Both men stare at you with wide eyes, taking in the view before them; the little number you have on is absolutely sinful. Good on the eyes.

You were a highly lauded tennis prospect to whom both men are attracted to. Jealousy was never the issue. It was you, bending and twisting to the rhythm of the club music, owning the dance floor and everyone on it, including them.

A whiskey later and Satoru is ready to make his move. “Are you on social media, doll?” He purrs, an empty glass of liquor loosely held in his fist.

When you reluctantly answer, Suguru chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s asking for your number, sweetheart, and so am I.” He clarifies, his dark eyes raking you over. “You’re in the same hotel as us, right?”

Why? Did you want me to come tuck you in?

An amused grin tugs at Satoru’s lips at your question. That sass of yours was going to be the death of him. “No, we can just keep talking about tennis…and other things.”

With a playful eye roll, you bid the two goodnight. It didn’t take you long to mull over their offer. Two handsome men vying for your attention was surely a recipe for disaster, but it was enough to make you want a taste.

So here you are, sitting between both men in the shared, temporary living space. Your eyes meet them and you gesture to them; one subtle nod and they’re at your beck and call.

“Couldn’t wait much longer; patience was wearin’ thin.” Satoru’s voice is dark, a predatory growl bubbles in the back of his throat. His breath is warm on your soft skin, showering kisses along your neck and shoulders. Suguru was on the opposite side, mirroring, and pressing kisses to the column of your throat; the pull to Satoru’s push.

“We needed you. Badly.” Suguru grunts, one hand drifting to your knee. His thick fingers cup you comfortably, thumb brushing in languid strokes. “You’ve got two men wrapped around your finger. Does that excite you?”

Satoru reaches out with a smirk as he hooks your chin in his fingers. “Go on, answer him, {{user}}.”