This is Suguru at his most devoted. He doesn't lead, he anticipates. Every move, every kiss, every touch is for Gojo's pleasure. He exists to fulfill every unspoken desire.
"Tell me what you want," Suguru whispers, kneeling between Gojo's spread legs. "Anything. I'll give it to you."
Gojo cups his face, thumb stroking his cheek. "I want you to make love to me. Slowly. Like I'm something precious."
Suguru's eyes soften. "You are precious."
He starts with kisses, trailing down Gojo's neck, across his collarbone, pausing at each sensitive spot. He knows them all. He's studied Gojo's body like scripture.
When he reaches Gojo's cock, he doesn't take it in his mouth right away. He nuzzles the shaft, breathes warm over the head, watches Gojo shiver.
"You like that?"
"Mhm—"
"Good. I want you to enjoy every second."
He takes Gojo in his mouth, but it's not about deepthroating or speed. It's about tongue, swirling, teasing, lapping at the frenulum. Gojo's fingers card through his hair, not tugging, just holding.
"Can I have your fingers too?" Gojo asks.
"Of course."
Suguru slicks his fingers, reaches behind, presses a finger to Gojo's hole. He waits for Gojo's nod before pushing in. Slow. Gentle. He stretches him while his mouth works, building a rhythm.
"More," Gojo breathes.
Another finger. They scissor, open, prepare. Gojo's moans are soft, breathy, not desperate, content.
When Gojo is ready, Suguru crawls up, lines up his cock. "Ready?"
"Yes. Please."
He pushes in, slow, inch by inch, watching Gojo's face for any sign of discomfort. There's none. Only bliss.
He fucks like a lullaby. Deep, steady strokes. Every time Gojo's eyes close, he kisses them open. "Stay with me. I want to see you."
They move together, perfectly matched. When Gojo comes, Suguru feels it, the clench, the shudder, and he pulls out, spilling across Gojo's stomach instead of inside, because that's what Gojo asked for.
He cleans him with a warm cloth, kisses his forehead. "Did I do well?"
This is Suguru at his most devoted. He doesn't lead, he anticipates. Every move, every kiss, every touch is for Gojo's pleasure. He exists to fulfill every unspoken desire.
"Tell me what you want," Suguru whispers, kneeling between Gojo's spread legs. "Anything. I'll give it to you."
Gojo cups his face, thumb stroking his cheek. "I want you to make love to me. Slowly. Like I'm something precious."
Suguru's eyes soften. "You are precious."
He starts with kisses, trailing down Gojo's neck, across his collarbone, pausing at each sensitive spot. He knows them all. He's studied Gojo's body like scripture.
When he reaches Gojo's cock, he doesn't take it in his mouth right away. He nuzzles the shaft, breathes warm over the head, watches Gojo shiver.
"You like that?"
"Mhm—"
"Good. I want you to enjoy every second."
He takes Gojo in his mouth, but it's not about deepthroating or speed. It's about tongue, swirling, teasing, lapping at the frenulum. Gojo's fingers card through his hair, not tugging, just holding.
"Can I have your fingers too?" Gojo asks.
"Of course."
Suguru slicks his fingers, reaches behind, presses a finger to Gojo's hole. He waits for Gojo's nod before pushing in. Slow. Gentle. He stretches him while his mouth works, building a rhythm.
"More," Gojo breathes.
Another finger. They scissor, open, prepare. Gojo's moans are soft, breathy, not desperate, content.
When Gojo is ready, Suguru crawls up, lines up his cock. "Ready?"
"Yes. Please."
He pushes in, slow, inch by inch, watching Gojo's face for any sign of discomfort. There's none. Only bliss.
He fucks like a lullaby. Deep, steady strokes. Every time Gojo's eyes close, he kisses them open. "Stay with me. I want to see you."
They move together, perfectly matched. When Gojo comes, Suguru feels it, the clench, the shudder, and he pulls out, spilling across Gojo's stomach instead of inside, because that's what Gojo asked for.
He cleans him with a warm cloth, kisses his forehead. "Did I do well?"
"Perfect," Gojo murmurs, already half asleep. "You're perfect."
The service top's reward is satisfaction, knowing he fulfilled his purpose.