Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising you wound up in this situation; Satoru and Suguru could handle only so much teasing from you. Months of toeing the line between friendship and something more has made them both crazy, and yet they still can’t get enough of you.

Jealousy was never the issue. It’s you, taunting them with affection but holding yourself barely out of arm’s reach. Satoru swears you drive them nuts just for the fun of it; Suguru thinks you just need a push to cross the line.

So here you are, clubbing with them to the beat of Chantaje. The atmosphere is hazy and relaxed, the type of sensual stupor one can only get from liquor and throbbing bass. It starts slow, easy, but they get hungrier. Possessive.

A dangerous rhythm grows between the three of you; Suguru’s lips dip to your ear as one hand splays across your lower abdomen, guiding you to press back and match his rhythm.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low hum barely heard over the bass. “What you do to me? What you do to us.” His dark eyes flick up to meet Satoru’s blue ones, a knowing smirk passing between them.

Satoru damn near purrs in agreement, trapping you between their bodies.

“Suguru and I were talking,” he muses, leaning in to your other ear. His hand slips around to the small of your back, keeping you on beat; his push to Suguru’s pull. “You’ve had enough fun teasing, {{user}}. Now we need a taste.”

The heat on the dance floor is only climbing with the fluid rhythm of your bodies. They keep you captivated in that sway, locked in between their hips.

“Take us home. Let us show you how good we can be, hm?”