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The eyes.
Osamu never chose the eyes once in his life when asked what part of the body he looks at first upon meeting someone.
The ass, the chest, the hands even… He’s pretty sure he answered “their smile” once, when the person asking wasn’t close enough for him to unapologetically say he’s into asses.
Really, the eyes would have been the last answer he’d have thought of. At least until Suna got under his skin.
But since then, and right now especially, the eyes are definitely what Osamu finds the most attractive, mesmerizing and beautiful in a person. In Suna Rintarou precisely.
Suna who is looking at him through half-lidded eyes and loose bangs that fall beautifully around his face, moving at the same tantalizing pace as his body does.
Those vivid olive eyes are a beacon. They are now, and they were yesterday.
They’re Osamu’s world and he never wants to look away.
He hasn't since the moment Suna's hand slipped through his fingers and he said: "that might be the vodka speaking but holy shit that's my song," the night before.
Then Suna stepped away from him — clearly inhibited but not as much as he pretended — to join the dancefloor of the popular bar they went to to pass one of their rare nights reunited together since Osamu started his program at a famous culinary school in Osaka and Suna made it as EJP’s newest recruit.
Back then, Osamu couldn't take his eyes away from Suna's, not with how the usually quiet and unbothered young man looked beautiful and debauched, dancing like the personification of sin itself.
Not that Osamu minds a little sin. He's been dating another man for two years now, having sex with him for almost as long. And it's not counting on all the stupid shit Atsumu made him do in a grand total of twenty years of life.
So Osamu stayed there, a pint of beer he forgot to drink in his hand as Suna danced through the entire song, undulating, swirling around and rolling his hips to the beat Osamu has since forgotten. He only remembers the way Suna dropped on the floor at some point, pumping his hips in a way Osamu had no idea Suna could. Not in public, that is. Because Osamu is perfectly aware of the many ways his bendy boyfriend can twist his hips when they’re in private.
And Osamu remembers the glimpse in his eyes. He remembers the brightness of green pupils exacerbated by the dark khôl and eyeliner wings circling them. He remembers the intensity of Suna’s gaze when he looked at Osamu over his shoulder, slender waist swaying back and forth to the song playing above their heads.
He remembers every detail of it and couldn’t forget if he wanted to with the way Suna stares at him right now. There’s no more makeup to enhance his gaze but it’s still a thousand times more searing.
They’re no longer in a bar, no longer on a dancefloor on a Saturday evening. It’s Sunday and they’re in the most secluded area of the library Osamu usually goes to when he needs to study for an upcoming exam.
There aren’t many exams at this time of the year though. There aren’t many things happening, period. Suna is almost off season, hence the more frequent periods of free time that allows him to spend a weekend in Osaka with Osamu. Students aren’t rushing to worm their way into books they won’t care about anymore the second they’re done with their assignment.
They’ve barely met three persons on their way here earlier, including the library assistant who holds the fort on Sundays and whom Osamu knows from campus activities — and parties. A library assistant Osamu knows enough to be aware he doesn’t care about his shift and took it because it allows him to recover from nasty hangovers while he hides behind the front desk. Far away from the narrow alleys at the back of the third and last floor Suna and Osamu are currently hiding in.
They weren’t even supposed to hide in there. It was supposed to be a very short stop so Osamu could drop a few books before heading out to the arcade to nurse their own mild hangover.
It wasn’t supposed to go down. Osamu has been pretty tamed, they’ve both been pretty tamed since Suna arrived on Friday evening. Apart from when Suna almost made love to the fucking floor of a filthy bar because of one too many shots of vodka, of course.
They had sex on Friday night, spent half the night snuggling afterward. A peaceful Saturday playing video games and watching Suna's last game together. A fun night out that ended with them snoring with open mouths half undressed on top of Osamu’s futon…
Sunday was supposed to go smoothly as well. Osamu should have been allowed to keep fixating on Suna’s beautiful eyes while daydreaming in peace. But Osamu should have taken the hints.
Hints like the way Suna actually almost had sex with the floor and only stopped because Osamu was too reluctant to join in front of a crowd, to begin with. Or like the way Suna woke him up this morning grinding against Osamu’s ass before claiming a heated kiss (that made them both jerk away from the awful post-drinking morning breath and cut the horny track mercilessly). Or hints like the way Suna suggested they should cancel the library and the arcade trip so they could Netflix and chill, knowing Osamu doesn’t have access to a Netflix account — or any good WiFi in his student studio flat.
Seriously, Osamu should have paid attention to details instead of drowning in Suna’s pretty eyes. He would both have had sex by then and avoided a very compromising situation. Instead he’s stuck in said situation and can’t even find the strength to complain about it. Wouldn’t dream of it, despite the alarm at the back of his skull — drowned in the blurry fuzzy cloud left by yesterday’s festive shenanigans — telling Osamu it’s not a clever idea.
But Osamu never claimed to be the clever twin. He’s not even sure there’s a clever Miya twin to begin with. Suna is the clever one of the group. And if Suna initiated all this, maybe they’re not going to be that much in trouble. Nevermind the fact that Suna got most of the twins’ most terrible ideas on tape over years, which he either enabled or at least didn’t try to stop.
But Suna always loved to play with fire, despite the deceptive reserved demeanor.
Yeah. Fuck, Osamu is fucked.
Although in a literal way, Osamu is all but fucked. He’s actually on the opposite end of the fucking spectrum and Suna is meeting him halfway from the other end.
That’s the only reason why Osamu isn’t questioning further the potential trouble they could get themselves in, in favor of drowning in Suna’s beautiful eyes instead. It’s a little too late to think about it, anyway, now that his pants are pooling around his thighs and he’s buried deep inside Suna.
Suna definitely knows how to roll and twist his hips in private. Or in the relative privacy of a secluded and dark forgotten library alley. He does it like he did yesterday while dancing, except now, he has a leg thrown over Osamu’s left hip, foot resting on one of the lower shelves for support.
His pants aren’t pooling around his ankles for the sole reason that Suna is wearing a loose pair of basketball shorts currently tugged high and away to grant access to Osamu.
Another hint maybe? The fact that the sly and horny idiot followed Osamu outside going commando? Osamu is too head over heels for his boyfriend to be done with him, but he did give him a pointed look when Suna slowly pulled the shorts up his thigh to reveal — with a fake sheepish grin, on top of it — his greatest mischief.
A pointed look Osamu couldn’t hold for long because Suna then slipped a generous sample of lube and two condoms in Osamu’s hand, both shamelessly pulled out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt.
Osamu never fingered someone so fast in his life — not that his fingering experience exceeds the realms he explored with Suna since puberty — but it was impossible not to snap when Suna pushed him up against the shelves covering an obscure historical period of Europe. Plus, despite the many things they tried together, not many involved the risk of getting caught.
Suna hissed and cursed under his breath a great deal. Enough to let Osamu know they weren’t thorough enough with preparations. But he also made all these sorts of throaty, bitten back moans he does when he’s completely fucked out. Enough to let Osamu know he’d get a dangerous glare if he dared asking if Suna wanted to stop.
He still did, out of concern.
Suna’s answer was to roughly bring them closer to each other by circling Osamu’s nape with both arms so he could lower himself down Osamu’s cock more easily.
Osamu hasn’t been able to compute much since then. Not that anyone asked him to. So he’s more than happy to just stand there and take it, despite being on the giving end.
Suna is panting quietly into his mouth, nibbling on Osamu’s lips when he starts getting just a decibel too loud and Osamu shamelessly indulges, drinking those little sounds that drive him nuts when Suna can let them out freely in bed. Just imagining them, feeling them vibrating on the tip of his tongue rather than hearing them makes his balls tighten and his cock twitch every so often.
Suna is relentless, forehead pressed against Osamu’s, a small bead of sweat pearling above his upper lip as he grinds against Osamu more frantically by the second. Osamu stops staring into his eyes, entranced by the glistening droplet that threatens to fall off Suna’s lips.
“Fuck that,” Suna suddenly curses against Osamu’s lips and there’s an abrupt shift.
Osamu isn’t ready, hands still secure on Suna’s hips when he feels Suna’s whole body stretch upward. The deep grind stops as he reaches for a shelf high above Osamu’s head for leverage. Osamu is about to ask what’s happening, head whipping up but he stops when Suna’s open mouth drags over his cheek and temple hotly, lips curling in a devilish smirk Osamu knows all too well.
Too bad he has nothing to brace himself with but Suna’s hips and his grip turns a little too tight. Suna gasps from it but it’s nothing compared to Osamu’s loud yelp. Suna immediately slaps his free hand over Osamu’s mouth, eyes going wide and accusatory as if it was Osamu’s fault if Suna just dropped down and impaled himself on his dick.
Osamu shuts his eyes tightly, breaking eye contact for the first time since Suna leaned into him to whisper “move faster or someone’s gonna get caught with their hands down my shorts without even getting their dick wet and I’m not about that kind of tragedy” into his ear.
He’s not going to last much longer. Not with the pace Suna is setting, using the shelves to propel himself and pump his hips fast and hard. Osamu’s shoulders dig into the row of books behind him, both feet braced on the floor while Suna relentlessly fucks himself onto Osamu’s cock.
They’re not exactly quiet anymore. Suna chokes a few times on new gasps and moans but that’s not what Osamu is concerned about. The slapping sounds, however… At least Suna’s shorts dull most of those but not all of them. And they certainly don’t dull the creaking of the shelves.
“Rin, slow down,” Osamu mutters through gritted teeth, thumbs digging into his boyfriend’s V-line helplessly as he tries to prevent him from bouncing on his dick.
He cracks an eye open and his jaw immediately drops. Suna seems to be looking down on him fiercely with the mere centimeters he gained on Osamu, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes feverish half hidden behind his messy bangs.
“‘kay, don’t slow down, don’t, Rin, just… don’t— shit,” Osamu sputters, hands helping Suna with the motion instead of working against him now.
He knows Suna is too far gone because that alone should have earned Osamu the smuggest grin possible. Instead Suna throws his head back, lips parting as his thigh clamp tighter around Osamu’s waist.
It almost makes him lose his balance but he’s trapped between Suna’s arms and Suna is widening his stance so Osamu can do the same. It’s perfect for him to keep his footing but Osamu couldn’t care less about the logistics when the position just gave him the best angle possible.
Suna’s hips stutter, a moan ripped off his red and glistening lips and Osamu knows he just hit the perfect spot. Suna looks perfect. So beautiful… Osamu leans into him to latch onto his bared throat, overpowered by a surge of possessiveness all of a sudden.
Suna is a little on the crazy side, but he only is for him, with Osamu. He only plays with fire like that with a few people, and Osamu is always a part of the equation and that fact makes his head spin as much as the way Suna undulates against him.
He chases his release mindlessly, driven by Suna’s pants and incoherent, breathless whispers. So mindlessly Osamu only frowns and tries to wriggle away when Suna’s hand antagonizes him, sneaking in between their bodies.
It disappears as soon as it came so Osamu doesn’t pay any mind to it, thrusting deeper again.
Like the hints before, though, Osamu should have paid attention to details. It’s too late for him when Suna throws him back into the shelves, pushing down on his shoulder with a hand to make sure Osamu stays pressed there, knees bending slightly, his other hand sneaking behind Osamu’s back and slipping between his asscheeks.
The touch is cold, slippery and shallow but blows Osamu’s mind nonetheless. Suna barely moves anymore, trapping Osamu between his thighs as he almost rides him, grinding down in Osamu’s lap with powerful rolls of the hips.
Those hips will definitely be the end of Osamu, in public, in private, in a library… It doesn’t matter. Osamu’s eyes roll back, mouth parting in a silent plea as his face twists in pleasure. Suna’s finger digs deeper. He can’t go far with this angle but he manages to press the tip of a second finger in by the time Osamu can’t remember anything but the color of Suna’s eyes.
“You’re gonna come?” Suna asks, on the edge of teasing.
“Rin, I’m gonna…”
“That’s way too coherent,” Suna then judges, and suddenly slams his hips forward, pinning Osamu against the shelves loudly.
Not that Osamu really hears it because it coincides with Suna’s fingers ramming into his prostate and that coupled with the mild spike of pain coursing through his shoulders and the back of his head drives Osamu over the edge, filling his ears with white noise and vision with black dots.
The air has been punched out of his lungs with the slight shock but Suna probably thinks that’s less important than keeping him quiet because he’s suddenly licking into his mouth like a starved man and Osamu’s babbling dies on his lips while he rides one of the best orgasms of his life.
“Fuck, Rin,” Osamu eventually breathes out when Suna parts away, a hand cupping Osamu’s jaw, the other still gripping his ass.
“If you don’t mind,” Suna answers, pushing himself up to stand properly on shaky legs.
Osamu shakes his head slowly, blinking the dots still blurring the edge of his vision away. He takes a couple of seconds to register the words, before looking up at his boyfriend, brows furrowing together.
If he doesn’t mind?
“What?” he hears himself ask almost silently, using the shelves behind him to get back on his feet properly.
Osamu receives a helpful hand that drags him up. Just to swirl him around immediately.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Suna asks as he nearly plasters himself over Osamu’s back in the process.
“The hell are ya—”
“If you mind, tell me now, Osamu. ‘Cause it’s a miracle no one walked in on us yet and I don’t think that’s gonna last much longer,” Suna rushes to whisper, lips brushing Osamu’s earshell with each word.
His head is seriously spinning from the high he’s still clearly riding and even that small stimulation makes Osamu shiver all over.
“What d’ya mean?” he gathers enough wit to ask, a hand flying to an upper shelf for purchase, the other gripping his belt but not pulling his pants up.
“I mean I need to fuck you into next week right now ... Or into those volumes of French History at least,” Suna answers at Mach speed, hand prying between Osamu’s asscheeks.
“Oh god,” Osamu chokes, eyes going wide as some sense comes back to him.
“God doesn’t mind, Osamu. What ’bout you, though?”
Suna’s index finger slips right back in, all the way to the last knuckle and Osamu nearly makes a few books topple over when he jumps against the shelves from the over-stimulation.
“The librarian’s gonna mind,” Osamu whispers furiously but his treacherous body presses back into Suna’s touch.
“Unless you keep it down.”
It’s almost unfair Osamu has to take such a critical decision when his fucked out brain is still buzzing with endorphins. Almost because he feels like the luckiest man on the planet at the same time, if the way his heart flutters and his stomach is repeatedly performing excited somersaults is any clue.
“Do the thing then,” he says, closing his eyes again to avoid staring at a boring manual on French revolution that’s pressed so close to his face Osamu almost goes cross-eyed.
He hears Suna suck in his breath. Of course he would. The thing isn’t just going to help Osamu keep it down, it’s going to help them avoid a very awkward encounter with a poor college student by shortening things down drastically.
Osamu focuses on the overwhelming sensations running through his body while he forces himself to stay upright despite his knees turning to jelly as Suna scissors his fingers mercilessly.
He’s actually mindful and sweet, trying to avoid Osamu’s abused prostate for a couple of minutes while working him open the fastest he can but it doesn’t last and as soon as Suna judges Osamu can take it, he gets carried away.
Osamu’s nails rake over the shelves, thighs shaking an embarrassing amount as he bites on his lips to contain whimpers and keening sounds that threaten to spill. Until he can’t hold them in anymore.
“You’re too good to me," Suna says genuinely when he removes his fingers and leans into Osamu’s body to kiss him just below the ear.
Suna sounds out of breath.
Osamu braces himself, lips parting in a shaky exhale as he leans back into him.
“Do it, or I’m gonna start sayin’ cheesy shit,” he threatens, because no, he’s not too good to Suna, he’s just very much in love with him and ready to do the stupidest things so they can both get high together.
He can feel Suna nod eagerly against his nape then, the next second, he almost shouts.
Osamu is filled from both ends as Suna thrusts inside him and pushes a couple of fingers past his lips. His jaw and ass instinctively clamp down from the onslaught, making Suna curse long and low in his throat.
Suna is right, though, they can’t push their luck too far, so nevermind if he’s already losing it. Osamu is going to drive him even crazier and gets to work in a rush.
It’s not like it’s an ordeal to suck on Suna’s digits anyway. Osamu has been dreaming about sucking him off since yesterday when Suna put on that show on the dancefloor. He’s been dreaming about choking on his dick since he saw him move around in those tight, revealing black pants so he’s going to choke on his fingers instead.
And he does it enthusiastically.
It’s the only thing Osamu can do not to get loud as hell anyway. Suna drags him away from the shelves to bend him forward, fucking into Osamu fast and borderline roughly. Osamu holds onto a shelf, tongue swirling around Suna’s fingers, hollowing his cheeks around them like he would if he was giving him a quick messy blowjob, humming around the digits everytime Suna drives a little deeper.
He’s soon completely slumped over Osamu, grinding into him and grunting in the crook of his neck — Osamu’s cock stirring between his legs.
He’s feeling way too much to come a second time and would rather die than come twice in the same condom anyway, but Osamu experiences a confusing mix of despair and euphoria finding out just how much Suna gets under his skin even in the worst situations.
“Say some cheesy shit,” Osamu is surprised to hear Suna ask, making him snap out of his trance.
“Hm?”
Suna’s fingers disappear from his mouth, leaving Osamu oddly empty despite the cock pistoning in and out of his tight, barely prepared ass. He’s a little out of it and his heart completely swells in his chest when Osamu realizes Suna did it so he could hug him properly from behind instead.
“Want to hear sm’thing cheesy,” Suna pleads in a murmur, thrusts growing more and more erratic.
“Rin, oh my god,” Osamu almost chuckles heartedly before remembering he needs to keep it down.
Suna moans, burying his face in the hoodie of Osamu’s sweater, in shame probably. Osamu’s heart hammers in his chest so hard Suna probably feels it through the layers of clothes.
“Wish I could see yer pretty eyes, right now,” he then blurts out without even thinking, gripping Suna’s hands over his chest.
Maybe because it’s not corny, it’s just the reality.
There’s another muffled groan — the telltale sign of the end of their little adventure — and Osamu has to brace himself harder to avoid face-planting in the shelves. Suna’s sneakers squeak on the ground as he slides forward to bury himself deep inside Osamu, the high-pitched sound echoing in the quietness of the library threateningly but none of them care. Certainly not Suna who shakes above Osamu for another thirty seconds as he comes down from his high.
He’s still hugging him fiercely when the back of Osamu’s thighs start cramping and he needs them both to move.
He wouldn’t be eager to peel himself off Suna otherwise. But the cramps and the threat of anyone walking in on them definitely helps fighting the sickeningly sweet sentiments.
“Dude, we’ll cuddle back home,” Osamu whispers through his teeth when Suna keeps clinging to him, shorts still pushed under his ass.
Osamu turns around in his arms, dragging his own pants back up and doing the same with Suna’s. He expects Suna to say something witty but is struck by the sight. Suna’s eyes are droopy but so fond it makes Osamu’s stomach jump even more than all the dirty things they’ve done up until now.
“That was some really cheesy shit.”
There goes the witty mouth.
“Sh’t’up,” Osamu huffs, staring into Suna’s eyes like he’s completely mesmerized.
“I loved it,” Suna whispers, grabbing the front of Osamu’s hoodie.
“Felt that,” he comments with a smirk, not even mad. “C’mon, we need to get the fuck outta here.”
“Bathroom detour,” Suna objects, pointing at both their clothed dicks.
“If we throw the condoms into their trash, they’re gonna use DNA tests to find me, I won’t be able to come back here to study and I’ll fucking fail college,” Osamu says, shaking his head wildly as he steps away.
Suna stares at him, unmoving. Before suddenly cracking up.
Osamu’s eyes go wide and he rushes to muffle Suna's clear laughter with a hand. As if they were still hanging around with their pants down. Suna lets Osamu wrestle him into a sort of hug that allows him to shut him up effectively.
“We just fucked in a public place and you’re scared they’re going to send a forensic team after your ass? Dude, trust me if you fail college it’s because you've completely lost it,” Suna murmurs through chuckles, mouth pressed behind Osamu’s palm.
Then he looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief and the same fondness as earlier. Osamu stops wriggling to stare back into them.
He could laugh at his own stupidity too but something in Suna’s gaze makes his throat close up and Osamu heaves a long sigh instead. A sigh supposed to show how aggravated he is but he ends up sounding nothing but satiated and blissed out.
“Fuck you, Rin,” he says, a smile growing on his face as Suna nuzzles his palm. “Let’s get the fuck out of here so I can say hell of a lot more cheesy stuff.”
And when the corner of Suna’s eyes wrinkle with a happy smile at that, Osamu wonders if he’ll ever have enough words to cover his feelings for him.