#osamu.thing

Watching Osamu work from behind was a treat. You’ve stopped in the doorway on your way back from the cooler, a cold box under one arm, enjoying the show. The view is amazing from your vantage point in the wooden door frame - the broad slope of his shoulders were facing you, letting you appreciate how they tapered down to his slim waist. The bow of the apron cinched above his hips only accentuates his figure, tied snug against him and pinching his shirt in slightly, cloth bunching above the tight band. 

The muscles shift as one of his arms extends to dip into the saltwater bowl. You watch them tense, appreciating every curve and sharp line as he brings his arm back in to form another onigiri. It would be easy to stand where you were and keep watching, but you're interested in getting a closer look.

The box slides onto a nearby counter soundlessly. You stalk up behind Osamu, who continues to press the rice in his hands, unaware of your presence behind him. The view is even better up close. It was one of the rare days he was wearing a t-shirt as opposed to his usual long sleeve, allowing you an unobstructed view of his toned arms as they moved to make the onigiri. Your eyes stay focused on his arms as he places the final rice ball onto the counter- he has some stray grains stuck to them, the bright white specks in sharp contrast with the tan of his skin.

Your gaze sharpens into something more predatory. You're a good person: you should help him clean up.

Osamu’s finally alerted to your presence when you grab his wrist. He turns his head towards you incrementally, half- sighing, "I’m working right now." 

"You’re the owner. Take a break," you say softly as you pull his arm towards you, “and let me help you clean up.” There’s a grain on his wrist. You kiss it off, sucking at the skin and making Osamu sigh. Your mouth moves along his hand, up to the meat of his thumb where another grain had stuck. Another gentle kiss takes it away, his eyes following your mouth’s movements with interest. They widen minutely, eyebrows raising as you pull his hand closer and pull two of his fingers into your mouth, tongue sliding along the undersides and picking up the last of the stray rice. They’re cool and salty from the water he’s dipped them in. They’ll warm up fast.

It’s easy to lever his back against the prep table with his arm in your control. Osamu lets you push him back as you lean into his space, slipping another finger into your mouth and bobbing as you suck down harder. His eyes are trained on your lips - he swallows, gaze becoming half lidded, and murmurs, "Someone could walk in." 

All you had wanted was to visit him briefly as he closed -just to get a view of his waist cinched in that apron, maybe to pick up lunch for tomorrow- before heading back home. However, as soon as you entered you could tell your boyfriend was planning something. Sure enough, after waving the last customer out the door and locking up, he had pulled you into the kitchen, kissing you like he hadn't seen you in weeks. 

(You had seen him yesterday.)

Currently, your pants were off and Osamu was on his knees, his tongue working its magic on you. You cursed loudly as he did that thing with his teeth that made your toes curl.

"Fuck, 'Samu," you pant, already closer than you wanted to admit. "You're s'good t-tuh… to me," you manage to stutter out as he pushes one spit-slicked finger into you, quickly followed by another. He scissored them open slightly, teasing another groan out of you. fuck.

You feel his hot breath on your thighs as he pulls away slightly. "Only 'cause you deserve it, darlin'," he huffs out, standing as he does. He towers over you, caging you against the counter. "Think you're ready for me yet?" He asks as he leans into you, grinding his dick into the junction of your hip and closest leg.

Fuck yes you were. You kiss his stupidly sculpted chest and move down to catch a nipple with your teeth, grazing it and relishing the groan you hear your boyfriend trying to suppress. "Only for you, Osamu," you reply. His hands, calloused from years of volleyball,  run down your sides and drop to your hips. His journey stops as he pauses to grab your ass and knead at the flesh there, pulling delicious sounds from you as you push into him, sensitive and needy.

"Just for me. Only for me… god, baby, gonna fuck you right here on the countertop…" He hooks his hands under your knees and lifts, throwing your feet over his shoulder and pressing the small of your back to the counter behind you.

The first push in has you gasping. It's always a tight fit, trying to cram all of him into you, but the stretch is always so gratifying. He fucks into you gently, easing into you thrust by thrust, inch by inch, your walls tight and hot around him. He bottoms out, pressed into you as far as he can, and stops. You're both breathing hard, your pants the only thing you can hear in the empty kitchen. He looks at you, arms braced on the counter, and says: 

" 'M gonna skewer you, babe," with an absolutely shit eating grin.

"Please don't make food puns when you've got your dick inside-"

Your complaint is cut short as he pulls back and slams into you. fuck. Your brain, the mutinous traitor, refuses to work with Osamu's cock jackhammering into you. His thrusting continues, and your arms fail you as well.

You push your hands further out to your sides, scrambling to get purchase so you can get stabilized and meet his hips halfway. Unfortunately for you, one slides right onto the still-on burner for the forgotten pot of dashi boiling away on the stove that you were fucking directly to the next to.

"Fuck!" Your body jerks violently at the sudden pain. Your hand flies from the stove, flapping as though you could fling the incoming burn away. God damnit. This is absolutely going to blister.

"You cummin' already?" Osamu asks, belatedly. "Oh. Oh shit! Babe!"

He's already pulling out, your legs dropping unceremoniously to the floor. Osamu rushes you to the sink, turning the cold tap as far as it would go and guiding your hand under it, explaining in rushed tones how this will help stop the burn from spreading, to leave it for as long as you can stand it, baby, you'll be fine, I've got you.

It's an admittedly funny sight, 'Samu running around the kitchen like a headless chicken clad only in socks, cock bouncing freely as he rushes to get medical supplies for you. You wish you weren't distracted by the bite of the cold water and the dull stabs of pain from your burned palm.

Osamu appears in front of you suddenly with gauze in hand and concern in his eyes, his still hard dick making a comical slapping sound as it impacts his thigh. It swings pendulously from the sudden stop. You snort. It helps, In a way.

He takes your hand with a gentle touch, spreading a cooling salve on the burn before wrapping the gauze around your damaged hand. The tender touching is a far cry from the harsh fuck you were getting only minutes before, but no less welcome. He tapes the gauze in place, pressing your freshly-bandaged hand to your chest and leaning to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He can be so soft with you, when he wants. You turn, pressing your face to his chest and embracing him. You can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest as easily as you can feel his warm skin on yours. This helps, too.

He holds you there for what feels like hours but must have only been minutes. You shift, sighing. Osamu is warm, but you're getting cold. You shift again, and he shifts with you, unconsciously rutting into you.

You look down. His erection, which was pushing into your hip, hadn't flagged at all. 

"Osamu…" you trail off, nonplussed. He pushed again, intentionally. "Osamu. I have a 3rd degree burn. At least."

"Goes to show how hot you are, darlin'," he retorts, bringing your bandaged hand to his face and pressing a gentle kiss to it before cradling it to his chest.

"Baby. That doesn't even make sense…" you trail off as he trails kisses down your arm before moving to your neck again, sucking at the marks he had left earlier. God damnit, you were going to let him continue, weren't you? Damn this man and his charisma.

He lifts you into into a bridal carry effortlessly. He doesn't even strain. Fuck. Shit. You'd let him get away with anything and he knows it. You've got it bad. Gently, he places you down on a counter far away from the stove.

Osamu leers at you. He makes it look cute, the fucker. "So, where were we?" 

He leans into you. You lean back with him, grinning. The warmth of his chest pressing to yours matches the warmth at your back. The heat at your back. The uncomfortable heat at your back. What…? The SEARING PAIN-

"THE FUCKING- THE RICE COOKER-!!!!"

"SHIT-!!!"

You didn't know what else to do.

You were pressed to the counter, hands pinned above your head with one hand as Osamu pounded into you from behind at a furious pace. Even though you're being filled to the brim by him, there's an aching emptiness he can't seem to reach.

What happened to us?

You wanted to be enough for him, but you saw how he looked at the girl who came in every Friday at 6 with an order for her college team. How he lit up around her like he never did around you. It wasn't fair- how did she get that reaction when you couldn't? You knew him. You have known him, since high school. You knew what he liked to listen to when he rides the train, his least favorite book, you knew where had lost his virginity and even what brand of tofu he preferred to put in his miso soup.

But did he know you like that? Did he care about you the same way anymore?

He definitely knew how to get you to come. His technique is as good as ever and he's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you burn with pleasure hard enough that you're almost crying. Would be even notice if you did cry?

He never looked at your eyes when you fucked anymore. You push to look back at him and see that he has his eyes screwed shut.

The push sent Osamu farther into you than you thought he could go, and he grinds into you, deep and hot. Pressed to the hilt, you can feel his cock throbbing as it presses deeper into you still. A hand ghosts down your stomach and teases you, the light touches enough to send you over the edge. Muscle contract and you shake minutely as the bliss radiates up, moaning his name as you climax. Your velvet heat pulsing around him finally gets Osamu to cum as well.

When he pumps into you, grunting her name out instead of yours, you choke. You knew on some level, intellectually, you weren't stupid, but having it confirmed like this? Grief wraps like a fist around your heart.