Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chuuya had a handful of ideas of what sex with Dazai would be like. Banter, a back-and-forth struggle for control, and constant annoying quips at Chuuya for a range of things including but not limited to his height. They had okay chemistry with each other, which Chuuya loathed admitting, but ultimately Chuuya suspected that Dazai would do everything possible to keep a grip on everything that happened. Manipulative bastard. Even if Chuuya did manage to take control, he'd probably have to tie him up three times over and still have to hear about how bad his knots were.

He didn't expect this.

Dazai was splayed out on the bed, lips bitten and bruised from what had been a chaotic power struggle. His messy brown hair was scattered around him and his breath came out in quick, jolting puffs accented by the annoyingly pretty flush dancing on the bridge of his nose.

The gem of it all were those wine brown eyes, widened with something like surprise that tasted suspiciously like submission on Chuuya’s tongue. His pupils were blown out with lust, so inky and glassy next to the rich irises that Chuuya could nearly see his reflection.

The bandages over his left eye had already been lost, an earlier casualty that ultimately spurred this situation on. Chuuya already knew Dazai was mostly blind in that eye (it took two years for the idiot to say anything about it), and with him so visibly dizzy from lust he felt a little spike of concern for the glassy quality to his eyes. It was pretty, but the still, searching quality to it made something in him twist with nerves.

It was almost as though the second Chuuya pushed him onto his back, the fight had left Dazai, leaving a confused and broken mess. At the same time, it stroked his ego, having those eyes look up at him like he was being worshipped. He knew there was a chance he'd win their back-and-forth fight for dominance, but only now was Chuuya considering that he might get to fuck Dazai. Still, that expression rubbed him weirdly.

He couldn't decide if Dazai wanted concern or the continuation of that raw, animalistic energy surging between them.

He decided to give a little bit of both.

“Oi, fish-for-brains,” Chuuya pinched the tender inside of Dazai’s wrist, prompting a twitch. Those eyes, not nearly as empty as Chuuya was used to seeing them, finally focused enough that he could see a little shimmer of light gleam over them. It made him swallow. Fuck, this was still so hot. “You good?”

The words didn't come out as harsh as he wanted, but the question seemed to startle something out of Dazai, like it was the last thing he expected to hear at that moment. Then, in a flurry of movement, bandaged arms were winding around Chuuya's neck, pulling him down.

“Yes,” Dazai finally gasped against his lips, no longer trying to flip them around. He didn't really kiss Chuuya, only settled for the simple touch of skin on skin. “Hatrack, chibi, Chuuya, hurry up or I'm leaving.”

His arms were shaking. Chuuya could feel it around his neck. Something was clearly going on with Dazai right now, but Chuuya already felt a little too addicted to having a man, a control freak, a psychopathic disaster of a human like Dazai underneath him. He decided whatever this was could wait another day to unpack as he surged forward with a dark, rolling kiss.

Chuuya bit down on Dazai’s lips again, not as a warning or a fight like earlier, but just because he could. Because for once in his gods-forsaken life, Dazai wasn't putting up the fight he expected. He was rewarded for it with Dazai's shaking, punched-out little sigh that sparked a little fire in his gut.

For a dark, curious second, Chuuya wondered if Dazai was a virgin. They were eighteen so it wasn't impossible. Dazai was shockingly not an indulgent person considering Chuuya had been the first one to get him to try ice cream of all things. If he wouldn't indulge in simple pleasures like sugar without some kind of pressure then there wasn't any reason why sex would be any different.

The still, confused demeanor offered to Chuuya made a bit more sense, then. Dazai was the same way with other firsts that Chuuya didn't care to think about for long.

Chuuya pushed Dazai further into the sheets quickly, holding his forearms down now while he settled over his pliant body. Once satisfied that Dazai wasn't going to move for now- not that he'd been putting much effort into trying- Chuuya pulled his shirt over his head before turning back to tug at Dazai’s.

“Sit up,” Chuuya ordered with a quick tap, sitting back and enjoying the confused little grind of those bony hips at the feeling of Chuuya's weight settling over them.

Dazai didn't move for a long moment, still staring with those glassy eyes and open expression. For once Chuuya wished that he'd go back to his thickly layered mask, only because this Dazai was so easy to read that Chuuya couldn't tell a damn thing (his throat clenched a little at the thought that he only ever learned how to read fake emotions on this man, that this might be the most honest he's ever seen him). His eyebrows scrunched together the longer it took for Dazai to react and he settled a hand over the thin hip, rubbing circles into it with his thumb before he opened his mouth to speak.

The touch seemed to startle something out of Dazai, because he simultaneously leaned into it and leaned up. His fingers clumsily and quickly made work out of his shirt buttons like he was possessed. He did it in a way that seemed almost panicked, the notion supported by his shaky, quick breaths.

Chuuya huffed an amused breath. “Wow, mackerel. Didn't think you'd be this easy.”

The words flowed out of him like a river now that he'd said something. Chuuya didn't want to say everything, like how he never realized how much the pretty wine-brown of Dazai's eyes resembled his favorite bottle sitting in his cupboard, or how he’d always wanted to mark up the few slivers of alabaster skin now on full display for him in between bandages, or how the little whine that escaped him was the best sound he'd heard in his life. Dazai's ego, no matter how much of a virgin he very likely was, didn't need that kind of stroking. This much was fine, though.

Chuuya didn't want to do anything more to risk stopping the surprising compliance he was receiving. Giving Dazai an inch would only encourage him to take a mile.

Dazai's body wracked with a nearly imperceptible quiver that Chuuya only noticed because he was seated on his hips like they were his throne. It wasn't exactly a good quiver, he noticed dimly. Dazai's eyes were cloudy with a different emotion that fizzled out into nothing a second after he noticed it. He would've missed it in his lust-addled brain if he hadn't been staring at Dazai.

Chuuya rocked back without purpose or thought behind the motion, but froze once he did. Dazai let out another punched-out little moan that disrupted his finger's path down his shirt. Chuuya didn’t deign to acknowledge it because-

Dazai wasn't even hard.

Chuuya was out here, burning alive with lust, and only now feeling ridiculous at the sudden tidbit he just now noticed.

Suddenly those glassy eyes weren't as satisfying as before.

Something was wrong.

He was under the impression that they were on the same page until now, only to find out they weren't even close. And for whatever reason, instead of pitching a fit to end all tantrums, Dazai was just lying there.

It made Chuuya feel a little sick, and ridiculously like he was forcing something on his partner.

He swung his leg back over Dazai’s hips and leaned away from him with a heavy sigh, avoiding Dazai’s searching hands and blatant, wide-eyed confusion dashing across his face.

“What,” the other man swallowed, shaking his head a little to get a few brown curls out of his face. It was kind of cute. “What’s wrong?”

Chuuya, feeling like being a little mean now despite knowing it wasn't exactly his partner's fault, brushed a finger over the front of Dazai's slacks, trying and failing to ignore the pretty little bow his spine made at the sensation. “This. You're not even hard,” he rubbed his eye tiredly. “If you don't want to do this, just say so, fucking idiot.”

Dazai was already shaking his head, breath quickening a little more and bordering on hyperventilating. “No, no I am, I want to, Chuuya.”

There was a thick desperation to the way he said Chuuya's name, a pleading prayer that Chuuya was a little ashamed to say did nothing to help his erection go down. The thought that Dazai hadn't gotten any substantial pleasure from his touch had doused his mood, but Dazai's begging stirred the embers strongly.

He should stop this right now. Whatever Dazai thought was happening, whatever he thought Chuuya would do, wasn’t going to happen. It shouldn’t. Chuuya liked when his partners felt just as good as him, and this wasn’t it.

Dazai, for whatever reason, wasn’t into this.

Even though he clearly thought he was.

Bandaged fingers tugged a little at Chuuya’s sleeve, those wide eyes begging him to stay and stoke the flames between them higher. He snarled a little.

“What is it then?” Chuuya demanded bitingly, leaning a little more over Dazai than before but still on the edge of the bed. “Do you need more attention here?”

The heel of his palm ground into Dazai’s dick through his slacks with little sympathy.

“Ah, ah,” Dazai's mouth parted in a shaking moan, “I, hah, Chuuya- a-hah-”

Still, beyond a twitch and the beginning of hardness, Dazai's body had little reaction to the stimulation. His eyes were still wrong.

Chuuya frowned. Dazai's shirt was still left open, revealing swathes of bandages. Feeling merciful on behalf of his curiosity to see what would make his partner fall apart at his hands, he lifted away the heel of his palm.

Intense stimulation didn't do much. Neither did pushing him down and taking control wherever he could grip onto it. Chuuya should still leave, but there was a sickening temptation curling in his gut.

Well, it was a little more intimate than he wanted tonight to be, but…

Chuuya tapped Dazai’s hip. “Turn on your side.”

There was a long moment where Dazai searched Chuuya's eyes, but didn't bother looking as deep as he usually did. The painful openness struck Chuuya deep again, wrapping around his heart and squeezing when Dazai turned over, leaving his back open to Chuuya. It was the most blatant show of trust he'd ever gotten from Dazai.

It was a good thing that, at least for tonight, Chuuya wasn't planning on betraying it. Quickly, he took off his pants and tossed them somewhere in the room, recognizing the shiver that ran through Dazai's body at the sound of his zipper.

He swept his legs back onto the bed and settled in with his chest to Dazai's back, curling around him intimately but angling his own erection away for now. Like this, he could feel every intake of breath.

“This okay?” He murmured into a thin strip of pale skin not quite concealed by bandages, pressing his lips against the back of his partner's neck.

Dazai nodded a little bit, but he was curling away from Chuuya in a way that contradicted his consent. Chuuya's arms snaked around his body and tugged him back in, not particularly forcefully, but Chuuya had always been the stronger of the two. Dazai was so thin that it wasn't exactly difficult to pull him closer or pick him up. He was careful not to cage him in; despite their earlier setback Chuuya wasn't exactly itching to get this over with. Sometimes Dazai could be like a skittish cat that would run at the most random things.

“Gonna need an answer, mackerel,” Chuuya chided, pressing another kiss into that bit of unconcealed skin. This time, Dazai leaned the tiniest bit into it, almost involuntarily. Normally he would accept this as a sign to keep going, but he couldn't see Dazai's face from this position, and with the odd mood that was sweeping his partner he didn't feel comfortable with only physical cues.

“...” Dazai's feet shuffled against the sheets. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Chuuya, feeling a little obsessed, kept going, brushing his lips over the small bit of skin offered to him. The majority of Dazai's body was covered in bandages, so normally Chuuya's gloved hands wouldn't even get a glimpse of what Dazai's hands felt like. Chuuya ditched the gloves for tonight but Dazai's bandages were still swathed over his body. 

If Dazai asked him not to, Chuuya wouldn't keep working his lips over the patch of skin, but the little, subconsciously insistent way he was pressing back into the touch told him it was fine. He was going for verbal communication tonight, but addressing the skin thing might ruin everything.

Still, he pulled away for a moment to gauge the rest of his body’s reactions. Pressed together like this, Chuuya could feel every single shiver, flinch, or expression of pleasure Dazai might have.

His eyes roved greedily over the long, slender body, the pretty dips and unfortunate poke of bones he could see. It was only thanks to his observation that he noticed Dazai's red ears, signifying the- embarrassment? Arousal?- his partner was feeling.

Chuuya, feeling a little dizzy now, moved the arm that had been slung over Dazai's body. He slowly dragged his fingers up his torso, dancing over bandaged skin. Even through bandages, he figured that Dazai would be able to feel this.

“Hah, Chuuya,” Dazai gasped, flinching further into Chuuya's chest where it was pressed against his back. Chuuya's fingers chased the motion, still rubbing small circles over his nipple. “Ngh.”

The sensation couldn't be as tingling-good as Chuuya knew it was on bare skin, but Dazai's reaction assured him that even this was a lot. His skin probably didn't receive much sexual or platonic skin-on-skin contact what with his obsession over hiding it.

Gods, he loved hearing his name on his idiot’s lips.

“Does that feel good?” Chuuya asked, trying to keep the smugness out of his tone but probably not doing a great job of it.

Still, Dazai's submissive mood hadn't faded even though the weird, catatonic state of it had. He didn't throw back any snarky quips, only buried the side of his face into the pillow under it. “Yeah,” he answered, panting a little already.

It was almost hotter than his moans from when Chuuya had touched his flaccid dick. It was more rewarding, in a way.

He couldn't help himself, rubbing his hands over Dazai's torso. He didn't touch the uncovered skin of his collarbones, the only part of his body that Dazai couldn't easily cover. It felt like a violation of trust. This night was supposed to be good for both of them, and that would only happen if Chuuya kept Dazai just as pliant and relaxed as he was now. His hands worked over Dazai's side with a soothing quality to the touch that Chuuya would deny till the end of his days.

It was hard to keep his hands to himself no matter how much he doubted every action, wondering if it was too much. It was so rare that he got to touch Dazai like this that he couldn't help himself. His partner was willing to be at his mercy for however long they were here.

Dazai was still letting out perfect little sighs and hums at every motion, sinking back into Chuuya with every touch like he was hypnotized. He almost wondered if this was a tactic he could use to make the idiot sleep for once. But that wasn't the goal for tonight, so Chuuya made sure to let his hands drift up to his nipples every once in a while to kindle that spark again and draw out another keening moan.

In the end, Chuuya slipped. He found that he was willing to press his hand a little too close to the burning sun that was Dazai just to see how far he could get.

“Still good?”

“Mmh,” Dazai nodded, arching into the fingers curling over his chest. “Ungh, yes.”

Chuuya smirked, half of him wanting to let the night continue like this but the other half wanting to know just how far he could push Dazai.

“It feels even better without these,” he commented blandly, fingering the edge of a bandage.

Dazai froze. His body, which had been sinking into Chuuya, became a rigid line that pulled away from his hands. His shoulders were hunched, concealing the sliver of exposed skin at his neck with his hair when he ducked his head.

Chuuya realized that he probably should've kept his mouth shut.

“You don't have to,” he amended, resting his hand on Dazai's hip and cursing himself when he flinched at the touch.

He probably ruined the night for himself.

For a long minute, they sat there in silence, Chuuya's unease growing with every passing second. He really fucked up. His hand tensed and started lifting away from Dazai's hip.

“...you can.”

Chuuya's head lifted in surprise, jolting from the sound. His hand settled back on his partner's hip reflexively.

“What?”

For the first time in a while that night, Dazai's head turned to meet Chuuya, those wine brown eyes warm with anxiety and trust.

“...the bandages,” he said, just as quiet but more resolutely than before. “You can take them off. If Chuuya wants to.”

Chuuya swallowed a little too obviously, but for once the flicker of amusement dancing in those normally cold but suddenly, achingly warm eyes made him feel secure instead of annoyed.

“Do you want to?” He asked instead, keeping his hand unmoving on Dazai's body. Chuuya felt feverish with the need to hear Dazai say he wanted this. The confirmation, the explicit consent, wasn't something he'd ever been so insistent on (maybe because the few other people he'd taken to bed weren't as fucked up as Dazai and were clear about it when they were into something), but with Dazai it somehow made everything so much better.

“...duh,” Dazai said, but he ducked his head with embarrassment.

Chuuya smiled sharply, hand under Dazai's chin and turning his head towards him. “Then say it.”

Those pretty brown eyes widened minutely. Chuuya wondered if that was too much, not yet fully grasping what Dazai was letting him do. Dazai was very particular about his bandages, so the fact that he was letting Chuuya see him without them, and was even letting Chuuya himself remove them, was probably the best and hottest thing he would ever experience in his life.

But he wanted to hear him ask for it.

Because Chuuya didn't know how to stop while he was ahead.

Because Chuuya wanted to push Dazai into a perfect role of trust, because while he didn't want to admit it, he was already planning on repeating this again and again if Dazai would let him. So he needed to sear this memory into his partner's genius fucking brain, every gram of pleasure etched into his skin.

Chuuya needed Dazai to want him more than he'd ever want anyone else. Physically- or even emotionally if this didn't pan out how he expected. Preferably both. As much as he could get to leash Dazai to his side with.

The air that escaped Dazai trembled, but after licking his lips, he made eye contact again. “I… Chuuya, please.”

“Please what?”

Dazai kicked at Chuuya, pushing his foot into the ginger’s behind him. Chuuya just threw his leg over both of Dazai's, locking them in place with his calf.

“What do you want?” Chuuya asked again, watching intently for the moment the indignation fled those brown eyes completely.

It didn't take long.

Dazai really was so godsdamned submissive like this. It almost made Chuuya feel guilty for pushing him.

“Please take them off,” he finally whispered.

Almost.

Without another word, Chuuya hooked a finger under the tucked end of the bandages around his neck, figuring it would be best to start there. Dazai was the most cagey about his arms, so that would come later.

Chuuya leaned further over Dazai to press a deep, possessive kiss over his lips. His partner softened into it, relaxing a bit more even as swathes of white fell away from him to be tossed off the bed for later. Chuuya's lips trailed away to kiss a line down his jaw, relishing in the breathy moans awarded for his efforts, pressing a few kisses just under his jawline before he pulled away to look.

It was so much better than the small inch of skin he'd laved over earlier. Stretches of pale skin were on display, revealing the elegantly long neck normally hidden away. There were scars- more than a few too many but none too surprising. Dazai had been in the mafia for longer than Chuuya, and anyone could tell just by looking at him that Dazai didn't have much in the way of a childhood.

Jagged lines, neat slices, starburst puckers of white. There was one that dragged over the horizontal length of his throat, making Chuuya wonder if someone tried to slit it. Maybe it was Dazai's own handiwork. Dazai's neck was a little paler than his face, which did make sense but Chuuya still marveled at the evidence that his partner could tan.

Unable to help himself, Chuuya slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against the expanse of skin. Dazai immediately shivered, his body rocking away and then back towards Chuuya like he couldn’t decide whether his touch-sensitive skin wanted more or less.

Both wanting to overstimulate his partner and wanting to be merciful all at once, Chuuya latched on, starting to lick and nip lightly at the skin at his pulse point. His partner gasped loudly at the sudden and unexpected sensation. Chuuya’s nose scrunched a bit. Dazai’s bandages were, to no one’s surprise, a constant in his life and not redone nearly as often as they should be. His skin was salty underneath, not unclean but not the most pleasant thing in the world. He noted in the back of his mind to not let Dazai convince him to sleep after this; he was going to make his partner get in a bath for both of their sakes even if it killed him.

He made his way down the column of Dazai’s neck slowly, taking the time to lavish every bit of skin he could without leaving marks. Dazai’s impatient little huffs were starting to build now, but Chuuya paid little attention to it. He was struck with the urge to mark up the pale skin.

“Are hickeys okay?” Chuuya murmured, face still tilted into Dazai’s skin, his lips moving against him with every word.

“Mmh, yeah, it’s fine,” Dazai spoke, sounding breathless. It made Chuuya smirk against his skin, but Dazai seemed to recover himself for a second at the sensation. “Chuuya can go back to slobbering on my neck like a dog- hngh- hah-”

Chuuya wasted no time in sucking hickeys into Dazai’s neck, replacing white lines of scars with purpling bruises. He kept going, laving over every inch of sensitive skin until Dazai was squirming from pleasure. His trail continued down to bony collarbones, where he was a little more thoughtful and gentle with his marks. Chuuya himself knew that while his tolerance for it was unfortunately rather high, Dazai wasn’t a fan of pain, and even on healthy people collar bones could be a bit sensitive when it came to marks. He nibbled gently over the protruding bones, noting again that he’d probably need to feed Dazai after this and in the morning otherwise the dumbass would go even longer without eating than he already had.

Finally, he reached the edge of the bandages over Dazai’s torso. Rather than untying the bandages then and there, he went back upwards to kiss his partner again, licking into his mouth and reveling in the panting, overstimulated and desperate participation Dazai showed. While their lips were occupied, he helped Dazai out of the arms of his now wrinkled white button-up and tossed it away. Now unbidden by fabric, his hands trailed over the bandaged torso, increasing the pressure until he was firmly running his hands over the covered skin.

Dazai reached up to tug his hands towards the tucked edge of bandages just under his right armpit. Chuuya broke apart their lips to stare in muted wonder, but didn’t let the moment die away. He tapped Dazai’s shoulder, indicating for him to sit up. Dazai slowly lifted himself up after he took a deep, settling breath. Chuuya kissed up his neck once he was fully seated upwards, a gentle and slow press of lips on skin that ended with him connecting their lips one more time in a closed mouth, comforting sensation.  He didn’t mean for anything about the situation to be so soft, and yet…

There was something more in the air when Chuuya began to unwrap the bandages.

Somehow, the intimacy from their earlier position paled in comparison to this. He lusted after every inch of pale and deeply scarred skin, but it was tinted with a gentle, awed reverence that softened the moment unexpectedly. He moved from his torso to his arms right after when he was given a small, downturned nod; the only one he’d take as an answer that night.

Every scar was stark and prominent even against alabaster skin. Some laid flat, some made small divots in his skin, and even more were raised and puckered. Chuuya recognized some of them; he’d even been the one to stop a few of them from killing the man. He’d seen some parts of Dazai’s skin, but only through gaps in bandages and only when it was bloodied with gunshot or knife wounds. 

It was one thing to see it while trying to stop his partner from bleeding out, it was another entirely to see the aftermath. 

His arms were worse. If Dazai’s torso was a landscape of survived missions and near-death escapades, his arms were a gallery dedicated to his own struggles. They were decorated morbidly with neat lines on the insides of his wrists that carved their way up to his upper arm. Some of the lines were longer, but the ones over his arteries were the deepest and messiest, like they’d been made impulsively rather than methodically. There was a difference in the way some of them looked, like they’d been made by different people, but that could be chalked up to Dazai’s mental state. They seemed older than Chuuya thought they’d be. None of them looked to be newer than two months at least.

He wanted to touch every single blemish and memorize the way it looked. He wanted to know if there were any new additions just by glancing at the skin no matter how long they were apart. Chuuya wanted to be acquainted with every single inch of skin more than he was with his own.

He didn’t like the scars, but he felt severely tempted by the idea of knowing every speck of Dazai’s skin better than the man himself.

Chuuya wanted everything.

“It’s ugly, right?”

Chuuya’s eyes, pupils blown wide with sudden, keening lust for his partner, stared at the hunched man. His eyes were turned down and lips curled up in something resembling deprecatingly amused shame.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  

Dazai’s shoulders shook the tiniest bit, but Chuuya didn’t let his stupid, genius mind run him down another idiotic trail of thought. He surged forward, needing lips on his again, well and truly addicted to the feeling of Dazai’s mouth after only half a night. Chuuya’s hands roved unbidden over every divot of skin, tracing every crevice with feverish need. They hadn’t done anything inherently sexual in a while to push the night along, but Chuuya was just as hard as he was at Dazai’s first shaking moan.

Chuuya, still sensing Dazai’s confusion, huffed as he pulled away for a minute, waiting for wine brown eyes to look at him again. When they did, he pulled Dazai’s hand, previously clenched in the black duvet, towards the front of his boxers, stifling a groan at the slight touch. Dazai’s eyes widened in front of Chuuya’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Chuuya snorted derisively. “You’re hot, idiot. Still just as annoyingly attractive, so don’t worry about that.”

It was only when Chuuya let Dazai’s hand go to continue perusing the frankly gorgeous expanse of skin (he’d never tell Dazai as such) that he brushed against the front of Dazai’s slacks again. He’d been so caught up in lavishing the revealed skin in touch that he forgot about their earlier predicament.

Which, apparently, had solved itself.

Dazai was just as hard as Chuuya now, the pretty cloudiness in his eyes now easily identified as lust.

When did that happen?

Suddenly bolstered by the knowledge that Dazai was getting just as much pleasure from this as Chuuya now (a well-deserved ego boost if he had to say so himself), his eyes roved over Dazai. What did it? Was it the slowness? The touch? The removal of the bandages? The hickeys? The intimacy?

So caught up in the moment, Chuuya had forgotten to take note of what got Dazai sexually interested in their activities. He’d taken his time, much longer than he ever meant to or ever had before, and it had evidently paid off but Chuuya still cursed himself for not paying attention to what about this actually got Dazai off.

He moved his face down to Dazai’s nipples and licked a broad stripe over the left areola. Dazai audibly choked on air, but this time Chuuya was paying attention to every scrap of reaction he could get. Another broad stripe didn’t evoke the same level of reaction, so he swirled his tongue around it instead.

“Chu- uya, hm, ah,” Dazai moaned quietly, hitches of breath that corresponded with every swirl of his tongue. Chuuya’s eyes gazed upwards at his face, watching closely as he sealed his lips and gave a gentle suck. “Hn! I, ah, hm! Please,” Dazai breathed, his body jolting a bit at the sensation. The reaction was repeated when Chuuya’s right hand joined his mouth in stimulating his other nipple generously. When he pinched, it startled a short, jutting thrust of his hips.

Chuuya knew some guys had sensitive nipples; changing rooms and public baths told him enough from bandaids over the area to prevent chafing. Chuuya himself sometimes felt a bit more sensitive than usual, but the lack of stimulus plus it apparently being a naturally erogenous zone for Dazai resulted in this addicting scene that only Chuuya would ever be able to indulge in if he had his way tonight.

A quick, surveying swipe of his hand over Dazai’s pants confirmed that it was definitely good for the other teen. Chuuya, feeling a little more impatient now too, unfastened the button of his slacks but stopped there.

“Can I?” He asked shortly.

Dazai didn’t bother answering him directly, reaching to unzip his own pants and kicking them off impatiently. “Chuuya is so slow,” he teased, sounding more like Dazai than earlier. He was still just as compliant and easy, but he’d relaxed enough that Chuuya felt confident that this was trust, not a mask.

“Shut up,” Chuuya tossed back lightly, knowing he probably looked a little more fond than he preferred, but not caring nearly enough in the face of blatant honesty from Dazai of all people. It filled his chest with something warm and too affectionate for his liking.

He remedied the soft moment by settling his hand over Dazai’s dick while he leaned back in to suck his right nipple, leaving his other hand to pinch lightly over the left. Dazai moaned loudly, hips stuttering into the light caress of the warm touch over his dick while he arched into the touch on his chest. His breath quickened into a paced, shaking mess.

Overstimulation really was rather pretty on some people, Chuuya smirked. He’d had this done to him before, after all, by a particularly sadistic one night stand he’d had a few months prior. It took him a lot longer to get to this point, where the barely-there touch on his dick wasn’t enough to come, but the sensations on his chest insisted otherwise. Chuuya couldn’t cum on it, though he’d gotten close, but with how quickly Dazai was there, he had to wonder.

It wasn’t like Dazai knew whether he could or not. His virgin theory definitely held some merit. Obviously, he had to have masturbated before, but Chuuya could definitely tell that this clumsy canting and desperation and lack of struggle for control once his back hit the sheets wasn’t the result of any kind of real sexual experience. The catatonic passiveness from earlier must’ve been some kind of nerves.

Whatever it was, Chuuya wasn’t interested in having Dazai tap out after coming like this, so he took his hand away and lightened his work over the puffy, reddened nipples to nothing before pulling away, drawing out a long, desperate whine. Another day, when he wasn’t quite so impatient and felt mean enough, he’d blow cool air over his spit-slick, puffy nipples until they ached and Dazai was whining for anything else.

Not today, though.

…

Gods, it was a tempting thought.

But he'd already drawn things out for long enough that his erection was starting to get uncomfortable. It was so easy to derail his plans with Dazai, especially at the tantalizing thought that he might be the first to draw out so much vulnerability. Chuuya wasn’t one to idealize virginity; it hardly mattered to him either way, especially at their age. It was the emotional reactions being drawn out that he wanted to covet for himself.

With a few kisses of finality pressed down the line of Dazai’s stomach (he knew kissing his partner so much implied uncomfortable, emotional things about his feelings, but the desire hissed at him every time he thought about leaving an inch of skin untouched by his mouth), Chuuya brushed his fingers along the waistband of black boxers. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

With one more quick confirmation glance up at Dazai, he peeled the fabric away.

Dazai’s dick was pretty. Pale, smoother than it was excessively ridged, with a nice pinkened hardness to it. The wet precome drooling from the head was obscene in all of the best ways and Chuuya didn’t dare deny himself the opportunity to lick the tip just to get a taste. Dazai’s hips jolted another time in response, but Chuuya pushed him back down just as easily.

Rather than put more attention on the dick in front of him, Chuuya’s eyes drew themselves toward his thighs. With little fanfare, he tugged at the bandages covering both legs, grinning up at Dazai’s ever-watchful eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he pushed Dazai’s leg up until it was nearly folded against his scarred stomach.

“You’re lucky I’m flexible enough,” Dazai murmured quietly, faking disgruntlement that tasted sweet on Chuuya’s tongue when he leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered once he pulled back, unraveling bandages on both legs, waiting until they were off before he presented either with affection. The bandages went down to his ankles like the true bandage waster he was. At some point, he’d manipulated Chuuya into buying extra rolls each week along with his usual shopping, which was absolutely ridiculous.

(Not that he’d ever asked, or brought it up. Chuuya caught him reusing bandages once and the thought of his partner sitting in the infirmary with an infection made him take steps to ensure he would never have to see the pitiful sight again.)

After a moment’s introspection, Chuuya shrugged a bit to himself and leaned back while pushing Dazai’s left leg further into himself, relishing in the little yelp of indignation. He pressed his lips to the soft inner skin of Dazai’s knee. It was just as scarred as the rest of him, neat lines intermingling with pucked and twisted scars from their occupation.

He kissed his way up each scar, memorizing the shape and size of each along with the texture on his lips. Chuuya, just to tease, paid extra attention to the insides of Dazai’s thighs and his hipbones just to hear the startled pleasured moan accompanied by reflexive twitches.

A jagged line, a thin slice, a-

Huh?

Chuuya leaned back a bit and pushed Dazai’s thigh a little further up. Bullet wounds? It couldn’t be.

His head rushed with something cold and heavy when he finally saw what he'd felt under his tongue.

Eleven scars.

Six on top, five on bottom.

Deeper indents on the outer scars from the upper row.

Neat, uniform, and square in a slight curve.

Those were human teeth marks permanently etched into Dazai Osamu’s skin.

Fuck.

“Hey.”

The glassy expression.

“Chuuya?”

The hyperventilating.

“What is it?”

The catatonic behavior, like he was a doll with cut strings.

“...Chuuya?”

The difficulty in finding pleasure in their earlier acts.

Chuuya realized with a sharp intake that Dazai's behavior made sense. Sex had been done to Dazai in the same way a hurricane is done to a town. He hadn't learned how to use it to manipulate, only that his role was to hunker down and weather the storm until it was over because he knew it would mean the other person wouldn't hurt him.

Had Dazai been scared the whole time?

Was Chuuya just making him relive trauma?

Who could have-

Chuuya's eyes flickered with a dark, broiling red.

Who.

Who touched Dazai like that?

Chuuya felt sick, but his anger overtook every other emotion.

“Chuuya!” Dazai raised his voice, his hands clasping onto Chuuya’s forearms.

For the Tainted Sorrow flickered out in a split second just as Chuuya realized it had activated. He blinked, seeing the blue of his eyes reflected in Dazai’s dark irises.

“Dazai,” Chuuya swallowed, choking down his festering anger for the moment. “Who… who hurt you?”

Dazai just blinked, like that was the last question he expected. “Do… do you want a list?” He gestured to his body.

His hands met Dazai’s and pushed them from his forearms, rubbing up and down the length of his torso. “No, I… yes, but not now. This,” he brushed against the scar, though Dazai clearly couldn’t see it, might not even know it was there, but by the way his expression shuttered a second later, Chuuya had jogged his memory. “It’s a bite mark. Am I… Is this not-"

Dazai shook his head quickly. “I, no, Chuuya, I want to. I want you.” He shuddered but kept talking even though it looked painful. “That was… it wasn’t recent.”

That basically made it worse, Chuuya wanted to scream. They were only eighteen. That was a scar, an old one. Years old, at least. How old was he? Who did that to him? Mori-san had to know since he was his doctor for years from what Chuuya had gathered. If he asked, would his boss answer? Mori-san wasn’t unreasonable, if not a bit hard on Dazai in particular. He wouldn’t be too rough just for asking an unsavory question.

Dazai wasn't weak. Chuuya knew that. He'd heard rumors that Dazai had been considered talented in the mafia since the moment he stepped into their territory. There's no way he would've let someone do that. It narrowed down suspects, but Chuuya couldn’t think of anyone strong enough in the mafia who spent enough time around Dazai to get away with something like that.

But… there was one person…

Mori-san had been with Dazai for years. Dazai had had the scar for years. Only one person in the mafia had regular access and control over his partner, and there was only one office Dazai spent an odd amount of time in, and gods Chuuya did not like the destination his thoughts were arriving at-

An arm looped around his neck and tugged him in. Chuuya, still lost in thought, jolted back to awareness at the sensation of lips on his. He tried to pull away the slightest bit, but Dazai’s tongue clumsily licked into his mouth, hesitant and uncoordinated but learning. Eager.

Chuuya could read between the lines.

Sympathy was not on the table tonight.

“Yeah?” He rasped out one more time against his partner’s lips, a single, deep question that promised a conversation for later.

Dazai sighed into his mouth, resigning and breathless all at once. “Yeah.”

Their kiss was more possessive than before. Despite his short-lived and still festering reservations, Chuuya quickly took control again, using his weight to push Dazai’s legs against his stomach. He was glad they were close to the edge of the bed, because it took only a second of fumbling to grasp the lube. Chuuya strategically kept Dazai distracted, running his hands over his naked body again. He dug his fingers into the dips of his spine when he reached around to his back, then again into the small amount of fat he had on his hips, hard enough to leave light bruises. Maybe not the smartest thing he could’ve done, but Chuuya didn’t want to look at Dazai’s body and see anything but the evidence of tonight.

Something in him that knew Dazai inside and out even better than before figured that Dazai wanted that too.

“Chuuya,” Dazai gasped when his dick brushed against Chuuya’s. He answered with a groan and the opening of a cap.

This wasn't about the past, but Chuuya would be damned if Dazai had any other word on his tongue than his name by the time they were done.

He dribbled a bit of lube onto his fingers and let it warm up while he went back to brushing his fingers over Dazai’s nipples, pinching at the nubs until he was whining into Chuuya’s mouth. His other hand, satisfied with the temperature of the lube now, brushed slick fingers just above Dazai’s cock. They skirted around the base, all teasing and light touches.

“Hah, mmh,” Dazai looked like he was melting when their lips parted from a particularly sporadic reaction, both leaning into and away from the touch raining down on him. Chuuya, eyes on his partner, finally put his hand over his cock and stroked upwards, greedily taking in every reaction.

It was the first time any substantial, racing pleasure had been given that night, and Chuuya felt mesmerized by the immediate groan it elicited from those kiss-swollen and bitten lips. Already he could feel Dazai’s cock twitching in his hand.

He couldn’t blame him; this much build up had Chuuya fighting to keep from touching himself in tandem with those pretty moans. He couldn’t imagine how quickly the long, painstakingly slow rise to this point would’ve made him go over.

“Chuuya, Chuuya, I’m-” Dazai’s back arched on a particularly pleasurable stroke.

“Hm?” Chuuya hummed amusedly, still watching every reaction that flitted across Dazai’s face. He wanted to memorize every indication of pleasure so that he knew exactly how to make his partner fall apart.

“Close,” he keened.

On one hand, Chuuya desperately wanted to have Dazai cum on his dick. What if he tapped out after one orgasm? On the other hand, as long as Dazai consented to continuing, Chuuya could always make him cum again.

He just had to make sure he didn’t let the fire die down too quickly. If he could convince Dazai that more was better and the overstimulation was good, then there was no reason not to watch him fall over the edge this time.

Dazai seemed to like the excessive stimulation from earlier anyway.

Chuuya wondered distantly when he got so manipulative. He was sure Dazai would’ve gotten up and left earlier if he really didn’t want to do this, regardless of his past experience with sex, but he really seemed to bring the worst out of Chuuya.

(He also wasn’t dumb enough to think that anything he did to Dazai here wouldn’t be returned tenfold the next time they ended up in this situation. Dazai was likely cataloging every second in that big, dumb, genius brain of his to figure out how sex was actually supposed to go so that he replicate it all on Chuuya’s body later. The remaining raw edges of vulnerability that Dazai let stay on display were real, but Dazai’s brain never really shut off even like this. That didn’t mean Chuuya wouldn’t do his best to try.

Chuuya didn't consider that this might be the only time he'd have Dazai in his bed. Now that he knew what vulnerability tasted like on his partner’s skin, he’d never get enough of it.)

Dazai’s mouth opened, parting with every exhale that ended with a moan as the arch of his spine tightened, and tightened.

“Ngh, ah, don’t stop,” he panted, his hands scrambling for purchase and finding only the black duvet beneath them. Chuuya pitied him enough to want to grab his hand in comfort, not having a clue what this experience felt like on Dazai’s end, but he had another plan.

His fingers slicked up with more lube in his left hand while he continued working over the flushed tip of Dazai’s cock with his right. After fumbling with the lube, he tossed it within grabbing distance and dragged his fingers over Dazai’s balls and down, down.

Dazai hadn’t eaten in two days, which was another facet of their earlier argument. Chuuya wasn’t upset now, though. For once Dazai’s unhealthy habits served the purpose of keeping him clean as Chuuya’s finger circled the puckered ring of muscle, enjoying the flutter and loud moan at the contact. Just as Dazai’s moans teetered on a high, whining pitch, he inserted his finger up to the first knuckle.

“Chu-! Ah, ha! Ngh,” Dazai shuddered and twisted through his orgasm, ropes of cum escaping the tip of his cock. His eyes nearly closed, but a sliver of rich, wine brown was visible. His face went slack, mouth still open in a silent, keening moan as he tipped his head back.

Chuuya, not even a full finger deep into Dazai, could feel every pulse in tandem with his orgasm. He couldn’t wait to have him around his dick.

Knowing there was no way Dazai was ready for more sensation after what looked like a pretty euphoric orgasm, Chuuya felt darkly amused when he continued to work his finger inside, jolting one last dribble of cum into drooling down the side of Dazai’s softening cock.

Awareness was slowly seeping back into Dazai’s eyes, significantly less clouded than before but luckily for Chuuya still edging with a pretty, lustful haze. Chuuya surged forward to seal their lips together again, making Dazai taste himself, while he stroked his hand over Dazai’s cock lightly just to feel the- fuck that was hot- hiccuping whine of dissent on his tongue.

There was a questioning hum from Dazai that Chuuya didn’t care to acknowledge verbally. Instead, he continued working his finger in and out, fucking Dazai with what he probably thought was just a strange sensation. Chuuya himself felt pretty fucking weird the first time someone fingered him.

“Hm, Chuuya,” Dazai tried to speak, interrupted by another kiss on his lips that he leaned into while Chuuya was still searching with his finger, prodding around with a single mission. “What-”

Chuuya finally crooked his finger just right.

Dazai’s body spasmed sharply. “Ah!” he flinched away from the sensation, but Chuuya didn’t entertain him. Sealing their lips together, he grounded Dazai’s body with his own while he continued to work his fingers over his prostate. 

It likely wasn’t pleasurable, exactly, especially oversensitive after an orgasm, but Dazai was still teetering towards and away from him, squirming desperately. He probably felt out of control of his own body, an icy-hot dizzying array of sensations making his limbs twitch and shake. The muscle fluttered around his fingers when he worked another one in, delighting in the sharp, high, loud moan of pained, confused pleasure. Dazai didn’t like pain, but Chuuya wanted to make him give this a second to get used to before he tapped out.

Chuuya was trying to get him out of his head, after all. What better way than putting all of the focus on the physical aspects of their arrangement?

“T-too mu- uh- ch,” Dazai whined.

He’d been lavishing attention onto his prostate for only a few minutes, but already Dazai’s cock betrayed him, twitching into half-hardness. It seemed that Chuuya had gotten over the mental block from the beginning of the night, allowing Dazai to succumb to his every whim.

Overstimulation was beautiful on Dazai. His twitching limbs, scrunched brow, sweat-slicked hair, and kiss-bitten lips were amazing to watch. The contrast between alabaster skin and obsidian bedsheets really did him justice, Chuuya thought, not for the first time that night.

He waited until Dazai was a little harder before he dipped his head to take the tip of his cock into his mouth and sucked.

Dazai screamed.

His legs kicked at Chuuya, but his hands finally tangled in ginger strands reflexively, shifting between pushing and pulling for less- more- less- more.

Chuuya was planning on fucking him, but he felt a little tempted to watch Dazai fall over the edge again just like this. Distantly, he knew he’d been dripping precum for a while now, making his own mess on the bed, but it felt like his gratification came second to Dazai’s in that moment.

Dazai seemed to like the overstimulation because he was babbling some combination of Chuuya’s name and something that sounded suspiciously like please. Chuuya could probably make him cum again after this. Even if Dazai couldn’t ejaculate normally again after a third, dry orgasms probably weren’t off the table at this point (Chuuya didn’t think much of anything would be off the table as long as he kept Dazai in this state of overstimulation).

Chuuya began to alternate rubbing his prostate with scissoring his fingers gently. The stretch was probably teetering on the edge of being just as overwhelming as everything else, but Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. Dazai’s mouth parted on another loud moan that disrupted the mindless babbling.

And then he parted his legs wider.

It was so surprising and unexpectedly hot that Chuuya had to take a second, feeling closer to the edge than before just from that single, addictingly gorgeous move. The sight of Dazai spreading his legs shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it was, but it was enough to make Chuuya jump on board with his tentative plan to make Dazai come again before he even got him close to his cock. He needed to see his idiot partner fall apart underneath him as many times as he could.

Dazai was panting loudly, not doing great, probably way too overstimulated for his own good, but still canting his scarred hips. He was so good like this.

He deserved to hear it.

Chuuya took a second to pull off, pressing kisses and laving his tongue over the skin. “Fuck, you’re so good for me,” he said roughly. Dazai clenched down tightly, fucking himself down uncoordinatedly and moaning a little louder, his dick twitching obviously in a clear admission of pleasure.

“Chuuya!”

Of fucking course his idiot had a praise kink. Chuuya should exploit that- he wanted to, and he would, but for now he was busy.

Feeling dizzy with the pressure of his lust, Chuuya went back to focusing on the head of Dazai’s cock, interspersing sucks with calculated swirls over his slit that lined up with his fingers that were now aiming directly for his prostate, abandoning his task of stretching him for now. Dazai’s legs kicked with panicked, wheezing energy as Chuuya stoked the flame higher, higher, higher. He drifted his left hand down to his own dick, working over himself quickly and groaning around the tip, sending vibrations that made Dazai moan loudly again.

He’d only had his hand on himself for a second before he felt close, so worked up that it was distressingly easy to get himself to a delicious, coiling edge.

With his hand jacking himself off and his mouth and fingers working together to bring Dazai close to the edge, it only took a minute before his partner’s legs twitched and faltered, kicking against the sheets for leverage and finding none.

He fell over the edge with another loud wail that would’ve made Chuuya nervous about his neighbors if he weren’t following right behind (they were all mafioso anyway; so what if they knew Chuuya’s partner, the Demon Prodigy, was being fucked well? They should be jealous). The heat stoked to an unbearable degree before snapping. Chuuya coated the duvet beneath him with his release while he swallowed Dazai’s down.

It wasn’t good. Salty, not as bitter as he expected but definitely not the best. It wasn’t unbearable so he willingly swallowed it down, noting to buy pineapples in the future. If he was going to make Dazai eat food, he might as well skew their diet for activities like this in the future.

Whereas before he’d lifted off of Dazai’s dick post-orgasm, Chuuya chuckled a little to himself, waiting only a second before he lowered his head all the way down, deepthroating Dazai. He was a bit longer than Chuuya but hardly close to being as thick, so he didn’t feel his jaw ache too badly.

It was worth it to hear Dazai’s shriek.

“No!” He wailed, his hips now angling away further and further. “Can’t, no, Chuuya, please.”

Chuuya was already planning to give Dazai a break; two orgasms in a row was more than he thought he’d get from Dazai earlier in the night, and if he wanted Dazai to agree to having Chuuya’s dick up his ass, he probably needed a second away from the razor-sharp edge of pleasure. Chuuya himself needed a second after his self-done handjob that felt a little too good for what it actually was. Still, it was tempting to keep going when he realized that Dazai wasn’t trying to pull him off. His hands were still tangled in red strands but not pulling, just laying there tightly. It was more of a desperate attempt to ground himself than it was to get Chuuya to stop.

Still, his moans were pitching higher and higher, scraping against groans and mixing with desperate, whining huffs of breath.

Finally, Chuuya heard a shuddering sob from above, so engrossed in his task that he’d let his eyes drift away. The sound had him focusing right back on Dazai’s face, scanning it with- worry? Greed? A sick twist of lust?

Dazai wasn’t crying, thankfully or unfortunately (Chuuya couldn’t tell which he was feeling), but his eyes were wide and glassy again. Not in a bad way this time, Chuuya realized proudly, but with a sheen of wetness that reflected off of the dim lighting from his standing lamp.

His cock wasn’t twitching with hardness again just yet, but Dazai’s eyes hadn’t closed with exhaustion and there was still a haze of lust building back up again in his irises, framing his lust-blown pupils, so Chuuya felt secure enough to lift off of Dazai’s cock. He sucked intermittently as he drew himself off just to hear the responding hiccups and hitches and whines.

Chuuya backed off of Dazai’s prostate and slid his fingers out for a minute. He didn’t miss the uncomfortable shift Dazai’s hips made from the emptiness, nor did he miss the scrunch of his brow in displeasure.

“Don’t worry,” Chuuya grinned, more than a little mockingly, but most of the bite was doused in pride and fondness. “I’ll fill you back up in a minute.”

“Wasn’t worried,” Dazai tossed back, voice hoarser than Chuuya’s but still dripping with an edge of something he hesitated to label. It wasn’t bad, though. “Chibi’s still trying to get his dick wet, after all.”

Chuuya snorted with a pointed look at Dazai’s trembling limbs and shifting hips, zeroing in on the way his hole clenched at Chuuya’s perusal. “I don’t think I’m the only one.”

Slicking his fingers back up with the lube, Chuuya slid them in again, prodding at his entrance with a third before sinking it in too. His index, middle and ring finger thrust at his prostate one more time just to cut off whatever retort Dazai was mustering up.

As his fingers angled away from his prostate to stop torturing Dazai and focus on stretching, Chuuya returned his focus to Dazai’s scarred skin. Under Dazai’s heavy gaze, Chuuya lavished his lips back onto the scarred expanse of pale skin, licking and nipping the sensitive tissue and enjoying the quiet hitches of breath whenever he ran his mouth over a particularly sensitive scar on his torso. He was working on building the pleasure back up properly this time, interspersed with his hand straying back down to trace around the base of Dazai’s slowly hardening cock, filling back up for the third time that night.

And to think he’d been wondering whether Dazai would be interested in Chuuya fucking him.

Another time, he might tease Dazai with filthy words, degrading and praising alike. He was still toeing a delicate line with his partner, dancing along the edge of what would keep Dazai in his bed as long as Chuuya wanted and what would chase him away.

He needed this to be so incredibly good that if Dazai tried to find pleasure in another partner, all he would be able to think about was Chuuya. He craved that permanence with every touch.

Just as his lips moved further upwards, back towards Dazai’s nipples, he started rubbing against his prostate again.

“Ah, god,” Dazai gasped. He didn’t fight as much now, clearly a little affected by two consecutive orgasms. His legs twitched weakly when Chuuya brushed over it again, regaining enough strength to muster up a stronger jolt when he nipped over his areola. Chuuya tongued his nipple a little more surely now, laving over it and sucking before moving to his other nipple, leaving the other puffy and slick with spit.

As he paid attention to Dazai’s nipples and worked to keep him as still as possible even as he thrust his fingers into his prostate, Chuuya remembered he’d wanted to do something earlier. He’d thought it was a little too much at the time, but clearly, Dazai was into too much.

With Dazai’s restless and panting cries encouraging him, Chuuya pulled away, smirked a little meanly, and blew cool air over his puffy, wet nipple.

“Un, huh?” Dazai leaned away, moaning when the movement resulted in a slightly more forceful jab at his prostate, but Chuuya could already see the areola pebbling.

He followed the movement, blowing more cool air over the area before switching to his other nipple. Dazai’s hums and pants were confused, but it wasn’t long until they devolved into a frustrated tone.

Chuuya had had this done to him before, so he knew intimately that, while starting off as a weird mix of sensations, it eventually ached. For Dazai, whose nipples were more sensitive than Chuuya’s, it probably bordered on pain.

The thought sent heat spiking down to his dick again.

He was plucking at Dazai’s nerves, playing him so well and urging him into a sweeter, deeper submission. Chuuya had to wonder if Dazai would let him cause a little more pain if he forced a few more orgasms out of him. Nothing permanent, just something along the lines of hair-pulling. He didn’t want to try now at risk of ruining the carefully cultivated mood, but it was a conversation he wanted to have later.

Dazai was pushing back into his fingers now, comfortable with the stretch and needy for more pleasure that Chuuya was more than willing to dole out in spades. He hadn’t gotten friction on his cock in a while, so Chuuya was sure he wasn’t close, but Dazai acted like it, whining and begging in moans and clenching his fingers in the black duvet. He still just laid there, taking the touch without fight or argument, accepting everything Chuuya gave him. The compliance made Chuuya shiver a little, because he knew that the next time they ended up here it would be a very different story. Dazai was collecting information just as much as he was sinking into pleasure.

The reminder made Chuuya’s dick twitch a bit in impatience.

That’s right; they hadn’t even gotten to the main part of the night.

Chuuya slipped his fingers out of Dazai just as he swiveled his hips down needily.

“What-” Dazai tilted his head to see what was happening, only for his eyes to widen. A breach of blunt pressure brushed his sensitive hole.

“Yeah?” Chuuya asked, lightly pressing the head of his dick to Dazai’s well-prepared, slick entrance. 

Dazai was already nodding, head tipped back into the pillow, before Chuuya could take another breath. “Yes, yes, Chuuya, yes. Come on.”

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya put a little more pressure, just enough to force Dazai’s hole to open over the tip of his cock. Then, a thought striking him, reached up over Dazai, accidentally pushing himself further in, hissing at the tightness while Dazai’s breath shuddered. He grabbed a pillow and leaned back, slipping back out of Dazai and grinning a little at Dazai’s displeased huff. He reached under Dazai and lifted, hoisting his partner up and slipping the pillow under his hips.

He glanced up while he realigned himself. “Better?”

Dazai’s eyes were wide, blinking occasionally but trained on him. The flush on his face was darkening severely. “You… just picked me up. With one arm.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? I’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, but not like…” Dazai snapped his mouth shut, looking irritated and flustered and like there were far too many thoughts running around his brain for Chuuya’s liking.

(Those moments, Dazai thought, dying a little inside, had only happened because he was injured and literally couldn’t walk. The casual reminder that Chuuya, even without For the Tainted Sorrow, physically doubled his strength had him reeling.)

Chuuya pushed the head of his cock into Dazai to disrupt his thoughts. It worked, pushing a little gasp out of Dazai’s lips. Slowly, he kept going, pushing his cock further into Dazai. It was tight. Even with liberal stretching, Chuuya knew he wasn’t small so he took his time, letting Dazai feel every inch and get used to it.

Even with his patience, Dazai was trembling. Chuuya, noticing his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing was labored, leaned forward. Dazai’s arms were up by his head with his palms facing upward, his finger hooked under dips in the fabric of the pillowcase. Chuuya reached his left hand up and gently cupped his flushed cheek.

After a second, Dazai’s eyes opened, blearily looking up at Chuuya’s blue eyes, those dark, widened pupils reflecting the blue hue and making him look ethereal when he leaned into Chuuya’s hand.

.

Ethereal?

Since when did he think about Dazai like that?

Dazai’s small, painfully affectionate smile cut through his thoughts. Chuuya couldn’t help himself from smiling back, a little secretive thing, like they were sharing something between them that they didn’t dare speak into existence. He pushed forward a little more, reaching up to clasp Dazai’s hand with his right when it shook.

It felt so much more intense than anything they’d done until then.

It felt like a century had passed when Chuuya’s hips were finally flush with Dazai’s, so deep inside his partner and stretched over him in an intimate position that he could hardly tell where he ended and Dazai began. Dazai’s mouth parted in a desperate gasping for air. He looked….

Gods, Chuuya really was lucky.

Scary? Skeletal? Death warmed over? The idiots in the mafia had no idea what they were talking about. Dazai was fucking beautiful, from the lines on his skin to his stupidly swoopy, curly hair and even his dumb, gorgeously long model legs. Those pretty, bright, warm eyes were the most decadent wine Chuuya had ever seen.

He’d never tell Dazai any of it, but it was the principle of the matter.

His hips stuttered out and in, eliciting a little equally shocked and pleasured sound from Dazai. It was all he needed.

Chuuya, feeling like every part of him was on fire, pulled out and thrust back in, using his weight in the downwards angle of his fucking as he pushed into Dazai quickly.

“Ah, hah, hm, Chuuya,” Dazai choked on his whines with every thrust.

It was like electricity zapped with every slide, every curve of friction. Chuuya felt possessed, his pace not faltering despite the tingling that skittered up his arm whenever Dazai unconsciously tightened his grip on his hand. It was almost as telling as the fluttering of his ass whenever something felt good. Dazai wasn’t particularly strong, but his grip was tight enough at times that his knuckles were white with the force of it.

Chuuya loved the reminder that Dazai was just as pleasured by this. His partner, his idiot of an executive, had cum twice on Chuuya’s fingers and tongue and was still letting him fuck him into oblivion. The power rush was insane.

Everything about this was an ego boost, from Dazai’s clear, unhidden arousal to his alluring little hiccups every time Chuuya thrust at just the right angle. He felt mesmerized, eyes on Dazai like he couldn’t bear to look anywhere else. 

Dazedly, hips still moving and chasing the deliciously tight and lube-slick, wet friction, Chuuya abandoned his left hand’s spot at Dazai’s cheek, heart clenching at the way his partner head leaned to chase the touch, to pinch at his nipples. Dazai didn’t like his nails long, so there was only a little bite into his hand when Dazai’s grip tightened to the point where Chuuya suspected it was straining his own hand.

Still, his loud, wailing moan at the overwhelming amount of sensation and continued, probably now painful, sensation on his nipples was deeply gratifying. The thought of Dazai twinging with this kind of pain in a sexual context had a groan rumbling in Chuuya’s chest.

He tried to keep his pace as steady as possible, not wanting this to end too soon for either of them. Dazai’s other hand was still gripping at the sheets desperately, trying to get some kind of grounding leverage away from the pleasure. Something darkly possessive gripped Chuuya. He abandoned his assault on Dazai’s nipples in exchange for grabbing at the wayward appendage.

His hand landed on Dazai’s neatly lined forearm. Chuuya’s pace faltered a bit.

He hadn’t lavished these scars with the attention he’d given everywhere else. These weren’t battle wounds, after all. These were self-made, precise, done with the intention of taking this insane man away from him.

They felt off-limits to Chuuya, like even though he’d unraveled their barrier from his eyesight he shouldn’t touch them.

Dazed, distantly recognizing Dazai’s wriggling and searching hips trying to restart the devastating pace, Chuuya lifted that arm towards him. 

Under Dazai’s confused gaze, Chuuya pressed his lips tenderly to the white lines, maintaining eye contact the entire time. His blue eyes seared into Dazai with every bit of intent he felt. It wasn’t the roaming, desperate search to know and possess every inch of skin. This was a deep, gentle intimacy. Dazai’s eyes widened, and he could see every single movement of those eyes, the thoughts behind them, the way they roved over every inch of Chuuya’s face and begged for answers. There was the calculative edge Chuuya was deeply familiar with, the vulnerable one he’d recently gotten to know, and some deeply saddened, desperate clawing.

And then came the heat.

Dazai’s hips shifted down, gasping, fucking himself on Chuuya’s cock, some renewed desperation to be touched and owned that Chuuya only barely caught before he was throwing his head back in pleasure at the sensation.

“Chuuya!” Dazai cried out loudly, sensual and needy.

Chuuya pulled out and slammed back in faster now. Again, again, until he could feel the constant, pulsing fluttering and hear loud wailing from Dazai, growing louder and louder. His cock visibly twitched from where it was pressed between their stomachs. Chuuya didn’t have a hand free to touch it, busy holding Dazai’s right and gently running his fingers over the scars on the left. 

To make up for it, he fucked into Dazai a little harder, more pointed, trying to direct every thrust at Dazai’s prostate and hearing his trembling, hitching little hiccups from the sensation.

It was so much.

Just as the coil in his gut started to tighten considerably, he heard Dazai’s pants reach some kind of miniature crescendo. “Chuuya, please, please, touch me,” he begged, and he would have dropped everything to do whatever Dazai asked in that moment, but his grip tightened contradictorily on Chuuya’s hand and his other clasped onto his forearm to ground himself, effectively keeping him from moving. It would take a moment to wrestle his arms away without ruining the mood.

So Chuuya smirked instead.

“You can come just like this,” he said, thrusting into Dazai a little more forcefully.

“Please,” Dazai begged, but his breath was hitching and his whines were reaching the pitch they had the last time he orgasmed on Chuuya’s tongue.

The flame stoked higher and higher between them, Chuuya’s thrusts starting to stutter just as Dazai’s moans turned into a high, breathy pitch and he was wheezing like he was drowning. So caught up in the feeling of Dazai’s ass tightening around him and how close he was to cumming, Chuuya didn’t realize that Dazai was that close until his ass fluttered around his cock and his partner was nearly screaming, again, so high on pleasure that he’d cummed just from anal stimulation.

Barely able to keep it together enough to fuck Dazai through his own orgasm, Chuuya spilled moments later, the coil tightening to a fevered pitch until he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Fuck,” Dazai breathed out, slumping back.

Chuuya, managing to hold himself up where he was hunched over Dazai’s body, huffed out his agreement.

They stayed there for a few long moments while Chuuya’s racing heart settled back into something resembling normal. It wasn’t long until, when he sat up, he dimly felt his cock still in Dazai’s ass. There was a disgruntled, oversensitive whine at the sensation. Chuuya kissed his apology into Dazai’s thigh before lowering it and pulling out.

.

Shit.

Chuuya wasn’t going to get hard again after that.

He knew that.

But gods damn.

As soon as he slipped out, a dribble of his cum started leaking out of the soft gaping of Dazai’s ass. His legs were spread naturally, occasionally spasming from residual sensation. Dazai’s chest was even puffier in the aftermath than it was while Chuuya was working over it, all reddened and bruised. The hickeys from earlier were stark and showing up against pretty alabaster skin. His scars were quickly joining them, purpling from the hickeys he’d sucked over the white lines. His face was slack with relaxation from the euphoria of three intense orgasms.

He looked fucked out and owned.

Chuuya’s eyes kept drawing downwards, hyperfocused on the way cum was drooling out of his ass, the reddened ring of muscle clenching softly every few seconds.

It would be way too much. Chuuya should start cleaning them up. But every time he thought about getting up, he felt so fucking tempted. His fingers reached up to brush over Dazai’s abused chest with wonder.

“Hey,” Dazai flinched away, but Chuuya’s fingers followed, settling onto the overworked nipples and rubbing over them. “Ah, why… hm, hurts,” Dazai whined at the sensation, but he wasn’t moving away as much as he would be if he really wanted it to stop.

And “hurts” wasn’t a no.

Well, it kind of was, for Dazai. But Chuuya didn’t take it seriously when Dazai leaned the tiniest bit into it after a moment’s evaluation of the feeling.

He kept going, not pinching- because that probably really would hurt- just settling flat pressure over them until he saw Dazai’s hips squirm. Chuuya stopped his ministrations, gaining a confused, tired and dazed glance from Dazai.

Chuuya rested a hand on the soft skin of the back of Dazai’s thigh and pushed it up. Just like he thought it would, Dazai’s hole clenched and more cum dribbled out.

When Dazai didn’t voice any complaints, only squirming embarrassedly at the wet feeling, Chuuya gave in to the temptation. He dipped his head down and licked a broad, flat stripe over the twitching hole and delighting in Dazai’s gasp.

“Chuuya, what- hah! Hn.”

Chuuya licked over it again, repeating the motion until Dazai’s thighs bracketed around his head with a needy little shuffle. Finally, he sealed his lips over the muscle and sucked.

Dazai made a new sound altogether, something edging on possessed but with the same loud, wailing, pitchy whistle of a scream. Chuuya wished he could see his face, because he knew this felt good, especially after getting fucked well. And Dazai had been, if he said so himself, considering he’d fingered him into two orgasms and fucked him right after. Chuuya was not a selfish lover, which worked well for them, considering Dazai was drinking down every scrap of pleasure Chuuya had to offer.

He continued to alternate between sucking on the twitching rim and lapping over it with thick, broad strokes until Dazai was mostly hard and panting again. Chuuya noticed with more than a little pride that after a few more minutes of stimulation Dazai’s legs couldn’t even fully wrap around him, laying limply at the sides of his head and shaking with exhaustion from the effort it took to keep them somewhat out of Chuuya’s way. 

He could’ve held them back himself, and if he were feeling a little nicer he might’ve gone ahead and done it, but seeing Dazai’s wavering concentration after three orgasms was cute.

He wasn’t driven by lust at this point; Chuuya didn’t particularly like the taste of his own cum, no matter how hot the sight of it dripping from Dazai’s ass was, and he didn’t have as short of a refractory period as Dazai, so another round was out of the question unless his body was put through as much stimulation as he had subjected Dazai to. 

The emotional reward of hearing Dazai’s pitchy desperation caused solely by Chuuya outweighed any physical gratification he might’ve sought.

(And, maybe, it was a little selfish on his part too. If Dazai ever dared to seek out a lover that wasn’t Chuuya, he wanted to have indulged Dazai in his every whim. There weren’t many who were willing to go along with Dazai’s ridiculous standards and requests, and even fewer who had the stamina to keep up with the sex drive Chuuya was openly encouraging. Chuuya wanted to be on Dazai’s mind every time someone refuses to do something or simply doesn’t think about it so that all Dazai would be able to think was “Chuuya would have.”)

As soon as Chuuya thrust his tongue into Dazai’s hole, he knew this wasn’t going to last for much longer. Dazai’s legs spasmed at his sides and he could hear the weak, overwhelmed little yelp that accompanied the full-body jolt. 

Chuuya licked into him with more conviction than before, curling his tongue again and again when it dragged a deep whimper out of Dazai. He didn’t let up even when Dazai started twitching away, no doubt a little weary of the climbing pleasure of a fourth orgasm.

Chuuya didn’t let him get too far, bracketing Dazai’s hips with his arms and holding them down as he licked faster, deeper. His head bobbed with the force of it while he tongue-fucked his partner hard and as deep as he could get, tightening his hold on Dazai when the force of the shaking increased drastically and his noises kept climbing in volume. His hole was twitching and he was crying out loudly, having passed some kind of edge but not cumming, not yet.

“Ah, ah, ah, I’m- I’m there, I-” Dazai cried, confused and dazed and grinding back onto Chuuya’s tongue. “It’s- why-”

Chuuya wanted to see that look, that confusion as he soared past his usual precipice. Consecutive orgasms could be weird like that; when it was too good, too much, so much all at once, the euphoric clenching and unclenching and release of endorphins just didn’t stop. Real, substantial ejaculation was around another corner and Chuuya chased it for Dazai, following the high, breathy, desperate panting and confused grinding with a single-minded intensity.

When Dazai’s breath hitched more when Chuuya curled his tongue into one spot over another, he switched to focus on it, overstimulating the spot until Dazai was sobbing dryly, hiccuping and grinding and begging for something he didn’t understand, but knew only Chuuya could give him, not even trying to touch his cock even as it bobbed.

This is what Chuuya wanted.

Dazai would never get this from anyone else if he had his way.

Dazai’s head tipped on a silent scream and his hips jolted away, away, away seconds before his cock actually started ejaculating. Chuuya’s hold tightened a little more, keeping Dazai on that razor edge and forcing him to ride out the longest, worst, greatest orgasm of his life on Chuuya’s tongue. His sobs weren’t actually producing tears, but Chuuya suddenly wished they were. The desperation was gorgeous on Dazai.

Next time he wanted to try edging and really make him cry.

Even when Chuuya finally pulled his head away, Dazai took a long time to come down from his fourth and final orgasm of the night. He laid back, eyes closed but (probably) not sleeping. His body twitched slightly every few seconds from what was probably the most intense sensation of his life (outside of the pain of being shot or stabbed or having his throat slit, Chuuya amended after one more look at his scars).

“What was that?” Dazai asked distantly, sounding a little airy and gone still.

“Rimming,” Chuuya answered, eyes bright. “Thought you’d like it.”

Chuuya took the ensuing quiet moment to head to his ensuite bathroom and grab a washcloth, rubbing his sore jaw. It’d been a while since he’d even tried eating anyone out. He made his way back into the bedroom, taking a short second to admire Dazai’s form splayed out on his bed. Gently, he ran the washcloth over Dazai’s skin, smiling a little at the pleased hum that escaped him at the sensation. Chuuya’s washcloth was probably softer than any of Dazai's blankets.

He’d noticed at some point that Dazai’s bandages, while genuinely meant to hide the scars on his skin, also kept it from touching rough textures. His partner’s skin was particularly sensitive to certain fabrics. Chuuya was glad that ever since he started getting his mafia paycheck he hadn’t settled for anything with a thread count lower than six hundred. Being a street kid for so long made him realize that he deserved the finer things in life, unlike Dazai who acted like he was allergic to self care. 

His 1200 thread count, one hundred percent Egyptian cotton sheets would probably be heaven for someone like Dazai as soon as they were clean enough to slip under.

Chuuya would even grab his nicer duvet set from the closet just for tonight. It was sinfully comfortable, which was a problem when Chuuya needed to get up in the morning so he tended to leave it in the closet until he had a break. They both had a few days off, though, so it was fine.

After wiping down Dazai carefully first, being extra gentle with his abused nipples, and then himself with much less fanfare, Chuuya tossed the cloth into his hamper and started the bath water, making sure it was just under scalding. For some reason, Dazai was particularly fond of the heat, and nothing less than almost burning would do it for him. He only knew that because the last time he’d seen him somewhat relaxed was when they had a chance to visit a natural hot spring during a mission a few months back.

He came back into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed. Dazai had come down from his high at that point, but despite not wanting him to fall asleep, Chuuya almost wanted to leave him like this.

The sight of his still partially sticky skin firmed his resolve.

Rather than argue with a tired Dazai, Chuuya snaked his arms underneath Dazai, causing his eyes to open in brief alarm. Chuuya just aimed a satisfied smile at him while lifting him into his arms and carrying him toward the bathroom.

“Come on, mackerel,” he spoke into somewhat sweaty brown curls.

“I can walk,” Dazai murmured a little indignantly.

Except Chuuya knew that Dazai would’ve pitched a fit and thrashed around if he really didn’t want to be picked up, so he didn’t think much of the words.

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes instead, setting him down in the traditional shower on the stool already in there.

“I just want to sleep,” he complained at Chuuya, who leaned over to shut off the bath water.

“And I wanna have clean sheets,” he snarked back, turning on the showerhead and facing it away while waiting for it to warm up.

“Is this how you treat all of the people you have sex with?” Dazai shook his head mockingly, but it was weaker than usual. “Chuuya’s such a brute.”

“Shut up, dumbass.”

He didn’t get a response for a long minute. Maybe Dazai really was just tired, but he’d thank him (not openly, but internally) for making him bathe his sore muscles when he didn’t have to go through the next day with cramps he’d complain to Chuuya about.

(Dazai just didn’t think Chuuya wanted him to stick around overnight. It contradicted his understanding of one-night stands but succeeded in warming his cheeks.

He kept his face forward to hide it. There wasn't anything to look at in Chuuya's bathroom anyway. He took showers here often enough that he knew what it looked like.)

“Eyes,” Chuuya spoke blandly before bringing the showerhead over to wet Dazai's brown hair, dragging his fingers through it to bring it away from his face. He methodically went about making sure every strand was soaked, then reached for his citrus shampoo and lathered it into the curls. 

Dazai had been taking more showers at Chuuya's apartment ever since they became partners and it showed. He didn't know what kind of thirteen-in-one nightmare Dazai had been using before, but Chuuya's curl shampoo and conditioner (though he suspected Dazai didn't bother with the conditioner when he was over) had revived some definition in the previously frizzy locks.

He was lucky they had a similar hair type.

After another brief reminder to close his eyes, Chuuya rinsed the shampoo from Dazai's hair and went about the same routine with the conditioner. Dazai usually smelled like grass and some kind of wood, but Chuuya liked to smell the artificial citrus on him. 

He washed Dazai's back for him, taking less time on his body than on his hair. The caressing touch had been welcome in the bedroom, but he wasn't sure what boundaries remained outside of sexual activity.

Once Dazai was properly cleaned, Chuuya quickly went about his own routine, quick and without nearly as much care as he'd taken with his partner.

He grabbed a fluffy towel for himself to dry off enough to step onto his carpet. Then he reached over and lifted Dazai off of the stool, noting that Dazai didn't have a quip this time. For once, he seemed to have tired his insomniac out. He settled him into the bath.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he said, briefly finger-combing wet brown curls one more time.

Chuuya scrunched his long hair with the towel while he walked back into the bedroom, grabbing out a pair of panda-covered shorts for himself. He quickly dressed, then retrieved the largest, softest shirt he owned (which, ironically, had been a gag gift from Kouyou featuring a cartoon fish) and his softest sleep pants, decorated with sloths, along with a pair of boxers Dazai had left over during one of their sporadic sleepovers.

Did Chuuya like graphic designs? Yes. He'd never gotten to have them when he was a kid on the streets, so he indulged whenever he could now. He had a video game and animated movie collection in his apartment's living room to show for it.

He had a sickening feeling, while he ran his hand over the fabric, that Dazai probably still didn't get to indulge. The weird reactions to sweets and touch and simple indulgences made more and more sense after he saw that bite mark. A lot of little, weird things were clicking about his partner and Chuuya wasn't sure how to feel about it.

They'd both had shitty childhoods, but Chuuya was only now considering that Dazai might still be living in that nightmare.

He'd been standing there lost in thought for long enough that when he walked into the bathroom with the clothes, Dazai was already trying to stand on shaking legs.

“You good?” Chuuya asked, a brow raised in amusement.

Dazai flipped him off. “Just fine.”

And then he almost slipped and cracked his head open.

Chuuya helped him out after that and toweled him off, bracing Dazai against him for a moment until he got himself together. It was just long enough that Chuuya, using his shorter height to his advantage for once, managed to scrunch Dazai's curls rather than let Dazai rub the towel over his hair like a maniac. Chuuya felt a little accomplished when he saw a few defined curls flop over his partner's blind eye.

“Get dressed,” Chuuya nudged him. “Bandages are in the top left drawer.”

He walked out of the bathroom, feeling Dazai’s keen, piercing eyes watching him, and quickly stripped the duvet off the bed, tossing it into the closet at random and grabbing the nicer one.

After placing it nicely over the bed, he took the time to replace half of his silk pillowcases with Egyptian cotton ones for Dazai. After finishing his task, he picked up their discarded clothes and put them into the small washer so that Dazai wouldn’t be able to just get dressed and leave the second he woke up. Chuuya still needed to stall him long enough to put some breakfast in him. When he finished, he went back to the bathroom to check on Dazai.

He was standing where Chuuya left him, his fingers squirming over the soft materials draped over his body. His attention was stuck on the unfogged mirror. The steam from the bath had covered their reflections, but now it was clear for Dazai to fully inspect the marks covering his scars.

Chuuya's eyes didn't fail to notice that the drawer of bandages hadn't even been opened.

“Ready?” Chuuya asked. Do you want me to put them on for you?

“Yeah.” It's fine.

It was too late to cook, and honestly, Chuuya didn't want to sabotage Dazai's sleep when he saw the drooping eyelids and barely suppressed yawns. So he led him straight to the bed. Chuuya climbed in on the side with his silk pillowcases quickly so that he could watch the moment Dazai touched the Egyptian cotton sheets.

Dazai didn't disappoint him.

After peeling the blanket away, he touched a hand to the sheets to brace himself and stopped the moment he did, eyes wide in wonder. A tenseness Chuuya didn't quite notice earlier melted away from his partner.

Dread, he realized, at getting into a bed with fabric he couldn't fall asleep on. Dazai had been resigning himself to a night of discomfort.

Chuuya watched while Dazai slipped into the blankets quickly, his unbandaged hands and arms running over the fabrics he was enclosed in. Chuuya couldn't stop his smile at the almost audible sigh of teary relief that escaped Dazai when his head touched the same fabric instead of glossy silk.

Chuuya slept with silk pillows for his hair, but the fabric didn't quite agree with Dazai. He was already making plans to buy more Egyptian cotton throw blankets for his living room for times when Dazai would sneak in at night without warning. Chuuya never asked why, but he felt like he had a few more clues after tonight.

He didn’t bother smothering his smile when Dazai turned over to face him. Those wine brown eyes were still glimmering with unconcealed emotion, but Chuuya wasn’t naive enough to think he’d see the same sight when morning came. He reached out and tugged Dazai over while he shuffled closer, bringing the both of them to the middle of the bed so that Dazai didn’t have to touch his silk pillows. He gently manhandled Dazai into laying half on top of him while he tangled their feet together.

They’d been in a similar position before, but never so tightly. It served to bring Dazai comfort and also made sure that if he tried to leave in the morning, he’d wake Chuuya up in the process.

No words were spoken, but after a minute, Dazai finally laid his head fully over Chuuya’s heartbeat with a small, indulgent sigh. He slung his arm over, latching onto Chuuya just as much. 

His body relaxed, but Chuuya didn’t drift off. Instead of falling for it, he stayed up for what must have been another hour on his phone until he felt Dazai’s body slump the tiniest bit more against him, finally falling asleep for real rather than the facade he'd tried to pull. Just as Chuuya began to fall asleep, there was a small buzz to his left.

Dazai’s phone, one of three that he owned, lit up just barely within reaching distance. Chuuya, a little curious, reached over to grab it, spotting a text from Odasaku in the lock screen preview. If it were anyone else, he might’ve ignored it, but he knew Dazai hated ignoring his very few friends. He knew Dazai’s passwords just as he knew all of Chuuya’s so he quickly tapped the passcode in just to check if the message was important.

Odasaku: if you have your phone on you, me and Ango just got back

Odasaku: heading to Lupin rn

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed.

Not ‘if you’re awake’ but ‘if you have your phone.’

Like they didn’t think Dazai would be with anyone or doing anything. Like the only reason Dazai wouldn’t drop everything would be if he didn’t have his phone to check their texts.

Chuuya had met Odasaku once and only once and didn’t really like the man. Not only was he not suited to being in the mafia, but Dazai hardly looked at anything, anyone, else when he was in the room.

He lifted his hand to run his fingers through Dazai’s hair lightly while he stared at the text message. It turned out to be a good distraction from breaking the phone altogether when Dazai’s head tilted into his touch and he rubbed his cheek against Chuuya’s chest.

Impulsively, he swiped out of the messenger app and tapped into the camera. Feeling a little vindictive as he did so, he was thankful that he’d waited to turn off the bedside lamp as he snapped a picture of Dazai curled into him, passed out on Chuuya’s obviously bare chest with fingers tangled in brown curls and wrapped under blankets. The angle made it so that it wasn’t clear whether or not Dazai was wearing a shirt, but Chuuya’s face was visible, contorted into a smug smirk.

Me: (1 attachment)

Me: He’s busy.

He ignored the ensuing messages, pouring in from both Odasaku’s and a number saved under Ango. Chuuya sent the picture to himself, deleted it from Dazai’s phone, and then tossed it aside on the bedside table after silencing notifications when his screen wouldn't stop lighting up. He flicked the light off and leaned his face into the conditioner-softened brown hair, breathing in the comforting scent of citrus as he dozed off.