Chapter Text
Soft carpet against his feet. Between his fingers. Just outside on Chuuya’s balcony—the humming of crickets rubbing their legs together and the dying shrieks of cicadas into the night.
The weatherman on the radio promised rain tonight. So, where was it? Now he had no static noise to fill the quiet except for the clinking of glassware from the kitchen, minus the nails-on-chalkboard thoughts crammed into his mind’s attic.
He sat on the floor with his back against the bed as Chuuya walked in, almost tripping over one leg stretched across the entry. Chuuya’s lips moved several times too many to count, words failing him until he finally managed: “What the hell are you doing on the floor?”
And Dazai got away with saying something sarcastic—I don’t like furniture—because, really, what else did Chuuya expect out of him? Honesty? Logic? The real reason was that Dazai did not know how to react to anything more than a prison box, and there was too much of everything in Chuuya’s house for his mind to be even remotely comfortable in it. Not empty enough. Too busy. Just like the thoughts in his head.
It made him squirm in the worst way possible.
Even the carpet surrounding him felt too…too real against his skin. It tickled the palms of his hands and he wanted to shudder.
But the best, most relieving part was that Chuuya learned long, long ago to quit questioning Dazai’s quirks. He no longer snapped back with the attitude of a fiery know-it-all. Now he just accepted the white lies and half-truths as they were, instead focusing on subtle, between-the-lines hints Dazai dropped: the silence after stewing in thoughts for too long, the vacant expression he had as he stared at a wall, how he failed to put on a mask like it was a cry for help gone unsaid.
Chuuya shook his head and muttered something under breath that Dazai didn’t quite catch. Nothing new from him. And in return, Dazai also did not question that quirk of his. Because that was what he did best to those around him: getting under skins and wrenching violent reactions out of people. Made them seem livelier and less like walking, talking caricatures out of a painting. Kunikida filled the void in the meantime, but Chuuya always did have a special place in his heart.
“You’re lucky I was in good enough of a mood to answer the door,” Chuuya said as he rummaged through a few drawers and changed into something more comfortable for him to lounge in. “I debated just letting your ass stay out there looking like a fool.”
Huffing in amusement, Dazai drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them. “So, so nice of you to do that, Chuuya. I’m flattered.”
“Whatever.” After tossing his clothes in a basket, Chuuya leaned against a wall and folded his arms. “So, what brings you here at this ungodly hour? You always have a reason for stopping by on short notice, so spit it out.”
Dazai groaned and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. He knew this was coming. Knew it too well; even tried preparing himself for that inevitable question but for some reason, he struggled to find a suitable enough lie to force-feed Chuuya with. Well before he found himself at Chuuya’s doorstep ringing the bell, he knew it was going to be one of those nights. A night of bad habit, regret, and a lost love he always found his way back to. It looked him in the mirror with sorrow, even as his reflection mimicked his routine of spitting toothpaste into the sink and putting fresh bandages on.
This great big gaping feeling of nothingness would see itself go unquenched unless Dazai went to Chuuya.
Went to Chuuya for help, but Dazai reframed it like this: he needed to get his mind off things and while Chuuya did not have a way with words, he was pretty damn good at using his body and getting Dazai to both shut up and his mind to settle down for a few hours.
“I’m bored,” Dazai finally answered with a small shrug. “Just felt like blowing off some steam since I couldn’t sleep.”
The look of disbelief Dazai got told him everything. Chuuya didn’t buy it. Well, can’t say he didn’t try, knowing that it sounded a little too stupid and unconfident coming from him. Most knew Dazai’s idea of blowing off steam was drowning himself in bitter, alcoholic reality all by his lonesome; not sharing a bed with who was supposed to be his enemy now but never truly was. Chuuya tried to put on that façade that they were bitter rivals now, but he, too, failed to keep up the charade by letting Dazai come back again and again. They were both sore losers together. The past never left either of them. They still lived in it, in different ways.
Only when Dazai tried to separate himself and forge a new path four years ago did he learn the hard way that Chuuya became a part of him. There was no glorious rebirth of a phoenix rising from the ashes. Just a broken, hollow man stumbling and trying to find his place in the new world with this new life. Trying to avoid anything and everything to do with Chuuya only made his ex-partner take up even more space in his head until Dazai had nothing left to give.
Now here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity.
How embarrassing. But at least no one questioned the days when Dazai doubled up on the layers of bandages around his neck to hide the claim marks Chuuya left on him. The regret in the morning never came from Dazai. It came from Chuuya, who expressed how fucking stupid he was for getting caught up in the moment and tying them together. Mori would kill him for fooling around with a traitor and society would shun them both for being two helplessly in love alphas who always went against the world and what it had to say.
“Blowing off steam my ass,” Chuuya muttered, shutting the door behind them. “You're gonna get us caught one day, and it'll be your fault. Doesn't that bother you?”
Dazai got up and flopped onto the bed, rolling around in the sheets. Soft. Tickled his skin. But the sheets smelled of home and familiarity and of a man who never turned his back on Dazai even now. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it close. “Why would it bother me?”
“I dunno.” Chuuya heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe ‘cause it'll be real bad if the wrong person finds out what we've been doing this whole time while going around and putting on the act that we hate each other's guts and want each other dead.”
Chuckling, Dazai lay down on his stomach and rested his cheek on the pillow, nuzzling it. Warm. Hints of pine and dew after the rain reached his nose. He never took his eyes off Chuuya. “Why would I care whether or not someone finds out? All that matters to me is spending time with the one I want to be with.”
“Easy for you to say, you don't have nearly as much to lose as I do.”
That, Dazai disagreed with, but he knew there was little point in pushing back against Chuuya's ego. Did Chuuya risk everything by sleeping with a bad omen of the past? Debatable. But Dazai had the constant displeasure of trying to mask the overpowering scent that lingered on his skin and refused to let go like a brutal hug.
It earned him confused glances from Atsushi, who wondered why Dazai seemed to have such a volatile scent that changed week by week. Thankfully Atsushi was still a little naïve enough to believe that taking all those scent blockers in his youth damaged his ability to properly smell. The same couldn't be said for Yosano. She always had a knowing look but couldn't pinpoint the culprit. Just that Dazai paraded around in confidence belonging to someone.
“You say that like I’m not a phone call away from getting in a lot of trouble and getting executed by the mafia.” Dazai propped himself up with his elbows and wagged a finger. “Newsflash, Chuuya, you could’ve ratted me out a long time ago and there’d be nothing I could do about it.”
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Chuuya approached the bed and yanked the pillow out from underneath Dazai, smacking him upside the head with it.
“Hey!”
A smirk tugged at Chuuya’s lips, and he tossed the pillow back onto the bed. “That’s what you get for being a smartass.”
“You messed my hair up,” Dazai complained as he shot Chuuya a dirty look, quickly combing his fingers through his hair to smooth out the strands sticking out.
“Please, as if you care.”
Mischief flashed in Dazai’s eyes when he sat up and tugged Chuuya down onto the bed. He didn’t miss the flicker of surprise when Chuuya stumbled and fell down beside Dazai. He grunted on impact, words muffled against the sheets when he pushed himself up and narrowed his eyes at Dazai, who smiled innocently in return.
Reaching for the pillow again, Dazai wrapped his arms around it and buried half his face in the soft material. He wanted nothing more than to bundle himself in the blanket of Chuuya’s scent and become drunk on the nostalgia of a past he had first come to tolerate, and then learned to associate with an odd sense of comfort he couldn’t find in someone else.
Once, the joke had been on Chuuya when they were still fifteen and comparing the scents of their childhoods to violence, bloodshed, and gunpowder. No one would ever want you with a gross smell like that, Dazai would say and stick his tongue out. And he always came out the winner when Chuuya fell for it, and they fell into arguing like it was the most natural thing in the world for them to do when they weren’t busy being weapons of mass destruction.
The joke was on Dazai now. Going days, weeks, sometimes months without the gentle kiss of Chuuya on his skin made the sleepless nights even more unbearable and the nightmares so torturous he stopped counting how many times he woke up in the dead of night sweating. He already loathed going back to his tiny dorm room at night. Now he hated it. It never felt like home, but now it edged on hostile as shadowy figures in the corners danced and writhed in agony, waiting their turn for a bite of his sanity.
Sometimes he felt like he was withdrawing from a horribly wonderful drug that might kill him one day for being too greedy.
“You really—”
Dazai didn’t want to hear another silly word from Chuuya. They were past the painful question of why he came to visit; now he wanted to fall back into the arms of familiarity and pretend for the night that nothing else mattered. The agency didn’t exist, and neither did the mafia—only Dazai and Chuuya remained, two twin stars in the dark.
He shook his head and grabbed Chuuya by the wrists, pulling them close to him.
“Don’t ruin the mood, Chuuya,” Dazai murmured, swiping his thumbs over the insides of Chuuya’s wrists. He pressed down lightly, felt the faint pulse of life beating against the skin.
It had once again been a while since he remembered the scent of pine and dew on his skin. He often used scent blockers to erase the memory of Chuuya on skin. The worst part of his job. Because it left him empty and longing, like every time he took those damn things, he was losing an important part of himself again and again. Dazai had to settle for the bite marks Chuuya littered his neck in, but even that wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Not when it went soul-deep. He…wasn’t sure he could ever be satisfied. He always wanted more, more, more, and Chuuya always gave it to him.
Leaning in close, Dazai brushed his lips across Chuuya’s wrist. He felt fingers stiffen under his grip and heard Chuuya’s breath hitch. Eyes bored into the back of his head, and he knew Chuuya was watching his every move with that piercing gaze of his. Being this close, Chuuya’s scent made him feel lightheaded and airy like he was on cloud nine. Dazai wanted to drown himself in it—wanted those hands all over him and erasing and replacing his identity. He nuzzled the skin and nipped it, earning himself a quiet hiss when Chuuya yanked his hand away.
“Could’ve warned me you were gonna do that.” Chuuya rubbed his wrist in circles.
“That’s no fun. I shouldn’t have to tell you what I want, Chuuya.” Dazai heaved a dramatic sigh and collapsed back against the bed. He reached out and beckoned for Chuuya to come closer. “Come here. I hate having to take those dumb things just to get rid of your scent—I don’t know why people care so much. It always makes me feel grumpy after.”
With a small scoff, Chuuya crawled on top of Dazai and pinned his wrists down. “What a baby. You can’t go more than a few days before you come crawling back here.”
“Says the one who called me in the middle of the night in a panic thinking he was dying because he had really bad chest pain and didn’t know why.” Amusement glimmered in Dazai’s eyes. “That’s what separation does to you. It hurts.”
“Y’know it would’ve been nice if you told me about all these consequences before we marked each other. It freaked me the hell out.”
Dazai hummed thoughtfully and squirmed a little beneath Chuuya. A grin played on his lips. “You didn’t ask. But it’s only temporary. Maybe a few months.”
“A few months?” Chuuya repeated in disbelief. He tightened his fingers around Dazai’s wrists and leaned in dangerously close. “Sometimes I really wanna strangle you.”
Letting out a wistful sigh, Dazai’s eyes softened, and he stole a quick kiss. “And now you’re stuck with me. We’re stuck with each other. I have to deal with it as much as you do. But,” he paused and averted his gaze for a moment, “even though you keep saying we’re both stupid for getting ourselves into this mess, I like how you’ve never told me you regretted it yet.”
“Yeah, yet. Some days you make me want to say it.”
Despite what he said, Chuuya’s words held no bite. If anything, it looked like he was straining to not crack a small smile by the way his lips twitched between something like a sneer and a scowl. Regret went unsaid. But Dazai knew it was the regret of them making probably one of the most stupid decisions in their lives and now having to navigate its stormy waters aftermath. That included a lot of sneaking around and disappearing on Dazai’s behalf. Too many times now he had to come up with an excuse on a whim whenever Kunikida or Atsushi would ask him where he went off to.
He really, really leaned into his no-good slack-off persona these last few weeks. But what else was he to do while his bond with Chuuya was still fresh and separating for too long made pain shoot through his head and heart? That would raise a lot more eyebrows than Dazai going missing and skipping out on work.
No, he wasn’t at all in a rational state of mind that night they claimed each other. It wasn’t motivated by passion either. It was…something too deep down within only his subconscious knew the name of. Fate? That didn’t sound quite right, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Just scent me before I do it myself. I’m getting impatient and you’re making me want to change my mind,” Dazai grumbled.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow and looked at him with amusement. “You really are grumpy.”
Fingers reached to unbutton Dazai’s shirt and pushed it open. He shivered from the sudden warmth of Chuuya’s hands along his sides, caressing skin and bandage alike. In his mind repeated like a mantra was Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya. Every time Dazai used those damn scent blockers to get rid of both Chuuya’s and his own scent, he wanted to jump out of his skin. Not normal. He didn’t want it. Another regret. But he had to do it, didn’t he? He already could barely stand his bodily prison, but he wanted to forget the memory of himself as if he had no identity to speak of beyond Dazai Osamu. He’d much rather carry Chuuya upon him because it calmed the frantic thoughts that scratched at his mind like a wild animal wanting out.
A name only held the power Dazai gave it. And he gave Chuuya almost too much of it.
In passing, Chuuya mentioned he didn’t mind Dazai’s scent. Beneath a starry sky nursing cigarettes out on the balcony, Dazai once asked him to describe what it was like. It caught Chuuya off-guard, and after a lot of uhs, he finally got it out that Dazai was like the salt of the sea, down by the beach. Reminded him of sand between his toes. But for all Dazai knew, it was a kind way of saying that Chuuya put up with it because he had to. It made the pain go away, after all. They were each other’s sickness and cure.
Right now, he just wanted to drown.
Pulled out of his thoughts by a kiss to his collarbone, Dazai blinked away the reverie. Warm breath tickled his skin and he fumbled for the choker around Chuuya’s neck, unbuckling it. It always got in the way. What a damn nuisance. He swore Chuuya either left his choker or his gloves—or both—on while they were fooling around just to irritate Dazai.
“Don’t throw it aside this time,” Chuuya warned in a low voice.
Dazai rolled his eyes and dropped the choker on the floor. “There. Better?”
He didn’t get an answer except for a trail of open-mouthed kisses leading up his neck and Chuuya nibbling at the skin under his jaw.
After a few moments, Chuuya whispered, “I’m guessing you used those things today since I can’t smell you.”
Humming in acknowledgment, Dazai carded his fingers through Chuuya’s fiery locks, twirling a few strands of hair around a finger. Under the low light, a warm glow tinted Chuuya’s hair that also softened his features—making him less like a roaring inferno and more like a fireplace in the dead of winter. A place Dazai could sit by and warm his hands over, though if he wasn’t too careful, he could also burn himself.
It was the reason he would always return to Chuuya’s side no matter how many times either of them was ready to let go, to give up. At times it almost seemed as though they were both hell-bent on making each other’s life difficult, but Dazai didn’t see it as such. They were both playing a game that neither wanted to lose nor win but had invested too much into to abruptly stop.
“I had to, or else I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.” Dazai paused to brush his lips over the shell of Chuuya’s ear. “You really overdid it last time, you know? I think you’re the one that wants to get us caught—”
A sharp wince left his lips when Chuuya bit his neck, not quite breaking the skin, but he felt teeth graze the area, itching to sink in. When he didn’t finish his sentence, Chuuya pulled back to gaze down at him with a coy smile.
“You were saying? I didn’t catch the rest of that.”
Shooting Chuuya a look, Dazai pulled him down to crash their lips together in a messy kiss full of teeth. He nibbled and bit until Chuuya parted his lips enough for Dazai’s tongue to slide inside and lick into Chuuya’s mouth. He tasted tart berry remnants of the wine they had earlier in the night. Satisfying. Made him shudder with delight as if Chuuya had been the one in control all along—making him spiral into the abyss of blissful madness. If he hadn’t already been lying down on the bed, he was sure his body would’ve betrayed him and gone boneless, completely melting and offering itself to be consumed by the flame that was Chuuya.
Chuuya moaned quietly into his mouth and adjusted his weight so that he straddled Dazai’s thighs. His fingers ghosted along flesh again and he pinched one of Dazai’s nipples, making him gasp as Chuuya took advantage of the momentary shock to deepen their kiss.
Though he only had one glass of wine, Dazai already felt like his head was swimming with a warm, pleasant buzz that had him wading knee-deep in incoherent thoughts. Those loud thoughts that followed and tormented him all day went silent, leaving behind static noise he didn’t need to focus on. Even if he tried, Chuuya ravishing him and assaulting his senses prevented Dazai from thinking of anything beyond how wonderful it felt to burn up and burn alive in his ex-partner’s arms and how he never wanted it to end.
When they parted for air, Dazai licked the corner of his bottom lip. Along with wine was a hint of iron and a result of Chuuya biting and breaking skin. His head fell back against the bed, and he gazed up at Chuuya through half-lidded eyes, panting softly. Likewise, a faint pink dusted Chuuya’s cheeks, the edge in his eyes lost, turned hazy. Dazai admired how kiss-swollen those lips were—a small win even if the end result was both of them coming undone simultaneously. No true winners in this game.
Cute, he thought. One of the few times Chuuya tore down his walls and actually let Dazai in, making himself vulnerable. Dazai opened his mouth to speak and tease Chuuya about it, but he didn’t trust his voice enough right now. He never did once they got going. He let his body do the talking.
“If you don’t quit looking at me like that, I’ll make sure you don’t look at me,” Chuuya threatened weakly. He tried—and failed—to glare, but it came off more playful than threatening, not helped by how disheveled he looked.
“It’s a crime now to look at you?”
“No. But I know what’s going through your mind.” Looking away, Chuuya focused on sliding Dazai’s shirt off and tossing it aside. Chuuya then reached for his belt and undid it. “And I don’t wanna hear it.”
Smirking, Dazai peeled Chuuya’s shirt off, fingers nearly trembling as they itched with the desire to feel scarred skin once more. Unlike his own hideous appearance that even reflection shied away from looking at, he saw an odd beauty in how war-torn Chuuya’s body was—like it had been through hell and back and lived to tell the tale of just how awful growing up in a life of crime could be. Some of those were stab wounds. Some were gunshots. Nasty lacerations faded with time, and Dazai committed all the ones marring Chuuya’s chest and back to memory by touch. Sometimes he’d run his fingertips over them, delighting in how rough and raised some of the skin was. And other times he’d kiss the scars and murmur sweet nothings, because they certainly didn’t make Chuuya any less human. What he could not give himself, he gave to Chuuya.
Exhaling a shaky breath, Dazai pulled Chuuya down again until their bodies were flush together. The heat radiating from above him was pleasant, and he shivered when the ends of Chuuya’s hair brushed against his cheek and neck. He ran his hands up the plane of Chuuya’s back and over the ridges of his spine. A long gash stretched across a shoulder blade tickled the palm of Dazai’s hand and he traced it from end to end with the tips of his fingers.
A muffled noise like a protest came from Chuuya when he stiffened under the touch. Dazai paused, waited for some sort of signal that he should stop or if he was allowed to keep going.
“Keep going,” Chuuya finally mumbled into the crook of Dazai’s neck.
When Dazai hesitated, Chuuya nipped at the skin between shoulder and neck to spur him on. Chuckling under his breath, he resumed roaming his hands along back and chest, pushing Chuuya’s hair away from his shoulder. Dazai nuzzled into Chuuya’s neck and pressed his lips against the very mark that bound them together. The night of, it was an angry bite of broken skin painted with a purplish bruise. Now? Slightly flushed after having enough time to heal over. Dazai flicked his tongue over the area and kissed it.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No. It hasn’t hurt for a while now.”
Chuuya grazed the area where Dazai’s mark remained hidden behind several layers of bandages. “What about you?”
“Nah. You gave me a pretty ugly-looking bite, though.” Smiling to himself, Dazai peppered kisses along the column of Chuuya’s throat and lightly sucked on the skin over his pulse point, earning a low growl. “I looked like I got mauled by a bear the next morning.”
“Whatever…You were the one who told me not to worry about biting too hard.”
Reaching between them, Chuuya palmed Dazai through his pants, running fingers over the clothed bulge. The delicious friction of being almost enough and not nearly enough at the same time made a low groan spill from Dazai’s lips. He squirmed under Chuuya’s weight and tried to roll his hips up against the hand for more contact, desperate to be touched directly.
It was both torturous and heavenly being subjected to Chuuya’s whim—where he was stuck in limbo and forced to slow down and match Chuuya’s tempo. Failing to do so would only frustrate himself. Dazai learned this the hard way one night when he almost broke down and begged to orgasm after chasing the end for what felt like an eternity, only for Chuuya to continue at his own pace. And it made him want to scream.
Sensing the growing impatience, instead of giving Dazai what he wanted, Chuuya scooted forward and ground his ass against Dazai.
“Chuuya…” Dazai groaned and grabbed Chuuya by the hips to keep him from moving too much. He wanted more. A lot more. But not like this when he wasn’t in control.
“That’s for being a smartass.” Struggling not to laugh, Chuuya slid off Dazai’s lap and unzipped his pants, pulling them off along with Dazai’s underwear. “If you want to keep running your mouth, be my guest. But you might regret it.” He reached toward his nightstand and rummaged through a drawer for a bottle of lube.
Dazai grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head. He sank back into the sheets, relaxing into the embrace of Chuuya’s scent and letting it engulf his senses. Sucking in a deep breath, he stared up at the ceiling. A shiver ran up his spine from a draft in the room and he pressed his thighs together. “Tempting…What’s the worst you could possibly do? Not let me come? I’ve taken punches from you more painful.”
“Do you really want to push your luck?” Chuuya settled in front of Dazai and placed his hands on Dazai’s knees, spreading his legs apart. He had a knowing look as if he dared Dazai to keep going because Chuuya sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.
Chuuya leaned in close and buried his face between Dazai’s thighs, brushing his lips along the sensitive inside of the skin. He hooked his hands under Dazai’s knees to keep them apart and sucked harsh love bites along his inner thigh.
Muscles burning from being stretched to an uncomfortable limit, Dazai’s thighs trembled as he tried to close them to no avail. It only caused Chuuya’s grip to tighten and nails to dig into his skin with force.
“Now you’re just teasing me,” Dazai complained as he squirmed and carded a hand through Chuuya’s hair, tugging at it. He wanted to push Chuuya’s face away because not only did his legs ache, but his whole body ached to be filled, to reach the end. This was a different kind of hell with its flames licking at his skin and branding his thighs in Chuuya’s name. It was not a heaven.
Every time Chuuya got oh, so painfully close to Dazai’s cock, he immediately pulled away and went back to kissing along both thighs. A frustrated grunt left Dazai’s lips, and he surrendered to Chuuya’s assault. With how bruising the hold was on him, there was no way he was winning this one. But just as his eyes fluttered shut and he tried to distance himself from the here-and-now to only focus on the sensations of Chuuya’s heated breath tickling his skin and a hand caressing his other thigh, a hard bite tore a strangled gasp from his throat.
“Chuuya!”
Finally easing back with a look of amusement, Chuuya slicked two of his fingers with lube and circled the rim of Dazai’s entrance. “Relax.”
Complaint died in Dazai’s throat despite how desperately he wanted to turn this around on Chuuya and give him a taste of his own medicine. But he thought better of it—remembering the times they fought and rolled around in bed only for Chuuya to pin him down again and again until the breath was stolen from him, and he was forced to give up. Being stubborn about it only hurt himself in the end.
Relaxing against the sheets, Dazai let his eyes fall shut once more as he focused on the fingers sliding inside him with ease, curling and working him open with slow thrusts. He wiggled his hips to try and fuck himself onto Chuuya’s fingers, biting back a whimper whenever they rubbed at his walls and came dangerously close to the sweet spot that made electricity course through his veins.
Chuuya leaned in close and pressed a kiss right below his ear before whispering into it: “You can let go. It’s just us.”
Dazai turned his head to the side, half-hiding his face in the pillow. He clawed uselessly at the sheets around him, scrabbling for purchase over and over as the silk material slipped free from his hands. Letting out a shuddering breath, he went back to numbing himself of all thought except for Chuuya’s fingers burying up to the knuckle inside him and scissoring at a steady pace. A brutal pace.
Part of the reason he restrained himself except for the tiny noises that escaped his mouth was because Dazai rapidly approached the point of frustration coming to a boil and wanting to curse Chuuya for doing this to him. The shred of remaining rationale told him to hold back: he needed this despite how it felt like it dragged on for painful hours that hollowed him from the inside out.
A third finger pumped inside him, and he almost cried out in relief from the delicious burn of being filled. Resistance crumbling by the second, Dazai was unable to keep himself from reaching for his neglected cock and giving it a few strokes. Pre-come leaked from the tip and it ached terribly with a need that couldn’t be sated. Not when Chuuya fucked him.
“Ah…” Dazai’s voice came out breathy, and he swallowed thickly as he screwed his eyes shut again. Between Chuuya’s fingers missing his sweet spot repeatedly and his hand stroking the length of his cock, he felt like he was on the verge of going crazy at any moment.
Swooping in, Chuuya nuzzled Dazai’s neck and nibbled along the underside of his jaw. He suddenly removed his fingers and a startled whine caught in Dazai’s throat from the loss. His whole body felt like it was on fire and every little thing Chuuya did only fueled it until Dazai lay there writhing in a frenzy, teetering on breaking down and pleading for it to end.
After catching his breath, Dazai cracked open an eye to see Chuuya removing the last of his clothes. Just as Chuuya reached for the lube, he propped himself up on shaky elbows and swatted Chuuya’s hand away.
“Let me.”
He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t stand lying there in agony a moment longer while waiting for Chuuya to fuck him. They were right there, but that wasn’t good enough. He needed it now before he lost his mind. It was also a way for him to gain some sort of control when he had been reduced to a moaning mess fighting against Chuuya’s teasing that kept amping up. So Dazai sat up and poured a generous amount of lube in hand, wrapping his fingers around the base of Chuuya’s cock and pumping it several times. He swiped his thumb over the tip, causing Chuuya to stiffen and groan at the contact. Another little win but Dazai was too far gone to celebrate the victory. None of that mattered anymore. He squeezed lightly and dragged his nails along the length of Chuuya’s cock, delighting in how hypocritical Chuuya was by fighting back the urge to moan.
“It’s just us,” Dazai reminded in a low voice, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looked up at Chuuya, who weakly glared at him.
Then, Chuuya grabbed him by the wrist to halt Dazai’s motions. “That’s enough.”
Dazai fell back with a soft thud when Chuuya pushed him back down and settled between his legs. Heat crept up Dazai’s cheeks and he looked away, focusing on a wall and not on how Chuuya looked at him full of desire like he was someone worthy of being worshipped like that. He didn’t want to think about it or go down that rabbit hole. It would only lead to bad things. Bad feelings. Doubt in the soul. That could come in the morning.
Tremors wracked Dazai’s body as Chuuya teased his entrance with the tip of his cock, barely sliding in before pulling back. Enough to stretch Dazai open a little and make him complain with a low whine when he wiggled his hips. Seconds. He was seconds away from grabbing Chuuya’s cock and guiding it inside himself.
“I swear, I’m about to—ah!” Dazai’s eyes flew open in shock, the breath stolen from his lungs as Chuuya slid inside him in one smooth motion.
A smirk tugged at Chuuya’s lips, and he bent over to rest his forehead against Dazai’s. “Want to finish that thought?”
Though Dazai narrowed his eyes, Chuuya was unfazed by the withering look. If anything, despite the cloudiness in Chuuya’s eyes making them look less like a vast sea and more like a shallow brook Dazai couldn’t possibly get lost in, traces of amusement lingered in that gaze. Dazai didn’t need to be told to know that Chuuya was taking advantage of the situation and indulging in it.
And Dazai let him. He put up nothing more than a pathetic fight because this was always the result he wanted.
In an act of defiance, he lunged forward and bit Chuuya’s bottom lip, dragging his teeth across the skin before he pulled back and rested his head on the pillow again. It was beyond overwhelming how full he felt. Much, much better than a couple of fingers and their agonizingly slow pace. Chuuya was completely buried inside him, and the slightest shift caused his cock to brush against Dazai’s inner walls and make him whimper.
They exchanged a heated kiss, Chuuya’s hands hooking under Dazai’s legs and putting them on his shoulders, nearly bending Dazai in half as Chuuya rolled his hips against him, unhurried.
Every little whimper torn from Dazai’s throat was greedily swallowed up, their bodies moving in sync as Chuuya fucked into him at a steady pace. Sheets wrinkled beneath him as he tossed restlessly and arched up from the bed, attempting to meet Chuuya’s thrusts. He collapsed again and broke off from the kiss to cry out in bliss when Chuuya angled his hips just right and abused the sensitive spot that made him delirious with pleasure. All over his skin prickled as if ablaze. Dazai welcomed the flames—welcomed everything Chuuya had to give so long as they got to burn together.
Heavy pants escaped Dazai’s parted lips, gaze unfocused and blurred around the edges as reality bled into a familiar dreamlike trance he missed. “Ch-Chuuya…” He struggled to say more than Chuuya’s name over and over in a subtle plea for more like the broken record he was.
Grabbing Chuuya by his hair, Dazai pulled him down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He flicked his tongue out against the fading claim left in his name and grazed his teeth over the area. He wanted to bite. He needed to bite. In the blink of an eye, he could sink his teeth in and break open that skin all over again. Then everyone would know once more that Chuuya was off-limits, and Dazai didn’t care if their union was frowned upon. Only kept between them was the fleeting moment of vulnerability wherein they bared their necks for one another. It itched like something unsettling crawling under his skin that refused to go away until he gave into the temptation—
A semi-coherent thought drowned in the sea of lust with the increased speed of Chuuya’s thrusts. Hips snapped, and Dazai cried out again, his voice rough with use.
Hands pinned Dazai against the bed and kept him in place. Chuuya’s breath tickled his ear: “Relax so it doesn’t hurt.”
That warning of an impending climax was not helped by the stuttering of Chuuya’s hips switching between slow, hard thrusts and faster, more erratic ones. That kept Dazai suspended in a perpetual state of standing over the edge of the cliff and waiting for everything to come crashing down. But it never did. He waited and waited, and the anticipation was like a shower washing over him so hot that it rained down ice on him instead.
The starting swell of Chuuya’s knot nudged against Dazai’s entrance and a sharp exhale left his lips, willing himself to remain pliant and resist the urge to meet the thrusts by fucking himself onto Chuuya’s cock. So, so badly he wanted it. He felt it approaching, but he wasn’t quite there yet. So long as Chuuya didn’t stop or slow down too much, the end they chased was near.
But the brutal motion of Chuuya moving against him made doing that so much more difficult. His mind split down the middle and shattered into a million pieces—one half focusing on his own knot swelling with every angled thrust that bumped against his sweet spot, intensifying the ache for release. The other half, Dazai threw his head back in a silent scream when Chuuya slowly, finally pushed his knot past Dazai’s entrance and it popped inside.
Brain short-circuiting, Dazai immediately tightened around Chuuya, who hissed above him and stopped.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, stop,” Chuuya muttered in a ragged voice, caressing Dazai’s side to try and coax him into relaxing.
Gritting his teeth, Dazai relaxed his muscles and went pliant, focusing on Chuuya’s voice in his ear because it was impossible to follow the words. They sounded too, too far away. Six feet underwater. He didn’t understand, but Chuuya was right above him and here. And that broke through the static noise in his head enough for him to listen.
After murmuring a quiet good, Chuuya held onto Dazai’s waist and gently rocked into him. He tried to ignore how impossibly tight Dazai was around him, hugging him and still occasionally tightening around his knot. Unable to hold back any longer, it took a few more shallow thrusts before Chuuya came with a low groan.
A shudder shot through Dazai, and he squirmed at the sensation of being so unbelievably stuffed full and stretched open around Chuuya’s knot. The warmth of Chuuya spilling inside him was enough to push Dazai over the edge and in a frenzy, he sank his teeth into Chuuya’s neck, piercing the mark that bound them together and claiming Chuuya as his all over again.
“Fuck,” Chuuya winced, his face twisting into a flicker of pain as he planted his hands on the bed to keep himself from collapsing against Dazai in the aftermath of their violent union. He leaned forward and tilted his head to the side, encouraging Dazai to have his fill.
Humming against the skin, Dazai soothed the bite with his tongue. All over again he felt like Chuuya was invading his senses and flooding his mind with thoughts of just him—just them—and nothing more. They were in bed under Chuuya’s roof, but the smell of pine and fresh dew was so strong that Dazai could’ve sworn he was out in the forest seeking shelter from the rain under a canopy of trees. It calmed him enough that when he let go and relaxed against bed and pillow again, a lazy, blissed-out smile played on his lips.
When they had enough time to recover and catch their breath, the haze lifted. Chuuya carefully maneuvered their bodies so that they were on their sides, and he cuddled Dazai from behind.
“Are you hurt?”
Breath tickled the nape of Dazai’s neck, and he peered over his shoulder to look at Chuuya with a raised brow, amused by the concern. “Of course it hurts. I don’t think it’ll ever not hurt, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.”
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya pushed Dazai’s face away. “Just stay relaxed until I can pull out.”
“I think you’re about to get your wish. I can barely keep my eyes open,” Dazai said with a small yawn, resting his cheek against the pillow and nuzzling its surface. “What about you? Did I bite too hard?”
“You bit pretty damn hard. I was tempted to shove you away.”
Dazai lifted his head one more time to eye the bloom of reds and purples low on Chuuya’s neck. “Sounds like I didn’t bite hard enough. Whatever you do, avoid the mirror.”
Later when Chuuya was able to separate from Dazai, he disappeared behind the bathroom door. The distant sound of the shower running filled the silence. Dazai curled up and closed his eyes, promising himself he’d hop in the shower once Chuuya was done.
A promise went unfulfilled when he fell asleep a few minutes later. The last he remembered was the scent of something tropical and fruity like a coconut. Shampoo? A blanket draped over his lower half, and all went black.