Imagine being pinned between Osamu and Akaashi for some truly great head.
They switch out but for this time the one sitting against the headboard is Akaashi with you settled between his spread legs. He kept his knees bent slightly with your legs hooked over them. His arms held you in place against his sweat sticky torso. Meanwhile, Osamu is at home between your spread (forced) apart thighs. He can’t commit to a single part of you to devour so he tries everything. Bruises sucked against thighs, bite marks on hips, and his fingers, slicked up with lube, slowly working you open.
Akaashi whispered against your ear just how delectable you look from this angle; heaving chest and treambling stomach. He’ll ask Osamu when his mouth is busy how you taste. Osamu, the bastard, will hum against you and smile. When you start to whine and shake, so close to the bright lights of a promised orgasm, he’ll pull away to verbally describe what you’re like. He just can’t help it, he says, that you have to know what you do to him.
“You should share, Samu,” Akaashi called to your partner. “Let me taste them too.”
This always prompted Osamu to pull away entirely. He’ll lean up meet Akaashi’s lips in a messy kisses you can hear and half see. The only thing worse than the show is feeling both of their hard, leaking cocks grinding into you. Akaashi’s is pressed into the small of your back while Osamu is so heavy against your thigh. You try to shift to get him to slide against you enough for that final push to truly reach that pinnacle. He stops you with thick, calloused fingers pressing against your thighs.
“Darling, that’s not very nice,” Akaashi chastised to you. “Samu wants you shaking apart when he can taste you. Do we need to start over?”
“Or,” his fingers slip back into you, “do you want use both to take our fill again and again and again?”
Even losing with them is winning with tears of frustration or overstimulation spilling down your cheeks.