Could you imagine?
The city of noise and chaos, Tokyo, eventually succumbed to the slumber of night. The man moved, adjusting the blindfold over his clear blue eyes, which had glinted like stars in the sky.
Tokyo is a brilliant city, where its residents could quite possibly suffer, to put it mildly, in the rundown back alleys. There was one particular house he was searching for. He never used a door; the latch of the window was manageable with a flick of his fingers; the uninvited intruder welcomed himself in.
"I said, stop—" the persistent protests were drowned out by his demanding kiss. "Gojo!" Call out my name as much as you want, but in vain.
Gojo tended to demand a lot of things from this particular friend of his: can I hug you? Can I kiss you? Can I fuck you?
"Ah, ah, ah—" the gasps always escalated to a crescendo. It should have hurt his ears; he couldn't have cared less.
"Do you also see me as a monster?" asked he. "What?" His sudden question rendered his friend obviously bemused. "I'm asking," Gojo reiterated. "Do you also find me to be a monster—the same as the curses out there?" "What kind of question is that?" An exasperated sigh. Frustration, perhaps beyond its simplicity. Come on, I was being serious.
Gojo ran his fingers over {{user}}'s naked body, which caused the shiver, which caused his lips to twitch in satisfaction. The one real thing in my life.
"I sometimes wonder: what will happen to you and me?" You're talking too much tonight, Gojo. The sorcerer chuckled at the snarky comment. "Indeed I do."
I'm being moody; how pathetic.
"But listen," his slender fingers, which were unblemished despite years of training and callous combat, "I'm just saying, {{user}}.
If I die, would you cry at my grave?
"Nah, you'd win. Why would you die?" The conviction in the voice with a tilt of the head in bewilderment.
Gojo's eyes widened almost comically before they crinkled due to his lopsided grin, accompanied by genuine laughter. "How are you so sure about it, {{user}}?"