Archive of Our Own ^beta

Like every stupid mistake that has to do with Dazai, it starts with a bet. 

A really thoughtless one, at that. 

“It’s not that sad. You’re just sensitive.” 

“I’m not sensitive, and it is ,” Chuuya snaps and gestures at the TV screen. “He waited for over nine years! How can you not find that sad?!” 

Leaning back against the couch, Dazai yawns. “What I find sad is that you over-identify with a fictional dog, chibi. You’re probably only invested because you’d wait nine years for your dead owner as well. That’s sad. But not enough to make me cry.” 

“Shut it.” Chuuya wipes at his eyes, his chest still heavy from the last two hours of watching Hachiko. Eight years on the streets, four and a half years in the mafia, and this movie is the worst thing he has ever seen. “And Hachiko isn’t fictional. The movie’s based on real-life events.” 

“Yes, and the Americans took that and westernized both owner and dog,” Dazai points out flatly.

Well, Chuuya can’t argue with that, but the fact that Dazai has indeed not shed a single tear during the entire movie or even let his face twitch with some sort of emotion still baffles him. Obviously, people are different. Chuuya has always been aware that he’s more emotionally built than others, feeling and thinking and acting with his heart first, everything else later. Dazai, however.. is on a whole other level of emotionally constipated if even Hachiko doesn’t tug at his heartstrings. 

Shaking his head with a sigh, Chuuya gets up and starts cleaning up the mess they made of his living room. “The movie is devastating.” 

“Chuuya just likes to cry.” 

“Everyone cries at some point, asshole.” 

“Not me. I don’t.” 

“Hah?” 

Dazai pointedly doesn’t move a muscle as Chuuya picks up the empty packages of gummy worms and popcorn around him. Food that Dazai opened. “I don’t cry, so no. Not everyone.” 

“I know you like to think that being a cryptic angst king is some sort of fashion statement, but you can’t honestly tell me that you have never cried before.” 

Chuuya catches the moment Dazai’s quiet indifference turns to mild annoyment, which is why the bastard snatches one of the empty bags and tosses it to the other side of the room.

“You —! Stop before ants infest my fucking place! Not everyone wants to live at a disposal site, you know!” 

“I don’t have any bugs at home, and that’s what you get for being deliberately obtuse. I know you’re not as stupid as you look, so stop pretending to be.”

Chuuya huffs out a vexed breath and stomps over to the bag to clean that up, too. “I’m not pretending to be stupid. I just think you’re a liar that doesn’t want to admit something completely natural.” He shoots Dazai a glance over his shoulder. “Or are you one of these people that think that guys can’t cry?”

“Whether I’m a man, a woman, or neither, I would not and will never cry. Why is that so hard to understand?” 

“Fine,” Chuuya snaps, starting to grow irritated as well, “whatever.” He means to drop it, really, but when it comes to Dazai and their arguments – well, he can’t ever quite seem to let it go. It’s like a scab on his skin that he can’t seem to stop scratching. “I bet I could make you cry,” he mutters under his breath as he walks past Dazai to the kitchen. 

Obviously, Dazai hears it. 

“And how would you do that, pray tell?” 

Dumping all their shit into the trash, Chuuya shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m creative.” 

“You have a list with 200 ways to torture me, and not a single one of them has ever made me cry.” 

“You know there are other ways than physical torture to make someone cry.” Though, granted, that list isn’t just that either. It’s an entertaining mix of things to annoy Dazai. “I have a few ideas concerning your buddy. What was his name? Oda?” 

Dazai’s eyes narrow. “You know exactly what his name is, considering you get piss-poor jealous every time you see him.” 

“Oda, right,” Chuuya chooses to ignore that last statement. “Personally, I think you’d shed a tear or two if something ever happened to him.” 

Now, that really wasn’t the direction he ever planned to take this conversation – he didn’t plan to take it anywhere, really. It just happened. As many things do when you put the two of them, and their one shared brain cell into the same room. 

It is very entertaining, to say the least, to poke the bear a bit, to see the beast slumbering under Dazai’s façade of cold apathy. One could even say that it has become one of Chuuya’s favorite past times. Playing with fire. 

“You cry because of stupid dog movies,” Dazai finally says, a hint of icy anger laced in every syllable that comes out. “As if you would ever have the guts to hurt Odasaku for a game.” 

“You forget that we’re both in the mafia.” Chuuya shoots him an easy smile. “People can be emotional and cold-blooded murders. It’s called range.” 

“You kill to defend, never to torture.” 

“You think.” 

“ I know.” 

“ You think ,” Chuuya insists because he’s a child.

“I know ,” Dazai repeats because they’re cut from the same wood. 

At this point, the conversation is heading towards Chuuya killing someone in cold blood just to prove a point. Although he has made his peace with his way of living and what kind of sacrifices it involves, maybe Dazai’s right about this one. Chuuya doesn’t want his hands dirtier than necessary. “Whatever,” he gives in with a huff and turns to the sink. “I was thinking about something else anyway.” Physical and emotional torture aside, there are still ways to make someone cry. Fascinating ways.

“Just give it up.” Dazai fishes his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling aimlessly. “Chuuya will never make me cry.” 

And this one of these pivotal moments that end up changing the course of history. 

Because, unlike the public opinion, it is not only Dazai in this two-people-partnership that gets them into trouble. In fact, seven out of ten times, it’s Chuuya dragging them head first raging against the storm, Dazai following suit because he will always, always refuse to have someone else have the last word. 

Chuuya pauses as he does the dishes to shoot his stubborn idiot partner a cocky look. “Wanna bet?”

It’s these simple two words that seal the deal. As if Dazai would ever back down from a gamble. 

“Your misplaced confidence is laughable, but sure, Chuuya. Go ahead and lose another bet. What will it be now? The sixth loss in a row?” 

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “The fourth. Learn to do math.” 

“Learn what to bet on.” 

“Are you in, or are you out?”

“Of course, I’m in. I want that cherished bike of yours.” 

Albatross’ bike. What in the world does Dazai need it for? 

It doesn’t matter, Chuuya decides, because he won’t win. Not this time. 

“I want a second opportunity to make you cry.” 

Dazai’s brows tug into a tiny frown before he schools into his usual blank mask of boredom. 

Yeah, Chuuya thinks, turning back to the sink, feels shit to be in the dark, huh? 

“No rules?” 

“No rules,” Dazai confirms. 

Yup. There never are.

***

Chuuya takes his sweet time to strike. Both because watching Dazai being all ruffled as he fruitlessly tries to figure out how Chuuya will take on their newest challenge and because Chuuya’s genuinely busy with a high-priority job from the boss himself.

When he does strike, though, Chuuya makes sure to use every known weapon available, aka all the deadly charms he learned when he trained under Kouyou’s direct command. 

The place Chuuya goes looking for Dazai is one of the mafia-affiliated bars in the docking district. How does he know that the mackerel will be there? It’s Monday, which means all the dirty work that piled up over the weekend falls to the mafia’s mysteriously benevolent handyman. Because Dazai just came back from a mission abroad himself, he’ll want a drink. Or five. 

Usually, Chuuya ends up joining him or dragging Dazai to that dreadful place he calls his apartment. 

Tonight, though, Chuuya’s planning to take him home .

As expected, he spots Dazai sitting at the bar upon entering. Chuuya walks over like he owns the place, and just when Dazai is about to open his mouth and order something, Chuuya cuts in. “A glass of red wine and whiskey.” He gives Dazai a greeting smile. “Isn’t that right, Dazai?”

“ Beer ,” Dazai corrects just to be stubborn. His gaze is sharp on Chuuya as he sits down and makes himself comfortable, stretching out the kink in his neck and rolling up his sleeves. He left a few of his trademark layers at his place, only wearing his white button-up, the first few buttons opened, and his extra tight leather pants. 

“I didn’t call you,” Dazai says. 

“And? Do I look like I need your permission to come here and have a drink?” 

“Wow,” Dazai mutters to himself as the bartender places his drink in front of him, “so the dog learned free will.” 

“Careful, Dazai.” Even though there’s a stack of napkins on his right, Chuuya reaches for the ones on Dazai’s side, invading so much personal space that he gets a whiff of Dazai’s whiskey-laced breath that slips out because of the shameless intrusion. “Or I’m going to start assuming that you’ve been a secret furry all this time.” Chuuya’s free hand touches the rigid muscles in Dazai’s back, squeezing lightly as Chuuya shoots him, what his friends call, a million-dollar smile before leaning back. 

He’s aware that the words don’t really make sense. Not unless Dazai likes him, which he has made sure to deny a couple of thousand times over the run of their partnership. But sometimes, a well-spoken lie can be enough to do the job as well. 

“So,” Chuuya says once he’s out of Dazai’s space, although he does make sure to leave his hand on the back of Dazai’s high chair. A little reminder that Chuuya’s here and not going anywhere. “Show me how the great Dazai Osamu, youngest mafia executive in history, spends his nights then.” 

The look Dazai shoots him is drier than the Sahara, but considering he has yet to utter a sound can already be counted as a victory in Chuuya’s book. It’s the physical touching thing, he knows. Such a natural part of life for most people, but give too much to Dazai, and either he will shoot you in the head or melt into flustered, awkward jelly.

That’s why Chuuya’s plans for him… for the bet… are sure to squeeze a few tears out of him. 

“I spend my nights in good company,” Dazai replies, “which I currently don’t have.” 

“Oh, well, but aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius? Surely, you can come up with something.” 

“It’s not a matter of whether I can, slug. I simply don’t want to.” 

Chuuya takes a sip of his wine and shrugs innocently. “Then I guess I will play darts all by myself, huh?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“I’m really good at darts.” 

“…” 

“Too bad no one else here is good enough to be worth my time. Not even Dazai…” 

Dazai drags his gaze to him. “There’s not one game that I haven’t obliterated you in yet.” 

“We can change that, but I guess if you’re scared to lose, you can sit here and get drunk all by yourself.” 

Yeah, that does the trick. 

They end up in front of the darts board, taking turns hitting the eye of the bull. Considering, Dazai’s one, if not the best sharpshooter in the mafia, Chuuya’s not surprised that he excels at this game as well, but Chuuya doesn’t break any sweat as he keeps their scores even. 

After landing another hit, he turns to see Dazai scan him for – for something. Chuuya quirks an eyebrow. 

“Did you learn to hide for the tainted sorrow without showing it?” 

“I’m not using my damn ability for darts, idiot.” 

“Then you’re cheating.” 

“Or, I’m just that good, but…” Chuuya grabs Dazai’s hands – his skin is eerily cold despite all the layers and stifles a laugh when he feels the gears in Dazai’s brain stop functioning. “Now you know I’m not cheating,” he explains before aiming at the board with his right hand and – center. Dead on. Dazai does nothing. Chuuya squeezes his hand as he nudges his chin towards it. “See?” 

“Yes, I see,” Dazai snaps and yanks his hand out of his grip. There is a question on the tip of his tongue, except that he doesn’t want to say it aloud. Chuuya can imagine why, even though he finds it stupid. No matter what the world might think of him, Dazai doesn’t have to have an answer to every question in the world, especially when it comes to inexplicable, undefinable things like this. Like them. Chuuya started it, and honestly? He doesn’t have an answer either. 

It’s about the bet. 

It’s about proving a point. 

It’s about the primal desire to strip Dazai of all his layers and walls, both physical and mental, and find something real. 

“I told you I’m going to make you cry,” Chuuya finally says and throws the last dart in his hands at the board before meeting Dazai’s deep stare, “and I’m going to do that tonight.” 

“With darts?” 

“No, with sex.” 

Dazai’s pink lips part around silent question marks as he looks at Chuuya. Then his confusion bleeds into a twisting sneer. “Sex? That’s your plan?” 

Chuuya’s nostrils flare ever so slightly. “Yeah!” Dazai makes it incredibly easy to feel like the most stupid person in the room. 

“Chuuya, I knew that your head was in the clouds, but you seem to have lost it entirely. What in the world makes you think that you could achieve that with sex?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you almost cry when someone touches you.” 

“It’s unusual, but it’d never be enough for anything more than a few goosebumps. You’re so going to lose.” 

“Am not,” Chuuya snaps. “You just say that because no one’s ever touched you well enough before.” 

“I’ve had sex.” 

“But was it good?” Chuuya takes a step forward, placing a hand on the place where Dazai’s heart is beating inside his chest. Alive. Dazai is alive. “Did you actually enjoy it, or was it just another farce like everything else in your life?” 

Dazai’s expression shifts into something cruel and sharp. “So what, you are planning to change that?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I’ve slept with Kouyou’s girls before. Didn’t you know? Mori sent me gifts now and then when he decided that I needed to relax a little.” Chuuya hates every word that comes out of it. He hates how casually Dazai talks about it even though the marks are right there. “What makes you think fucking you will be any different?” 

Chuuya takes another step, so close now that the faint smell of antiseptics and vanilla seep into his system. Cocking his head, he offers Dazai a challenging smirk. “Well, how about I fuck you ?” 

***

Granted, Chuuya’s sure he could make Dazai pass out from the bottom as well – and don’t get him wrong, he likes to enjoy the best of both worlds – but there is something about a prostate orgasm, let alone, a first one, that might just break all of Dazai’s walls at once. Dazai seems to be of another opinion. 

“It can’t be that different.”

Chuuya sighs as he unlocks the door to his apartment. They spent the entire way home arguing about this. No breathless kissing. No frantic tugging at clothes just to feel each other. No, they approach their first time having sex – and wow, Chuuya never thought he would be able to think these words without cringing – like everything else: with competitive distance. “It is. Trust me.” 

“Oho, someone speaking from experience?” 

“Yeah, unlike you .” Chuuya pauses in the narrow corridor to frown at his partner. “Wait. You did sleep with men before, right? Are you even into men?” 

Considering they’re about to sleep with each other, it’s a bit late to ask this question. Chuuya knows it’s still mostly about proving something. And he knows that Dazai knows. The question lingers, though. 

“Once,” Dazai replies without a lot of details, “and no.” 

“No? And you’re still okay with this?” 

“That has never mattered before, so why should it now?” 

“Oi,” Chuuya snaps, following Dazai as he heads to the bedroom to grab his wrist, “it does fucking matter.” 

“Why? It’s only a means to an end. I want your bike, and I’m going to get it.” 

The fact that Chuuya even has to explain it is fucking – so fucking wrong. “Fuck, I don’t know, Dazai. It’s not like I actually care about you as a human being or something. Just because we say no rules doesn’t mean that you actually have to go along with whatever I suggest.” He lets loose a deep, frustrated breath, fingers trying to squeeze some sort of fucking reaction into Dazai’s skin. Something. Anything. “So if this isn’t your thing, and you don’t want to do any of this, or if you change your mind at any time, tell me, for fuck’s sake. Because I’m not Mori or a fucking stranger. I don’t think that it doesn’t matter.” 

The word friends would be both putting it on a bit too thick and a vast understatement. The principle of the matter is that Chuuya fucking cares, no matter how much he sometimes tries not to. 

“You through?” Dazai asks, though he doesn’t steal back his arm. Not yet. 

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Yeah.” 

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” 

Something so dirty shouldn’t sound so insulting, but that’s Dazai, making carrots out of fireworks. 

“Do you want me to?” Chuuya uses the fingers around Dazai’s wrist to gently guide him backwards until Dazai’s calves hit the edge of the bed behind him. 

“What I want is for you to choke on your words,” Dazai replies, and even though Chuuya doesn’t necessarily like it, it’s probably as much of a verbal consent he will get. 

“Sweetheart, it’s not going to be me who will be choking.” Using Dazai’s momentary slip of surprise, Chuuya breaches the distance between them to lean in and press a kiss to his mouth. It’s chaste, only a gentle attempt at trying to see what he’s working with here before Chuuya steadies Dazai with a second hand around his arm and kisses him again, putting enough pressure into it to evoke a fluttering, wordless noise in the back of Dazai’s throat.

“So not into men, huh?” He might as well use this opportunity to dig a little. Sliding his knee between Dazai’s thighs, Chuuya gives Dazai’s chapped bottom lip a light suck. “What about your precious Oda then?” 

Dazai frowns into the next kiss, nips at Chuuya in something like retaliation for being noisy. “Don’t talk about Odasaku when you’re trying to fuck me, slug.” 

Well, that sure seems to be a sensitive topic or something. Chuuya agrees to shut up with a hum against Dazai’s mouth, swipes his tongue against his lip in a foretaste of what’s to come before pushing Dazai away from him and against towel already lying on the bed. “I’m going to get some things. You know where the bathroom is if you need to, y’know, get ready.” 

Dazai says nothing when he gets up. Chuuya doesn’t stick around long enough to watch him leave, disappearing in his walk-in closet instead. The space he has is great for having lots of clothes, but contrary to popular belief, his collection goes beyond fancy suits and coats. A quarter of the left side is reserved for bedroom stuff. 

Chuuya opens a few drawers here and there and considers his – Dazai’s – options. Ideas. Plans. 

In the end, he walks out of the closet with quite an array of toys trailing above him in the air. They almost clatter to the floor when he sees Dazai sitting on the bed. Fucking naked, save for his damn bandages. 

“Geez,” he mutters, “way to flatten the mood, mackerel.” 

“It’s only for the be—”

“For the bet,” Chuuya finishes, letting the stuff land on the bed, “Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that, like, a hundred times today now, and no, the mood is still important. Maybe that’s why you only had shit sex before. Because you treat it like it’s a fucking job.” 

“And Chuuya’s so much better at it?” 

“I mean, I enjoy fucking. That does sound better to me.” Then he waves over the sortiment on the bed. “Anything you don’t want near you?” 

He expects a few fifty shades of grey jokes, or perhaps a cruel comment, but Dazai, for once, does what he’s told to do and takes a good look at everything. “No blindfolding.” Nodding, Chuuya puts it to the side. The whip, as well, when he points at it. 

That still leaves them with a plethora of wonderful, creative ways to win the bet – at least, in Chuuya’s eyes. It’s strange to see that Dazai still seems to be convinced otherwise. It’s even stranger still to be the one to step between Dazai’s thighs and let his gaze finally drag over every unveiled piece of flesh as Chuuya settles his hands on his shoulders, thumbs starting to rub circles into the skin without putting much thought into it. 

Chuuya has seen Dazai naked before. Neither the mafia nor their partnership ever allowed for much privacy – Chuuya’s not even sure whether he knows the meaning of these words after coming from the streets. But allowing himself to linger, to see, instead of looking past it? Worlds apart. 

“A lesson for the future, mackerel,” Chuuya sounds surprisingly soft, so he clears his throat, puts a bite into it because soft is not supposed to be what this is about, “let your partner take off your clothes. It’s sexy.” To prove his point, he hooks his index finger in the gauze around his shoulders. “Can I?” 

“Whatever,” Dazai replies, “and this isn’t a lesson.” 

“Everything can be a lesson.” 

“The only way Chuuya’s going to win this bet is because he’s going to bore me to tears. So much talk for so little — ”

Chuuya shuts him up with a kiss, a bruising, cruel one as his hands work on undressing Dazai all the way. Dazai’s responses aren’t inexperienced – not really. He kisses like he does everything else in life: with skill and finesse. But – it doesn’t feel like there’s anything real behind it. It feels automatic. And Chuuya hates that. 

“You’re the most –” Chuuya tugs the last thread of bandages off with a bit more force than necessary. “— annoying person I’ve ever met.” 

Dazai’s puff of air is hot against his lips. “Then you’ve never looked into the mirror.” 

“Shut. Up.” 

Perhaps, though, Dazai isn’t as complicated as the world makes him out to be. Getting some fire out of him is pretty simple, and luckily, Chuuya has become a pro at that. 

He only lets himself crouch down like an old man to kiss Dazai over and over for a few minutes before finally pushing Dazai down with a hand on his pale, scarred chest and following right after, knee sliding between Dazai’s thighs. 

Dazai’s breath hitches ever so slightly at the overwhelming sensation that must be the clothed fabric of Chuuya’s pants against his soft, exposed cock. Call Chuuya a cheater but he uses that moment to lick into his mouth, rub the tip of his tongue against Dazai’s warm, silky one. 

When Dazai leans away ever so slightly, it’s with an accusing and puzzled stare in his glazed eyes. “This… it doesn’t…” 

Chuuya cocks one brow. “Feel good?” 

“Yeah,” Dazai says like that’s what’s bothering him. “It must be the piercing.” 

“Mhh,” Chuuya nuzzles his face back to Dazai’s mouth as his knee rubs over his cock, “or maybe I’m just that good.” He bites off whatever protest was going to come out any second now, sets his teeth into the plump flesh of Dazai’s lips before soothing it with his tongue. This time, it’s Dazai who drags him back into a kiss. 

That’s fire. That’s not automatic, or robotic, or anything but fierce want, and even though it’s not going to make Dazai cry anytime soon either, Chuuya feels a tug of satisfaction in his chest. He did this. He is doing this. 

He’s still kissing Dazai, trying to find every sensitive spot in his mouth and exploit it, as his hand reaches out to blindly look for – ah, there they are. Either Dazai notices his momentary distraction – which isn’t all that likely because Chuuya’s an excellent multi-tasker, thank you very much – or the handcuffs Chuuya’s already tugging towards the two of them make too much noise. 

When Dazai pulls away, hair sticking every which way and long lashes fluttering as he shoots the pair of handcuffs a curious glance – god, Chuuya has to dig his nails into his palm not to lean down and kiss him all over again. Messy. Dazai looks perfectly, utterly messy with his lips swollen and skin flushed. A slightly sadistic part of Chuuya can’t wait to see him ruined later. In shambles. Definitely crying. 

Chuuya grants him a good look at the handcuffs and clicks his tongue. “Can I?” 

“If you think that’s going to make you win somehow,” Dazai replies idly even though his voice is definitely a few octaves rougher than his usual annoying pitch, “then go ahead. I can’t wait to watch you fail.” 

Well, no. The main event will be tying him up altogether and fucking him so good with everything at Chuuya’s disposal until Dazai’s begging to come and then – then stop. For now, though, Chuuya just wants him a little restrained as he goes down on him. 

“Have you ever been handcuffed?” Chuuya has secretly titled the jut of Dazai’s chin when he looks at him with the I can’t believe how stupid Chuuya is look. “In bed, I mean, fucking smartass.” 

“No,” Dazai answers and watches Chuuya snap the leather before nudging his head for Dazai to scoot up closer to the headboard. 

“Until now. I’m going to handcuff you to the headboard – yeah, just like that. If it ever starts hurting or you want to stop –”

“—then I can say a safeword, yeah, yeah, slug. You’re still talking way too much.” 

“So you do know all about that, huh?” 

“I never tried it because it would be a waste of my time, but I’m not s tupid.” 

Chuuya doesn’t feel very stupid straddling Dazai’s almost bare chest as his partner is all but spread out under him, arms handcuffed to the headboard. It must be a fucking talent to insist on trying to look bored in this kind of position. 

“Safeword,” Chuuya lets his fingers trail down the incredible length of Dazai’s thighs, deliberately grazing the inside before trailing down further as he scoots back on the bed. “Any ideas?” 

“Slug.” 

“That’s a shitty safeword. You say that in every second sentence.” 

“Gingernut.” 

Chuuya shakes his head. “I hate you, you know.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Whatever.” It’s still a jab towards Chuuya, but it’s not a nickname that he has heard Dazai ever use before – out loud, at least – so it should be fine, even if a little embarrassing for Dazai if he ends up tapping out at some point. 

Finally, sliding between Dazai’s thighs, a content sigh escapes Chuuya. There is something very peaceful about sucking cock. He likes it, and he’s been dying a little to do this ever since the topic Dazai and making him cry came up. (Perhaps even earlier. Way earlier. But Chuuya’s not about to dive into that topic now. 

“Have you ever been fingered?” Chuuya asks next before pressing his lips dangerously close to Dazai’s cock, a few touches shy of it. 

“…no.” 

It seems like today is all about firsts then. 

Chuuya feels too shaky with excitement to hold back any longer, so he wraps his hand around Dazai’s cock. He’s only half-hard which either says a lot about the bastard’s stubbornness or Chuuya’s confidence, but Dazai’s cock twitches under his fingers, pulses with blood and life, and maybe even something like desire as Chuuya strokes him. It’s a little maddening. (A lot.) 

A bead of pre-come wells up at the tip, and Chuuya leans down to lick it away, swirling his tongue around the head and digging into the slit until he feels Dazai’s body shiver slightly under him. Fuck. Readjusting his position on the bed, Chuuya uses one hand to grip the shaft, his other to push one of Dazai’s thighs. Then he wraps his lips around the head, eyes fluttering shut at the way Dazai completely and entirely invades his senses. 

“Bet you got your cock sucked before, though, huh,” Chuuya deliberately lets his breath ghost over Dazai’s length, making up for the lack of mouth with a few quick strokes, his cock now throbbingly full and hard. “Did you ever even come?” 

Above him, Dazai’s breath comes out in an irritated but strained huff. “Yeah, it’s u-underwhelming.”  

“ Underwhelming?” Chuuya has experienced orgasms from quick shower handjobs and a few awkward, stiff encounters with others that he guesses could count as meh, but never really underwhelming, at least not in those few seconds where every nerve seems to both tighten and explode. 

He wants to make Dazai feel overwhelmed for a change. 

Dazai’s hips twitch under him with every new breath, and Chuuya can’t help but smirk, knowing that Dazai would probably like to grab him by his hair and stuff his mouth full of cock all too much. How sad that he can’t do that – even though Chuuya has no doubts the clever bastard could slip out of these handcuffs just as well, if not easier. 

Fine. 

Chuuya makes sure the lube is close by before placing both his hands on Dazai’s thighs, thumbs tracing moons into his flesh, and puts Dazai’s cock back into his mouth. He starts slow, sucking lightly, tongue playing with the foreskin, making humming noises every so often to give Dazai some nice vibrations as well. Dazai’s stubbornly silent, but his body betrays him. There’s a hitch of breath when Chuuya rubs his piercing right against his frenulum, perhaps with a hint of too much judging by the way his hips jerk, but it’s more than enough to feel heat pool in Chuuya’s stomach. 

“I’m going to open you up nice and slow now,” Chuuya informs him, reaching for the bottle of lube. “If you feel any pain, please just fucking tell me. I want to make you cry because of how good it feels, not the opposite.” 

“You still,” Dazai’s voice stutters ever so slightly when Chuuya starts massaging the skin around his rim, “believe a few fingers up my ass are going to make me cry?!” 

“Spoken like every fucking dumbass who’s never had a prostate orgasm before.” 

“Big difference.” 

“ Yeah. You know it’s like your g-spot, right?” 

“Now you’re just making up words.” 

And Dazai is supposed to be the smart one in this relationship – partnership. “I should have fucking gagged you,” Chuuya mutters under his breath as he braces himself on his forearms and kisses the pulsating vein on Dazai’s cock before pressing in the first slick finger. “… although that might be an idea for next time.” 

Dazai’s walls are tense around the intrusion, body utterly still. Chuuya nuzzles his lips against the head of his cock, mouthing at the glistening precome that has gathered there before sucking him back into his mouth, trying to make him relax with pleasure. It takes a few moments, and it’s when Dazai speaks again that Chuuya realizes how much tension there actually was to begin with to steal his words. “W-what next time?” 

Chuuya hums, takes his sweet time bobbing his head up and down until he feels the muscles unclench flutteringly around his fingers. “When I win, I get to do this again, remember?” he breathes out and wiggles his finger experimentally back and forth. Dazai’s hole spasms around him, then relaxes again when Chuuya takes Dazai’s cock back into his mouth, opening up his throat for him this time until he can almost feel his entire mind-numbing length of him stretching his jaw wide open. 

“I –” Dazai tries to say, but the words never come. His “I” instead slowly bleeds into an “ah,” head tossing back as Chuuya takes him deep while starting to push his finger in and out of him slowly, meeting no more resistance. 

“Beautiful,” Chuuya murmurs when he pulls off to take a second to breathe. “Want another finger? Feels good?” 

“Feels okay,” Dazai replies, “I guess.” 

“He guesses,” Chuuya echoes as he pulls out his finger and then presses two against his hole, waiting until the flutter of muscles eases and sucks them in way too eagerly for something that’s apparently only okay. With that motivation in mind, Chuuya drags his piercing against Dazai’s shaft and pushes the fingers inside to create a slow but deep rhythm. 

It’s okay, yeah, but that’s because Chuuya has been pretty nice so far, and that bar is about to bleed dry. At this point, Dazai’s rock hard in his mouth, and even though a part of Chuuya wishes he could just lie and suck him off for hours until he starts crying, the primal desire to finally let Dazai feel what’s it like to be fucked is too wild inside him to resist. Chuuya’s fingers keep the leisure pace until the pads of his fingers brush his prostate, nice and swollen from all the work he’s been doing, and Dazai fucking jerks with his full body, cock hitting the back of Chuuya’s throat and making his eyes sting. 

Chuuya swallows more frantically than planned at that, breathes through his nose as he drags his lips off Dazai’s cock with enough suction that he knows will Dazai drive even more insane, especially with the way his fingers inside Dazai are now aiming for his sweet spot with every thrust. Pulling off Dazai, Chuuya feels ruined himself, throat tired and sore. Then he gets a glimpse of Dazai, though and – that. Chuuya wants to see that and more. 

Dazai’s eyes are squeezed shut, arms straining against the handcuffs, and his mouth is opening and closening around sounds that never fucking leave. 

Ah, fuck that. 

The bastard is not going to deprive Chuuya of this. 

He slows his fingers, pointedly avoiding his prostate now, and bites the inside of Dazai’s thigh, right across a long, white scar running down the elegant curve of it. “You’re so quiet, sweetheart.” Chuuya’s voice is fucking rough from the blowjob, but the open-mouthed kiss he sucks into his skin is feather-light. “Not enjoying yourself, huh?” 

“ Fuck you ,” Dazai hisses. “Why d-did you stop?” 

“Do you think I’m just going to fuck your cute ass and not expect anything in return? You have to work for it, you know.” 

“T-the deal was that you make me cr—ah,” Dazai’s voice ebbs away into something garbled and pitiful, the best noise Chuuya has heard in his entire life, when the two fingers press against his prostate again, grinding and not letting up until Dazai’s cock throbs a little too much. Chuuya slows down again, very careful not to end this little game too soon. 

Dazai’s sensitive, though. So, so sensitive and beautifully responsive to every touch that Chuuya’s going to have the time of his life breaking him into a million little pieces tonight. 

So much fun.

“So,” Chuuya says, his fingers all but still inside Dazai, but the hand holding his hip descends to play with balls for a change, rolling the hard flesh between his fingers in a way that makes his cock twitch again and again, “is it underwhelming?” 

Dazai’s wrecked glare lands on him. “Can’t a-answer than when you’re not giving me any, ah, orgasms.” 

“Oh, that might take a while, baby. Why end it so soon when we’ve only begun?” 

Something in Dazai’s gaze shifts, the wheels in that clever mind of his shifting and turning, and Chuuya can basically see him have the realization that Chuuya’s probably not as nice as he thought he’d be. It’s a beautiful sight. Watching Dazai come up in front of a problem that he can’t solve within seconds. 

“Okay, fine,” Dazai eventually murmurs and lets his head fall again, “it feels better than I thought it would, but I still won’t ever cry.” 

At this point, it’s like Dazai wants him to –

Ah. 

So this is the game they’re playing now. 

Leave it to Dazai to realize that he has lost and still somehow reap all the benefits from it. Sly, cunning bastard. Chuuya can’t really blame him, not when he knows exactly how good it feels to be fucked out of your wit's end. Until everything else stops mattering for a few seconds. 

“Then I suggest you buckle up,” Chuuya replies and slips his arm under the back of Dazai’s knees before shooting him a look. “You can handle a little stretch, right?” 

In comparison to most higher-ups and executives, Dazai’s physical skills are a joke, but that’s because he has to compete with people like Chuuya. They both know exactly that Dazai is capable of more than what it seems like at first, though. There are some muscles in there. 

“Fold me in half for all I care,” he hears Dazai reply like he doesn’t have two fingers inside his ass at this very moment.

Oh boy, he really shouldn’t be saying these kinds of things to someone like Chuuya, who takes challenges very seriously.    

He pushes Dazai’s long thighs against his chest, listening to hear any sounds of actual pain or protest, but, of course, the bastard is probably getting exactly what he wants right now. Once Chuuya has him in a position that makes his own guts twitch with impatience: ass exposed, cock straining against his belly and probably aching to be touched again, Chuuya’s fingers start moving again. A rhythm that is way too slow to do anything but show Dazai dizzying glimpses of what coming would feel like without ever letting him stumble over the edge, yet deep and perfect in the way it grazes his prostate. 

The only sound in the room is their loud breathing and the occasional squelch of slick fingers moving. Chuuya can’t see his face from his position, but sometimes he catches a glimpse of Dazai’s hands curling and uncurling where they strain against the cuffs at the same pace as Chuuya’s fingers are fucking into him. 

God, that subtle image of Dazai being actually affected is almost enough to undo Chuuya’s delicately trained restraint and fuck him right here and now. His cock has been begging for it ever since he first heard Dazai make that noise – fuck, maybe even since he first kissed him – but with a few deep breaths, he clears through the foggy desire in his mind and focuses on the task. 

Chuuya stays clear of Dazai’s cock, knowing that every small touch could be enough to push him over the line by now, but repositions himself to be able to get his lips on his balls, rubbing his tongue up and down against the flesh as his fingers speed up ever so slightly, craving to hear Dazai again. 

The noise that comes first is the clatter of metal – the handcuffs straining as Dazai’s arms twitch when Chuuya’s fingers hit his prostate over and over in a series of maddening thrusts. Lips wrapped around his balls, Chuuya sucks. Dazai lets out a breathless gasp, hips thrashing so wildly all of a sudden that Chuuya has to slow down and put more pressure on the back of his thighs as every nerve and muscle in his body twitches and shakes. 

“Ah – fuck!” The word is so loud that they both startle. Chuuya blinks up at him, and Dazai, his face scrunched up in something akin to delicate pain and volatile frustration, opens his eyes to stare back down at him, stuttered breaths leaving his body. “This feels awful, you stupid, tiny, sadistic wretch of a slug.” 

“Awful enough to say the safeword?” Chuuya questions genuinely and slowly starts rocking his fingers again, avoiding his prostate for now, though. 

“No!” Dazai’s hips try to move, rock down, do something but being folded in half like that doesn’t allow him anything but useless squirming. One day, Chuuya thinks, he’ll let Dazai fuck himself back on his cock, watch him do all the work for once if he wants it so bad. It will be glorious. “I just – it feels – it was so close,” Dazai stammers out helplessly, “but then you stopped and it – it went away; it feels ruined.” 

There is a very fine line between edging and ruined orgasms, and Chuuya was hoping to aim for the first, not the latter. Oh well. 

“Frustrating, huh?” Chuuya asks, barely stifling the grin on his face. 

“Awful!” Dazai snaps, and there is a new pitch to his voice. Something less serious and grave. Something more – 

More bratty. 

Oh god. 

“Would be a shame if I did it over and over again until you start crying, huh?” Chuuya speeds up his fingers the tiniest amount, but even that’s enough to have everything in Dazai clench up again. Jesus, it’s like he was made for this. He’s perfect. “Maybe until you pass out, too? Passed out from being fucked like a little slut sounds good. Don’t you think?” 

Dazai’s back arches as he breathes through another wave of an almost orgasm before it recedes back into the pit of his stomach. “I’m the s-slut? Really?” 

“Well, it’s not me who’s spread out on two fingers and being a little brat. Speaking of, how about a third one? You’ll need it if you want my cock.” 

Dazai hums something inaudible, and Chuuya stops completely. “What was that?” 

“WhateverIdon’tcare,” Dazai grumbles. 

“You don’t care? So you’re fine with only my fingers? Getting so fucking close only to never really come?” 

“No!” Dazai replies this time, straining against the handcuffs again. “You said you’d make me – said you would make me feel good, so do it, okay? Just do it!” 

Well, Chuuya supposes he did. He simply never mentioned when. 

But he’s only human as well, with his own selfish needs, and the sooner he wins this little game, the sooner he can fuck Dazai and feel him clench around his cock. The thought alone makes Chuuya dizzy. Pulling out his fingers, he reaches under his waistband, giving himself a few strokes, then squeezing himself to get a fucking grip. He’s not sixteen anymore. He can wait a few fucking minutes instead of creaming his pants. 

Mind cleared, he adds some lube to his fingers, wipes off the excess on the towel and presses them against Dazai’s hole. With all the stretching and work they’ve done, there’s no resistance, fingers slipping in slowly and deeply, making Dazai’s walls flutter around him. 

“Good?” 

“Fucking fantastic,” is the hissed answer, and Chuuya hopes the bastard can hear him chuckle as he sets up a shallow rhythm. Dazai’s so strung out that going anywhere near his prostate could be dangerous, but he needs the stretch, so when Chuuya manages to get a hand around his cock, throbbing and hot under his skin, he only does it to squeeze lightly. 

“Wha –” Dazai’s head falls back as he arches into the touch while fruitlessly trying to wiggle away at the same time. “What – are you doing?” 

Wow. Dazai Osamu asking him an honest question. 

“Trying to stop you from coming,” Chuuya answers. His voice sounds a little strained, the visceral need to finish this catching up to him. “You’re really sensitive, you know. I bet I could you make you come without even touching your dick.” 

“So what’s –” Dazai’s words pitch and turn into a whine when the fingers inside him accidentally graze his prostate. “—what’s stopping you?” 

Chuuya lets out a hoarse laugh, loosening his fingers around Dazai’s cock to stroke him with a touch so feather-light it probably feels like torture. “You’re not coming until I say so, baby, so don’t even try to use that tongue of yours with me.” Dazai has lost the ability to worm his way out of situations with his brain half an hour ago. 

The reaction is even better than expected. Metal clinging, Dazai huffs out a series of guttural whines, body trying to thrash in frustration. “Just do something – anything – please, Chuuya, I – I –”

Please. 

He said please. 

Smothering the urge to obey like a dog, Chuuya finally pulls out his fingers and helps Dazai to spread out his legs again, massaging the skin to get some blood flow in there as he considers his next course of action.

After another glance to the side where the equipment is lying and waiting to be used, Chuuya nods to himself and goes to work. “I’m going to replace the handcuffs with rope,” he explains as he crawls over Dazai to get to his wrists, “and then we’re going to try out some vibrations.” 

Dazai’s watching, listening, but he doesn’t offer more than hum as Chuuya presses his legs back against his chest, binding his wrists to his ankles in a series of quick and skilled movements. Again, it’s a vulnerable position. 

Vulnerable looks good on Dazai.

Once that’s done, Chuuya finally drags his clothes off him, fingers moving restlessly to step out of his pants and underwear. He feels Dazai’s gaze on him, leaving scorching marks everywhere it goes. Down and down and…

“You have a piercing there too?!”

Chuuya barks out a laugh as he kneels down on the bed again, unashamed and kind of amused. “Yeah, Dazai. Looks good, huh?”

“Not the word I was going to say…”

“And that would be?”

“Painful.”

“Only the good kind of pain.”

“There is no good pain.”

Catching Dazai’s eyes, the blood inside Chuuya thrums with heat. “You’re about to find out just how good it can be.” Chuuya makes sure to warm up the vibrator between his hands before shuffling over to Dazai and pressing a few reassuring, gentle touches to his skin. “You all right?” 

“… fine,” Dazai says. “Not crying.” 

They both know how close he came to that several times already, but Chuuya has the courtesy not to mention it right now. “Don’t worry, you will be.” Gripping the vibrator, he presses it against Dazai’s rim, teasing the puckered flesh in circles before trying to ease it inside.

Dazai tenses, breath becoming louder. “It’s – feels different.” 

“I know. It’ll feel good, though, sweetheart. So good…” He allows himself to grip Dazai’s cock, digging his thumb into his slit and smearing the precome around his head as he continues teasing his hole with the toy until he can slip the head inside. He takes extra time to let Dazai adjust. It’s not much thicker or larger than three fingers, but obviously very different, especially if it’s someone’s first time trying out toys. Dazai’s relaxed and calm enough again for Chuuya to lean down and wrap his lips around his cock, sucking lightly. The breathy moan that slips out of Dazai sounds beautiful, and Chuuya presses the toy deeper without any resistance before Dazai’s entire body jumps and ah. 

“There we go,” Chuuya murmurs, pushing it in and out of him slowly, while one hand lightly strokes over the bare flesh of his thighs, hips, and stomach. Gentle caresses that do nothing but add sensation to everything Dazai’s feeling right. With how sensitive he is to physical stuff, Chuuya can imagine touching him with more intent and focus will be just enough to tip him over, and maybe even farther than that. “Look how good you’re taking it, sweetheart. Feels good, huh? Being fucked?” 

Eyes squeezed shut, Dazai presses his lips together, clearly trying to fight the urge to answer. 

Chuuya lets the vibrator press against his prostate for a bit too long and a bit too hard. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” it rips out of Dazai. “Yes, please – I just need –” 

“Need a little, yeah? Not yet, baby. Not yet.” Chuuya stills the toy inside him, leaving it at a spot that’s a few inches shy of his prostate but close enough that the vibrations will drive him fucking nuts. Then he grabs the attached cockring and slips it over Dazai’s cock, evoking a deep whine. Dazai really doesn’t know what he’s in for, huh? “Take that for now, yeah? And maybe if you behave, I’ll even fuck you later.” 

“Wha – you said you will,” Dazai stammers out. “Chuuya, you said you’ll make me cry –” He sounds so desperate and on edge that he’s already all but crying in Chuuya’s ears. If you ask him, he has won this bet at this point. But it’s not always that easy with the two of them. It has to be a 100% real win. Maybe even with evidence. 

(And wouldn’t that be fun? Being able to show Dazai videos of him begging like a slut to come whenever he starts thinking a little too highly of himself. Not to mention it’d be hot, too. Chuuya’s spank bank isn’t boring, per se, but a writhing Dazai in there? Definitely an idea worth considering.) 

For now, though, Chuuya picks up the remote and sets the vibration to the second-lowest setting, being nice enough to guide Dazai into the next few minutes of torture instead of throwing him in. Dazai thrashes anyways, back arching and hips wiggling uselessly with the ropes as he tries to adjust to the new, intense, and unescapable sort of pleasure washing over him. 

Chuuya, in the meantime, crawls around him until he can lean down and press his lips to Dazai’s throat, suck and bite and feel his partner fall to piece under him. Words can’t describe how much it affects him. Chuuya has to grip his cock once again as he continues peppering Dazai’s neck and collarbone with soothing touches that equal the vibrations inside him. 

“Not enough,” Dazai mumbles, “it’s not enough – I need – I need –” 

“Need what?” Chuuya asks directly above him, being able to see every flutter of nerves up close. “Need a little more?”

 “Yes. Please. Please, Chuuya, please –” 

“Kiss me,” Chuuya tells him. “Show me how much you want it then.” 

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Dazai presses his mouth to him. It’s not a clean kiss. Not the skilled, artificial heat that they shared the first time. It’s a searing pleasure and teeth, and tongue and Chuuya finally knows what Dazai tastes and feels like when he’s fucking burning up with life. Good. Perfect. He feels perfect. 

Keeping his word, Chuuya turns the vibrator to a higher setting, and mesmerized, watches Dazai open his mouth around a silent, broken moan as the pleasure seizes him and doesn’t let go. It’s still not enough to tip him over. And it’s frustrating, perhaps even bordering on painful, and Dazai lets out a sound so cracked that it feels like he’s splitting apart right in front of Chuuya, revealing the living, bottomless ocean of perfectly masked emotions underneath. 

Over the last five years in the mafia, Chuuya has tried out a decent variety of drugs. Coke. Morphine. Weed. None of them come close to watching Dazai fall apart under him, crashing into an endless abyss without ever reaching the bottom. 

Chuuya notices that the pleasure gets too much when Dazai’s facial muscles start twitching, and he dials the vibrator down to the lowest setting, then scoots down to press a kiss to his chest. There’s still one or two rolls of gauze around him. Chuuya works around them as he strokes his hands up and down the side of Dazai’s body, slowly, softly. 

Dazai’s whimpers melt into hitching breaths that slip out of him every time Chuuya not only touches him but cups his flesh, makes him feel the physical sensation of being touched and held and devoured. “Better again, baby?” Chuuya asks when Dazai’s muscles feel less rigid, more pliant. 

Dazai’s nostrils flare, but everything about him screams pathetic and needy instead of the great demon prodigy or whatever it is their co-workers call him – Chuuya can’t keep up with all the ridiculous nicknames Dazai gets every few days. “B-better suggests it was good at some point.” 

“Wasn’t it?” With a devilish smirk, Chuuya pinches Dazai’s nipple, then rolls the hardened bud between his fingers until Dazai’s eyes start fluttering closed, head tossing back. “Didn’t it feel good when you came so close every time? Like…” Dazai’s lids fly open when the vibrator inside him jumps from the lowest purr to a decent buzz that probably teases his prostate enough to make him walk the edge. “… this?” 

“Yes!” Dazai sputters – he sputters, the words slipping out of him like all the gates of his brain have been opened, “yeah, yeah, it feels so good, Chuuya –”

“Don’t you wish you could come?” 

Dazai’s hum is garbled as he nods over and over again. 

“Don’t you wish I would take off the ring around your pretty, little cock and let you come around my cock?” 

“Yes! Ah, Please!”

“Not yet.” 

Dazai nearly screeches when Chuuya lowers the setting again, face contorted into something wild and enraged. Chuuya loves it. He rewards him by paying lots of attention to his nipples. They get all pretty and pink as Chuuya lowers his mouth to them while he keeps switching up the vibrations. 

He makes a game of finding the most sensitive spots. Dazai all but fractures when Chuuya sucks one nipple into his mouth, then lets his teeth graze the perky flesh, even if the vibrator is humming at a pretty low setting inside him. Dazai also likes them pulled and pinched and rolled. Chuuya does, too. He makes sure not to forget about the rest of Dazai’s body as well, considering every single spot seems to be super sensitive. Chuuya’s hands steadily wander over every inch of his flesh, rub and stroke and press against him until Dazai’s chest starts rising and falling heavier. Sometimes he reaches up to caress his face. When Chuuya lets his thumb graze against Dazai’s lip, curious as to what the cocky bastard will do with it, he’s fascinated to find out that Dazai accepts it all too easily. His eyes flutter shut as his lips wrap around the thumb, suckling on it. It’s not really skilled for once, but it’s desperate and mindless, and that makes it a thousand times better. 

The sight painfully reminds Chuuya of his cock, aching to fuck into something. 

“Who would have thought you’d be this much of a needy whore, hm?” To make his point, Chuuya presses the thumb down on Dazai’s tongue. It catches Dazai off guard, makes his throat spasm a bit, choking, but it quickly turns into a moan. Whore. Just like Chuuya said. “Actually, scratch that, baby. I knew it. That’s why I made the bet in the first place.” 

Withdrawing his thumb and laughing softly when Dazai deliriously tries to chase after it, Chuuya pushes him back down with a palm on his chest before raising himself on his knees. “You still remember the bet, Dazai?” Chuuya can’t suppress his own groan of delicious heat tugging at his guts when he finally wraps his fingers around his cock. Some of the tangible urge eases with the delicious pressure around him, but the need for more than the cage of his fingers, for Dazai, intensifies the longer Chuuya stares at Dazai’s blissed-out gaze. 

He wonders whether Dazai’s even conscious, still. Or whether the half-hour of edging was enough to make him slip into subspace already. 

With his free hand, Chuuya leans forward, cups his chin. “You’ll cry for me tonight, won’t you?” 

Dazai doesn’t answer. He makes a noise – a mix between a hummed no and a low whine and a gasped out-breath. 

“Use your mouth, baby,” Chuuya purrs, flicking his plump bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re so good with words otherwise, Osamu. What happened, huh? Cat got your tongue?” 

Dazai’s lids flutter, and only when Chuuya cranks up the vibrator again does he gasp out a shuddered, “Yes! Y-yes, I’ll do it – I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything, huh?” As a matter of fact, Chuuya knows exactly what he wants. 

He leaves the vibrations on medium, keeping Dazai in his pleasure-induced haze, and shuffles closer with his knees until that pretty, swollen mouth is right under Chuuya’s cock. 

Now, don’t get him wrong. He’s not about to stuff Dazai’s mouth full of cock when he’s like this – barely even able to count to 10 – and especially not when you consider that Dazai has probably never done this before. Sucked cock. Chuuya’s not a sadist – even if he might have tendencies when it comes to his partner. 

But that doesn’t mean, Chuuya can’t have his fun with him. 

Chuuya strokes himself, blood pumping in his veins as he watches Dazai stare at the way his hands work and at the four shiny pieces of metal piercing his frenulum until a fat bead of pre-come wells up at the tip. “Wanna have a taste?” 

To his utmost surprise, Dazai doesn’t hesitate before craning up his neck, trying to get his mouth on Chuuya’s cock. The ropes around his wrists and ankles don’t allow him much mobility, so Chuuya takes mercy, guides his cock closer until Dazai can mouth at it. Chuuya’s breath stills. Dazai’s eyes fall shut as he instantly, without any preamble whatsoever, wraps his lips around the head and – 

“Hey, hey, watch the teeth –” Grasping his jaw, Chuuya nudges his head back a little, stroking his fingers down his clammy skin to soothe him a little. “No need to rush, okay? Gently. Slowly.” 

The words must get through to him because Dazai lets himself be held back, but his tongue darts out to give the tip a lick, then swiping around one of the piercings until Chuuya guides his cock closer again while keeping a decent grip on Dazai’s face in case he tries to gobble him down again. 

What Dazai does – rubbing his silky tongue against the cockhead, dipping into the ridge and mouthing at it like he’s trying to kiss it – it’s sloppy, a little clumsy, but possibly the best thing Chuuya has felt in his entire life because of the sheer, unmovable greed in every single one of Dazai’s movements. 

Chuuya has never seen him this enthusiastic. Not when executing missions with a hundred souls at stake. Not when fighting for his own life. Not when hanging out with his drinking buddies. There’s always this veil that separates him from the rest of the world, this wall keeping his emotions under constant control no matter what. 

Except now. 

Dazai’s trying to suck his cock like it’s the single most important thing in the world, and Chuuya gets it. It’s not really a conscious decision. It’s an urge deep within him. Like hunger. Like thirst. Like the human’s body need for sleep. Dazai is dying for it. 

Chuuya never lets his cock push further than the wet heat of Dazai’s mouth, content stroking himself as Dazai licks up every single drop of pre-come like a starving man. It’s so good, so satisfying, that Chuuya almost wishes he could come like this, mark Dazai’s pretty face with his jizz and let him suck him dry – 

Another time maybe. 

Tonight, Chuuya thinks that Dazai’s going to die if he doesn’t get to come soon – and, to be honest, Chuuya’s dying to fuck him as well. He loves watching people fall apart under pleasure. He has learned to control his own needs while doing so. But, fuck, Dazai’s really doing a number on him here. 

Dazai lets out a pathetic whine when Chuuya pulls his cock away, but shuts up with the filthy kiss that presses against his mouth instead, filling the horrible emptiness he must feel. “I got you,” Chuuya murmurs against his mouth as he keeps giving him little, indulgent kisses and keeps his hands wandering all over his body, rubbing his skin until the blood in Dazai’s veins becomes warm, and letting his hips, his stomach, his chest press against Dazai is a grounding pressure. “Not going anywhere.” If he could, Chuuya wouldn’t ever stop, he thinks. He’d pause this moment, this night forever, and live in it, like those disney characters in wonderland. 

Bit by bit, he starts increasing the vibrations until Dazai’s stuttered breathing starts hitching with every new one, little “ah”s and “hhngg”s slipping out of his pretty mouth. 

Leaning back on his knees, Chuuya admires his work. 

All messed up hair and flushed cheeks. 

Drops of sweats running down his skin. 

Expression so gone that it feels like they’ve already reached the end of the night instead of just starting it. 

Dazai looks ruined. 

Chuuya ruined him. 

Twisting his fingers in the ropes around Dazai ankles and wrists, he starts undoing them even if it’s only to switch the position. “Let’s turn you around, huh?” 

Dazai groans uselessly, eyes trying to focus on Chuuya and failing. 

“Here,” Chuuya slides one arm under Dazai, then flips him over so he’s on his stomach. Again, he quickly binds his hands together behind his back, forcing his shoulders straight, then tugs at them to signal that he’s going to help Dazai up. With a hand around his hip, Chuuya guides his knees up, ass in the air. 

It’s a cute ass, Chuuya thinks and gives it an appreciative rub before pinching the skin, evoking a muffled yelp from Dazai. Not the biggest, roundest thing, but just the fact that it belongs to Dazai makes Chuuya feel fond of it. 

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?” Spreading his fingers across the curve of Dazai’s butt, Chuuya grips the vibrator and slides it out a few inches before pushing it back inside, making Dazai’s muscles spasm wildly when it presses against his prostate. “Or do you need some more stretching?” 

“B-been ready,” Dazai gasps out. 

“Oh, so you can use your words, after all?” 

“ Chuuya.”

“Yeah?” 

He doesn’t get a reply. Bad. Chuuya lets his hand slap against Dazai’s ass, not as hard as he does with partners he discussed kinks before, but just light enough to have Dazai jolt in surprise even if that immediately bleeds into a pleasured groan as the vibrator must press deeper. Chuuya drapes himself over the length of Dazai’s back, reaching for his chin. “Yes, Dazai?” 

“I’m ready, okay. I’m ready. I really am. Please.” 

“Hm. I suppose that’s convincing.” Chuuya leans back again, slides the toy out of Dazai, then wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his patience on a leash isn’t as easy as he makes it look. Especially not when Dazai’s in front of him looking like this. But Chuuya can’t allow himself to rush. A low groan slips out of him when he rubs the head of his cock against Dazai’s hole. “Like that, Dazai?” Dazai's fingers flex uselessly, but he keeps silent, so Chuuya continues teasing them. He only pushes the tip against Dazai’s rim to feel the beginning of overwhelming, sensational pressure before pulling away and smearing his precome on Dazai’s ass cheek, still flushed red from the spank.

“Chuuya!” 

“Hm?” 

“Please. It’s – it’s been so long. Please, Chuuya, please. Please. Please. Pleasepleaseple—” And then Dazai does something Chuuya has heard him do before. He cries. At first, the noise is so garbled and choked that Chuuya doesn’t recognize it for what is when Dazai’s words cut off. But then he hears it. The little sniffles. The emotion coming from deep within his throat. He’s crying. And Chuuya loses every bit of control that he was hanging onto. 

“Okay, baby, okay.” Chuuya’s hands tremble as he lines up, not teasing this time but pressing his cock against Dazai’s hole until he can feel the tip slide inside unbelievably tight heat. “God, you feel insane,” he groans out and forces himself to be slow, to watch as Dazai’s body accepts him, all but sucking him in. “You’re so doing so good. How’s it feel? How’s it feel to be fucked, huh?”

“ Chuuya –” Dazai’s voice sounds so broken and ruined, and Chuuya’s eyes flutter shut as he bottoms out. Every nerve inside him feels like it’s lit on fire. “I – I don’t – I’m so –” 

“So full?” 

“ Ah. Full. Yeah –”

Sliding his fingers around Dazai’s hip, Chuuya pulls out until Dazai’s almost empty again then pushes in. Hard. Deep. Dazai’s thighs wobble. 

“You want it slow?” Chuuya circles his hip and grinds against Dazai’s prostate, showing him what nice and slow would feel like. He has no doubt that Dazai will beg him to fuck him fast after almost an hour of edging, and Chuuya would like that as well, but he still wants to give him an option. After all, it is his first time bottoming, and Dazai is only human. “Or do you want it fast?” 

“Fast! Fast, p-please!” 

Fast then. 

It will not be long until Dazai’s going to stumble over the edge, but luckily for him, Chuuya doesn’t plan to stop after one orgasm. He won the bet. Dazai cried. But Chuuya wants to see those tears. He wants to trace them with his fingertips, watch the emotional release of two centuries worth of bottled up emotions, and lick them off his face. 

Curling his other hand in the ropes around Dazai, Chuuya changes the pace from nice and deep to something wild and merciless as he starts chasing his own pleasure while giving Dazai everything he has been begging for in the last hour. It’s going to be too much going from teasing to this, but that’s sort of the point. Dazai keeps his noises muffled into the sheets, but Chuuya knows how close he’s getting by the way his walls clench around Chuuya and by the way his body grows more and more taut. 

Then Dazai releases a keening whine, and everything becomes fast and messy. “Don’t stop—don’t stop – please, please – I’m so –” 

Chuuya’s hand slides around the curve of his hipbone and down to his cock, achingly hard from all the neglection. That’s all it takes. Everything in Dazai locks. Chuuya stays buried inside him, only keeping a grinding pressure right against his prostate as he strokes him to completion, and Dazai comes with a violent, broken nose. Chuuya’s hand fills with come, some of it landing on the towel, and Dazai never really stops gasping. 

It takes a decent amount of time before the muscles around Chuuya’s cock loosen, and a whole new fight starts. 

“N-not enough,” Dazai whines into the sheets, shaking his head and trying to move back but failing miserably, “not enough, not enough – need more –” 

If he wants more, then he’ll get more. 

Chuuya hoists him up from the bed and pulls him down on his lap and straight down on his dick. It’s a little awkward what with their height difference and all and with the ropes, but Dazai all but sinks down and back into him, head tossing back as Chuuya continues thrusting into him and giving Chuuya a wonderful stretch of neck and shoulder to kiss. “How’s that for underwhelming?” Chuuya licks a stripe of his neck until his skin trembles, then sets his teeth into it. “That quickly turned into being a greedy slut, huh?” 

Dazai’s thighs twitch around him, muscles jumping with every slam against his prostate. “Hnng! Y-yes!” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Just — yes – I don’t know –” Dazai’s cock is already growing hard, and Chuuya doesn’t go easy on that either, working a furious hand over his length until Dazai’s words dissolve into a stream of torn whimpers. 

Chuuya’s starting to feel himself fall too, that electric, hot coil in his stomach pulling tighter and tighter with each new thrust. His pace quickens first, then starts crumbling apart into a stuttering, spasming rhythm as Dazai comes for a second time, pressing so hard against him, walls clenching so tightly that it feels like he’s squeezing Chuuya’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Chuuya hisses and kisses Dazai’s jaw, trying to get his lips on anything of Dazai’s. He nibbles on his warm and shivery skin as his own release spurts into Dazai’s ass. This time, Dazai shoots into oversensitivity quickly, his legs clamping shut around Chuuya and spasming as he keens. Chuuya’s hand around him slows down but doesn’t leave entirely either. “Feels good?” 

Breathing hard, Dazai nods. 

“Satisfied?” 

Dazai opens his mouth, closes it again, and makes a wretched noise in the back of his throat. “I – I don’t know – too much and not enough – too –” 

“Let me take care of that then.” 

After pressing one more kiss against his neck, Chuuya gently pushes him back on the bed and starts undoing the bonds around him. Years of experience and training have made him quick, skilled, so it takes less than a minute to have Dazai free. Like a pudding, Dazai’s body goes loose and pliant and reaching to the side with one hand, Chuuya turns him on his back. 

Dazai’s desperate, shell-shocked face shatters into a crystalline storm when Chuuya presses two fingers into him, wearing a vibe around his finger, and aiming for his prostate from the get-go, not giving him a moment of rest. “Chuu – a h .” Dazai’s back arches off the bed as Chuuya’s fingers fuck into him, and it looks beautiful, he looks so beautiful when he’s falling apart on pleasure. His mouth opens around silent words or screams or means, but all that comes out is something guttural and incomprehensible. 

Chuuya watches, fascinated, as he tears down his wall brick by brick, uncovering the writhing, devastating storm of emotions behind it. The tears gather in his eyes before the noise rips out of him, rolling down his cheeks in fat drops when Dazai’s voice produces one long and high-pitched whimper as the third orgasm rolls over him like a tsunami. 

Chuuya can’t help it, he crawls forward to kiss him. To breathe Dazai’s air when he lets free one broken sob after the other. To pull on his lip when his thighs thrash uncontrollably, going up and down on the bed over and over. To give Dazai Chuuya’s mouth as some sort of grounding to hold onto in the wake of the storm. 

And Dazai? He clings to Chuuya. His hands are shaking but they reach for him anyway, and Chuuya takes them, interlaces their fingers until he can press them down into the mattress as he kisses Dazai through the tremors shaking him, and the tremors do not go easy on him, but judging by how fucked out and deep in subspace Dazai looks right now — peaceful almost — it’s not really a problem.

It takes a long time until Dazai’s body starts to calm down. Chuuya has had his fair share of experiences in bed, with a lot of different partners too, but he’s never quite had something like this. Something like Dazai. So sensitive to every little touch of gentleness after years of being deprived of it. So unsure about what exactly he wants, but being unapologetic about it once he gets it. So — so Dazai. 

Someone Chuuya cares about no matter how many times he cusses him out. 

Their kisses turn slower and breathier until it’s the two of them panting against each other, sharing the same sweat-soaked air. For a while, Chuuya lets it linger. The calm. Dazai’s eyes not really focused on anything as he floats away. A break that was due years ago probably.

It’s Chuuya who eventually breaks the silence. “I won.” His hand lifts and Dazai only refuses to let go of it for a few confusing seconds before Chuuya’s tracing the wet marks on his face. 

“What did you want again?” Dazai asks, his voice raw and hoarse and quiet. 

“You.” 

Dazai’s lashes flutter against his skin. 

“To be my bitch,” Chuuya elaborates in case his brain is still fried and too exhausted to draw basic conclusions. “So I get to do this again. If you want.” 

“You won,” Dazai says dryly, like it is answer enough to the silent question Chuuya asked. 

“You always have a choice with me, Dazai.” 

Dazai says nothing, his lids fluttering and Chuuya takes it for what it is. The end of that conversation. Although he’s positive it’s not the end of that topic. 

For once in his life he’s thankful that Dazai doesn’t offer to do anything but lie there like the royalty that he is and watch Chuuya fuss over him. Dazai all too easily slides under the sheets after Chuuya wipes him clean. He’ll have to take a shower later — they both do — but for now, in that peaceful afterglow of being thoroughly, deeply satisfied, Chuuya thinks it’s okay to laze around for an hour or two. It’s not like they get to do that all that often. He crawls under the same sheets, and doesn’t leave as much space as usual between them, knowing that a subdrop could turn uglier than necessary if Chuuya doesn’t take care of him right now. Dazai doesn’t complain. With several bags of candy and food that Chuuya left in his room the day before — with this exact outcome in mind — he turns on the TV on the wall and finds the sappiest, sad movie on the list. (It’s Titanic. Sue him.) When Chuuya wordlessly slides his leg against Dazai’s, then tangles it with his, Dazai only sighs loudly. And when the Titanic starts sinking into the water as Jack and Rose refuse to let go of each other, and Chuuya has tears rolling down his cheeks as he watches it, he thinks he feels Dazai even smile a little.

“You’re still too sensitive.” 

“I am not.”