Chapter 20: A Heart to Heart

(Rated M)

Satoru couldn't remember how or when he got home that night. His mission in Okinawa had been largely uneventful: Another special-grade needed to be exorcized from a retirement home. Nothing unusual. What was unusual, however, was him waking up on the living room couch and not in his bedroom like he expected. What the heck happened?

"Good morning," sang a bell-like voice.

The Six Eyes wielder looked up to see his wife standing near the doorway.

"Welcome home," she beamed.

Satoru blinked, looking at her head to toe. "Thanks…I think?" She was dressed in kimono with her long auburn hair and cheery smile, but there was something off about her demeanor he couldn't quite grasp. "You okay?"

"Mmhm," she hummed, but the way her smile curled into a very un-Hannah-like grin made his stomach pool with warmth and travel farther south. "You said you needed me for something."

"For something?" Satoru was thoroughly confused. "Like wha — ?"

She moved fast. In a heartbeat, Hannah was standing over him, nudging her knees between his legs and prying them wide apart. Satoru stiffened, "Hey, the hell are you…" but all rational thought flew out the proverbial window the second she knelt down and coveted his crotch with her hand. No warning, no permission granted, just got on her knees and grabbed it, digging her fingers between the fabric to fondle the juncture underneath. Satoru couldn't remember wearing jeans to sleep. Within seconds, his cock was swelling against his fly like a motherfucker, but that was peanuts compared to what she did next.

Showing him those innocent, puppy-dog eyes, she leaned completely in and took his zipper with her teeth, dragging it down very slowly. Too slowly. His mind went blank. Holy shit. Holy shit, she's really going to…The zipper came undone. She proceeded to hook her fingers around his belt loops, giving them a nice tug, and despite his better judgment, Satoru lifted his ass off the couch for her to shimmy the jeans past his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs. He spread his legs out for her. Wasting little energy, she slipped her fingers under the elastic band and peeled back the soiled cotton, letting his hard cock fully expand and stretch out. He heard her emit a cute little giggle, "It's so big," and before he knew it, she was stroking him up and down with those soft, hina-doll hands of hers, teasing the exposed head with the ball of her finger. Swallowing a moan, he threw his head back on the couch cushions, letting her ravish him as much as she pleased, unconsciously calling out her name. How so unlike him. Satoru preferred things rough. Really rough. Under normal circumstances he would've seized full control of the situation, grabbed a fistful of auburn hair and commence to manhandling her like Ann Darrow, but for some reason felt hesitant to assume the reins. Hannah wasn't built for that type of foreplay. It'd be no different than a lawn mower running over a daisy. And be perfectly honest, she was doing just fine without him.

"Does that feel good, Satoru?" she asked lustily, lowering her hands to begin massaging his swollen balls, his ultimate pleasure spot. "How about now?" The sound that left him was a cross between a ragged moan, and a delirious laugh. He curled his toes and sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't gotten a handjob like this in so long, maybe never. Wonderful. Her fingers felt absolutely wonderful, like he was being groped by a fairy goddess. She gave his ballsac a good, gentle squeeze, stroking his erect flesh up and down in an easy rhythm, working him in slowly then faster and faster. Soon the pressure began to build between his thighs. Satoru was reaching his limit, but his wife wasn't finished. Oh no, not yet.

She halted her ministrations, and Satoru's eyes landed on her mouth hovering dangerously above his tip, her soft puffs breathing on it. "Do you want me to, darling?" Hannah purred in a sultry English accent and unfurled her wet tongue, wagging in front of his aching cock enticingly. Her voice carried a spellbinding effect, and he found himself powerless to stop the fresh trickles of precum from dribbling out. "Oh, I think you do." she laughed, watching the secretions drip to the floor. "Just say the word, Satoru, and this mouth-pussy is all yours." Wait a minute, did she just say...nevermind. Satoru was so aroused he could care less what she said. His eyes began to water at the edges, ready for his orgasm to break any minute and release him from this agony. It was only a matter of time. He was breathing harder now, throbbing, pounding, focusing on how her open mouth inched closer and closer. Give it to me, baby. I'm ready.

He waited to feel her tongue swipe across the sensitive tip-flesh, gasping when her mouth fully enclosed around his manhood like a wet glove, pushing further inwards, holding him tight. Gritting his teeth, he tried his best not to buck, but felt the titillating moan emanating from the back of her throat, humming throughout his hips, and nearly lost all sense of propriety. He heard a lewd sucking noise, felt her head bob up and down and pull on him repeatedly. Something ruptured…

and then Satoru woke up.

Wide-eyed and panting, he jolted upright in the bed and looked down to see his very defined erection rising through the covers like it had pulled a massive prank. His nuts hadn't busted, but the throbbing was irritable. He was tempted to reach for the bottle of orange lube from his dresser drawer and finish the job. He had a condom stashed somewhere around here.

Instead Satoru exhaled a strained sigh. "Fuck." He had dreamed it again. The exact same as before: his wife jerking him off dumb before sucking him dry.

The wet dream made him feel detestably shallow, ashamed even. Like he'd sunk to a new personal low. Satoru no longer lived his life as the philandering playboy, to the extent he ever was one. That lifestyle got pretty tiresome, and yet the irogonomi image people often accused him of having, however short lived, was hard to dispel. That wasn't to say he abstained entirely. Satoru was still a male after all. There was always porn available and the aforementioned "pink salons." Gojo didn't like to admit he was once a frequent patron of these establishments, but being a jujutsu sorcerer came with its own stresses. And what easier way to relieve stress than having a pretty lady in a kinky maid outfit wash your dick with a warm towel and then blow you for less than a two-person meal at a sit-down restaurant? Some men treated the experience no different than a pedicure, though Satoru had grown discomforted by the way the women were often treated with poor pay and shitty clients, so he hadn't visited one in quite a while. But if gossiping spectators thought he was with a new partner every night, they were mistaken. Especially these days. Being assigned multiple missions at once, there was simply no time for sex and fooling around. As crazy as it was for Gojo to believe, he actually had responsibilities now. Responsibilities like a certain wife he had totally fallen in love with and whose relationship he might've jeopardized because of a kiss, which judging by her shell-shocked reaction, had obviously been her first. She was a virgin. So clearly a virgin. He had forgotten that.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he mentally scolded himself. You fucked up again, Satoru. You weren't thinking. He had been too eager, too hasty. His emotions had gotten in the way, fearing he made the wrong move. It wasn't like he was desperate. Hannah was worth more than a quick fuck. His intent wasn't to scare her, or use her to inflate his enlarged ego. He wanted to woo her. Properly.

Satoru checked the clock on his nightstand. 2:31 AM. No way was he going back to sleep. On nights like these, there was only one thing that worked to ease his restless mind.

Ignoring the huge semi burgeoning between his legs, Satoru groggily rolled out of bed, swiped some clean clothes from his dresser drawer, and minced down the hallway and tiptoed past Hannah's room. Making it successfully to the bathroom without waking his wife (the Six Eyes showed she was sleeping soundly for a change), he stripped off his soiled boxers and hopped in for a cold shower. He lathered and rinsed off, then quickly gave himself a clean shave, brushed his teeth, and got dressed; no different than any other after-midnight-self-care routine. The icy cold water succeeded in calming his erection and he could walk around better. Running a dry towel over his hair, he inspected his somewhat haggard reflection in the sink mirror. Were those dark-circles under his eyes? What an unwelcoming prospect. At this rate, he'd give Shoko's complexion a run for her money. The hairs along the back of his neck had grown out as well, giving him an uneven undercut. He would have to buzz them again soon, but not tonight. The bathroom wasn't that far from the bedrooms and it didn't take much for noise to carry in the house. If he tried trimming his hair now, the buzzer could disturb his wife, so without risking that whole fiasco, Satoru threw his dirty clothing in the hamper, keeping the towel on his head, and crept his way to the family room honoring Amida, the gods, and the deceased relatives he never knew.

He neatly folded the towel used to dry his hair on a chigaidana shelf above the rush flooring, and walked towards the ornate looking cabinet. He opened the black lacquered doors, bowed gasshō once to the gold Buddha housed in the kuden (case), and got on his knees, taking an incense stick and snapping it in half. He then struck a match. Lighting one end of the stick, he fanned it gingerly with his hand. Smoke began billowing out the side, a sweet fragrance permeating the room like a temple. Satoru breathed in the charred sandalwood and earthy florals, dropping the stick inside the incense burner (kasha), no bigger than a jewelry box, and placed the lion-dog cover back on. He lit the lantern and the four candles below, and took two steps backwards and bowed before sitting down.

Of course he didn't have to light the incense. He wasn't making an offering or chanting the nembutsu, but the smell always made him feel better; stilled his restless mind, his embattled soul. Sitting crossed legged on the floor, he rested his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, listening contemplatively to the incense twig crackle and snap, the altar candles burning, and the house eaves creaking from the gentle winds blowing in from the mountains. The Six Eyes could see through his eyelids, but if he rolled them downwards at just the right angle, he could almost pretend he were normal and the ocular technique didn't exist. The room was quiet. Dark. Relaxing. The only light came from the flickering candles, shrouding the room in amber-glow and shadow. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, unmoving, taking in his homely surroundings. Then his ears detected the soft thuds of footsteps treading ever closer, ending his peaceful meditation. They were too short to be Makoto's gate, so that only left one other person. Her soft footfalls got louder as she approached the butsudan room, seeming to halt near the doorframe. Satoru slowly cranked one eye open and looked over his shoulder.

"It's late. You should be asleep."

For a second nothing happened. The room remained as it was, until Hannah's auburn hair poked out the door frame. He had spotted her already hiding behind the wall like a chapel mouse.

"Sorry," she squeaked. Even with the candle flame, he could see the rosy blush forming along her freckled cheeks. "Do you have a minute? To talk, I mean."

He should've seen it coming. This was karma, wasn't it? Not good, not bad, just was. All roads leading to this precise encounter. He had to erase the lewd dream earlier from his mind. He could hear Makoto's lecture "Be a gentleman" a thousand times repeating in his head.

Breathing tiredly through his nose, Satoru massaged his weary strained eyes and twisted himself around to face her.

"Yeah. What's up?"

Garbed in a blue satin nightgown and robe, Hannah leaned forward and glanced nervously at the altar with the gold Buddha. Her long auburn hair was tucked in a braid like a cord and tassel. She had the same look of someone afraid they were breaking an entry. Sensing her hesitancy, Satoru waved her inside.

"You can come in here, Hannah. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Accepting his invitation, she looked around the room one more time and cautiously took a step. She had never physically been inside the sacred space before, passing it by regularly on her way back to her bedroom, but never fancying more than a quick peek. She could tell the butsudanwas quite old, perhaps older than the two century year old house it dwelled under.

The Gojo family had always been Buddhist to some degree, but had become loyal practitioners of Jōdo Buddhism (in secret) soon after the age of Hōnen and his pupil Shinran, with traces of Zen scattered here and there, switching at times between Jōdo-shū and Jōdo Shinshū, but adhering to the Jōdo school and the Primal Vow of Other Power all the same. Unlike other branches of Buddhism who placed stronger emphasis on Shakyamuni, Jōdo-Buddhism sought enlightenment through the guidance and intercession of Amida, the Buddha of Infinite Wisdom and Compassion. His gold statue was centered in the Gojo family altar, depicting him in an upright stance on top of a lotus flower, the right hand extended downward (yoga-in), the left held up with his thumb and forefinger touching in a circle (semus), welcoming all those ready to receive his message. A small contented smile graced his features as rays of plated gold crowned his head like a halo. She didn't know why exactly, but something about the imagery reminded Hannah of the Divine Mercy.

Beside the holy statue were two offerings of rice and an ikebana vase containing a bouquet of white lilies that Makoto watered and cared for next to a lantern. There was then a level down from the Buddha statue that displayed the smoking incense burner and a small ringing gong the shape of a bowl (rin) resting upon a pillow. There were additional ornaments and religious items plated in gold ormolu and expensive woods that Hannah did not know the names of, but as with most things about the Gojo family, the butsudan was a work of art. She looked again at the heavenly detailing and raised a thick eyebrow, becoming confused.

"There's no urn?"

Satoru shook his head. "Not everybody keeps their family's ashes in the home."

"Oh, I see." Hannah nodded in understanding. "Still, I didn't want to intrude out of respect. We're allowed to cremate in the Church, although the ashes have to be buried in the same spot."

"That's interesting. Now what is it you actually wanted to talk to me about?"

He asked this already knowing the answer, but wanted to hear her say it. Confirm it. This conversation they were about to embark was long overdue. The burning incense crackled. Hannah stared at the floor, anxiously twiddling her thumbs and avoiding his eyes, blushing, wondering how to start.

"Well…It's about the other day. I wanted to begin by apologizing for whatever I — " Satoru raised his hand.

"Okay, new rule. If I hear you apologize one more time for doing absolutely nothing wrong, I'm gonna throw this zabuton at you." He held up the velvet square cushion, preparing to take aim. Hannah shied away.

"B-But I heard you apologize. I thought that meant I did something bad?"

He pouted. "That's a really funny way of taking an apology from someone. It was me who was the bad actor. I'm the dumbass, remember?"

"You're not a dumbass," Hannah refuted. "And for what it's worth, you did nothing wrong either because I…" Pausing, she took a deep breath. You can do this, Hannah. Cressida told you to be honest, so be honest. You're not that nervous bride at the altar anymore. Her eyes went to the floor. "I really want this marriage to work. So, I want you to know that whatever happens, please don't take my initial behavior as rejection because that's not at all how I feel. It's just that," she began to ramble, her cheeks growing hotter, "Everything is new to me. I hadn't even held a boy's hand until now, and when you kissed me I-I wasn't sure what to do. I was afraid I'd mess up or annoy you somehow. Oh God, I'm so embarrassed for telling you this. You must think I'm — "

She was silenced by Satoru's tall stature rising from his seat and reaching out to cup her tiny hand. He was standing so close. She looked up to see the Six Eyes, an otherworldly shade of turquoise blue. What he whispered next took her by complete surprise.

"I like you, Hannah. Truly."

Suki dayo, Hannah. Hontō ni.

Japanese was a highly contextual language. There were multiple ways to decompartmentalize those two sentences. 'Suki.' That was the optimal word he had used. Similar to English, expressing how one 'liked' something was common vernacular: 'I like the color green.' 'I like baseball.' 'I like seven pumps of espresso with my caramel macchiato.' When used in reference to a person, however, the word took a deeper connotation. 'Suki dayo' wasn't a phrase you directed to just anyone, and yet he had directed it to her. Not favorite colors. Not baseball, or harmful amounts of caffeine. Satoru liked her. Her husband liked her. He had said so. Oh my days. The revelation had her suddenly feeling almost faint, heart bouncing back and forth between her eardrums and chest like a violent pendulum.

"You…You do?"

Her genuine surprise must've shown. Satoru let out a stray chuckle and nodded, turning her hand up to trace the dainty palm with his finger. She had to fight the urge to shiver from the touch. His fingers felt nice.

"You're a very kind person," he went on to say. "I like your warmth. How smart you are. How you're always able to see the good in people. The fact you'll go to great lengths to protect the innocent at the expense of your own life. That's a rare trait. You're stronger than you let on." He winked. "Pretty too."

"Really?" Hannah said, awestruck. "You think I'm strong?" And pretty? Gosh. No one had ever said that to her before.

He tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear and snorted. "Only a dimwit would be blind not to see it."

"Then," Hannah blinked up at him once more, "I haven't upset you?"

"No. All you've done is blame yourself unnecessarily for my faults."

Hannah's eyes returned to looking at their hands.

"So…what now?"

What now? That was the question she had asked him after the wedding, their first real conversation. He had dismissed her then, warning her to stay away. How shameful it looked now. Satoru didn't want to make the same mistake twice, but pushed this thought to the back of his mind and shrugged.

"Don't know. Either way, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Clearly, I've been spurned too many times on that front."

Hannah wasn't quite convinced.

"Won't that bother you though, knowing I'm not…ready?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "What? For sex?"

In the future, there'd be moments Hannah would find his straightforwardness untimely, but that wasn't the case here. It was actually rather fortuitous that he skipped right to the point. She could feel the warmth spread throughout her cheeks and nodded. His laugh was rich and hardy as he placed a reassuring hand on her head.

"Don't worry about that. Let's just take this one step at a time, okay? Marriage I'm told is a marathon, not a sprint. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it and see how you feel then." He flashed her a cheesy, closed-eyed grin. "Deal?"

Hannah couldn't refute that argument. Fr. O'Malley had told her all those weeks ago to avoid "90%" of what Satoru said and instead focus on what he did, but goodness, what a paradigm shift this night turned out to be. Sarcasm and jokes aside, a confession was the very last thing she expected him to say. How would she describe the emotion budding in her chest? Relief? Gratitude? Joy? Perhaps all three? It was more than one shy girl from Berkshire could ask for. If he weren't standing right there, she would've bursted into tears. He liked her, and while Hannah didn't voice it aloud quite yet, his feelings had not gone entirely unreciprocated.

"Deal."

Standing hand in hand under the flickering candle glow, husband and wife turned to look at the enlightened face of Amida, whose small smile seemed most pleased by the new development. The ice had broken. Harmony had been restored.

They would try harder to make it work from then on out.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

For this chapter's notes, please visit AO3 (Same name).

Tumblr: lovedrunkheadcanons

The official GTAW Discord server is on my profile page. Come join us. We'd love to have ya. (Might have to copy/paste the URL from the website and not app).

:)