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The heavy oak door of Atelier Velluto sealed them inside with a soft expensive thud. Crystal light spilled over dark wood and racks of midnight fabrics. The air smelled of cedar fresh wool and the sharp citrus bite of Gojo Satoru's cologne. Geto Suguru stood barefoot on the low fitting platform in front of the three-way mirror. His white dress shirt hung half-unbuttoned with sleeves rolled to his elbows. The open fabric revealed the hard sculpted lines of his chest and abdomen. Muscle earned from years of quiet precise violence rather than showy workouts. Black suit trousers sat low on his narrow hips hugging thick thighs and the firm curve of his ass. Long black hair spilled over one shoulder with a few strands framing his face. His cheeks carried a soft flush and his eyes were wide and bright with innocent amusement as he watched the tailor work.
This wasn't just any fitting. In the shadowed underbelly of Tokyo's mafia world the Gojo clan reigned supreme a dynasty built on ruthless efficiency old money and Satoru's unyielding grip on power. Satoru the heir apparent had clawed his way to the top through a mix of inherited privilege and personal brutality. His name alone could silence a room or start a war. But tonight's gala wasn't about dominance displays or territorial squabbles. It was the annual alliance summit where clans like the Gojo and their uneasy allies gathered under a fragile truce to negotiate territories shares in underground enterprises and sometimes bloody vendettas. Appearance mattered here. A perfectly tailored tuxedo wasn't vanity it was armor a statement of untouchable elegance amid the predators.
Geto Suguru wasn't born into this world. He'd come from the fringes a sharp-minded enforcer who'd risen through the ranks with a calm that masked his lethal precision. His loyalty to Satoru had started as a calculated alliance but evolved into something deeper fiercer. They were partners in every sense navigating the treacherous mafia landscape together. Suguru handled the subtle manipulations the quiet cleanups while Satoru wielded the flashy power. Their relationship was an open secret in the clans whispered about in dark corners as both a strength and a potential weakness. But no one dared challenge it openly not with Satoru's reputation for possessiveness that bordered on obsession.
That's why this fitting had Satoru on edge. He'd insisted on Atelier Velluto the most exclusive tailor in the city known for outfitting the elite from politicians to crime lords. Hiroshi had been handpicked his reputation impeccable but that didn't stop Satoru's jealousy from simmering. Suguru knew it all too well. Satoru's possessiveness wasn't new it stemmed from a childhood of betrayals and losses in the clan wars. He'd lost family mentors even early lovers to the violence. Suguru was his anchor the one thing he wouldn't share or risk. And right now with Hiroshi's tape circling too close that anchor felt threatened even if it was irrational.
Hiroshi the small bald-headed tailor with dotted sweat-slick skin and a charcoal suit that somehow looked too formal for how nervous he was looped the yellow measuring tape around Suguru's torso. His hands shook just enough to betray him as he pulled it snug under Suguru's pecs then slid it down to his waist.
"Arms a little higher please Geto-sama" Hiroshi murmured voice thin.
Suguru lifted them easily graceful even in partial undress. The tape brushed a sensitive spot along his ribs. A low melodic laugh slipped out.
"Haha that tickles" he said smiling down at the man with gentle patience. "You're doing great Hiroshi. Don't be so tense."
Hiroshi's ears went red. He nodded focused on the numbers but his fingers lingered when he smoothed the tape over Suguru's hip then lower circling the full rounded curve of his ass to get the proper seat measurement. His throat bobbed. Sweat rolled down his temple. He knew who these men were. Whispers in the tailoring circles spoke of the Gojo clan's reach how they could make or break a business overnight. One wrong move and Hiroshi's shop could vanish like so many others that had displeased the powerful.
Against the far wall Gojo Satoru had been leaning with arms crossed blue eyes narrowed behind his lashes. The second the tape dipped over that particular part of Suguru's body something snapped. Jealousy flared hot and immediate a familiar beast in Satoru's chest. He couldn't stand it the idea of anyone else's hands on Suguru even for something as mundane as this. It reminded him of too many close calls in their world where touches could turn deadly or deceptive.
He pushed off the wall so fast the movement blurred.
"Oi." One word. Sharp. Dangerous.
Hiroshi froze mid-measurement.
Gojo crossed the room in three long strides white hair catching the chandelier light like frost. Without asking without hesitation he snatched the yellow tape right out of Hiroshi's hands. The tailor yelped stumbling back a step.
"I'll do it myself" Gojo said voice low and venomous. He turned that glowing glare on Hiroshi full-force. "You're done touching him."
Hiroshi's face drained of color. He looked like he might actually faint. Everyone in the underground knew the name Gojo Satoru knew the Gojo clan heir didn't bluff didn't hesitate and didn't forgive easily. The tailor's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Memories of horror stories flashed through his mind tailors who'd overstepped with clients and ended up in the river or worse.
Suguru sighed recognizing the storm brewing in Satoru's eyes. This wasn't just about the measurement it was about control about the constant threats in their lives that made Satoru cling tighter.
He reached out and flicked Gojo square in the center of his forehead with two fingers sharp and precise the same way he'd done a thousand times before when Satoru was being dramatic.
"Ow!" Gojo whined instantly hand flying to the spot. "What the hell Suguru?!"
"You're scaring him" Suguru said calm and elegant even with his shirt hanging open and half the city's most expensive tailor cowering behind a rack of cashmere. "He's just doing his job. The job you paid triple to secure because you insisted on the best."
Gojo's lower lip jutted out in an instant full-on pout. The same pout that could make hardened yakuza lieutenants sweat suddenly looked ridiculous on the face of the man most feared in Tokyo's shadows. In the privacy of their penthouse Satoru could be like this whiny demanding but utterly devoted. It was a side only Suguru saw a vulnerability that humanized the mafia prince.
"But he was measuring your ass" Gojo complained voice pitching higher petulant. "My boyfriend's ass. My ass. I don't like it." The words tumbled out laced with that stubborn possessiveness that had defined their relationship from the start. Satoru had pursued Suguru relentlessly back when Suguru was just a rising star in a rival faction winning him over with charm threats and eventually genuine affection.
Suguru raised an eyebrow fighting a smile. "It's a fitting Satoru. That's how trousers get made." He kept his voice steady knowing how to navigate these moods. In their world where betrayals were currency Suguru's calm was the counterbalance to Satoru's fire.
"I can measure it better" Gojo muttered already looping the tape around Suguru's waist again this time with possessive slowness knuckles dragging deliberately over bare skin. "I know every inch of you. He doesn't." His touch lingered a reminder of nights spent mapping each other's bodies in the safety of their fortified home away from the clan's prying eyes.
Hiroshi still frozen near the curtain looked ready to bolt his mind racing with escape plans.
Suguru glanced at him voice softening. "It's fine Hiroshi. Ignore him. He's harmless when he's like this." Harmless was a stretch but in this context with Suguru reining him in it was true enough.
"Harmless?!" Gojo squawked pout deepening. "I'm literally holding a weapon right now!" He waved the measuring tape like it was a knife his dramatic flair on full display. It was moments like this that reminded Suguru why he loved him beneath the mafia facade Satoru was still that playful stubborn man who'd stolen his heart.
Suguru sighed again longer this time and reached up to cup Gojo's face with both hands. "Look at me."
Gojo's glare flickered then softened reluctantly when he met those dark steady eyes. Those eyes had pulled him back from the brink more times than he could count during clan wars or internal power struggles.
"You hired him" Suguru said slowly enunciating each word like he was speaking to a stubborn child which in this moment he absolutely was. "You wanted the best tuxedo for the gala. You said and I quote 'Only the best for my pretty boyfriend.' So let the man do his job or we're going to be late and you'll be the one whining about that instead." The gala loomed large in their minds a night where alliances could shift with a single conversation or glance. They needed to present a united flawless front.
Gojo's pout somehow got even more dramatic. His cheeks puffed out. Those brilliant blue eyes went big and wounded a look that always tugged at Suguru's resolve.
"But he touched you" he mumbled voice dropping to a sulky whisper. "I don't like when other people touch what's mine." The words carried weight echoing the scars of their past. Satoru had nearly lost Suguru once to a rival clan's ambush a betrayal that had left Suguru scarred and Satoru more protective than ever.
Suguru's expression softened. He brushed a thumb along Gojo's sharp cheekbone tracing the line he knew so well.
"I know" he murmured. "But I'm not going anywhere. And no one's taking me from you." A small teasing smile curved his lips. "Especially not a nervous tailor with sweaty hands." He leaned in closer their breaths mingling a quiet reassurance amid the opulent shop.
Gojo huffed but the feral edge in his posture eased a fraction. He still held the tape possessively though wrapped loosely around Suguru's waist like he was staking a claim refusing to let go completely.
"Fine" he grumbled. "But I'm finishing this part." Stubborn to the end but willing to bend for Suguru.
Suguru rolled his eyes fondly. "You're impossible."
"You love it."
"Debatable."
Gojo leaned in pressing his forehead to Suguru's their worlds narrowing to just this moment. "Say you love me more than the tailor."
Suguru laughed quiet warm the sound that always unraveled Gojo's worst moods melting away the tension. "I love you more than anyone. Please refrain from murdering Hiroshi today." In their line of work murder was a real possibility but here it was just hyperbole a joke between lovers.
From behind the rack a very small terrified "I-I'm just going to get the jacket" floated out. Hiroshi's voice trembled but he was trying to salvage the situation knowing his livelihood depended on pleasing these clients.
Gojo ignored him nuzzling into Suguru's neck instead. "You're so mean to me" he whined against skin. "Flicking my head in front of people. Humiliating your big scary boyfriend." His arms wrapped around Suguru pulling him close a possessive hug that spoke volumes.
"You're only scary until I put you in your place" Suguru said voice velvet-soft but edged with that effortless authority. He tugged Gojo's hair lightly a gentle reprimand. "Now behave. Let Hiroshi finish or I'm wearing last year's suit and you can explain to the clan why their precious heir's arm candy looks outdated." The clan elders already eyed their relationship with suspicion seeing it as a distraction. They couldn't afford slip-ups.
Gojo groaned dramatically but he finally stepped back just enough to let Hiroshi creep forward again reluctant but obedient under Suguru's influence.
The tailor looked like he'd aged ten years. His hands shook as he took the tape back from Gojo who handed it over with exaggerated reluctance and one last murderous glare a warning etched in blue fire.
"R-right" Hiroshi stammered. "Just the final hip measurement Geto-sama."
Suguru lifted his arms again calm and unruffled his poise a stark contrast to the chaos Satoru brought. "Go ahead."
Hiroshi worked fast very fast keeping his eyes glued to the tape and nowhere else avoiding any perceived overstep. Gojo stood close behind Suguru now arms crossed pout still firmly in place glaring daggers at every single movement Hiroshi made his jealousy simmering but contained for now.
When the tailor finally stepped back scribbling numbers Suguru turned to Gojo with a look that said behave without needing words a silent communication honed from years together.
Gojo huffed but the second Hiroshi disappeared into the back to fetch the jacket he crowded in again hands sliding possessively over Suguru's hips thumbs pressing into the exact spots the tape had just measured claiming them anew.
"Mine" he muttered pouty and petulant and utterly shameless his voice a whine that belied his power.
Suguru tilted his head back resting it against Gojo's shoulder allowing the intimacy. "Yes Satoru. Yours." The words were a balm soothing the raw edges of Satoru's insecurity.
Gojo's pout softened into a smug little smile satisfaction blooming. He kissed the side of Suguru's neck slow claiming lingering there to inhale his scent a mix of clean soap and something uniquely Suguru.
"Next time" he mumbled against skin "I'm measuring you naked. At home. No creepy bald guys allowed." The promise carried heat a hint of what awaited after the gala when they could shed the public masks.
Suguru chuckled low and amused. "Deal." He turned in Gojo's arms facing him now their eyes locking in that intense way that shut out the world.
When Hiroshi returned with the half-finished jacket Gojo let him drape it over Suguru's shoulders but only after shooting one last warning look that said touch him wrong and they'll never find your body a silent threat hanging in the air.
Suguru caught the look in the mirror and sighed fond and exasperated shaking his head slightly. Satoru was incorrigible but that fire was what had drawn Suguru in kept their bond unbreakable amid the mafia's dangers.
As Hiroshi pinned the shoulders adjusting the drape with careful precision Suguru admired the reflection. The tuxedo was coming together midnight black fabric that would hug his frame perfectly. It wasn't just clothing it was a symbol of their status their unity. At the gala Suguru would stand by Satoru's side not as subordinate but as equal a quiet force that commanded respect. They'd navigate the politics the subtle threats from rival clans like the Zenin or the Kamo who always probed for weaknesses. Satoru's jealousy here was trivial compared to the real battles but it humanized him reminded Suguru of the man beneath the heir.
"You're going to look stunning" Gojo murmured from his spot against the wall his pout finally fading into genuine admiration. "Everyone's eyes will be on you. But remember who you belong to."
Suguru smiled elegant and beautiful turning slightly to let Hiroshi work on the sleeves. "As if I could forget. You're impossible to ignore Satoru."
Hiroshi finished the pinning stepping back with a nervous bow. "The alterations will be ready by tomorrow Gojo-sama. Perfect for the event."
Gojo nodded curtly his earlier glare softened but not gone. "Good. Make sure it's flawless."
As they left the shop Suguru slipped his hand into Gojo's their fingers intertwining a rare public display in their cautious world. The city streets buzzed around them oblivious to the power walking among them. In the back of their armored car en route to the penthouse Suguru leaned against Satoru reflecting on the day.
"You know" he said softly "your jealousy is cute but one day it'll get us in trouble."
Gojo smirked pulling him closer. "Let it. As long as you're mine I don't care."
Suguru laughed shaking his head. In the mafia's endless game of shadows they were each other's light, an unbreakable pair.
Some things never changed.
The strongest most feared man in the underground could be reduced to a whiny pouting mess with one flick to the forehead and a stern word from his gorgeous unflappable boyfriend.
And Suguru wouldn't have it any other way.