Pausing this here lel sorry it’s 4:28am and I am sleepy i will come back in a few hours

when he remembers the way Osamu held his hips down, hands splayed against his lower stomach, pressing down as he swallowed more of his cock. It was slow, thorough, methodical, all-consuming heat.

The memory is almost enough to get him to a quick orgasm.

Except—

Incoming call: Samu 🍙

swallows at the thought of Osamu's tongue swirling on his cock, and the dizzying, wet sensation of his mouth taking him in, one inch at a time.

It's enough to make him slip his lube slicked hand under his sweats now, and groan softly as he gives his cock a pump. Two. Three.

Rintaro bites his lip+

his stomach.

It's clearly only an insignificant amount though, as his mind easily drifts back to Osamu's face between his legs, hands yanking his pants off, and the feeling of wet, sloppy kisses being pressed against his shaft, his cock leaking an embarrassing amount of precum at the tip. He +

the fact that Rintaro remembered Osamu, not too long after, held up a huge daikon, claimed he could cut it thinly into a long strip without it breaking, and then proceeded to fuck it up in the first 30 seconds of trying.

The memory makes him laugh, and lets a twinge of guilt settle at the pit of +

in his black, classic Onigiri Miya compression shirt, grinning for the camera. Coyly, playfully grinning at Rintaro through his screen.

"Fuckin' hell Rin," he remembers Osamu teasing, "Put the damn phone down and keep yer own eyes on me instead."

It'd be a hot memory to jerk off to, if not for +

opens them again to try and fight the feeling.

Ugh. Fuck it.

Swallowing his pride, Rintaro gets up to grab his phone and some lube from his drawer. He chews on his lip when he lays back down, legs spread, one hand moving to palm his cock through his sweats, the other swiping open a photo of Osamu+

ears tinted with the prettiest shade of red Rintaro has ever seen.

"Please?" He asked softly, pleaded, chewing on his bottom lip. "Want you— no, need you in my mouth now, Sunarin. Fuck, I need you so badly, you have no idea."

Rintaro groans and rubs his eyes roughly, his vision swimming when he +

as if it was his last meal on earth.

Now, his arousal and fluttery, jittery feelings of affection are jumbled up and swirling at the pit of his stomach, and Rintaro fights the urge to give into his impulses.

Ugh.

He remembers Osamu unzipping his pants, head tilted and leaning onto his thigh, +

prepared him for how things transpired between them that night. How Osamu reaching for a glass behind him while they were sitting next to each other on the couch turned into him leaning into Rintaro's space, kissing him, before going between his legs and sucking on his fucking dick and savouring it+

at Inarizaki turned into nights over at each other's houses. When days spent with each other doing the dumbest shit felt more like being at home than actually being in his house. It was something he accepted — that Osamu thought of him as a good friend. The best, probably.

Nothing could have +

they aren't actually together.

All this time he thought that what he had was a one-sided infatuation for the Miya twin. It was something he accepted back when they were teens —when their friendship bloomed under the blaring glow of their school gymnasium's ceiling lights, when hours together +

Like a sick joke, his device starts glowing where he left it on the bedside table, beckoning to him like a siren, taunting him.

Neither he nor Osamu have acknowledged the blowjob he gave Rintaro just before his latest overseas trip.

Which is fine.

At least it would be, if not for the fact that+

Not me noticing a typo 30 million business days later omfg *IWAIZUMI