He’s sure blisters are bubbling on his skin from the intensity and heat of it all, but he doesn’t care. Impossible to have any other thoughts with his tongue wedged between his cheeks.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Suguru murmurs between flicks of his tongue. “Ever since I heard you moan on the phone.” Another lick across his taint that has Satoru’s back arching. “Wanted to know if you’d make those same sounds when I got my hands on you.” He licks again, like he can’t get enough, like he would feast on Satoru for all of eternity if it were at all sustainable. “I think I’m doing pretty good.”

“You’re doing great,” Satoru wheezes as he keeps going and going and going . His tongue must be battery operated the way he hasn’t stopped, the way it seems like he doesn’t plan to either. 

As nice as this is, Satoru truly being able to imagine twenty-four hours of just this, he wants more. Needs more, that promise of being folded in half just within his reach.  

Some kind of mysterious telepathy is afoot, Suguru pressing a kiss to his hole that’s sopping wet with spit. Flipping him over, he mounts him, some of his hair dangling over his face while Suguru uses a hand to undo the button of his jeans.

Why are his jeans still on anyway…

 “I need to fuck you,” Suguru says simply, like he’s reciting his grocery list. He tosses the jeans to the side without another glance. “I need to fuck you so bad.”

“Then hurry up and get the lube,” Satoru urges, sitting up slightly on his elbows. “Unless your dick is so small I won’t need any prep.”

Laughing through his nose, Suguru just shakes his head, grabbing the lube from the nightstand. Flipping the cap open, he lathers three fingers and starts with one, meeting only a little bit of resistance when he pushes in to the knuckle. 

Doesn’t take Satoru long to adjust around him, a second finger sliding into him to stretch him open. Suguru bites his lip as he looks down at Satoru’s reddened face, squeezing more lube onto his fingers before adding a third. It makes Satoru hiss, being so accustomed to the feel of his own fingers for so long.

“Don’t tell me you wanted me to fuck you and you can’t even handle my fingers,” Suguru taunts, a wicked flash dancing in his eyes. “We can work our way up, I guess.”

Oh, he’s so lucky he isn’t wearing a shirt right now. He'd grab the collar without a second thought, pulling him close so they're face to face and tell him that there isn’t a single thing he can’t do. 

So he goes for the next big thing, yanking him closer, watching the teasing expression leave his face as he realizes Satoru has a fist full of his hair. Suguru winces, eyes darting between the hand gripping his tresses and his forearm keeping him upright. Looks like he’s trying to decide if letting his entire body weight fall on top of Satoru is worth it to free himself. Kind of funny how he doesn’t just… take his fingers out of his ass, but maybe that’s not very logical to him. 

“I can handle your dick,” Satoru affirms. 

“You can let go,” Suguru smirks, plunging his fingers deeper, curling against his prostate. It catches Satoru off guard, gasping as his eyes shut, body feeling like it’s vibrating. He usually works his way up to this point, the sudden pleasure making him fear he’ll come on the spot. “I believe you,” he coos, massaging that sensitive spot, leaving Satoru squirming and caged beneath him. 

“Fuck me,” Satoru demands with narrowed eyes.

“Hm,” Suguru hums, playfully letting his tongue ring poke out of his mouth. “Ask me nicely.”

“ Fuck me, ” Satoru repeats, a little more bite in his voice. 

“That doesn’t sound like asking me nicely…” 

“Suguru!” Satoru huffs, pent up and impatient, a lit firecracker that is waiting to finally combust. He just shrugs, flashing the fakest pout Satoru has ever seen on anyone, fingers leaving him. “Fine, please fuck me.” Just because he gave in, doesn’t mean he needs to be all sunshine and rainbows, annoyance further justified when Suguru sits up and laughs as he takes his boxers completely off.

It happens before he has time to process it all; Suguru at the edge of the bed one moment and in between his legs the next. His heart thumps fiercely against his chest, his dream playing right in front of him. A kiss pressed to his knee, legs gripped and propped over a strong shoulder. Picture perfect.

Sucking in a breath, he prepares himself for what’s to come, Suguru’s leaking cock inching closer and closer to his hole. It makes him clench, heave, uncaring if he isn’t even prepped enough for this.

The only way for him to know if he needs more prep is if he tries, right?

Except, Suguru doesn’t seem to care that he’s been dreaming about this for weeks, keeping the tip pressed against his rim, refusing to breach him as he leans toward his face, an evil grin in place of any of the expressions he knows. 

“Come on,” Satoru groans. 

“I know, I know,” Suguru hums, that same grin still plastered to his face. “Fuck you, right?”

“It’s what we both want,” Satoru responds confidently, attempting to swivel his hips to get him inside. “The fuck are you waiting for?”

Satoru feels it before it comes, the punchline that Suguru was waiting to unleash on him: “I want you to beg.”

Ah, he did say he was going to make Satoru do that, right? “You were supposed to have me crying already,” Satoru counters, trying to angle his hips to just the right spot again, but Suguru isn’t giving him an ounce of leverage. “I’m supposed to beg when you can’t even hold up your half of the deal?”

Suguru laughs, and Satoru wishes he could find humor in this situation too. With a hard cock trembling against his willing hole refusing to fuck him, there’s nothing for him to find funny. At all.

“Ah. I guess I counted you barely being able to say my name counted as crying.” He grins, like he was waiting to say this. “My bad.”

“Fuck you,” Satoru spits. Suguru just laughs again, his cock twitching. “ You said you need to fuck me.”

Contemplation flickers over his face, but Suguru is easily swayed, positioning himself to finally fuck Satoru for the first time. They both seem to be holding their breaths, eyes focused on his shaft starting to disappear inside of him. “You’re right,” Suguru rasps, jaw clenched tight. “I fucking needed this.”

He can’t even tease him because he’s positive he’s needed this too. 

This is unlike anything he’s felt before, this intense pressure between his legs that’s taking a moment to dissolve into pleasure. It’s like someone forcing a brick between his thighs and telling him to keep it there despite the discomfort. 

“Wait,” Suguru mumbles, grabbing a pillow and slotting under Satoru's hips, the new elevation and angle a perfect combination. “Better?”

“Much.” Satoru nods, looking down again.

Another thing he wasn’t lying about—there really is a bulge, bulbous and thick throbbing right under his happy trail. It doesn’t even look human, but he can’t bring himself to feel any sort of concern. 

If his big ass dick really does fuck up his insides, so what? He has a great doctor, he’ll be more than okay. 

“Wait!” Satoru is the one to say it this time, loud enough to make Suguru’s eyes widen, his shock obvious. 

“What's wrong?”

“Didn’t you say you were going to make me count every inch?” The shock and concern on his face leaves, and maybe he should have known better than to think there was an actual problem right now. “All you’ve been doing is moaning and groaning…”

“Yeah, because I have a fucking ruler with me.” Suguru rolls his eyes, giving Satoru’s knee a slap, the skin instantly flushing red like a drop of blood in the water. 

“It’s your dick,” Satoru argues—and Suguru must be a fan of bickering and chaos, because his dick definitely throbs inside him, making his body quake. “You should know it inch by inch without a ruler.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Well, I am.”

“You know every inch of your dick then?”

“Yes,” Satoru blatantly lies. Suguru must know he’s full of shit, but plays along anyway, thoughtfully nodding his head. “And you should be ashamed for leading me astray.”

“You’re right.” It’s there again, that cynical grin that makes the white hairs on his neck stand, on high alert, unsure of what’s going to come out of his mouth next. “Consider this an apology.”

Heartbeat rising, he watches his strong hands grip his waist. He presses another soft kiss to his lips, something quick and sweet. 

Then he buries himself inside Satoru in one, quick thrust. 

“One, two, three,” he starts counting in his ear as he tries to find his breath. “Four, five, six.” His warm tongue traces along the shell of his ear, dipping into the canal. Definitely doesn’t help with the whole trying to catch his breath thing. “Seven, eight, nine. There, all counted.”

“Fuck you.”

It’s melodic, the sound of his laughter even if it’s at his expense.

“All because I did what you asked,” Suguru chuckles, slowly pulling his hips back before thrusting back inside, gracing Satoru with a few, shallow strokes to get him well adjusted. “Feel so good around me.”

“You feel even better in me,” Satoru manages to say, looking down again, memorized by the outline of Suguru’s cock shifting and growing inside of him. His arms wrap around his neck, wanting him even closer, wanting to feel his hot breath hitting his lips as the heat continues to build in his belly. 

The composure Suguru had a few moments ago starts to diminish, something more animalistic taking over as his hips start to move faster, pushing in deep as tears prickle from the side of Satoru’s blue eyes. He wonders how he looks right now, if he’s a blazing shade of red with degeneracy swimming in the pools of his eyes. 

He hopes so. He doesn't want to look recognizable. Doesn’t want to leave here being the same person he once was. 

For a moment, he’s looking in a mirror, seeing the tears springing from the side of Suguru’s sweet eyes, watching a flush sprout from the middle of his chest up to his face, blooming across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

From the moment on, he knows he can never be beneath anyone else in good faith. There’s no one else that will be able to fill him up with a cocky smirk plastered to their face, no one else that will put up with his antics and have some of their own in turn.

When Suguru smothers his face into the crook of his neck and lets his teeth sink into his flesh, he knows he’s marked for a lifetime. Blood may actually be draining from his body, Suguru could be a demon feasting on him at this very moment, but neither of those things matters. All that really counts is this bond they have cemented, this combination of tears and sweat bringing them the finish line.

“More,” Satoru demands. Even though his legs are already trembling, his own dick hard and useless leaving a sticky mess against Suguru’s stomach.

“I’m already balls deep inside you,” Suguru huffs, readjusting to lift Satoru’s other leg over his shoulder. And guess what? It’s a great look on him, strong hands wrapped around his ankle, the magnificent view of his sexy chest right in front of his eyes. A dream, really. “What am I supposed to do? Grow three more inches of dick?”

“Figure it out,” is all Satoru says.

“You’re ridiculous.”

And Satoru is fine with being ridiculous as long as he keeps getting fucked like this—on the cusp of being able to take a full breath, being pounded within an inch of his life, uncontrollably whimpering and moaning until his foggy brain is able to relay to his mouth actual words.

“Satoru,” Suguru pants against his lips as he folds him like a lawnchair, the heels of his feet helplessly banging against Suguru’s back. Unbothered, he continues thrusting, using Satoru’s hole like he owns it. Reaching for a hand, Suguru laces their fingers together, squeezing tight as he keeps going, signaling Satoru’s very demise. “Knew you’d sound just as pretty in person,” he moans. “I can tell you're close, just from listening to you all this time. So come for me.”

Who would Satoru be if he didn't listen? His legs jerk, body spasming as he holds on to Suguru even tighter, cock spurting out a stream of cum between their sandwiched bodies.

“Don’t stop yet.” Satoru knows himself, feels that his cock is still hard. It’s going to ache, but he can come again, wants to make even more of a mess with Suguru still deep inside of him.

“Didn’t I tell you that you wouldn’t want me to?” The aura of cockiness in his voice isn’t as strong this time, more like he’s just putting on an act, thrusts slowing down. “Gonna fill you up so much.”

Day turns into night beyond the curtains, the picturesque blue sky shifting into a melting pot of pinks and yellow, and Suguru is still going.

Or… he came for the first time hours ago with Satoru’s teeth digging into the muscled meat of his shoulder and they decided they needed to fuck again.

And again.

And then just one more time for good measure. Just in case. 

Satoru, bruised and bitten (though Suguru isn’t looking much better) with cum dripping out of his ass and sticking to his skin, is happy. 

“Hungry?” Suguru laughs as a head of white hair lays on his chest.

“I’m full.”

Satoru’s back met the mattress more times than food entered his mouth this weekend. 

Entirely not his fault and one hundred percent out of his control. 

Whenever Suguru looked over at him with those smoldering eyes, smiled at him in that endearing way, and made him feel like the only man in the world, he really had no choice but to smother him with kisses and demand to be fucked. 

Anyone in his position would do the same. 

Unlike his arrival, he isn’t brimming with excitement or splitting at the seams at being with Suguru. He already feels darkness spilling inside him at the prospect of leaving, being separated by kilometers of distance again. 

It leaves him quiet, staring out the window as the city passes by on the drive back to the airport. 

Hilarious really, that Suguru was telling him they would eat up and down the streets of Dotonbori and stroll through Den Den town. They were going to play hours in person and ended up just eating take out and fucking the entire time. 

If he closes his eyes, he still feels Suguru on top of him, his sweat dripping onto Satoru’s face as he grinds against his prostate; can feel his hands on his waist, pulling him onto his cock with increasing vigor. 

How does he go back home with a smile knowing what he’s leaving behind?

Suguru has to get his attention by snapping in front of his face when he finds a parking space, his own face painted with a somber expression. 

This is a doomsday countdown, T-minus two hours until Satoru’s happiness shrivels up and disappears into a deep cavern, never to be seen again. 

Suguru holds open the door for him, and his steps are slow as he gets closer and closer to the point where he knows they will be parting ways. It’s unfair. They should be able to teleport to each other’s place every night because it’s what they deserve. 

“Hey.” Suguru has Satoru’s duffel bag on his shoulder, his other hand stuffed awkwardly in his pocket. “Have you ever done this before?”

What? Get the best dick of my life and then be forced to go home?

“What do you mean?” he responds. 

“You know.” Suguru shrugs, eyes looking down at the ground before they land on his face again. “Been in a long distance relationship.”

So many things he wants to say, like the word relationship has never even been something tangible for him. It’s never been something he’s seriously considered for himself, one of those things that just exist to make everyone else have some sense of fulfillment. 

And is Suguru saying they’re currently in a long distance relationship? He wouldn’t mind that one bit. It makes something inside of him warm, humming pleasantly beneath his skin. 

“I haven’t,” he answers honestly. “… have you?”

“Nope,” he replies, taking a step forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “So I guess we’ll just figure things out as we go?”

So they are dating. 

Satoru has never been a boyfriend before, never thought someone would want to pledge their time and dedication to him, but it feels like he just won the lottery. 

Dating Suguru officially he certainly is coming back a changed man. 

Maybe not too different since he’s definitely going to rub this in Shoko’s face and her an excruciating detail rundown of every sicker thing they did this weekend—including when Suguru sniffed, licked, and fucked his armpit. 

“We will.” And the day seems just a bit brighter now as he purses his lips and goes in for another kiss, needing to feel the smoothness of the barbell scraping against his teeth and mouth one more time. 

“Next time, I’ll come to you,” Suguru says against his lips. 

That’s all Satoru needs to hear to make the flight bearable, fingers twitching, feeling restless. He needs to talk to his boyfriend. 

Shoko probably regrets offering to pick him up right now since his eyes have been glued to his screen the paper his connection was restored, waiting for Suguru to answer. 

“So how was the visit?” she asks once they’re in the car. “You answered like what? Three of my texts?”

“Uh huh,” he answers absentmindedly. 

“I had half a mind to come with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, paying her no real mind. 

“You said you’ll let me max out your credit card to get a new wardrobe, right?”

“Yeah, mhm.” Wait. He looks only to see she’s already staring at him with an incredibly bored look on her face. “I didn’t”—

His phone rings, his entire face lighting up when Suguru’s contact picture—that he took himself— fills his screen. “Hi,” Satoru sings. 

“I need to know,” he opens with. “Do you have plans next weekend?”

Well, he does now.