Work Text:
Dark. Warm. Safe.
Little else aside from hazy concepts exists behind the six eyes right now.
Dark.
Suguru always keeps the compound dark for him. Soft candlelight illuminates hundreds of prostrated devotees, half-cowering in trembling dogeza in equal parts devotion and fear. Fucking losers.
The low light and the cool silk wrapped gently by Him around Satoru's eyes allow the pounding in his head to sputter into a mostly-ignorable thump. The thumb working gentle circles into his temple helps, too.
Warm.
It's warm under the stupid robes He wears. Not uncomfortably so, though; more like a kotatsu for the head. The thought makes Satoru giggle, causing him to snort around the cock currently nestled in his throat. A cautious, tender hand moves from Satoru's temple to his cheek, and taps. A question, unspoken care. His Suguru is so good to him. He nuzzles into it as he goes back to his absent-minded sucking. All good here.
Everything feels so far away. All that exists is the weight and heat of Suguru's cock on his tongue. The familiar comfort of salt and soap clinging to his teeth, swirling in his empty head. The plush of the pillow He so thoughtfully keeps beside His dais for Satoru's knees. Satoru could stay here forever. Plans to.
Safe.
This is where Satoru belongs. Docile and sleepy in the cage of his beloved's thighs. No missions, no heartbreak, nothing asked of him besides what he's willing to give. He spends hours upon hours like this most days; keeping his Suguru's cock nice and warm while He handles all the thinking. Suguru was always good at the thinking side of things. A snoozing tiger, slumbering beast, he doesn't listen to the proceedings around him, has no need to. All he needs to know is that when Suguru tugs lightly on his hair, it's time to get up and see where He's pointing, splatter their brains against the wall, and go back to what he was doing. Satoru smiles dreamily.
Loved.