Can you imagine going to the movie theater with the Miya twins?
Atsumu letting out a loud whoop upon seeing the rows of seats empty, running up the stairs and barreling down an aisle to pick where the three of you would sit.
Osamu is more contained, acting like the adult he is, holding your hand as you follow behind the more rambunctious twin.
Imagine the movie starting, being wholly disinterested in whatever’s playing on the screen, more focused on the throb between your legs, the wicked desire rearing it’s head in your body, making your hands itch to feel warm skin beneath them.
And there’s no one else in the theater, so why not indulge?
There’s really no reason for why you pick Osamu, moving your hand from the armrest of your seat and pressing it flat to his stomach, feeling his abs tense up underneath your fingers. You could just as easily reach to the other side of you, where Atsumu sits, and do the same to him.
Osamu is easier, you suppose.
He lets you unbutton his pants, slowly slide down his zipper, dig his cock out of his underwear and tuck the elastic waistband firm around his balls. Atsumu would be too eager, try to get you to go faster, touch him now, but Osamu has always been able to restrain himself more, although not by much.
You rub him dry, slow strokes of his shaft with a loose fist, and he’s wincing, you can tell. It would hurt if your grip was any tighter, but at the most it can’t be more than a subtle irritation - his cock is filling out fast in your hand, obviously interested.
Warm and long, pretty and cut. Both of them are. Atsumu’s has a bit more chub, a bit more heft to his cock, but you like them both the same.
It’s a leisurely sort of thing, the way you fondle Osamu. As he starts to leak pre, wet and sticky, you use it to slick your hand, tightening your grip, speeding up just a little. Building the man up and up towards his orgasm, closer and closer, his hips giving desperate little humps upwards into your hand , Osamu’s fingers clutching at the armrests of his seat-
And then you let go.
Osamu groans.
His cock twitches up against his stomach, easy to see in the dark by the way the pale skin stands out against his dark clothes. He’s probably getting his shirt messy, leaking onto it where his cock rests. He knows better than to touch himself, taking his eyes off the movie to look at you imploringly.
You smile gently, taking him in hand again and the man sighs. He’s so pretty.
Throughout the movie you keep edging him, teasing. Building him up to an orgasm and then forcing him back, massaging his tip, fluttering your fingers around the base before squeezing tight and racing your hand up along the shaft as if to milk him.
He feels deliciously soft, throbbing against your palm, dick veiny and twitching with a mind of it’s own as his balls tighten beneath the elastic of his underwear, as he squirms again with the orgasm you’re edging him to, knowing that you won’t let him have it.
A pinch to your thigh catches your attention.
Atsumu is pouting at you, fully focusing his attention on you and his brother instead of the movie. Apparently you hadn’t been as casual as you thought as you played with his twin.
But you couldn’t edge both of them at the same time. Having both your hands full of dick isn’t as easy as it sounds, and you didn’t want a mess in the theater for the poor high-school employees to have to clean up.
“No ‘Sumu, I’ll play with you later.” You promise turning your attention back to his brother, who’s glazed-over eyes stared blankly at the big screen in front of you all. Your hand was so wet around him, his cock bubbling precum out from the slit. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ruined his underwear.
Atsumu pinches at your thigh again, and you turn to him with a frown. “I said no, be a good boy.”
He deflates, hand hovering over the popped button of his jeans where a bulge is obvious, straining against the material. “Aw, lemme touch myself at least?” he cheekily whispers back and you sigh.
“Fine, but you don’t get to cum. Your brother isn’t allowed to until I say so.” You explain the rules you’d been playing along to in your head, and Osamu catches your attention with a low whine; he’s relieved to hear that he’ll get to cum eventually.
Atsumu grins lazily, stuffing his hand down his pants, and you have to trust him not to shoot his load as you turn back to Osamu, wanting to torture him a bit more.
And torture him you do, even going so far as leaning over the armrest to breathe hotly against his cock, watching as it bobs in the dark at the sensation, Osamu’s abs tightening again.
He’s so good, so obedient.
The movie’s 120 minutes long, and you’re planning on spending every one edging the hell out of the man beside you. You’ll let him cum before the lights come back on, jerking him into a napkin that had come with the popcorn so there wouldn’t be a mess.
He’d be wobbly trying to walk back to the car, boneless and satisfied after such a long buildup to a gratifying orgasm. Maybe you’d have Atsumu help him along, just so the other man wouldn’t be all over as you walked out, trying to rub his dick against your hip.
And then, when you got home, you’d let Atsumu fuck you in the shower while you soaped up his brother, panting into Osamu’s chest while the gray-haired man watched his twin edge and tease you just as relentlessly as you had done to him.
