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Geto didn't remember when he'd ended up on the floor.
One moment he'd been sparring with Gojo, using all his energy to parry the everlasting onslaught of practiced attacks from the special grade's cursed technique, and the next he was on the floor with his cursed tool out of his hands and strewn somewhere across the room. But that didn't matter to him, not nearly as much as it probably should have. Not when the sole of a black sneaker was pressed into his chest, holding him down. Not when the owner of said shoe was beaming down at him like the literal sun, casting rays of light over his face.
Because fuck Satoru was gorgeous.
He was always gorgeous, so it's not like Geto really had any right to be suprised. Whether it was when he had just woken up in the morning, whether he was forcing Geto to join him on a late night trip to the corner store to buy a ridiculous amount of candy, or whether it was just him sat in class, feet on the desk like he had no respect for the rules and actively giving Yaga grief for trying to encourage the white-haired boy to study harder, Satoru always looked like a God had descended from the heavens. He was just so fucking beautiful.
But like this? After a sparring session. He was probably the living embodiment of the word.
"Hmm," Satoru began, voice taking on a teasing lilt. "I'd say I've won that one, wouldn't you?"
Geto didn't trust himself to speak, swallowing dryly and nodding. Because how could he possibly be expected to speak when the object of his affections was looking at him like that? All proud and smiley, as if he was on top of the world? Geto was drawn into his orbit like he was a planet circling the sun, helpless to do nothing but watch as he shed his light all over him, illuminating the darkness he was trapped in previously. Expecting him to speak simply wouldn't have been fair. Or realistic, for that matter.
Satoru, sneaker still digging into his chest, leaned forwards, head nearing just that bit closer to Geto's own. From this angle, Geto could see all his features, from the snowy-white fluff that was his hair to the luminescent blue eyes that were peeking over the edge of his sunglasses. The sheen of sweat covering his skin only enhanced everything that was already there, making him glow even in just the shitty fluorescent lighting of one of Tokyo Jujutsu High's many gyms.
"What?" He asked, giggling softly. "Cat got your tongue?"
Geto finally found it in himself to speak, even if it was only to defend himself. "Simply recuperating. You're a tough opponent." His voice was rougher than it was before the fight, though whether that was from the physical toll of the training or just the beauty in front of him, not even he knew.
"Aw you flatter me!" He said, grinning in a way that only made him light up more (although they both knew that was the answer Satoru had been expecting. Saying a fight with Satoru was easy was like saying the sky was purple. It didn't mean it wasn't fun though). "You're a good opponent as well." Satoru told him, "That's why we're the strongest, after all!"
Geto felt himself growing hotter at the praise. "Thanks." He murmered.
Satoru finally removed the sneaker (and Geto was horrified to realise he sort of missed having it on his chest), and held out his hand to help him up. He grabbed it, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Satoru's hand in his own so he could instead focus on actually getting up. Which may not actually last very long, because he felt like keeling over every time Satoru so much as looked his way, let alone when he smiled at him.
'Shit' He thought 'Why am I so weak for him'?
Satoru shrugged, "Well it's true." His face grew more serious for a moment. "Are you alright though? I doubt you'd let me seriously hurt you, and I was trying not to, but I just want to check. No injuries?"
Geto shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
He lit up once again, wrapping his arm around Geto's shoulder and laughing and everything in Geto's world fell into place again. "Well that's good isn't it? Means you can still spar with me in the future."
Oh what this man did to him.
In all honestly, Geto didn't really think it would be a good idea for him to spar with Satoru that often, not if it landed him in situations like this. His self control was already hanging on by a thread most of the time, and he felt as though routinely sparring with the six eyes user would probably end up being that final push over the edge. He didn't think it was a risk he was willing to take. Then again, when could he ever say no to Satoru?
Geto frowned, although he clearly wasn't serious. "I think you're far too spoiled. You're really assuming I'd agree to spar with you again? What if I said no next time?"
Satoru took a step back, pouting like a child denied their favourite toy. "Why would you!" He asked, his tone so high he was almost whining.
Shit he was so adorable. Geto had to clench his fists to keep whatever shred of dignity he had together.
Also Geto didn't really have an answer. He couldn't just say 'It's because you're so ridiculously hot while fighting and I don't think I could handle the emotional turmoil I'm going through right now more than once, so I'm going to have to turn you down at one point or else I'll say something stupid.' So instead he just shrugged.
"Someone needs to teach you that you won't get everything you want." (As if Geto could deny him anything).
Satoru took a step forward, cupping his hand gently around Geto's chin so he could guide his face downwards, forcing him to look over the sunglasses and straight into his six eyes. And, as if that hadn't been enough to ruin Geto entirely, Satoru pouted further, giving him the most precious puppy-dog eyes Geto had seen in his life.
"Please?"
And how could Geto ever say no to that?
Geto chuckled. "I suppose if you really wanted me to, I might be able to make time."
And Satoru stepped back, grinning once again, shedding his light across the entire gym and worming his way into Geto's heart. He was grinning happily again, and Geto just knew. He was so fucked.
This man would actually be the death of him.