Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sneakers squeaking against hardwood. The thud of basketballs hitting the court floor. The loud cheering of the crowd in the bleachers as they yelled out in support for their favorite team. 

Geto Suguru took it all in as he readied himself for the last stretch of the game, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tried to focus. Tension was high as the scoreboard showed the two teams were tied, and their coach – Yaga, who’d been coaching Suguru’s university’s basketball team for the past fifteen years – looked like he was five seconds away from chewing on his own nails in anxiousness.

“I don’t know why everyone looks so worried,” Gojo Satoru loudly proclaimed, looking absolutely ridiculous after dumping a perfectly good bottle of water on his face instead of drinking it to hydrate himself. Not everyone agreed with Suguru’s opinion; a sizable number of boys and girls in the audience audibly sighed when Gojo shook his head to get his bangs out of his face, shooting them a winning smile over the rim of his sunglasses as he did, “after all, I’m playing.”

Gojo Satoru was a fucking idiot, but he was a good player. Not the best player, despite what he liked to say, but a good one nonetheless. Suguru thought they might have even made a good team, if it weren’t for the fact that Gojo was the most fucking annoying alpha he’d ever met in his entire life – which was saying something, considering he’d met Ryomen Sukuna.

Unfortunately, Gojo made it so that Suguru regarded him more as a rival than his actual teammate. 

There was no time to lose; they were getting into position – Satoru as the center, Suguru as the power forward –, the referee was blowing the whistle and then they were off. 

Nothing was ever quite as exhilarating as when they played. Practice was fun and sweaty and challenging – especially since he and Gojo liked to try and outdo each other at every turn, insisting on dominating every practice and making it all about who scored the most – but nothing was quite the same as playing against people they didn’t know or saw often.

They were playing against Kyoto that day, the second to last game of the season, and there was quite a lot at stake. If they didn’t win they wouldn’t make it to the finals, and Suguru was determined to not only make it to the finals but to also win. After all, it was his last year. 

In less than two months he’d be graduating and basketball would be long forgotten after that. Maybe he’d keep playing it casually, with friends, but it wouldn’t be the same. There wouldn’t be championships and titles and Yaga barking at them anymore, pushing them to be their very best.

There also wouldn’t be Gojo anymore, but that was more of a blessing than anything else.

“Let’s go!” Yaga yelled at them from the sideline, his usual stoic expression replaced with something weirdly akin to fervor, and Suguru pushed himself through the exhaustion, the sweat, focused on the ball and the Kyoto team players.

As power forward, his job was to defend taller players – by definition, Gojo; as Geto Suguru, and with Gojo having already scored 78 points while Suguru only had 43, he focused on trying to beat him. It didn’t even matter that there was a whole other team they needed to defend against, but that was what they had a smaller forward and a point guard for; if Suguru scored more points, then ultimately that was to the benefit of their team too. 

In the end, they won. 144 to 119, enough of a landslide that they could safely make it to finals and hope to be champions. Gojo obnoxiously teased the Kyoto players and stuck his tongue out at them, and somehow that only managed to make the omegas and betas – and even some alphas – in the stands swoon even more even though Suguru thought it just made him look ridiculous. 

As for their own competition, however, Suguru won. 97 to 95. 

He didn’t gloat and he wasn’t obnoxious because, well, he was better than Gojo. Always had been. Instead, he threw him a smug smile, eyes twinkling with something that screamed ‘I won I won I won I won I won, what are you going to do about it’ and then he turned back to their team, beamed brilliantly at their kouhai as he congratulated them on their win – “Haibara-kun, really well done with that pass at the end!” and “Nanami-kun, that was an incredible shot!” – and turned his back to Gojo, ignoring his antics.

One hour later, of course, he was being roughly pressed against the lockers by none other than Gojo Satoru himself.

He’d given up on understanding it long ago, but somehow their games always ended like this: their sweaty bodies pressed against each other in the locker rooms, either in the shower or on one of the benches or against the lockers themselves, with Gojo fucking him so hard Suguru always nearly forgot his own name. 

Suguru’s scent blocker was ripped harshly off his neck by Gojo – they were mandatory during games and practices, a way to prevent any fights (or worse) being triggered by the players’ pheromones – and his mouth was quick to latch itself onto his scent gland, licking and sucking and nibbling as Suguru squirmed under him.

Growling, Suguru shoved Gojo’s face away with one hand. “Careful,” he growled out, baring his fangs at that. 

“Worried?” Gojo crooned, licking a teasing wet stripe on the other side of his neck instead.

“You always do that,” Suguru complained, moving his hands to Gojo’s chest, mapping the hard lines under his fingers. “It’s not funny.”

“I can’t help it,” Gojo said, voice rough as he leaned in to sniff deeply at Suguru’s scent gland, sucking on it once, twice, for good measure to let out more of his scent, “you smell too good.”

He always said that, and Suguru never believed him. Alphas didn’t smell particularly enticing to each other; it was just the way it was. Alphas were enticed by omega scents and vice versa, and betas– well, betas were the lucky ones, in Suguru’s opinion.

“It’s the way we were made to be,” they were taught in school from a young age. “Alphas mate with omegas, and betas mate with betas.”

It was an outdated notion, of course. Over time, society had evolved to the point where relationships between the same secondary gender or of alphas or omegas with betas were normalized in the majority of the world. Japan had, for the most part, followed the same trend, but there were always exceptions. 

Suguru came from a small place where everybody knew each other and everyone was taught that it was abnormal for those types of relationships to happen, and Gojo came from a conservative family that often resorted to arranged marriages to ensure they kept the bloodline ‘proper’ or whatever the fuck that meant. Suguru still preferred alphas and Gojo didn’t have any particular preference, as far as he was aware, but that still didn’t change the fact that, technically, they were biologically made to repel each other.

Alpha scents were intended to repel each other, protect their territory from each other and keep each other at bay. Gojo’s scent wasn’t really all that to Suguru, the combination of burnt sugar and oranges a tad too sweet for his taste but otherwise not really causing him any revulsion; his scent, on the other hand, was something Gojo apparently couldn’t get enough of.

Liar.

“You’re taking too long,” he murmured, burying his fingers in Gojo’s hair – grazing his undercut as he did – and angling his face towards him so their lips could finally meet.

Gojo Satoru may be a grade A asshole, but it was undeniable that he was a good kisser. Gojo always kissed him like he was starving, like he wanted to devour him from the inside out. Suguru was always left breathless in his wake, chasing Gojo’s lips when he pulled away only to gasp when they would latch onto his neck instead, licking and sucking and biting as Suguru struggled to breathe. 

Oil oozed from Suguru’s scent gland every time Gojo sucked on it, eager to feel it on his tongue and gorge himself on the taste of grapefruit and nutmeg, and Suguru avidly clawed at Gojo’s clothes, trying to get him out of them. 

There was never any finesse or rhythm to their movements; Gojo and Suguru played a dangerous game, trusting everyone had already left and becoming entangled with each other right there, out in the open, and they did it with a sense of urgency that could only come from the thrill of knowing they could be caught. 

Gojo’s shirt was thrown to the floor and Suguru’s hands were finally on him, skin on skin, dragging his blunt nails down his pecs, before Gojo was abruptly letting him go, placing his feet on the ground, turning him around so he was face first against the lockers.

“‘The fuck are you doing?” he asked, trying to turn his head to look at Gojo, only to feel his shorts being pulled down in one go, then his briefs, and then– “O-oh–”

Suguru arched his back to try and give Gojo better access, parted his legs as Gojo flattened his tongue over his rim and lapped at his hole. They didn’t do this often – usually Gojo would just jump him and fuck him with as little prep as they could get away with, high on the fear of getting caught for one reason or another – but when they did Suguru’s legs would turn to jelly, barely able to hold himself up as Gojo fucked his tongue into his hole, softening it, loosening it in preparation for his cock. 

There was the light click of a bottle being opened behind him – the bottle of lube that Gojo shamelessly kept in his gym bag even though anyone could easily find it – and then one of Gojo’s long fingers was probing his hole, still cold from the lube. 

“Your hole is so tight,” Gojo said, voice low as he pushed his finger into Suguru, down to the first knuckle, “have you been waiting for me to fuck you again, Suguru-chan? Am I the only one who gets to fuck your pretty little hole?”

“Of course not,” Suguru snapped, choking on a moan as Gojo started to move his finger, fucking deeper into him. 

“Don’t lie,” Gojo crooned, slipping a second finger into him, making Suguru hiss from the sting, before licking a hot stripe over his hole, licking into him alongside his fingers. “Fuck Suguru, you taste so good,” diving in for a second taste, “your slick is so sweet.”

Biting back a moan, Suguru started to move his hips, trying to meet Gojo’s thrusts so he could get him deeper in him.

It should be humiliating, having Gojo talk to him like he was an omega, not really seeing him as the alpha he was, but it wasn’t; what was humiliating was that he liked it, that every time he said something like that Suguru’s core heated like a furnace and his cock twitched with arousal. 

Gojo’s tongue was gone, replaced by a third finger, wet and slick in him. Suguru was all stretched, cock already leaking copiously and eager for any sort of friction other than the way it rubbed up insistently against the lockers.

“Gojo,” he whined, breathlessly, so different from his usual self, “please…”

There was a tongue on the back of his thigh, wet and hot as it made its way up, sucking on the scent gland on the inside of his thigh, and then there was pain, his stomach twisting into coils as Gojo’s fangs abruptly bit his inner thigh. Suguru looked down to see blood mixed with lube and spit on his inner thighs, the sight serving to do nothing but send a jolt down his spine.

“Want me to fuck you now?” Gojo asked, removing his fingers and running his hands up his sides as he stood, chest pressed to Suguru’s back, “want me to split you open on my cock now?”

Suguru nodded, too gone for words, and let himself be turned around again, chest to chest, as Gojo’s hands once again went under his thighs and lifted him, pushing him roughly into the lockers. He’d be bruised the next day, he knew – he always was – but the pain quickly gave way to pleasure as Gojo lined himself up and thrust his cock into him, slowly, fingers digging painfully into Suguru’s thighs as he tried to control his movements.

“Fuck, baby,” Gojo moaned, face buried in Suguru’s neck, warm breath fanning over his unmarred scent gland, “you feel so good.”

The scent of burnt sugar overpowered his senses as Gojo increased his pace, thrusts never faltering as he slid his hands to under his knees, shifting their angle so he could fuck into him deeper. Suguru keened as Gojo started to thrust faster, rougher, dragging his nails down his back in an attempt to ground himself.

“Ngh– Gojo!” he cried out, head dizzy from everything – Gojo’s scent filling his nostrils, mixing with his, getting under his skin; the way Gojo fucked him in earnest, face buried so completely in his neck Suguru wasn’t sure how he was still breathing, his fangs grazing his scent gland like he was going to bite down at any moment, mark him, claim him– “Fuck– Gojo, s-slow down–”

“I’m gonna knot you now,” Gojo told him, voice rough and with a slight edge to it, like he was close to snapping and losing control – Suguru didn’t want to know what that would be like, “‘m gonna fill you up real good. You want that, Suguru-chan?”

“No,” he gasped out, lying; he was such a liar. He ached for Gojo’s knot, always did, wanted it in his throat or his ass or between his pecs, wanted Gojo to plug him up and fill him up with his cum real good. “No, we can’t–”

“I don’t care,” Gojo whispered in his ear, tugging on his earlobe afterwards, licking over his gauge, “I'm gonna knot you anyway and you’re gonna like it. Aren’t you, Suguru?”

“Ngh–”

“My beautiful omega,” Gojo murmured, licking a stripe right over his scent gland, knot already fully swelled and struggling to pop past his rim, “aren’t you, Suguru? My omega?”

“Alpha,” he mewled out, far too gone to care about what it meant for him to submit so easily, to try to meet Gojo’s thrusts so he could get his knot inside of him as soon as possible, “knot–”

“Shhhh,” Gojo cooed, laving tiny, soothing licks all over his scent gland, pushing calming pheromones onto him. It shouldn’t work on another alpha, not really, but fuck if it didn’t work on Suguru, “don’t worry baby, alpha’s gonna knot you now,” finally pushing his knot into him.

Suguru cried out, pain mixed with pleasure, letting out little strangled groans every time Gojo’s cock brushed against his prostate as he rolled his hips into him, chasing his own orgasm. He and Gojo were so close together, their chests practically flush together. Suguru’s aching, hard cock brushed against Gojo’s abs every time he fucked into him, delicious friction making his head cloudy and his skin near electric every time it happened.

“Such a good omega,” Gojo grunted, lost to his own pleasure, his small thrusts growing harder and harder, brushing his prostate at every turn, “you take me so well, Suguru– fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Alpha, please,” Suguru begged, not really knowing what he was begging for anymore, and then Gojo was cumming, filling him up with his warm seed, grinding his cock right into his prostate and dragging Suguru right along with him. 

They stayed there for a moment; Suguru with his head thrown back as he panted, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, Gojo with his head buried in his neck as he nuzzled into it, breathing in lungfuls of Suguru’s scent. 

Suguru’s legs trembled when Gojo finally slid out of him and placed him back on the floor, but he refused to ask for help. Never from Gojo.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” he said, brushing past Gojo to find his locker, avoiding eye contact.

For as long as they’d been doing this, the after of it all never got easier. It was always awkward – for Suguru at least –, the two alphas coming down from their high and needing to come to terms with their actions. 

They never talked about it, though.

The hot water was like a balm to Suguru’s muscles, loosening them and running down his bruised skin. There was dried blood and cum on the inside of his thighs and his neck was smeared with oil and spit. No inch of his skin was untouched, unmarred, save for the swollen scent gland on his neck, bruised and abused but still thankfully unmarked. 

“Do you have to take a shower right next to me?” Suguru snapped, turning his back to Gojo when he slinked into the showers and chose the one right next to him despite the ten readily available showers all around them. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Gojo asked, pushing his wet hair back, off his face, biceps and back muscles flexing as he did. Suguru wasn’t staring. He wasn’t. “We’re two alphas.”

“Right.” Like that mattered. If it did, Suguru wouldn’t be looking like he’d just survived an encounter in a leech-infested lake. 

He was quick to get away from Gojo after that, washing his hair and body as fast as humanly possible before going back to the lockers and changing back into his clothes. He picked up his sweaty team shorts and shirt off the floor, throwing them haphazardly into his gym bag, but Gojo was already hot on his trail, shaking his wet hair off his face like a dog as he reentered the locker room fully naked, clearly unbothered by his presence.

Show off.

“Not even a goodbye?” Gojo teased as Suguru neared the door, hoping for a hasty exit. “That’s cold.”

“We’re not friends,” he reminded him, avoiding looking back; he didn’t need a reminder of what Gojo looked like naked.

“True,” Gojo assented, rustling accompanying the lilt of his voice; getting dressed, no doubt. “We’re teammates, though. Where’s your school spirit?”

Suguru slammed the door behind him as he walked out, bristling as Gojo’s laughter followed him the entire time.

☾

Gojo had stolen his briefs. Again. 

At this point, Suguru was more annoyed at himself for not noticing than at Gojo for doing it. He didn’t know what the hell he did that for, if it was some sort of way to feel like he was the more dominant alpha between them or if it was for a far creepier reason – like collecting the underwear of every one of his hook ups –, but the truth was he always got away with it. Gojo fucked him stupid every time, and he always managed to swipe his underwear right from under his nose. 

He’d gone back to the dorms after making his escape from the locker room, ignoring Gojo who had somehow managed to catch up to him but lived, blessedly, somewhere else – Gojo was rich rich, so obviously he lived on his own apartment off campus – and when he’d been unloading his gym bag, putting his dirty clothes on the hamper, he’d noticed the very noticeable absence of his underwear. 

To make matters worse, Sukuna – the arrogant, bad-mannered captain of the rugby team who was also his next door neighbor –, clearly had his not-so-secret boyfriend over and Suguru had to put up with the noise. It was the campus’ worst kept secret: Sukuna was fucking his younger brother’s best friend, and everyone but his brother knew. It was laughable, really, if only that didn’t mean they hung out at Sukuna’s dorm more often than not, which in turn meant Suguru had needed to invest in some good earplugs when they’d first started going at it like rabbits last year. 

Suguru banged on the wall every time, but Sukuna only got louder. Fushiguro Megumi – the boyfriend in question – didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed whenever they ran into each other in the hallway. 

They were made for each other, in his opinion.

Still, he wanted nothing more than to get away from his room, away from the noise and the reminder that he’d just done the exact same thing not even an hour earlier with Gojo, of all people. Taking only his cellphone, his wallet and his keys, Suguru was quick to get away from his room, intent on going out to dinner by himself instead of whipping something up in the kitchen dorms. 

Predictably, he found he couldn’t get his mind away from Gojo no matter what he did. The memory of his hands on his body was still too fresh; if he focused enough, he could probably still bring himself to feel it all over again, remember every minute detail of when Gojo had been buried inside of him.

Their little thing had started back in their second year of university, though they’d known each other since their first. They studied two completely different things: Gojo was in Physics, Suguru was studying Sociology. There wouldn’t have been any need for them to meet if Suguru hadn’t been talked into trying out for the basketball team. 

Gojo was there on tryouts day, towering over everyone, showing off on the court even when it wasn’t his turn to play. Suguru was immediately annoyed, more so when he heard through the grapevine later that Gojo was apparently a prodigy. Prime alpha. The crème de la crème of Japanese society. Filthy rich. No wonder he was so annoying; he’d been taught he was the best from a young age, after all.

Everyone would fall over themselves to appease Gojo – omegas wanted either his knot or his money or both, while alphas didn’t want to risk angering the alpha that could apparently beat them all up, on par only with Sukuna. 

As for Suguru, well, he might have let it slide – the jokes, the annoying way Gojo hovered over him every time they ran into each other on campus like they were friends even though they were far from it, the way he constantly showed off on the basketball court instead of focusing on actually defending – if one day Gojo hadn’t decided to take it too far.

There’d been a party.

Suguru liked parties, liked feeling the thrum of the music under his skin and the fog of the alcohol getting to his head, making his limbs loose and his steps lighter. He was new to Tokyo and the university but he’d made a friend – a beta named Shoko – and she was always down for drinking, so when there was a welcome party for all the first years he was quick to string her along, pull her away from her Med school textbooks and get her to down some shots with him in the dorms kitchen before they headed off.

“Shouldn’t you be with them?” she asked, a while after they arrived, nodding at a group of jocks in a corner of the living room, talking loudly over the music and generally looking stupid. Rugby players.

“I don’t know them,” he said, confused.

“They’re jocks. Like you,” she pointed out, lifting a cigarette to her mouth. Suguru didn’t know if she could smoke there – they were at someone’s house, not under open air – but he didn’t say anything either.

“They play rugby,” he said, affronted. “I play basketball, we’re like two different species.”

“Okay, well. Where are your teammates, then?” she asked, looking around.

Suguru looked around too, curious. He wasn’t friends with any of them – especially not Gojo, despite his delusionions – but he was curious nonetheless to see what kind of people they were outside of the court. He didn’t have classes with any of them since he was the only one studying Sociology in the team.

Of course, the first one of his teammates that he spotted turned out to be none other than Gojo.

“That’s one of them,” he said, nodding in his direction. “Gojo Satoru.”

“I’ve heard of him,” she said, squinting her eyes in his direction. “Heir to the Gojo conglomerate and child prodigy Gojo Satoru?”

“That’s him,” he gritted out, only slightly annoyed that Shoko had already heard of him. Of course she had. Everyone had.

Gojo Satoru was alone, actually. Suguru had never really seen him with people before, at least not for too long. Contact with Gojo Satoru was always fleeting, with all the people interested in him – usually for his status – quickly realizing Gojo was… unpalatable. Unserious. Downright rude.

Still, Suguru looked at him and couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Maybe he wasn’t that bad; he just didn’t know how to make friends, probably. He turned to Shoko to tell her he was leaving for a few minutes only to find she was already gone, chatting up some girl – an omega, who smelled quite interested – somewhere nearby. 

Making his way over to Gojo, he was oddly pleased to note that Gojo was already looking in his direction as he approached, a secretive little smile playing in his lips for no reason.

“Gojo,” he greeted, sitting next to him on the ratty old couch – whose house were they even in? – and watching as Gojo’s smile widened. He was so pretentious, constantly wearing sunglasses even at night, at a party, where everything was already dark, sitting there in his 80000 yen dress shirt while holding a plastic cup like everyone else. Ridiculous. Yet still alone. “Liking the party so far?”

“Could be better,” Gojo said, lifting his cup to his lips, taking a swig of whatever it was he was drinking, Adam's apple bobbing as he did, “could be worse. What about you, Suguru-chan?”

“I told you to call me Geto,” he said, though only half-heartedly at best – they’d known each other for a month and Gojo hadn’t listened to him the entire time; he didn’t really expect him to start listening to him now. “And it’s okay,” he added. “It’s a party.”

He scanned the room again, for some reason feeling awkward next to Gojo. Gojo was always easy to be around, for the most part, even if he was annoying. The way he invaded his personal space on a near daily basis made it easy enough to move past any layer of uncomfortableness; now, however, Gojo was looking at him in a way that made him want to crawl out from under his skin, like his gaze from over the rim of his glasses was enough to shoot tiny pinpricks throughout his arms, legs, even his chest, his body sensitive in a way it shouldn’t be.

“Scanning the room, huh?” Gojo said, quietly; they were sitting close enough to each other now that Suguru could hear him without any problem. “Looking for an omega?”

“No, I’m not into–” He stopped himself abruptly, realizing too late what he’d been about to say as he shot a panicked look at Gojo. Gojo was looking right back at him, glasses halfway down his nose as he looked at him with surprise, eyebrows raised just a smidge.

“You’re not into omegas?” Gojo asked, shifting ever so closer to him. “Betas, then?”

“It’s none of your business,” he bit out, shuffling away from him, towards the other end of the couch.

“I’m not judging,” Gojo announced, raising his voice as he lifted his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Just curious, is all.”

“It’s really common,” he defended, averting his gaze from him. It was, he wasn’t lying. It was just Suguru had been raised differently, had been raised to think he could only mate with omegas. As much as he wasn’t into them, well. The sense of shame was hard to unlearn. 

“So what is it you prefer, Suguru-chan?” Gojo asked, invading his space again, sitting way too close for propriety, “Betas? Or is it alphas, hm?”

“Will you sto–”

“Alphas, then?” Gojo purred, speaking the words directly into his ear. Suguru hadn’t even noticed him getting so close, was definitely feeling a bit too warm under his clothes at his proximity, and his head– well, it was definitely the alcohol. His one and a half drink was getting to his brain, making it all fuzzy and pleasant as Gojo’s hard chest pressed into his arm. “Like it when they dominate you?”

Suguru’s mood soured, feeling very much like Gojo was playing a giant joke on him. They hadn’t discussed his preferences, but, “Aren’t you a little too close to an alpha right now?” he snapped, swallowing dryly as Gojo placed an arm over his shoulders, definitely overstepping his boundaries. “Aren’t you worried people will think you’re also into alphas?”

Gojo barked out a laugh, squeezing his shoulders a little bit tighter as he did. “I don’t really have a preference,” Gojo said, leaning in conspiratorially like he was telling him a secret. “In a few years, sure, I’ll have to marry an omega if I want to appease my family or whatever. Until then, though,” closer, closer, fangs grazing against the shell of his ear, warm breath fanning over his ear, “a hole is a hole.”

Suguru had left, then. Gojo’s laughter had followed after him, like he was mocking him, and Suguru had gone to find Shoko and drag her to a different room of the house, trying to cool down. He’d been so angry. Angry with himself for having actually felt sorry for Gojo after seeing he’d been alone, and angry with Gojo for being so– so– 

“He’s such an asshole,” he’d said, over and over again, to a clearly uninterested Shoko. He’d gone on to repeat the same speech over the years, proclaiming them rivals and no longer being so lenient with Gojo out on the court, even though at some point during their second year he’d ended up in a weird, unspoken arrangement with the very same alpha who he claimed he couldn’t stand.

That was a whole different story, though.

He forced himself to stop thinking about Gojo while he was out for dinner, at his favorite hole-in-the-wall ramen place with the crispiest chicken and the squishiest marinated eggs, busying himself instead with texting his sisters and catching up with them. He took his time with dinner, wanting to make sure he got home late enough that Sukuna and Megumi would have stopped their racket, and when he got back to the dorms he was pleasantly surprised to find that the room next to his was blessedly quiet and he’d be able to actually sleep. 

There was no Gojo on his mind for the rest of the night, not even when he opened instagram to see an unread DM from the very same alpha he was trying to forget about, but he was unlucky enough that his dreams featured the white-haired, blue eyed alpha anyway.

The next morning he woke up with sticky underwear and damp sheets from sweating and rolling around in bed, and he sighed in frustration as he stripped the sheets off his bed and peeled off his soiled underwear. He’d need to do laundry that day, no more putting it off. 

He was nearly late to his first class, not having expected to have to take a shower in the morning which took up longer than his usual morning routine, and as a result he was hungry by the time his first class ended, wanting nothing more than to grab something quick but still relatively nutritious on his way to his second class – coach Yaga was on their ass about their diets more often than not, especially near the end of the season. 

To make matters worse, of course, he ran into Gojo. More specifically, he ran into Gojo and an omega. He’d seen her around him before, was told she was also the heiress from some socialite family or another – the perfect match for Gojo. 

They were standing together near the vending machines, the ones Suguru was heading towards, and he quickly schooled his expression so he’d look neutral as he neared them, ignoring them as he looked at the selection of food. They were flirting, he realized, from the way she angled her body towards him and Gojo let his scent flare just enough to get a rise out of her.

“I was thinking maybe we could go this Saturday?” the omega was asking, voice sickeningly sweet as she let out as many enticing pheromones as she could, pushing them towards Gojo. “This new restaurant just opened up with the most amazing view of Tokyo.”

“Sure we can,” Gojo said, not sounding particularly into it but with a smirk playing on his lips, eyes obscured behind his signature sunglasses. “I’ll make a reservation.”

Pretending like he wasn’t there, wasn’t hearing them, didn’t even know them, Suguru scanned his card against the machine and bent down to pick up his onigiri, before starting to make his way back to the Humanities & Languages building. 

“Good morning, Suguru-chan,” Gojo called out, laughter lacing his words as he watched Suguru retreat, back already turned towards them.

Suguru ignored him. 

Chapter Text

“Focus!” Yaga yelled, barking at them from the neat row of chairs next to the court where he stood, clipboard in hand as he furiously scribbled notes from their practice from time to time.

The final game of the season – and of Suguru’s college career – was fast approaching, and Yaga was working them to the bone. Suguru couldn’t remember a season more intense than this one, where his nerves were so frazzled and every single emotion he felt was amplified by 100. 

Their title as champions depended on this one game, and every member of the team was determined to try their hardest to make it happen. Even Gojo, who generally didn’t give a shit about pushing himself during practice, was getting swept up in Yaga’s fierce coaching.

Practice had been amped up to 5 days a week, and weight lifting sessions twice a week had been made mandatory for the entire team. Suguru also went for runs most days in the morning, all the while trying to keep up with studying for his upcoming exams – the very final ones before he graduated, that could very easily make it or break it for him.

Suguru was exhausted. He barely slept 5h a night before he was back up and running again, trying to eat balanced meals whilst also fueling himself with black coffee and trying to stay on top of his classes.

Predictably, all of this meant only one thing: Suguru was pent up. More than ever before.

Usually, he worked it out quite easily with Gojo after a game, but that was as far as it went; their unspoken agreement was for after games, not before, which meant Suguru would need to take care of the tension permanently settled in his muscles in a different way.

Or, more accurately, with a different person. 

The weekend before the big game, Suguru went out to a bar with one single-minded focus: getting laid. 

He’d tried enlisting Shoko to go with him but she’d been ‘busy’ studying for upcoming exams – something Suguru severely doubted, seeing as he’d seen her not-girlfriend posting a picture of the two of them in a café in Kyoto earlier that afternoon. That left either his kouhai or his classmates but truthfully he didn’t feel comfortable enough with either to go out to a bar with them and ditch them when he found his prey for the night. 

Therefore, Suguru was left to go alone, sporting his most flattering, loose black jeans and a matching cropped black mesh top, hoping against hope that his leather jacket was enough to keep him warm on the way between the dorms and the bar in the cold February air. 

He pre-gamed alone at the dorms, feeling only a little pathetic as he downed shots of vodka by himself in an attempt to get warmer and hype himself up for what he was about to do, and then he was out, walking all the way to the nearest subway station so he could go look for a bar where nobody knew who he was.

Suguru didn’t often do this. One night stands. 

He’d lost his virginity to an omega back when he’d been sixteen and everyone was presenting, high on the scent of pheromones, but even then he’d only done it because everyone else was doing it and it was what he was supposed to do. He remembered being nervous, the scent of his classmate doing nothing but aggravating him even if he didn’t quite know why, and his dick had gone flaccid twice before he’d finally been able to do anything of substance with it. 

It was a miserable experience. His classmate didn’t have fun and he didn’t either, and he’d gone back home feeling a profound sense of wrongness. 

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe he needed to do more research on it. Or maybe, he’d considered, he was asexual. Yeah. That was probably it.

In the spring before moving away for college, he finally realized what was missing all along. He met an alpha named Kōji who’d gone back to his hometown for the summer – three years older, boyish grin and dark eyes that liked to rove shamelessly all over his body – and suddenly everything clicked into place.

It hadn’t been a fluke and he was certainly not asexual. He was just into alphas. 

He spent spring break with Kōji and experienced his first heartbreak. Suguru moved to Tokyo; Kōji went back to France for his master’s. 

During his first year, Suguru hooked up with someone once or twice. Nothing special. The first time was at his second ever college party, where he steered clear from Gojo and ended up in someone else’s bedroom, with not enough lube and far too much drunken confidence, and the second time was when he and Shoko got so drunk after their first ever exams he didn’t even remember how he got into the love hotel or the name of the alpha he’d been with.

It was entirely possible that, after his second year, he’d kind of… stopped. Almost entirely. There’d been that one time last year he’d tried actually dating someone but then they’d slept together once and it had been all wrong. 

Suguru told himself it wasn’t because of Gojo. It wasn’t. But he supposed it certainly helped that they fucked on the regular.

But that would be over soon and Suguru couldn’t really wait around for the game next week, otherwise he’d be too pent up to train properly and they might actually lose the champion title, so it was high time Suguru stopped relying on Gojo’s (admittedly big) dick and got over it. 

The bar he chose was a seedy thing, dark and small and more of a club than an actual bar, but Suguru wasn’t complaining. He’d put on scent blockers to avoid being approached by omegas and was let in pretty easily as soon as the bouncer looked him up and down and took note of his outfit. 

Strong scents filled the cramped space, almost no bigger than his own dorm room, and Suguru wrinkled his nose at the cloying scent of what were clearly two omegas in pre-heat, grinding against each other by a wall near the entrance.

Hopefully that would be him in a couple of hours. Maybe even sooner than that if he played his cards right.

First things first, however, he needed another drink. 

Your eyes are full of hesitation

Sure makes me wonder if you know what you’re looking for

Tying his jacket around his hips and elbowing his way over to the bar, Suguru made his way through the crowd while doing his best not to have beer spilled on him, a task that was only made harder by the fact that the place was clearly at over capacity, everyone jammed into a shoebox like canned sardines. 

Getting a drink proved to be easier than he thought it would be thanks to the tall, alpha bartender who eyed him up and down and gave him a look, clearly interested in what he saw as he honed in on Suguru’s toned stomach and biceps. He was hot; Suguru would definitely consider him as an option if he didn’t find someone else by the end of the night. Waiting around for someone’s shift to end wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, though. He needed to wake up early in the morning to study.

Throwing the bartender a wink, Suguru turned his back on the bar and eyed the crowded dance floor in an effort to make a game plan. He’d prefer sticking to the sidelines with his drink and observing the scene until he could find a worthy target; on the other hand, he was far more likely to be approached if he was out there dancing, so that was exactly what he did. 

Baby I want to keep my reputation

I’m a sensation

You try me once, you’ll beg for more

Spotting a less crowded part of the dance floor, Suguru raised his drink above his head to make sure he didn’t run into anyone with it and spilled it and made his way over to where he wanted. He was still not drunk enough to dance without any worry in the world, but he was tipsy enough that his eyes were starting to droop and his limbs were feeling looser. Sipping on his straight vodka was definitely the right move as he started to dance, swaying his hips from side to side. 

By the time his cup was empty, Suguru’s arms were already up in the air as he sang along to whatever music was on, barely able to discern his own voice as he felt the beat of the music pulse through his body, making his skin vibrate as he danced.

Yes sir, I can boogie

But I need a certain song

Spinning in place, Suguru’s eyes struggled to focus on the sight in front of him. The crowd had thinned out a bit and he could see clearly across the room, back where there was a small, cramped seating area that couples used to make out fairly out of sight.

There was someone tall across the room, taller than him, leaning against the wall as he chatted with someone else he couldn’t make out, and his eyes dragged across his frame as he took him in. Clearly an alpha, judging by his broad shoulders and strong arms, clad in a tight fitting black shirt and jeans. Dragging his eyes back up, trying to get a glimpse of his face so he could decide whether that would be his target for the night–

Oh for fuck’s sake.

It was Gojo.

Not only was it Gojo, it was Gojo with the same omega he’d been stringing along for the past few weeks. The one he’d heard Gojo say he was going to make a restaurant reservation for so they could go for dinner together. The ideal omega. 

To his chagrin, Gojo noticed him. 

Suguru frowned, averting his gaze so he could keep scanning the room for other alphas, but when he let his eyes fall on them again it was to see Gojo was looking right at him, grinning in that way that made Suguru’s insides boil with annoyance. 

I can boogie, boogie woogie all night long

Ignoring him, Suguru turned back around, running his hands through the back of his neck and the sides of his waist as he danced, all too aware of Gojo’s eyes on him. 

It didn’t matter. Let him look. The bar was a free space.

He opened his eyes again to see a different guy looking at him, half full drink – beer, by the looks of it – in hand as he looked appreciatively at Suguru, sizing him up. Suguru tilted his neck invitingly, lowered his lids so he could look at him from under his eyelashes, and just like that the man was on his way over to him, an attempt at a seductive smirk in place.

He wasn’t very good at it. Suguru didn’t need him to be.

“Hey,” the man – alpha; he could smell him, the scent of pine and leather, as basic as could be – said, leaning in so he could hear him better. “‘You alone here?”

Suguru nodded, eyes darting down to the drink in his hand. “Can I have some?” he asked, sweetly. 

The other alpha handed him his drink and Suguru took a hearty sip of it, letting a drop slide down the side of his mouth and towards his neck, over the patch on his unmarred scent gland. 

“Thanks,” he said, handing him back his drink, barely any beer left. “Want to dance?”

“What’s your name?” the alpha asked, moving closer anyway, boldly moving one hand to rest over the side of Suguru’s bare waist.

“Suguru.”

No sir, I don't feel very much like talking

No, neither walking

You want to know if I can dance

Their bodies moved in sync as they danced. The other alpha was a little clumsy but Suguru didn’t mind; as long as he knew how to fuck him later he could stand there stiffly all he wanted.

Turning around in his arms so he could grind his ass against the alpha’s hips, his mood soured as he spotted Gojo again. This time, he was sitting on one of the loveseats, the other omega glued to his side as she talked directly into his ear. Gojo, however, didn’t seem to be paying attention to her; instead, his eyes were glued to Suguru.

Suguru smirked, emboldened, and lifted one of his hands to reach back and around the other alpha’s neck, bringing him closer to him as he rolled his ass against his obvious erection. 

Gojo looked pissed. Suguru didn’t really care; hadn’t he had to see Gojo with a different omega on his arm every few months for the past four years? Why shouldn’t Gojo get to see him dancing with another alpha?

Yes sir, I can boogie

If you stay, you can't go wrong

Turning back to face the alpha he was definitely going to fuck later – whether at the alpha’s apartment or in the bathroom of the club, it didn’t really matter; hopefully the former, though –, Suguru looped his arms around the alpha’s neck as he willed Gojo out of his mind.

Get out get out get out get out get out. Why did he have to be here? He was ruining everything.

Suguru would ruin everything if he didn’t get his head back into the game.

“You dance really well,” the alpha told him, warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear as he leaned into his space, trying to be heard over the loud music of the bar. 

“So do you,” he lied, laughing when the alpha gave him a sheepish look in response. “Hey,” he said, getting his attention.

The alpha looked at him – Suguru didn’t even know his name yet – and then Suguru leaned in, brushing his lips against his. 

I can boogie, boogie woogie all night long

It wasn’t a very good kiss. The alpha was too eager, too sloppy with it as he immediately licked into Suguru’s mouth, trying to explore every crevice of it. Suguru angled his head, closed his eyes, tried to lose himself in it, but it was hard to.

The thought that maybe he should lose this alpha and look for someone else briefly crossed his mind, but then the alpha’s hands were sliding up his waist, fingers sneaking under his mesh top to splay across his back and Suguru thought maybe, just maybe, they could still make this work.

Suguru pulled the alpha closer to him, broke their kiss as the alpha moved to kiss his way down his neck, and tried to ignore the overwhelming scent of pine and leather filling his senses.

He didn’t like it. It was too sharp.

The alpha was slowly getting closer to his covered scent gland and Suguru was starting to get impatient, not really wanting some random person near it and unable to fight off a shiver of revulsion, so he gently pulled the alpha’s head back so they could look at each other.

Putting on his most sultry look, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Yes sir, I can–

“Suguru.” Gojo’s voice abruptly cut into their conversation, and suddenly it was as though everything else around them was drowned out. The music was muted, burnt sugar and oranges overpowered leather and pine, and a jolt went down Suguru’s back.

Traitor, Suguru thought to himself. His body was a fucking traitor.

The alpha shot an annoyed look at Gojo over Suguru’s shoulder, only for his eyes to widen when he took in the taller alpha in front of him. “Do you know this guy?” he asked him.

“Ignore him,” he started to say, but Gojo was already wrapping an arm around his bare waist, forcibly pulling him back towards him. “Gojo, what the–”

Suguru turned his head to look at Gojo, eyes narrowed in annoyance, but the look on Gojo’s face made his blood freeze in his veins. He looked downright murderous. 

The other alpha had long taken a step back, looking between the two of them as if considering whether or not Suguru was worth the trouble in the face of what was clearly a more dominant alpha coming between them, but Gojo was apparently not letting him leave so easily seeing as he was staring right at him.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re touching?” he asked, voice low but somehow still discernible over the volume of the music around them. “If I see you near him again I’m going to break every finger in your hand and cut off your tongue so you don’t stick it down anyone else’s throat anymore.”

“Whoa man, what the fuck,” the other alpha said, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “Listen I didn’t know he was with someone else, okay? He was the one who kissed me.”

Gojo’s fingers dug painfully into Suguru’s waist at those words. “Now you know.”

Suguru’s head spun as Gojo started dragging him away, away from the dance floor and towards the exit of the bar instead, and he only had half a mind to stop him when they were nearly by the entrance.

“Hey, what the fuck,” he complained, digging his heels into the floor to keep Gojo from dragging him further, “you don’t get to do shit like that, what’s your problem?”

“We’ll talk outside,” Gojo told him, grabbing his forearm tightly as he continued to drag him alone.

The alcohol was definitely getting to him because Suguru let himself be taken outside without any further resistance, telling himself he didn’t want to make a scene and get himself kicked out and banned from that bar over someone like Gojo.

Gojo pulled him towards an alley nearby, dark and smelling of piss, and Suguru leaned against the wall annoyedly as he looked at the glint of Gojo’s blue eyes, only half visible over the rim of his stupid sunglasses, standing tall and proud in front of him as he caged him in.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why the fuck are you cockblocking me?” It wasn’t like him to curse this much; he rarely ever did it, but Gojo always – always – brought out the worst in him.

Barking out a laugh, Gojo leaned one of his hands on the wall right next to Suguru’s face. “Are you serious right now? Did you really think you could almost fuck another alpha in front of me and I’d be alright with that?”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Suguru snapped, scowling at him in annoyance. “I see you with omegas all the time and you don’t see me going up to you and acting like an asshole about it.”

“Maybe you should,” was all Gojo said, lips forming a thin line on his face. “Why don’t you?”

Suguru scoffed, barely believing the words coming out of Gojo’s mouth. Was he drunk? “Did you hit your head?” he asked, letting out an incredulous laugh. “You’re nothing to me, why the fuck would I do that?”

Gojo’s sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he leaned further in, close enough that Suguru could feel his warm breath right against his lips, “I’m nothing to you?” he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “Is that what you really say about the person who’s fucked you for the last three years to the point where you can’t walk straight sometimes?”

“Like that means anything,” he spat out, only for Gojo to press his entire body against his, pinning him against the wall.

“You know, Suguru,” Gojo continued, like he didn’t hear anything he’d just said, one hand going up to caress the side of his face, “I usually think it’s pretty cute when you’re in denial and you pretend like you hate me.” Huh??? “But right now,” he continued, ignoring the utter look of befuddlement on Suguru’s face, “I really don’t find it cute at all.”

Gojo kissed him then, the hand on his face sliding down to firmly cup his chin so he could keep him in place, bullying his tongue into his mouth as he slid their tongues together. 

The grip on his chin was painful, fingers digging so hard into his bones Suguru could only let himself be consumed, swept up in Gojo’s kiss. His arms went around Gojo’s neck without even meaning to, pulling him closer to him so their bodies could be flush against each other as he tried his best to reciprocate.

Suguru was drowning, mind deliciously empty of anything but Gojo and his intoxicating scent, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted it to end. Wasn’t sure he’d fight the current if it tried to sweep him away forever.

“Your body is so honest,” Gojo drawled out, breaking their kiss and instantly nosing against Suguru’s neck, nose bumping against his covered scent gland. “You keep saying we’re nothing but look at you now, rubbing up against me like any common whore.”

“Shut up,” he said, weaker than intended, though he couldn’t even deny it; he was. He was insistently rubbing his erection against Gojo’s, trying to get as much friction as he could, even going as far as to moan when Gojo’s thumb flicked off the flimsy scent patch off his neck and dug into his scent gland, releasing as much oil as he could.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this,” Gojo continued, licking a hot stripe over his gland. “You can fuck as many people as you want,” his lips closed around his gland, sucking, making Suguru squirm against his hold, “but nobody else gets to touch this.”

“You’re wrong,” he insisted, but he knew Gojo knew it was a lie; he’d never let anyone so close to the scent gland on his neck before. Suguru never dared get that close to Gojo’s. 

He was abruptly turned around, hands bracing against the wall of the alley as Gojo’s fingers slid down his bare waist, fingers deftly undoing the button of his jeans so he could slide them down along with his briefs, bare ass exposed to the cold.

“Gojo,” he warned, voice low as he turned his head back, “are you crazy? We can’t do that here.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he told him, running a hand through his bare ass, large hand squeezing one of his cheeks, “nobody’s gonna see us.”

There was a rustle behind him and then the sound of something ripping, before one of Gojo’s long fingers slowly started to circle his rim, lube still cold and sending a shock through his system. 

“Gojo,” he hissed, jolting from the cold, “at least warm it up first, what the–”

“Shhhh,” Gojo cooed, slowly pushing his finger inside, “sorry, baby.”

He didn’t sound sorry. 

For as exposed as they were in that dark alleyway, the sound of people passing on the street next to them a constant around them, Gojo took his sweet time opening him up, slowly scissoring him open with two fingers as Suguru arched his back trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he whined, inwardly panicking when he heard loud voices stopping near the entrance of the alley, “someone’s–”

“Don’t be impatient,” Gojo told him, adding a third finger next to his other two, making Suguru hiss from the burn. “See?”

“Just fuck me already,” Suguru hissed, and then Gojo was making him bend further against the wall, one hand grabbing his hip possessively as the other rushed to open his pants and free his cock. Suguru wished he could see it, maybe even suck him off; not in a dirty alley, though.

“Remember to be quiet,” Gojo teased, cockhead rubbing against Suguru’s hole as he smeared lube all over his rim before starting to push in, slowly splitting him open on his cock.

Suguru let out a choked out moan when he bottomed out, and Gojo responded by wrapping an arm around his front and covering his mouth with his hand, bringing them flush together, chest to back.

“That’s not being quiet,” he said, voice strained as he rolled his hips against Suguru’s, teasing him with short thrusts. “Fuck Suguru, you drive me crazy,” he let out, and then he was fucking him in earnest, keeping his hand over Suguru’s mouth as he pulled back only to slam back in harder.

His fingers dug painfully into the wall in front of them, fingernails rubbed raw by the concrete as Gojo slammed into him. It was always like this between them, hard and fast and rough, just the way they liked it; worth the pain even if his fingertips would be swollen and caked with dry blood the next day.

Gojo buried his face in Suguru’s neck, inhaling deeply, and Suguru clenched around him when he started lapping at his scent gland again, sucking and licking and leaving playful little nibbles on it, making Suguru shiver against him.

“‘You like when I do this?” Gojo asked, hoarsely, nearly indiscernible from the way he kept mouthing wildly at his neck. “‘Like when I almost claim you?”

Suguru’s eyes widened, head shaking wildly as he tried to say ‘no’ around Gojo’s hand. What the fuck was he thinking? He was crazy. Gojo was crazy. Suguru was crazier for the spurt of pre-cum shooting from his cock at his words.

“I think you do,” Gojo continued, hand tightening around Suguru’s mouth, thrusts speeding up. “I even think you’d let me bitch you, wouldn’t you?”

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t, but then Gojo’s free hand traveled over to his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts, and Suguru was cumming all over himself as Gojo fucked him through his orgasm, harsh and relentless as Suguru struggled to hold himself up against the wall. 

Gojo came as he bit down hard on his shoulder, tearing through skin and drawing blood, letting out a low, guttural moan into Suguru’s neck as he emptied himself in his walls. To Suguru’s pleasant surprise, he had enough foresight to not knot him and keep them there unnecessarily. 

He didn’t pull out straight away, though. Gojo panted heavily into his neck as they both came down from their high, arm wrapped tight around his waist as he single handedly kept him standing. Suguru’s knees were weak and the only thing keeping him warm against the harsh cold of March was Gojo’s weight against him, shielding him from the outside world. 

“Gojo,” Suguru murmured, after their breathing returned mostly to normal, “get off me.”

The other alpha pulled out of him with a low chuckle, uncaring of the mess he was leaving behind as cum almost immediately dribbled down from Suguru’s hole, splattering against the ground and making his inner thighs sticky. 

“Hold on,” Gojo said, voice low as he kept Suguru from moving with one hand and used the other to scoop up the remaining cum, stuffing it back into Suguru’s hole with two thick fingers. Suguru let out a low moan, surprised, but stayed still regardless. He was too tired to argue.

They tucked themselves back into their pants afterwards, Suguru grimacing at the stickiness in his ass and inner thighs, Gojo still too close for comfort once they were done.

It was awkward. Suguru didn’t know what to say; he never did. Gojo, on the other hand, had a weird look on his face as he looked down at Suguru, skin only partially illuminated by the weak candlelight coming from the main street, sunglasses lopsided.

“Do you–”

“Don’t do that again.”

They’d started talking at the same time, but Gojo had shut up once Suguru started. His lips parted in surprise and he still had that weird look on his face, except now he looked twenty times worse. Like a kicked puppy, maybe. Suguru had never seen him look like that.

“What?” Gojo let out.

“I said, don’t do that again,” he repeated, voice firm. “Don’t get in my way and don’t insert yourself into things that are none of your business.”

He expected Gojo to laugh incredulously again, adopt that same cocky, ‘I own you’ alpha asshole attitude again; instead, Gojo stayed silent, expression unreadable as he stared at him from over the rim of his glasses.

“You really hate me, don’t you?” Gojo asked, giving him a small smile. 

Suguru swallowed heavily, taken aback. Did he hate Gojo? Was it ever that serious? He didn’t really know. Didn’t want to think about it either. So, “Good night,” he limited himself to saying, before turning his back on him and walking back out onto the main street, only a few steps away from the bar he’d started his night at.

Mercifully, Gojo didn’t follow after him. Suguru didn’t know why he opted to stay in that dark alleyway all by himself, but he didn’t really care either. There were Ubers right around the corner so thankfully he got one as soon as he called for one, and in no time he was being driven back to the dorms. Sobriety had long kicked in, somewhere between Gojo dragging him out of the bar and sliding the first finger into him, and a faint headache was starting to materialize.

The night had truly gone sideways. Completely different from how he’d expected it to. 

When he got to the dorms the hallway of his floor was mercifully empty. No drunk people lingering outside of their doors, no sound of fucking reverberating through the walls. Just Suguru and his heavy heart, swaying lightly on his feet as he unlocked the door to his room and pushed himself inside. 

Tall glass of water, aspirin to fight off the beginning of his headache. Changing into pajamas. Going into the communal bathroom to pee and clean himself as best as he could in his state; wrinkling his nose at the thought of still needing to brush his teeth but doing it anyway. 

His phone read 3:48 by the time he stumbled into bed, and he plugged it to his charger before turning his back to it and closing his eyes, willing sleep to come.

Instead, he stayed awake, a million different little thoughts swimming around in his head and making him dizzy. 

Foot on the floor to ground you, he told himself, turning to lie on his back and setting his bare foot on the ground next to his bed, trying to avoid getting sick. 

All of his thoughts, as different as they were, centered around the same thing. Same person. Gojo.

He was different tonight. Suguru had never seen him like this before. Gojo had always liked saying stupid things during sex, ever since their first time back in second year, but he’d never acted like this outside of their arrangement. Like he actually believed the shit he spewed while he was buried deep in him. 

Whatever.

It’d be over soon, anyway.

In just one week, they’d have their last game. After that… Well, after that they wouldn’t really have post-games anymore to keep meeting like that. No more waiting around for everyone to leave while they hurled insults at each other to make them believe they were too busy fighting to get themselves cleaned up. No more glancing around to make sure they were really alone before jumping each other, tongues battling for dominance as their hands pawed at each other’s clothes. No more–

Pause. Stop. No rewind. Suguru didn’t want to think about that.

In one week, he and Gojo would have the last game of their university career; after that, they’d throw themselves into their studies. They would graduate and each go their own way – Gojo, probably to do something pretentious and flashy as the Gojo conglomerate heir; Suguru… he still didn’t know. 

Moving back home wasn’t fully off the table. Moving to another city wasn’t either. Staying in Tokyo… He wasn’t sure. 

One thing was for sure though; no matter what, he wouldn’t see Gojo again.

☾

It wasn’t until the next morning that he realized his jacket was missing.

Chapter Text

Three years earlier

It’d only been a month since practice had started back up again and Suguru was already tired of Gojo. 

His fervent wishes over spring break that Gojo would quit the basketball team during their second year or, better yet, that he would just up and transfer somewhere else — overseas, preferably — unfortunately didn’t come true, so on their very first week of classes he’d had to put up with him during practice no less than three times.

Yaga hadn’t even given them a week’s grace; first day of classes he was already summoning everyone into the court, setting up practice three times a week because, according to him, they needed to “keep their eye on the prize” — the prize being the championship at the end of their second semester — from the get go.

To Suguru’s surprise, he also named him team captain.

Maybe that was what was tickling Gojo the wrong way and why he was so much more annoying than he had been the previous year. He was “the best”, “second to none” in his own words; perhaps he’d expected to make captain instead. 

“You know, Suguru,” Gojo told him one day, swinging an arm over his shoulders despite the way Suguru visibly tensed, walking back to the dorms with him uninvited after practice was over; Suguru didn’t even think he lived at the dorms, “if you didn’t have that stick so far up your ass you and I could make a great team.”

Oh, Suguru hated him. He really, really did.

“You and I could be the last two people alive on Earth and I still wouldn’t want to pair up with you for anything,” Suguru told him, trying to squirm away from his hold. He couldn’t, though; he was strong, but Gojo was stronger and taller. Suguru had never felt so small before.

“That’s a shame.” Gojo’s hold on him tightened just a little bit, squeezing his shoulders as they neared Suguru’s building. “I was going to say I could stick something else up your ass if you wanted.”

That was the day Suguru saw red and unceremoniously kicked Gojo’s ass, leaving him behind with a swollen bump on his forehead and what he hoped was a broken nose as he went up to his dorm to take a well deserved shower.

He’d thought that would be the end of it; he was wrong.

If anything, Gojo only became more insufferable, hovering around him more often and getting on his nerves constantly. If Suguru didn’t know any better, he’d say he was doing it on purpose, trying to get a rise out of him; as it was, he knew it was just the way Gojo was. Annoying and, apparently, with far too much free time in his hands. 

Suguru considered himself an expert in ignoring him and not letting him get under his skin, except the first game of the season came around and Gojo nearly cost them their win by acting like he was the only player in the team, and that made Suguru angry because who did he think he was? 

Coach Yaga yelled at Gojo, gave him a huge lecture after the game in front of the rest of the team, only getting more worked up when he realized Gojo was barely paying him any attention, more preoccupied with trying to get Suguru’s attention, and by the time they were released and allowed to go to the locker rooms to shower and change Suguru was brimming with anger. 

He’d need to have a chat with Gojo, otherwise he wasn’t sure they’d be able to keep coexisting in the team.

“Stay behind after everyone leaves,” he told him firmly, once they were near their lockers, uncaring if anyone overheard him. “We need to talk.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving into a smirk. “Of course,” he said, easily, leaning his weight against his locker with one arm, “I’m always happy to stay behind to talk with Suguru-chan.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at the obvious innuendo in his words and sat on the bench, not bothering to shower before their talk. He’d rather get it over with and then have the locker room all to himself or even just go and shower back at his dorm. Gojo seemed to have the same idea because he settled for idling around too, scrolling on his phone and laughing as he leaned in to show Suguru any funny tiktok he came across. 

He was so nonsensical. Gojo acted like they were friends one second but loved to antagonize him the next, often crude to a point that Suguru couldn’t understand. He’d long given up on the idea that they could be anything resembling friends, but he hoped they could at the very least reach a truce when it came to being on the team, especially now that Suguru was captain. It was his duty to the team to make sure Gojo wasn’t a menace. 

The rest of the team caught on to what was happening so they trickled out quickly, waving their goodbyes quietly as they looked between Suguru’s impassive face and Gojo’s ever-relaxed one with apprehension. 

By the time the last of their teammates left and they were alone, Suguru was already standing, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at Gojo who was still sitting on the bench, looking far too relaxed.

“Gojo,” he called out, keeping his voice even. “Put down your phone.”

“So bossy,” Gojo commented, but immediately set his phone somewhere off to the side, focusing all his attention on him. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“You,” he immediately said, going straight to the point. “Your behavior today was unacceptable, and as team captain it’s my responsibility to ensure you don’t pull something like that again. The rest of the team–”

“We still won, though,” Gojo interrupted, getting up from the bench to walk closer to him, hands on his hips as he looked down at him with a playful smirk, “so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is we’re a team,” Suguru snapped, uncrossing his arms to mirror Gojo’s stance, raising his chin in an effort to go up against the taller alpha. “If we practice as a team and we plan strategies as a team, it makes no sense that you go off and do whatever you think is best just because you think you’re the best–”

“I am the best,” Gojo countered, shrugging.

“It doesn’t matter!” 

Suguru was raising his voice, losing his usual careful composure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; not when Gojo was so infuriating, so obviously trying to be a thorn in his side. What did he want? Did he want Suguru to step down as captain? Did he want him to quit the team–?

“Of course it matters–”

“If it did then we wouldn’t have a team,” he snapped, leveling a glare his way. “We’d just have you, single player, out there against every single team–”

“And I’d still win,” Gojo insisted, laughing when Suguru glared harder. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and it took Suguru a second to realize he could hear it so much clearer because Gojo was right in front of him now, both of them having somehow moved closer to each other. They were so close their noses were almost touching, except Suguru was still some good 10cm shorter and had to look up at him. “What is the problem?” Gojo continued,  “I did one thing differently, we still won–”

“The problem is you’re you!” he exploded, and he didn’t know who moved first but their lips were crashing together, a mess of tongue and teeth and a prickle of blood from how hard they’d mashed their mouths against each other. 

Suguru’s hands were on Gojo’s back, fingers digging deep into his shoulder blades as he tried to keep himself grounded during the kiss. He was shocked when they finally broke apart for air, but before he could say anything Gojo was kissing him again, a large hand coming up to cup his cheek, and Suguru forgot all about whatever it was he’d been planning on saying. 

Gojo walked him back against one of the lockers, slammed him into it, before his hands traveled down to the back of his thighs so he could lift him up.

“What are you doing?” he asked, breathlessly, when Gojo broke their kiss to pant hard against his mouth, electric blue meeting golden brown. 

“What I should have done a long time ago,” and then Gojo’s lips were on his neck, warm tongue dragging down and over his scent gland, and Suguru’s brain officially turned off. 

They didn’t have any lube. Gojo happened to have a condom stashed at the bottom of his gym bag, which meant they relied on the power of spit, hope and the lube on the condom to open up Suguru as much as possible before the blunt head of Gojo’s cock pushed in, large and red and far too big. 

Suguru whined as Gojo kept pushing in, feeling the breath get punched out of his chest when he finally bottomed out, and he could feel the way Gojo’s arms trembled as he kept holding him up throughout it. 

“You feel so good,” Gojo whispered, leaving mindless little kisses all over his bare shoulder, “fuck Suguru, you’re so tight–”

The drag of Gojo’s cock against his walls combined with the potent scent of oranges was making him dizzy, unable to do anything but hold on tight and let himself be pounded into. His blunt nails scraped against Gojo’s back, making Gojo hiss every time he dug them deeper into his skin, and Suguru moaned low in his throat the first time Gojo sucked on his scent gland, making him release a fresh wave of pheromones that wrapped around them like a fuzzy blanket.  

Gojo didn’t knot him when he came, and Suguru didn’t beg him for it either even if there was nothing he wanted more; instead, he told him to pull out as soon as he regained awareness, frozen in place as he realized Gojo was wrapped all over him, panting into his neck while his elongated fangs grazed against his scent gland in a moment of madness. 

“Not yet,” Gojo murmured, but Suguru pushed at his shoulders, made him pull out and step away from him, feeling both hot and cold and, above all, with a growing sense of dread low in his stomach. 

He stood naked in front of Gojo, cum leaking out of his ass and down his thighs, breathing hard as the reality of what they’d just done dawned on him. Gojo was naked too, pecs and biceps scratched up and lips bitten, staring at him with dark eyes as he breathed just as hard.

Gojo looked like he was going to say something, but Suguru didn’t want to hear it. DIdn’t want to find out whatever it was he wanted to say. 

Was he going to call it a mistake? Was he going to make one of his crude jokes, maybe even say he’d ended up sticking something else up his ass as he’d joked that one time? 

He didn’t want to know.

“I’m going to shower,” he announced, curtly, instantly killing whichever words had been on the tip of Gojo’s tongue. 

Without waiting for an answer, he was quick to move towards the showers, stopping only at his locker to grab his things. He could hear Gojo trailing after him silently, but even when they stopped to stand beside each other in the showers, he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Couldn’t stand to find out how Gojo truly felt about the whole thing. 

What had they done?

☾

Present time

Before he knew it, the final game of the season – and of their college careers – was upon them.

Tension was high, hints of sourness leaking through the mandatory scent patches on everyone’s necks, and Suguru’s stomach tied itself into knots repeatedly as they waited to go out into the court. They’d done their warm ups, gone through their strategy two times, and now they were waiting for the match to begin.

Gojo was growling at anyone who looked his way, the lines of his muscles tense as he sat on the bench with his sunglasses still on, but Suguru couldn’t even bring himself to berate him. He was just as tense, if not more, and the only thing keeping him from doing the same was his sense of propriety, somehow keeping his alpha instincts in check.

The whistle went off, the two teams – Tokyo and Osaka – filtered into the court, and they were off. 

It was intense. Gojo got into a fight with the referee that nearly got him kicked out of the game but Suguru stepped in and tried to get him to calm down. When he lightly placed his hand on his arm he was only 50% sure Gojo wouldn’t turn against him and snap his fangs as he growled, but instead it had the opposite effect.

The game went on and Tokyo won – though not by much – and Yaga actually looked like he might be about to cry, shakily putting on his sunglasses so nobody could see the way the corner of his eyes glistened with tears.

Suguru was happy, but as he sat in the locker room afterwards, watching his kouhai celebrate and talk about how next year they’d be even better, he was hit with a deep sense of nostalgia. 

He wouldn’t be there next year. This was it. He was done.

And, looking sideways at Gojo, who sat equally still on the bench next to him, observing their surroundings with an uncharacteristically serious expression, so was Gojo. They were both done. 

By the time Suguru and Gojo were left alone in the locker room, Suguru still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“Hey, Suguru,” Gojo started, turning his head slowly to look at him, not making a single move to jump him the way he usually did, “wanna go to my house instead?”

His lips parted in surprise as he blinked at Gojo, not knowing what to say. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, maybe it was the tight ache in his chest every time he thought this was his very last time in these locker rooms, his very last time stepping onto that court as a member and captain of Tokyo U’s basketball team; maybe it was something more, even, but Suguru wasn’t even surprised when the words coming out of his mouth were a simple, “Yeah, sure,” and nothing else.

The ride to Gojo’s house was quiet and awkward. 

They’d taken a quick shower before leaving, just so they wouldn’t have to sit in their sweat as it cooled on their skin, and afterwards Gojo had walked them to his car, a recent, sleek black model Suguru could only start to guess how much it cost.

His apartment was as flashy as Suguru had imagined. Gojo lived in one of the nicest neighborhoods close to campus, in a high rise apartment with a 24/7 doorman and one of those pretentious elevators that zoomed past the ‘cheap’ floors and straight onto the top ones. 

Suguru tried not to gawk, less than eager for Gojo to see him as the country bumpkin he really was, still so unused to Tokyo even after four whole years there, but it was difficult not to when Gojo unlocked his front door and he stepped into an apartment that looked straight out of a movie, with large floor-to-ceiling windows covering the entirety of the living room and an equally spacious balcony on the other side.

“Nice, right?” Gojo quipped, obviously noticing the way Suguru had been staring ever since he’d walked in.

Ignoring him, Suguru busied himself with taking off his shoes and leaving them neatly by the front door, before putting down his gym bag next to them. 

This was unfamiliar territory. Outside of their little locker room escapades, he’d never spent so much time alone with Gojo before, and suddenly he was very, very thankful for the scent patch still sticking to his scent gland, masking his no-doubt anxious scent from the alpha who was casually going into the fridge to get a bottle of water, acting as though this was any other day. 

Maybe it was, to him. Maybe this was only odd to Suguru.

“Want some?” Gojo asked, strolling back to him with a half empty bottle in hand. 

“Sure,” he let out, proud of himself for not stuttering, lifting the proffered bottle to his lips and letting the icy cold water trickle down his throat. He’d needed that. His throat had been so dry ever since he got in that car with Gojo.

He didn’t know how to act from there. In the locker room, it was easy; they’d taunt each other until one of them caved and jumped the other. There, however, Suguru knew where they were supposed to end up, but he wasn’t sure how to get them from A to B in a setting that seemed so much more intimate. He’d never expected to end up in Gojo Satoru’s apartment one day, with full awareness that they were about to have sex for what was very likely – 99.9% certainly – the last time. 

Fortunately, Gojo solved the issue for him. Staring intently into his eyes, Gojo took the bottle back once Suguru was done and lifted it back to his own lips, uncaring that a trail of water was falling down the side of his mouth as he took large gulps. Then, tossing the empty bottle aside, stepping closer to Suguru, he kissed him.

His hands were cold. His fingers reached out to cup Suguru’s face and Suguru shivered under his touch, letting Gojo angle his face so their lips could slot together more easily. 

It was easy from there. His hands lifted to grasp at Gojo’s shirt as they kissed, craning his neck to give him better access, and when they parted for air Gojo simply took his hand and walked them to his bedroom, the only one in the apartment going by the number of doors in the hallway to the right of the living room.

Suguru barely had the chance to look around before Gojo was on him again, one hand on his neck as his thumb scraped against his scent patch and removed it and the other wrapped around his hair, loosening his tight bun as he walked him backwards towards the large king sized bed.

Gojo pushed him and Suguru fell easily, feeling the cool satin sheets under his bare arms as Gojo crawled over him, caging him in between his arms as he looked down at him.

They’d never done this before, with no time pressure or the risk of getting caught at every turn, able to take their time with each other without the cold, hard surface of the lockers digging into Suguru’s back. Suguru felt oddly shy, lying under Gojo as he kissed him, softly, delicately, much slower and more deliberately than he’d ever done before. 

It was so easy for him to lose himself in the kiss, breath hitching as one of Gojo’s hands sneaked under his tank top, brushing his fingers over warm skin. Their tongues slid together as Gojo flicked his fingers over one of his nipples, making him moan into his mouth, and Suguru only distantly realized he was grinding back against Gojo, nearly humping the leg between his thighs as the desperation of their kiss grew. 

The other alpha shifted above him, removing his leg so he could roll his hips against Suguru’s, and Suguru’s breath hitched as their clothed erections rubbed together, sending a jolt down his spine. It was so good already, surrounded by Gojo in every way, but he needed more. 

“More,” he breathed out, eyes half lidded as he looked up at Gojo dazedly, using his hands to push at Gojo’s shirt in an attempt to get it off. 

Gojo chuckled, a low, throaty thing, and he sat up on his knees as he hooked his thumbs under the hem of his shirt and rolled it up, revealing every inch of his toned abs. Suguru licked his lips, reached out with his fingertips, felt the hard muscle flexing under his fingers as he ran them over his skin. 

“What do you want?” Gojo asked, voice husky with desire, helping Suguru sit up so he could help him take off his top. His large hands splayed over his sides once his torso was fully bare, thumbs rubbing over his pert nipples as he did. Then, ignoring his own question, “Let me eat you out.”

“Yeah?” he breathed out, feeling liquid heat pool in his abdomen at how eager Gojo sounded at the prospect, how much he wanted to get his mouth on him. 

“Yeah,” Gojo exhaled, fingers already reaching for the button on Suguru’s pants.

Suguru moaned loudly at the first swipe of Gojo’s tongue over his hole, fingers clenching in the sheets under him as he tried not to squirm. Gojo was teasing him, pressing the flat of his tongue over his hole before pulling back to suck on his rim instead, fingers digging hard into the meat of Suguru’s thighs as he tried to keep him in place.

“Stop teasing,” he whined, lifting the back of his hand to cover his eyes so Gojo couldn’t see him or the deep flush on his cheeks, embarrassed at how needy he was. “Come on.”

“Alright, baby,” and then Gojo was diving right in, tongue eagerly lapping at his hole, dipping into it messily as he spread his saliva all over his walls and rim. Suguru could feel a glob of spit sliding down the inside of his cheeks, and it only made the coils in his stomach tighter.

Gojo ate him out like he was starving, moaning right into his hole and making Suguru’s toes curl from the way the sound reverberated inside of him, the room filled with nothing but Suguru’s moans and the filthy, wet slurping sounds Gojo was making. It wasn’t long before Suguru’s hand was on Gojo’s hair, pressing him closer, trying to still his face so he could fuck himself back against his tongue. Deeper, deeper, harder, was all that echoed in his mind. More.  

The pressure in his abdomen built and built but it had nowhere to go, not when there was something missing, and Suguru didn’t realize what it was until one of Gojo’s long fingers was probing at his hole, wet and slick with lube, easily sliding in without resistance. He was so much fuller like this, with nothing but Gojo’s tongue and his finger, still not enough but closer, and then Gojo crooked his finger and–

“Oh,” he gasped out, feeling the pressure finally burst inside of him as he came, thick spurts painting his abs as Gojo simply kept eating him out, adding a second finger without him even realizing it.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Gojo rasped out, crawling over his body again so he could kiss him, making Suguru moan as he realized he could taste himself. “You taste so good.” Gojo’s fingers were still inside of him, stretching him, and Suguru frantically reached for Gojo’s cock, wanting to touch him too. 

Suguru turned to lie on his stomach when Gojo finally – finally – gave into his pleading and prepared to fuck him, hips propped up on a stray pillow as Gojo straddled him and pressed his legs together with his hands, effortlessly sliding into him with one smooth thrust.

His face pressed into the pillow under him with every thrust, guttural moans coming out of his throat as he felt Gojo deep inside of him. The other alpha set a punishing pace, balls slapping hard against Suguru’s skin every time and Suguru couldn’t help but think, deliriously, that if he had a pussy he’d be able to feel it, would be able to feel Gojo’s balls hitting his clit every single time he thrust into him.

Gojo draped himself over his back, panting hotly into his neck as he moved above him, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach as he kept up his pace. Suguru started to cry at one point, far too overwhelmed with how full he felt and how much his scent mingled with Gojo’s, the smell filling his nostrils and making his scent glands ooze oil without needing any sort of stimulation, and Gojo simply licked away his tears before latching his mouth onto the gland on his neck, licking and sucking at the oils oozing from his gland. 

When Gojo was close to cumming he surprised him by pulling out, cooing at Suguru’s soft noise of confusion before turning him so he was lying on his back instead. 

“I want to look at you when I cum,” he said, somehow the most embarrassing thing he’d said all night, but Suguru didn’t have time to think about hiding from him before Gojo gripped one of his thighs and draped it over his shoulder, thrusting into him so deep Suguru swore he could feel him in his throat. 

Suguru cried out at the first thrust, the first time Gojo pulled all the way back only to push into him hard, the breath nearly punched out of his throat, and then he was crying out every time, unable to stop himself but not really caring either, feeling so close to Gojo he cried all over again.

“So good,” Gojo mumbled, face buried in Suguru’s neck, his favorite place, nose nuzzling against his scent gland, “you’re so good, I love this so much, I could do this all day–”

He couldn’t pay him any mind even if he wanted to, far too overwhelmed, especially so when Gojo started stroking him in time with his thrusts, hard and fast and thumbing at his slit, and Suguru was finally thrown over the edge when Gojo’s knot swelled and popped past his rim, locking them together and pressing the tip of his cock against his prostate as he ground his hips against him.

His vision whited out as he came, his hole trembling and clenching around Gojo’s knot as he felt the alpha spill into him, and he lost all awareness of time and space and even himself. All he could feel was the scent of oranges and sugar, and the pointy tip of Gojo’s fangs grazing against his gland as he sucked on it desperately.

When it was finally over, all Suguru wanted was to stay right where he was, tired and boneless, more than happy to melt into the satin sheets and fall asleep just as he was. His mind wouldn’t let him, though. His thoughts raced in his head, leaving him conflicted, and he couldn’t quite make sense of them.

Why had tonight been so different? Why had Gojo touched him so reverently, almost as though he had feelings for him?

It wasn’t something worth dwelling on, not when their circumstances were so set in stone, so he carefully extricated himself from Gojo’s hold, mourning the loss of warmth as soon as it happened, valiantly ignoring the small noise of confusion that came out of Gojo’s throat as he gingerly sat up in bed.

“What are you doing?” Gojo asked, voice heavy with sleep. “I’ll clean us up in a bit.”

Had Gojo wanted him to stay longer and cuddle, then? That was so–

“I’m leaving,” he informed him, even as the knot in his throat tightened with every word. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Suguru–”

Suguru didn’t wait for an answer. Picking up Gojo’s discarded shirt, he held it between his legs as he moved with far more confidence than he felt towards the door that undoubtedly led to the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind as he entered. 

He moved in auto-pilot, not giving himself even a second to question what he was doing as he cleaned himself up as best as he could with one of the towels in the bathroom, before going back to the bedroom. 

“Why are you leaving?” Gojo asked, still fully naked but already standing in the middle of the room, frowning at him as Suguru avoided his eyes. “You know, just because we’ve always done things a certain way doesn’t mean we can’t change that. You should stay the night.”

“I don’t want to stay the night,” he stated, firmly, slipping his briefs back on as he studiously kept his gaze on the floor, scanning for his discarded clothes. 

“Okay,” Gojo acquiesced, voice oddly smaller than he’d ever heard it. “You could still stay a little longer. I bet you’re hungry, I could–”

“I don’t want to,” he repeated, finally chancing a look at Gojo once his pants were back on. 

It was a mistake. Gojo looked hurt and desperate and Suguru didn’t really understand why, because that had been by far one of the tamest things he’d ever said to him. Why was Gojo so adamant on changing things between them now? 

“Okay, well,” Gojo continued, watching the entire time as Suguru bent down to pick up his discarded tank top, pale blue eyes following his every moment. “Are you looking forward to the break? Any plans before classes start back up again?”

That gave Suguru pause.

“We’re graduating,” he told him, slowly. “I’m just– done with classes.”

Gojo blinked, clearly taken aback. “I’m going back for my Master’s,” he told him. “Aren’t you?”

Suguru shook his head. Had Gojo thought this whole time nothing would change once they graduated? That they’d just both go on to do their Master’s and keep up their little–?

“I may not even stay in Tokyo,” he blurted out, not sure why he was bothering to tell him this. It didn’t matter, not to Gojo, but– “I’m going to start looking for jobs right after graduation, but… I think I’m a little sick of Tokyo.”

“What?” Gojo asked, voice breaking at the end. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“Yes,” he told him, more firmly. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Gojo asked, baffled. He looked a little ridiculous, fully naked with his dick out swinging between his legs as he took on a more defensive pose, yet all Suguru could focus on was the betrayed look on his face, as though Suguru had owed him anything. He hadn’t. It’d never been like that for them. “You weren’t even going to say anything? What, was I supposed to find out when you were already living somewhere else?”

“Why does it even matter?” he snapped, finally losing his patience. “We’re not friends, so why would I bother telling you anything at all? Gods Gojo, you–”

“We’re not friends?” Gojo laughed, sardonically. “Okay, well, maybe we’re not friends but we’ve been fucking for three years–”

“Yes, we’ve been fucking for three years, but that’s all it was,” he told him, raising his voice without even meaning to. “I don’t consider my dildos my friends either and I’ve been fucking them for longer!” Gojo looked like he was slapped across the face at that. Good. Suguru wasn’t done. “Why do you even pretend to care so much?” he continued. 

“Pretend to care?” Gojo repeated, quietly. His eyes shifted quickly to the side, towards the built-in closet Suguru had managed to spot in the corner when they’d barged into the room earlier, but they shifted back towards Suguru just as quickly.

Suguru looked at the closet, confused, before he realized one of the sliding doors was half-opened. It still didn’t explain why Gojo had looked there, and he was fully prepared to turn his head back around to face him when he realized there was something familiar in the closet.

“Suguru–”

Ignoring him, Suguru walked towards the half open closet, opening the door wider to look at it properly.

“Is this my jacket?” he asked, picking up the object that was hanging neatly at the end of the row, contrasting against the line of crisp white dress shirts that Gojo owned. 

The jacket smelled like them. It still smelled like Suguru, just a little, more grapefruit than nutmeg, but Gojo’s scent was… all over it, assaulting his senses as soon as he took it.  

“I thought I lost it,” he said, turning back around to face Gojo, whose face had lost all color. “Why–?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Gojo blurted out, quickly, words stumbling over each other. Then, slower, “I love you. I’ve– since our first year–”

“What?” he asked, unable to process Gojo’s words.

It was like an out of body experience; his body was there, facing Gojo, but Suguru’s mind was elsewhere, floating above them and watching the entire thing, the words soft and faint like an old TV transmission. 

“Suguru, I’ve always liked you,” Gojo continued, moving past Suguru’s dazed state. “I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but I tried so hard to get your attention, to make you just stop and look at me–”

“You were a dick,” Suguru told him, hearing his own voice distantly. “How–”

“You wouldn’t talk to me otherwise,” Gojo said, softly. “When we slept together the first time, I just…” he trailed off, pausing to swallow heavily before continuing. “I just wanted to have you in any way I could. I hoped you’d eventually give me a chance, but–”

Suguru laughed, a quiet, bitter thing, sliding his gaze back to his jacket just so he didn’t have to look Gojo in the face anymore. “You didn’t try,” he said, quietly. “I don’t believe you. If you really– all those omegas–”

“Suguru, I never did anything with them,” Gojo said, voice turning more desperate, stepping closer to him. They were so close now Suguru could smell him, the scent of oranges souring by the second, “I swear, I was just trying to make you–”

“Stop.”

Gojo was so close to him he could feel the exact moment his muscles tensed, could hear the way his breath hitched in anticipation for Suguru’s next words.

Looking up at Gojo again, unwilling to back down, Suguru faced him head on. “I don’t feel that way about you,” he told him, voice nearly a whisper even as he willed it to be strong, firm, even; even if he didn’t feel that sure of himself to begin with. “We’re graduating and our little thing,” he continued, motioning one of his fingers back and forth between them, “is done. I’m sure you’ll be fine. There’s plenty of people throwing themselves at you any day of the week.”

“Suguru,” Gojo tried, lowering his voice.

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring him, fingers clenching hard on the jacket in his hands, “what was it said in our first year? A hole is a hole? I’m sure it won’t matter to you, then.”

He left without a second look then, leaving Gojo behind in his bedroom as he went back out into the hallway, putting on his leather jacket as he walked.

It was awful. He was sore and tired and fully surrounded by Gojo’s scent, like lazily peeling a sweet, juicy orange in a warm summer afternoon, and his heart ached as he bent down to put his shoes back on.

Gojo followed behind him silently, like a ghost, not making any further move to stop him. 

Suguru pretended that didn’t kill him just a little bit.

“Goodbye, Gojo,” he said, quietly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought past the knot in his throat, closing the front door quietly as he left Gojo behind.

Chapter Text

Suguru stayed in Tokyo.

He’d meant what he’d said, about leaving. He’d sent in applications and had gone to interviews too. There’d even been an offer from a youth association in Sapporo that he’d seriously considered taking, if only to get away from Gojo and the memory of their last encounter, but ultimately he’d ended up accepting an offer from a large non profit company based in Tokyo.

It was temporary, he told himself. Three months at best. He’d get experience, save up as much as he could since the salary wasn’t all bad, and then he’d find something else.

Three months had already come and gone, and Suguru had no intention of leaving. He liked what he did, all his friends – which weren’t many to begin with, but enough – lived in Tokyo and every time he thought about leaving his chest tightened so much he’d worried he was having a heart attack the first time it happened.

So he stayed.

He got a small studio apartment a few subway stations away from his work and he filled it with plants along the windowsills. Work kept him so busy he barely even noticed the first three months go by. He was thankful for it, though; it kept him from thinking about it.

Safe as he was during the day while at work, the nights were different. At night, Suguru would lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he willed sleep to come, and he turned Gojo Satoru’s words in his head over and over again. 

I’ve always liked you.

I tried so hard to get your attention.

I just wanted to have you in any way I could.

I love you.

Suguru tried not to dwell on it, but it was impossible. Gojo’s words haunted him day and night and he couldn’t forget them no matter how much he tried. 

As for Gojo himself, he hadn’t seen him again since that day. He’d been vaguely aware of seeing him during their graduation ceremony but it had been a quick thing, a blur of his white hair visible from the corner of his eye. 

If Gojo tried to contact him, he didn’t know. 

After leaving Gojo’s place, Suguru had gone back to the dorms feeling oddly numb. His phone battery had died some time during his walk home and he hadn’t bothered to charge it until the next day; instead, he’d taken a shower and crawled into bed, forgoing dinner, and he’d stared at the ceiling much the same way he’d taken to doing even in the months following. 

Gojo was crazy. He had to be. There was no other explanation as to why he’d said something like that. 

How could he have ever developed feelings for him? They barely talked unless they were arguing – or, better yet, unless Suguru was arguing with him – and the longest amount of time they’d ever spent together one on one was after their games, where they definitely didn’t get to know each other, so how…?

The only explanation was that Gojo was confused. Suguru was his most long lasting relationship, going by the string of different omegas he’d gotten used to seeing him with around campus – even if Gojo said he’d never even done anything with them –, and he was probably confusing sex with love. It was all the pheromones. It had to be. 

He’d fallen into a restless sleep eventually and when morning came and he finally turned on his phone it was to find Gojo had tried to reach him any way he could, from the various texts and missed calls he had as well as instagram DMs. 

Naturally, Suguru had blocked him everywhere. 

Sometimes, he unblocked him. Sometimes he’d let Gojo’s words get to him and he’d get the urge to reach out, ask ‘do you still feel the same way or am I right and you only feel that way because you don’t know what else to feel and you think this is the way it should go?’. He never did.

Other times, he’d question himself. He’d feel the way his stomach had sunk in on itself months earlier only to never return to normal, and the way his heart ached, gaping wide open every time he thought about that day, and he’d wonder if he’d been wrong after all. Was he just deluding himself?

He didn’t know.

What he did know was that every time the hole in his chest threatened to expand and sink him into misery he still had his jacket. The leather one, the one Gojo had taken and kept for himself after they’d fucked in an alley. The one that still smelled so much like Gojo he could just hold it up to his nose and breathe in deeply, feeling his lingering scent fill his senses and instantly loosen all the tight knots in his chest. 

Gojo Satoru’s scent shouldn’t bring him comfort, and yet it did. Always had, really. 

Around the three month mark, however, it faded. Suguru had seen it coming a mile away, really, but he’d still hoped he had more time. Day by day, Suguru felt Gojo’s scent slipping from his fingers. Now, Gojo Satoru’s scent no longer lingered in his leather jacket, and Suguru yearned.

All of a sudden, Suguru couldn’t ignore his feelings anymore, even if they were nothing more than a jumbled, confusing mess. He missed Gojo, but it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for Gojo to like him and it made even less sense for him to have any feelings for him. And yet, even with three full months between them without seeing or talking to each other, where any sort of temporary claim they had on each other would have been easily dissolved, Suguru still yearned. 

His heart involuntarily skipped a beat when he received an invitation for a night out with some of his old university acquaintances.

“Will Gojo be there?” he’d ended up asking, all nonchalant, when Shoko had first told him about it on a rare day when they were able to grab a few drinks together after work.

Shoko had simply stared at him, tilting her head in thought, before responding. “Why do you ask?”

“He left something of his in the locker room after our last game,” he lied, effortlessly. “I’m tired of holding onto it for him.”

Luckily, Shoko seemed to buy it, because she only shrugged and told him that “yes, I heard he’s going” and that was that. Suguru had always been happy to have Shoko as a friend because she was the type of person who didn’t push, didn’t pry and simply drew her conclusions based on the things she observed around her; now, though, he would have liked her to pry just a little bit, if only he could get more out of her.

Like what was Gojo doing? Was his master’s going okay? Was he working at the family business on the side? Was he engaged to an omega his family would approve of?

All normal things one might want to know about their former classmate and team member, he was sure, although it might come across as weird when he was the interested party. He’d spent years complaining to Shoko about him.

He was ridiculous.

He was so ridiculous, in fact, that when the night of the actual reunion came about, he unblocked Gojo for the first time in weeks. After having spent the entire morning feeling his stomach coiled into knots at the prospect of seeing him later that day, he’d ended up giving in when lunch time had come around and he didn’t have any work to hide under and had unblocked him everywhere.

Predictably, nothing came through. 

He knew better than to think Gojo spent his free time trying to get through to him in the hopes that Suguru had suddenly decided to unblock him, but he was still mildly disappointed even when he had no reason to be. Maybe Gojo didn’t know he was going to be at the izakaya that night. Or maybe he wasn’t going anymore. Even worse, maybe he was going and he knew Suguru would be there too; he just didn’t really care anymore. 

Either option made him sick, and he only felt more nauseous when he left work only to find Gojo had sent him a text after all.

It was a single message, saying nothing more than ‘I can’t wait to see you tonight.’

Suddenly, Suguru wanted to turn around and take the next subway home. There was so much energy thrumming through his veins he was practically vibrating out of his skin, even if on the outside he looked as calm and collected as he usually did.

He felt nauseous all the way to the izakaya, having to take a seat in the subway to keep himself as grounded as possible. Thankfully he’d remembered to carry extra batches of scent blockers with him that day because from the way he was sweating with nerves the ones he’d been wearing were already peeling away, letting out whiffs of his anxious scent to anyone sitting or standing next to him.

Rushing to the public toilet of the subway station as soon as he got to his destination, he took in a deep breath as he stared at himself in the mirror before doing what he needed to do. Washed his face with cold water. Carefully replaced the scent blockers on his neck and wrists, making sure the skin wasn’t too oily so they wouldn’t peel easily. 

By the time he was done he was already running late, near certain he’d be one of the last to arrive. He tried not to think too hard about how to act once he arrived, but in the end his walk from the station to the izakaya was spent thinking up various scenarios. 

Maybe he’d arrive and Gojo would have saved him a seat, since he and Shoko were somewhat friendly.

Or maybe he’d arrive and Gojo would be on the other end of the table and they wouldn’t talk to each other all night.

There was also the possibility that Gojo wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, who knew. An omega, for sure.

Gojo could also be ‘fashionably’ late and none of this would apply, of course. 

He didn’t know. All he knew was that as soon as he arrived at the izakaya, his eyes would make an instant beeline for Shoko and he’d worry about Gojo later. If he were there, great, if not, that was great too. He was going there to see old friends and drink, not to see Gojo.

His mind was 100% resolved as he went into the izakaya. His body, however, was not, because as soon as he stepped in his eyes made a quick sweep across the table that was surrounded by people he’d seen for the past four years, and his heart sank when he realized Gojo wasn’t there yet. 

This was good. Better, even. This way, he could keep an eye out for when he arrived and prepare himself according to the situation. 

Suguru settled down next to Shoko, who was already waving over a waiter to ask for two more beers – she was halfway through hers, but Suguru knew better than to question her when it came to drinking –, and he did his best to focus on the conversation around him.

One of their classmates was pregnant. He was drinking sparkling water next to his mate.

Another one was on their third job in the span of three months. 

One other had chosen to do her master’s instead, much like Gojo, and was complaining about the workload. “It’s easy for you guys,” she whined, looking utterly exhausted, “you finish work and that’s it. I still need to go study after this…”

“Hey we work overtime a lot,” one of their classmates interjected, looking equally exhausted. “I never thought being a tax consultant would be so–”

“You seem distracted,” Shoko commented, a couple of hours later, after Suguru turned his head in the direction of the door for what had to be the 572nd time already. “Waiting for someone?”

“Not particularly,” he lied, giving her his best customer service smile. 

“You keep looking at the door,” she pointed out, with a secretive little smile on her face. Then, pulling out a cigarette from her nearly empty pack, “I can go smoke this outside if you want so you can come with and see whoever it is you’re waiting for sooner.”

Suguru’s smile thinned. “That won’t be necessary.”

Shrugging, Shoko lit the cigarette right there, turning back to the table. “Suit yourself,” she said, dragging the ashtray back towards her while keeping the cigarette between her pointer and middle fingers. “I’m happy to keep pretending you’re not waiting for Gojo.”

His smile froze in his place at her words. “What do you mean?”

“It’s obvious,” she said, keeping her voice low so no one would overhear. Suguru was doubtful they would even if she spoke loudly; everyone was shouting around them. “You asked about him the other day and now you keep staring at the door. It’s okay to admit you want to see him, you know?”

What on earth…? “Shoko,” he started, trying to keep a pleasant smile on his face, “Gojo and I never got along in all four years of university. Why would I want to see him?”

“You know,” she said, looking at one of the paper lanterns adorning the wall, pensively, “I always thought you would have been best friends if you didn’t decide to hate him so soon. I don’t think Gojo respected anyone else during that time.”

Suguru scoffed, taking a hearty sip of his beer at that. “You think he respected me? Please.”

“You were the only one he saw as his equal,” she clarified, before taking a long drag of her cigarette, eyes closed in what Suguru imagined had to be bliss. “You were both top of your classes, neck for neck in basketball… you could have been great together.”

In more ways than one, probably. 

“He was a dick,” he muttered, more to himself than necessarily to Shoko, but based on the laugh she let out she seemed to hear him all the same.

“So were you,” she pointed out.

She was right. Maybe he and Gojo could have been friends, if he hadn’t fixated so much on all of his faults after that one disastrous party. He wondered if they would have ended up much the same as they had if they’d been friends, celebrating after games in the locker room alone. Maybe they would have ended up in Gojo’s bed much sooner if so. Maybe not at all. 

Suguru’s phone buzzed in his pocket but he paid it no mind, too wrapped up in his thoughts of the past and what ifs. 

Much too soon, he realized he needed to leave. It was late and he had an early meeting the next day with his manager and one of their investors, and Gojo wasn’t there yet. 

He waited until as late as he possibly could, stretching the time, telling himself he was being an idiot for doing so in the first place, but eventually he couldn’t keep waiting any longer. 

“I have to go,” he announced, at half past ten, knowing full well he’d get home near midnight while still needing to shower and wake up at 6am.

“You sure?” Shoko asked, looking faintly amused. “He should be here soon.”

He didn’t bother asking how she knew – she seemed to know a lot of things, all of the time, even if he hadn’t seen her touch her phone more than once the entire time, and he was fairly sure she’d only used it to text Utahime –, shaking his head quietly instead as he stood and started to gather his things. “I have an early meeting,” he said. “Really can’t afford to be late.”

On his way back to the subway, he told himself he wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t. He’d gone to that reunion with zero expectations of anything beyond a pleasant time with some old faces and that was exactly what he’d gotten. 

If anything, the fact that Gojo hadn’t shown up only served as a further sign that Suguru had been right: thinking whatever had been between them could be something more than a weird sort of situationship that was long past its expiration date was nothing but a delusion.

So Suguru rode the subway home and then he walked back to his studio apartment, not bothering to do anything but kick off his clothes and slide into the shower, eager for his night to be over. He was pleasantly buzzed from all the beer and sake so he wasn’t worried about having trouble sleeping.

It was only when he was in bed, ready to pass out at any minute, that he saw Gojo had texted him. Multiple times.

Gojo Satoru (19:54:21)

you already there? i’m gonna be late

need to meet my supervising professor can you believe it

anyway hope you stick around so i can catch you

Gojo Satoru (20:37:16)

need to go to the lab with my prof but i’ll be there soon

are you still there

Gojo Satoru (22:05:43)

i can’t believe that took that long, i’m sorry :( 

i’m on my way

No. He couldn’t believe it. The very last text had been–

Gojo Satoru (22:39:10)

just got here

oh

did you leave?

Stomach full of dread, Suguru turned to lie on his side, staring at Gojo’s texts until his screen turned off by itself. His heart was racing in his chest but he genuinely didn’t know why. 

It was just… they’d been so close. Gojo had gotten there some five minutes after he’d left. He’d probably Ubered or gotten there some other way because they hadn’t run into each other on his way back to the subway station.

If Suguru had waited just a few more minutes they would have seen each other. 

They’d missed each other by–

Are you sure you want to block this contact?

Yes No

Suguru clicked ‘Yes’ and turned around to face away from his phone. 

☾

Suguru met Shoko for lunch the week after the reunion. She’d insisted on it. Something something about how Suguru was too busy being a hot shot at work – hardly, he was just… very overworked – and how she may or may not have some gossip to spread.

Since when do you gossip, he’d asked, in their text thread, but he’d been left on read. Their conversation had only been resurrected the next day when she sent him a link to the place she wanted to go to, a date and a time. Meet me there, she’d said, so all he could do was agree.

Two days later he was moving things around at work in an effort to take a longer lunch break.

Shoko had invited him for lunch at a small sandwich shop near campus since her schedule was tighter than his and she needed to be in and out of campus quickly. It wasn’t close to Suguru’s work at all, but he’d managed to sort it out seeing as he’d need to go to a meeting with one of the associations they were partnering with anyway after lunch, and their office was on the way back to his workplace. 

Ridiculously enough, his stomach fluttered all the way up to the sandwich shop. It had taken to doing that ever since the izakaya reunion; now, every time he was anywhere near campus or even outside of it he’d find himself looking around, unconsciously searching for a head of white hair. 

It wasn’t anything he did because he wanted to but it happened anyway. Ever since that night, he always hoped to see Gojo Satoru around the corner.

Now, he resignedly admitted to himself he half hoped Shoko had invited Gojo to lunch with them in an effort to get them to talk since she’d noticed he’d been waiting for him to show anyway. Her sentence about having gossip to spread had made him suspicious.

When he got to the sandwich shop, however, there was no Gojo sitting next to Shoko. Instead, Shoko was already waving him over, looking bright and sharp despite the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Yo,” he greeted, taking the seat across from her. “How long do you have?”

“45 minutes, give or take,” she told him, already waving over the waitress. “Here’s the menu.”

Scanning through the menu quickly, Suguru ended up deciding on a simple chicken sandwich, hoping it would be enough to last him through the end of his workday. As soon as the waitress was gone Shoko turned to him immediately, donning a sly look on her face.

“I saw him,” she announced, like Suguru was expected to immediately know what she meant. Unfortunately, he had an idea.

Still, “Who?” he asked, plastering on a fake confused smile. 

“You know who,” she said, letting her back fall back against the chair. “Gojo. He showed up at the izakaya right after you left.”

He was sorely aware of that fact. He’d stared at Gojo’s texts over and over again ever since that night, finger hovering over the unblock button more than he cared to admit. Still, he hadn’t thought about the fact that Shoko would have likely still caught him. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “You know–”

“You asked about him,” she interjected, keeping her voice light. “Stop acting like you don’t care.”

His smile tightened in his face but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he let Shoko do the talking and tell him all about how disappointed Gojo had looked when he’d stepped into the izakaya to find Suguru was no longer there.

“He asked about you too,” she told him, pausing only for long enough for their waitress to bring over their drinks. “Said he tried to get there sooner but some professor was holding him up… Whatever,” she trailed off, waving her hand in dismissal. “What matters is, he didn’t look too hot.”

Suguru paused. Looked at her oddly. “You thought he was hot before?”

Shoko rolled her eyes, fingers twitching on top of the table. She wanted to smoke. A tell tale sign. “I mean he didn’t look good, not that he didn’t look hot hot,” she explained. “Look, do you want to know or not?”

“Know what?”

“I talked to Fushiguro after that,” she explained. 

“Why were you talking to Fushiguro, of all people?” he asked, befuddled.

“Fushiguro’s in med school too, I see him all the time,” she clarified, quickly, wanting to move on to the actual juicy bit. This was the gossip she’d referred to, apparently. “Listen, Fushiguro was talking to his boyfriend and he says Gojo’s depressed–”

“Wait, they’re official now?” he interrupted, mindlessly.

Shoko paused. Blinked. “Haven’t they always been?”

No. No, they hadn’t always been, probably still weren’t. And truthfully, it didn’t really matter. Wasn’t important. What was important was—

“What do you mean Gojo’s depressed?”

And here was the piece of juicy gossip, as it turned out: Gojo Satoru had been told by his parents that he was going to get married to an omega they’d picked out for him, and Gojo–

“Rejected him,” Shoko announced, slapping her hand down on the table. 

Suguru gaped at her, not even trying to hide his surprise. “What do you mean he rejected him? What about– what about his parents?”

“Well–”

Their waitress arrived before they could continue, setting down their plates in front of them and asking if they needed anything else. Shoko waved her off politely and immediately dove in to take a big bite of the sandwich, with Suguru’s avid eyes watching her every movement.

“Stop staring,” she said, words half muffled by her chewing.

“You were telling me about Gojo,” he urged her, picking up his own sandwich but not taking a bite yet. “About his parents’ reactions?”

Humming, Shoko put her sandwich back down and reached for her napkin, dabbing her mouth with it. “Right, right. So, apparently he caused a big uproar,” she told him, nodding pensively. “Yeah, Fushiguro told me his parents wanted to disown him or at least, like, cut him off, but Gojo said ‘fine’ which just made it worse.”

Gojo said ‘fine’ to being cut off? Disowned? To no longer having the luxury lifestyle he’d been used to so far? And all just so he wouldn’t marry an omega his parents chose for him?

“I can’t believe he was fine with it,” he mumbled, more to himself than necessarily for Shoko, though she seemed to have heard him just right, based on her laugh.

“Me neither,” she admitted. “Fushiguro said Ryomen thinks Gojo’s in love,” Suguru scoffed, ready to laugh at the idea, but then Shoko added, “and was rejected,” and he quietly settled down. 

Sukuna’s reading of the situation was uncomfortably close to reality.

“And what does Fushiguro think?” he asked, trying to steer her away from that. “Or you, for that matter?”

Shoko shrugged, taking a hearty sip of her fizzy pop. “We think what everyone else seems to think – that Ryomen’s theory is a load of crap. Gojo just doesn’t want to settle down with anyone, let alone someone he can’t choose for himself.”

Maybe.

Or maybe… Gojo hadn’t been lying. Maybe Gojo really did love him, enough to turn him off the archaic ideas he’d been taught while growing up about having to marry an omega, and enough to be willing to walk away from his privilege.

Maybe now Suguru was the one lying to himself, wanting to believe things that were simply not only not true, but also incoherent. 

Lunch was over sooner than he would have hoped, with Shoko needing to leave to go back to campus and Suguru needing to make his way to his meeting. 

He was pensive throughout the entire subway ride, feeling so conflicted about what he’d heard that he was starting to make himself nauseous.

Gojo… he’d really—

“Are you okay Geto-kun?” his manager asked him, once they were done with their meeting.

It had been a relatively short one, nothing but a regular catch up to discuss the progress on their initiatives and any points that might have come up since their last one, and Suguru was well aware he hadn’t been his usual self. He was fidgety and spacey, his mind firmly still back at the restaurant. 

“You seem pale,” she continued, frowning in concern.

“I think my lunch just didn’t agree with me,” he told her, donning his usual customer service smile. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

The truth was, he had an itch. An itch growing steadily under his skin, quickly spreading through his whole body. He wanted—

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off,” she suggested, as they both stood near the entrance to the subway station. She wouldn’t be going back to the office, he knew; needed to meet an investor afterwards. “It’s the end of the week, anyway. No harm in getting a head start on the weekend, especially when you’re clearly unwell.”

Suguru hesitated. “Are you sure?”

She was. She was so sure that she waved him off, told him to rest up and take care, and then hurriedly made her way inside the station, rushing to take the next subway in the green line.

As for him, well. Suguru wasn’t sure what he should do.

The itch was still there, ever present, reminding him that he had something he wanted to do. He wanted—

He wanted—

He really wanted to see Gojo Satoru.

There were two possible lines he could take, all things considered. He could take the yellow one and then switch to the purple one, and make his way home like he should. Rest up. Watch a movie. Maybe even take a nap before dinner. He could order in or whip up something quick, depending on how he felt.

Or…

Or he could take the blue line directly to Gojo’s neighborhood. 

Suguru stood there, immobile, barely noticing the throngs of people sidestepping him so they could get to where they wanted. 

The choice ended up being easier than he’d expected.

☾

Suguru took the blue line.

☾

The trip to Gojo’s neighborhood was faster than he expected.  

Even though he’d only been there once he was still able to navigate it easily, his feet getting him to the massive front door of Gojo’s building in no time. 

Gojo’s family was loaded, so it only made sense that they’d not only splurged on a nice apartment for their heir, but that said apartment was in a building with a concierge. Suguru hadn’t needed to talk to anyone the first and only time he’d been there, having gone in with Gojo himself, but this time he took a deep breath before walking into the building, straight towards the concierge desk.

“Name, please?”

“Geto Suguru,” he said, feeling oddly nervous. He stood out so much, even now. All the concierge had to do was take one look at him and he’d know he shouldn’t be there. “I’m here to see–”

“–Gojo Satoru,” the concierge finished for him. “You’re in the permitted list. Feel free to go up.”

Blinking in surprise, Suguru nodded back before making his way to the elevators. Gojo had added him to the list of allowed visitors? When had he done that?

Had it been after his visit, hoping Suguru would come back? Had it– been before…?

It didn’t matter. He had bigger things to worry about, like the fact that he had no idea if Gojo was even home. He didn’t know his schedule this semester, had no way of finding out other than unblocking him and letting him know he was there waiting for him, but that idea made him sick to his stomach. 

If Gojo wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure he’d be brave enough to stay and keep from turning right back around.

The ride up to the 40th floor was much slower than he remembered it to be this time, and with every floor they zoomed past Suguru’s stomach did a little nervous swoop, the contents of his earlier lunch jostling so much in there he was worried they were going to come out the minute he arrived at his destination.

Instead, when he arrived at Gojo's floor all he felt was an unbearable warmth rising up his neck, his ears, blood rushing to his ears as he walked to his front door. 

He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to say.

Ring!

He was pressing the doorbell before he could second guess himself, swallowing dryly as he took a step back and waited. 

When Gojo didn’t answer straight away, Suguru took another step back. He’d– tried. He’d been impulsive. He should have just unblocked him and texted him like a normal person, not shown up at his doorstep–

“Suguru?” 

Gojo’s door was slammed open all of a sudden, and a wild eyed Gojo showed up, donning rumpled workout clothes and a shocked look on his face. 

“Hey, Satoru,” he greeted, calmly, casually, like he was used to showing up at his doorstep every day. When Gojo didn’t respond straight away he straightened his back, looked around the hallway, “So, how are you?”

“The concierge called to tell me you were coming up,” he said, in lieu of answering his question. “I thought someone was pranking me pretending to be you, but you’re actually… here.”

Suguru blinked in surprise. Was that why he looked so frazzled? “Is this a bad time?”

“Of course not.”

The front door opened wider and Gojo motioned for him to step inside. The wild eyed look stayed the whole time Suguru took off his shoes, placing them neatly by the front door, like he still couldn’t quite believe Suguru was standing there.

Given how their last conversation had gone, Suguru shouldn’t be so surprised. 

“What are you doing here?” Gojo asked, as soon as Suguru took a seat on one end of the large L shaped couch. Gojo remained standing, looming over him.

“Aren’t you going to sit too?” he asked, slightly disconcerted.

“Suguru.”

Suguru gave him a look, but Gojo didn’t back down. Fine. “I came here to talk to you. About… last time.”

Gojo crossed his arms and looked down at him with a surprisingly even expression. “Talk, then.”

Fidgeting in his seat, Suguru thought about what to say. Maybe he should really have thought this through a little bit more before rushing in without a plan, but now he was here and he was going to have to figure it out, even if it meant the words wouldn’t come out quite as right as they should. 

First and foremost, “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, fingers twitching restlessly on his lap. “I was a bit harsh.”

The other alpha let out a bitter chuckle, but remained quiet otherwise. 

“I mean it,” he continued, digging his fingers tightly onto his knees. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since then, and I… I was just caught by surprise. Satoru, how was I supposed to know you felt that way about me the whole time?”

Satoru inhaled sharply, mouth twisting into a frown, before finally uncrossing his arms and going over to sit on the other end of the couch. Still far, but close enough that Suguru could tell he was wearing scent blockers. It was a shame. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Satoru admitted, draping his body over the long chaise of the couch and falling back on the pillows. “I don’t think I handled that very well.”

Suguru turned his body to face him more fully, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a small smile. “Shoko said she thinks we could have been friends if we weren’t such idiots.”

“I was an idiot,” Satoru conceded, a small smile pulling at his lips too, “you were just stubborn.”

A little. Even now he was so stubborn he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

“I think she’s right,” he admitted that much, struggling to maintain eye contact with Satoru. “I labeled you one way in my head and from that point onwards I just couldn’t admit to myself that you were capable of change. Now that I was able to take a step back and look at it differently, I can see how you changed during the years. You were still a dick,” he added, earning himself a laugh from Satoru, “but you weren’t… quite as bad as you were that first year.”

Satoru chuckled, letting his weight sink further into the pillows. “I’ve never been great with people and to be honest I haven’t made much of an effort to be better either,” he mused, staring up at the ceiling. “You were the first person I genuinely wanted to impress, and I fucked it up.”

Suguru let out a small laugh, feeling something begin to warm in his chest. “You did,” he agreed. “Then again, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t like that.” And I wouldn’t like you so much.

His heart beat fast in his chest as he realized that was all he had to say. All that was left to say. I like you. I miss you. I miss you so much I can’t sleep even if I never really had you in the first place.

“Well,” Satoru started, crossing his arms underneath his head, turning his face so he could look at him directly, “fat lot of good that did me. You hated me the entire time.” Then, quieter, “I’m sorry too.”

A knot formed in his throat at those words but he pushed past it, struggling to get the words out anyway. “Do you still feel the same way about me?”

Satoru seemed to pause at that, blinking in surprise. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Suguru’s fingers twitched in his lap again, despite his best efforts to keep himself composed. “It’s been three months,” he said, like that was supposed to mean anything. Like he hadn’t been yearning all the same. “At first I thought you were just… confusing things,” he explained. “I was your most long term relationship, even if we didn’t really have a relationship, and I just thought–”

Sitting up, Satoru fixed him with a serious look. “You thought wrong. There’s nothing confusing about the way I feel about you. I’ve always known. It’s always been you.”

His words were so corny, such a cliché, but Suguru felt his heart fluttering uselessly in his chest all the same, cheeks going red at Satoru’s words. “That’s too much,” he whispered, at a loss for words. 

“It’s just how I feel.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he wondered where to go from there. How to desperately get the words out, no matter how difficult it seemed. “I don’t love you,” he blurted out, eyes widening as soon as the words were out. Satoru didn’t seem fazed by it, but Suguru was mortified. “What I mean is– I don’t love you yet, I don’t think so, I’ve never– I’ve never felt that way about anyone before,” he added, rushing to get the words out. “And yet, I– I like you,” he finally said, fingers digging so deep into his kneecaps he was worried he’d tear through the fabric. “I like you and I’ve missed you so much.”

If Satoru didn’t seem fazed before, he was definitely shocked now. His lips were parted in surprise and his eyes were wide, innocent-like, and Suguru– 

Suguru really wanted to kiss him. 

“Are you–?” Satoru started to ask, but Suguru was already inching closer and closer to him on the couch, not caring in the least that he looked awkward or desperate or anything like that. He just wanted–

“Yeah,” he breathed out, before crashing his lips onto his. 

Satoru immediately reciprocated, no hesitation whatsoever, arms winding tight around his waist to pull him closer to him. Suguru kissed him desperately, breathlessly, ending up on his lap before he knew it, their bodies slotting together perfectly. They always had. He’d just been trying really hard not to see what was in front of him the whole time. 

“Off, off,” he murmured, the edges of fingers peeling at the edges of Satoru’s scent blocker, the one on his neck, peeling it off in one go. Satoru’s scent immediately trickled out, filling his senses in full force, and Suguru latched his mouth onto his neck, lapping at the oils oozing from his scent gland. 

His scent had faded from his leather jacket, but it hadn’t faded from his memory. It was just as good as he remembered it to be.

“Suguru,” Satoru mumbled, mindlessly, peeling off his scent blocker too and burying his head in his nose, taking in a deep breath. “God, Suguru… I missed you so fucking much.”

They kissed again, just as frantic and just as desperate, before their kisses slowed, becoming deeper and more deliberate. Their clothes were rumpled and their hands were everywhere, slipping under shirts and teasing at waistbands, but the desperation slowly faded, giving way to something softer. 

When they finally pulled away to look at each other, Suguru stared at Satoru in wonder, not really knowing what to say. 

“So what do we do now?” he asked, feeling fairly out of his depth. 

Satoru looked at him, a spark bright in his eyes. “What do you say we go on a date?”

☾

Satoru and Suguru’s first date was a little all over the place. 

Neither of them had much experience dating. Satoru’s experience, as it turned out, consisted solely of the dates his parents mandated him to go on with omegas throughout the years, which were all in places that were far too fancy for either of their tastes. Suguru’s experience, on the other hand, was limited to his one and only boyfriend, who he’d dated for less than a month and whose dates had always been at the café near campus or at the movie theatre.

“You know what I haven’t done in a while?” Satoru asked, stretching his long arms above his head as they stood in front of his building, trying to decide what to do. He’d since taken a quick shower and changed into actual clothes – a t-shirt and shorts, since it was warm out –, and he was donning his signature sunglasses. Suguru had missed even that, incredibly enough. 

“What?” he asked, finding it hard to look away. 

“Suguru,” Satoru said, turning to him with a very serious look on his face. “When was the last time you went to an arcade?”

So they went to an arcade. 

Satoru was gloating the entire subway ride there, telling him he’d always gotten top scores and ‘don’t be discouraged if you lose against me, Suguru-chan! I’m just really really good’, and then they’d actually gotten into it and he’d quickly realized Suguru wasn’t his top rival just in basketball – he was his top rival in arcade games too.

“What the fuck,” he lamented, after losing three straight rounds against him, “so you were lying to me. Clearly you come here all the time!”

Suguru gave him a fake smile – he didn’t, but Satoru didn’t need to know that – and Satoru simply stuck out his tongue at him in retaliation, before turning away from the arcade machine with a pout. 

They were both hungry by the time they left the arcade, neither of them having eaten anything since lunch time, so they wandered around together looking for a street market or any kind of summer fair. They were fairly common during summer time, and it was usual for there to always be one or the other in every corner, so it didn’t take long for them to find a bustling street market.

Satoru tried to get away with eating only sweets but Suguru reprimanded him, practically having to drag him away from the sweets stands and towards the actual food stands instead, telling him he could eat dessert afterwards.

“But Suguru,” he whined, trying to look as pitiful as possible. It didn’t work. 

Suguru ordered them both food and then they sat at one of the large communal tables set in the middle of the street. Conversation flowed easily, despite the ‘enemy’ status they’d maintained in the past four years.

Satoru told him about how his master’s was going and the latest developments in the Sukuna-Fushiguro story – apparently, Sukuna’s brother had finally found out. Suguru had commented once or twice that he thought Itadori already knew but was acting stupid but, as it turned out, he really hadn’t known – and Suguru told him about his job and some of the people he’d met through it. 

“I really thought you’d leave,” Satoru confessed, later, holding a tayaki in one hand and a stick of dango in the other as they walked back along the river bank, making the trek back to his apartment on foot. “Tokyo, I mean.”

“I considered it,” he confirmed, smiling when Satoru offered him his dango. “I had an offer, actually. There was this really nice job near Sapporo, but…” he trailed off, stealing a quick look at Satoru. “Thinking about leaving Tokyo behind was too difficult.”

The other alpha didn’t ask why and he didn’t offer it either way. After everything they’d talked about that day, it should be obvious.

When they got back to Satoru’s apartment building he didn’t even need to ask if he’d stay here; Suguru followed him upstairs easily, both of them standing in the elevator in comfortable silence, exhausted from all the walking. 

“Can I take a shower?” he asked, feeling oddly shy once they were all alone again, as though it was their first time all over again. 

“Sure,” Satoru said, walking him into the bedroom. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

Suguru showered quickly but thoroughly, cleaning himself as best as he could. It’d been a good while since he’d done anything and there were butterflies flitting around in his stomach at the thought of sliding into bed next to Satoru.

It was new but also not at the same time, and he felt a little bit like a teenager with his first crush. In a way, he kind of was. Apart from that one alpha before he started university, well, the only person who had ever truly given Suguru butterflies was Satoru. In more ways than one.

“Hey,” he whispered, standing next to Satoru’s bed, clad in nothing but soft cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt, smelling overwhelmingly like Satoru. He felt claimed in every way but one, and the thought wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. 

Satoru was already in bed, bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers – it was already too warm at night, he’d told him earlier –, scrolling on his phone. “Hey,” he greeted, looking up from his phone and patting the empty space next to him. “I plugged in your phone just in case.”

“Oh thanks.” His battery wasn’t very depleted, but he kept it plugged anyway. There was a giddy feeling spreading through his body at how much thought Satoru had given him, even if it was something as small as remembering to plug in his phone before bed. “What are you doing?”

“Tiktok,” he replied, angling his phone towards him. “Can you unblock me now? I have some reels I want to send you.”

Suguru let out a laugh, suddenly remembering he’d gone and confessed his feelings to Satoru and gone on a date with him afterwards while keeping him blocked everywhere the whole time, and then he picked up his phone and did exactly that. Less than one minute later, he was getting a text from Satoru

Gojo Satoru (21:47:12)

i love you

suguboo 🤍🤍

Satoru leaned over and frowned. “Change my name,” he whined, shoving his own phone into his hands so he could see the way he’d named him ‘Suguchan 🖤’ in his own phone. Ridiculous.

“Does it matter?” he asked, but he changed it anyway. ‘Satoru 🤍’, it read now, even if he still felt like a teenager the whole time. He didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing. 

They watched tiktoks on Satoru’s phone for some time, laughing loudly at some and pondering whether they could pull off certain workouts in others, and after a while Suguru was… restless. His fingers trailed slow circles over Satoru’s bare skin and he looked up at Satoru while giving him best ‘fuck me’ eyes, yet Satoru never took the bait. 

When he decided to push out some of his pheromones in an effort to give him a more explicit hint, all the while starting to place soft, open mouthed kisses along any skin he could reach, Satoru finally reacted. “Are you sure?” he asked, with something akin to trepidation in his voice. “I don’t want you to think this is all I–”

“I don’t think that,” he told him, hurriedly, and Satoru only muttered a small “oh, thank fuck,” before they were diving into each other, lips meeting in the middle. 

Earlier that evening, as they had dinner together, Suguru had imagined they’d take their time with each other the first time they had sex again. Slow kisses, lingering touches, the whole nine. He didn’t go as far as to think there would be candles and slow music because neither of them were quite the type, but he’d thought, maybe–

He was wrong. They were both so desperate for each other, not having felt each other’s touch in three months, that by the end of it Suguru was surprised they managed to last long at all.

Their clothed cocks rutted together as they kissed, licking into each other’s mouths filthily, precum leaking and staining the front of their boxers. Satoru rutted the head of his cock against Suguru’s hole once their boxers were off, smearing his precum everywhere, and Suguru looked at him with wild eyes and begged him, “Just put it in.”

“Suguru,” was all he said, in a strangled voice, ignoring him and reaching for the bottle of lube in his nightstand anyway. “You can’t fucking say that shit to me right now.”

Prep was quick and dirty, lube smeared everywhere and dribbling down his hole, mixing with Satoru’s spit from when he couldn’t resist and ate him out, fucking his tongue into his hole as Suguru tried to fuck himself back. 

“Satoru, please,” he whined, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to pull him away. “Please, fuck, I need–”

Satoru finally complied and slid into him in one smooth thrust, stretching Suguru beyond belief, letting out a low groan. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he bemoaned, bending down so he could distract himself by lapping at his scent gland, leaving little nibbles around it. “God Suguru, you’re tighter than before. Fuck, have you been saving yourself for me?”

“Yeah,” he mewled out, already looking up at him with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He was so full, certain that if Satoru were to move even an inch his insides would be rearranged forever and there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it. “Satoru, please–” he pleaded, not really knowing what he was pleading for anymore. Did he want Satoru to move? Did he want him to stay put? He didn’t know.

Fortunately, Satoru was happy to make the decision for him, because he slowly pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, so fast Suguru’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, overwhelmed.

Satoru fucked him hard and fast, setting a punishing pace from the start. He was stretching him so wide Suguru was sure his hole would be gaping and leaking for days. If Satoru knotted him enough during the weekend he wouldn’t even be able to sit during his meetings next week, his briefs and pants soiled from Satoru’s cum leaking out of it. 

Fuck. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Satoru murmured, eyes fully dark as he gazed down at him while he fucked into him, wild and intent. “God Suguru, I want– I want to do this every day,” he choked out, pace faltering as he neared orgasm, “keep you plugged up–”

“Yes,” he moaned, arching his back as he tried to meet his thrusts, head tilted back on the pillows. “I want you to cum inside me so many times I’m gonna be leaking your cum at the office on Monday morning,” and that was apparently the right thing to say because Satoru’s knot swelled near instantly, slapping against his rim with every thrust.

“You have such a filthy mouth, Suguru,” Satoru said, voice low, shifting slightly so he could angle himself better, hitting him dead on his prostate. “If you knew all the things I want to do to you…”

“Anything,” he groaned out, hand circling his own cock so he could pump it in time with Satoru’s thrusts, keeping a tight grip on his own knot. “S-Satoru, I–”

“I know, baby,” he told him, soothingly, pounding into him with abandon, “let– fuck, let go, baby, come on–”

Satoru’s knot popped past his rim the instant Suguru came, hole fluttering around his knot as he spilled all over himself, and it only took a few grinds of his knot into him before Satoru was cumming too, spilling warm cum deep into him.

They laid there panting in the aftermath, skin sticky with sweat, catching their breaths as they waited for Satoru’s knot to come down. 

“I hope you know,” Satoru said, conversationally, tracing a finger through the swell of the scent gland on his neck, “one day I’m gonna mark you here.”

Suguru’s breath hitched, and he stared at him in a mix of shock and embarrassment. “We started dating today,” he told him, disbelieving. “Who says something like that?”

Satoru shrugged, carefully shifting so his weight wasn’t on him and they could both lie on their sides, facing each other. “I’m telling you,” he said, fingers sliding up so he could cup his cheek, “I always knew.”

They took another shower, afterwards, together, and Satoru got so handsy they ended up jerking each other off in the shower, grimacing in the aftermath when a thick glob of cum refused to go down the drain.

“I’m not cleaning that,” Suguru told him, voice flat. 

“Me neither,” Satoru said, cheekily, hugging him from behind. “I have a maid coming in to do that, you know?”

Figured.

They brushed their teeth side by side once they were done, stray droplets of water running down their necks from their still damp hair, and Satoru pouted the whole time when Suguru made him change his sheets, telling him there was no way he was sleeping on them. 

“They’re fine,” Satoru insisted, despite the several damp spots visible everywhere.

“It’s summer,” Suguru pointed out, eye twitching with annoyance. “Be serious.”

He wasn’t seriously annoyed, though. It was funny, he mused, once there were dry, fresh sheets on the bed and they were lying in silence, legs tangled together despite the stifling summer heat and nothing but the low hum of the air conditioner to keep them company, how much Satoru didn’t annoy him anymore now that he’d allowed himself to accept his feelings for him. 

He wished it hadn’t taken him so long to get there. 

“Hey, Satoru,” he whispered, kissing him softly on the cheek. Satoru’s eyelashes fluttered open, and he stared at him sleepily.

“Wha’sup?” he asked, words slurring. 

“I like you,” he whispered, smiling at the way Satoru’s eyes instantly softened. “A lot.”

“Mhmmmm,” he hummed, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too, Suguru,” and then he was out like a light, eyes stubbornly closing again as he drifted off to sleep. 

For the first time in months, Suguru’s stomach wasn’t tied into knots at the mere thought of Satoru. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, Suguru couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. And, for the first time in years, Suguru let himself drift off to sleep, content in the knowledge that Satoru would be right there when he woke up.