Work Text:
Satoru was sat in his dorm, tapping his fingers against the wood of his desk in a rapid thrum. His eyes burned, red rimmed and exhausted behind his dark frames, running over the same textbook page he’d been fruitlessly trying to absorb for the last fifteen minutes.
He narrowed his eyes, arctic blue squinted against the blinding throb of the fluorescent lights overhead. He could feel a migraine blooming deep in his skull.
Admittedly, he was nearing the end of his tether.
The way the plastic seat was biting into his thighs, the little wrinkle in the toe of his sock scrunched up beneath his shoe. His uniform collar biting into his throat. The way the desk chair beneath him squeaked everytime he twisted it in a vein attempt to expel some of the energy surging through him.
And when he’d lifted his can of soda to his mouth, lips pressed to take a sip, only to have the thin rim of metal slice a tiny cut along his tongue - he couldn’t help the hot, frustrated tears that sprang to his eyes.
As if sensing the impending snap, Suguru’s head tilted up where he was lounged along the single bed, lazed into pale blue sheets beneath the window. He gazed away from the book splayed open on his lap, fixing Satoru instead with a mellow, curious expression.
“Satoru.” He spoke out into the silence, voice a touch softer than usual.
He watched with mild concern as Satoru jolted slightly in his seat, as if he’d forgotten Suguru was there at all.
“…Are you alright?”
The mask of the mighty Gojo Satoru slid back into place almost instantly. He spun around with a flourish, shoving his dark lenses back up his nose with a slender finger and fixing Suguru with a dazzling grin as pearly as the hair atop his head.
“Pfft what are you talking about, ‘course I am.” He retorted, legs tossed up leisurely onto the corner of the desk. “Nearly putting me to sleep, ‘s’all sooooo boring.”
Suguru watched him twist mindlessly around on his desk chair, expression remaining a mask - flat and bored. But he didn’t miss the way Satoru flinched a little each time the plastic yelped beneath him, or the way his fingers were gripping the chair arms so tight that his knuckles paled.
“Alright.” Suguru replied smoothly, turned the next page of his book without another word.
While he went back to his book, his eyes still lingered on the other man, flicking up to watch Satoru every few pages.
Suguru watched him twirl a pen frantically between his fingers, foot tapping against the floor in a mad rhythm. And when a passing police car flew by the window, wailing a siren and flashing beams of red and blue - Satoru slammed the pen onto the desk and rubbed at his ears, shoulders tensed as he tugged his dark glasses further up the bridge of his nose as if he could disappear behind them.
Suguru sighed, folded his book closed and placed it beside him atop the pale sheets.
“Satoru.” He called again, voice a little firmer this time.
“What?” Satoru bit back immediately, turned his head to meet Suguru’s gaze, his pale brows furrowed and twitching in annoyance.
Suguru paused for a moment, let Satoru’s sudden snarl of anger hang in the empty air. He waited for some of the heat fizzle out before he spoke again.
“What’s the matter?” He questioned lightly, fixed Satoru with a look of earnest. “You can tell me.”
Satoru broke from the suddenly serious bout of eye contact and instead looked down at his own hands, where his fingers were curled into his palm. He tightened the limbs into balled fists, pressed until he felt his nails bite into the skin, as if to shed some layer of feeling from them.
“It’s just… a lot.” Satoru finally sighed.
Suguru tugged himself up the mattress onto his palms, crossed his legs as he considered Satoru’s reply.
“What is?” He questioned.
Satoru’s fingers slid beneath the wire frame of his blackout glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed closed.
“Everything.”
Satoru’s hand dropped from his face, and with the relenting motion, he suddenly looked exhausted. Suguru’s eyes roamed over him properly then - cataloguing the way his entire body was tense, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap, as if every atom making up his form was electrified.
“The six eyes.” Satoru continued, voice an irritated rumble. “It amplifies it all - every sound, every smell, every taste, every sight.” He rambled, brows knitted together. “Every flutter of a goddamn butterfly wing.”
He pressed a curve of knuckles to his forehead, nestled between icy strands and rubbed at his skin as if he could massage away the thrumming pain drilling into his skull.
Suguru said nothing, simply sat, dark eyes set on Satoru for a few moments before he nodded, as if coming to a decision.
“Come with me.”
Satoru winked an eye open, his hand pausing its rub over his forehead as he watched Suguru rise from the bed and slip his bare feet into a stray pair of slippers.
“Huh? Where?” Satoru questioned, hand folded back down to rest upon the desk chair.
Suguru gave no answer, simply padded past Satoru and out the doorway.
Satoru groaned, and leapt from his chair to follow.
Suguru’s room was in stark opposition to Satoru’s.
Where Satoru had chaos - half ripped movie posters covering the walls, video game cartridges, half eaten sweets and and half remembered slips of paper sprawled over every surface. Suguru’s space was simple, clean.
He had a quiet collection of knickknacks - mementos and heirlooms stacked neatly onto shelves, training weapons hung along the walls. An ashtray tucked away on the corner of the desk for Shoko, and sometimes for himself. The room itself was cool and dimmed, dark satiny sheets folded neat, and the soft scent of incense perfuming the air.
The moment Satoru breached the doorway, he felt his shoulders relax an inch. He breathed in a slow, deep lungful of the comforting, familiar scent as he slid the door closed, flicked the lock into place.
When he turned around, He was met with the expanse of Suguru’s broad back, his head downturned and slick bun bobbing as he rummaged around in a drawer tucked inside his wardrobe.
With a satisfied sound, Suguru slid the wardrobe door closed and turned back around to face him. Satoru’s eyes dropped immediately to the other mans hands, where he was holding a thick bundle of dark blue rope, wrapping it absentmindedly over his knuckles.
Satoru watched the smooth threads slither through Suguru’s fingers like the writhing roll of a serpents body. Eyes tracking the fluid braid of knots as they bumped over his skin in a hypnotic flow.
“Have you done this before?” Suguru’s smooth voice tugged him from his focus.
“What? Tied someone up?” Satoru cocked his head, face blank in confusion. “No, what are you getting at Suguru?”
Suguru rolled his eyes, snapped the rope taut between his hands in a sharp flick, dark eyes flat as they met Satoru’s confused gaze.
“No. I’m asking if you’ve ever been restrained, Satoru.”
Satoru’s lips pursed into a soft ‘o’ as the realisation of Suguru’s words hit him, eyes widened a little behind his frames at the implication.
“Oh.” He murmured, swallowed thickly. “No.”
His mind raced. An image of his wrists bound tight above his head, looped around the slats of the headboard to keep him snugly in place. Suguru crawling on top of him, pressing down onto his lap, trailing his hands over his chest. The way his dark hair would tickle his skin. The sharp sweet sting of his palm, the pinching of his fingers.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.” Suguru shattered his daydream with a flat retort.
Suguru leaned forward, pinched either arm of his dark frames and slowly slid them down his nose, revealing that blinding cerulean. Satoru peered at him over the slip of black, pale lashes blinking against the sudden invasion of light until an unfiltered version of Suguru came into view.
“You’ll need to let infinity down.” Suguru murmured, folding the frames neatly, tucking them beside a stack of worn novels.
Satoru peered into his dark eyes, and when he found no sign of teasing, just those familiar mellow pools of brown, he released the technique with an electrified crackle.
Suguru watched Satoru dull slightly before him. His usual blinding essence lessened almost imperceptibly. In the new light Suguru could see the way Satoru’s pale eyes were sunken and rimmed dark. Where his stark hair - usually alien and ethereal - now seemed simply unearthly, sickly.
“Thankyou.” Suguru offered. “Can I touch you?”
Satoru’s shoulders tensed a little, brows knitted.
“Uh… Sure.” He murmured.
“Give me your hand, please.”
When Satoru raised his hand, Suguru slipped his own gently into it, and Satoru flinched. Suguru’s other hand clasped over the top, and he began massaging his thumb in slow soothing circles up to Satoru’s wrist.
“How’s this?”
Suguru watched Satoru’s toned throat bob as he swallowed.
“It’s okay.”
Suguru’s fingers slid up his forearm, working the lithe muscles there beneath his warm palm until Satoru’s fingers tingled.
“And this?”
“Yeah, ‘s good.” Satoru replied, voice a little breathy as a pleasant warmth spread over his forearm, muscle there softened beneath the slow rub of Suguru’s thumbs.
“Good.” Suguru smiled and released his arm. That sweet warm smile that made his eyes narrow, and made Satoru feel like he was the only person in the world.
It took all of Satoru’s strength not to throw his arm back into Suguru’s lap, chase the warmth of his touch.
“Before we start, you’ll need a safeword.” Suguru drawled, eyes lowered as he unthreaded the spools of rope into organised strips.
“A safeword?” Satoru scoffed, fixed Suguru with an incredulous look. “What is this, some kinda shitty bondage porn?”
“I’m serious Satoru.” He replied flatly, eyes flicked up to pin him beneath his dark gaze. “It’s for your safety - it’s important.”
“Alright, alright.” Satoru waved a hand, gazed around the room for a moment, considering.
“Rainbow Dragon.” He finally settled on.
Suguru’s lips spread into a soft smile, and he nodded.
“Okay, Rainbow Dragon.” He confirmed. “And if you can’t speak, then tap me firmly - three taps in quick succession wherever you can reach - okay?”
“If I can’t speak? What in the hell are you planning?” Satoru sputtered, raised his brow as he studied Suguru’s face for signs of chiding.
Suguru fixed him with a flat look.
“It’s not like i’m going to gag you, no matter how much I’d like to.” He sighed. “You might not want to speak during the session, so in that case, give me three quick taps instead, and i’ll stop.”
Suguru lifted his arm, and held his wrist out toward Satoru.
“Go on, show me.” He prompted, wiggled his arm.
Satoru rolled his eyes, but he nontheless raised his hand and pressed three swift taps into Suguru’s wrist with his fingers.
“Very good.” Suguru praised, tugged his sleeve back down as he fixed Satoru with that teasing, sly smile of his. “Now strip.”
Satoru’s mouth split into an immediate grin at that, maybe the first genuine smile he’d given all day. He winked playfully at Suguru, hands flying to the seam of his jacket, popping the clasps with an excessive flourish.
“If you wanted to see me naked so badly, could have just asked Sugu’~”
Suguru didn’t entertain his mocking taunt with any verbal reply, just leaned back leisurely to watch as Satoru popped open the swirled gold buttons of his uniform. Satoru rolled his shoulders, dark fabric slipping down to reveal an expanse of lean, toned muscle. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief - finally free from the itch, the smothering confines of fabric.
He tossed the jacket aside and let it disappear into some dark corner of the room. He kind of liked the idea of that - a little piece of him lost in the shadows of Suguru Geto.
The same dull satisfaction followed as he popped the button of his pants, tugged the zipper down in a single fluid motion and stepped from the navy slacks, kicking them aside.
He took a moment to relish in the freedom, stood in the still air that smelt like Suguru, clad in nothing but his boxers.
Lips parted in a slow breath, he ran a thumb along the waistband of his boxers, tugged them down a little before Suguru cleared his throat.
Suguru’s dark eyes lowered, roaming freely over the trimmed spatter of pale hair that dipped beneath the patterned material.
“Those can stay on.” He noted slowly, lips tugged up a little at the corners.
Satoru shrugged, slipped his thumbs from the waistband and held his hands up in mock surrender.
“Your loss.”
Suguru simply hummed in reply, took a few slow steps backward before he lowered himself to the floor, knees tucked beneath him. He patted the ground in-front of him, peered up at Satoru with those smoldering eyes of his.
“Sit with me.”
Satoru, in all his near naked glory, lowered himself to the floor across from Suguru without further argument, chest swirling with a cocktail of curiosity and anxiety in equal parts. The ground was smooth and oddly comfortable beneath his bent legs. He laced his fingers over his knees, tapping the bone in a nervous tick.
“I’m going to start now.” Suguru directed as he began to unwind the coil of rope, tilting his head a little as he studied Satoru's shielded expression. “Are you ready?”
Satoru could think of nothing smart to say, the only word he could summon was a simple confirmation.
“Yes.”
Suguru leaned forward, the motion slow, methodical. He wrapped his fingers around Satoru’s ankle and slid his hand up in a slow glide, just as he had earlier on Satoru’s wrist. His palm was warm and steady, fingers curling to apply a firm pressure as he tugged Satoru’s knee up, pushing his ankle back until it met the solid mass of his thigh.
“Just focus on this, and only on this.” Suguru murmured, voice dropped low and even like the hum of the breeze.
While one hand looped around Satoru’s ankle, the other fed a spool of rope over the top of his thigh and shin, trapping his leg in a folded position. Satoru couldn’t help the surprised little sound that left him when Suguru tugged the thread, tightened the loop until he could feel the rope bite into his skin, and his calf was suddenly pressed flat to the underside of his thigh.
Satoru watched with bated breath as Suguru’s hands moved, looping rope in a calculated flow of steps that made his head spin. He watched the navy braids slither, felt the bumps press into his skin. The resulting form was a delicate pattern of knots threaded together, encasing his thigh in an intricate webbed restraint.
He urged his leg to straighten, and when the limb met only the iron resistance of rope, he felt a sharp pang of panic bolt unexpectedly through his chest. His pulse began to race and his head shot up, mouth parting, beginnings of their safeword forming on his tongue, before he met Suguru’s eyes.
Those dark swirling pools sucked him in, serene and comforting like a splash of cool water on a summers afternoon. His lips pressed closed, and Suguru smiled in return.
“I’m here. Close your eyes, Satoru. Just breathe. Focus on how it feels.” He soothed. “If you still don’t like it when you open your eyes, i promise i'll unwind it.”
Unsure on what else there was to do other than follow Suguru’s guidance, and left with the frantic thrum of his heart still hammering in his chest - Satoru let his eyes fall closed.
In the dark valley of his mind, the air was unusually still, quiet, lulled by the soft flow of Suguru’s voice - serene as the surface of a pond. A solitary pebble dropped into the pool and he watched, entranced, at the pattern of the ripple as it cascaded over the surface.
Satoru blinked his eyes open slowly, felt that his pulse had slowed back to a steady, relaxed rhythm. He blinked a few more times, and the motion felt delayed somehow, like Suguru had disconnected a cable somewhere in his brain, replaced it with a thick thread of smooth rope.
His senses felt hazy, softened like a blade worn dull. When his vision slid back into focus, he found that in the time his eyes had been closed his other leg had been tied - encased in an intricate mirrored pattern of the other.
Suguru’s cool gaze was on him then, and Satoru met his eyes slowly, eyelids suddenly feeling a little heavier as he blinked, trying to shed some of the heady fog that had crept up on him.
Suguru stroked the skin of his leg through the layers of cord with his forefinger, tugged the last loop tight. Satoru let out a soft, low breath through his lips, eyes lowered to watch where his leg had been carefully bent and bound.
Satoru wiggled his toes experimentally, found them the only extension of his legs still responsive to his command. And for some reason, that tiny little fact was a comfort, worming its way through his brain.
“How does that feel now?”
Satoru bit his lip, blinked again, the motion of his pale lashes dipping was slow as molasses. He took a moment just to feel, and in his self assessment he was distantly surprised to find that the previously overwhelming hum of his six eyes had dulled, sensations streamlined to the feeling of rope pressing into his skin.
It was… pleasant.
“Feels good.” He murmured, tongue feeling fat and heavy in his mouth as he tried to formulate a reply. Or maybe it was simply his mind that was struggling to chase any coherent thought - like he was wading through a sticky pool of sap.
“That’s good.” Suguru praised in that deep, soothing tone of his. “Do you want to keep going?”
Satoru simply nodded, blue eyes glued onto the little shapes of his flesh cut between the dark rope, where the bite was turning his skin a pretty pink.
“Need to hear you say it. Use your words for me, Satoru.”
Satoru swallowed, tried to ignore the hot, primal burst of desire writhing in his gut at the sheer eroticism of their shifting dynamic - the push and pull of control and release, trust and reassurance. Suguru’s smooth purr was honey over his ears, the unwavering note of confidence turning his lower belly to lava.
“Yes…” He breathed, voice uncharacteristically soft, detached. “More, please.”
Suguru fixed him with a soft smile.
“Excellent.” He nodded, and leaned back to reach for something behind him. “Would you close your eyes again for me, please?”
Softened beneath the sting of rope and the soothing flow of Suguru’s words, Satoru allowed his eyes to droop closed once more. After a few muffled moments, he felt something tight slide over his head, and then came the smooth press of Suguru’s fingers, threading a slip of dark fabric beneath his bangs.
In the next moment the touch was gone, and he heard a satisfied hum before him.
“You can open your eyes now, if you want.” He heard Suguru confirm.
When he opened his eyes and met only the serene expanse of black, he felt his body physically relax - tightly strung muscles loosened. There was an instant relief in the cool darkness behind the fabric, and he exhaled a slow breath, let the remaining coils of knotted tension unfurl and slip from him like the steady stream of a river.
“That’s it, just relax. You’re doing excellently.”
Where he had been worried it would be too much; the lack of control, to forfeit it to someone else, to let down his barrier. He found it was quite the opposite. The lack of movement, the lack of sensation, it was… freeing.
All sensations were measured - the ache of his limbs a solved equation, the subtle burn of rope a controlled factor. And those unequivacble facts melted Satoru’s worries like butter.
To find his only choice was to give in to the mild ache of his bent limbs, the rope biting into his pale flesh and the kiss of pain streamlining his mind. The inky blackness tuned out the rest of the haze, sliced through all remaining sensation until he was mellow and docile, tugged along only by the rustle of fabric, and the occasional thread of Sugurus low, flat voice in a soft spoken explanation of what he would do next.
“Up now. Lean against me. That’s it.”
Suguru tugged him forward, and when his chest met Suguru’s solid form, Satoru nuzzled his face into the curve of his shoulder. Rubbed his heated cheek against his collarbone and felt the lean muscles in his chest rippling beneath skin as his arms worked behind him.
His eyes fluttered closed beneath the blindfold, and he simply listened to the steady pace of his own breathing and Suguru’s rhythmic pulse tapping against his throat.
“Still with me?” Came Sugurus quiet rumble after a moment of gentle breaths, jostling Satoru slightly as he threaded thick threads of rope over his chest, looping around his hands where they were clasped in a line down his spine.
A breathy hum was all Satoru could manage, sure that he was drooling onto Suguru’s shoulder.
His body was tingling, moulded lovingly into a new shape by the warm push of Suguru’s palms. His mind blissfully empty, like a long disconnected tv channel set to a soft, buzzing static.
“There we go.” Suguru cooed. “You’re so beautiful like this, wish you could see the way you look.”
They stayed that way for a few moments, Satoru cocooned in rope, docile and softened - leaning up against Suguru’s chest, as steady and unwavering as an oak tree.
He managed a tiny whine when he felt Suguru shift, his chest replaced with the curl of his fingers over Satoru’s shoulders as he listened to the rustle of fabric.
It was then that he noticed he was being coaxed along the floor by the grip on his arm. He crawled slowly on the tips of his bent knees until the guiding hand came to a halt, and he heard the slow tug of chair legs against wood.
Satoru gathered that he was beneath the desk, nestled between Suguru’s legs. He could feel Suguru’s thick thighs heat the air on either side of his head. He leaned to the side on an angled hip until he felt his cheek press lightly against Suguru’s inner thigh. He breathed slow, let Suguru be his anchor. Unwavering, trustworthy Suguru, who had tied him up like a pretty present, chased away any sensation that wasn’t manufactured by him.
And so the afternoon slipped into evening, sky turning to a blaze of hot pink and dark swirling midnight. The silence was filled only by the odd turn of a page, and Satoru’s soft, mellow breathing.
If Suguru noticed the subtle bulge pressing against his shin beneath the thin material of Satoru’s boxers, he said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Satoru would have already had his hand shoved between his thighs, wrapped a fist around himself - hell, atleast rutted against Suguru’s leg. But in the moment, he was content to simply feel, let the pleasant throbs of desire wash over him, and then pass like the flow of a stream.
Satoru didn’t know how much time had passed. It could have been no more than a heartbeat, it could have been twenty years. All he knew was that even the recesses of his mind were utterly silent, and he would happily have stayed there forever, pressed between Suguru’s legs in a blissfully pleasant hum.