Thread by @murcielagoAO3

under the table! 👀😳

#nsfw #miyacest

atsumu likes to see how flustered he can get osamu in public, working down his brother's zipper and pulling out his cock right there under the table at the MSBY franchise banquet with ten other people seated with them.

https://twitter.com/miyacestzine/status/1567269546439868416

atsumu's skill with his hands is unparalleled. he sips his wine and works osamu's dick like the gearshift in a hot sportscar, knowing just how to tease him up to the edge and pump the breaks before he can finish.

trouble is, osamu's a contrary /jackass/.

despite atsumu's persistent edging, osamu shows /no/ reaction whatsoever, carrying on a conversation about the season's stats with some stockholder sitting on his other side, cutting his steak with knife and fork like nothing untoward is even happening

osamu /knows/ what atsumu's after and plain refuses to give it to him, outright /denies/ him any satisfaction whatsoever, not a single flicker of acknowledgement that his dick is rock hard and fit to burst, trembling in atsumu's sinfully coaxing hand.

his endurance would be impressive if atsumu wasn't so goddamn frustrated.

all he wants is for osamu to casually turn to him and /beg/ with his deep, dark, desperate eyes to have mercy and save him from the humiliation of ejaculating all over the carpet at a formal banquet.

instead, what he gets is osamu dabbing his mouth with his napkin and covering his lap under the table just in time to catch the spurts of his cum while he laughs--loudly and open-mouthed--at some joke the stockholder has made like it's the funniest fucking thing he ever heard.

that /fucking/ asshole!!

incensed, atsumu immediately drops osamu's dick like it's one of leo d1caprio's girlfriends on their 25th birthday and signals a waiter for another glass of merlot.

the dinner plates are cleared and the dessert course is brought out, dainty slices of cheesecake topped with berries and a decadent chocolate drizzle. atsumu takes an excessively large bite--and nearly /chokes/ when he feels osamu's hand rubbing his groin under the table.

"don't inhale it," osamu teases, shooting him an insufferable smirk. he unzips atsumu's fly and gropes his dick out through the hole in his boxers. "not a race to see who finishes first."

atsumu laughs like he's supposed to, but there's some tension in it, blood rushing south.

osamu's firm hand soon has him fully hard and straining in his grip, fighting to focus and keep his breathing even and his expression calm. atsumu grips the edge of the table, feeling heat in the tips of his ears and god he /hates/ osamu with every single bit of their shared DNA.

"what's the matter?" osamu provokes him. "yer not eatin'. too full?"

"/no/," atsumu spits even though he knows he's being baited. he picks up his dessert fork and cuts a small piece, swirling it in the chocolate sauce before lifting it to his mouth.

osamu suddenly twists the grip of his fingers around atsumu's sensitive cockhead and atsumu jerks--the cake falls off his fork onto the tablecloth and he lets out the breathiest, most embarrassing gasp, "ahhh~!"

the other men at the table chuckle at his little mishap like indulgent uncles, teasing him playfully.

"careful there," osamu chuckles with them.

atsumu feels his face overheating, /mortified/ by the entire situation and wishing he could turn invisible on the spot.

but there's nowhere to escape when osamu's rubbing his dick like /that/ and urging on a climax he's no longer confident about holding back or disguising well enough not to be thorougly and publicly /humiliated/.

which, clearly, is what /osamu/ wants.

"the rest of yer dessert looks so tasty, tsumu. gonna finish it?" osamu goads him again, smirking with that twinkle in his eye.

still flushed, atsumu scowls at his twin and with monumental effort atsumu takes a heaping bite of cheesecake and raspberry and shoves it in his mouth.

he tries to make a show of chewing and swallowing the decadent dessert but osamu's hand doubles the pace under the table and works his dick like a goddamn snake charmer. before atsumu can realize what's happening he's already hurtling towards his orgasm and sucks in a breath--

he grabs his napkin and right when he spills his load he pretends to sneeze, doubling over and bark-screaming into the wad of scented linen, again and again, shoulders shaking and dick twitching through each massive spurt like he hasn't cum in a month instead of the mere 8 hours

since they fucked that morning.

finally his dick subsides, as well it should after painting the plush carpet like a goddamn jacks0n p0llack.

atsumu lifts his head from his napkin, face a mess of tears and skin blotched red.

"bless you!" everyone at the table choruses.

"thanks," atsumu nods all around, biting his lip in mortification.

"aight there, tsumu?" osamu pats atsumu's limp cock under the table and then pats him heartily on the back, rubbing between his shoulder blades in a shockingly believable display of concern. "didja catch a cold?"

atsumu flashes his meanest scowl, glaring. "nah, just an annoying /tickle/."

osamu busts up laughing, a raucous, open-mouthed sound, eyes squinting shut. atsumu grinds his teeth, wishing he could be more offended but god, osamu looks so good when he really, truly /laughs/.

atsumu sighs, suddenly not caring to stay at some stuffy banquet any longer. he nudges osamu with his knee.

"actually, might be a cold after all," he says.

osamu cocks his head, a knowing smile tugging on one side of his mouth. he gently touches his wrist to atsumu's forehead,

which somehow heats atsumu up twice as fast as anything they did under the table.

osamu squeezes his shoulder and reaches for the jacket on the back of his chair. "let's getcha home then."

atsumu nods, discreetly tucking his dick away and fastening his pants before standing up.

they say their farewells and leave the fancy banquet hall. on the elevator ride down to the ground floor, osamu tucks his hand in atsumu's back pocket and /squeezes/.

"happen to know a damn good cold remedy," he offers.

atsumu snorts. "really? an' what's that?"

osamu leers. the elevator dings and as the doors open, he withdraws his hand from atsumu's pocket and leans in to whisper, "guess ya'll find out soon enough."

😘🍰

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