𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕 - 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓

GOJO SATORU WASN'T SURE HOW HE GOT BACK TO THE HOTEL. One moment he was there; the burning sensation of shame mixed with lust lingering on him while the fake image of Mikazuki faded into the shadows, the next he was standing in his room, door locked while the moonlight filtered in through gaps in the blinds.

An entire day, gone, completely wiped from his mind, either by the obfuscating power of The Beldam or by his own treacherous mind. It didn't take Satoru long to settle back into his old self, even with the singing touch of the creature still haunting him. The sorcerer tried not to linger on the feeling, trying to supress it so far down it would never resurface again, but even as he stripped himself naked, there was a small part of him that lingered in the feeling.

Satoru was no naïve man and although he'd kept his opinions to himself, he hadn't missed how much Mikazuki changed since her return. She'd always been innocently soft and pretty with a young rounded face and eyes full of stars, but this older version of herself was tantalizing in an entirely different way. Unlike her eighteen year old self who had been quiet and reserved, this version of Mikazuki was... sinful. Tempting, even. If it had been anyone else, Satoru wouldn't have thought twice before ensnaring her to his bed.

He'd been looking, too. How could he not, when every part of the woman appealed to him? Mikazuki was the complete opposite of how she'd been ten years ago, and although her past left hadn't done anything to awaken the fire within him, this older version could fuel his flame for an entire decade. Kinzoku Mikazuki was pure sin – with her wide hips, long curves, big thighs and large plump chest, she was the closest Satoru could think of to a goddess in human flesh.

The sorcerer discarded his shirt, tossing it aside on the bathroom floor before quickly jumping out his trousers. He was still half-hard, his member laying flat against his belly while he worked his way out of his underwear. For a moment, he stilled, wondering why his body betrayed him this way. The creature roaming him hadn't been Mikazuki, it was nothing but a cheap copy of the woman, with half her wits and twice the sex appeal – it wasn't real.

It's not real. It's not real.

How many times had he gone back to that particular thought, hoping it would save him from the terrible reality that laid in his pants?

It's not real. It's not real. It's no–

And yet, just the thought of it made his cock jerk wantonly, his primal urges surfacing for a brief moment before Satoru was forced to shove the thought back down. He would not think of this, not when he was still trying to rid himself of the Curse's wretched touch, not when he could still feel the ghost of its fingertips padding away across his chest. Satoru let out a hollow laugh, somewhat amused by the strange feeling that settled over him as his true weakness became apparent. He'd accused The Beldam of tricking him, but they both knew it had been nothing but a cheap excuse so he wouldn't be faced with the hard – well, semi-hard, now – truth.

The sorcerer exhaled sharply, pushing the cheap plastic curtain before turning the water on to the coldest setting available. The water almost burned to the touch, yet Satoru didn't think twice as he positioned himself under the stream. He let the water wash the thoughts away, let it rid him of his lust along with the terrible lingering stench of the Curse. Satoru stood there, petrified under the cold while his mind raced a hundred miles per hour.

Satoru closed his eyes while he slowly massaged his head, almost as if he was trying to pry it open to expel his own treacherous thoughts. He couldn't stop thinking about it – any of it, really. Every time he blinked, the images trailed behind his eyelids in a tantalizing yet terrifying daze.

Today's mission had gone as terrible as it could get and, although the memory of his own failure should haunt him, Satoru couldn't help but find himself falling back into that moment. There he was, pressed against the trunk of the tree, with Mika– The Beldam's hands on his bare chest, her tongue in his mouth, her large breasts firmly pressed against him.

The thought was enough to completely nullify the effect of the water and, before he could help himself, Satoru was once again as hard as a fucking rock. Gojo cursed silently, hitting the tiled wall of the shower before he let himself rest against the cold material. He laid there for a moment, a silent question building in the back of his mind. Satoru shook his head, still under the cold stream of water.

He couldn't think, not when every single thought somehow lead him down the same road. Nom he couldn't think, not for a single second. Because thinking was bad. Thinking lead to remembering... And remembering lead to a raging hard on, apparently.

"Fuck." Satoru mumbled as he pressed his forehead against the wall. "Fuck. Fuck. I'm so fucked."

He wanted to hit the wall, to shatter this sorry-ass excuse of a tile pattern and smash his fist to grind it to dust. But what he wanted most of all, was to grab his cock and shove it into Mikazuki's mouth. Damn, he really was fucked, wasn't he?

"Fuck. I can't believe I'm doing this."

Better to be an open sinner than a false saint.

Finally, he punched the wall, the delicate porcelain of the tile shattering under his knuckles. There was no blood, no reaction from him other than the gaping indentation of the wall. Spurred by his own attitude and the sinful memory of Mikazuki's body pressed against his, Gojo held himself up against the wall with one hand, his other one slowly sneaking down his torso before firmly grabbing his cock.

His body jerked in response, his starved member throbbing under his palm at the sudden jolt of pleasure that inundated him. He could feel goosebumps crawling under his skin, his own body rejecting the thought and knowing what he was about to do was ten different kinds of wrong. None of it seemed to deter him though, as he found himself fisting his erection and slowly moving up and down, pumping himself with vigour while his hips jerked with each stroke.

 Satoru's whole body tensed at the wrongness of it, frame trembling as wanton lust coiled in his belly. He should have felt ashamed, felt completely and utterly devastated by his actions, but none of this seemed to register while he continued to fuck his hand, Mikazuki swimming in his thoughts. Gojo closed his eyes, imagining the wall in front of him was replaced by a kneeling figure, mouth open and waiting for his release. Satoru increased the pace, adjusting his position against the wall as his cock pulsated under his hand.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

There were no thoughts in his mind, nothing other than lust and sinful pleasure. He was completely unhinged, his erratic heartbeat matching the pace of his hand as it continued to move up and down his shaft, chasing the high with such intention it made his mind fuzzy. It was a slow descent into madness, his own nature betraying him in the worst way possible. This wasn't how it was supposed to go – this wasn't how he was supposed to feel about her.

Satoru closed his eyes, tipping his head back as pleasure washed over him with each stroke. He could it, the pressure building up inside of him, looking for some sort of release. His pace slowed, then quickened once again, this time with no rhythm and no goal, just an endless spiral of desire. Before he knew it, Gojo grunted, pressure building up until he exploded all over his hand and dripping down the shower wall.

The sorcerer breathed out heavily, resting his forehead against the tile once more. His hand was still sticky and filled with cum, the substance clinging to his skin while the water washed the rest of it away. Satoru closed his eyes, silently cursing himself while his cock softened against his thigh, the reality of what he'd just done hitting him like an armoured truck.

Fuck.