bakerstreet

Your worst, obviously. :)

Understood. Ask for a corner booth.

???
Alright, I’ll ask for it.

[ gojo makes the call on the way to the torii gates, thanking the host before flipping the phone closed andctucking it into Nao jacket pocket.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slim cut black trousers, cinched in at the waist with a black belt. His sky blue button down is undone at the collar, the dip of his collar bone and then some peeking out. Satoru picked his best leather bomber jacket for the occasion - its one that makes his waist looks particularly tiny and he’s seen getou looking before.

His chest is tight as he waits, willing himself not to check his phone or his watch for the third time, foot tapping on the stones. ]

[ he's early, at least; trust Getou to give that social kindness even to the one man who wouldn't extend it to others. the kimono's dark, a simple pinstripe, cinched shut in gold. the time of year at least allows him to accessorize with an equally dark haori, patterned humbly with a simple blossom towards the tails, something that had been too warm for Tanabata. it's modest, but he wears it well. his hair's down; he's never needed to ask if that's what Gojou would prefer. ]

[ easy to spot each other in a crowd, with or without their cursed energy suppressed. Getou pauses for a beat as their eyes meet, swallows, and resumes until he's right in front of him — ]

[ hooking his fingers on empty beltloops and pulling their hips together. it's not quite a kiss, but he leans ever so slightly up to bite Gojou's bottom lip, raking his teeth across it playfully. ]

Hi. [ PDA, from him? he said he'd be on his worst behavior. ]

[ gojo can sense his approach before he can see him, turning and looking over his shoulder - maybe it’s just gojo, but it feels like the world splits in half in the wake of him, dark and broad shouldered, made molten by the setting sun.

he lets getou come to him, limitless disappearing in a soft whoosh as his eyes drag down the line of the kimono’s border where it forms a V over getou’s tanned chest. then his mouth is on him, teeth hooking into gojo’s lip and tugging at it in a soft, teasing bite. ]

Hi. [ his palm comes up to brace getou’s hip, fingers digging into the bone. PDA from getou is rare, but gojo is more than happy to indulge whether or not anyone is looking at them. his head cranes to steal a proper kiss, thumb swiping beneath the gold belt to savor the texture clinging to getou’s skin. ]

Ready for dinner? [ gojo offers his arm — his family taught him how to be a gentleman, he just doesn’t care about that shit, unless it’s getou. ]

Mm, [ a pleasant little sigh, sinking into all the affection Gojou has to offer. they're practically invisible in this town, the strange kids who come from the private religious school and only ever keep to themselves. the whole world narrows down into their little bubble, entertaining only what can enrich and enliven it: sweet, purring kisses and the shivery touch of fingers dipping down a little too low. ]

[ his lidded gaze flickers between Gojou's kiss-bittin lip and his offered arm, back up again. he takes it in his matching arm; the one closer to Satoru as they walk is tucked into a back pocket of those fitted slacks. ]

I'm starving, [ and he says it with all manner of hunger in dark eyes, pupils blown wide and attentive. a curiosity lingers, however... ] But don't you think we're a little mismatched?

[ gojo loves to stand out, but one of the most thrilling parts of tokyo is being able to blend in - be normal for a while. like this, they don't have to be jujutsu sorcerers, gojo isn't the six eyes, they're just satoru and suguru tucked into one another as the whole world falls blends into nothing.

his fingers slide along the line of his wrist, over the bone at the juncture of his wrist and hand, rubbing over it. getou's hand slipping into the back pocket of his slacks sends a thrill up his spine and he grins as they walk, tucked close enough that it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. ]

Mmmm are we? I rather like having a long-haired, kimono-clad beauty on my arm. [ gojo looks down at him, admiring how black his eyes look when they're blown out this way, ready to devour him whole. ] Should I change to match you? I'm sure I could buy something.

[ — there's a disbelieving huff at his compliments, a squirmy sort of bashfulness that it only ever seems Satoru can bring out of him. his revenge is petty but effective, giving the meat of his ass under his hand a reproachful pinch. serves him right. ]

[ should he change? he gives it his earnest thought, peripherals pouring over Gojou's long and slender limbs, the cling of denim at his thighs. eventually, he shrugs. ]

I don't mind. It's not as though you look unpresentable. [ what a compliment. besides, if he did change, he really might not be able to help himself; it's hard to keep Gojou in line when he's supposed to be on bad behavior, too. ]

[ gojo grins at him, thinks he's won when getou looks bashful and huffs a the compliments - and is rewarded for his hubris with a sharp pinch that has him squawking an extremely dignified noise. ]

Gah! Suguru! [ he grumbles, rubbing his ass before replacing his hand in his pocket, huffing. ] Jeez thanks. Do you know how much this outfit cost??

[ still, he wants to spoil getou tonight on this date, so if he wants him to change, he'll change. but the easy access of a kimono does spell a much higher risk for him misbehaving. his fingers slide against the palm of getou's hand, teasing the knit of their fingers lacing but not following through just yet. ] Are you sure? I don't mind if it's what you want.

[ satisfying. he has the audacity to look smug about it, looping both arms passively in Gojou's one. he's the one to press their palms together, gaze drifting irrevocably back to him — like always. he looks mischievous under heavy lashes, smiling with a little shrug. there's such an amount of trust he has with him that he lets himself be arm candy, placing a certain amount of faith in his best friend to lead the way. ]

You know... I think I'll enjoy watching you try to stay comfortable in those all night. [ referring, of course, to the fit of his trousers and their very little room for... growth. he promised bad behavior, and he intends to deliver. ] Oh, and—

[ from the pocket-sleeve of his haori, his free hand plucks a small box; it might have been from a jeweler, once upon a time. it's being repurposed now, to some extent. ]

I have a gift. For later. [ and, truthfully — it's more for himself than Gojou, a selfish giving. ]

So cruel to me! After all the trouble I've gone to tonight, tsk. [ their palms slide together, and gojo laces their fingers. he feels like he can't be farther apart from getou than this, would prefer to be less far apart, actually.

but there's time for that, gojo made sure. ] Hah. So you're planning to be on your worst behavior? Good.

[ he leans in and presses his mouth against getou's ear, lips dragging over it as he mumbles, tongue darting against the shell. ] I'll be on my best behavior for you, then.

[ gojo looks at getou curiously, a grin spreading across his lips. ] Yeah? For me? You're spoiling me, Suguru. [ they reach the restaurant, and gojo pulls the door open for getou, leering at him as he passes through the threshold into a sea of dark wood and low, amber lighting that suits getou like he was born into it. he follows him in, walking up to the host and giving his name for their reservation and in no time they're shuffled back through the main dining area, down a quieter hallway into a private room.

he looks back at getou as they're shown in, practically preening as he slips his boots off, walking onto the tatami and sitting down on the floor cushions. he pats the spot next to him, peering at suguru over his glasses and asking the host for a bottle of extremely expensive sake to start them off without batting an eye. ]

I thought this might be better than a corner booth. But if you want the exhibitionist angle I can ask to change.

[ it's shiver-inducing, an unfair assault, his cascading hair making for more sensitivity, more alertness; his tongue is molten he wants to melt against his own. the words even warmer, even lower. his gift winds up back in a pocket; his promise leaves him breathless. almost as much as the curious hesitance that has him walking through the restaurant half a step behind, pitching his head over the taller boy's shoulder to witness that flashy decor. he's left to follow the whims of a tempest, quiet as his honeyed gaze pours over Gojou, the sliding doors clicking shut behind him. ]

[ they're alone, for now. Suguru wants to tear him open. instead, he toes off his sandals and joins him, knees slanted with far more precise modesty than he usually executes and the rest of him pressed warmly into Satoru's side like he's always fit there. ]

No no, [ a wave of his hand, voice quiet and lilting. maybe he's been humbled just a little. ] You're only for my eyes tonight, Satoru.

[ and the way he looks at him again — like he's trying to lure him into a kiss with just his gaze, to let Gojou find his way into his appreciation. ]

[ getou's is the only shape that will ever fit here - the inevitable result of growing together, spending all their days pressed flush against one another in play and practice, learning to think and move as one. until a move in one of them caused a resulting shift into action in the other. even the way gojo breathes makes room for suguru's chest to expand with it. ]

Good. I'm looking after you tonight, remember? Bad behavior and all.

[ and the kind of behavior he knows is waiting, coiled and serpentine in getou's mind is something that will probably benefit from the option of closed doors. they have the room for the rest of the night, if they want it that long. gojo won't be able to drink sake that entire time if he wants to survive the evening, but getou likes to indulge, and gojo has neve minded the particular way getou indulges when he's like this - loose, relaxed, feeling a little pampered.

it only takes a glance to know what getou's demanding next, and gojo happily obliges. long fingers cup getou's neck and jaw as satoru leans in and presses a searing kiss onto his lips. he wastes no time dipping his tongue between them, greedy for everything he can take before they come back with the sake. kissing getou, from the very first time they stumbled, then crashed into it, has always been a heady experience. he could do it for hours, years, and never get bored of retracing his way around getou's mouth.

there's a long moment of come-down when their lips part, and gojo looks at him, eyes-lidded and low. ] Did I forget to mention you look good?

[ looking after him, huh? he can't help the funny little smile it pulls from his mouth, cheeks almost sore with the way he can't seem to stop. he feels lightheaded and flushed and he hasn't had a single sip of that expensive rice wine he's gone and ordered. a dangerous mix: asking Suguru to be on his worst behavior and then handing him a drink. but there's something else to take the taste from first, and he wastes no time in letting Satoru's tongue rake and roll against his, sucking rough on that lash of hot velvet with an equally wet, quiet little moan. Getou's breathing deep and soft against his mouth when they part, slowly reopening eyes that had gone hazy in the pleasure of it. ]

[ dazed under Satoru's attention, his compliment, he's a beat too slow: ] I...

[ a knock at their door. the thought will have to wait, and Suguru sucks the rest of Satoru's flavor from off of his own tongue as the best bottle of sake in the house is put on the table in front of him. their waiter asks if they have appetizers they'd like to place, and Suguru cluelessly glances at him. he didn't even read the menu... ]

[ go on and look after him, then. ]

[ it's a fair reaction - things are usually the opposite for them. suguru has always been the one watching out for satoru - the patient keeper of his swirling, mercurial moods and deeper, fragile inner feelings. satoru won't claim to be as good at it, but he's learning. he's trying to be better about returning the favor for suguru.

suguru asked for a date, asked to be looked after... it's the least satoru can do.

especially when he's got his tongue down satoru's throat and moaning about it. all of a sudden the taunt about the tight fit of his jeans makes too much sense. they're interrupted by a rap a the door, and their sake being delivered. satoru looks over and sees suguru peering back at him with dark, clueless eyes. he grins, a little flustered and lopsided, eyes bright as he turns back to the waiter and orders the sashimi sampler and spicy somen to start.

once the sliding doors are closed again, satoru's arm hooks around getou's waist, kneading lightly at his side. ] Pour us some sake? [ he wants to watch. ]

[ something classy and something he's more interested in, a good compromise. Suguru smiles as he orders, for the first time looking at something in the room other than the Six Eyes. it's a trap too many other sorcerers fall into, but he's not looking at the savior of the jujutsu world, he's not looking at Limitless or the boy who turned the earth on its axis when he was born. he just can't keep his eyes off of the Gojou Satoru who asked him to put on a kimono on and took him out to a date: his best friend, his... whatever they are more than that, no other words in his lexicon that could fit. ]

[ one of the waitresses is, too. Suguru settles a hand very high on Gojou's thigh while he's ordering; it draws her attention, and he smiles that placid smile. by the time she leaves again the room again, her face is a wash of crimson. ]

[ she looks quite guilty compared to him, giving Gojou's request a look. as the youngest between the three of them, he's usually the drink pourer, and he's got a sneaking suspicion about why he's still being asked to do it in spite of it being his night to be 'pampered'... so he gives his thigh another little squeeze and sits up properly on his knees. graceful hands make quick work, pouring Gojou's first and then his own, careful and respectful to not spill a drop; he's eager to discover if there really is a difference with a few more zeroes in the price. ]

To... [ he looks at him, willing the toast to come... and smiles when it does. ] To finding each other so early in this life.

[ satoru takes a great deal of pride in being Limitless, the Strongest, the most powerful wielder of Six Eyes in Generations. How could he not, after the upbringing he'd had? but when he's with suguru, he doesn't want to be any of that. suguru is the first person who looked at his Six Eyes and saw something else - saw Gojo Satoru, the lonely boy who grew up isolated and treated like glass, full of resentment and disrespect for the society that groomed him to be the savior of jujutsu society - and a boogie for all the curses they couldn't kill.

so he only presses his lips together and smirks at the waitress when suguru puts a hand possessively on his thigh, letting her mull that over as she hurries out of the room and leaves them in one another's company once more. suguru's earned a little bit of possessiveness, hasn't he?

satoru leans a cheek into his palm as he watches suguru pour the sake, slow and steady, wrists peeking out of the sleeves of his dark kimono. graceful is the right word for getou when he's doing things like this. not that he isn't when they fight, but at leisure he's even more elegant.

his eyes slide back up to meet warm, honeyed brown and he scoops up his cup for the toast, curious. to finding each other so early in this life. the words rattle around in his chest, sharp and hot and wrapping around his heart to squeeze it until near bursting. satoru stares back at him for a beat before blushing and sitting up. he taps their foreheads and glasses together in tandem, blue blue eyes swirling and soft like a summer day. ] To finding each other in this life and any other.

[ satoru pulls back, swallows down the entire cup and immediately makes a face, heaving and coughing. it's good. and he absolutely should not have done it as a shot. ]

[ no sooner than Suguru's had the chance to whisper kanpai has Gojou emptied the ochoko and made himself a mistake. the laughter that follows from Suguru is the resigned sort, what comes from living with someone and knowing them almost as well as they know themselves. it's too late to warn him now, so instead he'll just take a sip and put it back on the table, turning to tend the idiot's pride. ]

[ his t-shirt's thin. that's the thought he has as he starts petting his chest, encouraging some of that cough and burn to go away with his own warm, exploratory touch... and after a beat, it occurs to him that he's better off with skin-to-skin contact, and so slips his hand right up the front of his shirt. ]

You're meant to enjoy it slow and savor it. [ these are the words of a lesson, but not the tone of one; Suguru's voice his too low, his eyes too lidded. his fingers don't intentionally brush up against a nipple when he's trying to lecture him, either. ] ...But sometimes I have trouble pacing myself, too.

[ his gaze flickers down and his hand follows it, fingertips caressing over the center of abs, settling at the top button of his jeans... and when he looks back up, gives it a tug, pulling the waist open. ]

Oops. See what I mean? [ bet he's not coughing now. ]

Edited 2023-09-21 19:37 (UTC)

[ he hides the wet cough behind his sleeve, annoyed at himself and fully expecting a gentle lecture - not quite what he receives in the hand that gets tucked down his shirt so helpfully. oh. ]

Suguru! [ satoru blushes, inhaling a sharp breath as he stares at suguru, eyes sliding down to the hand in his shirt - and he swallows around the lump in his throat. ] Yeah?

[ suguru's hand trails down, twitching, taught muscles in its wake. gojo is exhaling harder already, choking a noise in his throat when the button of his pants pops open at getou's command. satoru's mouth is suddenly so dry no amount of sake could quench it. the arm around suguru's waist slides down, fingers slipping lower and cupping around the curve of his ass to tow him in closer to satoru's chest. ]

I think I'm getting it. [ satoru's mouth presses the affirmation to suguru's ear, nuzzlimg his nose against the shell of it through his dark hair. he loves it down, loves that suguru knows as much too. ]

Are you? Good.

[ a reply like a predator, elated his prey has decided to give another circle around the enclosure. if Satoru gets it, then he'll proceed, dunking back the rest of his sake in short order so as not to fall behind. he doesn't cough or fluster... if anything, it tastes so clean and fresh in comparison to the curses he swallows every day. he leaves him to his exploring and pawing as he pours them two more cups, abandoning them at the table's edge and swatting Gojou's hand away if he goes for it. ]

[ instead, he rearranges himself. it'll be a while before their food comes, the middle of dinner rush with something precise and fragile like sashimi; he straddles Satoru's lap and pushes him back, a hand on his chest until he's pinned to the tatami. Getou's raking fingers push up his shirt: a counterweight that sets the shape of his lap grinding over the fly of Gojou's jeans. when he tucks the shirt up at Gojou's armpits, he stills again, reaching back for the tokkuri. ]

[ cold sake on a warm night. the porcelain of the bottle is frigid, condensation beading low and dripping down; Getou rolls the bottom curve of it against one of Gojou's nipples, shocking it into hard, perked, and flushed, gaze flickering up at him from under dark and heavy lashes. ]

[ satoru reaches for the cup, pouts when suguru swats his hand away immediately. he'll drink it slow this time! but as it turns out, that doesn't seem to be the reason, a realization that comes too late and after suguru is already straddling his lap, pinning him down to the tatami.

he stares up at him, eyes bright and eager. he's not afraid of public indecency or anything like that - the thrill of it sending needles prickling down his skin from head to toe. there's a sharp inhale and twitch of his chest when suguru grinds down on his hips, shirt is bunched up to his collarbone, revealing pale skin, pink with flush. god. he asked him to be on his best behavior, but even gojo hadn't been expecting -

oh.

the tokkuri makes its way into suguru's skill hands, and satoru swallows hard. he sees it coming and still isn't prepared for the shock of the cold porcelain on his skin, arching up hard under suguru and biting his cheek to choke down a high-pitched cry. ] A-agh! Fuck!

[ he shudders underneath the roll, hips swelling to match it, exhaling hard to keep from crying out again. suguru peeks up at him and satoru looks at him, flushed and reproachful, but with zero interest in asking him to stop. ] suguru.

Satoru.

[ a soft parrot, shaky on its first syllable with the delightful way his hips are raising up beneath his throne, eyes bright and warm. he can't help it; it's impossible not to play with his food when Gojou looks so cute and... and a little pathetic, a little needy. a hand goes back, returning the cask to the table. ]

We keep ending up like this... [ if he's scolding anything here, it's probably his own lack of discipline. the liquor isn't helping, a ruddy heat on his cheeks and in his guts. Suguru takes his cup from the table and finishes what he started: pouring the drink out on Satoru's heaving chest. the wine pools on his sternum but runs south with the slope of his body. Getou heads it off between the wings of his ribs, drinking mouth and lashing tongue sucking up liquor from fair skin and replacing its chill, the falling tips of his hair tickling everything in his path. ]

[ he follows the hollows of Satoru's body still, running his tongue along the dip of his collarbone, the pulse in his throat — until he's kissing his way up the corner of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, smiling there like a cat who ate the canary. ]

What do you think we should do about that?

[ another whine pours out of satoru in time with the chilled liquid spreading over his skin, chest heaving from the heady combination of thrill and intense sensation. suguru is there to meet the stream, lapping it up and sucking the pools of clear, shimmering sake from satoru's sternum.

the coarse, smooth strands of his hair tickle his chest and sides, making him squirm underneath suguru's mouth. he's such a damn tease!

suguru moves up, trailing kisses up his chest and neck, following the line of his jaw to his plush lips, and satoru doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence before he's smashing their mouths together, licking the taste of the sake from suguru's lips and tongue greedily - since he so cruelly denied satoru his second glass anyway.

when he pulls back, satoru pants open-mouthed and considers suguru. ]

Is there a reason we should do anything about it? You seem to be enjoying yourself...

[ he's so perfect and pale and pretty under him, skin flushed and nipples pointed up just begging for attention; he can feel Satoru's cock nestled up against his own and growing thicker with need. those jeans do indeed leave so little room to the imagination or for the taking, his kimono much more forgiving... not that he's making use of it when Gojou's forcing a soft groan at him with his kiss. ]

[ there's the flavor of sake still on his tongue, too. kissing Gojou practically drives him dizzy, sucking on the curious invasion of his tongue. it sends him driving his hips down again, eager to prove Gojou's words true. ]

[ he still laughs at them. oh, that's just like Satoru.... ]

I am. I just think we need to make some rules. [ Suguru knows his aversion to the word... but the clicking teeth of his jeans fly going down hopes to interrupt his complainants, fingers pulling open and peeling denim flaps apart as far as they will go. ] The kind of rules you'll enjoy.

[ fingers dig in; Satoru's cock is hot and turgid in his hand. a few shifts of fabric and his own joins it, pressing them together with his surging hips, his large fist wrapped around — stroking them both with a sweet little sigh of relief. ]

Things like... you aren't allowed to touch yourself— [ an emphatic squeeze, ] —without thinking of me.

Tch. Fuck rules. [ satoru's face curls into a sneer at the mention of rules - he hates rules. suguru knows he hates rules - but he's distracted enough by the tug of his zipper down, down, until the relief of the extra space has him shivering full-body underneath suguru. ]

Fine, fine. What kind of rules??

[ ahhhh fuck - his head goes fuzzy as soon as suguru gets his hand around him, hips surging up to rut into suguru's grip, the slide of the two of them against one another wringing another sweet whine from his lips. ]

Who the hell do you think I'm thinking of when I jerk off other than you, at this point, seriously.

[ his hand slinks up suguru's thigh, underneath the lightweight kimono, groping at his thigh and his ass. ]

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