"Holy fuck," Shoko laughs into her drink, pale legs propped up on the table that's now covered in countless beer cans and a random bottle of vodka Satoru pretty much materialized out of nowhere. "Is he dead?"
"No, he's just wasted." Suguru snorts from his spot on the floor.
He's not entirely sure why they thought getting wasted in Shoko's room was a great idea, but after a hellish week of constant work and one particularly nasty curse incident, it was much needed. So Suguru isn't really complaining.
Satoru is passed out beside him on the floor, having downed six shots of vodka within the first handful of minutes of walking into Shoko's room, and then continuing to drink until his ramble of words began to slur and he finally dozed off watching some alien movie Shoko put on.
"I think I like him like this, at least he's quiet for once." Shoko crosses her legs, red painted toes gleaming in the flashing lights of the tv. Suguru is so accustomed to seeing her training, fighting curses, and dragging the two of them out of trouble, he sometimes forgets how pretty she is, how fragile she looks—it's insanely misleading.
"Don't act like you don't like it, I see the way you look at him." He says, eyebrow raised in her direction when hecuts a sharp side eye at her. "You're not exactly subtle, Sho."
An empty can goes soaring into the small trash can they've been using in the middle of the room. "Ha! You're one to talk. The way you look at him is disgusting, Suguru. You may as well just say you're in love with him. I'm surprised you haven't pissed on him to mark your territory yet."
They lock eyes, Shoko's browns appearing black with only the tv as lighting, and Suguru's lack of a response makes Shoko laugh again, only harder.
"Oh you're fucked, huh?"
Suguru chooses to ignore that too.
"And, to clarify, I don't want him—I just wanna fuck him. There's a difference." Shoko puts her red tipped toes on Satoru's cheek and slowly pushes him over. "But you? You look at him like you want to eat him like one of your curses. Like you want to keep him all for yourself. Hence, the piss comment."
Satoru falls over, completely unbothered, and continues to sleep now spread out on the floor. He really is wasted.
"You want to fuck him?" Suguru asks, in lue of a response. But he doesn't miss the knowing look she gives him.
"Kinda? I mostly want him to put that mouth to use, he runs it so much it's gotta be good for something, right? I just wanna sit on his face. He's much better to look at when he's not talking."
Oddly enough, Suguru doesn't mind Satoru's motor mouth, which probably just proves Shoko's point. They both look at him, he knows she's looking because it's impossible not to, really. Satoru is disgustingly pretty, nauseatingly so, and it's almost impossible not to look at him when you can do it without getting distracted by what he's saying or getting caught up in those fucking eyes.
As strong as he is, as childish as he can be, he looks so soft just lying there on the floor. Suguru has to resist the urge to touch him, to push the snow white strands of his hair from his perfect face, and instead chooses to finish his beer and light a cigarette.
"How out of it do you think he is?"
"Hm?" He questions around his first drag, tucking the lighter back into his pocket.
"Like," she drops her legs from the table and starts to get off the couch. "If you smacked him right now, do you think he'd wake up?"
"Why would you… what?" Apparently, Shoko is more wasted than he thought.
But it doesn't stop her from raising her hand over Satoru's face, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth like she's trying to aim it just right, and literally smacking him full force across the cheek. The sound is loud, sharp, and echoes through the room while Suguru holds his breath, smoke trapped in his lungs, waiting for Satoru to bolt up and flip shit…
But the bastard doesn't even budge.
And then Shoko does it again.
"What the hell, Sho? How smashed are you?"
"Fuckin hell, if I couldn't actually see him breathing right now I'd think he was dead."
She says it with something akin to wonder as she settles on the floor right beside Satoru's head. Suguru is watching more intently then he has any reason to, somehow drawn to the calculating look on her pretty face. Has she always been so pretty?
"You know," Shoko starts, inching closer to their sleeping menace and meeting Suguru's gaze head on. "We could…we could do whatever we wanted to him and he'd never know. Probably won't even wake up for hours…"
And that—that shouldn't grab Suguru's attention as fiercely as it does. It shouldn't immediately make his heart race and his eyes slide longingly over Satoru's body—but it does.
"We could." He answers, though he has no idea why. It's not question.
There's this pregnant pause, a slow, drawn out moment where an entire conversation is had in the blink of an eye and Suguru's racing heart does a stutter step and half a million flips in his chest.
"We could." He says again, and Shoko, the deep molten browns of her eyes alighting with something, slowly starts to pull her skirt up her legs.
Suguru's next swig of beer does nothing to quench his now dry throat.
"We can both get what we want, ya know. Our little secret."
He barely hears the words, can't really process anything beyond the sight of her hiking her skirt up, black panties on full display, and sitting herself directly above Satoru's face. If he were awake right now, crystalline eyes open, he'd see Shoko, as she slides her panties to the side, and the glistening lips of her pussy positioned directly above his face.
"I've imagined the two of you together, you know." She throws out offhandedly. And that draws Suguru's attention like a lightning strike in the dead of night.
He's listening, intently now, and watching, with an unhealthy kind of fixation, as Shoko spreads her legs further and begins grinding her cunt against Satoru's nose and lips.
"I like to picture you fucking him until he cries." She gasps, a soft drawn out sound that makes Suguru throb in his pants—He has no idea when he became so fucking hard.
"I just know he would look so pretty crying, face an absolute mess, with a dick in his ass. Don't you, Suguru?"
Yes, yes, Suguru agrees. God, he fucking agrees.
He's dreamed of it himself countless times. Pulling Satoru apart, slow, fast, hard, soft. He's pictured it so clearly, sometimes Suguru can't tell if it's a memory or a fantasy. Satoru crying under him, begging for more, begging for it to stop, while simultaneously needing Suguru to give him more.
He's always been a contradiction, beautiful and fierce, God and mortal, intelligent to a concerning degree while being so phenomenally stupid it should be documented by specialists.
And every one of those thoughts runs at light speed through his mind while Shoko, with one hand holding her skirt and the other balanced on Satoru's chest, rubs her stunningly wet pussy over Satoru's face.
"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before."
There's a thickness to Suguru's voice when he says,"I've never seen anything like this before."
Because he hasn't. No shitty porno could come close to what he's seeing right now first hand—to what was promised between them when Shoko first suggested this.
God, he's so fucking hard.
Suguru takes another drag of his cig to steady himself.
"Are you upset I'm using your little obsession to get off? Because you are obsessed with him. I can't remember a time when you two weren't together, always together Satoru and Suguru."
She's teasing him, the smirk plastered on her face, even as she gets herself off, is evidence enough. But Suguru has no problem answering this one. "No, no… I like it."
Shoko's moan nearly pulls one from Suguru's own lips.
She rocks against Satoru's face faster, Suguru watching as she loses herself and covers his face in slick, Satoru's nose buried between her legs until Suguru watches him jolt at the lack of air. It's otherworldly to watch Shoko giggle as she lifts up off him for a moment, soothing him back down as she pets over his face.
"Shh, I got a little excited, Toru. But I'm so close." She groans, bottom lip tugged between her teeth.
Satoru's body goes slack again, as if truly soothed by her words, and Shoko is immediately grinding against his face again, hips rolling back and forth, back and forth as she rides him. Satoru's face is shiny and wet, and Suguru finally has to press his palm to his dick to help ease some of the ache. Watching this is obscene.
"This feels so good, Suguru. I can't wait to see what you do to him." She moans, head thrown back as she sucks in a ragged breath and comes with her clit pressed right to Satoru's lips.
Suguru swears he watches her cum for ages, Shoko's hips slowly dragging it out until she's physically shaking with it. When she finally collapses on the floor, skirt still hiked up and her panties in disarray, Suguru can better see the mess she made over Satoru's face.
"Holy fuck."
"Who are you telling? I don't remember the last time I came that hard."
She looks even more drunk than before, a loopy, satisfied smile on her flushed face when she turns to look at Suguru, eyes hazy with her orgasm. "Your turn."
Suguru feels like he's been frozen in place this entire time. He hasn't moved an inch, except to bring his nearly finished cigarette to his lips, the cherry burning bright as he takes his final drag. The familiar feeling, that fullness in his lungs, and the subtle, nearly undetectable sting as he exhales through his nose, is an anchor as he really lets himself take in Satoru's sleeping form.
Nothing has changed, minus the mess on his face and the fullness of his lips from Shoko's rough treatment, and Suguru's hand holds a small tremor when he reaches out to touch Satoru's face.
"My turn, then." It's a rush to touch him like this, to have Shoko watching so intently, because he knows she's watching, can feel her eyes on him as Suguru finally moves from his spot against the couch.
Shoko let's out an amused hum when he lets his fingers trail down Satoru's face, over his neck, so long and vulnerable, and over the buttons of the dress shirt he always wears under his school blazer. This feels intimate, even with an audience, or maybe because Shoko is watching, because Suguru watched her use him and enjoyed it more than he should be comfortable admitting.
By the time he reaches Satoru's belt Suguru can feel how heavy his breaths are. He's never been this excited for something, and he's never been this turned on before either. He wonders if that's why Shoko had cum so quickly, so intensely—or maybe it was just because it was Satoru.
That thought threatens to drown him as Suguru pulls the belt through the belt loops, nearly succeeds in his demise when he finally gets Satoru's pants undone and begins to work them down his hips.
"Watching you almost feels as good as fucking Satoru's face. You should see yourself." Suguru almost tells her to take a picture, but his mind is too overloaded right now to form words.
He gets Satoru's pants and underwear pulled down to his thighs with a bit of work, and stuns himself with how easy it is to simply put his hands on Satoru's body. For the longest time Suguru thought Satoru dyed his hair to be that white, even though his pale lashes all but proved that thrower wrong, but it's something else entirely to see the perfectly groomed patch of white pubes surrounding his dick.
His cock sits soft, and as pale as the rest of him, between his legs. The head is rosy, dusted the prettiest link Suguru has ever seen in his life, and his mouth waters at the idea of wrapping his lips around it. He feels like he's been run through by a bulldozer at the realization that there's nothing stopping him from doing just that.
So he does.
Suguru leans down, hands wandering from Satoru's sides to his hips, and finally to his thighs as he settles fully between those impossibly long legs and takes Satoru's soft cock into his mouth.
It's like Christmas Day.
It's like every good, great, and perfect memory Suguru possesses all wrapped into one and placed on his tongue to savor. Satoru tastes like winter, cool and clean with the barest hint of the expensive soap he uses. He's soft against Suguru's tongue, smooth and delicate as he swallows and presses his nose right into that patch of curls.
He is obsessed, Shoko was right about that, and nothing could make him feel even an ounce of shame as he sucks in a gut wrenching breath to draw as much of Satoru as he can into his lungs. He's better than any cigarette, any high, and fills Suguru's senses with the kind of bliss that nicotine couldn't manage in a million years.
There's the sound of a shutter clicking, and when Suguru looks up, mouth still wrapped around Satoru's dick, it goes off again. "I couldn't help it. You need to see what you look like right now."
Shoko is wearing that wonderstruck look again, like someone seeing a meteor shower for the first time or their first sunrise over the ocean—she looks enthralled, and it's so powerful Suguru doesn't have the heart to stop as the shutter continues to go off.
He would want to see them when this was all said and done.
Satoru doesn't stir at all, but his dick begins to fill out in Suguru's mouth and something like pride swells in his chest. I did that, He thinks. It's a high all on its own to know that, even while he's unconscious, Suguru can bring Satoru pleasure while taking his own.
"Fuck, Suguru. You should… you should fuck him. I wanna see."
The image that paints on the forefront of his mind almost has Suguru coming in his pants like a virgin. But as Satoru sits fully hard in his mouth, that thick vein outlined by his tongue, it's all Suguru wants.
He releases Satoru reluctantly, mouth craving him as soon as he's slipped from between his lips, and reaches for the pillows stacked against the couch, the ones Suguru had occupied only moments before.
Suguru pushes Satoru's legs up, still held captive by his pants trapped around his thighs, and shoves the pillows under his lower back until his bare ass is on display. Satoru is pretty here too. His cheeks are pale and smooth, round from countless hours of training and fighting, and Suguru doesn't even hesitate to grab a handful.
His hand covers it easily, fingers digging into supple flesh as he spreads Satoru's cheeks to hungrily gaze upon his prize. The very idea of being buried in that tightness, that pretty pink hole, is Suguru's undoing.
It feels like she's been holding back this entire time and suddenly the ability to do so has been stripped from him. Suguru bends Satoru in half, ivory lashes still laid delicately upon his cheeks as he sleeps, as grinds his clothes cock against the most sensitive part of him in a moment of weakness so strong it robs Suguru of his very breath.
The moment is only broken by the sound of something sliding across the floor, and of Shoko now sitting on her knees, fully alert, phone aimed right at Suguru, as she continues to watch. The noise was a small bottle of lube, clear with a purple cap, being slid across the floor for Suguru to use.
He's never been more in tune with himself, his every movement, or the feel of another person against him as he is when Suguru pops the cap on the lube and drizzles an ungodly amount over Satoru's taint and hole. It's like glazing a cake, putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece, every inch of Satoru feels that way, but this is… this is unfair.
The bottle gets discarded on the floor, forgotten as soon as it was discovered, and Suguru can hear nothing but his own breathing as he slowly circles the glossy pink ring with his middle finger. Everything in him wants to dive in, to stuff Satoru full until he's bursting with nothing but Suguru, filled to the very brim with the lingering taste of his obsession.
Instead, he allows the tip of his finger to breach, Satoru's lax body taking it so easily Suguru wants to sob with it. The tip disappears and then the knuckle, and by the time Satoru has taken the whole finger Suguru is so close to coming he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep it together.
"Holy—Fucking hell, Shoko—he's so hot on the inside." Suguru barely recognizes his own voice, he's so overcome.
Because Satoru is perfection. He's an inferno on the inside, molten, liquid addiction with the softest walls that are holding this single finger like they never want to let it go. Suguru is so hard it hurts, every breath hurts, and the only relief in sight is spread before him like an offering.
He's practically ripping off his pants, anything to get his dick free, to get him closer to Satoru.
Suguru adds another finger and nearly comes out of his skin when Satoru makes a soft sound, like a sigh, a breath maybe, but Suguru's mind wants it to be a moan. He wants it to be pleasure that caused that sound, but Satoru settles all the same, sleeping as peacefully as before, and Suguru is left to his own desperate wants as two fingers becomes three and the need to be inside the very subject of his dreams robs Suguru of all sanity.
He slicks up his cock, heavy and purpling from neglect, from watching Shoko, from touching Satoru like this, and Suguru knows without a doubt in his mind—he's going to lose a piece of himself to this boy tonight. He doesn't even care if he comes the second he's inside, there's no shame in how much he wants this, how desperately Suguru has prayed to whatever deity would listen for even the possibility of this.
And in that same breath he pushes the head of his cock against the now loosened ring, slipping so easily inside Suguru gets swallowed by the rush of pleasure at light speed. It was near unbearable when it was just his fingers, this—this feels…
"How does he feel, Suguru?" Comes Shoko's broken voice.
Suguru can't look at her, can't bear to take his eyes off Satoru for even a second as he all but chokes on his words.
"Divine. He's… God, he's perfect." Suguru slides home, hips rocking forward to sink fully into Satoru's body. "Thank you. Thank you for this."
Another shutter click, and then;
"Cum inside him. If it's your only chance it's worth it, right? Make it count."
Suguru wants to scream. "Shit, shit, don't say that—I'm so close, Sho." He's barely holding on as it is. And Suguru wants to savor this, wants to remember every detail of this moment for when things go back to normal and this bout of insanity ends.
"Don't hold back. Give him everything."
Suguru comes with his teeth buried so deep in his own lip he tastes blood as the most intense pleasure of his life crashes through him. There's no god, no enlightenment, no darkness, no happiness—there is only the feeling of Satoru milking his cock as Suguru pumps him full of cum.
It feels like it goes on for years, flashes of light behind Suguru's eyes that white out every thought and want and ounce of clarity in his mind. It's agonizing and literal ecstasy wrapped into one moment, a glorious handful of seconds, that ends with Suguru opening his eyes to see Satoru still blissfully asleep, completely unaware of how he's devastatingly changed Suguru's life.
"You look like you just went toe to toe with a curse." Shoko jokes softly, phone now nowhere to be seen.
"I think I did." Suguru pants as he slides out of Satoru with a wince, dick slowly going soft as he watches his cum leak out of Satoru's ass completely entranced. "Just not sure which one of you is the curse yet."
"That's an odd way of saying thank you, but you're welcome nonetheless." Suguru rolls his eyes, but thanks her all the same. She's not wrong.
He's about to ask her for a towel to clean them up with when one comes flying at his face.
"You're welcome. I'll grab some blankets for you two while you clean him up. Strip him down to his underwear and tuck him in. I'll dump a beer on his clothes and tell him we had to strip him when he passed out."
"That's…" Suguru sits there stunned for a minute. "That's surprisingly well thought out. When did you come up with it?"
Shoko's digging through the closet when Suguru hears, "Right around the time Satoru finished his third shot."
…oh.
Suguru's got Satoru all tucked in on a spare bed mat Shoko keeps under her bed, clothes in a pile on the floor to be washed in the morning, and is just settling in on the couch when his phone chimes with a new message.
The light damn near blinds him as he opens it, and Suguru squints at the video attachment and slew of pictures that appear on his screen along with a short text:
Our little secret.