Chapter Text
“Fuck,” Motoya gasps.
It feels like his hips are being torn apart. His thighs shake from the pressure of being almost completely bent in half, but Rintarou’s hands stay firm against his back and shoulders, nails pressing into the exposed skin of his neck when he resists the stretch.
“Don’t stop,” Rintarou whispers into his ear, pressing even further. “Just a few more.”
Motoya closes his eyes and tries to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. He pushes his hips back as far as he can and groans deeply, the stretch pulling out the tension in his spine.
“Good,” Rintarou hums, letting Motoya sit up slowly. “How’s that feel?”
Motoya takes stock of himself and the loose feeling in his back and thighs. All the tension he was holding before has simmered into something much more bearable.
“That’s so much better.” He flops back onto the gym floor. Motoya raises his thigh to his chest and holds it there to continue his cool-down stretches. “Thanks.”
Rintarou lies next to him and does the same and turns his head to look at Motoya while they stretch. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself like that.”
Motoya averts his eyes and stares up at the ceiling while he counts in his head before switching legs.
“I know. But I never notice I have until I get all achy and stiff.”
“What’s the trainer say about that?”
“Ice and stretch.”
Rintarou hums in discontent. He extends his leg upwards for a different stretch, and Motoya pretends not to stare at how it accentuates the tight muscles in his calf and thigh. His muscles flex when he lowers his leg back to the ground with practiced control before repeating on the other side.
Motoya forces himself to look away. He’s been trying to keep his staring (and drooling) to a minimum.
It's hard though.
Rintarou's naturally so pretty, and he keeps himself in great shape. And now Motoya knows what he looks like naked and panting underneath him, which has become somewhat of a double edge sword.
It's partially incredible. Motoya's always had an overactive imagination, so adding in some real-life visuals has given him some top-notch material to jack off to.
But it's also horrible for the exact same reason. His imagination runs a little too wild when they're at practice and Rintarou's shorts ride up or he exposes a few hickeys while tipping his head back to drink his water. Motoya's been fighting for his life not to pop a boner in front of his team every single day.
It's pathetic, really.
At first he was embarrassed about all his staring and fantasizing, but then he caught Rintarou doing the same thing to him more than a few times. It's even worse when Rintarou does it because he never bothers to look away when Motoya catches him.
He just grins like he knows that it makes Motoya nervous.
And he's right. It makes Motoya's heart race every time. Just like it does when he thinks about what Rintarou looks like full of his cock and begging and- nope.
Those are the kinds of thoughts he has to force out of his head and take cold showers to forget.
Even with Rintarou's staring and generally unaffected demeanor, Motoya knows better than to think that he'll be returning to his and Osamu's apartment anytime soon.
He stopped letting himself think that his night with them was more than a one-off thing when Osamu didn’t come to a team game night.
In the four years that Motoya and Rintarou have been on EJP together, Rintarou has made it clear that he will not attend team functions that aren't mandatory unless he can either: A. bring Osamu. Or B. get absolutely wasted.
And none of them have ever seen Rintarou wasted.
Osamu's been a more than welcomed guest at every team bonding activity they've ever had — that was until their most recent game night. His absence was noticed by everyone on the team.
Motoya felt it especially hard since he felt entirely responsible for Osamu not being there.
It’s not like he can blame Osamu for avoiding him either.
How's he supposed to feel after having an impromptu threesome with his boyfriend's teammate? And taking his virginity, no less. There's an undeniable weight that can carry, and Motoya has done his best not to think much about the implications.
Even if the virginity thing wasn't what bothered Osamu, Motoya's sloppy performance probably didn't help the situation.
An impromptu threesome with his boyfriend's teammate and the sex was bad? Even more of a reason to never want to look Motoya in the eyes again.
That's harder for Motoya to avoid thinking about.
He's replayed the night a million times, and every time he finds new things to be embarrassed about. He was so loud and unsure and never quite knew what to do with his hands. Maybe he’d said the wrong thing, or tried to get a little too close. Maybe spending the night was the wrong move.
He spends more time than he should wondering what he could have done to change Osamu’s mind.
“Friday should be a good practice match,” Rintarou comments, stretching his arms above his head. “Aran said he’s been working on a new serve, so you better be ready.”
He’s grateful that Rintarou’s been able to keep things somewhat normal between them. Aside from the sneaky staring and Motoya’s own awkwardness — it’s like nothing’s changed at all.
Motoya sits up to let his sore body relax for a minute. “You know I’m good at picking up jump floats.”
“How do you know it’s a jump float?” Rintarou asks, brows furrowed. “He hasn’t even told me that.”
“I guess Atsumu was giving him pointers and someone on MSBY found out. It started this huge fight over helping enemy teams. Everyone was taking sides and then Atsumu and Bokuto didn’t talk for like four days, which is crazy ‘cause they’re always talking.” Motoya laughs and wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt. “It was a whole thing.”
Rintarou gapes at him. “Why are you more up to date on their drama than I am? News outlets call me first when big MSBY news breaks for a reason.”
“Kiyoomi,” Motoya shrugs. “He gets really pissy when they’re not all focused solely on volleyball and complains to me about it. I like drama, so I encourage it.”
“You have to fill me in when stuff like that happens!” Rintarou complains, nudging him with his elbow. “Samu says that I start melting if I don’t get new gossip every few days.”
“Like water on a witch.”
“He says it’s like drama on a bitch.”
Motoya snorts, "Sounds about right."
Rintarou stands up and holds out a hand to help Motoya up.
Motoya pretends he doesn’t notice the gesture and pushes himself to his feet, avoiding unnecessary skin-to-skin contact. It helps him separate himself from everything.
It keeps him from getting his hopes up.
Rintarou’s jaw ticks, and Motoya avoids his eyes.
“Suna!” Washio calls, running up beside them. “Who’s working at the shop tonight?”
“Osamu and Li. Why?”
“Aki won't be there?”
“Aki’s out of town until the end of the week. She’ll be back Saturday.”
“Oh,” Washio huffs.
“You got a problem with Osamu and Li?” Rintarou asks, raising a brow.
“No, that's not it,” he says quickly. “Osamu’s the best! I’d take his onigiri over anyone in the country."
"But?"
"But Aki and I have a-” He gestures to himself suggestively and Motoya grimaces. “We’ve got a spark.”
Rintarou rolls his eyes. “Osamu’s taking off this weekend, so she’ll be running the store. You can have as much time as you want with her.”
“Thank you!"
“Off the clock,” Rintarou adds sternly. “Do not go in there and distract her.”
Washio frowns at him. “Come on, Suna. You know that I’m not a sleaze.”
“Mhm.”
Washio argues his point all the way back to the locker room, but Rintarou doesn’t seem to care what he has to say as long as he agrees to keep his hands off Osamu’s best worker when she’s behind the counter.
When Washio busies himself with a new disagreement elsewhere, Rintarou turns to Motoya.
“So, Toya,” he hums, the nickname sweet on his tongue as he takes a half step closer.
“Yeah?”
Rintarou leans his shoulder against the locker next to Motoya’s, staring openly as Motoya changes out of his practice clothes. Motoya tries his best not to blush.
Be normal. Be normal. Be normal.
“Are you busy Saturday?” Rintarou asks coolly, his eyes drifting down Motoya’s torso and stopping at the waistband of his sweats.
“Uh... No? Well, actually I normally call my mom for an hour or two on Saturdays. But that's kinda it.”
“That’s sweet,” Rintarou hums. “You wanna come over after?”
Motoya’s heart drops into his ass. “Uhm… Do you want me to come over?”
"Why else would I ask?” Rintarou raises a brow. “Samu wanted to meet up again earlier this week, but I didn’t want you to be sore for the practice match."
“He did?”
Rintarou looks at him for a long moment with that intensity in his gaze that makes Motoya squirm. “Yes.”
Motoya’s mind reels, trying to figure out how he’d read the situation so fucking wrong. Osamu suggested they meet up again. Osamu, who he thought was the one who pulled the plug on everything to begin with.
It takes him far too long to respond because Rintarou’s mask starts to go up and he drops his expression into something entirely neutral and unreadable in an instant.
“It’s fine. I already told him I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he says dully, turning away.
“Wait no-” He grabs Rintarou’s arm and tugs him back. “I am.”
“You are what?”
“Interested.”
“Then why are you being so fucking weird?” Rintarou snaps, finally letting his frustration be known.
Motoya picks at his nails. “I didn’t think you guys wanted to- ya know... Do anything with me again.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well because you haven’t mentioned it at all, and then Osamu didn’t come to game night and-”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
“I don’t know! I thought that he was avoiding me," he admits, face burning. "And you can’t avoid me so I thought you were just being nice.”
“Osamu was in Kyoto running his food truck at an event.” Rintarou seems completely unphased by Motoya’s anxieties. “And you’ve been busting your ass between practice and running those libero workshops, so I didn’t want to distract you.”
“Oh,” Motoya swallows, practically shoving his head into his locker to hide his blush. “That’s nice of you.”
“I was wondering what's been up with you,” Rintarou grumbles, poking Motoya hard in the side to get him to look at him. “I don't like being ignored, Motoya."
"I'm sorry! I thought-"
Rintarou rolls his eyes. "Doesn't matter what you thought. Didn’t I tell you to your face that we’d wanna see you again?”
“Well yeah, but-”
Rintarou takes a step closer, practically pressing himself up against Motoya’s side. “Or did Osamu’s dick actually melt your brain?”
“Suna!” Motoya hisses and glances around at the others still milling around the locker room, but they’re all too rowdy and distracted to pay them any mind.
"You're getting a little red in the face," he comments, tipping Motoya's chin up to meet his eyes. He grins wickedly and Motoya's stomach swoops. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong!"
"Good." Rintarou brushes his thumb over Motoya's bottom lip and then pulls back entirely, going back to his locker. “So you’ll come over on Saturday then?”
“Yeah! I mean,” Motoya clears his throat, trying to act at least a little bit casual. “Yes. I will. Just give me a time and I’ll be there.”
Rintarou sees right through him.
“Sounds good.”
Rintarou changes out of his practice clothes, and Motoya doesn't make himself look away. He's still got fading bruises from Motoya's teeth all over him.
“Don’t think about Saturday too much," Rintarou says when he pulls a fresh shirt back on. "Can’t have you off your game Friday.”
“Sure!” Motoya says, accidentally slamming his locker shut way too hard and earning a few funny looks from his teammates. “Sure. Yeah. I’m not gonna be thinking about it at all!”
Rintarou snorts, “Sure, Motoya."
Rintarou was right to doubt him. Motoya does think about Saturday throughout the week.
He thinks about it a lot.
In his defense, it's hard to think about much else when Rintarou told him so casually that Osamu already has a scene planned out for them.
A scene.
Motoya had to look up what that even means and got led down a rabbit hole about BDSM and dom/sub dynamics and a bunch of other things he'd never even heard of before.
He spends an entire night clicking through articles about ropes and edgeplay and whips and collaring and-
In the end, he's lucky he only takes one spike to the face before the practice match comes around.
At least Rintarou thinks his nosebleed is amusing.
The Falcons show up to the practice match without their primary setter and down a first-string blocker. On top of that, their libero and captain seem to be coming down with the same stomach bug that took the other two out to begin with.
EJP wipes the floor with them, but none of them feel great about it. Aran does his best to hold things down, but Motoya picks up every one of his serves and the fill-in setter can't seem to set high enough for him no matter how much he tries.
It's not challenging enough to really wear Motoya out, so he's already in his own head by the time they get to the locker room.
He stares at Rintarou openly when he comes out of the shower in nothing but a towel, asking their trainer to help him work out a tweak in his shoulder.
Motoya stares, and Rintarou soaks up the attention with an impish grin.
“See you tomorrow,” Rintarou hums, patting Motoya’s ass as he squeezes past him in the crowded locker room. “Osamu texted you right? Two P.M..”
“Y-yeah!” Motoya agrees, suddenly flushed. “See you then.”
Osamu has texted him. Several times.
The first few messages were nice and innocent. A greeting, a time for Motoya to come over on Saturday, and a short note about how excited he was to see Motoya again.
Then, Thursday after practice, he received another ping.
Miya Osamu
[Osamu]
Do u think u can keep from touching urself until Saturday?
Motoya nearly threw his phone out the window.
How the hell is he supposed to respond to something like that? How is he supposed to think straight and keep his boner down when Osamu can get him that worked up from that one text alone?
As impossible as it is to agree to something like that, Motoya's need to please overrides his goblin brain that wants to jerk off just to see what Osamu will do to him.
Miya Osamu
[Motoya]
ya of course!
[Osamu]
Good boy
Looking forward to seeing u Motoya ;)
He never responded to that one.
And by Friday night, he's somehow managed to hold up on his side of the deal. A few cold showers are well worth whatever Osamu has planned. He tries to hold onto that mindset when he lays in bed at 3 A.M., hard as a rock and wanting nothing more than for Osamu and Rintarou to absolutely tear him apart.
Patience has never been Motoya's strong suit, but he's determined to do just what Osamu asked of him.
He just wants to be good.
Two cold showers and a painfully long conversation with his mom later, and Motoya finds himself staring up at the 16 on Osamu and Rintarou's apartment door.
After waiting all week and practically pleading for time to move faster — staring his fate in the face is a whole other can of worms. He wants it so bad. He wants them so bad, but the door between him and whatever the rest of the night holds seems like a much larger barrier than anything he could have mentally prepared for.
Motoya feels like his brain implodes when Osamu opens the door. If he’s jaw dropped and drooling, he doesn’t know it. All he can do is stare.
“Sorry, Motoya,” Osamu rasps, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
He's clearly flustered, but Motoya's more interested in the fact that he's shirtless and wearing these tight black jeans that hang low on his hips and hug his ass just right.
He scratches the back of his head nervously. It's like Motoya's caught him at an embarrassing time, even though Osamu had been the one to set the time for him to come over to begin with.
“I had other plans tonight, but Sunarin-” Osamu shakes his head and takes a frustrated breath. "Things got a little outta hand.”
Motoya glances at the belt thrown over Osamu's shoulder and thinks about all those impact play articles he read a few nights before.
"That's alright," he says, trying to give Osamu a reassuring smile, but he can feel the heat in his cheeks. It's hard not to get flustered with Osamu's eyes all dark and wild like this.
Osamu seems surprised but pleased by Motoya's calmness and steps back to let him into the apartment. Motoya takes off his shoes and hangs his coat in the genkan while Osamu leans back against the front door and watches him.
The intensity in his stare only adds to the effect his disheveled appearance is already having.
Motoya fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt, only raising his gaze to meet Osamu’s when he realizes he’s been staring at the dark hair dusting his chest and belly and trailing under his waistband. Osamu grins at him when their eyes meet, and there’s something predatory about the way his eyes move freely over Motoya’s body.
It’s like he’s being sized up.
“Is- is everything alright?” Motoya asks cautiously.
“Nothing ya need to worry about,” Osamu hums. He raises his hand to touch Motoya’s cheek and then hesitates for a long moment — like he’s questioning if he’s allowed to touch him.
Motoya makes the choice for him and leans his face into Osamu’s palm. Osamu smiles and a hoard of butterflies erupts in Motoya's stomach.
Osamu presses his thumb into the hinge of Motoya’s jaw to tilt his head back, and Motoya's breath catches in his throat when their lips barely miss contact.
Osamu ghosts his lips over Motoya's ear instead. “You’ll be good for me right, sweetheart?” he whispers.
Motoya nods furiously, choking out something that sounds close enough to a yes.
“Good boy.” Osamu kisses his jaw, and Motoya shudders. “Can I kiss you?”
“Y-yeah!”
Osamu wastes no time bringing their lips together. He’s gentle despite his clearly frazzled state, guiding Motoya with a hand at the base of his neck and long, languid movements of his mouth.
Motoya fumbles to do something with his hands, but just ends up clinging onto Osamu's shoulders and trying not to make a fool of himself.
“Sunarin’s been runnin’ his mouth,” Osamu explains, kissing down his jaw. “Got himself into a bit of trouble.”
“Sounds about right.”
He snorts and lays another kiss at the corner of Motoya’s mouth before pulling away. He runs his fingers down Motoya’s arm, lacing their fingers together.
“I really don’t wanna scare ya off, Motoya.” Worry creases between Osamu’s brows. “I wasn’t thinkin’ right when Rin started backtalkin’. I wanted to keep things a little more tame for ya, but it just got outta hand so fast. I had my head in the scene, and—”
“Osamu,” Motoya says, squeezing his hand. “You’re worrying too much.”
“Am I?” Osamu huffs a laugh and runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I just don’t wanna overwhelm you, is all.”
“I trust you.”
Osamu lets out a shaky breath and his lips tip up in a hesitant smile. “I love hearin’ ya say that.”
“I’ll have to remind you more, then.”
Motoya pulls him forward by the hand, and Osamu dips down to catch his lips again. Big hands curl around Motoya’s hips, pulling him even closer until he feels the press of Osamu’s bulge against his stomach.
“Osamu!”
Motoya pulls back at the sound of Rintarou’s voice in the other room — broken and shaky, and so incredibly angry.
“He’s been whinin’ for you,” Osamu tells him as he guides Motoya to the bedroom with a hand on his hip.
“For me?” Motoya repeats, surprised.
“‘Course, sweetheart.”
Osamu pushes their bedroom door open and Motoya’s jaw drops.
‘Out of hand’ is definitely one way to explain Rintarou’s current predicament — sat on his knees with his hands cuffed to the bed frame in front of him. Rintarou’s ass has been beaten in thick strips of red and purple from Osamu's belt.
“He thinks you can save him,” Osamu whispers into Motoya’s ear, laughing darkly when he shivers.
Rintarou peers at Motoya over his shoulder for a split second and then dips his head back to hide between his arms — outstretched to accommodate the handcuffs hooked through one of the subtly installed O-rings on the headboard.
Motoya hadn’t even noticed the last time he came over.
“Oh, now ya wanna be shy, huh?” Osamu teases, his tone mocking as he moves to the end of the bed. Rintarou’s entire body tenses. His hands ball into fists and his thighs press together to brace for an impact that doesn’t come.
He trembles when Osamu kneels on the bed behind him and rubs one of his asscheeks. A deep, pained moan forces its way out of his throat when Osamu grips his hip and spanks him with an open hand at full power.
“Nothin’ to say, Sunarin?”
“Fuck you,” he spits.
“That so?” Osamu flips the belt off his shoulder and folds it in half one-handed. “At least say hi to our guest, ya brat.”
Gray eyes cut across the room to Motoya, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. Osamu looks hesitant for all of a second and then his eyes settle on the bulge in Motoya’s jeans and he grins.
Motoya's been hard from the second he stepped into the room.
Rintarou doesn’t lift his head to look at Motoya, staying completely still aside from the way the muscles in his thighs spasm from holding up the majority of his body weight.
Motoya takes a few steps towards the bed, pulling at the loose thread in his shirt nervously. “Hi, Rin,” he says, barely above a whisper. Rintarou flinches, rattling the chain of the handcuffs by turning his face into his opposite shoulder. He can’t even look at him.
Osamu’s grip tightens around the belt so hard that the leather squeaks.
"What is your problem today, Sunarin?"
"I don't have- aahh-"
Osamu reels back and brings the belt down against Rintarou's ass so hard that Motoya flinches from the noise. It makes his heart race and the instant adrenaline rush makes his skin feel tingling.
A guttural sound claws its way out of Rintarou's throat and he tries to double in on himself, tugging uselessly at the cuffs and writhing around.
The sheets are wet with his sweat and the precum leaking from his cock where it swings between his legs. Every muscle in his body shakes, but he still doesn't dare look up.
He pants hard, groaning and shifting on the bed like a change of position might help him escape the red-hot pain buzzing through his skin.
"Osamu, please," he rasps, shaking his head where it hangs between his arms. "Please."
"Please what?" Osamu asks, holding his belt at his side while he runs his palm up and down Rintarou's back.
When Rintarou doesn’t answer him, Osamu reaches up in a sudden, swift motion to take a tight fistful of his hair. Rintarou grunts in pain, but he doesn't have the energy to fight the way Osamu forces his head around to look right at Motoya.
Eyeliner pools in dark circles around his eyes and streaks down his cheeks in messy lines. His skin is all patchy from crying and his lips are bitten red from trying to quiet himself. Every breath he takes is strained and heavy, and he doesn't get the option to hide the needy little noises he's making with his head held at such an uncomfortable angle.
"Mmm," he groans, eyes rolling back when Osamu pulls harder to try to get him to respond. "M'toya."
"Are ya gonna stop actin' afool and say hi now?"
His eyes slit open, looking directly at Motoya as a disoriented, sly smile tugs at his lips. "No."
"Rin, don't-" Motoya tries, but Osamu’s already in motion.
"Ya fuckin'– brat–" Osamu hisses, hitting Rintarou on each word — the second much harder than the first.
“M’gonna-” Rintarou’s breathing hitches and ruts his hips against nothing. He fights against Osamu's hold on his hair but that just makes him hold tighter. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes — wild and panicking.
"Do. Not."
Rintarou looks at him from the corners of his eyes and Osamu curses under his breath. He hits him again, and considering Rintarou's warning, Motoya's not entirely sure what Osamu expects.
Rintarou's face opens up as a broken cry falls from his mouth and his eyes go hazy and distant. He's still forced to look in Motoya's direction, but even Motoya knows that Rintarou isn't seeing anything but God right now.
"Ah! Samu, ahh-"
"Don’t ya dare cum right now, Sunarin," Osamu warns, leaning over Rintarou's body to speak right against his ear. "I know ya can be good for me, but I need ya to show Motoya how good you can be too.”
Rintarou's entire body shakes and his cock kicks against absolutely nothing, leaking heavily onto the sheets. He groans lowly and squeezes his eyes shut. "Samu..."
"What?"
"Please," he slurs. "M'close."
"I said no."
Rintarou's brows push together and he clenches his teeth, trying to push his orgasm away by sheer force of will. When Osamu finally lets go of his hair, Rintarou’s head falls limp between his arms, panting and whining as he watches his neglected cock swing between his legs.
He doesn’t spill a drop of cum.
“That’s it,” Osamu murmurs, dropping his belt to spread his hands up Rintarou’s ribs. “Good boy.”
Rintarou hisses through his teeth and lets out a frustrated cry, leaning as far away from Osamu’s hands as the handcuffs will let him. “Don’t touch me.”
Osamu takes his hips and pulls him backward, grinding his own bulge up against Rintarou’s abused ass. “What was that, princess?”
He pushes his hips back against Osamu and whines, disappointed in himself. "No..."
"Are ya done fightin' yet?"
There's a long, tense moment where all they can hear is Rintarou's ragged breathing.
Osamu frowns. “What’s your color, Rintarou?”
Motoya meets Osamu’s eyes as they wait for a response.
“Green.”
He sighs in relief and kisses the space between Rintarou's shoulder blades. "Good boy.”
Osamu undoes the handcuffs with the click of a small lever and Rintarou drops like a puppet with his strings cut. He slumps against the bed in a messy heap of limbs, hiding his face in the pillows.
It’s impossible not to stare at him — all flushed and sweaty and still trembling from his lost orgasm and the pain still seering in his ass.
“And that’s how you punish a big brat like our Sunarin.” Osamu runs his hand along the length of Rintarou’s calf, laughing when he gets kicked for it. “It’s hard to find things that work since he’s into every kind of pain imaginable.”
Motoya nods because he’s not quite sure what else to say, and Osamu gives him a weak smile.
“Hope we didn’t scare ya off.”
Rintarou tips his head out of the pillows to peer at him, watching his reaction closely.
Motoya shakes his head. “I’m not scared.”
It’s jarring for sure.
There’s so much to wrap his head around all at once, and in an environment that leaves him incredibly vulnerable nonetheless. But to that same sentiment, they’ve allowed themselves to be vulnerable with him too.
"I think Rintarou's a little embarrassed that ya had to see him like that," Osamu chuckles, pinching Rintarou's thigh when he glares back at him.
"Don't be."
"I'm such a mess right now, Toya," Rintarou rasps. His voice is raw from all the screaming.
"So? I thought it was-" Motoya flushes and looks down at where he's still playing with the hem of his shirt. "It was really hot."
"Ya think?"
"Yeah.” He offers them a nervous smile as reassurance. “I definitely would have passed out though."
Rintarou huffs a laugh and finally adjusts himself so that he's pillowing his head on his arms instead of hiding. "We can work up to that."
Even with his eyeliner smeared down his cheeks and his hair stuck down to his forehead with sweat, Rintarou still looks pretty. His eyes aren't so hazy anymore, but he still looks all soft and fucked out like he did when Osamu was fingering him the last time.
He spreads long limbs out across the bed, showing off all the darkening bruises on his ass and the older bite marks on his thighs.
Motoya has a hard time believing that he's real at all.
This can't be the same Rintarou he was on the court with yesterday. He’s always so serious and collected, but right now he just looks... soft.
“Hey, Motoya.”
“Yeah?”
"Your shirt still being on is kinda killing my boner," Rintarou says smugly.
"Oh."
Motoya's cheeks burn as he fumbles with his shirt, yanking it over his head and dropping it to the floor. He's still fully hard and his cock presses uncomfortably against his zipper, but he ignores it.
"Can I, uh-"
"You can touch him, sweetheart," Osamu hums, popping the button of his own jeans to give himself a little more breathing room. "I'm not gonna say he doesn't bite, but I don't think he's in the mood to be so feisty anymore."
Rintarou kicks him again, and Osamu grabs his ankle and pins it to the bed with hardly any effort.
"Watch it."
"Die."
Osamu rolls his eyes and lets him go. "Maybe I stand corrected."
"I'll be nice to him," Rintarou says, eyes flickering over to Motoya. "Just not to you."
"You're a fuckin' brat."
"And you love that about me."
"Somethin' like that."
Osamu leaves the bed and rounds on Motoya.
"I'm gonna grab some waters and prep for the rest of the night, 'kay? Be just a few minutes." He takes his chin between his fingers and lays a quick kiss to Motoya's lips. "If Rin starts actin' up, holler for me."
"Shut the fuck up!"
Motoya laughs and nods. "I think I can handle him."
"Oh, I have no doubt, sweetheart."
Osamu leaves them alone and Motoya turns back to Rintarou and his sleazy half-smile. Motoya kneels on the bed, but keeps his hands in his lap, picking at his nails.
"What'd you do, anyway?" Motoya asks when Rintarou looks up at him through his lashes. It's like he's trying to tempt Motoya into jumping him. And if he was braver, he probably would. "He seemed pretty pissed.”
"I was bored.”
Motoya snorts, “Is this what always happens when you’re bored?”
“Depends.” Rintarou shrugs. “He was pissed from work and I poked the bear a little too hard. It worked out.”
“This is it ‘working out’?”
Rintarou props his head up on his hand and runs the other one up Motoya’s thigh. “You don’t seem too bothered.”
“I told you how I felt about it.”
Rintarou watches Motoya pick at the already busted up skin around his thumb nail.
“Samu said that you can touch me."
"I know."
"Then why haven’t you?"
Motoya gives him a nervous smile. "Dunno."
Rintarou rolls his eyes. "You just watched Samu beat me with his belt and you're still more scared of me than you are of him."
"I'm not scared of you!" Motoya argues.
"What's your deal then? Ever since that first night we brought you home, you've been avoiding me and barely looking me in the eyes. And now you don't wanna touch me when I'm all naked and beaten up in front of you?"
"I don't mean to avoid you," Motoya mutters. “I thought you didn’t wanna be around me anymore.”
“Oh yeah, me bugging you nonstop and texting to check up every few days — which you ignored by the way-”
“I didn’t know what to say!”
“You get too in your head, dude.”
“I know.”
“And it’s not good aftercare etiquette to ignore the person you had your dick in.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rintarou trails chipped black nails over Motoya's hand and loosely intertwines their fingers. "You can tell me what’s on your mind," he says in that gentle voice he uses when he's trying to break Motoya out of his own head. “What’s really been bothering you?”
It works surprisingly well.
"I think I’m just a little worried is all.”
“About the belt? He’s not gonna hit you.”
“No,” Motoya laughs. “I really do like this. And I trust you and Osamu. But I guess... I just don’t want to lose everything outside of here too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you're the only person on the team I've gone out of my way to hang out with for the last four years," Motoya explains. "And I like knowing that we’re always gonna room together at away games and that I have someone to go to the cool game shops in Tokyo with. And I like that playing video games with you has become part of my everyday routine. It's all I look forward to sometimes."
"And you don't want to lose that?" Rintarou fills in, and Motoya nods. “Why do you assume that you’re going to lose me because we’re sleeping together?”
"Because you said it'd be hard to just go back to being teammates after all of this,” Motoya says quietly. “But you're not just my teammate. You're genuinely one of my best friends, Suna."
If he really thinks about it, the only person he's closer to than Rintarou is Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi only ever became friends with Motoya because they're cousins. Rintarou is his best friend. One of his only friends in general, but that's a little too sad to admit when the friend in question is lying naked and hard in front of him.
"Well, we're contractually obligated to work well together for the next season at least," Rintarou says, giving Motoya an easy smile to calm his nerves. "So it's in both of our best interests to make this work, and it's a little too late to pretend we haven't fucked."
"So what do we do?"
"Well," Rintarou hums. He glides his palm up Motoya's thigh and grins when he shivers. "I'd kinda like to suck you off and then watch my boyfriend fuck you, but that's up to you."
"Oh," Motoya squeaks, turning his face away like it'll keep Rintarou from seeing how badly he'd like the same thing. Then Rintarou cups him through his jeans and Motoya moans a little too loud, and it's all over from there.
There's really no coming back from this. You can't have a threesome with your best friend and his boyfriend and then pretend things will be normal and unaffected. But if the effect in question is Rintarou mouthing at Motoya's cock through his pants, can he really complain?
"Kiss me, Toya," Rintarou says hotly, scooting back to give Motoya the room to lie down facing him. "We can work the rest out later, okay?"
"Mhm," Motoya hums, already locking his lips with Rintarou's and carding his fingers through his hair.
Whatever reservation Motoya has been holding about seeing them again flickers away in an instant. Rintarou has a way of easing all of his anxieties just like that.
He isn’t in any kind of a rush. He touches Motoya gently and kisses him slowly.
Motoya runs his hand down Rintarou’s waist and stops at the heated skin of his ass. He can feel the welts left by Osamu’s belt.
Rintarou hisses, tugging at Motoya’s hair roughly. “Do you wanna finger me?”
Motoya’s breath catches in his throat and he nods before he can think about much else. “If you want me to.”
Rintarou tells him where to find the lube and throws his leg over Motoya’s thighs.
“Don’t be nervous,” Rintarou says, catching his lips again while Motoya presses feather-light touches to his rim.
“M’not.”
“Are too.” Rintarou bites his bottom lip and grins when Motoya moans. “You’re not gonna hurt me.”
“I know.”
“Okay, then finger me, Toya,” he says needily. “Please?”
"Okay."
Motoya circles his rim for another moment before pushing his finger into the first knuckle. Rintarou sighs softly, mouthing at Motoya’s jaw when he gets too distracted to kiss him back.
Rintarou really does open up easily for him, and he makes these breathy little noises when Motoya starts to fuck one and then two fingers inside of him. It makes Motoya feel hot all over.
“Mm, Toya,” Rintarou groans, arching into him when he starts to push three fingers in. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
Rintarou smiles and pushes Motoya’s hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, baby.”
Motoya shivers and kisses Rintarou hard, trying to distract himself from the butterflies that erupt in his stomach from the pet name alone.
“Shit.”
Rintarou grins against Motoya’s lips when Osamu comes back into the room and tugs his hair roughly to get him to moan.
“Got a little busy while I was gone, ay?” he asks, smoothing a hand up Motoya’s back and leaning down to kiss his shoulder. “Look at you, sweetheart. Takin’ care of Rin so good for me.”
“You took too long,” Rintarou complains, tipping his head back so that Motoya can kiss his neck.
“Had to take a call from the shop,” Osamu explains, dragging a hand up Motoya’s chest to play with one of his nipples. “Clearly you two fared well enough without me.”
Motoya twists his fingers just right and Rintarou’s muscles go taught as he moans.
“Motoya…” he whines, bumping their foreheads together.
“What Rin?”
Rintarou grinds his cock against Motoya’s front and huffs out a frustrated breath. “Can I suck you off now?”
Osamu seems to take interest in that, and he helps to untangle them from one another so that Motoya can stand up and strip while Rintarou kneels on the squishy rug spread out around the bed — clearly placed for practicality rather than decoration.
When Osamu steps up behind Motoya and runs a hand up his chest, he doesn’t stop himself from leaning back against him. Osamu hums happily and kisses the spot right behind his ear.
“This is Sunarin’s specialty,” he hums. “He’ll suck your brains out if ya let him.”
“Ooh,” Motoya breathes.
Rintarou raises slitted eyes to Osamu, cheeks flushed and still stained with his smeared eyeliner. “Don’t let him pull out.”
“Yessir,” Osamu chuckles, pulling Motoya’s hips flush with his and grinding his bulge up into the small of his back. “Just remember to breathe, sweetheart.”
“O-okay.”
Rintarou is as meticulous at sucking dick as he is at volleyball.
He grips Motoya at the base and brings the tip to his lips, kissing him ever so gently before dragging his tongue across the tip and collecting all of his leaking precum. Motoya shivers so Rintarou keeps tonguing his slit until he lets out a high, overstimulated whine.
Their eyes lock as Rintarou swirls his tongue around the head and then dips his head to lick a long strip from the base to the tip, doing it again and again until Motoya’s cock is slick with spit. He moans and drops his head back against Osamu’s shoulder, opening up his neck for Osamu to bite him.
He bites Motoya so hard that his hips buck and Rintarou pinches his thigh. “Stay still.”
“Sorry…”
Osamu huffs a laugh against his neck and takes a tight grip on his hips before biting him again, high enough that Motoya knows he won’t be able to cover up the mark that he leaves.
That doesn’t bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.
Rintarou sucks his cockhead into his mouth and drags the flat of his tongue over the slit. Motoya moans loud. His mouth is so warm and wet, and he’s clearly well versed in sucking dick because he keeps doing things to Motoya that he wouldn’t even begin to be able to explain, let alone replicate.
Motoya has no chance. He's going to cum before Rintarou even gets started.
He reaches back to hold onto Osamu’s hips, too scared to touch Rintarou when he’s got his teeth grazing the underside of his cock.
“Feels good?” Osamu hums and Motoya nods. “Good.”
Rintarou has a divine sense for knowing what’ll push Motoya over the edge and how to back him away from it at the perfect moment. It drives him insane. Osamu doesn’t even try to hide the way it makes him laugh every time Motoya whines because Rintarou pulls off and leaves him weak in the knees.
He pulls back to catch his breath and Motoya’s hips roll, trying to find some kind of friction.
“He’s just teasin’ ya ‘cause he’s mean,” Osamu comments, taking Motoya’s cock in his hand and stroking him just a few times. With how worked up he already is, it nearly pushes him over the edge.
Osamu grips him at the base and drags the leaking tip across Rintarou’s spit-slicked lips while Motoya’s orgasm fades into nothing. He groans in disappointment, but that disappears the second Rintarou’s tongue falls out of his mouth.
“Yeah?” Osamu asks hotly, fingers digging in painfully to Motoya’s waist when Rintarou nods.
"What?" Motoya asks breathlessly.
Osamu kisses the spot behind his ear and speaks in this low, husky voice that makes Motoya feel lightheaded. “Ya wanna fuck Rin’s mouth, sweetheart?”
“W-what?”
“He wants ya to use him."
Osamu lets go of his cock to card his fingers through Rintarou’s hair and he takes a fistful right at the crown of his skull. Rintarou grunts dully and goes limp at the neck instantly, giving Osamu complete control over him.
“It’s just another hole for you to fuck.”
That makes Rintarou groan lowly, and when he meets Motoya’s gaze, his expression is dark and needy.
"Are you sure, Suna?"
"Please," he rasps, gasping when Osamu pulls his hair harder. "Please, Motoya."
Motoya tips his head back against Osamu's shoulder and looks up at him nervously. "Will you teach me?"
"’Course I will, darlin'."
There's a smugness in his voice that's abnormally hot — like he knows exactly how much he’s about to fuck Rintarou up. He hooks his chin over Motoya's shoulder and presses himself flush against his back.
"He likes when you're rough with him. So take his hair like this, ya see? And hold him tight or he'll get squirmy just to test your patience."
Rintarou grins at that comment — like it's amusing that Osamu knows his tactics so well.
Motoya follows instructions and takes Rintarou by the hair. It's soft and thick and damp from his sweat, and the tighter Motoya holds, the further Rintarou's eyes roll back.
It's an adrenaline rush seeing him react so extremely.
"Oh, he likes it when you're mean," Osamu says excitedly.
"Shut the fuck up," Rintarou grits out.
"Don't start back with the mouthin' off, or I'll tie ya up and take Motoya for myself."
Motoya’s cock kicks and Rintarou chews his bottom lip to keep from teasing him.
“You like the idea of that, don’t ya?” Osamu breathes against his ear and Motoya nods. He’s ashamed, but not afraid to tell them that they’re affecting him.
Osamu leads Motoya to take his cock with his free hand and press it to Rintarou's lips. He leans his hips into Motoya's like he's fucking him, but it’s a guiding motion that forces him to push his cock past Rintarou's lips.
"Good boy."
Motoya blushes and dips his head to try to focus on Rintarou instead of the heat of Osamu's breath on his neck. Rintarou keeps his eyes wide open, always looking Motoya right in the face.
"Is that okay?" Motoya asks and Rintarou hums happily, closing his lips fully around him and swirling his tongue around the head.
Rintarou swallows Motoya down like it's nothing, and given the size of Osamu, that shouldn't be much of a surprise. Still, the way he accepts Motoya into his throat so easily is enough to make Motoya weak in the knees.
Osamu puts more pressure against his back, and Motoya feeds his cock into Rintarou's mouth slowly — knuckles white from how hard he's gripping Rintarou's hair.
Rintarou’s nose presses into the trimmed hair right at Motoya’s base and he finally closes his eyes, breathing in and out steadily through his nose and tonguing sloppily at whatever he can reach.
“See? He’s good at that, ain't he?”
Motoya hums in agreement and follows Osamu’s hips as he pulls back. Rintarou’s eyes slide open when all that’s left is the head and starts to lick at his slit again even though it makes Motoya’s knees buckle from the overstimulation.
"Breathe, Motoya," Osamu reminds.
Motoya does what he's told, but before he can exhale, Osamu slams his hips forward, thrusting Motoya fully into Rintarou's mouth all at once. Rintarou chokes and then moans around him, the back of his throat vibrating around the head of Motoya’s cock.
His core erupts with heat and Motoya cries out, letting go of Rintarou's hair to reach behind him and clutch onto the back of Osamu's neck. He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to focus on not cumming despite the all-encompassing heat of Rintarou's mouth.
"I- I’m so… ah-"
Rintarou doesn't pull off but takes the base of his cock in a tight grip that kills his orgasm all at once.
"No..." he whines, nails digging into Osamu's skin.
Rintarou makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a laugh while Osamu keeps rocking his hips in these tiny motions. Rintarou doesn't fight having his mouth fucked even though Motoya's not holding his hair anymore. He stays perfectly still, his mouth lax and welcoming and his tongue busy exploring.
"Sorry," Osamu chuckles, taking Motoya's hand from his neck and redirecting him back to Rintarou's hair. He moans again when Motoya takes a sloppy handful. "Guess I got a little too excited. Didn't think you'd cum from that."
Motoya readjusts — pushing Rintarou's hair out of his face and then taking a new, tighter grip that puts Rintarou exactly where he wants him. Rintarou's eyes widen, and Osamu slowly stops the movement of his hips when he realizes that Motoya has started moving on his own.
"I don't wanna cum yet," Motoya whines.
He fucks into Rintarou's mouth in these uneven, shallow thrusts. He doesn't even push all the way in because that'll push him over the edge for sure.
"Take your time, darlin'. Rin'll sit there all night, he don't mind."
Rintarou reaches around Motoya to pinch Osamu's thigh, and Motoya tugs his hair as hard as he can, forcing him to lean back on his heels.
Rintarou's eyes roll back and he moans so loud Motoya feels the vibrations of it at his core. But he sits perfectly still with his hands in his lap, taking whatever Motoya gives him happily.
"Fuck."
Eventually, Motoya's able to set a slow rhythm that keeps him from getting so close too fast. He fucks Rintarou's mouth with deep thrusts that push him all the way to the back of his throat. Rintarou reacts beautifully every time, whining and gagging when he pushes a little too deep.
"You're doing so good," Osamu praises, dragging his hands down Motoya's waist and cupping his ass roughly. His hips kick and Rintarou chokes. Osamu chuckles. "Sorry."
He takes a step away so that Motoya is fully left on his own.
Rintarou keeps his eyes on Motoya, even when his gaze goes a little hazy and his mouth hangs completely slack, taking whatever Motoya gives him happily.
Osamu comes back a moment later, and a big hand runs up the length of Motoya's chest, thumbing over his nipple while the other spreads his cheeks. Motoya squeaks as a newly slick finger prods his entrance and his hips kick hard enough that Rintarou has to grip Motoya's thighs to steady himself.
"Sorry," he murmurs. "Ahh... Osamu, I- Oh my God."
Osamu pushes a finger inside on Motoya’s next thrust, opening him up with one thick finger. His hips jerk and his muscles lock up from the surprise of the burn. Rintarou gags hard and pats his hip a few times, and Osamu’s quick to put a hand on Motoya’s stomach to pull him back.
Tears and eyeliner pool under Rintarou's eyes, and he heaves in heavy breaths and dips his head, still holding tight to Motoya's thighs. "Give me a sec."
“I’m sorry,” Motoya says again, petting Rintarou’s hair with shaking fingers while he tries to get his bearings. Motoya squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open when Osamu starts to move again, and his legs shake from the burn of the tighter angle he has to fight against. "Ah-"
"It’s okay,” Rintarou says smugly while he pets Motoya’s thighs. "I liked it."
Motoya's cheeks burn and he has half a mind to say something snarky back, but Osamu adds in another finger before he gets the chance.
He groans and leans forward, putting a hand on Rintarou's shoulder to keep himself upright. It's so much more painful than he remembers — probably something to do with the angle but Motoya can’t work through the logistics while his brain is turning to soup.
“I’ve got you.” Rintarou grabs his upper arm and holds his hip tight to keep him steady. He gives Motoya a fond look while he fights to keep himself standing because Osamu won't stop scissoring his fingers. "Breathe, Toya."
"I am."
"You are not."
"Am too," he grunts, taking a harsh breath when Osamu presses against his prostate. "Ooh– fuck."
Rintarou snorts. "There you go."
"I'm fine."
"I know."
Osamu uses a hand at the center of Motoya's chest to pull him back upright, fucking him so deep on those two fingers that he raises up onto his tiptoes to chase the pleasure.
"That's it," Osamu hums, kissing his shoulder. "Good boy"
Motoya's stomach flutters and his cock kicks, nearly brushing Rintarou's lips from how close he is.
"Wanna keep fucking my mouth?" he offers, holding his mouth open, but Motoya shakes his head.
"Can't move," he grits out.
Osamu pulls his fingers out entirely and Motoya relaxes all at once, legs jelly under him while his hole clenches onto nothing, feeling odd and empty all at once.
Rintarou scoots closer to him, closing the distance between himself and Osamu into essentially nothing. Osamu pops the cap of the lube and Rintarou starts to mouth at his cock again, and Motoya's mind starts to get all fuzzy.
It seems like there's a limit programmed into his brain where it just stops functioning when there are too many hands and mouths on him at one time. It's like his subconscious is giving him the go-ahead to stop trying to control what's happening because Rintarou and Osamu clearly have things under control.
Three fingers press against his rim and Motoya tenses all over from the burn. He squeezes his eyes shut and Rintarou pets his thighs soothingly, whispering nice things that Motoya can hardly hear over Osamu's heavy breathing in his ear.
"Hurts," he grits out.
"You're doin' so good for me," Osamu murmurs. "Just give me another minute."
He's not sure when the pain starts to dissolve into pleasure, but it's sometime after Rintarou starts mouthing at his balls. His cock presses against Rintarou's cheek and the vulgarity of that is enough to distract Motoya until Osamu finds his prostate again.
Rintarou hums happily when Motoya starts to moan again and moves back to keep sucking his dick. "So pretty," he hums, before taking him all at once and sending Motoya into a fit of mild hysterics.
"Ooh-" he breathes, unintentionally fighting Osamu's hold on him. "My God. Oh fuck."
"Shh," Osamu hums, tightening the hold across his chest. "That's it, sweet thing. Feels good, doesn't it?"
Motoya moans in response, unable to decide if he wants to fuck himself into Rintarou's mouth or onto Osamu's fingers.
"You gonna fuck him or what?" Rintarou asks harshly, working Motoya with his hand while he catches his breath.
"Oh, please," Motoya begs.
"He said please, Samu," Rintarou says hotly. "You can't leave him hanging."
"Oh, I won't." Osamu's voice is all gravly and deep and it makes Motoya feel like he's inside of his brain. It's so hot.
He pulls out and Rintarou deep throats him before Motoya can dare complain about the emptiness. It works well enough because Motoya grabs a fistful of his hair and fucks into his mouth without thinking about it.
Rintarou's eyes roll back and he moans around him again. He grips onto Motoya's thighs, and his nails bite into his skin. He repeats the motion again and again until Osamu's back, grabbing his hips hard and pulling him away from Rintarou.
"Ya ready?"
"Yeah..."
"What was that?"
"Yes- ah! Oh my God."
Osamu presses inside slowly, and Motoya starts to feel full in an instant. He's so big. Bigger than his fingers can prepare Motoya for. It's a horrifying mix of intense pain and pleasure that makes him weak in the knees.
"Yes, yes," he chants, eyes rolling back the further Osamu presses in. "Osamu..."
"I've gotcha," he rasps, sinking his teeth into Motoya's neck while his cock opens him up and sinks so deep inside of him that Motoya swears he can taste him.
His legs shake and Rintarou pets them idly, kissing his thighs and hips and cock. He stares at Motoya with blown pupils and sweet words of praise on his tongue for both of them.
Osamu crosses his arm over Motoya's chest and grips his hip with his other hand, pulling him back on his cock until he bottoms out. Motoya holds onto him tight, trying not to let himself dissolve into the pleasure entirely.
"Mm," Motoya gasps, eyes rolling back.
"Oh, fuck," Osamu breathes, pulling out and fucking back into him at the same slow and steady pace. He noses against the back of Motoya's neck and Motoya can feel the restraint he's having to use to keep from fucking Motoya as hard as he must want.
"Are you good?" Rintarou asks, and Motoya can't do anything other than moan in response. "Are you gonna die if I suck you off?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Rintarou takes him down in the same slow, excruciating pace that Osamu fucks him with and Motoya's nails dig into Osamu's forearm.
"Ohh-"
His brain shuts off again and Motoya struggles to not let his legs give out entirely. It's too many hands again, but so much worse this time. This time he's being entirely consumed. With Rintarou swallowing him down and Osamu biting him and filling him up, he stops being able to think about much of anything other than the swelling pleasure at his core.
It's a miracle he hasn't cum yet.
Motoya moans loudly and Osamu shoves two fingers into his open mouth. It surprises him enough to bring him halfway back, and he sucks on Osamu's fingers greedily.
"Are ya close?"
Motoya nods, choking on his fingers when he suddenly picks up the pace. He slams against Motoya's prostate over and over again while Rintarou hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard.
Osamu pulls his fingers out to grab Motoya's hair, tilting his head to the side to bite his neck. That's what does it for him. The pain explodes at his core right along with everything else. The tight heat of Rintarou's mouth and the thick pressure of Osamu's cock burying itself inside of him is more than enough to do him in.
Motoya slips over the edge all at once, white hot pleasure exploding at his core and burning all the way to the tips of his toes where they curl against the plush rug.
He folds in on himself, fighting their holds on him involuntarily. He dips his head and bites down on the meat of Osamu's bicep to keep himself from screaming.
"Mother fucker-" Osamu hisses into his ear, hips stuttering as he rams inside.
Rintarou moans around him, swallowing down every drop of cum greedily and then sucking him even harder like he's trying to make sure Motoya's got nothing left to give.
"Let up," Osamu grits out, patting his shoulder and letting out a pained noise when Motoya’s jaw unlocks and leaves a big bruising bite mark in its wake.
Motoya drops his head back against Osamu’s chest, heaving in heavy breaths and shaking like a leaf. His legs feel numb and the muscles in his thighs tremble under Rintarou's fingers as he pulls off Motoya's softening cock. If Osamu let up his hold, Motoya would collapse without a doubt.
Motoya groans when Osamu pulls out, leaving him with that emptiness that he doesn't know how to get used to when it felt so good to be full.
"I’ve gotcha."
Osamu is so gentle as he lifts Motoya up and lays him down on the bed, leaning over him to kiss him softly. Motoya hums happily, spreading a hand up Osamu's back.
"You okay?"
Motoya nods. The ache at the base of his spine makes him feel perfectly spent.
"God, yeah."
Osamu huffs a laugh and kisses him again. "Ya did so good, sweetheart."
Motoya blushes more from that than he did from everything else that just happened.
Rintarou stumbles to his feet on his own, eyes flickering between them while he picks at his nail polish. Motoya frowns when he doesn't make any move to get closer.
"Rin," he murmurs. "Come here."
Osamu’s brows furrow when he catches onto Rintarou’s odd demeanor as well. He sits back to make room on the bed for him and holds out a hand. "Yeah c'mere, my love."
Rintarou hesitantly takes Osamu's hand and lets himself get pulled into the space between them, carefully settling on his knees to keep from putting any pressure on the welts.
"What's your color, Rintarou?" Osamu asks, tucking his hair behind his ear.
"Green,” he says quickly, but he still struggles to meet Osamu's eyes. “I'm good."
Osamu cups his cheek and kisses Rintarou deeply. "I'm gonna take care of you too, don't ya worry."
Whatever tension he was holding starts to dissolve with that small bit of reassurance.
Rintarou nods and wraps an arm around Osamu's shoulders to pull him in further. "I know you will."
They kiss slowly and with a surprising amount of tenderness. Their touches are sweet and placed with a well-rounded knowledge of each other's bodies.
It's a complete switch from the scene that Motoya walked in on.
Now, with Osamu's arms around him, Rintarou relaxes entirely.
"You prepped enough?" Osamu asks and Rintarou nods. "Mm, good boys."
Motoya's stomach flutters and Rintarou gives him a soft smile while Osamu kisses down his neck. He looks abnormally content, and he's like puddy in Osamu’s hands.
While Osamu searches for the lube he lost in the blankets, Rintarou lays against Motoya’s chest and pets his hair. Motoya spreads his hands up the warmed skin of Rintarou’s back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks and Rintarou tilts his head.
“Why?”
Motoya hesitantly reaches up to touch his face, dragging the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of Rintarou’s cheek. “I can see when you’re in your own head too, you know?”
Rintarou gives him an easy smile and kisses the pad of Motoya’s thumb. “I’m okay.”
“This is a long scene for Sunarin,” Osamu explains, kissing Rintarou’s temple. “We were goin’ for quite a while before you got here, and his brain’s a little mushy from not cummin’ yet, I think.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
“I mean, ya don’t have to cum tonight,” Osamu says, shrugging. He pulls off the condom and wraps a hand around himself. “I can get Motoya hard again and fuck him instead.”
Motoya would be lying if he said he didn’t feel that comment right in his dick, but even hotter than that is the way Rintarou looks at Osamu like he’s going to blow him up with his mind alone.
“Osamu.”
“What, darlin’?” he asks with a shit-eating grin. He kneels behind Rintarou and pats his hip. “Lie over Motoya for me.”
Rintarou slings his leg over Motoya’s hips to straddle him fully and grinds his cock against Motoya's stomach.
“You two are so pretty like this,” Osamu groans, groping Rintarou’s ass roughly.
“Samu, that hurts,” Rintarou gasps, eyes falling shut as he pushes his ass back against Osamu’s hands despite the pain.
“I know, sweet thing,” Osamu says, reeling back and spanking him at barely half power. Still, Rintarou yelps and hides his face in the crook of Motoya’s neck, shaking all over.
“I’m not gonna make it.”
“Can’t be that close yet.”
“Yes, I can.” Rintarou looks at Osamu over his shoulder. He's flushed all the way down his chest and his lashes clump together from the newest tears “Just- don’t stop.”
Osamu grins and smooths a hand up his spine, making Rintarou arch into his touch. “My good boy.”
Rintarou lets out a needy moan, and it stretches out into something long and entirely guttural as Osamu starts to push inside.
“Can I kiss you?” Motoya whispers.
Rintarou grips the pillows behind Motoya’s head and nods frantically. “Please, please- ahh, fuck.”
Motoya cups his face and kisses him hard, swallowing down breathy moans when Osamu bottoms out with a low groan of his own. He doesn’t mind the sloppy way Rintarou kisses him back or how he has to pull back frequently to catch his breath or just to feel the slide of Osamu’s cock pounding inside of him.
He looks pretty with his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted while he moans. He can’t seem to decide what to do with his hands — going between gripping the sheets and Motoya’s hair.
He cracks his eyes open and his entire face opens up, brows pushing together as sweet moans pour from his mouth.
“Oh- dammit Toya,” Rintarou grunts, throwing his head back when Osamu picks up the pace. “Stop looking at me like that.”
Motoya gapes at him, confused. “Like what?”
“Like that!” Rintarou leans on one arm to use his free hand to cover Motoya’s eyes.
Motoya tugs on Rintarou’s wrist and laces their fingers together, letting Rintarou pin his hand to the bed if it means getting to watch him fall apart. He slips his other hand between them, taking Rintarou’s cock and starting to work him in time with Osamu’s thrusts.
“Oh, fuck.” Rintarou gasps, knocking their foreheads together while tears drip down his cheeks. “I’m so close.”
“That’s it, my love,” Osamu praises. “My good boy. Cum for me.”
It makes Motoya feel so warm inside when Rintarou kisses him through it, squeezing his hand so hard it hurts and whining into his mouth while covering his stomach in a warm layer of cum.
Osamu fucks him through it and then picks up his pace when Rintarou starts letting out these high, choked-out noises that make it sound like he’s in pain. Motoya runs his hands over Rintarou’s body, trying to soothe him as his brows push together and he tenses up, muscles spasming as he’s pushed into overstimulation.
“You’re not done yet,” Osamu rasps, reaching between them to start working Rintarou’s half-soft cock himself. “Give me one more.”
“S’too much,” Rintarou chokes out, trying to bat Osamu’s hand away weakly.
He grins wickedly when he realizes that Motoya’s almost hard too, circling his fist around them both and working them roughly. “Ya feel that? You got Toya all hard again, Rintarou.”
Rintarou groans and lets his head fall against Motoya's chest. “I can’t.”
“You will too.”
“Rin.” Motoya grabs his face and kisses him hard, trying to distract him from the overwhelming pleasure. “You can do it.”
He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut but Motoya feels his cock kick next to his.
“You’re so close,” he whispers, kissing Rintarou’s jaw. “I’m close.”
“Yeah?”
Motoya feels the spring coiling up in his stomach again, nowhere near as intense as the last time, but noticeable enough. It makes his body tense up and he has to force himself to breathe. It’s easier to let himself feel good when he’s trying to get Rintarou to do the same thing.
Motoya kisses down Rintarou’s neck, leaving a mess of hickeys and bite marks wherever he can reach. He licks up his sweaty skin and scratches down his back when he starts to feel himself getting closer. Rintarou arches into the pain and dips his head to bite Motoya's back.
“Fuck, Rin,” he groans, sucking a dark bruise into the crook of his neck.
There’s a sharp crack and Rintarou collapses against Motoya's chest. He struggles to catch his breath after Osamu spanks him again, gasping and shaking and tugging at Motoya’s hair weakly.
“Again…” he begs, and Osamu gets this feral smile that makes Motoya spiral.
He spanks Rintarou again and again, watching him fall apart and then reaching back between them to start working their cocks again.
“Cum with me?” Rintarou murmurs into the crook of Motoya’s neck, and Motoya nods.
“Fuck,” Osamu grunts, fucking Rintarou even harder. Rintarou throws his head back and Motoya catches his teeth on his neck, biting him hard enough to send Rintarou over the edge again. “God, Rin-”
They cum together in a mess of moaning and teeth on each other's necks and cum spread across Motoya’s stomach. Osamu cums too, grunting as he fills Rintarou up.
“Good boys,” he praises, kissing Rintarou's spine when he pulls out of him. “You did so good for me.”
They clean up together slowly. Osamu gets rags and wipes them both down and then they all take turns in the cold shower, washing the sweat out of their hair and climbing into one another’s clothes for the remainder of their night.
It’s not nearly as late as it was when they brought Motoya home the first time, so he gets a little lost in what exactly he’s supposed to be doing. He dresses slowly, chatting with Rintarou about an upcoming video game release while Osamu digs around in the kitchen.
“Can we just get takeout?” Osamu grumbles, rubbing his stomach and pouting at them. “We got nothin’ to eat here.”
“What do you wanna eat?” Rintarou asks, and it takes a long beat of awkward silence for Motoya to realize he’s the one being spoken to.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you’re staying for dinner aren’t you?”
“I- Yeah,” he agrees slowly. “Sure.”
It becomes a routine before he knows it.
They make a group chat for the three of them where they set dates and times for them to fuck Motoya’s brains out. There are little aftercare check-ins from Osamu here and there too, but overall things stay relatively casual.
Motoya and Rintarou still play video games together most nights and Osamu keeps coming to team events as the season's start nears closer.
Their meetups are far more helpful for Motoya than he cares to admit. It gives him something to look forward to, and something other than his pre-season anxiety to focus on. It’s hard to focus on much of anything when they turn his brain to mush at least once a week.
Over the next month or so, Motoya learns about all of their favorite things.
Rintarou has a love-hate relationship with edging because of his lack of patience, and he gets all misty-eyed anytime he’s restrained.
Osamu calls himself a ‘pleasure dom’ and says he’ll do anything they want, but Rintarou calls him a sadist with a brat taming kink and encourages Motoya to disobey him because it turns him on.
He’s yet to get the courage for that.
They teach him about the ‘color’ question Osamu’s always asking Rintarou during scenes.
Osamu makes Rintarou explain it while he’s tied spread eagle to the bed with Motoya fucking him and Osamu pressing a vibrator against his balls. By the time he gets to what red means, he’s crying and begging for Osamu to let him cum.
Motoya licks him clean and screams green when Osamu fucks him through a third orgasm half an hour later.
“I think Samu got you a little too hard,” Rintarou chuckles. He dabs some fancy green concealer onto Motoya’s neck to hide all of his newest bite marks and bruises before they head to practice.
“I think this one was Osamu,” Motoya corrects, pointing at one twice the size on the other side of his neck. “You did that one.”
“Damn,” Rintarou hums, observing his handiwork. “Does it hurt?”
He shoves his thumb into it and Motoya swats him away. “Yes!”
“Good.”
“You suck.”
Rintarou tips his head back to show all of his own bitemarks. “How many of these did you give me?”
Motoya flushes. “All of them.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Are we fightin’ over hickeys again?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Osamu comes out of the bathroom dressed for work and kneels on the bed next to them while Rintarou finishes up on Motoya’s concealer.
“I’m headin’ out,” Osamu says, forcefully grabbing Rintarou’s head to kiss his temple.
Rintarou grimaces and swats at him. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”
Osamu leans in and gives Motoya a sweet kiss. “I’ve got next Tuesday off if ya wanna come over again.”
“Sounds good.” Motoya smiles and kisses him one more time. “Have a good day at work.”
“Thanks, sweetheart." He kisses the top of Rintarou’s head and goes to the dresser for his keys and wallet. “I’ll see ya tonight, darlin’.”
“Love you,” Rintarou says, already back to focusing on patting in the last of the concealer.
“I love ya too! Bye, Motoya!”
“Bye!”
Later in the locker room, Rintarou gets the usual chiding about his bite marks and the scratches Motoya left down his back, but Osamu takes the fall for all of them as always.
Motoya is unfortunate enough to have to look at those marks all through practice and catch glimpses of the teeth marks he left on Rintarou’s thighs when his shorts ride up.
Things like that are why he’s spent the last month perfecting the art of thinking about horrible things to stop from getting a boner during practice. It works for the most part, but he can't stop willing Tuesday to get here faster anyway.