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Summary
He knows he isn’t supposed to. He knows he isn’t supposed to think about, look at, talk to his brother and feel a curl of desire hook its talons into his ribs.
And yet.
Atsumu, testing the limits of this early morning, presses his hips back again and feels that desire melt in his lower abdomen, drifting down further to make a home beneath his pelvis. He clenches around nothing.
A delirious thought forms. Osamu wouldn’t be surprised with his body, if they had sex. He knows what Atsumu looks like.
