Chapter Text
It's surrounded by the soft drizzle of rain and fresh breeze that Satoru’s thoughts turn to punishment.
Everything good he has ever had in his life has been taken from him. Sometimes, he wonders if perhaps he committed some unforgivable sin in his past life to live with such a sentence in this one.
Friends, comrades, and teachers looking anywhere but at him as an invisible line is drawn between them. Satoru’s left standing on the other end, an outsider even to a conversation centered around him. But he’s Gojo Satoru and his body is not completely his own, so he has no other choice but to turn around and keep on walking, carrying the weight of his name on his back.
There’s a rustle.
Satoru blinks his eyes open. As the initial cloud of confusion ends, his eyes turn to the cup of tea that has been slid towards him and the boy bowing beside him, his previous thoughts disappear to be replaced with feelings that he finds difficult to unravel at the sight.
And it is among the atmosphere of an untended room, slowly filling with the smell of freshly brewed tea leaves, that he thinks that perhaps, for this one time, this lack of unfamiliarity with himself is not so bad.
The drops of water outside are no match for the footsteps of the boy leaving the room. Jujutsu-related topics are shoved to the side and it all comes down to the present.
Satoru slides the shoji doors open after finally getting up from his futon.
“I already told you, you shouldn’t feel obligated to do these kind of things”
The teenager nods but Satoru knows he’ll keep doing it anyways.
— —
After dealing with high level curses throughout the day, none of which could ever be of challenge to him, he returns to the grounds of the Gojo clan’s estate. His clothes are pristine as he had nowhere near broken a sweat.
He’s fine, unexhausted after an uneventful day. Yuji still waits for him in front of the door, waiting for him to slip out of his shoes to grab his jacket. He leans into Satoru's space, wrists resting on his collarbone as he undoes the inside button of the jacket's collar before completely unzipping the rest of it. Over his shoulders, along his arms, Yuji helps him take off the garment. Satoru can’t do anything else but to watch from the thin cloth covering his eyes his deft movements.
“The bath is ready if you wanna go in now,” the boy says, turning around the corner and taking his jacket with him. Satoru can smell the sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen. Something’s cooking.
Once in the bathroom, he scrubs his body clean before dropping to the bathtub. As his wet fingers massage a shoulder he can't help but think of velvety lips and hypnotizing sounds. He lets a hand rest on his chest: Caramel eyes, shared oxygen… Before he realizes, his hand has slid down his marked abdomen, below the surface of the water. He keeps his hand there, just below his navel with a million thoughts running in his head.
Satoru’s only taste of heaven, perfectly stored in the recesses of his mind. The images are so vivid, he can feel traces of the activity all over his body. He recalls what was once his.
Ultimately, his head hits the edge of the bathtub. He sighs before getting up.
He wonders what Yuji prepared for them today.
— —
“Oh, you’re here” Shoko looks up from her clipboard. Satoru is sitting in his chair, legs crossed. He had been discussing a recent mission with Yaga. Satoru laughs lightheartedly,
“What do you mean ‘oh’?” He is always here.
Yaga turns his gaze towards the woman in the doorway, mildly interested in her comment.
“‘Oh’ you’re here and not, I don’t know, wherever you usually are these days” She says, not any more helpful.
“You mean work?” Yaga surmised, narrowing his eyes at the woman, and daring the twenty-eight year old man to say anything that might prove otherwise. He knows the man can get easily distracted during the travel for his missions by things that are not ‘mission-related’. If he’s not here, then he must be working. Work, that’s all Satoru should be doing with his time.
Satoru says this as well.
The woman takes a long look at him. Her eyes move to the principal and then she’s looking back at her clipboard again. “If you say so,” and she continues on her way with a wave.
“You are working, right?” The man asks after she’s gone.
Satoru smiles. “Of course! I’m Gojo Satoru, here at your disposal”
Yaga looks unconvinced, but Satoru can say confidently that he has been working. In fact, he would say he's been more efficient these days. He finishes earlier than usual, and with missions abroad he no longer spends much of his time sightseeing.
Yaga’s eyes fill with an emotion, an emotion that lets Satoru know he should be preparing to leave because he knows what that look is.
He stands up from his seat.
“Have you…”
Satoru’s eyes flick to the door. If he makes his escape now, Yaga will only question him more, maybe not today, but another day, and that will be troublesome considering the person at the center of the conversation.
The only reason the principal hadn’t approached him with this before was simply because of Satoru’s history. The man was giving him time. Satoru was taking full advantage of Yaga’s consideration. However, he had expected for the silence to run much longer than this, and hopefully, with time, the man would forget about this topic altogether and they would continue on with their lives never having to discuss this. Clearly, he was mistaken.
Shoko opened a can of worms he had been hoping to bury.
The man sighs, discarding his previous strategy to breach the conversation, deciding to go instead for his usual straightforward approach. “How are you handling the boy’s death?”
“I've been heading to the family shrine lately. The talk of family and all that, y’know, really touched my heart, made me think of the lack of mine,” he answers in his typical fashion.
“Satoru” Yaga knows the current head of the Gojo clan could care less about his family, dead or not.
“I'm fine, Yaga. I'm a sorcerer. It's not like it's something I haven't seen a thousand of times before” He’s definitely not fine. Correction, he wasn't fine. So he's not really lying when he says he's fine now. The teenager is now well-secured in the walls of his estate, far from everyone's greedy hands.
Yaga stands up, sighing. Satoru might have bought himself more time.
“This wasn't any kid,” he says solemnly before leaving him standing in the middle of the room.
They can agree on that.
— —
“... and it looked a lot like a rock. They’re taking weird shapes these days,” he says that last part more for himself.
The teenager hums, far more interested in taking off his jacket as per his self-imposed routine. Satoru had told him immediately after showing him around the house about the reason behind his captivity, his grandfather’s death, and what his existence meant to the Jujutsu world. The boy had listened to him attentively with eyes that expressed he didn't fully comprehend what Satoru’s world was about, but he was quick to accept it. ‘If you say so then it must be true’ he said, and Satoru had stopped his rambling to stare.
He believed him.
“Ah, it’s teared”
Satoru looks down. There’s a hole on his left sleeve. Must be Shoko’s doing after the cigarettes. The woman had “stopped” smoking for a while now, but he knew where she stored her ‘just in case’ pack. Satoru took it and hid it in his pocket out of boredom. It was a silly prank. One she clearly didn’t appreciate.
“It’s fine, I’ll just—” Satoru begins when Yuji is suddenly unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Ah, Yuji…” but the boy paid no attention to him and continued unbuttoning the rest of the shirt.
Satoru stares, arms carefully still beside him. From this height he can see short pink eyelashes fluttering as the teenager blinks. His gaze is on the task at hand. Satoru is deprived of honey-colored eyes. His fingers twitch with the need to lift up his chin so they’re back on him again. He breathes slowly, forcing his mind far from these thoughts.
Fingers brush against his skin.
“Gojo-san?”
Honey eyes look up at him.
Satoru blinks. “Ah, sorry,” he says before letting go of the hand.
Yuji doesn’t question his actions, he resumes sliding off the rest of the shirt, stepping to the side to get better access to the back before completely sliding it off.
“The bath is ready. I’ll mend this in the meantime,” the teenager says before wandering off.
Satoru stands shirtless at the entrance of the main hall.
— —
“You’re doing it again”
“I’m doing what?”
“I’m not gonna repeat myself, Satoru. If you want to talk about it then go ahead, if not then stop bothering me. I have work to do”
Satoru leans over his knees. Shoko is no fun.
“Have you ever felt this energy winding up in your chest?” Satoru hums as he thinks of better words. He hits a palm with a fist, “Like an explosion!”
It’s cloudy outside.
“Explosions of any kind are no good, even less if it has anything to do with you,” the woman says jotting down notes. “Are you feeling unwell? That would be a change of pace”
She turns around then, facing him. “Does this have anything to do with where you have been going these last couple of weeks?” They’re alone, Yaga is not with them. He can see that she’s been keeping this to herself for a while now.
Satoru trusts Shoko, but this is something he would like to keep to himself. It’s a known fact that Satoru is followed by misfortune. So far everything has been running smoothly, too smoothly for someone like him. He wouldn’t want to ruin that. It’s also that same uncertainty that has him feeling a lump in his throat every time he sees the teenager walking around the house, working hard to keep everything in order.
He knows there is not a soul in Jujutsu society who would enter his clan’s grounds. It’s as safe a place as it can be. But there is still this feeling that unnerves him because the house is his, and anything that has to do with Satoru just falls to pieces. Watching him walk around the premises, caring for the house… he doesn’t know why, but it fills him with this feeling. His heart gears into action. He’s not really tending to the house, but somewhere inside Satoru, fixing things he thought were long broken. And if he’s inside him, a god of destruction, well, won’t he just fall apart even sooner?
The boy is always so careful with his steps, not wanting to ruin the tatami mats. Satoru couldn’t care less, but Yuji… he has this gentleness about him, like everything is precious and should be valued.
He feels like he’s losing his mind, why is it that he can’t just sit still and appreciate these moments of domesticity?
It’s only when he’s in the garden, resting below the shade of a tree, outside of the house but just within reach, that he can breathe again. He’s not inside Satoru, he won’t fall apart.
“You’re obsessed”
“What?” Satoru looks up.
“Yeah, immediately after finishing work, you head over there,” she motions to nowhere in particular. “You don’t sleep in your room anymore. Yaga hasn't said as much, but he’s noticed as well. He thinks you need time. I think you’ve found a distraction”
“What would you know?” Before he can stop himself, the words are already coming out of his mouth. His tone is sharp.
Shoko’s eyes have gained a glint. Satoru sighs. Did he get set up?
“Or not. So if not a distraction, then… the main source?” Satoru makes sure to stay silent this time. Shoko waves her hand, “Whatever. I won’t intrude. You could be visiting his grave for all I know, but whatever it is, it’s clearly affecting you if you’re still here and not… wherever”
“Release it, Satoru. Talk it out, scream, spar, whatever it looks like to you. Just let it out”
Satoru leans back on his seat.
“Woah, when did you become so cool, Shoko?”
“Idiot”
That evening when he’s on his way to the estate, rain begins pouring down. Rather than keeping Infinity running, he turns it off. He stands in front of the main gates, looking at the sky. He lets the water travel through the layers of his clothes until it reaches skin.
This strength… it makes him forget even about the simplest of human things. Normal people, even average sorcerers, need to plan ahead for things such as the weather. Standing here, at the mercy of the skies, reminds him of his humanity. He is but flesh and bones, a mortal who will one day perish.
It has been a while.
“Ahhh!! You’re soaking wet!” The teenager walks towards him with a rush in his step. He had gone running into the house looking for a towel after seeing his state. “We need to get you out those clothes,” he says, already taking off his jacket for him and dropping it into a metal bucket.
Satoru smiles, watching silently as the boy frets over him. While this is something he could well do for himself, as he’s told the teenager countless times, Yuji just won’t listen to him. So instead of fighting it, he cooperates.
Satoru’s hands are unbuttoning the front of his shirt. Yuji is working from the bottom up. Their hands meet in the middle.
Honey colored eyes meet him.
“Gojo-s—ngh” Satoru’s fingers are on the back of his neck, and he’s gripping, pulling, entering into that sweet promise that he held himself back from so many times. “hahh,” the boy breathes when Satoru removes himself from those rosy lips, giving in to the human need for oxygen. Unlike last time, his hands are not on his shoulders, keeping himself steady from a prolonged position. Instead, his hands grip his wet shirt, looking up at him with those eyes that have Satoru feeling weak.
He takes a step forward, body soaked, picking up the teenager into his arms. He’s back to kissing him shortly after, tilting his head up to meet luscious lips with his own. Yuji’s hands are on each side of his face, leaning down as he takes everything Satoru has to offer. His life, his power, his desires, Yuji gasps into his lips, never getting full of it.
It’s not enough. Satoru had stared off into the tile of his bathroom a thousand times, willing his lower body to stay put. The room would be full of his sighs by the end of it. The Strongest would not fall to his carnal desires.
He pushes Yuji onto the kitchen counter. Finding the space to fit between his legs, he positions himself in front of him. They're on each other not a second after, taking, giving, caring for each other’s bodies like no other being has ever done for them before.
“Gojo-sensei” Yuji had taken to calling him that after telling him more about the Jujutsu world, the types of curses there were, and the hierarchy that surrounded it. The boy would ask questions as someone unable to see them. His curiosity would always be so vibrant, eager to know more even if he didn’t fully understand it. If it were up to Satoru, he would never have to see them.
“Yuji,” Satoru calls back, inebriated with his kisses. His hands are on the inner side of his thighs, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers. Slowly, he makes his way up. The teenager lets out a whine. Yuji closes his legs around him, sliding closer against the surface of the counter until his lower body is flush against Satoru’s. Satoru can feel his own interest straining against the confinement of his pants. Yuji’s hand is on top of his, head snug between his neck and collarbone, small breaths of air escaping his lips.
“I— I don’t,” his lips are pressed to his neck, mouthing words that don’t need to be said out loud for the man to understand. He’d expected as much. “... experience”
Satoru lets out a small chuckle.
“It’s okay, Yuji”
There’s no reason to rush anything.
“But!... I still…” The boy rushes to speak, tightening his hold on Satoru’s hand. He snaps his hips forward, he can feel his intentions above his navel.
Satoru removes his hands from his thighs, quickly taking off the wet shirt sticking to him like a second skin before letting it fall to the floor. His hands are back on Yuji.
“Together,” Satoru whispers, taking the teenager’s hand in his own, before guiding both their hands to the source of his heat. Yuji gasps, forehead now resting against his drying chest. Satoru wiggles a finger inside the elastic of his shorts, stretching it down enough so the teenager’s co*ck is springing out.
“Good?” He breathes atop pink hair as he guides their hands along the length of the teenager's shaft.
“Mnn”
Satoru doesn’t need to be told more. He places a hand on the boy’s chin, making those honey-colored eyes look up at him, and kisses him. Yuji thrusts up, meeting their hands in between before pushing himself back on the counter, torn between surrendering himself completely to pleasure or escaping.
How sweet.
Satoru takes hold of his waist and pulls him back against him.
“No running away now” He says against his lips. How many times did he not do that every day after Satoru returned from work? “Not today” He works him towards completion.
Yuji c*ms with Satoru’s lips all over him.
Once their minds are out of the gutter, Yuji slips down the counter. He’s groaning, opening cabinet doors in a hurry to get everything spotless again. He’s blushing, covering his eyes as he sprays the cleaning spray on the kitchen counter.
Satoru leans down to pick up his shirt from the floor. He needs a shower.
“Ah, Gojo-san. Don’t you also need… uhm”
Satoru is already walking towards the other end of the main house. “Don’t worry about it, Yuji. I’ll take care of it,” he waves a hand in dismissal. He doesn’t wait to hear Yuji’s response and leaves, closing the bathroom door behind him. Like always the bath is ready for him.
Satoru lets out a sigh, stretching out the waistband of his pants.
Does this count as letting it out? He must have really been pent up if this was the sight that greeted him.
What Satoru didn’t know at the time was that he had opened another can of worms into his life that day.
Is it so bad? He thinks as his hands circled around the teenager’s waist once entering the house after another day of exorcizing curses. The teenager hugs him in return before pointing to the side.
“Bath”
