Star-Crossed Rivals

Broken

Ever since she young, Utahime had been practical. She had always anticipated every possibility, choosing to abandon unrealistic expectations and silly dreams. It was part of why she had made such a great assassin.

But for the first time in her life, every one of her carefully thought predictions were proven wrong. She'd thought she would wake up in a prison cell, but instead found herself in a penthouse. She'd thought Gojo would be disgusted by her story and cast her away, but here he was – sitting by her side, comforting her, kissing her.

His lips were soft, earnest, pressing against her own with a quiet desperation that blazed hotter by the second. She sat frozen, trembling, and she knew he could feel it. Feel her still crying, even now.

He broke the kiss, eyes trained on her mouth. He swiped a finger along her cheek, leaned in again, and started kissing away her tears one by one.

She gasped at the feeling of it, and warmth blossomed through her face, down her spine. Her thoughts of the past rippled, fading to the furthest pools of her mind.

"Are you sure you want this?" he breathed.

Utahime ran a shaking hand over his suit, following the rich burgundy of his tie until she reached just below his neckline. "You really get on my nerves." He stilled, withdrawing slightly, but she tightened her hold on his tie and pulled him back in. "But I've never wanted anything more, Gojo."

His mouth crashed into hers, and she could taste the saltiness of her tears on his tongue. He grabbed her by the waist, pinning her body against his until not an inch separated them. With heartbreaking gentleness, he pushed Utahime down onto the bed, supporting her until her back hit the sheets.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and over the back of his neck. His hands roamed over her body, up her waist, to the edge of her breasts. A moan left her lips, and his tongue gained entry, exploring her mouth.

She tugged at Gojo's suit, and it was off in an instant, followed by his white dress shirt and tie. His sculpted body tensed under her fingers as they swept over his abdomen and travelled down, nearing the seam of his pants.

"You're moving fast," he rasped, and his voice broke when her hands grazed over him. "But I'm planning to take my time with you, 'hime."

Gojo took hold of her wrist and guided it away. His mouth found hers again, kissing her until her face was damp not from tears but from his lips. The straps of her dress slackened, and he moved to pull them down. 

His fingers brushed just beyond the inflamed skin of her shoulder, but the slight pressure was enough to make Utahime flinch. Eye-watering agony shot through her body, and her head swam.

Gojo's expression steeled. "Fuck...we shouldn't do this in your condition."

"No, it's okay. It's not that bad..."

He let out a long, pained sigh. Gojo looked to her wound which now bled from multiple broken stitches. "I'll hurt you if I go any further."

Utahime shivered as he ran the back of his hand over her face. Fiery need still kindled in her veins, but exhaustion and pain began to creep in, smothering it. 

Gojo's touch was gentle, careful, like she was a porcelain doll he was afraid to break. Slowly, her disappointment morphed to relief, and her muscles relaxed as she sank into the mattress. Her eyelids grew heavy and fluttered closed. 

This must be a dream, she thought. But, even in her dreams, she had never imagined being treated with such tenderness by someone who knew her true identity. If it is a dream, I hope to never wake from it.

Utahime leaned into his hand, face flushed, shining hair disheveled by the sheets. Finally, she willed herself to open her eyes.

Gemstones of cobalt and aquamarine met her gaze.

Gojo was looking at her like she was a priceless treasure – a fountain of youth which could grant him eternal life, if only she stayed with him through every moment of it. "You're breathtaking." He whispered.

She couldn't take it. What had she done to deserve that look in his eyes – that look of passion and awe and...forgiveness? 

Utahime turned away. She traced the thick scar spanning through her right cheek and over the bridge of her nose. "You don't have to say that."

He pushed away her hand, following the line of the scar with a featherlight touch. "What do you mean? Are you ashamed of this?

"I–"

He cradled her face. "When I see this scar, I see a woman who can go through anything and still come out on the other side smiling. And you have the most gorgeous smile, Utahime." He brushed his thumb over her nose. "I love this scar – it reminds me that there's still so much I want to learn about you."

Her nose scrunched as she looked up at him. He still had her caged between his arms; his hair fell against her forehead, white as the snow falling silently outside. "All we've done up until this point is lie to each other. How can you still want this? Want me?"

"I'm willing to take a chance on you." He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she feared he could feel the furious beating of her heart. "If only you weren't injured, I could show you how much I want you."

Utahime pressed her hands against his chest to push him off. He didn't move. "You know, I've been ordered to kill the man who stole the artifact."

"It would be a turn on to watch you try. I have a thing for deadly women."

"Don't be a pervert!"

"I can't help myself around you."

Utahime sighed, giving up. His body was almost crushing hers, but his presence felt safe. Secure. "You'll get in trouble with your agency. They'll find out about this."

Gojo smiled, and for a brief instant he looked more villainous than she ever had. "I'm the strongest member of the PSIA. If someone has a problem with this, they'll have to go through me."

Utahime's brows raised. "Are you the humblest member, too?" 

"Naturally." He moved to sit up. "Utahime...if you're really trapped, let me help you. Let me save you. Please."

The sincerity in Gojo's voice took her breath away, even though his words were absurd. It wasn't possible to escape Q, not with your freedom or your life. But, in the meantime... He's willing to try. He's serious about this. About me.

That knowledge drowned out everything else – the pain, the sadness, the uncertainty of what her future held – until only he remained in the center of it all. Her world narrowed to the image of a striking, powerful man, silhouetted by city lights and stars. 

It was an image she could look at for centuries and never grow tired of.

She pulled him in and kissed him.

Gojo laughed into her mouth, and the sound reminded her of wind chimes and church bells. "You're still bleeding. Let me grab you a fresh towel."

He hopped off the bed, standing, and then froze. Ever so quiet, Utahime heard a tiny crunch sound from under his feet. "Shit."

"What happened?" Utahime winced and turned onto her side, following Gojo's gaze to the floor by the edge of the bed.

The pocket watch lay next to his wrinkled dress shirt and suit on the carpeted floor. It was cracked open in two pieces, the back plate having come off entirely. 

From within its interior, a panel of silver metal and plastic glinted in the moonlight. Gojo leaned down, picking it from the mess, and held it in front of them. Utahime's hand flew to her mouth.

"It's...a flash drive."