Twilight slips into night, and the penthouse is cast into a stark chiaroscuro of dark and light, silver and shadow, ivory and sienna. The kitchen is unattended, but evidence of its use is everywhere: Dishes in the sink, a pot of jollof rice, still warm from recent preparation, a cutting board and knife abandoned on the counter. The living room too, is unattended, but evidence of its use is everywhere.
A button-down shirt tossed carelessly over the back of the couch, the pillows strewn about. A pair of panties on the floor, a t-shirt next to them.
Silence subsumes the penthouse, and yet in one room, beneath a massive skylight, there is the sound of ecstasy reaching toward heaven.
Asabé thinks this is what dying feels like.
She's on her back, staring at the stars overhead, her senses soaked in the sight, scent, and sound of Satoru Gojo ravishing her. Wet, languorous squelching emerges from between her spread thighs, and she imagines what she must look like: a pinned butterfly, Satoru's strong hands wrapped around her thighs to keep them spread as wide as possible, and his inhuman strength holding her still while she writhes, Satoru's silver head situated perfectly between. They look like a work of erotic art.
"S-Satoru…!" She cries out, throwing her head back, lips parted, lifting her hips to match the rhythm of his hungry mouth, of his thrusting tongue. A pair of galactic blue eyes peer up at her, merciless and tender, even as his lips seal over her swollen clit to suck rhythmically. He doesn't seem phased by her pleas, by the whine in her chest, the way her heels press into his shoulders, her toes curling.
"I'm going to...I'm going to…gnh fuck…!" Asabé lets out a long, throaty cry as she climaxes, spilling a clear wash of slick into Satoru's mouth and down his chin. She's dripping, gushing, and shaking as if she's going to come apart if he doesn't keep his grip on her. Her thighs quiver in his grasp, and she pants, spending her energy on additional mewls and whimpers.
Satoru moans around her clit, licking it tenderly, almost as if he's complimenting her pussy on being so good for him. To him. He reluctantly pulls away with a wet smack, licking his lips to taste all of her. It's the third time tonight. He's had her in the kitchen, on the counter, legs spread, panties pulled to the side. He's had her in the living room, on the couch, her panties dangling precariously from her foot as he put her legs in the air. He even had her in the hallway, albeit briefly, stroking her with his fingers until she spilled onto his hand and he carried her to his bedroom to spill her onto the bed.
"You're doing so good, baby," he says, his voice slightly husky. He strokes her thighs tenderly, maintaining that strength and keeping her pinned. "You're capable of more, though, and I want it all. And you want to give it to me, don't you, baby girl?"
Asabé looks at him with glittering honey-hued eyes, her expression helpless in the face of such a wild and insatiable request. She nods. Satoru's eyes are like a benevolent winter, cold but compassionate.
"Say it," he orders. "Tell me how badly you want to give yourself to me. How much you want to come for me."
"I want to come for you," Asabé whispers. "I want you to make me come until I can't…"
Satoru smiles, and there's a tender cruelty in it. He squeezes her thighs, looks down at her exposed cunt. It's swollen and glistening and dripping. He wants to go in for a second tasting. He wants to spend the rest of this assignment sucking on her clit like a Jolly Rancher until she comes enough to give her fucking brain damage. She tastes so fucking good he wants to bottle her flavor and put it in a candy just for him. A pussy pop. He chuckles to himself. What a marvelous idea.
"Mmm, baby, this is another talent of mine," Satoru says, and he's already crawling up her body, trading his grip for his hips to keep her thighs spread. Asabé catches a glimpse of his cock, so hard it brushes against his belly, and she can feel the heat of it against her moist cunt. Satoru reaches over her, grabbing a box of condoms from the nightstand.
"Help me put this on so I can fulfill my husband duties, baby girl," he says with a charming grin. She laughs, tearing it open. It's a favorite brand of hers, and tenderly she grips his cock, delighting in his hiss. She places the condom on the swollen head of his cock, rolling it down slowly to the base. Fuck, he's so long and thick she knows it's going to hurt so good. The thought makes her wetter. Gojo doesn't miss it either, he's grinning in anticipation and amusement that she's so eager. As if he's always known this would happen.
"You can take it," he murmurs tenderly, easing his cock into her inch by delicious inch. "I know you can, baby. You're so strong for me, so wet for me, so goddamn ready."
Asabé whimpers as he sinks to the hilt inside of her, her arms coming around him. They're face to face, now, with him anchored deep within her, her thighs lifted, her legs linked loosely around his waist. For a moment, they simply wait, and she breathes deep, tightening her slick, velvet cunt around him. He shudders in her embrace, leaning in to nip her lush lower lip.
"Naughty girl," Satoru coos, clucking his tongue. "You ready?"
Asabé nods wordlessly.
When Gojo begins to move, she realizes she's ready, but not ready for how good it feels. The first withdrawal of his hips, of his cock sliding out of her and then slamming back in, Asabé's mouth drops open in a soundless cry. Gojo's eyes are blazing, his pupils blown wide, an expression on his face that scares her and thrills her all in the same breath.
His speed increases, and suddenly he's in a steady rhythm, something primordial and ancient. Her nails dig into his back and shoulders, heels pressed into his lower back, urging, urging, urging.
"Mmm…harder, please…!" She hears herself beg, unable to help it, as if every drag of his cock pulls a little bit of her soul out with it. For a moment, Satoru does not adhere to her plea, and instead slows down, torturing her with long, languorous strokes just to change the pitch and length of her moans.
"Ooooo god…" Her nails drag down his back making him hiss. She's going to draw blood and he finds he doesn't mind it. He wants to wear the stripes she gives him, wants to look and see that he can be touched when he wants to be.
"Tell me what you want, baby girl," he teases, still moving his hips in deep, long strokes. Asabé looks at him, her gaze unfocused, her mouth trying to shape something akin to what she desires, but the only thing that she can say is his name.
"What's that?" He asks. "Is it me you want, baby?" His hips jerk forward, burying his cock into her so roughly it bottoms out and makes her choke. She clings tighter.
"You have me," he growls. "You've had me since I first looked at you. But I've got you too, don't I? Tell me you want this. Tell me you need this."
Asabé can't help it.
"I want this…!" She cries and Satoru fucks her harder, making her cry out. "I need this…!"
Satoru leans up, looking down at her.
"Damn right you do," he says, reaching to push her legs over his shoulders. "And I'm going to give it to you, baby. You want it? You want to come all over my cock? Want me to claim you?"
"Yes!" Asabé sobs, unable to bear the pleasure from this new, deeper angle. Gojo leans forward, folding her in half. Asabé's hands go to the sheets, fingers curling into a white-knuckled grip as she braces herself.
And Gojo gives her exactly what she wants, fulfilling her demand, and slaking his desire. He fucks her like a man possessed, like he's got something to prove, like he heard her siren song and was coming to make good on the promises her voice fed him. And the whole while he can feel the burning damnation of that seal around her neck, her damned wedding ring pressed between them like the final barrier between their fucking souls. Gojo wants to tear it off, wants to break that ensorcelled chain and toss it away. He wants to unleash her, and feel her in full.
But he doesn't, and instead he watches her come undone around his cock, again and again. He wrings her limp with sweat and tears, and then he flips her over, dragging her hips up and shoving a pillow under them. Before she can register what he's doing, he leans over, spreading her thighs wide, and spits directly into her cunt, watching it drip.
"Mmm…fucking gorgeous…" He hums in approval before fisting his cock and guiding it back into her. This time, he watches as her hands curl into the sheets, her lovely profile contorted in a rictus of ecstasy and shock, and he doesn't hesitate to set off to a punishing rhythm.
Throughout the penthouse, there is only the sound of skin slapping skin, and the staccato gasps and moans of a woman who has had her very soul stolen by the Honored One. But as Gojo leans over, covering her hands with his own, and lacing their fingers, he feels as if every tight squeeze and spasm of her cunt is stealing his soul right back.
Asabé's vision goes white, and all she can focus on is the sensation of Gojo's big cock stretching her, every inch of his stroking her walls, rubbing that little plane of nerves that make her feel as if she's going to combust, until she does with a hoarse cry, shuddering against him.
"That's it," Gojo coos, maintaining his pace. "That's a good girl. Give me another. Give it all to me. You're mine, now. I've got you."
Such beautiful words. And Asabé feels vulnerable enough to believe them. Is this acting? Is this genuine desire? It has to be for how intense it is.
She gives him another. And then one more.
"Mmm…" Gojo lets out a growling moan. "You're taking this cock so well, baby. And your pussy feels like heaven. I don't want to leave."
Asabé finds words in the haze of her pleasure. "Then don't."
Something in her words sends a tingle down his spine, makes his balls tighten in response. He wants to lose the condom, wants to come in her again and again until she's overflowing and dripping with his essence. He wants to put a fucking baby in this woman. Fuck.
It's that last thought that sends him over the edge.
His thrusts become rougher, and he reaches down to hold her hip while he plows into her.
"Mrn! That's right…take it, baby. Take this fucking dick. Let me hear you."
Asabé sings for him, her voice reedy and split, and Gojo gives her one last thrust, growling and moaning and whimpering as he empties himself into the condom, wishing it was her.
In the stillness of the aftermath, there is only their mingled panting. Gojo peppers Asabé's neck, shoulders, and spine with soft, affectionate kisses, his tongue snaking out to taste the salt of her sweat. Every part of her tastes divine. He'd drink her damn bathwater if she let him.
Reluctantly, he pulls out, slowly, and both of them groan from the sensation. Asabé shivers. After catching his breath, he rolls over, and Asabé spots a very full condom as he walks to the bathroom to dispose of it. Part of her wishes he would come inside of her. She can picture it, her cunt swollen and abused, dripping with his come and hers. The thought makes her tingle all over and she lets out an involuntary giggle.
"Something amusing?" Gojo asks, returning from the bathroom. Asabé forgets all thoughts and simply stares at him. She hasn't gotten the chance to truly look at him, as their coming together was so forceful and consuming there was no time to savor the sight of one another, only the need to slake their mutual desire for each other.
Satoru Gojo is without a doubt the most beautiful man she has ever laid eyes on.
His body is a work of martial art, sculpted and honed for combat, housing an even more dangerous mind. His skin is taut over that lean and compact muscled frame, the color of pale ivory, with just a flush of peach in the undertones. A scar, old and pink, runs the length of his torso all the way up to his neck. She wonders who gave it to him, wonders who was strong enough to land such a blow on the untouchable sorcerer. Her gaze slips lower, biting her lip as her cheeks flush warm at the sight of his cock. Even soft it's formidable, and she can't imagine how she was able to take it all.
She supposes that's why he made love to her with his mouth three times before deigning to fuck her. By that time she was so wet he could have slipped his whole fist in there.
"Like what you see?" Gojo asks smugly. His eyes are glowing in the darkness, and he approaches the bed with an easy confidence born of years of knowing he is special, knowing he is the best. Knowing he alone is the strongest.
"Yes," Asabé whispers. "It's hard not to, Satoru. You are so beautiful."
Gojo tilts his head, grinning. Preening more like. But he's studying her too.
His Six Eyes tell him everything. Her heat signatures pooling between her thighs, blooming on her cheeks. The way her heart races when she meets his gaze, the parting of her lips, the soft little intake of breath. Her eyes are so beautiful, guileless and blurred with recent pleasure, glimmering like bronze and honey and gold. Her hair is a little mussed, stray curls framing her beautiful face.
A scar, silvered and fairly recent, curves around her belly. He knows where it's from: she'd been torn open in the car accident that took her husband's life. And on the brink of her own death, she—like him—had discovered how to use reversed curse technique to knit herself back together. He understands her the way no one else can.
Asabé feels even more naked beneath his scrutiny, despite actually being naked already. She makes a move to get up and leave the room, but Gojo seizes her by the wrist.
"Stay," he says softly. "Just for tonight. You shouldn't sleep alone."
Asabé looks at him, doubtful. He lifts her hand, kisses her knuckles.
"I promise to behave myself," he says with a smile. "Unless you want me to be bad. I'll behave, but I'm really hoping you'll let me be bad at least once before you flee my charms."
Asabé laughs despite herself.
"Are we still being watched?" She asks. Gojo momentarily forgets what she means, but then realizes. At some point, he forgot this was a show they are putting on for the spies circling them. If it's reported she's fucking him, that she's with him, the mission will go well. Nevermind if the lines are a little blurred. It'll work itself out in the end.
"Do you honestly care?" He asks her. Asabé's cheeks flush, even as Gojo pulls her closer.
"No," she whispers. "But…I don't want us to…get too…mmm…" His lips have found her throat and her thoughts seem fuzzy and unimportant suddenly.
"What is it, baby girl?" He murmurs hotly, his deep voice reverberating against her skin. "Anything you want, name it."
Asabé wants him. She wants him so bad it makes her crazy. She wants to push him down, mount his dick, and ride him until he sees stars. She wants to ride his face until it's soaked with her, until she's the only sweet thing he wants on his tongue. She wants to fuck him all over this damn penthouse on every surface, in whatever positions their bodies are physically capable of holding. She wants him to open his goddamn domain and fuck her there too, whatever that entails she doesn't care. In her eyes are all the answers he seeks and he knows it. He grins like a satisfied wolf with blood on its muzzle and room for more prey to hunt.
"You really are a naughty girl," he laughs. "I have to wonder how your husband handled your appetite."
It's like ice water. A shock to the system. A shattering of delicately spun glass. Asabé pulls away abruptly. Gojo realizes his mistake, and for once the strongest sorcerer—the fastest sorcerer—is too late to stop the chain reaction of his thoughtless words.
"Shit," he says, reaching for her, but she slips from his grasp, and he sees the seal glow against her skin, her cursed energy beating against its borders. An ordinary curse user wouldn't be able to detect it but nothing escapes the piercing sight of the Six Eyes. He's struck a raw nerve in her. She's livid. "Fuck, Asabé, I'm sorry. That was…I shouldn't have said that."
"It's fine," she says quickly. Too quickly. Her heart constricts. "It's fine." She tries to convince herself.
But Gojo can see it's not fine. He reads her with his sight and sees he's momentarily broken the spell their mutual desire cast on them both. Of course he had to open his fool mouth about her dead husband. And she loved that man! Fuck.
Asabé bites her lip.
"I should go shower and get to bed," she says and Gojo feels a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Goddamnit.
"Thank you," she says, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Chaste compared to everything that came before. "I needed this."
And then she leaves the room, taking all the joy and light with her. Satoru stands in a shaft of moonlight, cursing his own foolish pride.
Asabé regrets leaving as soon as she does it. She wants so badly to turn around, run back to him, tell him his words did not harm her, but they did, and she has her pride, after all. But still, after everything they've done together she feels something alien in her when she crawls into her empty bed, smelling of him.
Shame.
The realization is like a fist to her gut, and she curls in on herself, biting her lip on an unexpected sob. Had she ever been happy with Jin? A year without him and already that life—that painfully ordinary life—feels like a dream. From the moment she realized her family would come for her, to the moment she laid eyes on Satoru Gojo…everything before feels like someone else's life.
Who had she been when she was with Jin? A quiet housewife, no children to speak of because Jin was reluctant. His mother had poured poison in his ear about marrying a foreigner. Jin never could overcome the hurdle of his own shame and self-loathing. And Asabé remembers her fury.
It comes back to her in a rush. That's what they had been arguing about. Children. She'd wanted children and he didn't.
The rain had been so fucking heavy that day, and she'd been wearing the seal, and they'd been on the road for hours. Her senses were dulled. The domain blended so easily with the mountain road and she didn't see. And Jin couldn't see.
We attract misfortune with our gifts.
So she had said to Satoru not scant hours ago, and so it is true. She could have saved Jin had she not sealed herself. Had she not been so afraid to be what she has always been.
How did your husband handle your appetite?
Asabé laughs through her tears. Oh, he didn't. Jin was as ordinary as they came. He'd not thought on ways to prolong pleasure, to indulge, to savor. Sex was a duty to him, and obligation at the worst of times, and an excuse for him to get off at the best. But Asabé doesn't remember being fully present. Everything about that life had been painfully ordinary. And she had wanted children so badly. Motherhood called to her like her own song turned against her. And Jin had refused.
And then she met Satoru.
Satoru is a star amongst gems. A meteor streaking across everyone's sky: beautiful, destructive, and life-changing. Everything about him is so much, but never has Asabé seen someone so ardently hungry for life. Where others sip from the cup of life modestly, or worse: let it pass them by untasted, Satoru drinks deep. He is thorough in everything he does, deadly serious even beneath that cheerful, laid-back exterior.
She wanted him from the moment she laid eyes on him with no blindfold. Nothing between her and those stolen pieces of heaven that pass for his eyes. He makes it so easy to fall for him she feels foolish. It's a role to him, she reminds herself, part and parcel to the protection detail and the ruse they're putting on for the benefit of fooling her father's enforcers. But part of her feels sick. If he can do this so easily with her, how many others has he provided this service for?
Her mind reels until finally, exhausted, she sleeps, slipping down into the blissfully dreamless dark.
Breakfast is awkward. Gojo wants to laugh because it's almost as if they are married, with all it's attendant foibles. Asabé's demeanor is cold when she makes her coffee. Great, she's playing the role of the cold bitch wife. He supposes he has to play the role of indifferent husband. So he does.
"I've got work to do at the school today," he says in a tone that just barely crosses the threshold of professional. "You've got run of the penthouse, of course. And Ijichi and Kimura are on call if you need anything done or to go anywhere."
Asabé looks a little surprise, and he watches her pulse leap a little, her heartrate increases.
"How long will you be gone?" She ventures. Careful, trying to sound indifferent when her vitals are screaming for him to stay.
"Depends," he says nonchalantly, slipping on his blindfold. "Don't wait up for me."
Before Asabé can register the dagger of his words, he blinks out of sight. There's no sound, no record of his ever having stood there. He's simply gone. Asabé doesn't want to register why this exchange feels like the beginning of a heartbreak. She's gotten to know him over the course of a few days, yet when they talk it feels as if they've known each other for lifetimes. He's so easy to talk to, and he listens well. For all his arrogance, he listens to her like no one else in her life has. And he hears her…and sees her.
She deserves to live a life where she doesn't have to seal her power.
And he's right. He's so fucking right. For the last five years she has kept a vital part of herself sealed away, claiming it was to keep Jin safe but really she is scared. Scared of what she's capable of, scared of what her family will do when they catch her, and scared of what lengths she will go to keep the small scrap of freedom she has.
Since Jin died, she has been beholden to no one. She hasn't spoken to his family since the funeral, and even then, only the requisite words of respect due to the widow were exchanged. All ritual and ceremony.
"Mschewww," Asabé sucks her teeth contemptuously. She is tired of these people treating her like an interloper and afterthought. "Agbaya." Directed at one Satoru Gojo.
Asabé grasps the sealing chain that holds the ring that keeps her cursed energy undetectable. She pulls it over her head, tosses it onto the kitchen's island counter. Then, she exhales for what feels like the first time in almost a decade.
Yes, a voice inside of her crows in relieved triumph. YES!
Asabé's cursed energy spills from her like champagne and fire, expanding and filling up all the space in the penthouse. She sees for the first time, why Gojo's home is so secure.
Every single window, from the living rooms, to the bedrooms, and even the skylights…are inscribed with cursed energy seals. It is elegant work, complex work, too complex for her to comprehend outright. Whatever it is, it keeps curse users at bay, and contains whatever cursed energy is released inside.
She can feel her power pressing against it, feels the tingle as the seals press back. Solid. Unbreakable. Gojo is a fucking genius, and he would have to be, having been hunted since birth. It doesn't matter, she's free, and she's done hiding. If he wants her at her full power, he'll have her.
Somewhere, Satoru Gojo smiles in satisfaction.