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Getou Suguru’s favourite thing to do in this world is to get under Gojo Satoru’s skin, which is how it all begins.
“Look here.” Suguru says, waits for Satoru to roll his eyes behind his blue-tinted sunglasses before ultimately coming anyways. He sits where Suguru pats the mattress right between his spread legs, Satoru looking at himself in the mirror before them as a pleased grin spreads on his face.
“Nice view.” Satoru says, and Suguru nods, pulling the man’s sunglasses gently off his face before placing them on his own head as he moves out of the mirror’s frame and sits on the ottoman bench to his side to watch Satoru.
He is gorgeous, Suguru thinks. The most beautiful and simultaneously handsome person he has ever seen in his entire life, and he gets to have him all to himself.
What does Suguru do with the privilege? Evil, of course.
“This is how ugly and bleak my world would look without you in it.” He says in a saccharine voice, gesturing to the mirror.
It’s not uncommon for him to be soft and sweet with Satoru from time to time, his boyfriend a man who loves affections and compliments, so he isn’t surprised to see the faint blush that covers the man’s cheeks as he processes the words — slowly, very slowly, but surely.
Suguru grins, his eyes making half moons as he waits for the inevitable, and soon enough Satoru’s smile is faltering, his brows pinching together as he processes the full meaning of his so phrased compliment. Suguru laughs then, slaps Satoru’s shoulder even though he knows it won’t connect with his infinity up, and bends over in hysteria at his own joke.
“Get it? Cause you’re ugly.” He explains, and when he looks back up to find Satoru frowning at him, he doubles over again and chortles, snorting atrociously.
“You know, a joke loses all humour and becomes quite dull once it’s explained.” Satoru drawls, plucking his sunglasses from Suguru’s head and placing them back on himself.
“Oh,” Suguru gasps, feigning surprise. “I didn’t think you’d get it. You’re a touch slow, so..”
It’s a blatant lie, Satoru being one of the smartest people Suguru has ever met, but messing with the man is his favourite past time. He can’t help it.
It’s like randomly waking up in the middle of the night at three am and being absolutely parched, and then you see the ice cold glass of water you got before passing out that’s started to frost over with condensation, sitting there ready for the taking — a fresh, clean oasis that promises you reprieve in the dry scarcity of the desert. It’s almost impossible to pass up the temptation.
Similarly, that’s exactly how Suguru feels moments later — parched and wanting, and a little desperate for the oasis that is his boyfriend.
Satoru turns from the mirror to face him better, leaning in close enough for Suguru to smell - all but taste - the minty gum he chews noisily — blows and pops a bubble just before his face as he cocks his head to the side curiously. Close enough for Suguru to see the bright blues of his eyes over the rims of his glasses’ frames; impossibly bight celeste and aqua skies that fissure into the deep sapphires and berry blues of the sea. Suguru feels lost in it.
The Six Eyes are beautiful; that is an indisputable fact. No matter your preference they will give you pause, leaving you to stare into the abyss as the abyss gazes back into you, but Gojo Satoru himself does the enchanting eyes great justice as well.
“You know you love looking at me.” He says, leaning closer and closer still.
And then, just as Suguru finally gives into the undeniable pull, just as he begins to follow the magnetic force ceaselessly tugging him towards Satoru’s glossy, pale pink lips, the man pulls back and yawns, stretching his arms over his head — and ah, Suguru thinks, of course the oasis was just a mirage in the heat.
“Tch,” Suguru scoffs when his lips meet air, sitting back up right on the ottoman as he raises a brow at the smug whiter-than-platinum, frosty haired man before him. “Still an ugly personality.” He murmurs, and he rolls his eyes when Satoru gasps, mocking Suguru’s earlier feigned surprise.
And then the man is standing from his spot at the foot of the bed, putting his knees on either side of Suguru’s lap as he sits. He hovers for a moment, which looks a bit ridiculous, but then he drops his infinity and his entire weight is dropped onto Suguru’s lap as the grown man laughs like a child when he grunts.
“You love my personality too.” He says, and this time, when he leans in close, Suguru doesn’t let him get away. Their lips meet in a slow and passionate kiss despite their choice of words, and Satoru might be right.
He is right.
Satoru pulls the long strands of black hair back that he always seems to find an excuse to get his fingers into - to curl his digits around or idly twist and braid into silly designs - coaxing Suguru’s lips open for him, and then there’s a warm and soft tongue exploring his mouth and Suguru feels his stomach flip.
His hands find their way onto Satoru’s skin, smooth and hairless under the glide of his fingers. He slides his way up the backs of Satoru’s calves, over the fabric of the knee length shorts he wears and up and up and up, pressing his way under the ridiculous cat-lady shirt he said reminds him of Suguru when he first arrived at his apartment earlier today. Suguru doesn’t even own a single cat, but he supposes it was more a reference to his vast reserve of cursed spirits.
Arriving meaning unannounced and completely uninvited mind you, of course. Satoru barging into his apartment without so much as a knock before laying himself down in Suguru’s bed beside him as he sleepily grumbled about how he’d never even given him his spare key. Satoru had simply shushed him, laying a kiss to his forehead and then to his lips. Then he began going on about the shopping spree he’d already went on for the day despite the early hour, showing off the souvenirs he’d picked up.
Including, but not limited to, the herby cream cheese filled cronut Suguru was forced to try for breakfast, which hadn’t been half bad, and his favourite restaurant’s tea to go.
Okay, so maybe Gojo Satoru can be effortlessly thoughtful, and maybe Getou Suguru absolutely loves and adores that about him, but that doesn’t stop Suguru from being annoyed with him for waking him up so needlessly early just because Satoru decided to drop by New York City at six am their time.
That’s only seven pm in New York, Suguru is well aware. The big baby in his lap could have gone later if he wanted to; he’s sure The City That Never Sleeps doesn’t have an early curfew…
When Satoru pulls away from the kiss, he grins in delight as Suguru happily chews the minty gum he’s left on his tongue for him. It’s still full of favour, Suguru finds.
“Maybe I just have bad taste.” He says, in response to Satoru’s earlier taunt. “Have you ever thought of that?”
Satoru leans in to press his forehead flush against Suguru’s, unperturbed as his black bangs tickle the pale bridge of his perfect nose. “Oh, I’ve definitely considered the idea. I’m terrible; you really ought to do better.”
Suguru blows a bubble with Satoru’s gum, smirking when it grows big enough to stick to the man’s face. He’s disappointed, but not surprised, when the bubble pops against a wall of Satoru’s infinity, leaving his flawless and unimpressed face untouched and free of the sticky, confectionery treat.
Suguru sighs.
“Though, you’re pretty terrible yourself.” Satoru says then, smiles evilly. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other!”
“I would dump you in an instant if it meant you would actually leave me alone.” Suguru deadpans.
Another lie.
Satoru beams from ear to ear like he’s just been given the most gratifying, personalized compliment in the world. “Is that a love confession I hear?”
Suguru rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest when Satoru drapes his arms over his shoulders and around his neck, swaying him from side to side. “You hear whatever you wanna hear.”
“And you say whatever you don’t mean; aren’t we such a lovely pair?”
Suguru’s lips tug upwards into a defiant smirk at that. “In that case: I love you to the moon and back, infinitely.”
“Aww, my very own Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day. You’re making me blush!”
Suguru frowns, recalling that the Shakespeare sonnet Satoru chooses to reference - sonnet 18, and not at all the Sam McBratney book excerpt Suguru had used - is about a lover who is more beautiful and preferable than a summer’s day. His own name, Getou, literally meaning ‘hot summer’…
“You are an ass.” He groans, and Satoru smiles sweetly at him.
“So are you.” He says, and yes, to some degree, Suguru supposes he is right.
“You truly are my perfect match.”
Satoru leans in impossibly closer, his fingers coiled around a lock of Suguru’s inky, black hair again — never managing to last long before finding his hands there. He presses his lips to Suguru’s sun kissed, tan skin, peppering pecks along his cheek and jaw, and all the way up to the lobe of Suguru’s ear before tugging it between his teeth gently.
“My one and only,” he whispers, lacking the teasing, playful lilt that usually coats his voice and drips off his aura in thick, nearly palpable rivulets.
Its genuine authenticity makes Suguru’s eyes flutter shut as he grips the man’s hips tight, dull nails digging into the soft flesh just below the hem of his atrocious but utterly Satoru shirt; makes his chest squeeze; a knot form in his stomach; butterflies flap and flutter in his gut. He’s known Gojo Satoru for years, has been dating him for as long as he can remember, and yet, the man still manages to make Suguru get worked up so easily.
He turns his head, Satoru smiling when Suguru captures his lips in an another kiss, and this one is far softer than the last. Deliberate and leisurely, considerably more affectionate. Suguru holds him close, holds his annoying and ultimately perfect boyfriend tight. And yes, he thinks as Satoru giggles softly - adorably - in his lap, he truly does love this man to the moon and back, even if he had teased him about it just moments prior.
Suguru stands from his seat on the ottoman, hiking Satoru up higher in his hold as the man shrieks delightedly and laughs harder, his legs wrapping around Suguru’s hips as he walks them over to the bed. Satoru hums pleasantly when he’s laid back down against the mattress of Suguru’s bed. He tugs Suguru’s body down flush against himself greedily, or at least as close as Satoru can get them with their clothes still on, and Suguru finds that he’s the luckiest man in the world.
“Get it?” Satoru asks sleepily, already having to muffle his snicker as his naked body presses further into Suguru’s side under the covers. He’s warm against his skin.
“Hmm?” Suguru hums; runs a hand through Satoru’s soft, white strands when his head rests on his bare chest.
“Because your name means hot summer.”
Suguru blinks up at the ceiling, and if he weren’t already used to Gojo Satoru’s stupidity by now, he would have absolutely no clue what that man is talking about. It still takes him a moment to remember, groaning and turning to tangle his legs with Satoru’s when he recalls his earlier thinly veiled gibe using Willam Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18. Earlier, as in hours ago.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?” He mutters into a mess of cloudy hair.
Satoru sighs, pleased with himself. “And you love me for it.”
“That, I do.” A nod and a kiss to the crown of the head. “Aren’t you the one who said explaining the joke makes it tedious?”
Satoru’s lips press into the flesh of his pec, a soft kiss lying in his wake as he mouths against and nibbles at Suguru’s skin. “Yeah, but everyone knows it’s a negligible offence when it’s a hot guy who’s doing the mansplaining. Duh.”
It earns him a solid flick to the forehead, which Satoru accepts in stride even though he easily could have put up his infinity again, and for that fact alone Suguru leans down and kisses the reddening skin to sooth it. An apology of sorts, though the man definitely deserved it and then some.
“I hate you.”
It’s a lie. It is such a big, fat lie.
Satoru grins, looks back up into Suguru’s sharp, black eyes and stares at him like he’s his whole entire world. “I love you too.”
If when Suguru wakes up for the second time of the day Satoru is already up and dressed again, sitting on the ottoman bench at the foot of the bed with Shoko, - who Suguru definitely did not invite over to his apartment - showing her the gifts he got from France (when the hell had he gone to France??) as Suguru lays trapped underneath the blanket, utterly naked, then his love for the man is the only reason Suguru doesn’t summon one of his plentiful curses on them.
Eventually, though, he does grow bored of waiting and opts to just crawl out from under the sheets in his naked glory to go shower, Shoko having already seen him in far more precariously obscene situations.
When the two uninvited guests in his room shout and whistle and holler, Satoru producing a fat wad of cash from his wallet for the pair to make it rain like this is a damn strip club, he is happy to see that the pillows he sends lobbing for their heads actually makes both marks.
So, while it is Getou Suguru’s favourite thing to get under Gojo Satoru’s skin, it seems they both have that trait in common.